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- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
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The deceitful chief was thus ready in his acquiescence, simply because he had no intention whatever of fulfilling his engagements. To blind his white enemies the more effectually, he himself offered to remain in the camp as a hostage, with his followers. Two other chiefs, Kreli and Booko, also joined him. This seemingly gracious conduct won for Hintza so much confidence that orders were immediately given to evacuate his territory. He became the guest of Colonel Smith, and the Governor presented him with numerous conciliatory gifts. Thereafter the camp was broken up and the Governor took his departure.
No sooner was his back turned than Hintza’s people commenced a general massacre of the Fingoes. About thirty were murdered in cold blood near to Colonel Somerset’s camp.
Full of indignation, when he heard this, the Governor summoned Hintza to his presence and related what had occurred.
“Well, and what then?” was the Kafir’s cool reply, “are they not my dogs?”
Sir Benjamin met this by giving orders that Hintza and all the people with him should be put under guard, and held as hostages for the safety of the Fingoes. He instantly despatched messengers to stop the carnage, and said that if it continued after three hours he would shoot two of Hintza’s suite for every Fingo killed. He added, moreover, that if he found there was any subterfuge in the message they sent—as he had discovered to have been the case in former messages—he would hang Hintza, Kreli, and Booko on the tree under which they were sitting.
In less than ten minutes the messengers of the chiefs were scampering off at full speed in different directions with orders! So potent was the power of this vigorous treatment that within the short time specified the massacre was stopped.
But the Governor knew well the character of the men with whom he had to deal. To have left the Fingoes in their hands after this would have been tantamount to condemning them to suffer the revengeful wrath of their cruel masters, who would no doubt have resumed the massacre the instant the troops were withdrawn. Sir Benjamin therefore collected them together, along with the few missionaries and other British subjects who had found temporary refuge at the station of Clarkeburg. He placed them under the care of the Reverend Mr Ayliffe, for whom the Fingoes expressed sincere regard, and transported the whole body in safety across the Kei.
“An amazing sight,” observed Charlie Considine to a knot of his comrades, as they reined up on the top of a knoll, and watched the long line of Fingoes defiling before him like an antediluvian black snake trailing its sinuous course over the land, with a little knot of red-coats in front, looking like its fiery head, and sundry groups of burghers, and other troops, here and there along its body, like parti-coloured legs and claws. The length of this mighty snake may be estimated when it is said that of the Fingo nation not fewer than 2000 men, 5600 women, and 9200 children, with 22,000 cattle, were led across the Kei into the colony at that time.
The whole scene, with its multitudinous details, was a commingling of the ludicrous, the touching, and the sublime. It was mirth-provoking to observe the wild energy of the coal-black men, as they sprang from side to side, with shield and assagai, driving in refractory cattle; the curious nature of the bundles borne by many of the women; the frolicking of the larger children and the tottering of the smaller ones, whose little black legs seemed quite unequal to the support of their rotund bodies. It was touching to see, here and there, a stalwart man pick up a tired goat and lay it on his shoulders, or relieve a weary woman of her burden—or catch up a stumbling little one that had lost its mother, and carry it along in his arms. And it was a sublime thought that this great army was being led, like the Israelites of old, out of worse than Egyptian bondage, into a Christian colony, as the adopted sons and daughters of a civilised Government.
It was, in one sense, a “nation born in a day,” for the Fingoes were destined, in after years, to become the faithful allies of their white deliverers, and the creators of much additional wealth in the colony,—a raw native material which at that time gladdened, and still rejoices, the hearts of those missionaries who look to the Fingoes with reasonable hope, as likely to become, in time, the bearers of the Gospel to their kindred in the wilds of Central Africa.
Meanwhile Hintza, not having shown sufficient readiness and alacrity in redeeming his promises, was held as a hostage in the hands of the white man. He was, however, treated with the utmost consideration, and when he proposed to accompany a division of the troops, in order to exercise to the utmost his personal influence in recovering from his people the cattle and horses due, and to apprehend the murderers, according to treaty, he was allowed to do so, not only quite free in person, but even with his weapons in his hands.
Colonel Smith, however, who commanded the force, distinctly told the chief through an interpreter, that if he attempted to escape he would instantly be shot.
The force consisted of detachments of the Cape Mounted Rifles, the 72nd regiment, and the corps of Guides—350 men in all.
Towards the afternoon of the day on which they marched, a circumstance occurred which justified Colonel Smith’s suspicions as to Hintza’s sincerity. They had reached a streamlet and encamped, when one of the guides reported to him that two Kafirs, with five head of cattle, were near the camp, and that Hintza, on the plea that they would be afraid to approach, had sent one of his people to bring them in.
On being questioned, the chief declined to give any explanation on the subject, and the Kafirs not only did not come in, as they were ordered, but made off, and carried the horse of Hintza’s messenger along with them! The suspicion excited by this circumstance was increased by the evasive answers given to the Colonel’s repeated inquiries as to the point on which Hintza wished the troops to march.
“We are going right,” was the only answer that could be elicited from the taciturn savage.
After crossing the range of the Guadan Hills, the troops bivouacked on the Guanga, and here Hintza became more communicative, said that he wished them to march towards the mouth of the Bashee, by a route which he would point out, and that they must move at midnight. This was done, and they continued to move forward till eight o’clock in the morning, observing as they went the spoor of numerous herds of cattle that had been driven in that direction quite recently.
The men, being tired, were then halted for refreshment.
At this point Hintza became particularly uneasy at the vigilance with which he was watched.
“What have the cattle done,” he said testily, “that you should want them? and why should my subjects be deprived of them?”
“Why do you ask such questions, Hintza?” replied Colonel Smith; “you know well the many outrages committed on the colonists by your people, and the thousands of cattle that have been stolen. It is in redress of these wrongs that we demand them.”
The chief looked stern, but made no rejoinder. He appeared to recover himself, however, after breakfast, and was in high spirits while on the march. He rode a remarkably strong horse that day, which he appeared very anxious to spare from fatigue—dismounting and leading him up every ascent.
As the party advanced, the tracks of numerous cattle were still found leading onward, but the animals themselves were nowhere to be seen.
“You see,” remarked the chief, with a touch of sarcasm in his tone as he rode beside the Colonel, “you see how my subjects treat me: they drive their cattle from me in spite of me.”
“I do not want your subjects’ cattle, Hintza,” was the Colonel’s pointed reply; “I want, and will have, the colonial cattle which they have stolen.”
“Then,” returned the chief, “allow me to send forward my councillor Umtini to tell my people I am here, that they must not drive away their cattle, and that the cattle of your nation will be alone selected.”
Although it was quite evident that the chief meditated mischief it was thought best to agree to this proposal. Accordingly, the councillor, after being enjoined to return that night, which he promised to do, mounted and left the camp at full speed, accompanied by an attendant.
There was ground for uneasiness and much caution in all this, for those who knew Hintza best were wont to say that he possessed in a high degree all the vices of the savage—ingratitude, avarice, cunning, and cruelty, and his treatment of the traders and missionaries under his protection, as well as his secret encouragement of the border chiefs, fully bore out their opinion.
“Now!” exclaimed the chief in high spirits when Umtini had left, “you need not go on to the Bashee, you will have more cattle than you can drive on the Xabecca.”
The path the troops were passing was a mere cattle-track leading up hill, from the bed of the Xabecca river, among tangled brushwood, and occasionally passing through a cleft in the rocks. Colonel Smith was the only member of the party who rode up the hill; Hintza and the others led their homes. On drawing near to the summit, the chief and his attendants mounted and rode silently but quickly past the Colonel into the bushes.
One of the guides observing the action called to the Colonel, who immediately shouted, “Hintza, stop!”
The savage had no intention of stopping, but, finding himself entangled in the thicket, was compelled to return to the track. He did so with such coolness and with such an ingenuous smile, that the Colonel, who had drawn a pistol, felt half ashamed of his suspicions, and allowed the chief to ride forward as before.
At the top of the steep ascent the country was quite open. The Xabecca river was seen in front with a few Kafir huts on its banks. Here the chief set off at full speed in the direction of the huts.
Colonel Smith and three of the guides pursued. The latter were quickly left behind, but the Colonel, being well mounted, kept up with the fugitive. Spurring on with violence, he soon overtook him.
“Stop, Hintza!” he shouted.
But Hintza was playing his last card. He urged his horse to greater exertion, and kept stabbing at his pursuer with an assagai.
The Colonel drew a pistol, but it snapped. A second was used with like ill success. He then spurred close up, struck the chief with the butt end of the pistol, and, in so doing, dropped it. Hintza looked round with a smile of derision, and the Colonel, hurling the other pistol at him, struck him on the back of the head. The blow was ineffectual. Hintza rode on; the troops followed as they best could. They were now nearing the huts. At length, making a desperate effort, the Colonel dashed close up to the chief. Having now no weapon, he seized him by the collar of his kaross, or cloak, and, with a violent effort, hurled him to the ground. Both horses were going at racing speed. The Colonel, unable to check his, passed on, but before he was beyond reach the agile savage had leaped to his feet, drawn another assagai from the bundle which he carried, and hurled it after his enemy. So good was the aim that the weapon passed within a few inches of the Colonel’s body.
The act afforded time to those behind to come up. Although Hintza turned aside instantly and ran down the steep bank of the Xabecca, the foremost of the guides—named Southey—got within gun-shot and shouted in the Kafir
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