Allan's Wife Page 9

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE MARBLE KRAALS

  At length the last platform, or terrace, was reached, and we pulled upoutside the wall surrounding the central group of marble huts--for soI must call them, for want of a better name. Our approach had beenobserved by a crowd of natives, whose race I have never been able todetermine accurately; they belonged to the Basutu and peaceful sectionof the Bantu peoples rather than to the Zulu and warlike. Several ofthese ran up to take the horses, gazing on us with astonishment, notunmixed with awe. We dismounted--speaking for myself, not withoutdifficulty--indeed, had it not been for Stella's support I should havefallen.

  "Now you must come and see my father," she said. "I wonder what he willthink of it, it is all so strange. Hendrika, take the child to my hutand give her milk, then put her into my bed; I will come presently."

  Hendrika went off with a somewhat ugly grin to do her mistress'sbidding, and Stella led the way through the narrow gateway in the marblewall, which may have enclosed nearly half an "erf," or three-quarters ofan acre of ground in all. It was beautifully planted as a garden, manyEuropean vegetables and flowers were growing in it, besides others withwhich I was not acquainted. Presently we came to the centre hut, andit was then that I noticed the extraordinary beauty and finish of themarble masonry. In the hut, and facing the gateway, was a modern door,rather rudely fashioned of Buckenhout, a beautiful reddish wood thathas the appearance of having been sedulously pricked with a pin. Stellaopened it, and we entered. The interior of the hut was the size of alarge and lofty room, the walls being formed of plain polished marble.It was lighted somewhat dimly, but quite effectively, by peculiaropenings in the roof, from which the rain was excluded by overhangingeaves. The marble floor was strewn with native mats and skins ofanimals. Bookcases filled with books were placed against the walls,there was a table in the centre, chairs seated with rimpi or strips ofhide stood about, and beyond the table was a couch on which a man waslying reading.

  "Is that you, Stella?" said a voice, that even after so many yearsseemed familiar to me. "Where have you been, my dear? I began to thinkthat you had lost yourself again."

  "No, father, dear, I have not lost myself, but I have found somebodyelse."

  At that moment I stepped forward so that the light fell on me. The oldgentleman on the couch rose with some difficulty and bowed with muchcourtesy. He was a fine-looking old man, with deep-set dark eyes, a paleface that bore many traces of physical and mental suffering, and a longwhite beard.

  "Be welcome, sir," he said. "It is long since we have seen a whiteface in these wilds, and yours, if I am not mistaken, is that of anEnglishman. There has been but one Englishman here for twelve years, andhe, I grieve to say, was an outcast flying from justice," and he bowedagain and stretched out his hand.

  I looked at him, and then of a sudden his name flashed back into mymind. I took his hand.

  "How do you do, Mr. Carson?" I said.

  He started as though he had been stung.

  "Who told you that name?" he cried. "It is a dead name. Stella, is ityou? I forbade you to let it pass your lips."

  "I did not speak it, father. I have never spoken it," she answered.

  "Sir," I broke in, "if you will allow me I will show you how I came toknow your name. Do you remember many years ago coming into the study ofa clergyman in Oxfordshire and telling him that you were going to leaveEngland for ever?"

  He bowed his head.

  "And do you remember a little boy who sat upon the hearthrug writingwith a pencil?"

  "I do," he said.

  "Sir, I was that boy, and my name is Allan Quatermain. Those childrenwho lay sick are all dead, their mother is dead, and my father, your oldfriend, is dead also. Like you he emigrated, and last year he died inthe Cape. But that is not all the story. After many adventures, I, oneKaffir, and a little girl, lay senseless and dying in the Bad Lands,where we had wandered for days without water, and there we should haveperished, but your daughter, Miss----"

  "Call her Stella," he broke in, hastily. "I cannot bear to hear thatname. I have forsworn it."

  "Miss Stella found us by chance and saved our lives."

  "By chance, did you say, Allan Quatermain?" he answered. "There islittle chance in all this; such chances spring from another will thanours. Welcome, Allan, son of my old friend. Here we live as it were in ahermitage, with Nature as our only friend, but such as we have is yours,and for as long as you will take it. But you must be starving; talk nomore now. Stella, it is time to eat. To-morrow we will talk."

  To tell the truth I can recall very little of the events of thatevening. A kind of dizzy weariness overmastered me. I remember sittingat a table next to Stella, and eating heartily, and then I remembernothing more.

  I awoke to find myself lying on a comfortable bed in a hut built andfashioned on the same model as the centre one. While I was wonderingwhat time it was, a native came bringing some clean clothes on his arm,and, luxury of luxuries, produced a bath hollowed from wood. I rose,feeling a very different man, my strength had come back again to me; Idressed, and following a covered passage found myself in the centre hut.Here the table was set for breakfast with all manner of good things,such as I had not seen for many a month, which I contemplated withhealthy satisfaction. Presently I looked up, and there before me was amore delightful sight, for standing in one of the doorways which led tothe sleeping huts was Stella, leading little Tota by the hand.

  She was very simply dressed in a loose blue gown, with a wide collar,and girdled in at the waist by a little leather belt. In the bosom ofher robe was a bunch of orange blooms, and her rippling hair was tiedin a single knot behind her shapely head. She greeted me with a smile,asking how I had slept, and then held Tota up for me to kiss. Under herloving care the child had been quite transformed. She was neatly dressedin a garment of the same blue stuff that Stella wore, her fair hair wasbrushed; indeed, had it not been for the sun blisters on her face andhands, one would scarcely have believed that this was the same childwhom Indaba-zimbi and I had dragged for hour after hour through theburning, waterless desert.

  "We must breakfast alone, Mr. Allan," she said; "my father is so upsetby your arrival that he will not get up yet. Oh, you cannot tell howthankful I am that you have come. I have been so anxious about him oflate. He grows weaker and weaker; it seems to me as though the strengthwere ebbing away from him. Now he scarcely leaves the kraal, I have tomanage everything about the farm; he does nothing but read and think."

  Just then Hendrika entered, bearing a jug of coffee in one hand and ofmilk in the other, which she set down upon the table, casting a look oflittle love at me as she did so.

  "Be careful, Hendrika; you are spilling the coffee," said Stella. "Don'tyou wonder how we come to have coffee here, Mr. Allan? I will tellyou--we grow it. That was my idea. Oh, I have lots of things to showyou. You don't know what we have managed to do in the time that we havebeen here. You see we have plenty of labour, for the people about lookupon my father as their chief."

  "Yes," I said, "but how do you get all these luxuries of civilization?"and I pointed to the books, the crockery, and the knives and forks.

  "Very simply. Most of the books my father brought with him when we firsttrekked into the wilds; there was nearly a waggon load of them. Butevery few years we have sent an expedition of three waggons right downto Port Natal. The waggons are loaded with ivory and other goods, andcome back with all kinds of things that been sent out from Englandfor us. So you see, although we live in this wild place, we are notaltogether cut off. We can send runners to Natal and back in threemonths, and the waggons get there and back in a year. The last lotarrived quite safe about three months ago. Our servants are veryfaithful, and some of them speak Dutch well."

  "Have you ever been with the waggons?" I asked.

  "Since I was a child I have never been more than thirty miles fromBabyan's Peak," she answered. "Do you know, Mr. Allan, that you are,with one exception, the first Englishman that I have known out of abook.
I suppose that I must seem very wild and savage to you, but I havehad one advantage--a good education. My father has taught me everything,and perhaps I know some things that you don't. I can read French andGerman, for instance. I think that my father's first idea was to let merun wild altogether, but he gave it up."

  "And don't you wish to go into the world?" I asked.

  "Sometimes," she said, "when I get lonely. But perhaps my father isright--perhaps it would frighten and bewilder me. At any rate he wouldnever return to civilization; it is his idea, you know, although I amsure I do not know where he got it from, nor why he cannot bear thatour name should be spoken. In short, Mr. Quatermain, we do not make ourlives, we must take them as we find them. Have you done your breakfast?Let us go out, and I will show you our home."

  I rose and went to my sleeping-place to fetch my hat. When I returned,Mr. Carson--for after all that was his name, though he would never allowit to be spoken--had come into the hut. He felt better now, he said, andwould accompany us on our walk if Stella would give him an arm.

  So we started, and after us came Hendrika with Tota and old Indaba-zimbiwhom I found sitting outside as fresh as paint. Nothing could tire thatold man.

  The view from the platform was almost as beautiful as that from thelower ground looking up to the peak. The marble kraals, as I have said,faced west, consequently all the upper terrace lay in the shadow of thegreat peak till nearly eleven o'clock in the morning--a great advantagein that warm latitude. First we walked through the garden, which wasbeautifully cultivated, and one of the most productive that I ever saw.There were three or four natives working in it, and they all salutedmy host as "Baba," or father. Then we visited the other two groups ofmarble huts. One of these was used for stables and outbuildings, theother as storehouses, the centre hut having been, however, turned intoa chapel. Mr. Carson was not ordained, but he earnestly tried to convertthe natives, most of whom were refugees who had come to him for shelter,and he had practised the more elementary rites of the church for so longthat I think he began to believe that he really was a clergyman. Forinstance, he always married those of his people who would consent to amonogamous existence, and baptized their children.

  When we had examined those wonderful remains of antiquity, the marblehuts, and admired the orange trees, the vines and fruits which thrivelike weeds in this marvellous soil and climate, we descended to the nextplatform, and saw the farming operations in full swing. I think that itwas the best farm I have ever seen in Africa. There was ample waterfor purposes of irrigation, the grass lands below gave pasturage forhundreds of head of cattle and horses, and, for natives, the people weremost industrious. Moreover, the whole place was managed by Mr. Carson onthe co-operative system; he only took a tithe of the produce--indeed, inthis land of teeming plenty, what was he to do with more? Consequentlythe tribesmen, who, by the way, called themselves the "Children ofThomas," were able to accumulate considerable wealth. All their disputeswere referred to their "father," and he also was judge of offences andcrimes. Some were punished by imprisonment, whipping, and loss of goods,other and graver transgressions by expulsion from the community, a fiatwhich to one of these favoured natives must have seemed as heavy as thedecree that drove Adam from the Garden of Eden.

  Old Mr. Carson leaned upon his daughter's arm and contemplated the scenewith pride.

  "I have done all this, Allan Quatermain," he said. "When renouncingcivilization, I wandered here by chance; seeking a home in the remotestplaces of the world, I found this lonely spot a wilderness. Nothingwas to be seen except the site, the domes of the marble huts, and thewaterfalls. I took possession of the huts. I cleared the path of gardenland and planted the orange grove. I had only six natives then, but bydegrees others joined me, now my tribe is a thousand strong. Here welive in profound peace and plenty. I have all I need, and I seek nomore. Heaven has prospered me so far--may it do so to the end, which forme draws nigh. And now I am tired and will go back. If you wish to seethe old quarry and the mouth of the ancient mines, Stella will show themto you. No, my love, you need not trouble to come, I can manage. Look!some of the headmen are waiting to see me."

  So he went; but still followed by Hendrika and Indaba-zimbi, we turned,and, walking along the bank of one of the rivers, passed up behind themarble kraals, and came to the quarry, whence the material of which theywere built had been cut in some remote age. The pit opened up a verythick seam of the whitest and most beautiful marble. I know anotherlike it in Natal. But by whom it had been worked I cannot say; notby natives, that is certain, though the builders of these kraals hadcondescended to borrow the shape of native huts for their model. Bythe way, the only relic of those builders that I ever saw was a highlyfinished bronze pick-axe which Stella had found one day in the quarry.

  After we had examined this quarry we climbed the slope of the hilltill we came to the mouth of the ancient mines which were situated in agorge. I believe them to have been silver mines. The gorge was long andnarrow, and the moment we entered it there rose from every side a soundof groaning and barking that was almost enough to deafen us. I knew whatit was at once: the whole place was filled with baboons, which clambereddown the rocks towards us from every direction, and in a manner thatstruck me as being unnaturally fearless. Stella turned a little pale andclung to my arm.

  "It is very silly of me," she whispered. "I am not at all nervous, butever since they killed Hendrik I cannot bear the sight of those animals.I always think that there is something human about them."

  Meanwhile the baboons drew nearer, talking to each other as they came.Tota began to cry, and clung to Stella. Stella clung to me, while Iand Indaba-zimbi put as bold a front on the matter as we could. OnlyHendrika stood looking at the brutes with an unconcerned smile on hermonkey face. When the great apes were quite near, she suddenly calledaloud. Instantly they stopped their hideous clamour as though at a wordof command. Then Hendrika addressed them: I can only describe it so.That is to say, she began to make a noise such as baboons do when theyconverse with each other. I have known Hottentots and Bushmen who saidthat they could talk with the baboons and understand their language, butI confess I never heard it done before or since.

  From the mouth of Hendrika came a succession of grunts, groans,squeals, clicks, and every other abominable noise that can be conceived,conveying to my mind a general idea of expostulation. At any rate thebaboons listened. One of them grunted back some answer, and then thewhole mob drew off to the rocks.

  I stood astonished, and without a word we turned back to the kraal, forHendrika was too close to allow me to speak. When we reached the dininghut Stella went in, followed by Hendrika. But Indaba-zimbi plucked me bythe sleeve, and I stopped outside.

  "Macumazahn," he said. "Baboon-woman--devil-woman. Be careful,Macumazahn. She loves that Star (the natives aptly enough called Stellathe Star), and is jealous. Be careful, Macumazahn, or the Star willset!"