They came to a unanimous decision, which was communicated to a general meeting of the tribe convened next day at the “great place.” The monster that had died on the rocks amidst the white water, was one of the creatures of the sea sent to bear the little white maiden to the land of the Tshomanè. She, when old enough, was to be the “great wife” of ’Ndepa, the chief’s “great son,” then a boy of about twelve years of age. She was a daughter of the mighty ones that dwell in the sea,—her marine nature being clearly shown by her long yellow hair, which resembled nothing but sea-weed. All the dead people strewn on the beach had been her slaves; they had now been destroyed because she no longer needed them.
The chief gave an order that no more property should be removed from the beach, and that the things taken before the washing up of the bodies were to be carefully preserved for the use of the white maiden. She had come to the land of the Tshomanè when the sea was raging and thundering against the black rocks, so her name, said the soothsayers, must be called “Gquma,”—“the roar of the sea.”
Three
In those days the European was quite unknown to the Bantu of South-Eastern Africa. Rumour had vaguely told of the advent of strange men with white, bearded faces, who had conquered the “Amalawu”—the Hottentots—by means of the thunder and lightning, over which they had command. This was, however, regarded simply as one of the many semi-mythical tales which are always current among uncivilised people. Now and then, at long intervals, strange, white-winged monsters had been seen by the Tshomanè gliding over the ocean, but these appearances had been classed with meteors, eclipses of the sun and moon, and other unexplainable phenomena. Among savages the unprecedented does not occasion nearly so much astonishment as among civilised men, for the reason that the former have but a very rudimentary idea of the laws governing cause and effect. Like the early Christians, to whom the miraculous was the normal, savages assign all the many things they do not understand to the category of the magical.
The explanation of the nature and the advent of the little white waif as given by the soothsayers was fully accepted. The fair-skinned, blue-eyed child with the long, shining, yellow locks was looked upon as a gracious gift from the undefined but dreadful powers that rule the world from the realm of the unseen, a creature to be fostered and cherished as a pledge of favour,—to be reverenced as an emanation from something that had its dwelling where the sea and the sky met, and that swayed the destinies of ordinary men from afar, something the less known the more awful. It must be borne in mind that the brandy-seller, the gun-runner, and the loafer had not as yet nearly destroyed all respect on the part of the native for the European.
Little Gquma took with strange kindness to her new surroundings. She must have possessed one of those natures—more common among women than men—which can easily assimilate themselves to new surroundings. She was apparently about seven years of age. She talked freely, but of course her language could not be understood. One word she repeated over and over again—pointing the while to herself: “Bessie, Bessie.” This was supposed to be her name, but the one given by the soothsayers quite superseded it.
Gquma remained at the kraal of Gambushe, whither all the things saved from the wreck had been carried—two large store-huts having been built for their reception. One day when one of the boxes was opened, the child caught sight of a pair of hairbrushes and a large mirror. These she at once seized, bursting into tears at the same time. She carried them away with her, and was soon afterwards seen to place the mirror standing against the side of one of the huts. Then she sat down before it, and began brushing out her long, yellow hair, speaking softly to herself the while. Every day thereafter she spent some time before the mirror, brushing her hair and sometimes weeping. In some of the other boxes other brushes were found, and these were put aside for Gquma’s use.
Three white cows had been assigned from the chief’s herd for Gquma’s support, and soon afterwards a law was enacted in terms of which all pure white calves born in the Tshomane herds were regarded as “Gquma’s cattle,” and had to be delivered, when a year old, at Gambushe’s kraal. This tribute was submitted to cheerfully by the people, and it was considered a token of good fortune when a cow gave birth to a white calf. In those days virulent cattle diseases were unknown, and in a few years “Gquma’s cattle” had increased to a herd of several hundreds. The fame of “the child of the sea” spread far and wide, and people used to come great distances to see her and her wonderful herd of white cattle.
The property salved from the wreck soon became destroyed by moths and damp, consequent on bad storage. In the course of a few years nothing whatever of the textile fabrics was left. At first some attempt was made to clothe Gquma in garments selected from the salved stores, but these were mostly of an ill fit, and soon she came to prefer the untrammelled nakedness of her little native companions. These always paid her the greatest deference, and acknowledged her authority without question. She quickly picked up the language of the tribe, and she appeared to be perfectly happy in her new surroundings.
In the eighteenth century some of the best ideals of the age of chivalry were realised among the Bantu tribes of South-Eastern Africa. Battles were fought for honour and not for plunder; in warfare the lives of women and children were respected—prisoners were never put to death, but were held at ransom. After a battle the young men of one side would often send home their shields and spears by the attendant boys, and proceed as honoured guests to the kraals of their late adversaries. It was an age of gentle manners and generous deeds, which withered for ever when the butcher Tshaka turned the land into a shambles.