CHAPTER XXI
A VOICE FROM THE DEAD
Compton had found his father's book. When the woman gave it to him he sat down for an hour turning over the leaves, closely filled with neatly written handwriting interspersed with many sketches. To him it was a message from the dead—a priceless treasure; and as he read and saw how valuable it was as a record of close and intelligent observation in a new field, he was seized with an eagerness to be off with it out of the wilderness. He hurried to the cave, but, of course, there was no one there. Then, still carrying the priceless book, he ran on to the gorge, where the warriors whose task it was to guard that part were gathering. Some of them were examining the broken lengths of cotton, and drew his attention to them.
"It is medicine," he said briefly. "Have ye seen Ngonyama?"
They had not seen him since in the early morning one had noticed the great chief and the Spider enter the gorge.
"And it is not meet," they added, "that we should seek to find out where the chiefs had gone, since the place below was taboo."
"It is well," said Compton; and he returned to the cave to wait with as much patience as he could summon, under the impression that his friends had, of course, gone down to the pool in search of the missing boat.
The afternoon, however, passed quickly, for he was poring over the Journal, and it was almost dark when a step without attracted his attention.
"I say," he shouted, "come and see."
But it was not Venning who entered, but the chiefs mother. She looked tired, and her short skirt was stained with mud and moss.
"Halloa, it's you, is it?"
She squatted before the fire with her eyes on the book. "Ye will make medicine now, son of the wise man. Ye will teach our men how to build swift boats, and how to make the 'fire that kills."
"You are wet; you have been in the water."
"Oh! it is a little thing."
"I thought you were the great one, or the Spider. I have not seen them since the morning."
"Maybe they have gone a journey. What says the medicine?"
"It says that until they return safe as when they went, it will not speak," said Compton, with a chill suspicion growing in his mind.
She laughed. "Look again, son of my friend. Maybe they will not return except the things be done that must be done."
"What things?"
"I have said. The things that will make our people strong for the going out—the swift canoes and the shooting fire. That is my word."
"And this is my word. If any injury befall them, the medicine that is here"—and he tapped the book—"will work against yon and yours."
He looked at her very sternly, attempting to carry the matter with a high hand, for he judged from her words that something had happened to his friends.
"Wow! Are my people so few that a boy can talk to me in this way?"
She snapped her fingers.
"And what stand would you and your people have made against the wild men but for Ngonyama? What will they do when Hassan comes again, if the great one is not at hand to help?"
"Ohe! Little chief," she laughed, "you cannot frighten me with tales of Hassan; and think well over my word."
She went away down towards the new village that had been built beyond the river, and her voice rose in a chant as she went—a chant that was taken up and thrown back by the women returning home from the gardens. Compton built up the fire, and then walked up to the mouth of the gorge, restless and consumed with anxiety. Those words of the woman, "maybe they will not return," haunted him. They seemed to him ominous of danger. All night he patrolled up and down the ledge, between the cave and the gorge, fearing they would not come, and yet expecting to hear their voices at any moment; and in the morning he was heavy-eyed from want of sleep. The night-guards from the gorge trotted by, their places having been relieved.
"Have ye seen Ngonyama and the Spider?"
"There is smoke," they said. "Maybe the white chiefs make the fire."
"Where?"
"Beyond the water that is taboo."
He hurried off with his glasses, and from the gorge saw smoke rising far down the forest; and the sight gave him hope, for it might mean that his friends had followed the river down from Deadman's Pool on the trail of the missing boat. Bidding the men keep a good watch, and report any new development to him at once, he went back to the eave to breakfast and to renewed study of the journal. As he read, his attention became riveted on a series of sketches which laid bare the subterranean passages under the south-west portion of the cliff, between the gorge and the canon giving outlet to the river. As he read, too absorbed to think of anything else, he came upon the following note:—
"If it chance that understanding eye should fall on these notes, let my directions be carefully observed. No stranger—certainly no white man—would be permitted to leave the valley once he discovered its existence, by setting foot within its encircling cliffs. Let him not try to escape by the gorge on the south, for though apparently undefended, it is really guarded by a band of women who have the right to kill any person—not taboo—who passes through. These women, victims of a dark and degrading superstition, are recruited from the village, and once they quit the valley they are never seen, for they live about the shores of the pool beneath the cliff and in caverns adjoining, which form the lower or basement rooms of a series of stupendous vaults produced by volcanic agency. By night they prowl about the slopes above the pool; by day, some of them keep watch over the passage through the gorge and through the canon from loopholes to which they have access from the lower vaults. I know, because I myself tried to escape by this passage, and only escaped owing to the vigilance of the chief woman in the valley, who exercises control over the band, and who had her own purpose to achieve in saving my life. I was useful to her. When ultimately, after much labour, I discovered the only safe way out, I was, owing to repeated attacks of fever, too weak to avail myself of the discovery. My hope is that my efforts may be of service to some one —if, unhappily, any should follow in my footsteps—who would be better prepared to face the dangers and the difficulties of the forest beyond. Listen, then, to these instructions; On the ledge skirting the south cliff, and leading up to the gorge, there is a cave, which may be recognized from the existence near it of a bath hewn out of the lava by human hands. That cave is the key to the underground passage."
Compton looked up with shilling eyes. "The very place I am in," he muttered.
"For many months it was my home—if I may so misuse a word so charged with bitterness to me. Not a day passed but my thoughts went in sickness of spirit to my home, to my wife and little one; and it was when I was thinking of them that I thought I heard them calling my name from the cave. A sick man's fancy! But there had been a sound, and on entering to the far end of the cavern, I heard it repeated—a faint droning, such as would be produced by a shell held to the ear. There was, too, a current of air, and, feeling in the darkness, I found the crack through which it emerged. With a spear- head I easily broke the rock away, for it was a mere envelope. Thrusting the spear in, I felt there was an opening beyond. When I had satisfied myself that the passage extended for some distance, my first precaution was to find a slab of rock to fit the opening I had made."
Compton laid down the book, looked out to see that no one was near, and crept to the far end of the cave. Pressing with his hand, he soon found the rock yield. Satisfied, he returned to the journal with renewed eagerness.
"My first careful examination of the passage disclosed the welcome fact that it extended a great distance in a westerly direction, but without lights I saw it would be dangerous to attempt a thorough investigation. Accordingly, I occupied myself for several days in making a supply of candles, using the barrels of my gun as a mould, and mixing beeswax with oil clarified from the fat of animals, such as monkeys and coneys. Provided with two such candles, I began my explorations underground, and after many failures discovered a way of escape, which others may benefit by. The passage, in an uninterrupted course, dips under the gorge and enters the south-west cliff, which is completely honeycombed. After dipping under the gorge, it branches in several directions, but care must be taken to follow the extreme right-hand passage. This follows the outer shell, skirts what I have called the Hall of Winds, dips down through a long tunnel, and emerges on the outer slope at a point near the spot where the river disappears. The passage is safe, but can only be taken provided a candle or torch is used. If these directions should come under the notice of some unhappy traveller, let him accept my earnest wishes for success in his efforts to escape from a place which to me was first a haven of rest and then a hateful prison, and there is a feeling I have that I have not written this in vain."
The son of the lonely Englishman who had written the foregoing in sadness of spirit, but in hope for others, sat long staring before him with a lump in his throat.
"Not in vain, my father—not in vain did you labour," he murmured. Again he read over the directions, then very carefully he packed the journal and strapped it on his back, to be with him wherever he went. Noticing how the time had passed while he had been receiving the message from the dead, he hurried to the gorge to see if there were any signs of his friends, and his eyes went to the dark walls, and to the silent pool far below, with a feeling of intense repugnance at the thought of the ghoulish women who lurked unseen, but seeing all.
"Have you seen Ngonyama?"
"The smoke ascends no longer, Inkose; but we have seen the signal answered."
"How so?"
"Another smoke arose yet further off, and yet another, and beyond that another, till the word of the fire-makers was passed back even to the wide waters."
"Then it was not Ngonyama who made the fire."
"It was made by the enemy, Inkose."
"Have you sent out spies?"
"Of what use, lion's cub? Muata, the black one, hangs on their trail, and when the time has come he will spring. Wow! They are fools to come up by that path."
He went back deep in thought, and made up his mind to see the wise woman again. So he passed down into the valley, crossed the river to the new village built on a small flat-topped hill, and found the chief's mother sitting before his hut.
"I want my brothers," he said at once.
"The valley is open—search for them. You are a chief; put the men to the search. Why come to me?"
"Because you only know."
"Haw! If they are not in the valley they are out of the valley, and once they are out they have broken the law. Who am I that you should ask, since the law is made by the men?"
"Maybe, mother, they are not in the valley or out of the valley."
She threw a startled look at Compton, which he was keen to notice; then, with an expression of puzzlement, she nodded her head.
"Your meaning is dark, lion's cub. See, the valley is kraaled in like the goat-pen, and if the goats be not in the kraal they are outside the kraal. As for Ngonyama, see where the women build his hut against his coming."
"I see," said Compton. "Perhaps he was sent for by the chief, and has gone a journey, for the enemy are on the move."
"That is plainer to me," she said quickly. "It must be so, for the chief loves Ngonyama."
"Yes; that must be the reason. It lifts a load off my mind, mother."
"Ow aye I did not like to see your face clouded; and now you will make medicine for me?"
"I will; bat there are a few things I require. I am young at this work, mother, and cannot do without all the aids."
"Oh ay, I know," and she nodded her head with a fierce look in her eyes. "The blood of a man, the heart of a kid, and the tongue of a crocodile."
"No, no; a calabash of fat and a little wax. Only that."
"Your medicine is not like mine," she said musingly; "but I have it in my mind now that the good white man used much fat in his medicine."
She went into her hut, and returned presently with a calabash filled with fat and a square of wax.
"And ye will build fast canoes?"
"We will do great things, mother," said Compton, taking the things. "But it is not well that people should pry in upon one who is making medicine. He must have quiet."
"Wow! No one shall pass your house in the rocks, O wizard of mine."
He hurried up to the cave, passing the reed patch on his way to cut several stout stems, and began without delay his preparations for making candles. While the fat and wax were melting in a couple of "billies," he cut down the canes into sections of about six inches each, and buried them on end with the mouth up in soft ground near the bath, with a length of stout cord strung down the centre of each tube, and secured by a cross-piece. When the stuff had melted, he filled up the moulds, twelve in all, and left them to cool off. Then taking a stout cane left over, he cut away one of the joints, leaving a socket, thus converting it into a very handy candle-stick. Next he made up a parcel of food and medicine, carefully oiled his rifle, to protect it against the damp underground, and then went off up to the gorge to have a last look for his friends.
The warriors were buzzing about the barricade, evidently in a state of great excitement, and Compton saw the cause of this in the person of a solitary man ascending the slope from the direction of the pool.
"It is the chief's runner," said the men as the man came plainly into view.
Up he came, breasting the steep ascent with a look behind at frequent intervals as if he feared pursuit, and when he reached the wall, he drew a great breath of relief.
"Mawoh!" he grunted. "I saw the dead water heave, and there was a laugh from nowhere."
"What message?" asked one of the headmen.
"It is for Ngonyama," said the runner.
The headman fell back and looked at Compton, who then stepped forward.
"Give the message to me."
"Wow! This, then, is the chief's word. 'Say to Ngonyama, the great white one, that the enemy will come against the valley up from the dead water. Ngonyama will let them advance until they are in the jaws of the rocks. Then will Muata, the black one, fall on the rear and eat them up.' So said the chief."
Compton tamed to the headmen. "Where are the white chiefs?"
"We do not know, Inkose," they said uneasily.
"Ye will take the orders of your chief yourselves then, for unless my brothers are restored in safety, I will not help you."
"Maybe," said a man in a whisper, "the wizards have taken them to themselves to learn wisdom."
"Who are these wizards?" demanded Compton, sternly.
"Haw! Inkose, how shall we know?" But their eyes went fearfully to the silent walls of the gorge.
"Who does know?"
"We know not, Inkose. These things are not for us."
"I know;" and Compton eyed them sternly. "It is a woman who is chief in this place. Say to her the words of the chief, and bring me her reply."
They hesitated, muttering.
"Ye know the black one," said Dick, quietly. "He has asked for Ngonyama. Let the woman produce Ngonyama or give her authority, lest the black one turn his anger on you."
"The lion's cub says well," answered an old man. "I will go."
As he went off, Compton bade the indunas see to the defence, "For," said he, "without the white men, you will have to fight hard for your kraal." The indunas laughed as they gave their orders, saying that all they wished for was a good fight. Compton retired to his cave, and it was not long before the chiefs mother herself came up with her bodyguard of women, armed with bow and arrows.
"Ye sent for me, O great chief?" she cried, with a little mocking laugh.
"You have heard the chiefs message?"
"And this is my answer," she replied, pointing to the women. "We will meet the enemy."
"And Ngonyama?"
"Ngonyama! I have heard that name too often. See, young one, there is not room in a kraal for two strong bulls."
She nodded her head with a very hard look in her eyes.
Compton kept down his rising wrath at this ominous speech.
"Very well, mother," he said quietly. "You know best. I will now get about my work, if ye order that I am left in silence."
"I will see to that," she answered; "and see to it that you do all I have asked, lest you also go to those wizards you spoke of to the men."
She looked at him meaningly, and went on with her escort.
Compton watched them out of sight, then ran to his moulds. Taking out the canes, he split them down in turn, disclosing a dozen candles, roughly moulded, and very greasy, but he hoped suitable for his venture. One he fixed in the socket of the torch, the others he packed away carefully in an oilskin bag. Then slinging on his carbine, bandolier, haversack, and making them all secure by strapping a belt over all, he crept through the opening at the far end of the cave, replaced the rock, and lit his candle. After much spluttering and a great deal of smoke, the flame caught, and he started on his tour, breathing a fervent hope that it would lead him to his lost friends.