King Solomon's Mines
picture now as it appeared night after night by the light of our
primitive lamp; Good tossing to and fro, his features emaciated, his
eyes shining large and luminous, and jabbering nonsense by the yard;
and seated on the ground by his side, her back resting against the wall
of the hut, the soft-eyed, shapely Kukuana beauty, her face, weary as
it was with her long vigil, animated by a look of infinite
compassion—or was it something more than compassion?
For two days we thought that he must die, and crept about with heavy
hearts.
Only Foulata would not believe it.
“He will live,” she said.
For three hundred yards or more around Twala’s chief hut, where the
sufferer lay, there was silence; for by the king’s order all who lived
in the habitations behind it, except Sir Henry and myself, had been
removed, lest any noise should come to the sick man’s ears. One night,
it was the fifth of Good’s illness, as was my habit, I went across to
see how he was doing before turning in for a few hours.
I entered the hut carefully. The lamp placed upon the floor showed the
figure of Good tossing no more, but lying quite still.
So it had come at last! In the bitterness of my heart I gave something
like a sob.
“Hush—h—h!” came from the patch of dark shadow behind Good’s head.
Then, creeping closer, I saw that he was not dead, but sleeping
soundly, with Foulata’s taper fingers clasped tightly in his poor white
hand. The crisis had passed, and he would live. He slept like that for
eighteen hours; and I scarcely like to say it, for fear I should not be
believed, but during the entire period did this devoted girl sit by
him, fearing that if she moved and drew away her hand it would wake
him. What she must have suffered from cramp and weariness, to say
nothing of want of food, nobody will ever know; but it is the fact
that, when at last he woke, she had to be carried away—her limbs were
so stiff that she could not move them.
After the turn had once been taken, Good’s recovery was rapid and
complete. It was not till he was nearly well that Sir Henry told him of
all he owed to Foulata; and when he came to the story of how she sat by
his side for eighteen hours, fearing lest by moving she should wake
him, the honest sailor’s eyes filled with tears. He turned and went
straight to the hut where Foulata was preparing the mid-day meal, for
we were back in our old quarters now, taking me with him to interpret
in case he could not make his meaning clear to her, though I am bound
to say that she understood him marvellously as a rule, considering how
extremely limited was his foreign vocabulary.
“Tell her,” said Good, “that I owe her my life, and that I will never
forget her kindness to my dying day.”
I interpreted, and under her dark skin she actually seemed to blush.
Turning to him with one of those swift and graceful motions that in her
always reminded me of the flight of a wild bird, Foulata answered
softly, glancing at him with her large brown eyes—
“Nay, my lord; my lord forgets! Did he not save _my_ life, and am I not
my lord’s handmaiden?”
It will be observed that the young lady appeared entirely to have
forgotten the share which Sir Henry and myself had taken in her
preservation from Twala’s clutches. But that is the way of women! I
remember my dear wife was just the same. Well, I retired from that
little interview sad at heart. I did not like Miss Foulata’s soft
glances, for I knew the fatal amorous propensities of sailors in
general, and of Good in particular.
There are two things in the world, as I have found out, which cannot be
prevented: you cannot keep a Zulu from fighting, or a sailor from
falling in love upon the slightest provocation!
It was a few days after this last occurrence that Ignosi held his great
“indaba,” or council, and was formally recognised as king by the
“indunas,” or head men, of Kukuanaland. The spectacle was a most
imposing one, including as it did a grand review of troops. On this day
the remaining fragments of the Greys were formally paraded, and in the
face of the army thanked for their splendid conduct in the battle. To
each man the king made a large present of cattle, promoting them one
and all to the rank of officers in the new corps of Greys which was in
process of formation. An order was also promulgated throughout the
length and breadth of Kukuanaland that, whilst we honoured the country
by our presence, we three were to be greeted with the royal salute, and
to be treated with the same ceremony and respect that was by custom
accorded to the king. Also the power of life and death was publicly
conferred upon us. Ignosi, too, in the presence of his people,
reaffirmed the promises which he had made, to the effect that no man’s
blood should be shed without trial, and that witch-hunting should cease
in the land.
When the ceremony was over we waited upon Ignosi, and informed him that
we were now anxious to investigate the mystery of the mines to which
Solomon’s Road ran, asking him if he had discovered anything about
them.
“My friends,” he answered, “I have discovered this. It is there that
the three great figures sit, who here are called the ‘Silent Ones,’ and
to whom Twala would have offered the girl Foulata as a sacrifice. It is
there, too, in a great cave deep in the mountain, that the kings of the
land are buried; there ye shall find Twala’s body, sitting with those
who went before him. There, also, is a deep pit, which, at some time,
long-dead men dug out, mayhap for the stones ye speak of, such as I
have heard men in Natal tell of at Kimberley. There, too, in the Place
of Death is a secret chamber, known to none but the king and Gagool.
But Twala, who knew it, is dead, and I know it not, nor know I what is
in it. Yet there is a legend in the land that once, many generations
gone, a white man crossed the mountains, and was led by a woman to the
secret chamber and shown the wealth hidden in it. But before he could
take it she betrayed him, and he was driven by the king of that day
back to the mountains, and since then no man has entered the place.”
“The story is surely true, Ignosi, for on the mountains we found the
white man,” I said.
“Yes, we found him. And now I have promised you that if ye can come to
that chamber, and the stones are there—”
“The gem upon thy forehead proves that they are there,” I put in,
pointing to the great diamond I had taken from Twala’s dead brows.
“Mayhap; if they are there,” he said, “ye shall have as many as ye can
take hence—if indeed ye would leave me, my brothers.”
“First we must find the chamber,” said I.
“There is but one who can show it to thee—Gagool.”
“And if she will not?”
“Then she must die,” said Ignosi sternly. “I have saved her alive but
for this. Stay, she shall choose,” and calling to a messenger he
ordered Gagool to be brought before him.
In a few minutes she came, hurried along by two guards, whom she was
cursing as she walked.
“Leave her,” said the king to the guards.
So soon as their support was withdrawn, the withered old bundle—for she
looked more like a bundle than anything else, out of which her two
bright and wicked eyes gleamed like those of a snake—sank in a heap on
to the floor.
“What will ye with me, Ignosi?” she piped. “Ye dare not touch me. If ye
touch me I will slay you as ye sit. Beware of my magic.”
“Thy magic could not save Twala, old she-wolf, and it cannot hurt me,”
was the answer. “Listen; I will this of thee, that thou reveal to us
the chamber where are the shining stones.”
“Ha! ha!” she piped, “none know its secret but I, and I will never tell
thee. The white devils shall go hence empty-handed.”
“Thou shalt tell me. I will make thee tell me.”
“How, O king? Thou art great, but can thy power wring the truth from a
woman?”
“It is difficult, yet will I do so.”
“How, O king?”
“Nay, thus; if thou tellest not thou shalt slowly die.”
“Die!” she shrieked in terror and fury; “ye dare not touch me—man, ye
know not who I am. How old think ye am I? I knew your fathers, and your
fathers’ fathers’ fathers. When the country was young I was here; when
the country grows old I shall still be here. I cannot die unless I be
killed by chance, for none dare slay me.”
“Yet will I slay thee. See, Gagool, mother of evil, thou art so old
that thou canst no longer love thy life. What can life be to such a hag
as thou, who hast no shape, nor form, nor hair, nor teeth—hast naught,
save wickedness and evil eyes? It will be mercy to make an end of thee,
Gagool.”
“Thou fool,” shrieked the old fiend, “thou accursed fool, deemest thou
that life is sweet only to the young? It is not so, and naught thou
knowest of the heart of man to think it. To the young, indeed, death is
sometimes welcome, for the young can feel. They love and suffer, and it
wrings them to see their beloved pass to the land of shadows. But the
old feel not, they love not, and, _ha! ha!_ they laugh to see another
go out into the dark; _ha! ha!_ they laugh to see the evil that is done
under the stars. All they love is life, the warm, warm sun, and the
sweet, sweet air. They are afraid of the cold, afraid of the cold and
the dark, _ha! ha! ha!_” and the old hag writhed in ghastly merriment
on the ground.
“Cease thine evil talk and answer me,” said Ignosi angrily. “Wilt thou
show the place where the stones are, or wilt thou not? If thou wilt not
thou diest, even now,” and he seized a spear and held it over her.
“I will not show it; thou darest not kill me, darest not! He who slays
me will be accursed for ever.”
Slowly Ignosi brought down the spear till it pricked the prostrate heap
of rags.
With a wild yell Gagool sprang to her feet, then fell again and rolled
upon the floor.
“Nay, I will show thee. Only let me live, let me sit in the sun and
have a bit of meat to suck, and I will show thee.”
“It is well. I thought that I should find a way to reason with thee.
To-morrow shalt thou go with Infadoos and my white brothers to the
place, and beware how thou failest, for if thou showest it not, then
thou shalt slowly die. I have spoken.”
“I will not fail, Ignosi. I always keep my word—_ha! ha! ha!_ Once
before a woman showed the chamber to a white man, and behold! evil
befell him,” and here her wicked eyes glinted. “Her name was Gagool
also. Perchance I was that woman.”
“Thou liest,” I said, “that was ten generations gone.”
“Mayhap, mayhap; when one lives long one forgets. Perhaps it was my
mother’s mother who told me; surely her name was Gagool also. But mark,
ye will find in the place where the bright things are a bag of hide
full of stones. The man filled that bag, but he never took it away.
Evil befell him, I say, evil befell him! Perhaps it was my mother’s
mother who told me. It will be a merry journey—we can see the bodies of
those who died in the battle as we go. Their eyes will be gone by now,
and their ribs will be hollow. _Ha! ha! ha!_”
CHAPTER XVI.
THE PLACE OF DEATH
It was already dark on the third day after the scene described in the
previous chapter when we camped in some huts at the foot of the “Three
Witches,” as the triangle of mountains is called to which Solomon’s
Great Road runs. Our party consisted of our three selves and Foulata,
who waited on us—especially on Good—Infadoos, Gagool, who was borne
along in a litter, inside which she could be heard muttering and
cursing all day long, and a party of guards and attendants. The
mountains, or rather the three peaks of the mountain, for the mass was
evidently the result of a solitary upheaval, were, as I have said, in
the form of a triangle, of which the base was towards us, one peak
being on our right, one on our left, and one straight in front of us.