Chapter Twenty.
The Bapongqolo Return.
Notwithstanding that I, and I alone, had brought to him his bitterest enemy to be dealt with, Sifadu’s manner towards me became, as time went on, more and more one of suspicion and distrust. He feared lest I should desire the chieftainship of this refugee clan; for by this time I was as completely one of themselves as he was, and he thought, perhaps rightly, that a man who had once commanded the fighting force of a great warrior nation was not likely to be content to remain for ever a mere nobody.
But this attitude taken up by Sifadu compelled me to do the very thing which he desired least, and that in self-defence. I laboured to create a following, and before I had been many moons among them I had attached fully half the outlaws to myself. Further, I knew that in the event of a quarrel between us I could count upon even more, for Sifadu was but indifferently liked. His bravery was beyond suspicion; indeed, it was through fear of his prowess that none disputed his supremacy. But he was of a quarrelsome disposition, fierce and terrible when roused, and had a sullen and gloomy mind; whereas I, for my part, have ever got on well among fighting-men, and as for gloomy thoughts, whau! they are the worst kind of múti, worse than useless indeed. True, I who once had been among the first of a great nation was now an outlaw and an exile from two great nations; but men’s fortunes change, and it might well be that in the near future my serpent would remember me, and my place be higher than ever—indeed I dared not think how high.
News at length reached us of another great battle. The Amabuna had again advanced upon Nkunkundhlovu, but before they could reach it a large impi sent by Dingane had reached them. Whau! that was a fight, said our informants. The Amabuna had drawn their waggons together, as their manner is, and the Amazulu strove for half a day to carry their camp with a rush. But it was of no use. The long guns shot hard and quick, and when the impi got almost within striking distance, and would have swarmed over the waggons, the Amabuna loaded their guns with several small bullets at a time, instead of only one, and our warriors went down in heaps. They could not stand against it, and this time a tale of defeat was brought back to the King.
Now the Amabuna, quick to take advantage of their success, pressed on immediately. But Dingane this time did not wait for them. He was warned that his brother, Mpande, was plotting against him, and he knew better than to be caught between the Amabuna on one side and his own rebellious people on the other. So he had decided to retire.
This was the news which reached us in our retreat, and whereas this would be the tract of country for which the King would make, it would be our retreat no longer. So we were forced to take a line.
Now, Sifadu’s plan was to hand over the whole band of refugees to Mpande, whose emissaries had been among us of late trying to win us over to the side of that prince. But my mind on the matter was different. I had no great opinion of Mpande, whereas Dingane was a real King—one to whom it was good to konza. My flight had been due to the hostility and intriguing of Tambusa, not to the displeasure of the King; and, now that the Great Great One was sore pressed by his enemies, I desired to wield a spear in defence of him. On this matter, too, Lalusini, whom I saw from time to time, was of the same mind as myself, though at that time she would not open her mind to me freely, bidding me, with a smile, to be still and wait.
Soon Sifadu, having his plans ready, called a council of the Bapongqolo to make known to the clan at large what he expected of it. The warriors came, several hundreds of them, in full war adornments, and fully armed, and Sifadu addressed them in a long speech. He recalled how it was that they came to be there, living the life of exiles and outcasts. He reminded them of their relatives slain, their houses stamped flat, their cattle seized to swell the herds of Dingane. The miserable cheat, Tola, whose bones lay broken and scattered around the nest of the black ants, in which they had put him to a just death, was only the mouthpiece of Dingane; the real oppressor was the King himself. Now, would they put themselves beneath the foot of such a King as that when they might obtain revenge for their wrongs, and at the same time lead a quiet life by doing konza to one who had promised them immunity and reward if they aided him now? But they must do this quickly for their own sakes, for their former oppressor with what remained of his army would be upon them in their retreat immediately.
Thus spoke Sifadu, but his words, and the words of others who argued in like manner, were not received as he intended. By more than half of those assembled they were received in silence. The old instinct of trained and disciplined warriors rendered these averse to turning against the King, especially so great a king as Dingane. Besides, it was by no means certain that even a combination of both forces against him would be attended with success. Then, too, they could not bring themselves to enter into alliance with the Amabuna.
Then I spoke. I pointed out that there were several hundreds of us—all good fighting-men—that if we all went in to offer our spears to the King, he, being pressed by enemies, would right gladly receive us. So should we all regain our place in the nation, and be outlaws no longer.
As I went on, the murmurs of assent which greeted my words grew into shouts. The people had long been tired of their runaway state, and here was a chance to set themselves right. They were also not a little tired of the rule of Sifadu.
This Sifadu saw, and leaping up, his countenance ablaze with fury, he came at me, his great spear aloft. So quickly was it done that I had barely time to throw up my shield. So powerful the blow that the blade pierced the tough bull-hide and stuck fast. Then Sifadu, following up his attack in swift fury, struck over my shield with his knob-stick. It was a terrible blow, and partly reached me. I felt half stunned, but infuriate with the pain. So, with a shout, I quit defence and went at Sifadu with a will.
A frightful commotion now arose. The friends of Sifadu would have rushed to his aid, but that they saw that those favourable to me were more numerous. These sprung to meet them, and all being fully armed it looked as though a bloody battle was about to be fought. But some cried aloud against interference, saying that the two of as should strive for the mastery, and to this counsel I added my voice. Sifadu, though, had no voice save to growl and grind his teeth like a maddened beast.
So we fought, we two—none hindering. Our shields flapped together, and for a moment we were immovable—pressing each other equally hard—each striving to run in under the guard of the other. Then the spear-blades—Sifadu having disentangled his—would flash and glance like threads of fire as we leaped and feinted—yet neither of us able to drive home either stroke or stab. A silence had fallen upon the onlookers now, and every head was bent eagerly forward. All this I could see, while never taking my gaze from my enemy.
At last my chance came. Pretending to stumble, I threw myself forward, and with one swift sweep of my assegai I sheared through Sifadu’s leg, gashing the thigh to the bone. He sank to the earth uttering a terrible howl. All the muscles were divided—from the principal blood-vessels red jets were spurting. Whau! He was in a sea of it. But even then, weakening each moment, he gathered strength to hurl his great knobstick at my face. I was prepared for this, however, and caught it on my shield; nor did I hurry to run in and finish him, knowing that while he could move a finger he would still gather himself together for one last desperate slash at me.
“Hamba-gahle, Sifadu,” I said—not mocking him. “This quarrel was not of my seeking, but the son of Ntelani never yet refused a fight.”
He made no reply, glaring at me in hate until very soon he sank down into unconsciousness and death. And all the warriors shouted in assent of my words, save some few—near friends of Sifadu; but for them I cared nothing. And presently some of the older among them came to me, and we talked. We agreed to carry out my plan of returning to the nation, and that at once.
“Whau, Untúswa! Thou hast commanded men from thy youth; it is fitting that thou shouldst be our leader now,” said one of them, after he had talked. “Say I not well, brothers?” turning to the rest.
“E-hé! Siyavuma!” (“We consent”) they cried as one man. Thus, Nkose, I became chief of the Bapongqolo, the tribe of the Wanderers; but, in truth, the honour might be brief, indeed, for it might please the King to make a quick end both of chief and tribe.
Now that we had thus decided, we sent out men to find out how things were going between Dingane and the enemy, and from their report we judged that the time had arrived to come in and lie beneath the foot of the Elephant. The Bapongqolo women were left in concealment in the recesses of the Ngome forests, while we, to the number of several hundreds, marched forth.
Before we crossed the White Umfolosi, I and other of the principal of the refugees climbed to the heights overlooking the Mahlabatini plain. It was somewhat early in the morning, but the brightness of the new day was dimmed—dimmed by a great cloud. Far away to the southward it rose, that cloud—thicker and thicker, higher and higher—a great dull pillar of smoke. Nkunkundhlovu was in flames.
Through the thickness of the smoke-cloud we could see the red leap of the fire. Then was amazement our master. Had the Amabuna gained a victory—so great a victory that they had been able to penetrate to the Great Place of the Elephant whose tread shaketh the world? Whau! it could not be. The marvel was too great.
But as we looked, lo! over the rise which lay back from the river came dense black masses—masses of men—of warriors—for in the morning sunlight we could see the glint of their spears. They moved in regular rank, marching in columns, in perfect order. In perfect order! There lay the whole situation. This was no defeat. The Great Great One, for reasons of his own, had fired Nkunkundhlovu before retreating.
Nearer they drew, those masses of warriors—on, on—rank upon rank of them. We saw them enter the river and cross, and for long it seemed that the flood of the river must be arrested in its run, so vast were the numbers that blackened it as they crossed. Our blood burned within us at the sight of this splendid array. We longed to be among them, bearing our part as men. We had had more than enough of skulking like hunted leopards.
“Ho, Siyonyoba!” I cried to the second leader of the refugees. “Form up our spears in rank, that we go down now and throw in our lot with these.”
Right down we went. The black might of our retreating nation was halting now, rolling up in waves; and there, on the very spot where we were finally repulsed by you English in the battle of Nodwengu, Nkose, when we thought to eat up your red square of soldiers, there did we wanderers, whose lives were forfeit, bring our lives in our hands to lay them at the feet of the King.
(The battle historically known to us as that of Ulundi is always termed by the Zulus the battle of Nodwengu, because fought nearest to the kraal of that name.)
I had sent on men in advance to announce our arrival, and now, as we drew near, the army opened on either side of us so as to leave us a broad road.
A dead silence lay upon the whole dense array. I gave one glance back at those I led—led, it might be, to their death. Truly, a more warrior-like band never desired to serve any King. Their fugitive life had hardened the Bapongqolo. Even the picked regiments of Dingane’s army could not surpass them for hardihood and uprightness of bearing; and though we were probably going to our death, my blood thrilled with pride that I was the elected leader of so splendid a band.
I gave a signal, and striking their shields in measure as they marched, the Bapongqolo raised a great song in praise of Dingane:
“There hovers aloft a bird,
An eagle of war,
In circles and swoop
It floats above the world.
The eye of that eagle
Would burn up the world.
But the world is allowed to live.
So clement, so merciful, is that eagle who restrains his wrath.
He retires but to swoop and strike again.
Hau! The enemies of that war-eagle
shall melt away like yonder smoke.
A vulture who devours the flesh of men;
So is that bird.
Yonder is flesh that he shall presently eat.
So great is he,
He retires but to swoop and strike again.”
So our song thundered forth as we marched straight onward. I gave another signal. Immediately every shield and weapon fell to the ground with one crash, and advancing nearer weaponless, we bent low, a forest of heads, and from every tongue in one roar there ascended the “Bayéte.” For we were now in the presence of the King.
In stern silence Dingane sat gazing upon us. Then he, too, gave a signal. Immediately an armed regiment moved across our rear. Between us and the weapons we had thrown down stood a wall of armed men, and in this I read our sentence of death. We had risked our chance and had foiled. By my counsels, I had led these hundreds of brave men to their doom.