CHAPTER VII.

A SLAUGHTER GRIM AND GREAT

Then there was a pause, and we stood there in the chilly silent

darkness waiting till the moment came to start. It was, perhaps, the

most trying time of all—that slow, slow quarter of an hour. The minutes

seemed to drag along with leaden feet, and the quiet, the solemn hush,

that brooded over all—big, as it were, with a coming fate, was most

oppressive to the spirits. I once remember having to get up before dawn

to see a man hanged, and I then went through a very similar set of

sensations, only in the present instance my feelings were animated by

that more vivid and personal element which naturally appertains rather

to the person to be operated on than to the most sympathetic spectator.

The solemn faces of the men, well aware that the short passage of an

hour would mean for some, and perhaps all of them, the last great

passage to the unknown or oblivion; the bated whispers in which they

spoke; even Sir Henry’s continuous and thoughtful examination of his

woodcutter’s axe and the fidgety way in which Good kept polishing his

eyeglass, all told the same tale of nerves stretched pretty nigh to

breaking-point. Only Umslopogaas, leaning as usual upon Inkosi-kaas and

taking an occasional pinch of snuff, was to all appearance perfectly

and completely unmoved. Nothing could touch his iron nerves.

The moon went down. For a long while she had been getting nearer and

nearer to the horizon. Now she finally sank and left the world in

darkness save for a faint grey tinge in the eastern sky that palely

heralded the dawn.

Mr Mackenzie stood, watch in hand, his wife clinging to his arm and

striving to stifle her sobs.

“Twenty minutes to four,” he said, “it ought to be light enough to

attack at twenty minutes past four. Captain Good had better be moving,

he will want three or four minutes’ start.”

Good gave one final polish to his eyeglass, nodded to us in a jocular

sort of way—which I could not help feeling it must have cost him

something to muster up—and, ever polite, took off his steel-lined cap

to Mrs Mackenzie and started for his position at the head of the kraal,

to reach which he had to make a detour by some paths known to the

natives.

Just then one of the boys came in and reported that everybody in the

Masai camp, with the exception of the two sentries who were walking up

and down in front of the respective entrances, appeared to be fast

asleep. Then the rest of us took the road. First came the guide, then

Sir Henry, Umslopogaas, the Wakwafi Askari, and Mr Mackenzie’s two

mission natives armed with long spears and shields. I followed

immediately after with Alphonse and five natives all armed with guns,

and Mr Mackenzie brought up the rear with the six remaining natives.

The cattle kraal where the Masai were camped lay at the foot of the

hill on which the house stood, or, roughly speaking, about eight

hundred yards from the Mission buildings. The first five hundred yards

of this distance we traversed quietly indeed, but at a good pace; after

that we crept forward as silently as a leopard on his prey, gliding

like ghosts from bush to bush and stone to stone. When I had gone a

little way I chanced to look behind me, and saw the redoubtable

Alphonse staggering along with white face and trembling knees, and his

rifle, which was at full cock, pointed directly at the small of my

back. Having halted and carefully put the rifle at “safety”, we started

again, and all went well till we were within one hundred yards or so of

the kraal, when his teeth began to chatter in the most aggressive way.

“If you don’t stop that I will kill you,” I whispered savagely; for the

idea of having all our lives sacrificed to a tooth-chattering cook was

too much for me. I began to fear that he would betray us, and heartily

wished we had left him behind.

“But, monsieur, I cannot help it,” he answered, “it is the cold.”

Here was a dilemma, but fortunately I devised a plan. In the pocket of

the coat I had on was a small piece of dirty rag that I had used some

time before to clean a gun with. “Put this in your mouth,” I whispered

again, giving him the rag; “and if I hear another sound you are a dead

man.” I knew that that would stifle the clatter of his teeth. I must

have looked as if I meant what I said, for he instantly obeyed me, and

continued his journey in silence.

Then we crept on again.

At last we were within fifty yards of the kraal. Between us and it was

an open space of sloping grass with only one mimosa bush and a couple

of tussocks of a sort of thistle for cover. We were still hidden in

fairly thick bush. It was beginning to grow light. The stars had paled

and a sickly gleam played about the east and was reflected on the

earth. We could see the outline of the kraal clearly enough, and could

also make out the faint glimmer of the dying embers of the Masai

camp-fires. We halted and watched, for the sentry we knew was posted at

the opening. Presently he appeared, a fine tall fellow, walking idly up

and down within five paces of the thorn-stopped entrance. We had hoped

to catch him napping, but it was not to be. He seemed particularly wide

awake. If we could not kill that man, and kill him silently, we were

lost. There we crouched and watched him. Presently Umslopogaas, who was

a few paces ahead of me, turned and made a sign, and next second I saw

him go down on his stomach like a snake, and, taking an opportunity

when the sentry’s head was turned, begin to work his way through the

grass without a sound.

The unconscious sentry commenced to hum a little tune, and Umslopogaas

crept on. He reached the shelter of the mimosa bush unperceived and

there waited. Still the sentry walked up and down. Presently he turned

and looked over the wall into the camp. Instantly the human snake who

was stalking him glided on ten yards and got behind one of the tussocks

of the thistle-like plant, reaching it as the Elmoran turned again. As

he did so his eye fell upon this patch of thistles, and it seemed to

strike him that it did not look quite right. He advanced a pace towards

it—halted, yawned, stooped down, picked up a little pebble and threw it

at it. It hit Umslopogaas upon the head, luckily not upon the armour

shirt. Had it done so the clink would have betrayed us. Luckily, too,

the shirt was browned and not bright steel, which would certainly have

been detected. Apparently satisfied that there was nothing wrong, he

then gave over his investigations and contented himself with leaning on

his spear and standing gazing idly at the tuft. For at least three

minutes did he stand thus, plunged apparently in a gentle reverie, and

there we lay in the last extremity of anxiety, expecting every moment

that we should be discovered or that some untoward accident would

happen. I could hear Alphonse’s teeth going like anything on the oiled

rag, and turning my head round made an awful face at him. But I am

bound to state that my own heart was at much the same game as the

Frenchman’s castanets, while the perspiration was pouring from my body,

causing the wash-leather-lined shirt to stick to me unpleasantly, and

altogether I was in the pitiable state known by schoolboys as a “blue

fright”.

At last the ordeal came to an end. The sentry glanced at the east, and

appeared to note with satisfaction that his period of duty was coming

to an end—as indeed it was, once and for all—for he rubbed his hands

and began to walk again briskly to warm himself.

The moment his back was turned the long black snake glided on again,

and reached the other thistle tuft, which was within a couple of paces

of his return beat.

Back came the sentry and strolled right past the tuft, utterly

unconscious of the presence that was crouching behind it. Had he looked

down he could scarcely have failed to see, but he did not do so.

He passed, and then his hidden enemy erected himself, and with

outstretched hand followed in his tracks.

A moment more, and, just as the Elmoran was about to turn, the great

Zulu made a spring, and in the growing light we could see his long lean

hands close round the Masai’s throat. Then followed a convulsive

twining of the two dark bodies, and in another second I saw the Masai’s

head bent back, and heard a sharp crack, something like that of a dry

twig snapping, and he fell down upon the ground, his limbs moving

spasmodically.

Umslopogaas had put out all his iron strength and broken the warrior’s

neck.

For a moment he knelt upon his victim, still gripping his throat till

he was sure that there was nothing more to fear from him, and then he

rose and beckoned to us to advance, which we did on all fours, like a

colony of huge apes. On reaching the kraal we saw that the Masai had

still further choked this entrance, which was about ten feet wide—no

doubt in order to guard against attack—by dragging four or five tops of

mimosa trees up to it. So much the better for us, I reflected; the more

obstruction there was the slower would they be able to come through.

Here we separated; Mackenzie and his party creeping up under the shadow

of the wall to the left, while Sir Henry and Umslopogaas took their

stations one on each side of the thorn fence, the two spearmen and the

Askari lying down in front of it. I and my men crept on up the right

side of the kraal, which was about fifty paces long.

When I was two-thirds up I halted, and placed my men at distances of

four paces from one another, keeping Alphonse close to me, however.

Then I peeped for the first time over the wall. It was getting fairly

light now, and the first thing I saw was the white donkey, exactly

opposite to me, and close by it I could make out the pale face of

little Flossie, who was sitting as the lad had described, some ten

paces from the wall. Round her lay many warriors, sleeping. At

distances all over the surface of the kraal were the remains of fires,

round each of which slept some five-and-twenty Masai, for the most part

gorged with food. Now and then a man would raise himself, yawn, and

look at the east, which was turning primrose; but none got up. I

determined to wait another five minutes, both to allow the light to

increase, so that we could make better shooting, and to give Good and

his party—of whom we could see or hear nothing—every opportunity to

make ready.

The quiet dawn began to throw her ever-widening mantle over plain and

forest and river—mighty Kenia, wrapped in the silence of eternal snows,

looked out across the earth—till presently a beam from the unrisen sun

lit upon his heaven-kissing crest and purpled it with blood; the sky

above grew blue, and tender as a mother’s smile; a bird began to pipe

his morning song, and a little breeze passing through the bush shook

down the dewdrops in millions to refresh the waking world. Everywhere

was peace and the happiness of arising strength, everywhere save in the

heart of cruel man!

Suddenly, just as I was nerving myself for the signal, having already

selected my man on whom I meant to open fire—a great fellow sprawling

on the ground within three feet of little Flossie—Alphonse’s teeth

began to chatter again like the hoofs of a galloping giraffe, making a

great noise in the silence. The rag had dropped out in the agitation of

his mind. Instantly a Masai within three paces of us woke, and, sitting

up, gazed about him, looking for the cause of the sound. Moved beyond

myself, I brought the butt-end of my rifle down on to the pit of the

Frenchman’s stomach. This stopped his chattering; but, as he doubled

up, he managed to let off his gun in such a manner that the bullet

passed within an inch of my head.

There was no need for a signal now. From both sides of the kraal broke

out a waving line of fire, in which I myself joined, managing with a

snap shot to knock over my Masai by Flossie, just as he was jumping up.

Then from the top end of the kraal there rang an awful yell, in which I

rejoiced to recognize Good’s piercing notes rising clear and shrill

above the din, and in another second followed such a scene as I have

never seen before nor shall again. With an universal howl of terror and

fury the brawny crowd of savages within the kraal sprang to their feet,

many of them to fall again beneath our well-directed hail of lead

before they had moved a yard. For a moment they stood undecided, and

then hearing the cries and curses that rose unceasingly from the top

end of the kraal, and bewildered by the storm of bullets, they as by

one impulse rushed down towards the thorn-stopped entrance. As they

went we kept pouring our fire with terrible effect into the thickening

mob as fast as we could load. I had emptied my repeater of the ten

shots it contained and was just beginning to slip in some more when I

bethought me of little Flossie. Looking up, I saw that the white donkey

was lying kicking, having been knocked over either by one of our

bullets or a Masai spear-thrust. There were no living Masai near, but

the black nurse was on her feet and with a spear cutting the rope that

bound Flossie’s feet. Next second she ran to the wall of the kraal and

began to climb over it, an example which the little girl followed. But

Flossie was evidently very stiff and cramped, and could only go slowly,

and as she went two Masai flying down the kraal caught sight of her and

rushed towards her to kill her. The first fellow came up just as the

poor little girl, after a desperate effort to climb the wall, fell back

into the kraal. Up flashed the great spear, and as it did so a bullet

from my rifle found its home in the holder’s ribs, and over he went

like a shot rabbit. But behind him was the other man, and, alas, I had

only that one cartridge in the magazine! Flossie had scrambled to her

feet and was facing the second man, who was advancing with raised

spear. I turned my head aside and felt sick as death. I could not bear

to see him stab her. Glancing up again, to my surprise I saw the

Masai’s spear lying on the ground, while the man himself was staggering

about with both hands to his head. Suddenly I saw a puff of smoke

proceeding apparently from Flossie, and the man fell down headlong.

Then I remembered the Derringer pistol she carried, and saw that she

had fired both barrels of it at him, thereby saving her life. In

another instant she had made an effort, and assisted by the nurse, who

was lying on the top, had scrambled over the wall, and I knew that she

was, comparatively speaking, safe.

All this takes time to tell, but I do not suppose that it took more

than fifteen seconds to enact. I soon got the magazine of the repeater

filled again with cartridges, and once more opened fire, not on the

seething black mass which was gathering at the end of the kraal, but on

fugitives who bethought them to climb the wall. I picked off several of

these men, moving down towards the end of the kraal as I did so, and

arriving at the corner, or rather the bend of the oval, in time to see,

and by means of my rifle to assist in, the mighty struggle that took

place there.

By this time some two hundred Masai—allowing that we had up to the

present accounted for fifty—had gathered together in front of the

thorn-stopped entrance, driven thither by the spears of Good’s men,

whom they doubtless supposed were a large force instead of being but

ten strong. For some reason it never occurred to them to try and rush

the wall, which they could have scrambled over with comparative ease;

they all made for the fence, which was really a strongly interwoven

fortification. With a bound the first warrior went at it, and even

before he touched the ground on the other side I saw Sir Henry’s great

axe swing up and fall with awful force upon his feather head-piece, and

he sank into the middle of the thorns. Then with a yell and a crash

they began to break through as they might, and ever as they came the

great axe swung and Inkosi-kaas flashed and they fell dead one by one,

each man thus helping to build up a barrier against his fellows. Those

who escaped the axes of the pair fell at the hands of the Askari and

the two Mission Kaffirs, and those who passed scatheless from them were

brought low by my own and Mackenzie’s fire.

Faster and more furious grew the fighting. Single Masai would spring

upon the dead bodies of their comrades, and engage one or other of the

axemen with their long spears; but, thanks chiefly to the mail shirts,

the result was always the same. Presently there was a great swing of

the axe, a crashing sound, and another dead Masai. That is, if the man

was engaged with Sir Henry. If it was Umslopogaas that he fought with

the result indeed would be the same, but it would be differently

attained. It was but rarely that the Zulu used the crashing

double-handed stroke; on the contrary, he did little more than tap

continually at his adversary’s head, pecking at it with the pole-axe

end of the axe as a woodpecker[7] pecks at rotten wood. Presently a

peck would go home, and his enemy would drop down with a neat little

circular hole in his forehead or skull, exactly similar to that which a

cheese-scoop makes in a cheese. He never used the broad blade of the

axe except when hard pressed, or when striking at a shield. He told me

afterwards that he did not consider it sportsmanlike.

[7] As I think I have already said, one of Umslopogaas’s Zulu names

was the “Woodpecker”. I could never make out why he was called so

until I saw him in action with Inkosi-kaas, when I at once recognized

the resemblance.—A. Q.

Good and his men were quite close by now, and our people had to cease

firing into the mass for fear of killing some of them (as it was, one

of them was slain in this way). Mad and desperate with fear, the Masai

by a frantic effort burst through the thorn fence and piled-up dead,

and, sweeping Curtis, Umslopogaas, and the other three before them,

into the open. And now it was that we began to lose men fast. Down went

our poor Askari who was armed with the axe, a great spear standing out

a foot behind his back; and before long the two spearsmen who had stood

with him went down too, dying fighting like tigers; and others of our

party shared their fate. For a moment I feared the fight was

lost—certainly it trembled in the balance. I shouted to my men to cast

down their rifles, and to take spears and throw themselves into the

_mêlée_. They obeyed, their blood being now thoroughly up, and Mr

Mackenzie’s people followed their example.

This move had a momentary good result, but still the fight hung in the

balance.

Our people fought magnificently, hurling themselves upon the dark mass

of Elmoran, hewing, thrusting, slaying, and being slain. And ever above

the din rose Good’s awful yell of encouragement as he plunged to

wherever the fight was thickest; and ever, with an almost machine-like

regularity, the two axes rose and fell, carrying death and disablement

at every stroke. But I could see that the strain was beginning to tell

upon Sir Henry, who was bleeding from several flesh wounds: his breath

was coming in gasps, and the veins stood out on his forehead like blue

and knotted cords. Even Umslopogaas, man of iron that he was, was hard

pressed. I noticed that he had given up “woodpecking”, and was now

using the broad blade of Inkosi-kaas, “browning” his enemy wherever he

could hit him, instead of drilling scientific holes in his head. I

myself did not go into the _mêlée_, but hovered outside like the swift

“back” in a football scrimmage, putting a bullet through a Masai

whenever I got a chance. I was more use so. I fired forty-nine

cartridges that morning, and I did not miss many shots.

Presently, do as we would, the beam of the balance began to rise

against us. We had not more than fifteen or sixteen effectives left

now, and the Masai had at least fifty. Of course if they had kept their

heads, and shaken themselves together, they could soon have made an end

of the matter; but that is just what they did not do, not having yet

recovered from their start, and some of them having actually fled from

their sleeping-places without their weapons. Still by now many

individuals were fighting with their normal courage and discretion, and

this alone was sufficient to defeat us. To make matters worse just

then, when Mackenzie’s rifle was empty, a brawny savage armed with a

“sime”, or sword, made a rush for him. The clergyman flung down his

gun, and drawing his huge carver from his elastic belt (his revolver

had dropped out in the fight), they closed in desperate struggle.

Presently, locked in a close embrace, missionary and Masai rolled on

the ground behind the wall, and for some time I, being amply occupied

with my own affairs, and in keeping my skin from being pricked,

remained in ignorance of his fate or how the duel had ended.

To and fro surged the fight, slowly turning round like the vortex of a

human whirlpool, and the matter began to look very bad for us. Just

then, however, a fortunate thing happened. Umslopogaas, either by

accident or design, broke out of the ring and engaged a warrior at some

few paces from it. As he did so, another man ran up and struck him with

all his force between his shoulders with his great spear, which,

falling on the tough steel shirt, failed to pierce it and rebounded.

For a moment the man stared aghast—protective armour being unknown

among these tribes—and then he yelled out at the top of his voice—

“_They are devils—bewitched, bewitched!_” And seized by a sudden panic,

he threw down his spear, and began to fly. I cut short his career with

a bullet, and Umslopogaas brained his man, and then the panic spread to

the others.

“_Bewitched, bewitched!_” they cried, and tried to escape in every

direction, utterly demoralized and broken-spirited, for the most part

even throwing down their shields and spears.

On the last scene of that dreadful fight I need not dwell. It was a

slaughter great and grim, in which no quarter was asked or given. One

incident, however, is worth detailing. Just as I was hoping that it was

all done with, suddenly from under a heap of slain where he had been

hiding, an unwounded warrior sprang up, and, clearing the piles of

dying dead like an antelope, sped like the wind up the kraal towards

the spot where I was standing at the moment. But he was not alone, for

Umslopogaas came gliding on his tracks with the peculiar swallow-like

motion for which he was noted, and as they neared me I recognized in

the Masai the herald of the previous night. Finding that, run as he

would, his pursuer was gaining on him, the man halted and turned round

to give battle. Umslopogaas also pulled up.

“Ah, ah,” he cried, in mockery, to the Elmoran, “it is thou whom I

talked with last night—the Lygonani! the Herald! the capturer of little

girls—he who would kill a little girl! And thou didst hope to stand man

to man and face to face with Umslopogaas, an Induna of the tribe of the

Maquilisini, of the people of the Amazulu? Behold, thy prayer is

granted! And I didst swear to hew thee limb from limb, thou insolent

dog. Behold, I will do it even now!”

The Masai ground his teeth with fury, and charged at the Zulu with his

spear. As he came, Umslopogaas deftly stepped aside, and swinging

Inkosi-kaas high above his head with both hands, brought the broad

blade down with such fearful force from behind upon the Masai’s

shoulder just where the neck is set into the frame, that its razor edge

shore right through bone and flesh and muscle, almost severing the head

and one arm from the body.

“_Ou!_” ejaculated Umslopogaas, contemplating the corpse of his foe; “I

have kept my word. It was a good stroke.”