Springing to their feet they found themselves surrounded by a party of about forty Africans, some armed with spears, while others carried bows and arrows.
From the hostile attitude of the new-comers the hunters saw that they meant mischief; and, seizing their guns, they determined to defend themselves to the last.
Chapter Twenty Six.
Captured.
Pushing in front of Groot Willem, Congo entreated him not to make resistance; and so strong seemed his desire that they should surrender without making an effort to maintain their freedom, that he caught hold of the gun which Hendrik had already brought to his shoulder.
“Poison! arrows and spears all poison!” shouted the Kaffir, who appeared well-nigh scared out of his senses.
Both Willem and Hendrik had heard, seen, and read enough of the African tribes who use poisoned spears and darts, to feel something of Congo’s alarm.
They were not cowards, but they saw before them several men carrying weapons more deadly at short distance than their own fire-arms. Only one drop of blood had to be drawn by the point of one of their javelins, to cause certain death accompanied by horrible agonies!
They could not expect to conquer thirty or forty men, without receiving a scratch or two in the encounter; and knowing this, they took Congo’s advice and surrendered.
When the Kaffir saw that the capture of himself and his masters had been effected without a battle, he recovered his self-possession, and demanded of the natives the cause of their strange conduct.
An individual then stepped forward who appeared to have some influence over the others; and by his eloquence Congo became a little wiser, and a great deal more alarmed.
The African spoke in a language which only the Kaffir understood. He stated that he had lost two horses,—both of which had been killed at a vley where they had gone to drink. Although grieved at the loss of his horses, both which he had received as presents, he was quite happy in having discovered the party whom he believed to have wilfully destroyed his property.
The hunters directed Congo to inform him that the horse had been shot by mistake,—that they very much regretted the circumstance; and were quite ready and willing to make ample compensation for the damage he had sustained.
This the black chief declared was all he required, and the hunters were invited to accompany him to his village, where they could talk over the terms of compensation.
All started up the river, but the behaviour and methodical division of their escort convinced the hunters that they were considered as captives.
“This is very unfortunate,” said Hendrik. “We shall have to part with something we can ill spare. They will not be satisfied with trifles, and perhaps will want our horses in exchange for those killed.”
“They shall not have them then,” rejoined Willem, with an air of determination, forgetting at the moment that he was a prisoner, and the horses already in possession of their captors.
About a mile from the place where the Africans had come upon them, they reached a small collection of huts, from which issued a large number of women and children. It was evidently the kraal of their captors.
The leader of the party lost no time in proceeding to business. He was anxious to have his claim settled; so also were Groot Willem and Hendrik. Congo was again called to act as interpreter.
The black chief desired him to inform his masters, that the horses he had lost were of immense value. They had been given to him by an esteemed friend, a Portuguese slave-merchant; and he declared that, in his opinion, they were the best horses in the world. No others could replace them.
“Very well,” said Groot Willem, when this communication had been made; “ask him what he expects us to pay.”
“All this ceremony is not for nothing,” remarked Hendrik, while Congo was again talking to the chief. “We shall have some trouble in getting off from this fellow unless we surrender everything we’ve got.”
“He mustn’t be too greedy,” replied Willem, “or he will get nothing at all. We have performed a silly action, and expect to pay for it.”
“Those are brave words,” answered Hendrik, “but I don’t think we have power to act up to them. It will be they who will dictate terms; and what can we do?”
The chief, before making known his conditions, desired it to be understood that, a mistake having been committed, on that account he would not be hard upon them. He would not punish them for what they had done, more than to require compensation for his loss, which he at the same time gave them to understand was wholly irreparable.
From the appearance of the horses they had killed, the hunters believed that the animals had been left behind by some slave-trader, too merciful to take them any farther. They had evidently been used up by a long journey, and the chief had probably been thanked by their former owner for allowing them to die a natural death in his dominions.
The amount of damage was at length declared by the plaintiff, who was at the same time acting as judge.
“Tell them,” said he to the interpreter, “that all I require, by way of compensation, will be their own horses along with their guns and ammunition.”
“What!” exclaimed Groot Willem, jumping to his feet in rage, “Give them my horse and roer? No, not for all the horses in Africa.”
Hendrik was no less surprised and enraged at the attempt to extort from them; and, seeing the folly of continuing the parley any longer, the youths, without saying a word, walked off towards their horses, intending to mount and ride off.
This intention was opposed by the chief and others of the tribe, when an affray ensued, in which Groot Willem measured his strength against half a score of the natives. In their attempt to take his gun from him, several were hurled to the earth, and amongst them the chief himself. He did not desire to discharge the piece. A shot could only have killed one, while his enemies were legion.
Whether they would have conquered him without taking his life, or not, was doubtful, had not one of the Africans, more cunning than his fellows, adopted an ingenious expedient to terminate the struggle. Seizing a large cone-shaped basket, used for catching fish, he ran behind the young hunter and clapped it, extinguisher-like, over his head. The basket was immediately laid hold of by two or three others; by whom the giant was dragged to the earth and held there until they had bound him with thongs of zebra hide.
Before this feat had been accomplished Hendrik had received a blow from one of the natives that prevented him from making any resistance; and he too was trussed up for safe keeping.
Congo had not interfered in the outrage on his masters, but on the contrary he seemed rather pleased at the turn events had taken. This, however, did not prevent the Africans from tying him like the others.
The rage of Hendrik, on awaking from a brief period of stupor and finding himself fast bound, would be difficult to describe. There can be no greater agony to a brave and sensitive man than to find himself helpless for revenge after having undergone a deep humiliation.
Groot Willem, no less brave but of a different temperament, was more resigned to the indignity they were enduring. His anger had been aroused by the attempt to take from him a thing he greatly prized,—his gun. He had been defeated in trying to retain it; but now that it was gone, and along with it his liberty, he determined to exert some degree of philosophy and patiently wait for what should happen next.
Congo, who had appeared indifferent to seeing his masters bound,—in fact rather pleased at it,—now looked sad enough while submitting to similar treatment. His fellow-captives could have no sympathy, since his behaviour had not failed to beget suspicions of his ingratitude.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
In Thongs.
The prisoners were compelled to remain inactive spectators of a division of their property, most of which was appropriated by the chief himself, as a sort of compensation for the loss of his horses, and the damage his own person had sustained in the capturing of one of his prisoners. For, before securing Groot Willem, he had been sent to the earth under a blow from that sturdy hunter’s roer.
Beyond this present humiliation, the hunters had placed themselves under another and more serious obligation,—that of satisfying a desire for revenge.
“It is no use, baas Willem,” said the Kaffir, who had managed to get close beside his master. “We’ll be killed for showing fight.”
Congo next expressed his opinion that, had no resistance been offered to the chief, an opportunity might have been afforded them for returning to Macora. He was quite positive now that no chance for this would be allowed, not even to himself, who had only been pretending to be a traitor for the sake of gaining favour, and thus being enabled to assist them, his young masters.
“Do you think they really intend to kill us, Congo?” asked Willem.
“Yaas, baas. Sure they intend it,” answered the Kaffir. “They ’fraid now to let us go.”
“But, if they intend killing us, why do they not do so at once?” inquired Hendrik.
Congo explained, that their captors belonged to a wandering tribe of Zooloo Kaffirs, a warlike people, who had but little respect for white men. They were of a race that demanded tribute of the Portuguese at the north, and obtained it; and he was sure that they would never forgive the insult of their chief being knocked down in the presence of his subjects. That, alone, would lead to their being killed.
His explanation of the reason why they were not killed immediately showed him to be so well acquainted with the manners and customs of the people into whose hands they had fallen, that, after its relation, Willem and Hendrik could no longer doubt the truth of his assertions.
He said that white men were never put to death within sight of the kraal, lest the affair might be talked of by the women and children in the presence of other white men who might pass through the country. Although all might be well aware of their fate, but few would witness their execution. They would be led away some night, two or three miles from the village and then put to death. Their executioners would return to the kraal with the story that they had been sent back to their own country.
The chief, Congo believed, was not yet ready to witness their execution, being too well pleased with his late acquired property to think of any other business for the present.
Willem and Hendrik, after all that had been told them, were not prepared to give up every hope. Some chance to escape might offer, though it should be with bare life; for they could not expect to take with them their horses and guns.
As evening came on, the watch over the prisoners seemed less strictly kept than during the earlier hours of the day. But in vain they strove to rend the thongs that bound them, or slip from their embrace. They had been too securely tied, most likely by one whose experience, alas! had been but too well perfected in the enslavement of his own unhappy countrymen.
During the evening, an individual was observed approaching. Stepping up to where Groot Willem was bound, he commenced an earnest scrutiny of his features.
Willem fancied that the man had a familiar look, and, examining him attentively, he recognised no less a personage than the banished Sindo, the individual whom he had saved from the wrath of Macora. Here was a sudden transition from despair to hope. Surely the would-be chief could not be ungrateful! Perhaps he would intercede in their behalf! This was but his duty.
Willem strove to make him understand that he was recognised, hoping the knowledge of that would stimulate him to exert himself on their behalf. The attempt wholly failed. With a scornful expression upon his features, the man moved away.
“That’s Sindo,” muttered Willem to his fellow-prisoners. “He appears at home among them. Will he not assist us?”
“Yaas, that is Sindo,” said Congo, “but he no help you.”
“Why do you think so, Cong?”
“He no big enough fool do dat.”
This might be true. Sindo had once got into trouble through treason, and had narrowly escaped death. He would be a fool to incur such a danger again, in the new home he had found for himself.
This was the construction Groot Willem was inclined to put on the African’s conduct. Sindo was acting ungratefully. He had not shown the slightest sympathy for those who had befriended him in his hour of adversity. On the contrary, he had cut their acquaintance in the most unceremonious manner.
All night long they lay in their thongs. Morning came and still they were not set free.
“What does this treatment mean?” asked Hendrik. “What do they intend doing with us?”
“I am beginning to have fears that Congo is right,” answered Willem. “They do mean harm. They have robbed and kept us tied up all night. Those acts look suspicious.”
“But dare they deprive us of life?” asked the ex-cornet. “We are white men, and of a race who avenge each other’s wrongs. Will they not be afraid of the consequences of proceeding to extremities?”
“So I once would have thought,” replied Willem, “but from the way we are now treated, I believe they fear nothing.”
“I tell you, baas Willem,” joined in Congo, “the chief here got too much fear.”
“Indeed! He has a peculiar way of showing it.”
“I mean, he’s ’fraid to let us go. We’ll have to die, baas Willem.”
The Kaffir uttered these words with a resigned expression of countenance, that proclaimed him inspired by a firm conviction of their truth.
“Must this be, Hendrik?” said Willem, turning to his companion. “It hardly seems possible. Tell me, am I dreaming?”
“I can answer for myself,” replied Hendrik, “for I was never more awake. The rheims around my wrists are nearly cutting off my hands. I shall die if I have to remain tied up much longer. But dare these people put us to death?”
For a time, the captives remained silent. They were reflecting upon the many atrocities which they had heard to have been committed by Zooloo Kaffirs on the white settlers of the Cape country,—deeds of unprovoked violence performed much nearer the reach of retribution than these now were. The savages into whose hands they had fallen were protected by distance from any chance of being chastised from the south; and they had no respect for the cowardly Portuguese of the north.
This was not all. The hunters had first done them an injury, and then refused what had been demanded for compensation. In that resistance, a chief had been outraged by a blow. Moreover, there was property which the natives dearly prized; and the safest way to secure it would be to render their captives incapable of ever afterwards claiming it, or seeking redress for the spoliation.
The whole case wore a black look. Our adventurers began really to believe that Congo was telling the truth, when he said, they would have to die!
Chapter Twenty Eight.
