The Ghost Kings

THE GHOST KINGS

Meanwhile his passion increased daily, burning ever more fiercely for its continued repression, until at length the chance for which he had waited so long came to him.

Having become aware of Rachel’s habit of slipping away whenever he appeared, he showed himself on horseback at a little distance, then waited a while and, instead of going up to the mission station, rode round it, and hid in some bush whence he could command a view of the surrounding country. Presently he saw Rachel, who was alone, for she had not waited to call Noie, hurrying towards the seashore, along the edge of that kloof down which ran the stream where the crocodiles lived. Presently, when she had gone too far to return to the house if she caught sight of him, he followed after her, and, leaving his horse, at last came up with her seated on a rock by the pool in which she had bathed on the morning of the massacre.

Walking softly in his veld-schoens, or shoes made of raw hide, on the sand, Rachel knew nothing of his coming until his shadow fell upon her. Then she sprang up and saw him, smiling and bowing, the ostrich-plume hat in his hand. Her first impulse was to run away, but recovering herself she nodded in a friendly fashion, and bade him “Good day,” adding:

“What are you doing here, Mr. Ishmael, hunting?”

“Yes,” he answered, “that’s it. Hunting you. It has been a long chase, but I have caught you at last.”

“Really, I am not a wild creature, Mr. Ishmael,” she said indignantly.

“No,” he answered, “you are more beautiful and more dangerous than any wild creature.”

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Rachel looked at him. Then she made, as though she would pass him, saying that she was going home. Now Ishmael stood between two rocks filling the only egress from this place.

He stretched out his arms so that his fingers touched the rocks on either side, and said:

“You can’t. You must listen to me first. I came here to say what I have wanted to tell you for a long time. I love you, and I ask you to marry me.”

“Indeed,” she replied, setting her face. “How can that be? I understood that you were already married – several times over.”

“Who told you that?” he asked, angrily. “I know – that accursed little witch, Noie.”

“Don’t speak any ill of Noie, please; she is my friend.” “Then you have a liar for your friend. Those women are

only my servants.”

“It doesn’t matter to me what they are, Mr. Ishmael. I have no wish to know your private affairs. Shall we stop this talk, which is not pleasant?”

“No,” he answered. “I tell you that I love you and I mean to marry you, with your will or without it. Let it be with your will, Rachel,” he added, pleadingly, “for I will make you a good husband. Also I am well-born, much better than you think, and I am rich, rich enough to take you out of this country, if you like. I have thousands of cattle, and a great deal of money put by, good English gold that I have got from the sale of ivory. You shall come with me from among all these savage people back to England, and live as you like.”

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“Thank you, but I prefer the savages, as you seem to have done until now. No, do not try to touch me; you know that I can defend myself if I choose,” and she glanced at the pistol which she always carried in that wild land, “I am not afraid of you, Mr. Ishmael; it is you who are afraid of me.”

“Perhaps I am,” he exclaimed, “because those Zulus are right, you are tagati, an enchantress, not like other women, white or black. If it were not so, would you have driven me mad as you have done? I tell you I can’t sleep for thinking of you. Oh! Rachel, Rachel, don’t be angry with me. Have pity on me. Give me some hope. I know that my life has been rough in the past, but I will become good again for your sake and live like a Christian. But if you refuse me, if you send me back to hell – then you shall learn what I can be.”

“I know what you are, Mr. Ishmael, and that is quite enough. I do not wish to be unkind, or to say anything that will pain you, but please go away, and never try to speak to me again like this, as it is quite useless. You must understand that I will never marry you, never.”

“Are you in love with somebody else?” he asked hoarsely, and at the question, do what she would to prevent it, Rachel coloured a little.

“How can I be in love here, unless it were with a dream?” “A dream, a dream of a man you mean. Well, don’t let him

cross my path, or it will soon be the dream of a ghost. I tell you I’d kill him. If I can’t have you, no one else shall. Do you understand?”

“I understand that I am tired of this. Let me go home, please.”

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“Home! Soon you will have no home to go to except mine – that is, if you don’t change your mind about me. I have power here – don’t you understand? I have power.”

As he spoke these words the man looked so evil that Rachel shivered a little. But she answered boldly enough:

“I understand that you have no power at all against me; no one has. It is I who have the power.”

“Yes, because as I said, you are tagati, but there are others” As these words passed his lips someone slipped by him.

Starting back, he saw that it was Noie, draped in her usual white robe, for nothing would induce her to wear European clothes. Passing him as though she saw him not, she went to Rachel and said:

“Inkosazana, I was at my work in the house yonder and I thought that I heard you calling me down here by the seashore, so I came. Is it your pleasure that I should accompany you home?”

“For instance,” he went on furiously, “there is that black slut whom you are fond of. Well, if I can’t hurt you, I can hurt her. Daughter of Seyapi, you know how runaways die in Zululand, or if you don’t you shall soon learn. I will pay you back for all your tricks,” and he stopped, choking with rage.

Noie looked him up and down with her soft, dreamy brown eyes.

“Do you think so, Night-prowler?” she asked. “Do you think that what you did to the father and his house, you will do to the daughter also? Well, it is strange, but last night, just before the cock crew, I sat by Seyapi’s grave, and he spoke to

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me of you, White Man. Listen, now, and I will tell you what he said,” and stepping forward she whispered in his ear.

Rachel, watching, saw the man’s swarthy face turn pale as he hearkened, then he lifted his hand as though to strike her, let it fall again, and muttering curses in English and in Zulu, turned and walked, or rather staggered away.

“What did you tell him, Noie?” asked Rachel.

“Never mind, Zoola,” she answered. “Perhaps the truth; perhaps what came into my mind. At any rate I frightened him away. He was making love to you, was he not, the low silwana (wild beast)? Ah! I thought so, for that he has wished to do for long. And he threatened, did he not? Well, you are right; he cannot hurt you at all, and me only a little, I think. But he is very dangerous and very strong, and can hurt others. If your father is wise he will leave this place, Zoola.”

“I think so too,” answered Rachel. “Let us go home and tell him so.”

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CHAPTER VIII

MR. DOVE VISITS ISHMAEL

When Rachel and Noie reached the house, which they did not do for some time, as they waited to make sure that Ishmael had really gone, it was to see the man himself riding away from its gate.

“Be prepared,” said Noie; “I think that he has been here before us to pour poison into your father’s ears.”

So it proved to be, indeed, for on the stoep or verandah they found Mr. Dove walking up and down evidently much disturbed in mind.

“What is all this trouble, Rachel?” he asked. “What have you done to Mr. Smith” – for Mr. Dove in pursuance of the suggestion made by the man, had adopted that name for him which he considered less peculiar than Ishmael. “He has been here much upset, declaring that you have used him cruelly, and that Nonha threatened him with terrible things in the future, of which, of course, she can know nothing.”

“Well, father, if you wish to hear,” answered Rachel, “Mr. Ishmael, or Mr. Smith as you call him, has been asking me to marry him, and when I refused, as of course I did, behaved very unpleasantly.”

“Indeed, Rachel. I gathered from him that something of the sort had happened, only his story is that it was you who be-

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haved unpleasantly, speaking to him as though he were dirt. Now, Rachel, of course I do not want you to marry this person, in fact, I should dislike it, although I have seen a great change for the better in him lately – I mean spiritually, of course – and an earnest repentance for the errors of his past life. All I mean is that the proffered affection of an honest man should not be met with scorn and sharp words.”

Up to this point Rachel endured the lecture in silence, but now she could bear no more.

“Honest man!” she exclaimed. “Father, are you deaf and blind, or only so good yourself that you cannot see evil in others? Do you know that it was this ‘honest man’ who brought about the murder of all Noie’s people in order that he might curry favour with the Zulus?”

Mr. Dove started, and turning, asked: “Is that so, Nonha?”

“It is so, Teacher,” answered Noie, “although I have never spoken of it to you. Afterwards I will tell you the story, if you wish.”

“And do you know,” went on Rachel, “why he will never let you visit his kraal among the hills yonder? Well, I will tell you. It is because this ‘honest man,’ who wishes me to marry him, keeps his Kaffir wives and children there!”

“Rachel!” replied her father, in much distress, “I will never believe it; you are only repeating native scandal. Why, he has often spoken to me with horror of such things.”

“I daresay he has, father. Well, now, I ask you to judge for yourself. Take a guide and start two hours before daybreak to-

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morrow morning to visit that kraal, and see if what I say is not true.”

“I will, indeed,” exclaimed Mr. Dove, who was now thoroughly aroused, for it was conduct of this sort that had caused his bitter quarrel with the first settlers in Natal. “I cannot believe the story, Rachel, I really cannot; but I promise you that if I should find cause to do so, the man shall never put foot in my house again.”

“Then I think that I am rid of him,” said Rachel, with a sigh of relief, “only be careful, dear, that he does not do you a mischief, for such men do not like to be found out.” Then she left the stoep, and went to tell her mother all that had happened.

When she had heard the story, Mrs. Dove, who detested Ishmael as much as her daughter did, tried to persuade her husband not to visit his kraal, saying that it would only breed a feud, and that under the circumstances, it would be easy to forbid him the house upon other grounds. But Mr. Dove, obstinate as usual, refused to listen to her, saying that he would not judge the man without evidence, and that of the natives could not be relied on. Also, if the tale were true, it was his duty as his spiritual adviser to remonstrate with him.

So his poor wife gave up arguing, as she always did, and long before dawn on the following morning, Mr. Dove, accompanied by two guides, departed upon his errand.

After he had ridden some twelve miles across the plain which lay behind Ramah, just at daybreak, he reached a pass or nek between two swelling hills, beyond which the guides said lay the kraal that was called Mafooti. Presently he saw it, a place situated in a cup-like valley, chosen evidently because

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the approaches to it were easy to defend. On a knoll in the centre of this rich valley stood the kraal, a small native town surrounded by walls, and stone enclosures full of cattle. As they approached the kraal, from its main entrance issued four or five good-looking native women, one of them accompanied by a boy, and all carrying hoes in their hands, for they were going out at sunrise to work in the mealie fields. When they saw Mr. Dove they stood still, staring at him, till he called to them not to be afraid, and riding up, asked them who they were.

“We are of the number of the wives of Ibubesi, the Lion,” answered their spokeswoman, who held the little boy by the hand.

“Do you mean the Umlungu (that is, the white man), Ishmael?” he asked again.

“Whom else should we mean?” she answered. “I am his head wife, now that he has put away old Mami, and this is his son. If the light were stronger you would see that he is almost white,” she added, with pride.

Mr. Dove knew not what to answer; this intelligence overwhelmed him, and he sat silent on his horse. The wives of Ishmael prepared to pass on to the mealie fields, then stopped, and began to whisper together. At length the mother of the boy turned and addressed him, while the others crowded behind her to listen.

“We desire to ask you a question, Teacher,” she said, somewhat shyly, for evidently they knew well enough who he was. “Is it true that we are to have a new sister?”

“A new sister! What do you mean?” asked Mr. Dove.

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“We mean, Teacher,” she replied smiling, “that we have heard that Ibubesi is courting the beautiful Zoola, the daughter of your head wife, and we thought that perhaps you had come to arrange about the cattle that he must pay for her. Doubtless if she is so fair, it will be a whole herd.”

This was too much, even for Mr. Dove.

“How dare you talk so, you heathen hussies?” he gasped. “Where is the white man?”

“Teacher,” she replied with indignation, and drawing herself up, “why do you call us bad names? We are respectable women, the wives of one husband, as respectable as your own, although not so numerous, or so we hear from Ibubesi. If you desire to see him, he is in the big hut, yonder, with our youngest sister, she whom he married last month. We wish you good day, as we go to hoe our lord’s fields, and we hope that when she comes, the Inkosazana, your daughter, will not be as rude as you are, for if so, how shall we love her as we wish to do?” Then wrapping her blanket round her with a dignified air, the offended lady stalked off, followed by her various “sisters.”

As for Mr. Dove, who for once in his life was in a towering rage, he cut his horse viciously with the sjambok, or hippopot- amus-hide whip, which he carried, and followed by his guides, galloped forward to a big hut in the centre of the kraal.

Apparently Ishmael heard the sound of his horse’s hoofs, for as the missionary was dismounting he crawled out of the bee-hole of the hut upon his hands and knees, as a Kaffir does, followed by a young woman in the lightest of attire, who was yawning as though she had just been aroused from sleep. What is more, except for the colour of his skin, he was a Kaffir and

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