Chapter Seven.
The Makolo Country.
A full week was spent by the travellers among those friendly villagers, during which Dick Maitland assiduously tended the wounded man, who by the end of that time, thanks in part to his own healthy flesh and blood, the result of simple, frugal living, and, more largely, to the young doctor’s skilful treatment, had advanced so far toward recovery that nature might safely be left to complete the cure. The week had been not altogether unprofitably spent in other respects, the two white men assiduously devoting themselves, with Mafuta’s assistance, to the study of the native language, varied occasionally, on Dick’s part, by a little botanising—during which he discovered some half a dozen plants that seemed to possess valuable properties—and the taming of the lion cub, which, after the first two or three days of captivity, responded with ever-growing alacrity to his young master’s advances, until by the end of six weeks he had learned to answer to the name of Leo, to come at Dick’s call or whistle, and, in short, had become as tame as a dog. This result, and the gentleness of disposition which Leo manifested, Dick attributed largely to the fact that the animal was never allowed to taste blood, or raw flesh of any kind, his food—after a milk diet for the first three weeks of his captivity—consisting entirely of well-roasted flesh.
The natives witnessed the preparations for the departure of their white friends with every manifestation of sincere regret, assisting to drive up and inspan the oxen, presenting a fine milch cow for Leo’s especial benefit, as well as quantities of mealies, bananas, and other garden produce, warning the travellers of various difficulties and dangers that lurked on the next hundred miles or so of their route, and carefully instructing them how they might best be avoided, and in many other ways making plain the sorrow with which they bade them farewell. Finally, when the oxen were inspanned and the wagon was on the very point of moving off, Mafuta, who had hitherto been missing, presented himself in full marching order, armed with shield, assagais, and knobkerrie, with plumed head-dress, and cows’ tails bound about his legs below the knees, and curtly informed Dick that it was his fixed intention to join the party! Although both Dick and Grosvenor did their utmost to dissuade him, by representing to him the great length and exceeding danger of the journey upon which they were bound, and the possibility that they might never return, it was all of no avail, he alternately insisted and entreated, declaring that he wanted no wages or reward of any kind. Dick had pulled his brother back out of the grave, and he felt it to be his duty, as well as his pleasure, to devote himself henceforward to the service of the white man who had done this wonderful thing; and finally, when Dick, loath to take the man away from his kith and kin, definitely refused to take him, the Kafir countered by saying, in effect: “Very well; the veldt is free to all, and if you will not permit me to join your party, I can at least follow you at a distance, and be at hand whenever you require my services.” After which, of course, there was no more to be said, and Mafuta was allowed to have his own way, to the great joy of his brethren of the village.
Nor was it very long before the travellers had abundant reason to congratulate themselves upon their decision in this respect, for Mafuta not only proved to be a most intelligent and devoted servant, but also a splendid guide, knowing the exact localities of the various streams and waterholes on their route, as far as the Zambezi, also the most favourable crossing places, where the best grass and the most game were to be found, and, most important of all, perhaps, the exact boundaries of the fly country. Indeed but for this last knowledge it is almost certain that in their anxiety to take the shortest possible cuts they would probably have lost practically all their cattle, and thus have been obliged to bring their adventure to a premature end.
On their ninth day out from Mafuta’s village they struck the Hanyani River, without meeting with any adventure worthy of record, and following its right bank for a couple of days, bore away in an easterly direction, skirting the northern slope of Mount Inyota, where they struck another small stream flowing to the northward and eastward; and as this was, broadly speaking, the direction in which they wished to travel, and as Mafuta assured them that it discharged into the Zambezi, they decided to follow it, and did so, finding eventually that it united its flow with another stream, which they followed, still without any particular adventure save such as daily occurred while hunting; and three weeks from the day on which Mafuta joined them the travellers found themselves gazing with delight upon the broad bosom of the Zambezi, its waters sparkling in the golden light of the westering sun.
Here again Mafuta’s knowledge proved to be of the utmost value, for he was able to guide the party to a spot where the river was fordable, and where they succeeded in effecting a crossing that same evening before sunset. Once safely arrived on the left bank of the river, Grosvenor and Dick decided to camp for a few days, in order to give the oxen a rest, the grass being good. Also there was a small native village a few miles higher upstream, where canoes and their crews might be hired, and within easy paddling distance of which there was a spot where hippopotami still abounded, affording a prospect of good sport, of which Grosvenor was particularly anxious to avail himself. Accordingly, while the Hottentot Jantje, and ’Nkuku, the Kafir voorlouper, remained in charge of the wagon and oxen, Ramoo Samee, the groom, accompanied his masters to the native village, to look after the horses and attend to the cooking while his employers shot hippopotami and crocodiles from the two canoes which they chartered; Mafuta, meanwhile, taking four days’ rations, and going off upon a prospecting expedition in search of elephant and buffalo. Three days at this village sufficed to provide the hunters with more trophies than they cared to encumber themselves with, while the natives enjoyed a record feast of hippopotamus flesh; and on the fourth morning Dick and Grosvenor returned on horseback to the wagon, while Ramoo Samee, in charge of the spoils, was conveyed down the river to the same spot in a canoe manned by the grateful natives. They found the cattle all right, and visibly improved by their three days’ rest, while Leo, the lion cub, welcomed Dick’s return with almost embarrassing demonstrations of affection. Late that same evening Mafuta also returned, with the intelligence that although he had not actually seen either elephants or buffaloes, he had obtained, from natives whom he had encountered, intelligence of a large herd of the former at a distance of four days’ trek from the river. He also reported the natives to be quite friendly disposed and willing to allow the white men to traverse their particular section of country. Everything thus appearing favourable, on the following morning the oxen were once more inspanned, and the journey resumed.
Then ensued a long trek extending over a period of more than two months, including a day’s halt here and there to rest the oxen, or to indulge in a little hunting, during which they enjoyed excellent sport among elephants, buffaloes, lions, leopards, giraffe, veldebeeste, zebra, ostriches, and the various species of buck to be found in the southern portion of the great African Continent; so rapidly, indeed, did their spoils accumulate that at length they could no longer find room for them in the wagon, and were glad to avail themselves of the opportunity afforded by their arrival at a particularly friendly village to leave everything of the kind, including some eighteen hundred pounds of ivory, in charge of the villagers.
Of the last three weeks of this long trek, nine days were consumed in forced marches through sterile country, bordering a wide and—according to Mafuta—utterly impassable desert, during which both water and grass were so exceedingly scarce that the entire party suffered terrible privation, no game of any kind being seen, where more than half the oxen died, while the remainder were reduced to such a miserable condition that they were scarcely able to drag the now more than half-empty wagon. Presently the character of the country gradually changed, a water-hole or two were found, with small patches of fairly nutritious grass growing round them, and as soon as a favourable spot was reached the wagon was outspanned and the oxen allowed a couple of days’ holiday in which to rest and recuperate. Then Grosvenor and Dick, mounting their horses, which had been spared as much as possible during the preceding ten days, set off with their rifles in search of game, and eventually succeeded in finding and shooting a pair of bush buck wherewith to replenish their larder.
At the end of the second day’s rest Mafuta—who had by this time completely won the confidence of the two leaders of the expedition, and had attained rather to the position of a humble comrade than a mere follower—gave it as his opinion that the oxen had now sufficiently recovered to justify the party in resuming their journey; and accordingly on the following morning the animals were once more inspanned. Dick and Grosvenor had already seen enough of the surrounding country during their two days’ foraging expedition to have come to the conclusion that conditions would now improve with every mile of progress, and this conclusion was fully borne out by their first day’s experiences, the country gradually becoming more hilly and broken, with small watercourses occurring at steadily decreasing intervals, with more and richer grass at every mile of their progress, until by the end of the day they once more found themselves in a district that might fairly be termed fertile, while a few head of game—bucks and a brace of paow (a kind of bustard)—had been seen. All this was exceedingly encouraging to the two explorers, for their experiences thus far—with one very important exception—had been in strict accordance with Menzies’ story, as repeated to them by their friend Mitchell, and confirmed them in the conviction that at length they had arrived within measurable distance of the spot where, according to the account given by the former, the ruins of ancient Ophir still existed in recognisable form. The exception referred to consisted in the fact that whereas, according to Menzies, the Makolo nation, upon whose territory they had now entered, were exceedingly jealous of all intrusion—Menzies himself having escaped a frightful death at their hands by the very skin of his teeth—they had thus far met with no molestation whatever; which, however, might possibly be accounted for by the fact that thus far they had seen no natives.
But this state of affairs was not to last much longer; for on the third day of their resumed trek, by which time they had reached a somewhat rugged, well-wooded stretch of country, watered by numerous streams, upon surmounting a ridge they sighted a native village, some three miles ahead, surrounded by well-cultivated fields which, upon their nearer approach, the travellers found to consist chiefly of maize and tobacco, with here and there a patch of sugar cane, or a small fruit orchard. Soon afterwards they encountered a large herd of cattle in charge of about a dozen native lads, one of whom, upon sighting the strangers, took to his heels and ran, as though for his life, to an eminence at no great distance, where, placing his hands funnelwise to his mouth, he began to shout, in a peculiar, high-pitched tone of voice, a brief communication of some sort to some unseen person or persons. At the same time one of the other lads, after intently scrutinising the newcomers for several minutes, advanced cautiously toward them and finally halted—evidently holding himself ready to bolt at the slightest suspicious sign—and, raising his sheaf of assagais in his right hand by way of salute, shouted the single word:
“Bietu!”
The word was evidently a variant of the Zulu Biete, the form of salutation addressed to a great chief, and, so construing it, Mafuta at once placed his shield and weapons in the wagon and, advancing rapidly, proceeded to address the lad in good Zulu. The stranger, however, although it was evident that he caught the meaning of a word here and there, seemed unable to grasp the sense of Mafuta’s communication in its entirety, whereupon the latter made a second attempt, this time using a sort of dialect or corruption of the true Zulu tongue; and was now more successful, quite a long interchange of conversation ensuing, at the termination of which the stranger turned and ran to the before-mentioned eminence, from the summit of which he shouted, in the same high-pitched voice as his predecessor, a communication of very considerable length, while Mafuta returned to the wagon.
“Well, Mafuta, what is the news?” demanded Dick, as the Kaffir approached.
“The news, Chief, is good,” answered Mafuta, saluting. “We have arrived within the borders of the Makolo country; and the word of the ’mfana who spoke with me is that it will be wise of my fathers to outspan at the first suitable halting place until the will of the king regarding them be made known. The Makolo do not approve of strangers entering their country, it would appear; but their objection no longer applies to white men, to whom the Spirits of the Winds have commanded that all kindness be shown, should such ever visit the Makolo country. News of our arrival has already been sent forward to Lobelalatutu, the king; and his will concerning us will be made known as soon as it comes; but, meanwhile, Matemba, the ’mfana who spoke with me, advises that we outspan until that will be made known.”
“Um!” remarked Dick; “that does not sound altogether promising, eh, Phil? Seems to indicate that there may possibly be difficulties put in the way of our penetrating the country, doesn’t it? What did you say to the ’mfana Mafuta?”
“I said,” answered Mafuta, “that the two white men, my chiefs, had come from afar across the Great Water to visit Lobelalatutu, the King of the great Makolo nation, to offer presents, and to request his permission to examine the ruins of the great city of which they had heard.”
“Yes, of course; I suppose that was the correct diplomatic way in which to put the matter,” remarked Dick. “And what said Matemba in reply?”
“He said,” answered Mafuta, “that doubtless the king, remembering the commands laid upon him by the Spirits of the Winds, upon the occasion of their last visit to the country in their great glittering ship which flies through the air, would gladly permit my chiefs to visit the ruins, even as the Spirits themselves had done.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Dick; “that sounds better. But,”—turning to Grosvenor—“I wonder what the fellow means by the ‘glittering ship which flies through the air’—and the ‘Spirits of the Winds’? Can it be possible that an airship has ever penetrated so far as this? Stop a minute—let me think. ‘Spirits of the Winds—glittering ship which flies’—by Jove! can it be possible? I thought, when I heard the expression ‘Spirits of the Winds’ that it sounded not altogether unfamiliar, that I had met with it before, in fact; and now that I come to overhaul my memory I very distinctly remember reading a yarn describing the adventures of some people who possessed a wonderful airship in which they made the most extraordinary voyages and met with some astounding experiences—”
“Yes,” interrupted Grosvenor; “I know the book you mean. I, too, read it. But I took it to be fiction, pure and simple; a somewhat daring flight of a novelist’s imagination. And now that you have reminded me of the yarn I distinctly remember that the four fellows in the story were described as having visited these same ruins of Ophir that we are hunting for—”
“Yes,” cut in Dick, “that is so. And, if I remember aright, they met with some rather exciting adventures among these Makolo, didn’t they?”
“Rather!” assented Grosvenor. “Were taken prisoners, or something of that sort, and only escaped by the skin of their teeth.”
“That’s it,” agreed Dick. “Yes; the man who was then king wanted to steal their airship, didn’t he?”
“He did—and got banished for his pains,” answered Grosvenor. “But that was not the end of the story. He—the king, I mean—returned from his banishment, killed the king who was reigning in his stead, and—yes, was found practising his old dodges of cruelty and murder when the ‘Spirits’ paid a second visit to his country.”
“Precisely,” agreed Dick. “But that part of the story was given in a second book recounting the further voyagings of the wonderful Flying-Fish—that was the name of the airship, you will remember. By Jove! How vividly those yarns recur to one’s memory when anything special—like this adventure of ours—occurs to recall them. Do you know, Phil, it now seems to me that, quite unconsciously to ourselves, those two books have had a distinct influence upon us in undertaking and carrying through this journey?”
“Possibly,” agreed Grosvenor; “though I am obliged to admit that I have been, and am still, quite unconscious of it. The point that is of real importance to us is this. Had the narratives in those two books the slightest foundation of fact? Because, if so, our recollection of them might stand us in good stead should difficulties arise between us and these people. Take, for example, the matter of the four Spirits of the Winds. If we were to judiciously exhibit some knowledge of them and their doings, this king might be inclined to be a great deal more complaisant than he otherwise would be. Don’t you think so?”
“Perhaps,” conceded Dick; “it is impossible to say. But what knowledge do we possess, or can we exhibit? Absolutely none, except what we can remember through the perusal of those two books. And, for my own part, I am inclined to believe that the alleged adventures of the four persons therein referred to were purely fictitious, or at least had no more than the slenderest connection with actual fact.”
“Yet,” contended Grosvenor, “it is remarkable, to say the least of it, that in our very first communication with these Makolo—which, now I come to think of it, was the actual name of the nation given in those books—the four Spirits of the Winds should be mentioned. Isn’t it?”
“Yes, it certainly is,” agreed Dick, somewhat reluctantly. “And of course,” he continued, “if it should happen that those two yarns are a record of actual occurrences presented in the guise of fiction, it will not be by any means the first time that such a thing has occurred. Anyhow,” he concluded, “I do not see that we can possibly do any harm by acting, as you suggest, upon the assumption that the yarns, however extravagant they may have appeared to us when we read them, are records of actual fact, and using our recollection of them in any manner that may seem advantageous to us. Is that agreed?”
“Yes, certainly,” assented Grosvenor. “We can but try it, and see how it works. And now, to change the subject, what say you about outspanning? This seems to be a good spot, eh?”
During the foregoing conversation the two speakers had been walking on ahead of the wagon, with their rifles in the hollow of their arms, the dogs and Leo, the lion cub, trotting amicably at their heels. They had arrived at a spot about a mile from the village, and were now traversing an open “flat” with plenty of grass, close to the margin of a small stream. As Grosvenor had suggested, it was an excellent spot upon which to outspan, for there were grass and water for the cattle, and it was sufficiently far away from the village to prevent any of those annoyances that a nearer approach might have subjected them to; they therefore halted, and when the wagon came up the order to outspan was given. A few minutes later, while Jantje and ’Nkuku were superintending the watering of the oxen, some half-dozen women, carrying baskets poised upon their heads, were seen approaching from the village. When, somewhat later, these women arrived at the wagon, the leader of them announced that the contents of the baskets, consisting of green mealie cobs, sugar cane, eggs, sweet potatoes, half a dozen shockingly skinny chickens, milk, and joala (a kind of native beer) were a present from the headman of the village to the strangers. (Six months earlier the travellers would have laughed incredulously at the idea of liquids being conveyed in baskets; but now they took it quite as a matter of course, for they had by this time grown quite familiar with the native basket, so exquisitely woven out of grass as to be quite impervious to leakage). They accepted the gift with a few words—but not too many—of thanks, and then, desirous of creating a good impression upon the Makolo as early as might be, they directed the women to wait, and, going to the wagon, took from their store of “notions” a few yards of gaudily printed cotton stuff, two or three yards of brass wire, half a dozen empty two-ounce tobacco tins decorated with gilt and coloured lettering, in the style familiar to all devotees of the weed, a small wooden box containing about a pint of mixed beads, and to each of the smiling and expectant basket-bearers a special present for herself, consisting of a necklet of large particoloured beads, the remaining gifts being of course for the headman in return for his present. The necklets Dick and Grosvenor personally clasped round the shapely, bronze-tinted throats of the recipients, to the intense delight of the latter, and then the damsels took their departure, smiling to such an extent as to display every tooth in their heads. Presently, when they were a few yards from the wagon, they burst into song, the burden of their lay being the magnificent generosity, enormous wealth, and splendid personality of the visitors.
About an hour before sunset that same day another party made its appearance, approaching from the village. On this occasion it consisted of men only, some twenty in number, which, upon their arrival at the wagon, proved to be the headman of the village and his retinue, all unarmed.
The party halted at a distance of some ten paces from the spot where Dick and Grosvenor sat before their open tent, and as they did so, with the precision of trained soldiers, every man’s right hand was flung aloft, and in deep, sonorous tones the salute was given:
“Bietu!”
Then the headman stepped forward and said, Mafuta standing by to act as interpreter:
“I, Insimbi, headman of the village of M’gama, in the country of the Makolo, bear the greetings of the great King Lobelalatutu to the unknown white men who have crossed the Great Water to visit him, to offer him gifts, and to request his permission to visit the ruins of the great city that are situate near the king’s village. He bids you welcome to the country of the Makolo, and his word is that you are to be conducted forthwith in all honour to his presence. You are his guests, to be treated by all men as such, and by them to be supplied with all things necessary to your comfort and wellbeing. Your oxen are poor in condition and few in number, therefore shall they be cared for here until they are again fit for work; meanwhile a fresh team shall be supplied from the herd belonging to this village for the conveyance of your wagon to the ruins you desire to visit. And if there be any other thing that you desire, my orders are to furnish it to you. I have said. Is it well, O white men?”
“It is very well, O Insimbi,” answered Grosvenor. “It is well for the Makolo and for your king that he keeps fresh in his memory the commands laid upon him by the four Spirits of the Winds, and we are satisfied. When can we be supplied with the fresh team of oxen?”
“At sunrise to-morrow shall the herd be driven hither, when my lords shall choose for themselves as many as they will,” answered the headman.
“Let it be so,” answered Grosvenor; “for to-morrow at sunrise will we resume our journey to the king’s village and the ruins. By the way, ask him, Mafuta, how far the ruins are from here.”
“With a full team of fourteen fresh oxen it may be done in seven days,” Mafuta translated Insimbi’s answer to the question.
“Seven days!” ejaculated Grosvenor, glancing in astonishment at Dick. “Then how the dickens has this fellow Insimbi contrived in the course of a single day to communicate with the king and get a reply from him?”
“Why, easily enough,” answered Dick. “Don’t you remember the wonderful system of voice-telegraphy mentioned in those two books that we were discussing to-day? That, of course, is how it has been accomplished. And, now that I come to think of it, we had an illustration of that system this morning when those two boys ran to the top of yonder hill and started shouting in that queer, high-pitched tone of voice. They were telegraphing to the king the news of our arrival without a doubt.”
“Yes,” assented Grosvenor, a little doubtfully, “I suppose that was it. But seven days’ trek with fresh oxen! That means a hundred and forty miles, or thereabout—it is wonderful!”
“You are right; it is,” agreed Dick; “but not more wonderful, to my mind, than that we, destined, as one may say, to make this trip together, should have both been fortunate enough to stumble across and read those two books, which I am now beginning to understand were records of sober fact instead of extravagant fiction, as we both thought them to be. We must certainly polish up our recollection of what we read, for it is not at all difficult to imagine circumstances in which the knowledge may be of vital import to us. By the way, Mafuta, tell those fellows that they are dismissed, and that all we shall require of them to-morrow, in addition to the oxen, will be a guide.”
Oxen and guide were both duly forthcoming on the morrow: the journey toward what may be called the capital was resumed, and continued day after day without adventure, the guide supplied on the first day continuing with the party for the whole of that day, and then turning them over to another, who in like manner piloted them a day’s trek, in turn to pass them on to another, and so on, day after day; each guide returning to his starting-point on the following day.