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
The oft-recurring scares, necessitating the crowding of, at any rate,
the bulk of its inhabitants into the laagers at night, contributed in
the main to this. With instances of the fell unsparing ferocity which
attended the rebel stroke--sudden, swift, and unexpected--fresh in the
mind of everybody, citizens were chary of exposing themselves and their
families to a like visitation. Private residences straggling over the
surburban stands were abandoned for the greater security of the
temporary forts which had been hastily but effectively formed out of
some of the principal buildings in and around the township itself; and
the comfort and privacy of home-life had perforce to be exchanged for an
overcrowded, hotch-potch, barrack sort of existence; men, women, and
children of all sorts and sizes herding together, hugger-mugged, under
every conceivable form of racket and discomfort, and under the most
inadequate conditions of area and convenience. Rumour, in its
many-tongued and wildest form, filled the air, gathering in volume, and
frequently in wildness, with the advent of every fresh batch of
refugees. For from all sides these came flying in--prospectors, miners,
outlying settlers with their families, some with a portion of their
worldly goods, others with none at all, and fortunate in having escaped
with their lives where others had not. For it soon became manifest that
such events as the massacre of the Hollingworths and the Inglefields,
and the fight and resolute defence at Jekyll's Store, were but samples
of what had taken place--or was still going on--all over the country.
Haggard fugitives, gaunt with starvation, stony-eyed with days and
nights of deadly peril for close companionship, nerves shattered by the
most horrible recollections, and apprehension worked up to the acutest
phase thereby--continued to arrive, each and all bringing the same tale
of treachery and ruthlessness and blood, deepening on every hand the
gloom and anxiety of the situation--anxiety on behalf of those not yet
accounted for, mingling with an apprehensive looking forward to how it
was all going to end, and when. The necessaries of life went up to
famine prices, and then the enemy began to invest the town.
Southward, crouching lion-like, among the Matyamhlope rocks; on the
north, occupying the site of the old Bulawayo kraal, and in possession
of the "Government" House which the presumptuous white man had erected
upon the former seat of the departed king, overhanging, like a dark
cloud, the township beneath, or again making fierce dashes upon traffic
which should attempt the eastward way, he mustered in all his savage
might--an ever-present menace. But the way to the west, for some
unaccountable reason, was left open.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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