Richard Galbraith, Mariner; Or, Life among the KaffirsPhillips, E. W. (Emma Watts)
General
Richard Galbraith, Mariner; Or, Life among the Kaffirs
Phillips, E. W. (Emma Watts)
Shipwrecks -- Fiction; South Africa -- Fiction
On going a little further I perceived Metilulu standing in the isibaya,
inspecting the numbering the cattle by some of his men, while others
were forming the survivors into their proper regiments, to discover
which of the tribe had fallen. Having no wish to join either I strolled
on, wondering in my own mind as to what they intended to do with the
slain, for to leave them where they were under the tropical sun of day
would soon render the spot unbearable and detrimental to the existence
of the survivors.
Just at this moment I chanced to come across Tugela, bearing a message
from Metilulu to one of his warriors, and, as I was going his way, I
asked him with some curiosity, "How the fight had terminated."
"All those who had not been slain," he said, "had finally yielded and
consented to submit to Metilulu, accepting him for their chief.
Therefore, as the kraal was ready for immediate occupation, and stood in
a much better situation regarding vegetation and water than his, the
little Chief had issued orders for all the huts to be taken care of, as
he intended at once to make the place his own abode, while the
vanquished were to build themselves a kraal a little distance off."
"But what will you do with these heaps of slain?" I asked. "If they
remain here long the air will be full of pestilential vapours."
"Those who like to bury their friends have permission to do so,"
rejoined Tugela, "The others will be dragged far into the bush for the
wild beasts to devour, or thrown into the rivers for the crocodiles. We
never bury them as you English do."
Saying which he hurried on with his message; and, even as he went, I
perceived numerous parties of "boys" removing the fallen men for the
purpose Tugela had stated. Whether they ascertained if all they took
were really dead, particularly when the bodies were those of the enemy,
I cannot tell, but I rather think not.
On being once more alone I continued my walk, and had the satisfaction
of relieving from under the debris of a fallen hut a poor woman with an
assagai wound in her side, who immediately, with much chattering,
scurried off to the bush, clasping a baby in her arms, and leaving me no
time to tell her that she would be quite safe if she liked to remain at
the kraal.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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