In Desert and Wilderness/Part 2/Chapter 20
XX
Stas, after a brief rest under the ramparts of Luela, started with Kali before sunset at the head of three hundred warriors for Fumba's boma, for he wanted to attack the Samburus during the night, relying upon the fact that in the darkness the fiery snakes would create a greater sensation. The march from Luela to Mount Boko, on which Fumba was defending himself, counting the rests, required nine hours, so that they appeared before the fortress at about three o'clock in the morning. Stas halted the warriors and, having ordered them to preserve the deepest silence, began to survey the situation. The summit of the mountain on which the defenders had sought refuge was dark; on the other hand the Samburus burnt a multitude of camp-fires. Their glare illuminated the steep walls of the rock and the gigantic trees growing at its foot. From a distance came the hollow sounds of drums and the shouts and songs of warriors who evidently were not sparing in their indulgence of pombe,[1] desiring already to celebrate a near and decisive victory. Stas advanced at the head of his division still farther, so that finally not more than a hundred paces separated him from the last camp-fires. There were no signs of camp sentinels and the moonless night did not permit the savages to catch sight of the King who, besides, was screened by the underwood. Stas, sitting on his neck, quietly issued the final orders, after which he gave Kali the signal to light one of the sky-rockets. A red ribbon flew up, hissing, high in the dark sky, after which, with an explosive sound, it scattered into a bouquet of red, blue, and golden stars. All voices became hushed and a moment of gloomy silence ensued. A few seconds later two more fiery snakes flew out, as though with an infernal hiss, but this time they were aimed horizontally directly at the Samburu camp; simultaneously resounded the King's roar and the loud cries of the three hundred Wahimas who, armed with assagais,[2] maces, and knives, rushed ahead with irrepressible speed. A battle began, which was the more terrible because it took place in the darkness, as all the camp-fires in the confusion were at once trampled out. But, at the very beginning, blind terror at the sight of the fiery snakes seized the Samburus. What was happening passed entirely beyond their understanding. They only knew that they were attacked by some terrible beings and that horrible and unavoidable destruction threatened them. A greater part of them ran away before they could be reached by the spears and maces of the Wahimas. A hundred and a few tens of warriors, whom Mamba succeeded in rallying about him, offered stubborn resistance; when, however, in the flashes of the shots, they saw a gigantic beast and on him a person dressed in white, and when their ears were dinned with the reports of the weapon which Kali from time to time discharged, their hearts sank. Fumba on the mountain, seeing the first sky-rocket, which burst in the heights, fell on the ground from fright and lay as though dead for a few minutes. But, regaining consciousness, he imagined from the desperate yells of the warriors one thing, namely, that some kind of spirits were exterminating the Samburus below. Then the thought flashed through his mind that if he did not come to the aid of those spirits, he might incur their wrath, and as the extermination of the Samburus was his salvation, he mustered all his warriors about him and sallied forth from a secret side exit of the boma and cut off the road of a greater part of the fugitives. The battle now changed into a massacre. The Samburu drums ceased to beat. In the darkness, which was rent only by the red flashes cast by Kali's rifle, resounded the howls of the men being killed, the hollow blows of the maces against shields and the groans of the wounded. Nobody begged for mercy, for mercy is unknown to negroes. Kali, from a fear that in the darkness and confusion he might wound his own people, finally ceased to fire, and seizing Gebhr's sword rushed with it into the midst of the enemies. The Samburus could now flee from the mountains towards their frontiers only by way of one wide pass, but as Fumba blocked this pass with his warriors, out of the whole host only those were safe who, throwing themselves upon the ground, permitted themselves to be taken alive, though they knew that a cruel slavery awaited them, or even immediate death at the hands of the victors. Mamba defended himself heroically until a blow of a mace crushed his skull. His son, young Faru, fell into Fumba's hand, who ordered him bound, as a future sacrifice of gratitude to the spirits which had come to his assistance.
Stas did not drive the terrible King into the battle; he permitted him only to trumpet to increase the terror of the enemies. He himself did not fire a single shot from his rifle at the Samburus, for in the first place he had promised little Nell on leaving Luela that he would not kill any one, and again he actually had no desire to kill people who had done no harm to him or Nell. It was enough that he assured the Wahimas a victory and freed Fumba, who was besieged in a great boma. Soon, also, when Kali came running with news of a definite victory, he issued an order for the cessation of the battle, which raged yet in the underwood and rocky recesses and which was prolonged by the implacable hatred of old Fumba.
However, before Kali succeeded in quelling it, it was daylight. The sun, as is usual under the equator, rolled quickly from beyond the mountains, and flooded with a bright light the battle-field on which lay over two hundred Samburu corpses pierced by spears or crushed by maces. After a certain time, when the battle finally ceased and only the joyful yells of the Wahimas disturbed the morning's quiet, Kali again appeared, but with a face so dejected and sad that it could be perceived even from a distance that some kind of misfortune had overtaken him.
In fact, when he stood before Stas, he began to strike his head with his fists and exclaim sorrowfully:
"Oh, great master!—Fumba kufa! Fumba kufa!" (is slain).
"Slain?" Stas repeated.
Kali related what had happened, and from his words it appeared that the cause of the occurrence was only the inveterate hatred of Fumba, for after the battle had ceased, he still wanted to give the last blow to two Samburus, and from one of them he received the stroke of a spear.
The news spread among all the Wahimas in the twinkling of an eye and around Kali a mob gathered. A few moments later six warriors bore on spears the old king, who was not killed but fatally wounded. Before his death he desired to see the mighty master, the real conqueror of the Samburus, sitting on an elephant.
Accordingly uncommon admiration struggled in his eyes with the dusk with which death was dimming them, and his pale lips, stretched by "pelele," whispered lowly:
"Yancig! Yancig!"
But immediately after that his head reclined backward, his mouth opened wide—and he died.
Kali, who loved him, with tears threw himself upon his breast. Among the warriors some began to strike their heads, others to proclaim Kali king and to "yancig" in his honor. Some fell before the young ruler on their faces. No one raised a voice in opposition, as the right to rule belonged to Kali not only by law, as the oldest son of Fumba, but also as a conqueror.
In the meantime, in the huts of the fetish-men in the boma on the mountain-top, resounded the savage din of the wicked Mzimu, the same as Stas had heard in the first negro village, but this time it was not directed against him but was demanding the death of the prisoners for killing Fumba. The drums began to rumble. The warriors formed in a long host of three men in a row and commenced a war dance around Stas, Kali, and Fumba's corpse.
"Oa, Oa! Yach, yach!" all voices repeated; all heads nodded right and left in unison, the whites of their eyes glistened, and the sharp points of the spears twinkled in the morning sun.
Kali rose and turning to Stas, said:
"Great master, bring the 'bibi' to the boma and let her dwell in Fumba's hut. Kali is king of the Wahimas and the great master is Kali's king."
Stas nodded his head in sign of assent but remained a few hours, for he and the King were entitled to a rest.
He did not leave until towards the evening. During his absence the bodies of the slain Samburus were removed and thrown into a neighboring deep abyss, over which at once a swarm of vultures flocked; the fetish-men made preparations for Fumba's funeral and Kali assumed authority as the only master of the life and death of all his subjects.
"Do you know what Kali is?" Stas asked the little maid on the return journey from Luela.
Nell gazed at him with surprise.
"He is your boy."
"Aha! A boy! Kali is now king of all the Wahimas."
This news delighted Nell immensely. This sudden change, thanks to which the former slave of the cruel Gebhr, and later the humble servant of Stas, became a king, seemed to her something extraordinary and at the same time exceedingly amusing.
Nevertheless, Linde's remark that negroes were like children who were incapable of remembering what transpired the day before, did not appear just in its application to Kali, for as soon as Stas and Nell stopped at the foot of Mount Boko the young monarch hurried to meet them; he greeted them with the usual marks of humility and joy and repeated the words which he had previously uttered:
"Kali is the king of the Wahimas, and the great master is Kali's king."
And he surrounded both with an adoration almost divine and prostrated himself, particularly before Nell, in the presence of all the people, for he knew from experience, acquired during the journey, that the great master cared more for the little "bibi" than for himself.
Leading them solemnly to the capital boma on the summit he surrendered to them Fumba's hut, which resembled a great shed divided into several rooms. He ordered the Wahima women, who came with them from Luela, and who could not look enough at the "Good Mzimu," to place a utensil with honey and sour milk in the first room, and when he learned that the "bibi," tired by the journey, had fallen asleep, he commanded all the inhabitants to observe the deepest silence under the penalty of cutting out their tongues. But he decided to honor them still more solemnly, and with this in view, when Stas, after a brief rest, came out of the shed, he approached him and, prostrating himself, said:
"To-morrow Kali shall order Fumba to be buried and shall cause as many slaves to be cut down for Fumba and for Kali as both have fingers on their hands, but for the 'bibi' and for the great master, Kali shall order Faru, the son of Mamba, to be cut to pieces and 'wengi, wengi' of other Samburus who were captured by the Wahimas."
And Stas knitted his brows and began to gaze with his steely eyes into Kali's eyes; after which he answered:
"I forbid you to do that."
"Master," the young negro said in an uncertain voice, "the Wahimas always cut down slaves. The old king—dies cut them down; the young succeeds—cut them down. If Kali did not command them to be cut down, the Wahimas would think that Kali is not king."
Stas looked more and more sternly:
"What of it?" he asked. "Did you not learn anything on Mount Linde, and are you not a Christian?"
"I am, oh, great master!"
"Listen, then! The Wahimas have black brains, but your brains ought to be white. You, as soon as you became their king, should enlighten them and teach them what you learned from me and from the 'bibi' They are like jackals and like hyenas—make men of them. Tell them it is not allowable to cut down captives, for the Great Spirit to whom I and the 'bibi' pray avenges the blood of the defenseless. The white people do not murder slaves, and you want to be worse to them than Gebhr was to you—you, a Christian! Shame on you, Kali. Change the ancient and abominable customs of the Wahimas for good ones and God will bless you for this and the 'bibi' will not say that Kali is a savage, stupid, bad negro."
A horrible din in the huts of the fetish-men deafened his words. Stas waved his hand and continued:
"I hear! That is your wicked Mzimu, which wants the blood and heads of the captives. But you, of course, know what that means and it will not frighten you. Well, I say this to you: take a bamboo stick, go to each hut and thrash the hides of the fetish-men until they begin to roar louder than their drums. Cast out the drums into the middle of the boma, in order that all the Wahimas may see and understand how these knaves have deceived them. Tell your foolish Wahimas, at the same time, that which you yourself announced to M'Rua's people, that wherever the 'Good Mzimu' sojourns no human blood can be shed."
Stas' words evidently persuaded the young king, as he glanced at him boldly and said:
"Kali will beat, oh, beat the fetish-men; throw out the drums and tell the Wahimas that there where the 'Good Mzimu' is it is not allowable to kill anyone. But what shall Kali do with Faru and with the Samburus who killed Fumba?"
Stas, who already had formed his plans for everything and who only waited for this question, answered at once:
"Your father perished and his father perished, therefore it is a head for a head. You shall conclude a blood alliance with Faru, after which the Wahimas and Samburus shall dwell in harmony; they shall peacefully cultivate manioc, and hunt. You shall tell Faru of the Great Spirit, who is the Father of all white and black people, and Faru shall love you like a brother."
"Kali now has a white brain," answered the young negro.
And with this the conversation ended. A while later again resounded wild roars; this time they were not the roars of the wicked Mzimu but only of both fetish-men, whom Kali cudgelled with all his might and main. The warriors, who below continually surrounded the King in a compact circle, came running up as fast as their legs could carry them to see what was happening, and soon became convinced with their own eyes and from the confessions of the fetish-men that the bad Mzimu before which heretofore they trembled was only a hollowed-out trunk with monkey skin stretched over it.
And young Faru, when he was informed that in honor of the "Good Mzimu" and the great master his head would not be dashed to pieces, but that Kali was to eat a piece of him and he a piece of Kali, could hardly believe his ears, and on learning to whom he was indebted for his life, lay on his face on the ground before the entrance to Fumba's hut, and remained there until Nell came out and ordered him to rise. Then he embraced with his black hands her little foot and placed it on his head in sign that through his entire life he desired to remain her slave.
The Wahimas were greatly astonished at the commands of the young king, but the presence of the unknown guests whom they regarded as the most powerful sorcerers in the world had the effect of disarming all opposition. The older people, however, were displeased with the new customs, and both fetish-men, understanding that their prosperous days were forever over, swore in their souls a terrible revenge against the king and the new arrivals.
In the meantime they buried Fumba with great solemnity at the foot of the rock below the boma. Kali placed above his grave a cross made of bamboo, while the negroes left a few utensils with pombe and smoked meat "in order that he should not annoy and haunt them during the night-time."
Mamba's body, after the conclusion of the blood brotherhood between Kali and Faru, was surrendered to the Samburus.