Chapter Twenty Four.
Overtaken by a Storm—Poor Zenuta—We Start for Dear Old England—My Native Village.
Umatula leading the way, and Jack giving me the support of his arm—for what with my lame foot and the thorns having unmercifully torn my flesh, I felt weak—we all four proceeded to the stream, that was a little more than a hundred yards distant, and which proved to be a small tributary of the river Umooli. Here, slaking our thirst, we bivouacked and enjoyed as good a dinner as we could procure, of which Zenuta stood in much need; then we forded the stream, dashing the water and shouting as we went to scare the crocodiles that congregated in rather large numbers on the banks.
When on the other side, while preparing to continue our journey, my attention was drawn to the sky, where vast masses of dark clouds were collecting in black mountainous heaps, at the same time that a hot air, as from a furnace, made the atmosphere oppressive to the lungs.
Turning, I was about to point out these ominous signs to Umatula, when I perceived by his awe-struck face that he too had seen there was a storm of no common character threatening. The Kaffir, it appears, has a great fear of thunder-storms, and will give the witch-doctors high prices for charms to preserve them from danger during these periods. Zenuta, like Umatula, had several, and eagerly she implored me to wear one, which, to please her, I certainly would have done, had I not felt it against my religion to do so. Would that these charms had indeed been efficacious. Anxiously Umatula glanced up and about him; then indicating a hillside at a very few yards off, warned us to seek shelter there, and as quickly as possible, for perhaps the storm would be down before we could even reach it.
Dashing forward, however, we arrived in safety, and found there a cave formed by nature. Into this we huddled to escape the floods of rain which Umatula prophesied would be sure to come.
Scarcely had we fairly ensconced ourselves than the heavens grew as black as night; then the dark clouds were rent asunder by a vivid, an awful flash of lightning. All around seemed ablaze, as if fire had rained on the earth, while overhead the thunder began to roll—not clap after clap, but in one continuous roar, like the succession of thousands of cannon, which shook the ground beneath us as if an earthquake were taking place.
Never have I seen anything so stupendously awful—too awful even to be grand; for all nature was of one pitchy hue, only illumined at brief intervals by the white blinding lightning. Then down came the rain in sheets, as if the floodgates of some hundreds of Niagaras had been suddenly removed, changing the plain we had so lately traversed in a few seconds into an enormous lake.
The Kaffir sat, his face hidden as much as possible to avoid the glaring light. Zenuta crouched in a corner, while Jack and I, save an occasional exclamation of wonder or awe, also remained silent, feeling it was no time to talk.