CHAPTER VII
CAPTAIN ARCOLL TELLS A TALE
It froze in the night, harder than was common on the Berg even inwinter, and as I crossed the road next morning it was covered withrime. All my fears had gone, and my mind was strung high withexpectation. Five pencilled words may seem a small thing to build hopeon, but it was enough for me, and I went about my work in the storewith a reasonably light heart. One of the first things I did was totake stock of our armoury. There were five sporting Mausers of a cheapmake, one Mauser pistol, a Lee-Speed carbine, and a littlenickel-plated revolver. There was also Japp's shot-gun, an oldhammered breech-loader, as well as the gun I had brought out with me.There was a good supply of cartridges, including a stock for a .400express which could not be found. I pocketed the revolver, andsearched till I discovered a good sheath-knife. If fighting was inprospect I might as well look to my arms.
All the morning I sat among flour and sugar possessing my soul in asmuch patience as I could command. Nothing came down the white roadfrom the west. The sun melted the rime; the flies came out and buzzedin the window; Japp got himself out of bed, brewed strong coffee, andwent back to his slumbers. Presently it was dinner-time, and I wentover to a silent meal with Wardlaw. When I returned I must have fallenasleep over a pipe, for the next thing I knew I was blinking drowsilyat the patch of sun in the door, and listening for footsteps. In thedead stillness of the afternoon I thought I could discern a shufflingin the dust. I got up and looked out, and there, sure enough, was someone coming down the road.
But it was only a Kaffir, and a miserable-looking object at that. Ihad never seen such an anatomy. It was a very old man, bent almostdouble, and clad in a ragged shirt and a pair of foul khaki trousers.He carried an iron pot, and a few belongings were tied up in a dirtyhandkerchief. He must have been a _dacha_[1] smoker, for he coughedhideously, twisting his body with the paroxysms. I had seen the typebefore--the old broken-down native who had no kin to support him, andno tribe to shelter him. They wander about the roads, cooking theirwretched meals by their little fires, till one morning they are foundstiff under a bush.
The native gave me a good-day in Kaffir, then begged for tobacco or ahandful of mealie-meal.
I asked him where he came from.
'From the west, Inkoos,' he said, 'and before that from the south. Itis a sore road for old bones.'
I went into the store to fetch some meal, and when I came out he hadshuffled close to the door. He had kept his eyes on the ground, butnow he looked up at me, and I thought he had very bright eyes for suchan old wreck.
'The nights are cold, Inkoos,' he wailed, 'and my folk are scattered,and I have no kraal. The aasvogels follow me, and I can hear theblesbok.' 'What about the blesbok?' I asked with a start.
'The blesbok are changing ground,' he said, and looked me straight inthe face.
'And where are the hunters?' I asked. 'They are here and behind me,' hesaid in English, holding out his pot for my meal, while he began toedge into the middle of the road.
I followed, and, speaking English, asked him if he knew of a man namedColles.
'I come from him, young Baas. Where is your house? Ah, the school.There will be a way in by the back window? See that it is open, forI'll be there shortly.' Then lifting up his voice he called down inSesuto all manner of blessings on me for my kindness, and wentshuffling down the sunlit road, coughing like a volcano.
In high excitement I locked up the store and went over to Mr Wardlaw.No children had come to school that day, and he was sitting idle,playing patience. 'Lock the door,' I said, 'and come into my room.We're on the brink of explanations.'
In about twenty minutes the bush below the back-window parted and theKaffir slipped out. He grinned at me, and after a glance round, hoppedvery nimbly over the sill. Then he examined the window and pulled thecurtains.
'Is the outer door shut?' he asked in excellent English. 'Well, get mesome hot water, and any spare clothes you may possess, Mr Crawfurd. Imust get comfortable before we begin our _indaba_.[2] We've the nightbefore us, so there's plenty of time. But get the house clear, and seethat nobody disturbs me at my toilet. I am a modest man, and sensitiveabout my looks.'
I brought him what he wanted, and looked on at an amazingtransformation. Taking a phial from his bundle, he rubbed some liquidon his face and neck and hands, and got rid of the black colouring.His body and legs he left untouched, save that he covered them withshirt and trousers from my wardrobe. Then he pulled off a scaly wig,and showed beneath it a head of close-cropped grizzled hair. In tenminutes the old Kaffir had been transformed into an activesoldierly-looking man of maybe fifty years. Mr Wardlaw stared as if hehad seen a resurrection.
'I had better introduce myself,' he said, when he had taken the edgeoff his thirst and hunger. 'My name is Arcoll, Captain James Arcoll.I am speaking to Mr Crawfurd, the storekeeper, and Mr Wardlaw, theschoolmaster, of Blaauwildebeestefontein. Where, by the way, is MrPeter Japp? Drunk? Ah, yes, it was always his failing. The quorum,however, is complete without him.'
By this time it was about sunset, and I remember I cocked my ear tohear the drums beat. Captain Arcoll noticed the movement as he noticedall else. 'You're listening for the drums, but you won't hear them.That business is over here. To-night they beat in Swaziland and downinto the Tonga border. Three days more, unless you and I, Mr Crawfurd,are extra smart, and they'll be hearing them in Durban.'
It was not till the lamp was lit, the fire burning well, and the houselocked and shuttered, that Captain Arcoll began his tale.
'First,' he said, 'let me hear what you know. Colles told me that youwere a keen fellow, and had wind of some mystery here. You wrote himabout the way you were spied on, but I told him to take no notice.Your affair, Mr Crawfurd, had to wait on more urgent matters. Now,what do you think is happening?' I spoke very shortly, weighing mywords, for I felt I was on trial before these bright eyes. 'I thinkthat some kind of native rising is about to commence.'
'Ay,' he said dryly, 'you would, and your evidence would be the spyingand drumming. Anything more?'
'I have come on the tracks of a lot of I.D.B. work in theneighbourhood. The natives have some supply of diamonds, which theysell bit by bit, and I don't doubt but they have been getting guns withthe proceeds.'
He nodded, 'Have you any notion who has been engaged in the job?'
I had it on my tongue to mention Japp, but forbore, remembering mypromise. 'I can name one,' I said, 'a little yellow Portugoose, whocalls himself Henriques or Hendricks. He passed by here the day beforeyesterday.'
Captain Arcoll suddenly was consumed with quiet laughter. 'Did younotice the Kaffir who rode with him and carried his saddlebags? Well,he's one of my men. Henriques would have a fit if he knew what was inthose saddlebags. They contain my change of clothes, and other oddsand ends. Henriques' own stuff is in a hole in the spruit. A handyway of getting one's luggage sent on, eh? The bags are waiting for meat a place I appointed.' And again Captain Arcoll indulged his senseof humour. Then he became grave, and returned to his examination.
'A rising, with diamonds as the sinews of war, and Henriques as thechief agent. Well and good! But who is to lead, and what are thenatives going to rise about?'
'I know nothing further, but I have made some guesses.'
'Let's hear your guesses,' he said, blowing smoke rings from his pipe.
'I think the main mover is a great black minister who calls himselfJohn Laputa.'
Captain Arcoll nearly sprang out of his chair. 'Now, how on earth didyou find that out? Quick, Mr Crawfurd, tell me all you know, for thisis desperately important.'
I began at the beginning, and told him the story of what happened onthe Kirkcaple shore. Then I spoke of my sight of him on board ship,his talk with Henriques about Blaauwildebeestefontein, and his hurrieddeparture from Durban.
Captain Arcoll listened intently, and at the mention of Durban helaughed. 'You and I seem to have been running on lines
which nearlytouched. I thought I had grabbed my friend Laputa that night inDurban, but I was too cocksure and he slipped off. Do you know, MrCrawfurd, you have been on the right trail long before me? When didyou say you saw him at his devil-worship? Seven years ago? Then youwere the first man alive to know the Reverend John in his true colours.You knew seven years ago what I only found out last year.'
'Well, that's my story,' I said. 'I don't know what the rising isabout, but there's one other thing I can tell you. There's some kindof sacred place for the Kaffirs, and I've found out where it is.' Igave him a short account of my adventures in the Rooirand.
He smoked silently for a bit after I had finished. 'You've got theskeleton of the whole thing right, and you only want the filling up.And you found out everything for yourself? Colles was right; you'renot wanting in intelligence, Mr Crawfurd.'
It was not much of a compliment, but I have never been more pleased inmy life. This slim, grizzled man, with his wrinkled face and brighteyes, was clearly not lavish in his praise. I felt it was no smallthing to have earned a word of commendation.
'And now I will tell you my story,' said Captain Arcoll. 'It is a longstory, and I must begin far back. It has taken me years to decipherit, and, remember, I've been all my life at this native business. Ican talk every dialect, and I have the customs of every tribe by heart.I've travelled over every mile of South Africa, and Central and EastAfrica too. I was in both the Matabele wars, and I've seen a heap ofother fighting which never got into the papers. So what I tell you youcan take as gospel, for it is knowledge that was not learned in a day.'
He puffed away, and then asked suddenly, 'Did you ever hear of PresterJohn?'
'The man that lived in Central Asia?' I asked, with a reminiscence of astory-book I had as a boy. 'No, no,' said Mr Wardlaw, 'he means theKing of Abyssinia in the fifteenth century. I've been reading allabout him. He was a Christian, and the Portuguese sent expeditionafter expedition to find him, but they never got there. Albuquerquewanted to make an alliance with him and capture the Holy Sepulchre.'
Arcoll nodded. 'That's the one I mean. There's not very much knownabout him, except Portuguese legends. He was a sort of Christian, butI expect that his practices were as pagan as his neighbours'. There isno doubt that he was a great conqueror. Under him and his successors,the empire of Ethiopia extended far south of Abyssinia away down to theGreat Lakes.'
'How long did this power last?' I asked wondering to what tale this wasprologue.
'That's a mystery no scholar has ever been able to fathom. Anyhow, thecentre of authority began to shift southward, and the warrior tribesmoved in that direction. At the end of the sixteenth century the chiefnative power was round about the Zambesi. The Mazimba and theMakaranga had come down from the Lake Nyassa quarter, and there was astrong kingdom in Manicaland. That was the Monomotapa that thePortuguese thought so much of.'
Wardlaw nodded eagerly. The story was getting into ground that he knewabout.
'The thing to remember is that all these little empires thoughtthemselves the successors of Prester John. It took me a long time tofind this out, and I have spent days in the best libraries in Europeover it. They all looked back to a great king in the north, whom theycalled by about twenty different names. They had forgotten about hisChristianity, but they remembered that he was a conqueror.
'Well, to make a long story short, Monomotapa disappeared in time, andfresh tribes came down from the north, and pushed right down to Nataland the Cape. That is how the Zulus first appeared. They brought withthem the story of Prester John, but by this time it had ceased to be ahistorical memory, and had become a religious cult. They worshipped agreat Power who had been their ancestor, and the favourite Zulu wordfor him was Umkulunkulu. The belief was perverted into fifty differentforms, but this was the central creed--that Umkulunkulu had been thefather of the tribe, and was alive as a spirit to watch over them.
'They brought more than a creed with them. Somehow or other, somefetich had descended from Prester John by way of the Mazimba and Angoniand Makaranga. What it is I do not know, but it was always in thehands of the tribe which for the moment held the leadership. The greatnative wars of the sixteenth century, which you can read about in thePortuguese historians, were not for territory but for leadership, andmainly for the possession of this fetich. Anyhow, we know that theZulus brought it down with them. They called it _Ndhlondhlo_, whichmeans the Great Snake, but I don't suppose that it was any kind ofsnake. The snake was their totem, and they would naturally call theirmost sacred possession after it.
'Now I will tell you a thing that few know. You have heard of Tchaka.He was a sort of black Napoleon early in the last century, and he madethe Zulus the paramount power in South Africa, slaughtering about twomillion souls to accomplish it. Well, he had the fetich, whatever itwas, and it was believed that he owed his conquests to it. Mosilikatsetried to steal it, and that was why he had to fly to Matabeleland. Butwith Tchaka it disappeared. Dingaan did not have it, nor Panda, andCetewayo never got it, though he searched the length and breadth of thecountry for it. It had gone out of existence, and with it the chanceof a Kaffir empire.'
Captain Arcoll got up to light his pipe, and I noticed that his facewas grave. He was not telling us this yarn for our amusement.
'So much for Prester John and his charm,' he said. 'Now I have to takeup the history at a different point. In spite of risings here andthere, and occasional rows, the Kaffirs have been quiet for the betterpart of half a century. It is no credit to us. They have had plentyof grievances, and we are no nearer understanding them than our fatherswere. But they are scattered and divided. We have driven great wedgesof white settlement into their territory, and we have taken away theirarms. Still, they are six times as many as we are, and they have longmemories, and a thoughtful man may wonder how long the peace will last.I have often asked myself that question, and till lately I used toreply, "For ever because they cannot find a leader with the properauthority, and they have no common cause to fight for." But a year ortwo ago I began to change my mind.
'It is my business to act as chief Intelligence officer among thenatives. Well, one day, I came on the tracks of a curious person. Hewas a Christian minister called Laputa, and he was going among thetribes from Durban to the Zambesi as a roving evangelist. I found thathe made an enormous impression, and yet the people I spoke to werechary of saying much about him. Presently I found that he preachedmore than the gospel. His word was "Africa for the Africans," and hischief point was that the natives had had a great empire in the past,and might have a great empire again. He used to tell the story ofPrester John, with all kinds of embroidery of his own. You see,Prester John was a good argument for him, for he had been a Christianas well as a great potentate. 'For years there has been plenty of thistalk in South Africa, chiefly among Christian Kaffirs. It is what theycall "Ethiopianism," and American negroes are the chief apostles. Formyself, I always thought the thing perfectly harmless. I don't care afig whether the native missions break away from the parent churches inEngland and call themselves by fancy names. The more freedom they havein their religious life, the less they are likely to think aboutpolitics. But I soon found out that Laputa was none of your flabbyeducated negroes from America, and I began to watch him.
'I first came across him at a revival meeting in London, where he was agreat success. He came and spoke to me about my soul, but he gave upwhen I dropped into Zulu. The next time I met him was on the lowerLimpopo, when I had the pleasure of trying to shoot him from a boat.'Captain Arcoll took his pipe from his mouth and laughed at therecollection.
'I had got on to an I.D.B. gang, and to my amazement found theevangelist among them. But the Reverend John was too much for me. Hewent overboard in spite of the crocodiles, and managed to swim belowwater to the reed bed at the side. However, that was a valuableexperience for me, for it gave me a clue.
'I next saw him at a Missionary Conference in Cape Town, and
after thatat a meeting of the Geographical Society in London, where I had a longtalk with him. My reputation does not follow me home, and he thought Iwas an English publisher with an interest in missions. You see I hadno evidence to connect him with I.D.B., and besides I fancied that hisreal game was something bigger than that; so I just bided my time andwatched.
'I did my best to get on to his dossier, but it was no easy job.However, I found out a few things. He had been educated in the States,and well educated too, for the man is a good scholar and a greatreader, besides the finest natural orator I have ever heard. There wasno doubt that he was of Zulu blood, but I could get no traces of hisfamily. He must come of high stock, for he is a fine figure of a man.'Very soon I found it was no good following him in his excursions intocivilization. There he was merely the educated Kaffir; a great pet ofmissionary societies, and a favourite speaker at Church meetings. Youwill find evidence given by him in Blue-Books on native affairs, and hecounted many members of Parliament at home among his correspondents. Ilet that side go, and resolved to dog him when on his evangelizingtours in the back-veld.
'For six months I stuck to him like a leech. I am pretty good atdisguises, and he never knew who was the broken-down old Kaffir whosquatted in the dirt at the edge of the crowd when he spoke, or thehalf-caste who called him "Sir" and drove his Cape-cart. I had somequeer adventures, but these can wait. The gist of the thing is, thatafter six months which turned my hair grey I got a glimmering of whathe was after. He talked Christianity to the mobs in the kraals, but tothe indunas[3] he told a different story.'
Captain Arcoll helped himself to a drink. 'You can guess what thatstory was, Mr Crawfurd. At full moon when the black cock was blooded,the Reverend John forgot his Christianity. He was back four centuriesamong the Mazimba sweeping down on the Zambesi. He told them, and theybelieved him, that he was the Umkulunkulu, the incarnated spirit ofPrester John. He told them that he was there to lead the African raceto conquest and empire. Ay, and he told them more: for he has, or sayshe has, the Great Snake itself, the necklet of Prester John.'
Neither of us spoke; we were too occupied with fitting this news intoour chain of knowledge.
Captain Arcoll went on. 'Now that I knew his purpose, I set myself tofind out his preparations. It was not long before I found a mightyorganization at work from the Zambesi to the Cape. The great tribeswere up to their necks in the conspiracy, and all manner of littlesects had been taken in. I have sat at tribal councils and been sworna blood brother, and I have used the secret password to get knowledgein odd places. It was a dangerous game, and, as I have said, I had myadventures, but I came safe out of it--with my knowledge.
'The first thing I found out was that there was a great deal of wealthsomewhere among the tribes. Much of it was in diamonds, which thelabourers stole from the mines and the chiefs impounded. Nearly everytribe had its secret chest, and our friend Laputa had the use of themall. Of course the difficulty was changing the diamonds into coin, andhe had to start I.D.B. on a big scale. Your pal, Henriques, was thechief agent for this, but he had others at Mozambique and Johannesburg,ay, and in London, whom I have on my list. With the money, guns andammunition were bought, and it seems that a pretty flourishing tradehas been going on for some time. They came in mostly overland throughPortuguese territory, though there have been cases of consignments toJohannesburg houses, the contents of which did not correspond with theinvoice. You ask what the Governments were doing to let this go on.Yes, and you may well ask. They were all asleep. They never dreamedof danger from the natives, and in any case it was difficult to policethe Portuguese side. Laputa knew our weakness, and he stakedeverything on it.
'My first scheme was to lay Laputa by the heels; but no Governmentwould act on my information. The man was strongly buttressed by publicsupport at home, and South Africa has burned her fingers before thiswith arbitrary arrests. Then I tried to fasten I.D.B. on him, but Icould not get my proofs till too late. I nearly had him in Durban, buthe got away; and he never gave me a second chance. For five months heand Henriques have been lying low, because their scheme was gettingvery ripe. I have been following them through Zululand and Gazaland,and I have discovered that the train is ready, and only wants thematch. For a month I have never been more than five hours behind himon the trail; and if he has laid his train, I have laid mine also.'
Arcoll's whimsical, humorous face had hardened into grimness, and inhis eyes there was the light of a fierce purpose. The sight of himcomforted me, in spite of his tale.
'But what can he hope to do?' I asked. 'Though he roused every Kaffirin South Africa he would be beaten. You say he is an educated man. Hemust know he has no chance in the long run.'
'I said he was an educated man, but he is also a Kaffir. He can seethe first stage of a thing, and maybe the second, but no more. That isthe native mind. If it was not like that our chance would be theworse.'
'You say the scheme is ripe,' I said; 'how ripe?'
Arcoll looked at the clock. 'In half an hour's time Laputa will bewith 'Mpefu. There he will stay the night. To-morrow morning he goesto Umvelos' to meet Henriques. To-morrow evening the gathering begins.'
'One question,' I said. 'How big a man is Laputa?'
'The biggest thing that the Kaffirs have ever produced. I tell you, inmy opinion he is a great genius. If he had been white he might havebeen a second Napoleon. He is a born leader of men, and as brave as alion. There is no villainy he would not do if necessary, and yet Ishould hesitate to call him a blackguard. Ay, you may look surprisedat me, you two pragmatical Scotsmen; but I have, so to speak, livedwith the man for months, and there's fineness and nobility in him. Hewould be a terrible enemy, but a just one. He has the heart of a poetand a king, and it is God's curse that he has been born among thechildren of Ham. I hope to shoot him like a dog in a day or two, but Iam glad to bear testimony to his greatness.'
'If the rising starts to-morrow,' I asked, 'have you any of his plans?'
He picked up a map from the table and opened it. 'The first rendezvousis somewhere near Sikitola's. Then they move south, picking upcontingents; and the final concentration is to be on the high veld nearAmsterdam, which is convenient for the Swazis and the Zulus. Afterthat I know nothing, but of course there are local concentrations alongthe whole line of the Berg from Mashonaland to Basutoland. Now, lookhere. To get to Amsterdam they must cross the Delagoa Bay Railway.Well, they won't be allowed to. If they get as far, they will bescattered there. As I told you, I too have laid my train. We have thepolice ready all along the scarp of the Berg. Every exit from nativeterritory is watched, and the frontier farmers are out on commando. Wehave regulars on the Delagoa Bay and Natal lines, and a system of fieldtelegraphs laid which can summon further troops to any point. It hasall been kept secret, because we are still in the dark ourselves. Thenewspaper public knows nothing about any rising, but in two days everywhite household in South Africa will be in a panic. Make no mistake,Mr Crawfurd; this is a grim business. We shall smash Laputa and hismen, but it will be a fierce fight, and there will be much good bloodshed. Besides, it will throw the country back another half-century.Would to God I had been man enough to put a bullet through his head incold blood. But I could not do it--it was too like murder; and maybe Ishall never have the chance now.'
'There's one thing puzzles me,' I said. 'What makes Laputa come uphere to start with? Why doesn't he begin with Zululand?'
'God knows! There's sure to be sense in it, for he does nothingwithout reason. We may know to-morrow.'
But as Captain Arcoll spoke, the real reason suddenly flashed into mymind: Laputa had to get the Great Snake, the necklet of Prester John,to give his leadership prestige. Apparently he had not yet got it, orArcoll would have known. He started from this neighbourhood becausethe fetich was somewhere hereabouts. I was convinced that my guess wasright, but I kept my own counsel.
'To-morrow Laputa and Henriques meet at Umvelos', probably at yo
ur newstore, Mr Crawfurd. And so the ball commences.'
My resolution was suddenly taken.
'I think,' I said, 'I had better be present at the meeting, asrepresenting the firm.'
Captain Arcoll stared at me and laughed. 'I had thought of goingmyself,' he said.
'Then you go to certain death, disguise yourself as you please. Youcannot meet them in the store as I can. I'm there on my ordinarybusiness, and they will never suspect. If you're to get any news, I'mthe man to go.'
He looked at me steadily for a minute or so. 'I'm not sure that's sucha bad idea of yours. I would be better employed myself on the Berg,and, as you say, I would have little chance of hearing anything.You're a plucky fellow, Mr Crawfurd. I suppose you understand that therisk is pretty considerable.'
'I suppose I do; but since I'm in this thing, I may as well see it out.Besides, I've an old quarrel with our friend Laputa.'
'Good and well,' said Captain Arcoll. 'Draw in your chair to thetable, then, and I'll explain to you the disposition of my men. Ishould tell you that I have loyal natives in my pay in most tribes, andcan count on early intelligence. We can't match their telepathy; butthe new type of field telegraph is not so bad, and may be a trifle morereliable.'
Till midnight we pored over maps, and certain details were burned in onmy memory. Then we went to bed and slept soundly, even Mr Wardlaw. Itwas strange how fear had gone from the establishment, now that we knewthe worst and had a fighting man by our side.
[1] Hemp.
[2] Council.
[3] Lesser chiefs.