NANEA

Presently, muttering something that the listener could not catch, Nahoon left Nanea, and crept out of the hut by its bee-hole entrance.  Then Hadden opened his eyes and looked round him.  The sun was sinking and a ray of its red light streaming through the little opening filled the place with a soft and crimson glow.  In the centre of the hut ­supporting it ­stood a thorn-wood roof-tree coloured black by the smoke of the fire; and against this, the rich light falling full upon her, leaned the girl Nanea ­a very picture of gentle despair.

As is occasionally the case among Zulu women, she was beautiful ­so beautiful that the sight of her went straight to the white man’s heart, for a moment causing the breath to catch in his throat.  Her dress was very simple.  On her shoulders, hanging open in front, lay a mantle of soft white stuff edged with blue beads, about her middle was a buck-skin moocha, also embroidered with blue beads, while round her forehead and left knee were strips of grey fur, and on her right wrist a shining bangle of copper.  Her naked bronze-hued figure was tall and perfect in its proportions; while her face had little in common with that of the ordinary native girl, showing as it did strong traces of the ancestral Arabian or Semitic blood.  It was oval in shape, with delicate aquiline features, arched eyebrows, a full mouth, that drooped a little at the corners, tiny ears, behind which the wavy coal-black hair hung down to the shoulders, and the very loveliest pair of dark and liquid eyes that it is possible to imagine.

For a minute or more Nanea stood thus, her sweet face bathed in the sunbeam, while Hadden feasted his eyes upon its beauty.  Then sighing heavily, she turned, and seeing that he was awake, started, drew her mantle over her breast and came, or rather glided, towards him.

“The chief is awake,” she said in her soft Zulu accents.  “Does he need aught?”

“Yes, Lady,” he answered; “I need to drink, but alas!  I am too weak.”

She knelt down beside him, and supporting him with her left arm, with her right held the gourd to his lips.

How it came about Hadden never knew, but before that draught was finished a change passed over him.  Whether it was the savage girl’s touch, or her strange and fawn-like loveliness, or the tender pity in her eyes, matters not ­the issue was the same.  She struck some cord in his turbulent uncurbed nature, and of a sudden it was filled full with passion for her ­a passion which if, not elevated, at least was real.  He did not for a moment mistake the significance of the flood of feeling that surged through his veins.  Hadden never shirked facts.

“By Heaven!” he said to himself, “I have fallen in love with a black beauty at first sight ­more in love than I have ever been before.  It’s awkward, but there will be compensations.  So much the worse for Nahoon, or for Cetywayo, or for both of them.  After all, I can always get rid of her if she becomes a nuisance.”

Then, in a fit of renewed weakness, brought about by the turmoil of his blood, he lay back upon the pillow of furs, watching Nanea’s face while with a native salve of pounded leaves she busied herself dressing the wounds that the leopard had made.

It almost seemed as though something of what was passing in his mind communicated itself to that of the girl.  At least, her hand shook a little at her task, and getting done with it as quickly as she could, she rose from her knees with a courteous “It is finished, Inkoos,” and once more took up her position by the roof-tree.

“I thank you, Lady,” he said; “your hand is kind.”

“You must not call me lady, Inkoos,” she answered, “I am no chieftainess, but only the daughter of a headman, Umgona.”

“And named Nanea,” he said.  “Nay, do not be surprised, I have heard of you.  Well, Nanea, perhaps you will soon become a chieftainess ­up at the king’s kraal yonder.”

“Alas! and alas!” she said, covering her face with her hands.

“Do not grieve, Nanea, a hedge is never so tall and thick but that it cannot be climbed or crept through.”

She let fall her hands and looked at him eagerly, but he did not pursue the subject.

“Tell me, how did I come here, Nanea?”

“Nahoon and his companions carried you, Inkoos.”

“Indeed, I begin to be thankful to the leopard that struck me down.  Well, Nahoon is a brave man, and he has done me a great service.  I trust that I may be able to repay it ­to you, Nanea.”

This was the first meeting of Nanea and Hadden; but, although she did not seek them, the necessities of his sickness and of the situation brought about many another.  Never for a moment did the white man waver in his determination to get into his keeping the native girl who had captivated him, and to attain his end he brought to bear all his powers and charm to detach her from Nahoon, and win her affections for himself.  He was no rough wooer, however, but proceeded warily, weaving her about with a web of flattery and attention that must, he thought, produce the desired effect upon her mind.  Without a doubt, indeed, it would have done so ­for she was but a woman, and an untutored one ­had it not been for a simple fact which dominated her whole nature.  She loved Nahoon, and there was no room in her heart for any other man, white or black.  To Hadden she was courteous and kindly but no more, nor did she appear to notice any of the subtle advances by which he attempted to win a foothold in her heart.  For a while this puzzled him, but he remembered that the Zulu women do not usually permit themselves to show feeling towards an undeclared suitor.  Therefore it became necessary that he should speak out.

His mind once made up, he had not to wait long for an opportunity.  He was now quite recovered from his hurts, and accustomed to walk in the neighbourhood of the kraal.  About two hundred yards from Umgona’s huts rose a spring, and thither it was Nanea’s habit to resort in the evening to bring back drinking-water for the use of her father’s household.  The path between this spring and the kraal ran through a patch of bush, where on a certain afternoon towards sundown Hadden took his seat under a tree, having first seen Nanea go down to the little stream as was her custom.  A quarter of an hour later she reappeared carrying a large gourd upon her head.  She wore no garment now except her moocha, for she had but one mantle and was afraid lest the water should splash it.  He watched her advancing along the path, her hands resting on her hips, her splendid naked figure outlined against the westering sun, and wondered what excuse he could make to talk with her.  As it chanced fortune favoured him, for when she was near him a snake glided across the path in front of the girl’s feet, causing her to spring backwards in alarm and overset the gourd of water.  He came forward, and picked it up.

“Wait here,” he said laughing; “I will bring it to you full.”

“Nay, Inkoos,” she remonstrated, “that is a woman’s work.”

“Among my people,” he said, “the men love to work for the women,” and he started for the spring, leaving her wondering.

Before he reached her again, he regretted his gallantry, for it was necessary to carry the handleless gourd upon his shoulder, and the contents of it spilling over the edge soaked him.  Of this, however, he said nothing to Nanea.

“There is your water, Nanea, shall I carry it for you to the kraal?”

“Nay, Inkoos, I thank you, but give it to me, you are weary with its weight.”

“Stay awhile, and I will accompany you.  Ah!  Nanea, I am still weak, and had it not been for you I think that I should be dead.”

“It was Nahoon who saved you ­not I, Inkoos.”

“Nahoon saved my body, but you, Nanea, you alone can save my heart.”

“You talk darkly, Inkoos.”

“Then I must make my meaning clear, Nanea.  I love you.”

She opened her brown eyes wide.

“You, a white lord, love me, a Zulu girl?  How can that be?”

“I do not know, Nanea, but it is so, and were you not blind you would have seen it.  I love you, and I wish to take you to wife.”

“Nay, Inkoos, it is impossible.  I am already betrothed.”

“Ay,” he answered, “betrothed to the king.”

“No, betrothed to Nahoon.”

“But it is the king who will take you within a week; is it not so?  And would you not rather that I should take you than the king?”

“It seems to be so, Inkoos, and I would rather go with you than with the king, but most of all I desire to marry Nahoon.  It may be that I shall not be able to marry him, but if that is so, at least I will never become one of the king’s women.”

“How will you prevent it, Nanea?”

“There are waters in which a maid may drown, and trees upon which she can hang,” she answered with a quick setting of the mouth.

“That were a pity, Nanea, you are too fair to die.”

“Fair or foul, yet I die, Inkoos.”

“No, no, come with me ­I will find a way ­and be my wife,” and he put her arm about her waist, and strove to draw her to him.

Without any violence of movement, and with the most perfect dignity, the girl disengaged herself from his embrace.

“You have honoured me, and I thank you, Inkoos,” she said quietly, “but you do not understand.  I am the wife of Nahoon ­I belong to Nahoon; therefore, I cannot look on any other man while Nahoon lives.  It is not our custom, Inkoos, for we are not as the white women, but ignorant and simple, and when we vow ourselves to a man, we abide by that vow till death.”

“Indeed,” said Hadden; “and so now you go to tell Nahoon that I have offered to make you my wife.”

“No, Inkoos, why should I tell Nahoon your secrets?  I have said ‘nay’ to you, not ‘yea,’ therefore he has no right to know,” and she stooped to lift the gourd of water.

Hadden considered the situation rapidly, for his repulse only made him the more determined to succeed.  Of a sudden under the emergency he conceived a scheme, or rather its rough outline.  It was not a nice scheme, and some men might have shrunk from it, but as he had no intention of suffering himself to be defeated by a Zulu girl, he decided ­with regret, it is true ­that having failed to attain his ends by means which he considered fair, he must resort to others of more doubtful character.

“Nanea,” he said, “you are a good and honest woman, and I respect you.  As I have told you, I love you also, but if you refuse to listen to me there is nothing more to be said, and after all, perhaps it would be better that you should marry one of your own people.  But, Nanea, you will never marry him, for the king will take you; and, if he does not give you to some other man, either you will become one of his ‘sisters,’ or to be free of him, as you say, you will die.  Now hear me, for it is because I love you and wish your welfare that I speak thus.  Why do you not escape into Natal, taking Nahoon with you, for there as you know you may live in peace out of reach of the arm of Cetywayo?”

“That is my desire, Inkoos, but Nahoon will not consent.  He says that there is to be war between us and you white men, and he will not break the command of the king and desert from his army.”

“Then he cannot love you much, Nahoon, and at least you have to think of yourself.  Whisper into the ear of your father and fly together, for be sure that Nahoon will soon follow you.  Ay! and I myself with fly with you, for I too believe that there must be war, and then a white man in this country will be as a lamb among the eagles.”

“If Nahoon will come, I will go, Inkoos, but I cannot fly without Nahoon; it is better I should stay here and kill myself.”

“Surely then being so fair and loving him so well, you can teach him to forget his folly and to escape with you.  In four days’ time we must start for the king’s kraal, and if you win over Nahoon, it will be easy for us to turn our faces southwards and across the river that lies between the land of the Amazulu and Natal.  For the sake of all of us, but most of all for your own sake, try to do this, Nanea, whom I have loved and whom I now would save.  See him and plead with him as you know how, but as yet do not tell him that I dream of flight, for then I should be watched.”

“In truth, I will, Inkoos,” she answered earnestly, “and oh!  I thank you for your goodness.  Fear not that I will betray you ­first would I die.  Farewell.”

“Farewell, Nanea,” and taking her hand he raised it to his lips.

Late that night, just as Hadden was beginning to prepare himself for sleep, he heard a gentle tapping at the board which closed the entrance to his hut.

“Enter,” he said, unfastening the door, and presently by the light of the little lantern that he had with him, he saw Nanea creep into the hut, followed by the great form of Nahoon.

“Inkoos,” she said in a whisper when the door was closed again, “I have pleaded with Nahoon, and he has consented to fly; moreover, my father will come also.”

“Is it so, Nahoon?” asked Hadden.

“It is so,” answered the Zulu, looking down shamefacedly; “to save this girl from the king, and because the love of her eats out my heart, I have bartered away my honour.  But I tell you, Nanea, and you, White Man, as I told Umgona just now, that I think no good will come of this flight, and if we are caught or betrayed, we shall be killed every one of us.”

“Caught we can scarcely be,” broke in Nanea anxiously, “for who could betray us, except the Inkoos here ­”

“Which he is not likely to do,” said Hadden quietly, “seeing that he desires to escape with you, and that his life is also at stake.”

“That is so, Black Heart,” said Nahoon, “otherwise I tell you that I should not have trusted you.”

Hadden took no notice of this outspoken saying, but until very late that night they sat there together making their plans.

On the following morning Hadden was awakened by sounds of violent altercation.  Going out of his hut he found that the disputants were Umgona and a fat and evil-looking Kaffir chief who had arrived at the kraal on a pony.  This chief, he soon discovered, was named Maputa, being none other than the man who had sought Nanea in marriage and brought about Nahoon’s and Umgona’s unfortunate appeal to the king.  At present he was engaged in abusing Umgona furiously, charging him with having stolen certain of his oxen and bewitched his cows so that they would not give milk.  The alleged theft it was comparatively easy to disprove, but the wizardry remained a matter of argument.

“You are a dog, and a son of a dog,” shouted Maputa, shaking his fat fist in the face of the trembling but indignant Umgona.  “You promised me your daughter in marriage, then having vowed her to that umfagozan ­that low lout of a soldier, Nahoon, the son of Zomba ­you went, the two of you, and poisoned the king’s ear against me, bringing me into trouble with the king, and now you have bewitched my cattle.  Well, wait, I will be even with you, Wizard; wait till you wake up in the cold morning to find your fence red with fire, and the slayers standing outside your gates to eat up you and yours with spears ­”

At this juncture Nahoon, who till now had been listening in silence, intervened with effect.

“Good,” he said, “we will wait, but not in your company, Chief Maputa. Hamba! (go) ­” and seizing the fat old ruffian by the scruff of his neck, he flung him backwards with such violence that he rolled over and over down the little slope.

Hadden laughed, and passed on towards the stream where he proposed to bathe.  Just as he reached it, he caught sight of Maputa riding along the footpath, his head-ring covered with mud, his lips purple and his black face livid with rage.

“There goes an angry man,” he said to himself.  “Now, how would it be ­” and he looked upwards like one seeking an inspiration.  It seemed to come; perhaps the devil finding it open whispered in his ear, at any rate ­in a few seconds his plan was formed, and he was walking through the bush to meet Maputa.

“Go in peace, Chief,” he said; “they seem to have treated you roughly up yonder.  Having no power to interfere, I came away for I could not bear the sight.  It is indeed shameful that an old and venerable man of rank should be struck into the dirt, and beaten by a soldier drunk with beer.”

“Shameful, White Man!” gasped Maputa; “your words are true indeed.  But wait a while.  I, Maputa, will roll that stone over, I will throw that bull upon its back.  When next the harvest ripens, this I promise, that neither Nahoon nor Umgona, nor any of his kraal shall be left to gather it.”

“And how will you manage that, Maputa?”

“I do not know, but I will find a way.  Oh!  I tell you, a way shall be found.”

Hadden patted the pony’s neck meditatively, then leaning forward, he looked the chief in the eyes and said: ­

“What will you give me, Maputa, if I show you that way, a sure and certain one, whereby you may be avenged to the death upon Nahoon, whose violence I also have seen, and upon Umgona, whose witchcraft brought sore sickness upon me?”

“What reward do you seek, White Man?” asked Maputa eagerly.

“A little thing, Chief, a thing of no account, only the girl Nanea, to whom as it chances I have taken a fancy.”

“I wanted her for myself, White Man, but he who sits at Ulundi has laid his hand upon her.”

“That is nothing, Chief; I can arrange with him who ‘sits at Ulundi.’  It is with you who are great here that I wish to come to terms.  Listen:  if you grant my desire, not only will I fulfil yours upon your foes, but when the girl is delivered into my hands I will give you this rifle and a hundred rounds of cartridges.”

Maputa looked at the sporting Martini, and his eyes glistened.

“It is good,” he said; “it is very good.  Often have I wished for such a gun that will enable me to shoot game, and to talk with my enemies from far away.  Promise it to me, White Man, and you shall take the girl if I can give her to you.”

“You swear it, Maputa?”

“I swear it by the head of Chaka, and the spirits of my fathers.”

“Good.  At dawn on the fourth day from now it is the purpose of Umgona, his daughter Nanea, and Nahoon, to cross the river into Natal by the drift that is called Crocodile Drift, taking their cattle with them and flying from the king.  I also shall be of their company, for they know that I have learned their secret, and would murder me if I tried to leave them.  Now you who are chief of the border and guardian of that drift, must hide at night with some men among the rocks in the shallows of the drift and await our coming.  First Nanea will cross driving the cows and calves, for so it is arranged, and I shall help her; then will follow Umgona and Nahoon with the oxen and heifers.  On these two you must fall, killing them and capturing the cattle, and afterwards I will give you the rifle.”

“What if the king should ask for the girl, White Man?”

“Then you shall answer that in the uncertain light you did not recognise her and so she slipped away from you; moreover, that at first you feared to seize the girl lest her cries should alarm the men and they should escape you.”

“Good, but how can I be sure that you will give me the gun once you are across the river?”

“Thus:  before I enter the ford I will lay the rifle and cartridges upon a stone by the bank, telling Nanea that I shall return to fetch them when I have driven over the cattle.”

“It is well, White Man; I will not fail you.”

So the plot was made, and after some further conversation upon points of detail, the two conspirators shook hands and parted.

“That ought to come off all right,” reflected Hadden to himself as he plunged and floated in the waters of the stream, “but somehow I don’t quite trust our friend Maputa.  It would have been better if I could have relied upon myself to get rid of Nahoon and his respected uncle ­a couple of shots would do it in the water.  But then that would be murder and murder is unpleasant; whereas the other thing is only the delivery to justice of two base deserters, a laudable action in a military country.  Also personal interference upon my part might turn the girl against me; while after Umgona and Nahoon have been wiped out by Maputa, she must accept my escort.  Of course there is a risk, but in every walk of life the most cautious have to take risks at times.”

As it chanced, Philip Hadden was correct in his suspicions of his coadjutor, Maputa.  Even before that worthy chief reached his own kraal, he had come to the conclusion that the white man’s plan, though attractive in some ways, was too dangerous, since it was certain that if the girl Nanea escaped, the king would be indignant.  Moreover, the men he took with him to do the killing in the drift would suspect something and talk.  On the other hand he would earn much credit with his majesty by revealing the plot, saying that he had learned it from the lips of the white hunter, whom Umgona and Nahoon had forced to participate in it, and of whose coveted rifle he must trust to chance to possess himself.

An hour later two discreet messengers were bounding across the plains, bearing words from the Chief Maputa, the Warden of the Border, to the “great Black Elephant” at Ulundi.