Chapter Twenty Four.
The Bashikonay.
It was not by any means a dull camp since the diaries and note-books were destroyed.
Before this fatal accident matters had been slightly monotonous for Cocoeni and the other young sporting Basuto and Matabele braves. Since that irreparable loss, however—to use Cocoeni’s slangy English—“things were humming, instead of being humdrum.”
They were merry boys, all of them, and could not have been more wisely assorted for such an uncertain enterprise. Regardless of danger and privation, and well-nigh impervious to fatigue, they took their troubles laughing.
They made sport of their work, and, unless silence was necessary, turned their daily march into a Christy Minstrel serenade. Repartee, song, and jest were the orders of the hours, and never had Ned seen a moody brow about him since Cocoeni brought the sorrowful tidings back from the rapids about the saurian and the valise.
Splendid-looking fellows the natives were, also; the flower and chivalry of their tribes. Deep brown eyes that could melt with emotion, flash with courage, and sparkle with fun; lips full, and ever on the ripple with appreciation of a joke; teeth even and white as the purest ivory could be; limbs muscular, shapely, and supple, with epidermis smooth, sleek, and sheeny as satin. Whether they were lying, standing, wrestling, or running, they were bronze models of grace and symmetry to draw the eye artistic upon them with admiration and delight.
Ned put them through their facings morning and evening for half an hour each time, before they commenced and after they had ended their day’s march. They took to this military exercise most congenially, and as they were quick to learn, very soon became splendidly drilled soldiers. He and his chums had cause to be proud of these glorious young warriors, as with lightning speed they obeyed orders, forming squares, scattering out into skirmishing order, marching steady as Romans, and pitching themselves flat on the ground to the word of command. With what they had learnt of British war tactics, added to their own native training, Ned had charge of as fine a body of men as captain or centurion could have desired.
Our heroes had not been so long from school to forget or forego the delights of outdoor games and athletic exercises, and these they taught their followers, much to their delight.
Cecil Rhodes, with that profound knowledge of men which has made him such a success, had not omitted cricket-bats, wickets, and balls, with the more necessary items of their equipment. These furnished them with constant amusement at such times as they might otherwise have felt wearied when game was not in their vicinity.
Football was an unfailing source of amusement with these stalwart dusky athletes. Ned was referee on these occasions, and Clarence and Fred the touch-judges. Rugby was their favourite game, and as it was played on those level veldts, it was a pretty and exhilarating game.
Cricket also they enjoyed hugely. They usually fixed Saturdays for their big matches, but some practised all the week. Cocoeni became a crack bowler, and much of the evenings were spent in discussing the qualities of the different players.
They had also racing contests and jumping matches. The steeplechases would have been eye-openers to some British experts, for these fellows could leap like kangaroos and run like racehorses.
They had wild tugs of war, and putting and throwing the weights; also wrestling, lifting, and club exercise. In all these feats the Matabeles contested with the Basutos, yet never lost their temper once.
It was the general good temper and fine control displayed by those hardy young warriors, as well as their expertness, quickness, obedience, and strength, that made them such valuable allies. Ned felt that his hundred and twenty-five trained heroes were equal to a thousand or more irresponsible savages, if they were forced to fight for their lives. With these at his back, he was hardly afraid of any odds now that they knew and could depend upon each other.
Our heroes were well-trained and religious young men, and while paying such strict attention to their physical exercises, you may depend upon it, did not neglect their spiritual devotions. On Sundays they conducted Church service twice regularly, each of them taking turns to deliver a discourse suitable to their audience and their own abilities. They explained the Scripture as they read it, and did their best to demonstrate how good and beautiful, as well as knightly, were the qualities of mercy, purity, truth, and faith.
They showed their heroic and simple listeners that fearlessness, endurance, courage, and strength were only the common attributes shared alike by beast and man; that where the man proved his heroism and superiority over the beast was in his generosity and chivalry towards his weaker or viler enemy, and also in his humility, trust, and obedience to the higher and Divine laws of God. When they told of that great and perfect Example and Sacrifice to humanity, those emotional Africans sobbed their sympathy for His sufferings for them. He was the true and perfect Knight who faced and endured ignominy and death that they might live eternally.
They pointed out the living example of King Khama, who had proved that a Christian could also be a brave and great warrior. They told about that other hero, Gordon of Khartoum, who did not lose his faith or courage even although so basely betrayed by those from whom he expected help. The Matabeles and Basutos quickly comprehended and appreciated these specimens of fidelity and heroism. They remembered, also, during the week what they had listened to on Sunday.
“You will be brave in the hour of danger, for that is your nature, I know,” said Ned on one of these occasions. “Be brave enough, also, to stay your hand in the hot moment of triumph, for that is the moment of greatest peril to the hero. You can endure privations, I have seen; you must also learn to resist temptations. The perfect warrior is temperate in all things, true to his brothers, and true also to his pledge even when given to a foe. His shield is meant to protect his own body, and his body is given to him to aid and protect the weak, raise the fallen, comfort the afflicted, and keep it holy and clean.”
These were boyish orations, but they went straight to the hearts of those child-like hearers. The ideals were those of uncontaminated youth appealing to unsophisticated and malleable Nature. Our heroes had no scoffers amongst their congregation, but only young men devoted to them, who were as easy to lead upwards or downwards as children. Ned and his two chums led them upwards as far as they could; and made them to see how much better virtue was than vice, how much happier faith made one than did doubt. Each had their departments to debate upon. Ned showed the greatness of the Creator by botanical illustrations. Fred brought in his chemistry, and filled them with wonder at the marvels he revealed. Clarence explained the stars, and entertained them with the fairy-like tales of astronomy. Thus their days and nights were fully occupied.
They began and ended each day with prayer. As they walked along they felt that they were environed with unseen protection. This inspired them constantly with renewed and lofty courage. So long as man can rely on prayer, he need fear no enemy, for his buckler is impregnable.
On the next morning after Ned had killed the lion, they started at daybreak towards the mountain.
They had not gone half the distance, however, when the sun, which had risen brightly, suddenly became overcast with what appeared to be a dense, dark cloud, which completely blotted out the light, and threw a dismal shadow over the landscape.
Our heroes looked at the dark cloud which was so swiftly rising out of the east and overspreading the blue sky. It was like nothing they had ever seen before, of a violet blackness, with copper-coloured upper edges that glistened metallically. A strange rustling sound came from it, growing louder as it advanced.
Myriads of birds circled above this cloud, diving in and darting out from it perpetually. As it came on with incredible rapidity, they could see it trailing along and covering the ground like a black pall.
The Kaffirs flung down their loads, and stood watching it with glittering eyes, while Cocoeni stretched out his arm and explained the startling phenomenon with one word, “Locusts!”
One of the plagues of Moses was coming. Even while Cocoeni still pointed, the swarming insects with their violet wings were upon them in countless hosts.
They filled miles of space with such a palpable mass that only a dim twilight prevailed. They covered the earth like a fall of snow six inches deep with no intervening space. All the air was reverberating with their loud chirping, the rustling of their crisp wings, and the shrieking cries of the birds who devoured them wholesale, yet without apparently diminishing their bulk.
Our heroes were appalled at this numberless host, and dazed with the darkness and noise. They staggered about trying vainly to shake the pests off, that dropped so thickly and incessantly upon them. They slid and squashed thousands under their feet; while they felt sick as they watched their followers greedily imitating the ravenous birds, and devouring handfuls of them, as fast as they could chew and swallow.
For an hour this went on, as the rustling, whistling, shrieking, and living cloud of darkness swept over them. Then gradually the air cleared, and the fierce sun poured down upon that glistening and writhing plain.
Not a blade of grass or leaf of herbage was left. Around them spread a barren desert; even the river-bed was choked up with a moving compact mass of blackness.
They resumed their march, watching the cloud as it swept westward, and slipping about as if treading amongst slushy ice, over the ankles. It was horrible. It was sickeningly disgusting.
The Kaffirs, however, showed no disgust. After gorging themselves, they filled their bags with these insects, and trudged along singing merrily.
“Are they good to eat, Cocoeni?” asked Ned.
“You bet they are, baas, bully fine. You eat one, and then you will find out.”
“No, thanks; I’ll take your word for it, old man. They ought to be good for something, since they have used up the country.”
“Oh, next rains will make that all right.”
“Meantime, I suppose there will be starvation amongst the game?”
“No; they will eat these as we do; after that they will move off to other parts.”
In another couple of hours the company arrived at the cliffs. The ground was still covered with locusts, which had been unable to rise, and the stream-bed was completely filled, so that no water could be seen.
In front of them yawned a chasm of about a hundred yards wide. Wall-like precipices rose on either side and stretched upward for five thousand feet with hardly a break. A few fissures and cracks were discernible here and there, but no ledge which could afford a foot or handgrip for even the most expert climber.
The ground was hard and stony, yet even here, as far as they could look into the cavity, it was overspread with locusts.
The stream penetrated this barren gully, and also continued as far as they could see. Eastward and west these same smooth precipices extended, like a coastline until merged in distance. Serrated on the ridges, at long intervals they presented similar openings to the one they now stood before. Possibly these were water-sheds in the rainy seasons, but at present there were no signs of streams flowing. After a careful survey east and westward, Ned decided that the Rhodes river opening was the most promising route to follow.
Without any more hesitation, he strode into the shadow of the cliffs and out of the sun glare, crushing his hundreds of locusts each step he took. The rest followed him obediently, still singing as they went along.
A crowd of aasvogels had come down from their lofty watching-posts, and were busy glutting themselves with the locusts. These vultures merely lifted their ugly bald heads and bare necks and looked at the invaders as they passed, and then continued their feasting, hardly budging out of the way.
After penetrating for about a mile of this shadow-land they crossed the belt of locusts, and found that the ground was ascending.
It was paved with water-worn smooth rocks between patches of yellow sand, and rose in a series of steppes. In the centre of this channel, the brook still ran purling and clear over its stony bed, with here and there small fringes of vegetation at its edges. All else, however, round and above them was sterile in the extreme. A deep silence brooded over this rocky valley, which, although at present in shadow, was intensely hot and airless. The sun glared on the upper half of one side, but the rocks in the bed still retained the heat where it had lately shone. As they walked, our heroes felt as if enclosed in a bakehouse.
They were winding round a corner, when suddenly Cocoeni and the other Kaffirs uttered cries of affright and rushed into the middle of the running stream, where they stood in a line, trembling. Ned and his chums at once promptly followed their example; then they asked—
“What is it, Cocoeni, that frightens you?”
“Look, baas, the bashikonay is coming!”