I waited yet a little longer, then became certain one or other was the case, for the fight seemed over, while Metilulu’s regiment were already forming into order. Consequently, thinking it as well now to join them, I hastened from the bush and entered the kraal. It presented a horrible sight to one who, like myself, was unused to bloodshed and battlefields, though no doubt it was not so ghastly as that presented by one of our civilised engagements; for here were no shattered limbs, no torn gaping wounds, no headless trunks, and bodies rent in twain by cannon shot. The assagai, or, occasionally, the knob-kerrie, had alone been used; and strewn over the ground were the dead forms of the Kaffirs, the spears which had caused their deaths yet remaining buried deep up the shaft in the victims, the victors not having had time to collect them. In some parts, where the fight had been the thickest, they laid in heaps; yet, with but few exceptions, the positions of all retained a look of graceful, easy repose. Notwithstanding, to me, it was a sickening sight to behold so many who, but an hour before, had been full of healthful life, now lying there extended on the plain—dead.
On going a little further I perceived Metilulu standing in the isibaya, inspecting the numbering the cattle by some of his men, while others were forming the survivors into their proper regiments, to discover which of the tribe had fallen. Having no wish to join either I strolled on, wondering in my own mind as to what they intended to do with the slain, for to leave them where they were under the tropical sun of day would soon render the spot unbearable and detrimental to the existence of the survivors.
Just at this moment I chanced to come across Tugela, bearing a message from Metilulu to one of his warriors, and, as I was going his way, I asked him with some curiosity, “How the fight had terminated.”
“All those who had not been slain,” he said, “had finally yielded and consented to submit to Metilulu, accepting him for their chief. Therefore, as the kraal was ready for immediate occupation, and stood in a much better situation regarding vegetation and water than his, the little Chief had issued orders for all the huts to be taken care of, as he intended at once to make the place his own abode, while the vanquished were to build themselves a kraal a little distance off.”
“But what will you do with these heaps of slain?” I asked. “If they remain here long the air will be full of pestilential vapours.”
“Those who like to bury their friends have permission to do so,” rejoined Tugela, “The others will be dragged far into the bush for the wild beasts to devour, or thrown into the rivers for the crocodiles. We never bury them as you English do.”
Saying which he hurried on with his message; and, even as he went, I perceived numerous parties of “boys” removing the fallen men for the purpose Tugela had stated. Whether they ascertained if all they took were really dead, particularly when the bodies were those of the enemy, I cannot tell, but I rather think not.
On being once more alone I continued my walk, and had the satisfaction of relieving from under the débris of a fallen hut a poor woman with an assagai wound in her side, who immediately, with much chattering, scurried off to the bush, clasping a baby in her arms, and leaving me no time to tell her that she would be quite safe if she liked to remain at the kraal.
It was soon after this that I came to a second demolished dwelling, from whence I fancied there issued murmuring sounds of life. Thinking I might be so fortunate as to rescue another unfortunate being, I listened attentively, and speedily, by the slight upheaving of the rubbish, was convinced some person was beneath—whereupon I set to work as fast as I could to clear away the heap so as to make an opening, all the while assuring those inside that there was no cause for fear, the fight was over, and peace concluded. I had nearly effected my purpose, when suddenly a grizzled head was thrust up into the moonlight—the ruined hut looking something like a hencoop fastened about the neck. After glancing quickly round, the possessor of the head exclaimed, to my utter amazement, “Well, jib-booms and top-sails, but this is a queer scene, this is.”
I reeled back mute with astonishment at the words, which recalled to me the apparition’s attention, and he continued—