Ebomvu then sat down again among the principal men, a murmur of “Di’a vuma nawe” (“I agree with you”) being uttered by the older chiefs, whilst loud cries of “Hi, Hi, musa” were uttered by the younger men.
After a little delay a young chief, who had fought well against the Amazulu, stepped into the centre of the circle, and raising his shield and assagies, said, “Listen to me, men of the Umzimvubu. I am for war. I think we ought not to sit down like boys or women, and let our friends, the Amakosa, fight alone. We are strong and we know how to fight. If we join the Amakosa we shall share in the spoil; we must have our share of the cattle, of the guns captured, and we may also procure some of those animals on which men ride. Shall our tribe be termed a tribe of cowards? I say, let us join the Amakosa, and dip our assagies in the blood of the white man.”
A tremendous shout was given at the termination of this address; and it was evident that, as far as numbers went, there were more in favour of war than there were against it. This was an example of what took place among civilised nations. If the majority of an assembly are emotional rather than intellectual, a man who appeals to the emotions gains more adherents than the speaker who talks sound sense. Consequently, when another young chief spoke in favour of war, it was decided that we should join the Amakosa and fight the white man.
What I was to do I did not know. I felt that, although I had become a regular Caffre in habits and thoughts, yet I was an Englishman; and if I fired and killed a white man, I should be guilty of murder. I thought a great deal about this matter; for though I had nothing to complain of in my present life, yet I longed to see my father again, and to let him know I was not dead. I knew that, lost as was the ship in which I had left Calcutta, there would be no records of her ever found. I alone could tell the tale, for the ladies who had been saved had become the wives of Caffres, and they told me that now they must live and die as they were, and could never again return to civilisation.
I had great doubts whether the life I now led was not the one which most men in cities toiled for all their lives. Boy as I was, yet I had rank, I was a chief; I had cattle, the great wealth in this land; I had a gun and ammunition; I had always plenty to eat; I wanted no clothes, I could wrap myself in an ingubu (blanket or kaross) made of jackals’ skins, which kept me warm in the cold nights; I had no work to do that I didn’t like. There was plenty of game to shoot or trap; and, except during a short rainy season, the climate was as fine as any in the world. What more pleasant life than this could I lead anywhere? In England I should be at a school, having to learn a lot of things in which I took no interest; perhaps, if I did not work properly, I might be caned, I, who was now a chief, and if any man struck me should probably use my assagy against him. There were two sides to the question of returning to civilisation. I had read also that my uncle passed seven or eight hours a day in a dark office in London, in a place crowded round by other houses, so that you could scarcely see the sun, and where there were so many men that you scarcely ever breathed anything but second-hand air. Still, there was the longing always coming over me to see my father, and to tell him that I was happy, and if he did not mind I should prefer remaining where I was. But the war-spirit had broken out, and every one, even to the smallest intombi (girl) was dancing about, singing war-songs. As was the custom with these tribes, a great war-dance was arranged; all the fighting men, in full war-dress, assembled from miles round. We mustered more than five thousand fighting men, besides about three thousand boys able to throw an assagy, and assist at critical moments, when the enemy were broken or too powerful at any particular point.
I shall always remember the war-dance which now took place; it was a sight only to be seen in the wilderness, and where civilisation has made no progress. The men assembled formed a ring three and four deep, and sat quietly on the ground for more than an hour, each with his shield in front of him. At a given signal we all started to our feet, with a shout; then, imitating the movements of an old chief who entered the centre of the ring, we beat the ground, first with one foot, then with the other; then, jumping in the air, came to the ground with both feet at once, making the earth shake as we did so. After we had continued these proceedings for some time, a young bull was brought into the ring and turned loose, three young chiefs entering at the same time. They shouted and beat their shields, so as to alarm the bull, and then closed on him, hurling their assagies at him. The animal soon became savage and charged at the young chiefs, and a regular bullfight occurred; but so active were the Caffres, and so well did they back one another up, that in a few minutes the bull was so terribly wounded by assagies that it sank to the ground and died.
Four bulls were killed in the same manner and by different sets of young chiefs, the circle of warriors all the time singing their war-songs and dancing and beating their shields. During two days these festivities were kept up, and then the leading chiefs met in council to decide upon the plan of operations. I soon began to observe that several of the chiefs regarded me in a manner different from that in which they had formerly done. They were not unfriendly, but they were silent; and I feared that some enemy had been at work who was jealous of my rise and progress. I was rich for so young a chief, as I now possessed fourteen cows and several calves; but I did not think I was rich enough to be accused of witchcraft, and my cows taken from me. I had but to wait a few days before I learned why this change in manners had taken place. One evening an old chief sent for me to his kraal for a kaluma (talk), and on my entering his hut I found two other chiefs there. They offered me snuff, and Itchuala, and then the old chief said:—
“Umkunkinglovu! we know you are brave and can fight well, and we should have liked you to lead a division of our men; but we have thought that, as you, although a Caffre at heart, are still white, you might not like to fight against white men. We don’t know about white men; we don’t know who are friends, and who enemies. We, the Umzimvubu, fight against the Amazulu, though we are both black. Do you white men ever fight one against the other?”
“Yes,” I replied, “when nations like your great tribes disagree they fight.”
“Then are the people at war with the Amakosa of your tribe?”