No moment, it appeared, could have been more opportune than that I had chosen to speak about my departure, for the Chief was in the most obliging of humours. When, however, after a long talk respecting Kaffir affairs, I managed, by Mr Ferguson’s aid, to bring the subject round to our own land and my strong desire to visit it—ending by stating how I had heard from my friends that a white settlement was not far off—if he would but grant me a guide and his royal permission to return, his face grew grave and my heart sunk.
Neither, however, refusing nor acquiescing, he asked why it was I could not be happy there. To which I answered, “that all who were dear to me, all who made life worth living, in my eyes, were in England, and my heart was pining for them. Indeed, I felt I could not exist, but must die, if kept longer in uncertainty of their fate.”
I spoke as eloquently as I could, and Mr Ferguson also did what he was able, but Metilulu seemed in no way ready to grant the request. He said he liked me, that he had proved this even more than I knew—of course he referred to the rain-maker’s evil prophecy—and he thought I was so happy that I would never have wished to leave the tribe.
In return to this really kind speech, I warmly acknowledged the extreme kindness and hospitality which had been shown me, and confessed that I had not expected it, adding how great would be my pride when in England, if he would permit me to return there, to recount to my countrymen his noble behaviour to a poor shipwrecked sailor.
This appeared rather to please him, and after a pause he said,—
“Then you all wish to leave me?”
“Not so,” broke in Mr Ferguson, “if you will grant me permission, I would desire yet to remain with your tribe.”
Metilulu, who had, I fancied, already taken a liking to the minister, as he frequently addressed himself to him, nodded approval; then saying he could not give his decision at that moment, he gave us permission to withdraw, appearing no longer desirous to continue a conversation which had taken so unpleasant a turn.
I could not help feeling rather flattered by the decided aversion Metilulu showed to part with me, and yet also I was grieved at causing him any regret, after the real friendship and generosity I had experienced at his hands, and tried to show these feelings as plainly as I could, both in speech and expression, when I arose with Mr Ferguson and Thompson to take our leave.
On retiring, instead of returning to the kraal, we went towards the bush, and there, under the shadow of the trees, sat down to talk of our own affairs, and what was the likely answer Metilulu would give. Mr Ferguson said he believed it would be in the affirmative, though he did not like my going.