John Ames, Native Commissioner: A Romance of the Matabele RisingMitford, Bertram
History
John Ames, Native Commissioner: A Romance of the Matabele Rising
Mitford, Bertram
South Africa -- Fiction; Zimbabwe -- History -- Ndebele Revolt, 1896 -- Fiction
And, throughout all this most trying experience--trying alike in the
terrible strain upon the nerves, and the physical strain of forced
marches in the enervating heat of a sub-tropical climate, over rough and
fatiguing ground--how many times had Nidia noted with confidence and
admiration the consummate judgment of her fellow-fugitive; the
unflagging vigilance, the readiness of resource, and the tranquil
hopefulness which he threw into the situation. Never a moment did he
relax observation even in the most trivial matters, and his knowledge of
the country, too, was wonderful. The part they had to traverse was the
most dangerous part, indeed, through which their line of flight could
possibly take them, bearing, as it did, a considerable population. More
than once they would have to pass so near a kraal that the barking of
dogs almost made them think they were discovered; but the narrow escape
to which we heard him allude had occurred at about noon of the second
day after leaving Shiminya's.
The line of country they were traversing was rough and difficult--
undulating flats covered with long grass, and plentifully studded with
trees, but there was no avoiding it, and, indeed, every step, even here,
was fraught with the gravest peril, for they were in the neighbourhood
of quite a cluster of kraals. Poor Nidia felt as though she must give
up in despair and exhaustion. The flags of the coarse grass cut her
ankles like saws, and she felt as though she could hardly drag one foot
after another, and even the words of cheer whispered by her companion
seemed to fall on deaf ears. Suddenly the latter halted, listened a
moment, then Nidia felt herself seized, and, with a whisper of caution,
dragged down as though into the very earth itself. As a matter of fact
this was nearly the case. The place she found herself in was a shallow
donga, almost concealed by long grass and brambles, and these her
companion was quickly but noiselessly dragging over her and himself.
Then had come the sound of footsteps, the hum of voices. She could see
out through the grass that was over her, and that without moving a
muscle. An _impi_ was approaching, and that in a line which should
bring it right over their hiding-place; an _impi_ of considerable size,
and which might have numbered some hundreds. The warriors were marching
in no particular order, and she could make out every detail of their
equipment--the great tufted shields and gleaming assegais; rifles, too,
many of them carried, and knobkerries and battle-axes. Some were
crested with great ostrich skin war-bonnets covering the head and
shoulders, others wore the _isiqoba_, or ball of feathers, fixed to the
forelock; a long wing feather of the kite or crane stuck through this,
and rising horn-like above the head; and catskin _mutyas_ and anklets of
flowing cowhair. At any other time she would have admired the spectacle
exceedingly; now, however, in the grim dark faces and rolling eyeballs
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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