The Angels Weep - Smith Wilbur (бесплатные онлайн книги читаем полные версии txt) 📗
"There is Nomusa," she whispered. "Nomusa, who is more than a mother and a sister to me. Nomusa who cut the chain that held me in the slave ship--" "Put those thoughts from your mind," counselled Tanase gently. "There is no place for them now. Tell us who else is at the Mission." "There is Elizabeth, my gentle sad Lizzie, and Bobby, who I carry upon my hip." "Who else?"Tanase insisted.
"There are no others, "Juba whispered. Bazo looked at his father.
"They are yours, all of them at Khami Mission. You know what must be done." Gandang nodded, and Bazo turned back to his mother. "Tell me, sweet little Mother." His voice sank to a soothing rumble. "Tell me about Bakela, the Fist, and his woman. What news do you have of him?" "Last week he was in the big house at King's Lynn, he and Balela, the One who brings Clear and Sunny Skies." Bazo turned to one of the other indunas who sat in the rank behind Gandang.
"Suku!" The and una rose on one knee. "Babo?" he asked.
"Bakela is yours, and his woman," Bazo told him. "And when you have done that work, go on to Hartley Hills and take the miners there, there are three men, and a woman with four whelps." "Nkosi Nkulu," the and una acknowledged the order, and no one queried or demurred when he called Bazo, "Nkosi Nkulu! King!" "Little Mother, where is Henshaw and his woman, who is the daughter of Nomusa?" "Nomusa had a letter from her, three days ago. She is at the railhead, she and the boy. She carries an infant, which will be born about the time of the Chauula festival. She wrote of her great joy and happiness." "And Henshaw?"
Bazo asked patiently. "What of Henshaw?" "In the letter she said he was with her, the source of her happiness. He may still be with her."
"They are mine," Bazo said.. "They and the five white men who are at the railhead. Afterwards we will sweep up the wagon road and take the two men and the woman and three children at Antelope Mine." He went on quietly allocating a task to each of his commanders, each farm and lonely mine was given to one of them with a recount al of the victims to be expected there, the telegraph lines were to be cut, the native police were to be executed, the drifts were to be guarded, all the wagon roads had to be swept for travellers, firearms collected, and livestock carried off and hidden. When he had finished, he turned to the women.
"Tanase, you will see to it that all our own women and children go into the ancient place of sanctuary, you yourself will lead them into the sacred hills of the Matopos. You will make certain that they stay in small groups, each well separated from the others, and the mujiba, the young boys not yet initiated, will watch from the hilltops against the coming of the white men. The women will have the potions and the muti ready for those of our men who are wounded." "Nkosi Nkulu," said Tanase after each instruction, and she watched his face, trying not to let her pride and her wild exultation show. "King!" she called him, as the other indunas had done.
Then the telling of it was over, and they waited for one thing more. The silence in the hut was strained and intense, the white of eyes gleaming in faces of polished ebony, as they waited, and at last Bazo spoke.
"By tradition, on the night of the Chaw aLa moon, the sons and daughters of Mashobane, of Mzilikazi, and of Lobengula, should celebrate the Festival of the First Fruits. This season there will be no cobs of corn to reap, for the locusts have reaped them for us. This season there will be no black bull for the young warriors to kill with their bare hands, for the rinderpest has done their work for them."
Bazo slowly looked about the circle of their faces.
"So on the night of this Chawala moon, let it begin. Let the storm rage. Let the eyes turn red. Let the young men of Matabele run!" "Jee!" hummed Suku in the second rank of indunas, and "Jee!" old Babiaan took up the war chant, and then they were all swaying together with their throats straining and their eyes bulging redly in the firelight with the divine fighting madness coming down upon them.
The ammunition was the most time-consuming of the stores to handle, and Ralph was limited to twenty trusted men to do the work for him.
There were 10,000 rounds in each iron case, with the W.D. and arrow impressed upon its lid. They were secured with a simple clip that could be knocked open with a rifle butt. The British army always learned its lesson the hard way. They had learned this one at isandhlwana, the Hill of the Little Hand, on the frontier of Zululand when Lord Chelmsford left 1,000 men at his base camp, while he took a flying column to bring the Zulu indunas to battle. Avoiding contact with the column, the indunas doubled back and stormed the base camp.
Only when the swarming imp is broke through the perimeter did the quartermasters realize that Chelmsford had taken the keys for the ammunition chests with him. Isazi, Ralph's little Zulu driver, had given him an eye-witness account of the end.
"They were tearing at the boxes with axes, with bayonets and with their bare hands. They were swearing and screaming with rage and chagrin when we brought the assegais to them, and at the last they tried to defend themselves with their empty rifles." Isazi's eyes had gone misty with the memory, the way an old man recalls a lost love. "I tell you, little Hawk, they were brave men and it was a beautiful stabbing." Nobody could be certain how many Englishmen had died at the Little Hand, for it was almost a year before Chelmsford retook the field, but it was one of the most terrible disasters of British military history, and immediately after it the War Office redesigned their ammunition chests.
Now the fact that the.303 ammunition was packed in these WD chests was some indication of how deep was the understanding between Mr. Rhodes and the colonial secretary in Whitehall. However, the bulk packets had to be broken down and repacked in waxed paper. One hundred rounds to the packet, then these had to be soldered into tin sheets before going into the oil drums. It was an onerous task and Ralph was pleased to escape for a few hours from the workshops of the De Beers Consolidated Mines Company where it was being done.
Aaron Fagan was waiting for him in his office, with his coat on and his Derby hat in his hand.
