Adventure stories; Johannesburg (South Africa) -- Fiction; South Africa -- History -- 1836-1909 -- Fiction
It seemed as though such knowledge were about to be called into
requisition, for the announcement that all this "property" was to be
relinquished absolutely was received by the more important section of
the slave-hunters with a sullen silence more eloquent even that the
wolfish growls of the Wangoni. The latter's disappointment lay in the
fact that they were balked in giving vent to their instincts of sheer
savagery--the delight of plunder and massacre. That of the former,
however, was a more weighty factor to reckon with; for the smatter of
civilization in the Arab and Swahili element had brought with it the
commercial instinct of cupidity. It speaks volumes, therefore, for the
ascendency which these two resolute white men had set up over their wild
and lawless following, that the latter should have contented itself with
mere sullen obedience.
Having gained his point Laurence returned within the village, and,
calling Mgara, suggested that some of the people should carry forth
food to their unwelcome visitors.
"I fear it may leave scarcity in your midst," he added; "but well-fed
men are in better mood than hungry ones, Mgara, and are you not spared
the slave-yoke and the spear?"
The head man, with many deferential expressions of gratitude, agreed,
and soon a file of women and boys were told off, bringing goats and
millet and rice for the slave-hunters. As they passed tremblingly among
the ranks of the Wangoni the latter handled their great spears
meaningly, and with much the same expression of countenance as a cat
might wear when contemplating an inaccessible bird cage.
"Ho, dog!" cried Mashumbwe, as a youth passed before him without making
obeisance. "Do you dare stand before me--before me! thou spawn of these
man-eating jackals? Lo! lie prostrate forever." And with the words he
half threw, half thrust his great spear into the unfortunate lad's body.
The blood spurted forth in a great jet, and, staggering, the boy fell.
"_Au!_ And am I to be defiled with the blood of such as this," growled
the chief, upon whom several red drops had squirted. "Let that carrion
be removed."
Several of the Wangoni sprang forward, and, as the quivering body was
dragged away, these savages gave vent to their pent-up ferocity by
stabbing it again and again. Having tasted blood they rolled their eyes
around in search of further victims. But the remaining Wajalu had
withdrawn in terror: and well for all concerned that it was so,
otherwise the Wangoni, inspired by the example of their chief, would
certainly have commenced a massacre which even the prestige and
authority of Hazon and Laurence combined would have been powerless to
quell. But there was no one outside to begin upon, and, though a
truculent, unruly crowd, their interests in the long run lay in
submitting to the authority of the white chiefs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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