Smith and the Pharaohs, and other Tales Part 16

"A bishop----"

"I mean a dean, or an archdeacon, or something!" she went on confusedly.

"No, Dorcas, they have not. I could scarcely expect promotion as yet, though it is true that I thought--but never mind, others no doubt have better claims and longer service. I have, however, been honoured with a most responsible duty."

"Indeed, dear. What duty?"

"I have been nominated priest-in-charge of the Sisa Station."

"O-oh! and where is that? Is it anywhere near Durban, or perhaps Maritzburg?"

"I don't exactly know at present, though I understand that it is about six days' trek from Eshowe in Zululand, but over the border in Portuguese territory. Indeed, I am not sure that one can trek all the way, at least when the rivers are in flood. Then it is necessary to cross one of them in a basket slung upon a rope, or if the river is not too full, in a punt. At this season the basket is most used."

"Great Heavens, Thomas! do you propose to put me and Tabbie in a basket, like St. Paul, and did you remember that we have just taken on this house for another year?"

"Of course I do. The families of missionaries must expect to face hards.h.i.+ps, from which it is true circ.u.mstances have relieved you up to the present. It is therefore only right that they should begin now, when Tabitha has become as strong as any child of her age that I know. As for the house, I had forgotten all about it. It must be relet, or failing that we must bear the loss, which fortunately we can well afford."

Dorcas looked at him and said nothing because words failed her, so he went on hurriedly.

"By the way, love, I have taken a slight liberty with your name. It appears that the church at Sisa, which I understand was quite a nice one built with subscriptions obtained in England by one of my predecessors who chanced to have influence or connections at home, has been recently burnt down together with the mission-house. Now the house can wait, since, of course, we can make s.h.i.+ft for a year or two in some native huts, but obviously we must have a church, and as the Society is overdrawn it cannot help in the matter. Under these circ.u.mstances I ventured to promise a gift of 1,000 pounds, which it is estimated will cover the re-erection of both church and house."

He paused awaiting a reply, but as Dorcas still said nothing, continued.

"You will remember that you told me quite recently that you found you had 1,500 pounds to your credit, therefore I felt quite sure that you would not grudge 1,000 pounds of it to enable me to fulfil this duty--this semi-divine duty."

"Oh!" said Dorcas. "As a matter of fact I intended to spend that 1,000 pounds, or much of it, otherwise. There are some people here whom I wanted to help, but fortunately I had not mentioned this to them, so they will have to do without the money and their holiday; also the children cannot be sent to school. And, by the way, how is Tabbie to be educated in this far-away place?"

"I am sorry, dear, but after all private luxuries, including that of benevolence, must give way to sacred needs, so I will write to the Dean that the money will be forthcoming when it is needed. As for Tabitha's education, of course we will undertake it between us, at any rate for the next few years."

"Yes, Thomas, since you have pa.s.sed your word, or rather my word, the money will be forthcoming. But meanwhile, if you can spare me the odd 500 pounds, I suggest that I should stay here with Tabbie, who could continue to attend the college as a day-scholar, while you get us some place ready to live in among these savages, the Sneezers, or whatever they are called."

"My dear," answered Thomas, "consider what you ask. You are in perfect health and so is our child. Would it not, then, be a downright scandal that you should stop here in luxury while your husband went out to confront grave difficulties among the Sisas--not the Sneezers--for I may tell you at once that the difficulties are very grave? There is a noted witch-doctor amongst this people named Menzi, who, I understand, is suspected of having burned down the mission-house, and probably the church also, because he said that it was ridiculous that an unmarried man like the late priest should have so large a dwelling to live alone.

This, of course, was but a cunning excuse for his savage malevolence, but if another apparent celibate arrives, he might repeat the argument and its application. Also often these barbarians consider that a man who is not married _must_ be insane! Therefore it is absolutely necessary that you and the child should be present with me from the first."

"Oh! is it?" said Dorcas, turning very pink. "Well, I am sorry to say that just now it is absolutely necessary that I should be absent from you, since I have a tennis party this afternoon--the officers of the garrison are coming and about half a dozen girls--and I must go to arrange about the tea."

"A tennis party! A tennis party to those G.o.dless officers and probably equally G.o.dless girls," exclaimed her husband. "I am ashamed of you, Dorcas, you should be occupied with higher things."

Then at last the worm turned.

"Do you know, Thomas," she answered, springing up, "that I am inclined to be ashamed of you too, who I think should be occupied in keeping your temper. You have accepted some strange mission without consulting me, you have promised 1,000 pounds of my money without consulting me, and now you scold me because I have a few young people to play tennis and stop to supper. It is unchristian, it is uncharitable, it is--too bad!"

and sitting down again she burst into tears.

The Rev. Thomas who by now was in a really regal rage, not knowing what to say or do, glared about him. By ill-luck his eye fell upon a box of cigarettes that stood upon the mantelpiece.

"What are those things doing here?" he asked. "I do not smoke, so they cannot be for me. Is our money--I beg pardon--your money which is so much needed in other directions to be wasted in providing such unnecessaries--for officers and--idle girls? Oh--bless it all," and seizing the offending cigarettes he hurled them through the open window, a scattered shower of white tubes which some Kaffirs outside instantly proceeded to collect.

Then he rushed from the house, and Dorcas went to get ready for her party. But first she sent a servant to buy another box of cigarettes. It was her first act of rebellion against the iron rule of the Rev. Thomas Bull.

III

In the end, as may be guessed, Dorcas, who was a good and faithful little soul, accompanied her husband to the Sisa country. Tabitha went also, rejoicing, having learned that in this happy land there was no school. Dorcas found the journey awful, but really, had she but known it, it was most fortunate, indeed ideal. Her husband, who was a little anxious on the point, had made the best arrangements that were possible on such an expedition.

The wagon in which they trekked was good and comfortable, and although it was still the rainy season, fortune favoured them in the matter of weather, so that when they came to the formidable river, they were actually able to trek across it with the help of some oxen borrowed from a missionary in that neighbourhood, without having recourse to the dreaded rope-slung basket, or even to the punt.

Beyond the river they were met by some Christian Kaffirs of the Sisa tribe, who were sent by the Chief Kosa to guide them through the hundred miles or so of difficult country which still lay between them and their goal. These men were pleasant-spoken but rather depressed folk, clad in much-worn European clothes that somehow became them very ill. They gave a melancholy account of the spiritual condition of the Sisas, who since the death of their last pastor, they said, were relapsing rapidly into heathenism under the pernicious influence of Menzi, the witch-doctor.

Therefore Kosa sent his greetings and prayed the new Teacher to hurry to their aid and put a stop to this state of things.

"Fear nothing," said Thomas in a loud voice, speaking in Zulu, which by now he knew very well. "I _will_ put a stop to it."

Then they asked him his name. He replied that it was Thomas Bull, which after the native fas.h.i.+on, having found out what bull meant in English, they translated into a long appellation which, strictly rendered, meant _Roaring-Leader-of-the-holy-Herd_. When he found this out, Thomas flatly declined any such unchristian t.i.tle, with the result that, anxious to oblige, they christened him "Tombool," and as "Tombool" thenceforward he was known. (Dorcas objected to this name, but Tabitha remarked sagely that at any rate it was better than "Tomfool.")

This was to his face, but behind his back they called him _Inkunzi_, which means bull, and in order to keep up the idea, designated poor Dorcas _Isidanda_, that being interpreted signified a gentle-natured cow. To Tabitha they gave a prettier name, calling her _Imba_ or Little Flower.

At first Dorcas was quite pleased with her t.i.tle, which sounded nice, but when she came to learn what it meant it was otherwise.

"How can you expect me, Thomas, to live among a people who call me 'a mild cow'?" she asked indignantly.

"Never mind, my dear," he answered. "In their symbolical way they are only signifying that you will feed them with the milk of human kindness," a reply which did not soothe her at all. In fact, of the three the child alone was pleased, because she said that "Opening Flower" was a prettier name than Tabbie, which reminded her of cats.

Thenceforward, following a track, for it could not be called a road, they advanced slowly, first over a mountain pa.s.s on the farther side of which the wagon nearly upset, and then across a great bush-clad plain where there was much game and the lions roared round them at night, necessitating great fires to frighten them away. These lions terrified Dorcas, a town-bred woman who had never seen one of them except in the Zoo, so much that she could scarcely sleep, but oddly enough Tabitha was not disturbed by them.

"G.o.d will not let us be eaten by a lion, will He, Father?" she asked in her simple faith.

"Certainly not," he answered, "and if the brute tries to do so I shall shoot it."

"I'd rather trust to G.o.d, Father, because you know you can never hit anything," replied Tabitha.

Fortunately, however, it never became necessary for Thomas to show his skill as a marksman, for when they got through the bushveld there were no more lions.

On the fourth day after they left the river they found themselves upon gentle sloping veld that by degrees led them upwards to high land where it was cold and healthy and there were no mosquitoes. For two days they trekked over these high lands, which seemed to be quite uninhabited save by herds of feeding buck, till at length they attained their crest, and below them saw a beautiful mimosa-clad plain which the guides told them was the Sisa Country.

"The Promised Land at last! It makes me feel like another Moses," said Thomas, waving his arm.

"Oh, isn't it lovely!" exclaimed Tabitha.

"Yes, dear," answered her mother, "but--but I don't see any town."

This indeed was the case because there was none, the Sisa kraal, for it could not be dignified by any other name, being round a projecting ridge and out of sight. For the rest the prospect was very fair, being park-like in character, with dotted clumps of trees among which ran, or rather wound, a silver stream that seemed to issue from between two rocky koppies in the distance.

These koppies, the guides told them, were the gates of Sisa Town. They neglected to add that it lay in a hot and unhealthy hill-ringed hollow beyond them, the site having originally been chosen because it was difficult to attack, being only approachable through certain pa.s.ses.

Therefore it was a very suitable place in which to kraal the cattle of the Zulu kings in times of danger. That day they travelled down the declivity into the plain, where they camped. By the following afternoon they came to the koppies through which the river ran, and asked its name. The answer was _Ukufa_.

"_Ukufa?_" said Thomas. "Why, that means Death."

"Yes," was the reply, "because in the old days this river was the River of Death where evil-doers were sent to be slain."