Chapter Nine.
The Chief Witch Doctor’s Plot.
“Speak freely and without fear, O Lobelalatutu!” answered Dick. “Tell us your trouble; and it may be that we shall, as you say, be able to point the way to deliverance.”
“Then—but first let the light be extinguished,” said the king, pointing to the hurricane lamp suspended from the pole of the tent. “It may be that some of my people, standing yonder in the shadow, hoping to behold some wonder, may see me with you, and, though they might not recognise me, disguised as I am, I would rather that no man should know that you have been secretly visited this night.”
“Right!” answered Dick in English. “I see your point, old chap, and out goes the ‘glim’.” And so saying he took down the lamp, opened, and extinguished it.
“It is well,” approved the king, with a sigh of relief. “Now can I talk without fear of discovery.” He paused for a moment, considering how he should begin, then said: “As we talked to-day, O Healer of Sicknesses!”—the native word for this expression (soon abbreviated to “Healer”) forthwith became Dick’s name among the Makolo from that moment—“you said that you knew what happened to M’Bongwele, the king who ruled before me, and also how I came to be made king in his stead. Know you also the story of Seketulo, whom the Four Spirits made king in M’Bongwele’s stead when they first came among the Makolo?”
“Yes, we know,” answered Dick. “We know that M’Bongwele was dethroned and banished by the four Spirits because of his barbarous and iniquitous rule, and that Seketulo was made king in his stead. We know also that, after a time, M’Bongwele secretly returned from exile, and, aided by certain powerful chiefs, slew Seketulo and reinstated himself as King of the Makolo. And, finally, we know that when the four Spirits revisited this country in their great glittering ship that flies through the air, they again deposed M’Bongwele and hanged him and his chief witch doctor from the bough of a tree, because, despite their previous warning, they persisted in their evil-doing. And in M’Bongwele’s place they made you, Lobelalatutu, King of the Makolo.”
“It is even so, O Healer!” assented the king. “The tale, as you tell it, is the truth; and now I know of a verity that, possessing this knowledge, you are like unto the Spirits themselves, to be trusted, even as they were; therefore will I, without fear, unfold to you the tale of my present trouble. It was the dissatisfaction of certain chiefs with Seketulo’s system of government, as prescribed to him by the four Spirits, that made M’Bongwele’s secret return and his resumption of the throne possible. Seketulo was instructed to govern the Makolo justly and humanely, to put a stop to the oppression of the people by the chiefs, and, above all, not to make war upon the neighbouring nations save in self-defence. It was this last restriction that occasioned the greatest discontent among certain of the chiefs; because, the Makolo being a powerful and warlike nation, we were generally victorious when we went to war, and the greater part of the spoils went to the chiefs, who thus increased their riches as often as we made raids upon our neighbours. But under Seketulo’s rule all this was altered, and we were obliged to be content with such wealth as we already possessed; hence the discontent and all that followed upon it. Now, since I became king, I have endeavoured to govern my people even as Seketulo did; and for a long time things have gone very well with us; the number of the Makolo, no longer kept down by war, has greatly increased, as also has our prosperity; for now that war is no longer part of its policy the nation has devoted itself to agriculture and the breeding of cattle, our herds have greatly multiplied, new villages have sprung up, fresh land has every year been brought under cultivation, and all have enough, and more than enough, to satisfy their wants. But of late I have suspected that, despite our steadily increasing prosperity, all is not well with us. I have detected signs of discontent not only among the chiefs, but among the people themselves; there have been murmurs that the long peace which we have enjoyed is converting the Makolo into a nation of women who will soon lose the capacity for fighting; our neighbours are growing insolent and aggressive; and—worst sign of all—those chiefs who most boldly support me in my determination to continue to rule in accordance with the tenets laid down by the four Spirits, are rapidly dying off, one after the other, by some mysterious disease.”
“Phew! I say, that looks very fishy, doesn’t it, Dick?” exclaimed Grosvenor, when the king had concluded his story. “Smacks of conspiracy and secret murder—eh, what?”
“Yes,” agreed Dick; “I must confess that it undoubtedly has a look of that kind of thing about it.” Then, turning to Lobelalatutu, he asked:
“How long is it since the chiefs who support you began to sicken and die; and how many have already passed along the Dark Path?”
“It is now nearly three moons since ’Mtatu, my most trustworthy chief, died; and since then five others have travelled along the same Dark Road,” answered the king. “And now a seventh, ’Nkuni, lies sick in his hut with the same symptoms as the others. Three nights and two days has he thus lain.”
“And how long does the sickness usually last?” asked Dick, his professional instincts being at once aroused.
“They usually die on the seventh day after the sickness declares itself,” answered the king.
“Good!” responded Dick. “Then your friend is in no immediate danger; and to-morrow, when we present ourselves before you with our gifts, I will see him, and it may be that I shall be able to save his life. Have you aught further to tell us?”
“No,” answered the king. “I have now told all. But I fear that all these things portend evil to me, and, perchance, the end of my reign and life. It is for this reason that I have visited you to-night in secret; for I hoped that if a conspiracy is growing up against me you might be able to name the conpirators to me. That is all the help I ask,” he finished grimly.
“Yes,” answered Dick; “I have no doubt that if we could ascertain the identity of the conspirators—if any—you could be safely trusted to do the rest. Well, we will see what can be done to help you. Must you really go? Well, good night! Take care of yourself; or, in other words, hamba gahli.”
As the tall, dark figure of Lobelalatutu strode away down the slight slope, upon the summit of which the tent was pitched, and melted into the shadows, Grosvenor turned to his companion, who had now re-seated himself, and said:
“It seems to me, friend Dick, that we have arrived upon the scene at the psychological moment—eh, what? If our friend Lobelalatutu’s suspicions have any better foundation than his own imagination, it strikes me that we are on the eve of exciting times. What say you?”
“I say yes to that, most emphatically,” responded Dick. “For, don’t make any mistake, Phil, the king’s imagination is not running away with him; the death of six chiefs in quick succession, followed by the serious illness of a seventh, is something more than mere coincidence; it means conspiracy, followed by ghastly, blood-curdling tragedy—unless we can contrive by some means to discover the identity of the conspirators in time. As for those unfortunate chiefs, I have not the slightest doubt that they have been removed by poison—some secret and comparatively slow but deadly poison, and I intend to make it my first business to discover what that poison is, and its antidote—if I can. The chances are, however, that I shall fail, for almost all the savage peoples possess a great deal more knowledge of drugs, and especially of poisons, than we civilised folk are aware of, or are inclined to credit them with; and if poison is really being employed, it will almost certainly be something of which I have no knowledge. Still, we shall see. And you may be sure that I shall use my very best efforts to succeed, and also to discover the details of the conspiracy which Lobelalatutu suspects; for, should it succeed, we shall find ourselves in an exceedingly awkward predicament.”
“Why—how do you mean?” demanded Grosvenor.
“How do I mean?” repeated Dick. “Why, in a few words, I mean this, that so long as Lobelalatutu lives and continues to govern this people we are reasonably safe. But if he should happen to be deposed, and murdered, the new king will most probably sacrifice us both to his fetish as a sort of thank-offering for his success. Twig?”
“Of course I do,” answered Grosvenor. “I had never thought of that; but it seems likely enough, now that you come to mention it. It appears to me that our first business must be to straighten out matters, for our own sakes as well as for that of Lobelalatutu. Poor chap! Here is he, a despot, with absolute power over the life of every one of his subjects; you would naturally suppose that such a man would have nothing to fear, wouldn’t you? Yet, like other monarchs, he seems liable at any moment to become the victim of secret intrigue, and lose his crown and his life together. I thought the poor chap looked worried when we called upon him to-day. The Bard was right—‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown’, be the head that of a civilised monarch or a savage.”
“True for you, my boy,” answered Dick. “But are you not beginning to feel tired? Because, if you are, pray don’t stand on ceremony, but turn in as soon as you like. As for me, I think I will sit up a bit longer and see if I cannot think this matter out and find a streak of daylight somewhere.”
“Which, I suppose, is a hint that you don’t need my company any longer,” retorted Grosvenor. “All right, old chap, pray don’t apologise. I know I’m a bit of a duffer in such matters as this, so I’ll leave you to thresh it out alone, and turn in for a good night’s sleep—eh, what?”
Left to himself, Dick Maitland sat far into the night, considering the situation unfolded to him by the king; and at length an inspiration came to him, by following which he thought it possible that he might be able to clear up the mystery connected with the deaths of Lobelalatutu’s most trusted chiefs, and perhaps discover whether or not there really existed a conspiracy to overthrow that monarch and restore the barbarous practices that had made the rule of the last king literally a reign of terror. Then he turned into his hammock and slept soundly until Mafuta aroused him at sunrise with the early cup of chocolate which was the invariable prelude to the business of the day.
The first thing after breakfast the two friends walked to the wagon, which was outspanned close at hand, and opened the boxes and bales which contained the various articles which they had brought with them to serve as presents and media of barter, and from the contents of these they selected a liberal assortment of gifts for the king, his wives, and the most important chiefs in His Majesty’s immediate entourage. These they handed over to the care of Mafuta, Jantje, and ’Nkuku the voorlouper; then, directing the trio to follow them, Dick and Grosvenor mounted their horses and rode at a foot-pace to the king’s village.
The distribution of the gifts proved to be a somewhat lengthy function, for the articles presented included a considerable number of mechanical toys, the working of each of which had to be carefully explained to the recipient; but at length it came to an end, to the apparent satisfaction of everybody concerned, and then Dick said to the king:
“Your Majesty is aware that I am a healer of sickness; is there any member of your family, or anyone in whom you are interested, lying sick at the present moment? Because, if so, I shall be very glad to do what I can to restore the patient to health.”
The king looked doubtfully at Dick for a moment or two, as though not quite comprehending the drift of the question; then something in the expression of Maitland’s face led to his understanding, and he replied:
“There is no one of my household at present sick, O Healer! but one of my chiefs—a man named ’Nkuni, who is my friend, lies nigh unto death; and if you can heal him I shall be grateful to you, for he is very dear to me. His sickness is the same as that which has already sent six other chiefs along the Dark Path; and it is of so strange and deadly a nature that Sekosini, the head witch doctor, can find no cure for it.”
As the king thus spoke Dick was keenly watching the faces of the various persons present, and he noted with something of a thrill that four or five of the chiefs seemed to exchange stealthy glances of meaning with each other, and also, despite their assumption of indifference, to exhibit signs of inward perturbation. But it was no part of his policy to show that he had observed these things; he therefore responded to the king:
“Ah, it may be that the sickness from which ’Nkuni is suffering is a sickness new to this country; and if it should prove to be so it is not surprising that Sekosini is unable to conquer it. It may be, however, that it is akin to some of the diseases with which I am acquainted, and in that case I can save the chief’s life. We will go to his hut and see him even now, if the king will direct someone to conduct us thither.”
Lobelalatutu at once turned to one of the chiefs present, and said:
“Ingona, you are ’Nkuni’s friend; take these white men to his hut, that the Healer may see him, and perchance restore to him his health and strength.”
Two minutes later Dick stood in the hut of ’Nkuni, and saw, lying stretched upon the pallet before him, a man somewhat past the prime of life who, when in health, must have been a very fine specimen of manhood. Now, however, he was thin and wasted, his skin was cold yet dry, his pulse was exceedingly feeble and erratic, and he was in a terribly exhausted condition, having suffered a severe paroxysm of abdominal pain shortly after swallowing a draught of milk which had been administered to him by Sekosini’s order. This last fact, together with several other details respecting the progress of the disease, were communicated by the man’s chief wife, who appeared to be greatly concerned about him, as was naturally to be expected.
“Where is the vessel from which the milk was drunk?” demanded Dick, when the woman had told all that she had to tell.
A calabash bowl capable of containing about a quart was produced for his inspection, and he saw with satisfaction that it had not yet been washed. The film of milk still clinging to its interior showed that it had been about half full when offered to the patient, and about a teaspoonful of milk still remained in the bowl. Of this vessel Dick instantly took possession, handing it over to Grosvenor, with instructions not to spill a single drop of its contents on any account. Then he asked if any medicine had been administered in the milk, and was answered in the affirmative, a very small calabash bottle being shown which had contained the drug. Of this also Dick took possession. Next, having brought his medicine chest with him, in accordance with the plans which he had made overnight, the young doctor administered a powerful emetic, then he locked the chest, slipped the key into his pocket, and, leaving the chest in the hut to obviate the inconvenience of carrying it to and fro, he gave certain instructions to the chief’s wife, and then requested Ingona to conduct him to the hut of Sekosini, the chief witch doctor.
This request appeared to fill Ingona with alarm, which he made no attempt to conceal. He informed Dick that Sekosini was a very great man indeed, second in power and influence only to Lobelalatutu himself; that it was not his custom to receive visitors unless permission had first been asked, the request being invariably accompanied by a present; that evil invariably befell those who were foolhardy enough to offend him; and that if he—Ingona—might presume to advise, he would strongly recommend the white man not to go near him, as Sekosini had always manifested a peculiarly strong aversion to strangers, and especially to white men since the two visits of the Spirits of the Winds to the Makolo country.
All this, however, only tended to strengthen certain suspicions which Dick had already formed; but he did not express them to Ingona; he blandly explained to that chief that, having been requested by the king to use his best endeavours to cure ’Nkuni, he wished to see Sekosini and consult with him, in order that he might learn as many particulars as possible respecting the ailment from which ’Nkuni was suffering. This explanation appeared at least partially to satisfy Ingona, who made no further attempt to dissuade Dick from his purpose, but, on the contrary, offered to go forward and prepare Sekosini for the proposed visit. To this proposal, since it could scarcely interfere with his plans, Dick cheerfully assented, whereupon Ingona, pointing out the witch doctor’s hut, which stood a good quarter of a mile apart from all others, hastened toward it at the long, swinging trot which enables the South African savage to get over the ground so quickly and which he can maintain for such an incredible length of time.
Dick, meanwhile, accompanied only by Mafuta to act as interpreter, sauntered slowly on his way, for the double purpose of arranging mentally the plan of his impending interview with Sekosini, and giving Ingona time to say whatever he might wish to say to the witch doctor.
It was about a quarter of an hour later that, as Dick and his henchman approached the witch doctor’s hut, Ingona emerged from it with the gratifying intimation that he had succeeded in inducing Sekosini graciously to accord the white man an audience. Whereupon the white man, having suitably expressed the satisfaction which was his at so great an honour, stooped and passed into the hut, preceded by Ingona and followed by Mafuta, whose original wholesome fear of wizards had by this time become completely swamped by his belief in the power of his master to circumvent the most powerful wizard that ever lived.
The hut of Sekosini afforded no indication of the importance of its owner, for it was of the same size as, and in all other respects similar to, the other huts of the ordinary natives, that is, as regarded its external appearance. Inside, however, there was a very marked difference; for whereas the ordinary native is content to sleep on the bare floor, Sekosini was satisfied with nothing less than a bed, consisting of a quadrangular framework of hardwood supported, at the height of a foot above the floor, by four stout posts driven firmly into the ground, the skeleton framework being strapped across and lengthways by a great number of tightly strained raw-hide thongs upon which were piled several very valuable karosses, or skin rugs. Also the interior of the hut was thickly hung with bunches of dried herbs and other objects, the precise nature of which Dick was at first unable to determine in the comparative obscurity of the interior, passing at once, as he did, from the blazing sunshine of the open direct into an interior which was unilluminated save by such light as penetrated through the low, narrow entrance.
For a full minute he stood, mute and motionless, waiting for his eyes to accustom themselves to the change; then the various objects of the interior
gradually began to reveal themselves to him with increasing distinctness, and he found himself face to face with a thin, wizened, shrunken creature of apparently incredible age, without a particle of hair on head or face, but with a pair of eyes that glowed like carbuncles within their cavernous sockets. He was seated cross-legged upon the floor, was absolutely naked, save for a necklace of snake skin, and was toying with an enormous green mamba—one of the most deadly of South African snakes—that lay coiled between his legs with its cruel, vindictive eyes fixed immovably upon the visitor. Beside Sekosini stood Ingona, apparently impassive, but his quick, irregular breathing betrayed the fact that he was labouring under a considerable amount of excitement. As for the witch doctor, his face wore a smile of concentrated malice, as though he anticipated something in the nature of a conflict with this audacious white mfana and was already exulting in the prospect of a quick and overwhelming victory.
Suddenly he fixed his eyes intently upon Dick’s, and said, in soft, sibilant tones:
“Well, ’mlungu, what want ye with Sekosini?”
It was the moment and the opportunity for which Dick had been waiting. Gazing intently into the eyes of the savage, in the peculiar manner that he had learned from Humphreys, the young doctor suddenly concentrated his will upon the effort to bring his foe—for as such he intuitively recognised Sekosini—under subjugation. For a moment the strangely contrasted pair gazed at each other, and then some strange sensation experienced by the witch doctor seemed to warn him of what was happening. But it was too late; Dick had caught him unawares, and so absolutely instantaneous was the hypnotic method which Humphreys had taught his pupil that before Sekosini could offer any effective resistance his will had completely succumbed to Dick’s, and he was in the latter’s power. In response to Dick’s unspoken thought he said:
“Ask what you will, and I will answer.”
“You hear?” demanded Dick, turning his gaze for a moment upon Ingona.
“I hear,” answered Ingona, unsuspectingly meeting Dick’s gaze as he replied, and in that moment he, too, was brought under the young doctor’s influence. For a few seconds longer Dick kept his unwinking gaze steadfastly fixed upon the chief, mentally commanding him to forget everything that he might see and hear during the interview; and then he again turned his attention to the witch doctor. He recalled to mind a declaration of Humphreys’ upon which the latter had laid great stress: “The spoken word, where you can use it, is always more potent than the unspoken, but whether it is understood or not is really a minor matter; it is the emphasis, the insistence which is conveyed by speech, added to the will power employed, that renders the operator absolutely irresistible.” As it was of the utmost importance that Sekosini should remain completely under his influence until the whole affair was brought to an end, he now once more sent his compelling gaze into the unblinking eyes of the ancient savage, and finally said to him, in English:
“Henceforth, until I release you, your will is mine; you will think and act only as I direct. You understand?”
“I understand, and will obey,” answered Sekosini.
“Good!” returned Dick. “Now I command you to tell me the absolute truth. Know you anything relative to the sickness from which the chief ’Nkuni is suffering, or the sickness from which ’Mtatu and the other five chiefs died?”
“Yes,” answered Sekosini—and the answer in nowise surprised Dick; “I know all. ’Nkuni is slowly dying of poison administered by me, the same poison that sent ’Mtatu and the other five chiefs along the Dark Path. The destruction of these men is preliminary to the destruction of the king, of whose method of government I and others disapprove. I might have destroyed Lobelalatutu alone; but if the chiefs whom I have destroyed had been allowed to live it would assuredly have led to trouble, therefore have I destroyed them first. When ’Nkuni dies the chiefs who think as I do will be strong enough to act without fear of opposition, and we shall be able to destroy Lobelalatutu and restore the system which prevailed when M’Bongwele reigned, the system by which the chiefs and the witch doctors were able to acquire much wealth instead of living, as we do now, in comparative poverty.”
“Then,” demanded Dick, “do I understand that under Lobelalatutu’s rule you have not a sufficiency to meet all your wants?”
“I have a sufficiency, yes,” answered Sekosini; “but I would have much more than that. I would have wealth, great wealth, and, above all, power, the power that the witch doctors wielded in M’Bongwele’s time. True, I have much power even now; but it is as nothing to the power that was wielded by Mtusa, the chief witch doctor whom the accursed Spirits of the Winds sent along the Dark Path with M’Bongwele, the king.”
“I see,” said Dick meditatively. “And are there any others concerned with you in this precious scheme of yours to remove Lobelalatutu?”
“Yes,” answered Sekosini, “there are Ingona, Lambati, Mapela, Moroosi, Amakosa, N’Ampata, and Sekukuni, all chiefs.”
“Quite a formidable little crowd,” mused Dick, as he drew forth his pocket book to make a few notes. “Just repeat those names again—slowly, if you please,” he commanded.
Sekosini did so, and Dick noted down the names very carefully, so that there should be no mistake, for some of the native names are quite embarrassingly similar in sound.
“Now,” resumed Dick, when he had done this, “to return to ’Nkuni. What is the poison that you have been administering to him?”
“It is a decoction of the leaves of the plant that hangs immediately over your head,” answered Sekosini.
Dick reached up and touched a thick branch depending from the roof of the hut. “This?” he asked.
Sekosini assented, and Dick took down the branch and examined it. It seemed quite an ordinary shrub to all appearance. He handed it over to Mafuta for safekeeping.
“Next question,” said Dick. “Is there an antidote to this particular poison?”
“Oh yes!” answered the witch doctor cheerfully; “I never use a poison that has no antidote, because it is sometimes desirable to alter one’s plans at the last moment.”
“Quite so,” assented Dick; “and I am going to alter your plans with regard to ’Nkuni straight away. Where is your antidote, and how is it prepared?”
“It is contained in those roots,” answered Sekosini, pointing to a bundle of bulb-like objects also suspended from the roof. “The method of preparation is simple. A root is taken, cleaned from the adhering soil, and boiled in water until it is soft enough to crush between the fingers. Then the liquid is allowed to cool and strained through cloth. This liquid is of a dark colour, almost black. To administer it, add enough water to stain it very pale yellow, and let the patient drink as he will; the more he drinks the quicker will be his cure.”
“Excellent! I shall easily remember that,” murmured Dick. Then, addressing the witch doctor, he said:
“That is all I want to know at present. Now, remain here until I summon you to the presence of the king. Mafuta, take these roots, and we will be going.”
Two hours later he had prepared a sufficient quantity of the antidote to fill an eight-ounce medicine bottle; and as the stuff was exceedingly strong, he believed that this ought to be nearly, or quite, sufficient to effect a complete cure. Armed with this, he made his way to ’Nkuni’s hut, and was gratified to find that the emetic had been productive of very satisfactory results, the pain being greatly eased, while the temperature of the body had become almost normal. He now administered a good stiff dose of the antidote, and left the bottle containing it in charge of the patient’s wife, giving her the most minute instructions respecting its administration. This done, he proceeded to the enclosed part of the village containing the king’s house and its dependencies, and informed the sentries at the gate of the palisade that he desired to report personally to the king the state of the chief ’Nkuni, from whose hut he had just come. The sentries had already received orders to admit the white men whenever they should present themselves, and in a few minutes Dick found himself standing in the presence of Lobelalatutu.