The instant the white prisoners appeared outside the hut the entire population of the kraal—from the grey-headed “indoda” (indoda, man; inkwenkwee, boy; inkosikazi, chief’s wife; intombi, girl) to the woolly-pated, chubby “inkwenkwee;” from the lean and repulsive-looking “inkosikazi” to the plump little “intombi”—set up an awful and prolonged howling and caterwauling, such as would have done credit to an election mob engaged in the pleasing pastime of hooting an unpopular candidate. With this charming chorus ringing in their ears Tom and his friend were conducted by their sable guards through the midst of the kraal.
This was really the first time that Tom had seen the interior of an inhabited kraal (for it was dark when he was brought in after his capture), and in spite of his unpleasant position he cast curious glances round as he passed through. The kraal—which was but a small one—consisted of a number of beehive-shaped huts constructed of canes, wattled and filled in with clay, and thatched with reeds and long grass; the space upon which these huts were erected was inclosed by a wall or lofty hedge, formed of the branches of the “mimosa” strongly and tightly interlaced. The hut in which our friends had been kept in durance vile stood in the very centre of the inclosure, and was not above a quarter the size of the others. “About half as big, and twice as dirty as an English pig-sty, and as full of fleas as a gypsy’s van,” was Tom Flinders’ after description of his uncomfortable prison.
The party told off to escort the white prisoners to Umbodhla’s stronghold beyond the Bashee River consisted of five invalided warriors, who had received wounds during the attack on Campbell’s column on the 17th April; but although their injuries were of such a nature as to prevent their taking part in a “pitched battle” or a hard day’s bush warfare, these warriors were by no means in a weakly condition, and were perfectly capable of marching twenty or thirty miles between daylight and dark, and of resisting any attempt on the part of the prisoners to escape from their custody. The leader of the party—a most ferocious-looking savage, with a sinister and forbidding cast of countenance—was armed with an old-fashioned flint-lock “roer” of Dutch make; but his comrades carried only the usual bundle of assegais and their formidable knobkerries. The leader’s name was Waishlahla, and he, too, was a chief, but of much lower rank than Untsikana.
Quitting the kraal by a narrow opening in the inclosure wall, barely wide enough to allow of three persons passing abreast, the Caffres conducted their prisoners across some cultivated ground by which the kraal was surrounded, and ascended to the summit of the Amatolas. Traversing the range in a northeasterly direction, they presently hit upon a path that, passing down a rocky ravine, led over an extensive plain stretching far away from the base of the Amatolas to the banks of the Kei River.
Down this precipitous and dangerous path the escort proceeded at a rapid pace, forcing their prisoners to keep up with them by repeated blows, and even prods of their assegais, until they reached the mouth of the ravine; they then left the path and struck straight across country in the direction of the Kei River.
Through broken scrub and thorny mimosas, and over rough stony ground, Tom Flinders and Frank Jamieson were hurried at a pace that was well-nigh killing (for when on the march Caffres move over the ground at a sort of double stride or trot, which is terribly trying to those unaccustomed to such rapid travelling) until at length their guards came to a halt on the banks of a small stream. Worn out with heat and fatigue, and suffering intense pain from their bleeding and swollen feet, the weary prisoners—after a long refreshing draught of cool water—sank down on the veldt with a sigh of relief; but one of the escort immediately seized Frank by the collar and dragged him up again, and Waishlahla, severing the thongs that bound his arms, ordered him to strip. Frank hesitated for a moment, and was about to remonstrate, when a sharp blow over the shoulders reminded him that resistance was worse than useless; and so, gulping down his wrath, he threw off all his garments, his shirt excepted, and flung them on the ground.
“Now you may lie down,” said the chief with a savage grin. “You can have an hour’s rest, and then we go on again;” and picking up the clothes he distributed them amongst the escort, whilst Frank, with an exclamation of disgust, stretched himself beside his friend, who had been watching these proceedings with surprise and indignation.
“We’re in a pleasant fix, and no mistake,” whispered Tom as they lay side by side; “why are they treating you in this manner? I thought they intended to leave you your clothes, but now it appears we’re to fare alike!”
“I suppose it is the Caffres’ nature to maltreat those who fall into their power,” answered Frank in the same low tone. “You see as long as Untsikana was present this fellow Waishlahla dared not annoy us, but now—well, you ought to remember the good old nursery rhyme, ‘When the cat’s away the mice will play!’”
“Precious rough play,” growled the other. Then after a pause he said, “I’m afraid we shall not have much chance of getting away from these brutes; they’re a deal too wide-awake.”