The Ghost Kings Read online

  CHAPTER II

  THE BOY

  The river towards which Rachel headed, one of the mouths of the Umtavuna,was much further off than it looked; it was, indeed, not less than a mileand a half away. She had said that she feared nothing, and it was true,for extraordinary courage was one of this child's characteristics. Shecould scarcely ever remember having felt afraid--for herself, exceptsometimes of her father when he grew angry--or was it mad that hegrew?--and raged at her, threatening her with punishment in another worldin reward for her childish sins. Even then the sensation did not lastlong, because she could not believe in that punishment which he so vividlyimagined. So it came about that now she had no fear when there was so muchcause.

  For this place was lonely; not a living creature could be seen. Moreover,a dreadful hush brooded on the face of earth, and in the sky above; onlyfar away over the mountains the lightning flickered incessantly, as thougha monster in the skies were licking their precipices and pinnacles with athousand tongues of fire. Nothing stirred, not even an insect; everycreature that drew breath had hidden itself away until the coming terrorwas overpast.

  The atmosphere was full of electricity struggling to be free. Although sheknew not what it was, Rachel felt it in her blood and brain. In somestrange way it affected her mind, opening windows there through which theeyes of her soul looked out. She became aware of some new influencedrawing near to her life; of a sudden her budding womanhood burst intoflower in her breast, shone on by an unseen sun; she was no more a child.Her being quickened and acknowledged the kinship of all things that are.That brooding, flame-threaded sky--she was a part of it, the earth shetrod, it was a part of her; the Mind that caused the stars to roll and herto live, dwelt in her bosom, and like a babe she nestled within the arm ofits almighty will.

  Now, as in a dream, Rachel descended the steep, rock-strewn banks of thedry branch of the river-bed, wending her way between the boulders andnoting that rotten weeds and peeled brushwood rested against the stems ofthe mimosa thorns which grew--there, tokens which told her that here intimes of flood the water flowed. Well, there was little enough of it now,only a pool or two to form a mirror for the lightning. In front of her laythe island where grew the Cape gooseberries, or winter cherries as theyare sometimes called, which she came to seek. It was a low piece ofground, a quarter of a mile long, perhaps, but in the centre of it weresome great rocks and growing among the rocks, trees, one of them higherthan the rest. Beyond it ran the true river, even now at the end of thedry season three or four hundred yards in breadth, though so shallow thatit could be forded by an ox-drawn waggon.

  It was raining on the mountains yonder, raining in torrents poured fromthose inky clouds, as it had done off and on for the past twenty-fourhours, and above their fire-laced bosom floated glorious-coloured massesof misty vapour, enflamed in a thousand hues by the arrows of the sinkingsun. Above her, however, there was no sun, nothing but the curtain ofcloud which grew gradually from grey to black and minute by minute sanknearer to the earth.

  Walking through the dry river-bed, Rachel reached the island which was thelast and highest of a line of similar islands that, separated from eachother by narrow breadths of water, lay like a chain, between the dry dongaand the river. Here she began to gather her gooseberries, picking thesilvery, octagonal pods from the green stems on which they grew. At firstshe opened these pods, removing from each the yellow, sub-acid berry,thinking that thus her basket would hold more, but presently abandonedthat plan as it took too much time. Also although the plants wereplentiful enough, in that low and curious light it was not easy to seethem among the dense growth of reedy vegetation.

  While she was thus engaged she became aware of a low moaning noise and astirring of the air about her which caused the leaves and grasses toquiver without bending. Then followed an ice-cold wind that grew instrength until it blew keen and hard, ruffling the surface of the marshypools. Still Rachel went on with her task, for her basket was not morethan half full, till presently the heavens above her began to mutter andto groan, and drops of rain as large as shillings fell upon her back andhands. Now she understood that it was time for her to be going, andstarted to walk across the island--for at the moment she was near itsfarther side--to reach the deep, rocky river-bed or donga.

  Before ever she came there, with awful suddenness and inconceivable fury,the tempest burst. A hurricane of wind tore down the valley to the sea,and for a few minutes the darkness became so dense that she could scarcelystumble forward. Then there was light, a dreadful light; all the heavensseemed to take fire, yes, and the earth, too; it was as though its lastdread catastrophe had fallen on the world.

  Buffeted, breathless, Rachel at length reached the edge of the deepriver-bed that may have been fifty yards in width, and was about to stepinto it when she became aware of two things. The first was a seething,roaring noise so loud that it seemed to still even the bellowing of thethunder, and the next, now seen, now lost, as the lightning pulsed anddarkened, the figure of a youth, a white youth, who had dismounted from ahorse that remained near to but above him, and stood, a gun in his hand,upon a rock at the farther side of the donga.

  He had seen her also and was shouting to her, of this she was sure, foralthough the sound of his voice was lost in the tumult, she could perceivehis gesticulations when the lightning flared, and even the movement of hislips.

  Wondering vaguely what a white boy could be doing in such a place andvery glad at the prospect of his company, Rachel began to advance towardshim in short rushes whenever the lightning showed her where to set herfeet. She had made two of these rushes when from the violence andcharacter of his movements at length she understood that he was trying toprevent her from coming further, and paused confused.

  Another instant and she knew why. Some hundreds of yards above her theriver bed took a turn, and suddenly round this turn, crested with foam,appeared a wall of water in which trees and the carcases of animals werewhirled along like straws. The flood had come down from the mountains, andwas advancing on her more swiftly than a horse could gallop. Rachel ranforward a little way, then understanding that she had no time to cross,stood bewildered, for the fearful tumult of the elements and the dreadfulroaring of that advancing wall of foam overwhelmed her senses. Thelightnings went out for a moment, then began to play again with tenfoldfrequency and force. They struck upon, the nearing torrent, they struck inthe dry bed before it, and leapt upwards from the earth as though Titansand gods were hurling spears at one another.

  In the lurid sheen of them she saw the lad leap from his rock and rushtowards her. A flash fell and split a boulder not thirty paces from him,causing him to stagger, but he recovered himself and ran on. Now he wasquite close, but the water was closer still. It was coming in tiers orledges, a thin sheet of foam in front, then other layers laid upon it,each of them a few yards behind its fellow. On the top ledge, in its verycrest, was a bull buffalo, dead, but held head on and down as though itwere charging, and Rachel thought vaguely that from the direction in whichit came in a few moments its horns would strike her. Another second and anarm was about her waist--she noted how white it was where the sleeve wasrolled up, dead white in the lightning--and she was being dragged towardsthe shore that she had left. The first film of water struck her and nearlywashed her from her feet, but she was strong and active, and the touch ofthat arm seemed to have given her back her wit, so she regained them andsplashed forward. Now the next tier took them both above the knees, butfor a moment shallowed so that they did not fall. The high bank was scarcefive yards away, and the wall of waters perhaps a score.

  "Together for life or death!" said an English voice in her ear, and theshout of it only reached her in a whisper.

  The boy and the girl leapt forward like bucks. They reached the bank andstruggled up it. The hungry waters sprang at them like a living thing,grasping their feet and legs as though with hands; a stick as it whirledby them struck the lad upon the shoulder, and where it struck the clotheswere rent away and red blo
od appeared. Almost he fell, but this time itwas Rachel who supported him. Then one more struggle and they rolledexhausted on the ground just clear of the lip of the racing flood.

  Thus through tempest, threatened by the waters of death from which hesnatched her, and companioned by heaven's lightnings, did Richard Darriencome into the life of Rachel Dove.

  Presently, having recovered their breath, they sat up and looked at eachother by lightning light, which was all there was. He was a handsome ladof about seventeen, though short for his years; sturdy in build, veryfair-skinned and curiously enough with a singular resemblance to Rachel,except that his hair was a few shades darker than hers. They had the sameclear grey eyes, and the same well-cut features; indeed seen together,most people would have thought them brother and sister, and remarked upontheir family likeness. Rachel spoke the first.

  "Who are you?" she shouted into his ear in one of the intervals ofdarkness, "and why did you come here?"

  "My name is Richard Darrien," he answered at the top of his voice, "and Idon't know why I came. I suppose something sent me to save you."

  "Yes," she replied with conviction, "something sent you. If you had notcome I should be dead, shouldn't I? In glory, as my father says."

  "I don't know about glory, or what it is," he remarked, after thinkingthis saying over, "but you would have been rolling out to sea in the floodwater, like that buffalo, with not a whole bone in you, which isn't myidea of glory."

  "That's because your father isn't a missionary," said Rachel.

  "No, he is an officer, naval officer, or at least he was, now he tradesand hunts. We are coming down from Natal. But what's your name?"

  "Rachel Dove."

  "Well, Rachel Dove--that's very pretty, Rachel Dove, as you would be ifyou were cleaner--it is going to rain presently. Is there any place wherewe can shelter here?"

  "I am as clean as you are," she answered indignantly. "The river muddiedme, that's all. You can go and shelter, I will stop and let the rain washme."

  "And die of the cold or be struck by lightning. Of course I knew youweren't dirty really. Is there any, place?"

  She nodded, mollified.

  "I think I know one. Come," and she stretched out her hand.

  He took it, and thus hand in hand they made their way to the highest pointof the island where the trees grew, for here the rocks piled up togethermade a kind of cave in which Rachel and her mother had sat for a littlewhile when they visited the place. As they groped their way towards it thelightning blazed out and they saw a great jagged flash strike the tallesttree and shatter it, causing some wild beast that had sheltered there torush past them snorting.

  "That doesn't look very safe," said Richard halting, "but come on, itisn't likely to hit the same spot twice."

  "Hadn't you better leave your gun?" she suggested, for all this while thatweapon had been slung to his back and she knew that lightning has anaffinity for iron.

  "Certainly not," he answered, "it is a new one which my father gave me,and I won't be parted from it."

  Then they went on and reached the little cave just as the rain broke overthem in earnest. As it chanced the place was dry, being so situated thatall water ran away from it. They crouched in it shivering, trying to coverthemselves with dead sticks and brushwood that had lodged here in the wetseason when the whole island was under water.

  "It would be nice enough if only we had a fire," said Rachel, her teethchattering as she spoke.

  The lad Richard thought a while. Then he opened a leather case that hungon his rifle sling and took from it a powder flask and flint and steel andsome tinder. Pouring a little powder on the damp tinder, he struck theflint until at length a spark caught and fired the powder. The tindercaught also, though reluctantly, and while Rachel blew on it, he feltround for dead leaves and little sticks, some of which were coaxed intoflame.

  After this things were easy since fuel lay about in abundance, so thatsoon they had a splendid fire burning in the mouth of the cave whence thesmoke escaped. Now they were able to warm and dry themselves, and as theheat entered into their chilled bodies, their spirits rose. Indeed thecontrast between this snug hiding place and blazing fire of drift wood andthe roaring tempest without, conduced to cheerfulness in young people whohad just narrowly escaped from drowning.

  "I am so hungry," said Rachel, presently.

  Again Richard began to search, and this time produced from the pocket ofhis coat a long and thick strip of sun-dried meat.

  "Can you eat biltong?" he asked.

  "Of course," she answered eagerly.

  "Then you must cut it up," he said, giving her the meat and his knife. "Myarm hurts me, I can't."

  "Oh!" she exclaimed, "how selfish I am. I forgot about that stick strikingyou. Let me see the place."

  He took off his coat and knelt down while she stood over him and examinedhis wound by the light of the fire, to find that the left upper arm wasbruised, torn and bleeding. As it will be remembered that Rachel had nohandkerchief, she asked Richard for his, which she soaked in a pool ofrain water just outside the cave. Then, having washed the hurt thoroughly,she bandaged his arm with the handkerchief and bade him put on his coatagain, saying confidently that he would be well in a few days.

  "You are clever," he remarked with admiration. "Who taught you to bandagewounds?"

  "My father always doctors the Kaffirs and I help him," Rachel answered,as, having stretched out her hands for the pouring rain to wash them, shetook the biltong and began to cut it in thin slices.

  These she made him eat before she touched any herself, for she saw thatthe loss of blood had weakened him. Indeed her own meal was a light one,since half the strip of meat must, she declared, be put aside in case theyshould not be able to get off the island. Then he saw why she had made himeat first and was very angry with himself and her, but she only laughed athim and answered that she had learned from the Kaffirs that men must befed before women as they were more important in the world.

  "You mean more selfish," he answered, contemplating this wise little maidand her tiny portion of biltong, which she swallowed very slowly, perhapsto pretend that her appetite was already satisfied with itssuperabundance. Then he fell to imploring her to take the rest, sayingthat he would be able to shoot some game in the morning, but she onlyshook her little head and set her lips obstinately.

  "Are you a hunter?" she asked to change the subject.

  "Yes," he answered with pride, "that is, almost. At any rate I have shoteland, and an elephant, but no lions yet. I was following the spoor of alion just now, but it got up between the rocks and bolted away before Icould shoot. I think that it must have been after you."

  "Perhaps," said Rachel. "There are some about here; I have heard themroaring at night."

  "Then," he went on, "while I was staring at you running across thisisland, I heard the sound of the water and saw it rushing down the donga,and saw too that you must be drowned, and--you know the rest."

  "Yes, I know the rest," she said, looking at him with shining eyes. "Yourisked your life to save mine, and therefore," she added with quietconviction, "it belongs to you."

  He stared at her and remarked simply:

  "I wish it did. This morning I wished to kill a lion with my new _roer_,"and he pointed to the heavy gun at his side, "above everything else, butto-night I wish that your life belonged to me--above anything else."

  Their eyes met, and child though she was, Rachel saw something in those ofRichard that caused her to turn her head.

  "Where are you going?" she asked quickly.

  "Back to my father's farm in Graaf-Reinet, to sell the ivory. There arethree others besides my father, two Boers and one Englishman."

  "And I am going to Natal where you come from," she answered, "so I supposethat after to-night we shall never see each other again, although my lifedoes belong to you--that is if we escape."

  Just then the tempest which had lulled a little, came on again in fury,accompanied by a hurricane of wind and del
uge of rain, through which thelightning blazed incessantly. The thunderclaps too were so loud andconstant that the sound of them, which shook the earth, made it impossiblefor Richard and Rachel to hear each other speak. So they were silentperforce. Only Richard rose and looked out of the cave, then turned andbeckoned to his companion. She came to him and watched, till suddenly ablinding sheet of flame lit up the whole landscape. Then she saw what hewas looking at, for now nearly all the island, except that high part of iton which they stood, was under water, hidden by a brown, seething torrent,that tore past them to the sea.

  "If it rises much more, we shall be drowned," he shouted in her ear.

  She nodded, then cried back:

  "Let us say our prayers and get ready," for it seemed to Rachel that the"glory" of which her father spoke so often was nearer to them than ever.

  Then she drew him back into the cave and motioned to him to kneel besideher, which he did bashfully enough, and for a while the two children, forthey were little more, remained thus with clasped hands and moving lips.Presently the thunder lessened a little so that once more they could heareach other speak.

  "What did you pray about?" he asked when they had risen from their knees.

  "I prayed that you might escape, and that my mother might not grieve forme too much," she answered simply. "And you?"

  "I? Oh! the same--that you might escape. I did not pray for my mother asshe is dead, and I forgot about father."

  "Look, look!" exclaimed Rachel, pointing to the mouth of the cave.

  He stared out at the darkness, and there, through the thin flames of thefire, saw two great yellow shapes which appeared to be walking up and downand glaring into the cave.

  "Lions," he gasped, snatching at his gun.

  "Don't shoot," she cried, "you might make them angry. Perhaps they onlywant to take refuge like ourselves. The fire will keep them away."

  He nodded, then remembering that the charge and priming, of his flint-lock_roer_ must be damp, hurriedly set to work by the help of Rachel to drawit with the screw on the end of his ramrod, and this done, to reload withsome powder that he had already placed to dry on a flat stone near thefire. This operation took five minutes or more. When at length it wasfinished, and the lock reprimed with the dry powder, the two of them,Richard holding the _roer_, crept to the mouth of the cave and looked outagain.

  The great storm was passing now, and the rain grew thinner, but from timeto time the lightning, no longer forked or chain-shaped, flared in widesheets. By its ghastly illumination they saw a strange sight. There on theisland top the two lions marched backwards and forwards as though theywere in a cage, making a kind of whimpering noise as they went, andstaring round them uneasily. Moreover, these were not alone, for gatheredthere were various other animals, driven down by the flood from theislands above them, reed and water bucks, and a great eland. Among thesethe lions walked without making the slightest effort to attack them, nordid the antelopes, which stood sniffing and staring at the torrent, takeany notice of the lions, or attempt to escape.

  "You are right," said Richard, "they are all frightened, and will not harmus, unless the water rises more, and they rush into the cave. Come, makeup the fire."

  They did so, and sat down on its further side, watching till, as nothinghappened, their dread of the lions passed away, and they began to talkagain, telling to each other the stories of their lives.

  Richard Darrien, it seemed, had been in Africa about five years, hisfather having emigrated there on the death of his mother, as he hadnothing but the half-pay of a retired naval captain, and he hoped tobetter his fortunes in a new land. He had been granted a farm in theGraaf-Reinet district, but like many other of the early settlers, met withmisfortunes. Now, to make money, he had taken to elephant-hunting, andwith his partners was just returning from a very successful expedition inthe coast lands of Natal, at that time an almost unexplored territory. Hisfather had allowed Richard to accompany the party, but when they got back,added the boy with sorrow, he was to be sent for two or three years to thecollege at Capetown, since until then his father had not been able toafford him the luxury of an education. Afterwards he wished him to adopt aprofession, but on this point he--Richard--had made up his mind, althoughat present he said little about that. He would be a hunter, and nothingelse, until he grew too old to hunt, when he intended to take to farming.

  His story done, Rachel told him hers, to which he listened eagerly.

  "Is your father mad?" he asked when she had finished.

  "No," she answered. "How dare you suggest it? He is only very good; muchbetter than anybody else."

  "Well, it seems to come to much the same thing, doesn't it?" said Richard,"for otherwise he would not have sent you to gather gooseberries here withsuch a storm coming on."

  "Then why did your father send you to hunt lions with such a storm comingon?" she asked.

  "He didn't send me. I came of myself; I said that I wanted to shoot abuck, and finding the spoor of a lion I followed it. The waggons must be along way ahead now, for when I left them I returned to that kloof where Ihad seen the buck. I don't know how I shall overtake them again, andcertainly nobody will ever think of looking for me here, as after thisrain they can't spoor the horse."

  "Supposing you don't find it--I mean your horse--tomorrow, what shall youdo?" asked Rachel. "We haven't got any to lend you."

  "Walk and try to catch them up," he replied.

  "And if you can't catch them up?"

  "Come back to you, as the wild Kaffirs ahead would kill me if I went onalone."

  "Oh! But what would your father think?"

  "He would think there was one boy the less, that's all, and be sorry for awhile. People often vanish in Africa where there are so many lions andsavages."

  Rachel reflected a while, then finding the subject difficult, suggestedthat he should find out what their own particular lions were doing. SoRichard went to look, and reported that the storm had ceased, and that bythe moonlight he could see no lions or any other animals, so he thoughtthat they must have gone away somewhere. The flood waters also appeared tobe running down. Comforted by this intelligence Rachel piled on the firenearly all the wood that remained to them. Then they sat down again sideby side, and tried to continue their conversation. By degrees it drooped,however, and the end of it was that presently this pair were fast asleepin each other's arms.