Hendricks the Hunter; Or, The Border Farm: A Tale of Zululand

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“I wish that Hendricks and Crawford, with that gallant little fellow Lionel, had arrived,” observed Percy. “I cannot help thinking that some accident may have happened to them, or they would have been here before now. They and the servants would have added greatly to our strength. Indeed, I don’t think the Zulus, if they were here, would venture to attack us. I have not, by the bye, told you much about Lionel, mother.”

“No; but your friend Denis has, and he described to us the gallant way in which you saved the boy from being drowned or destroyed by a crocodile,” answered Mrs Broderick.

“I was too glad to be of service to Mr Hendricks, who had treated my friend Crawford and me so kindly in letting us accompany him, besides which, I had a strong liking for the young fellow, whom I should have been very sorry to have lost. I first fancied that he was either the son or nephew of Mr Hendricks, but he afterwards told me that he was neither the one nor the other, but that he had been rescued by Hendricks during a trip he made some years before into Zululand.”

Percy went on to give an account of Lionel’s history. Mrs Broderick listened with deep attention, and inquired the age and appearance of her son’s friend, which Percy described.

“Did you ever hear, Percy, that your youngest brother, during the journey we made in coming here, was lost? We always supposed that he perished with his nurse, who was killed and thrown into the river by the savages. Her body was discovered some time afterwards, though our child’s was never found.”

“Do you know, mother, I cannot help thinking that Lionel must be that young brother of mine,” exclaimed Percy. “I am aware that I ought not to raise your hopes, but I felt drawn towards him from the first; and, as Denis will tell you, he very soon learned to speak English. He remembered a lady he felt sure was his mother, and a tall gentleman he supposed to be his father, although he had no recollection of how he came into the hands of the Zulus. It is strange that he should have been found in the kraal of Mangaleesu, who is now here. He, however, can give very little information as to Lionel’s history, as he was brought to the kraal by another tribe who were afterwards destroyed. Besides Lionel, Mangaleesu and his wife are the only inhabitants of the whole kraal who escaped. Denis, however, knows the exact particulars better than I do, as he joined Hendricks the very next day, and has been with Lionel nearly ever since.”

Mrs Broderick, on hearing this, could scarcely restrain her agitation. She naturally at once felt sure that her child’s life had by some wonderful means been preserved. Her impulse was to hurry forthwith to gain more particulars from Denis, and to talk over the subject with her husband, but she felt that it would be wrong to draw off their attention from their duties, engaged as they were in guarding the house. She then thought of visiting Mangaleesu and Kalinda, who had been placed in a small room at the back of the house. She knew enough of the language to speak to them; but Percy assured her that they would not be able to give her more information than he had done.

“I don’t know that Denis can do so either,” he added. “We must wait until Hendricks and Lionel himself arrive, and we are sure to hear of them in a day or two, unless some accident has happened, and I don’t know why we should expect that.”

Poor Mrs Broderick’s heart sank within her as she thought of the possibility that such, notwithstanding Percy’s hopes, might have been the case. She could not but believe that Lionel was her long-lost boy, and she longed with all her mother’s heart for his arrival. She would know him by his features, and by the tone of his voice, and she recollected two small marks on the shoulders of her boy, which, if found upon Lionel, would leave no doubt as to his identity, as that must satisfy others as well as herself.

Though she wished Percy to go to sleep, she could scarcely refrain from continuing to talk with him on the subject. At last his incoherent answers, and finally his total silence, showed her that he was slumbering soundly. She went to her daughters’ room to give them an account of what she had heard. They all three were unanimous in believing that the brave boy Denis had been speaking to them about was their brother. They had heard the history of little Walter’s loss, although they never alluded to it, and they had often observed a shade of melancholy pass over their mother’s countenance, which they guessed was owing to her thinking on the subject.