Chapter Sixteen.
Faithful unto Death.
And now night once more descended upon East Utah, and the prisoner knew that he had one day less to live. Still, he kept up heart and remained on the qui vive for any opportunity of escape; and this at last presented itself, as he had feared and yet hoped, through the medium of his friend the officer.
The Mormons had again withdrawn the night guard, taking only the precaution of leaving Grenville’s irons on him even while in prison, and the officer, having said good-night and locked him in, quietly took his way home; but he never reached it, for in another ten seconds his brains were strewn about the roadway, his corpse thrown into the river, and Amaxosa, possessed of the key, had opened the prison and was shaking hands with his chief. He was, however, much taken aback at finding his friend in chains; still, neither hesitated to plunge into the water, which of course drowned the clanking of the irons, and both were soon outside the walls, receiving the suppressed congratulations of Myzukulwa.
Progress now proved very slow indeed, owing to our hero’s fettered state, and after a mile had been compassed in the water, unavailing efforts were made to break or loosen the chains; then, seeing that much valuable time was being lost, Amaxosa went ahead at a run to fetch the quagga, whilst his brother assisted Grenville in his slow progress towards liberty.
Never before had restraint appeared so irksome to our friend. It was certainly probable that he was considered safe in his prison for the night; but, on the other hand, should the prophet wish to talk with him—a not unusual occurrence, as we have seen—at night, or should the officer be missed by his friends, a search would of course be instituted, the hue and cry raised, and knowing that he would strike out for the plateau, the Mormons would immediately pursue him at speed. Grenville fairly groaned at the thought of being again recaught in consequence of their miserable and cowardly cunning in keeping him so heavily ironed.
In East Utah it fell out precisely as the fugitive had feared; the officer was wanted, searched for, and, as he could not be found, his prisoner was next looked up; then finding the bird flown, the community at once determined that treachery had been at work, and an hour after Grenville’s escape fifty men were on his trail, vowing deadly vengeance upon their recreant officer, whilst he, poor soul!—or, rather, all that remained of him—was bobbing up and down in the River of Death as it glided sullenly along its course, carrying to the vast and wandering ocean the message of the peaceful sky. When not quite half-way to the plateau, and just as the fugitive pair reached a narrow forest track where bush and timber was piled up like an enormous tangled wall on either side, the Mormons overtook them, and Myzukulwa faced round as a noble stag turns at bay, and determined to “die in silence, biting hard amidst the dying hounds.”
The moon streamed in at the entrance to the forest path and shone full on his magnificent warlike figure, his stern forbidding face, and his glittering spear, and for a moment the Mormons, being without fire-arms, hung in the wind. Seeing this, the Zulu shook hands with Grenville. “Let my father escape,” he said; “he cannot fight with his hands tied, and his faithful son, the child of the Undi, will stop this path—ay, and pile it up with the dead bodies of these evil dogs, even as my father slew them in hundreds by the dark River of Death; and when the whole nation of these cunning witch-finders is dead, and my father is free to come and go as he will, then let him think of his son Myzukulwa, the son of Isanusi, and take away his body from these low people, and bury him with his face towards the land of the people of the Undi. I have spoken;” and giving Grenville a long and yearning look, which made the tears start to his eyes, the Zulu turned to face the foe, and, uttering his awful war-cry, struck down two of the Mormons who had approached within reach of his spear.