Thus I reflected and then wrote a few lines of farewell in the fond and foolish hope that somehow they might find those to whom they were addressed (I have those letters still and very oddly they read to-day). This done, I tried to throw out my mind towards Brother John if he still lived, as indeed I had done for days past, so that I might inform him of our plight and, I am afraid, reproach him for having brought us to such an end by his insane carelessness or want of faith.
Whilst I was still engaged thus Babemba arrived with his soldiers to lead us off to execution. It was Hans who came to tell me that he was there. The poor old Hottentot shook me by the hand and wiped his eyes with his ragged coat-sleeve.
“Oh! Baas, this is our last journey,” he said, “and you are going to be killed, Baas, and it is all my fault, Baas, because I ought to have found a way out of the trouble which is what I was hired to do. But I can’t, my head grows so stupid. Oh! if only I could come even with Imbozwi I shouldn’t mind, and I will, I will, if I have to return as a ghost to do it. Well, Baas, you know the Predikant, your father, told us that we don’t go out like a fire, but burn again for always elsewhere——”
(“I hope not,” I thought to myself.)
“And that quite easily without anything to pay for the wood. So I hope that we shall always burn together, Baas. And meanwhile, I have brought you a little something,” and he produced what looked like a peculiarly obnoxious horseball. “You swallow this now and you will never feel anything; it is a very good medicine that my grandfather’s grandfather got from the Spirit of his tribe. You will just go to sleep as nicely as though you were very drunk, and wake up in the beautiful fire which burns without any wood and never goes out for ever and ever, Amen.”
“No, Hans,” I said, “I prefer to die with my eyes open.”
“And so would I, Baas, if I thought there was any good in keeping them open, but I don’t, for I can’t believe any more in the Snake of that black fool, Mavovo. If it had been a good Snake, it would have told him to keep clear of Beza Town, so I will swallow one of these pills and give the other to the Baas Stephen,” and he crammed the filthy mess into his mouth and with an effort got it down, as a young turkey does a ball of meal that is too big for its throat.
Then, as I heard Stephen calling me, I left him invoking a most comprehensive and polyglot curse upon the head of Imbozwi, to whom he rightly attributed all our woes.
“Our friend here says it is time to start,” said Stephen, rather shakily, for the situation seemed to have got a hold of him at last, and nodding towards old Babemba, who stood there with a cheerful smile looking as though he were going to conduct us to a wedding.
“Yes, white lord,” said Babemba, “it is time, and I have hurried so as not to keep you waiting. It will be a very fine show, for the ‘Black Elephant’ himself is going to do you the honour to be present, as will all the people of Beza Town and those for many miles round.”