Alexandre Dumas - "Le Capitaine Arena"

Theodor Mommsen - "Römische Geschichte Book 5"

Pierce Egan - "Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II."

Amanda Minnie Douglas - "A Little Girl in Old Detroit"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

The Ghost Kings

H >> H. Rider Haggard >> The Ghost Kings




"Thank you very much," said Rachel. "But I am not afraid of the Zulus. I
do not think that they will hurt me."

"Not hurt you! Not hurt you! White and beautiful as you are. Why not?"

"Oh! I don't know," she replied with a laugh, "but you see I am called
Inkosazana-y-Zoola. They won't touch one with that name."

"Inkosazana-y-Zoola," he repeated astonished. "Why she is their Spirit,
yes, and I remember--white like you, so they say. How did you get that
name? But mount, mount! They will kill you first, and ask how you were
called afterwards. Your father is much afraid."

"My mother would not be afraid; she knows," muttered Rachel to herself, as
she sprang to the saddle of the led-horse.

Then, without more words, they began to gallop back towards the camp.
Before they reached the crest of the second rise the sun shone out in
earnest, thinning the seaward mist, although between them and the camp it
still hung thick. Then suddenly in the fog-edge Rachel saw this sight:
Towards them ran a delicately shaped and beautiful native girl, naked
except for her moocha, and of a very light, copper-colour, whilst after
her, brandishing an assegai, came a Zulu warrior. Evidently the girl was
in the last stage of exhaustion; indeed she reeled over the ground, her
tongue protruded from her lips and her eyes seemed to be starting from her
head.

"Come on," shouted the man called Ishmael. "It is only one of the
fugitives whom they are killing."

But Rachel did nothing of the sort; she pulled up her horse and waited.
The girl caught sight of her and with a wild hoarse scream, redoubled her
efforts, so that her pursuer, who had been quite close, was left behind.
She reached Rachel and flung her arms about her legs gasping:

"Save me, white lady, save me!"

"Shoot her if she won't leave go," shouted Ishmael, "and come on."

But Rachel only sprang from the horse and stood face to face with the
advancing Zulu.

"Stand," she said, and the man stopped.

"Now," she asked, "what do you want with this woman?"

"To take her or to kill her," gasped the soldier.

"By whose order?"

"By order of Dingaan the King,"

"For what crime?"

"Witchcraft; but who are you who question me, white woman?"

"One whom you must obey," answered Rachel proudly. "Go back and leave the
girl. She is mine."

The man stared at her, then laughed aloud and began to advance again.

"Go back," repeated Rachel.

He took no heed but still came on.

"Go back or die," she said for the third time.

"I shall certainly die if I go back to Dingaan without the girl," replied
the soldier who was a bold-looking savage. "Now you, Noie, will you return
with me or shall I kill you? Say, witch," and he lifted his assegai.

The girl sank in a heap upon the veld. "Kill," she murmured faintly, "I
will not go back. I did not bewitch him to make him dream of me, and I
will be Death's wife, not his; a ghost in his kraal, not a woman."

"Good," said the man, "I will carry your word to the king. Farewell,
Noie," and he raised the assegai still higher, adding: "Stand aside, white
woman, for I have no order to kill you also."

By way of answer Rachel put the gun to her shoulder and pointed it at him.

"Are you mad?" shouted Ishmael. "If you touch him they will murder every
one of us. Are you mad?"

"Are you a coward?" she asked quietly, without taking her eyes off the
soldier. Then she said in Zulu, "Listen. The land on this side of the
Tugela has been given by Dingaan to the English. Here he has no right to
kill. This girl is mine, not his. Come one step nearer and you die."

"We shall soon see who will die," answered the warrior with a laugh, and
he sprang forward.

They were his last words. Rachel aimed and pressed the trigger, the gun
exploded heavily in the mist; the Zulu leapt into the air and fell upon
his back, dead. The white man, Ishmael, rode to them, pulled up his horse
and sat still, staring. It was a strange picture in that lonely, silent
spot. The soldier so very still and dead, his face hidden by the shield
that had fallen across it; the tall, white girl, rigid as a statue, in
whose hand the gun still smoked, the delicate, fragile Kaffir maiden
kneeling on the veld, and looking at her wildly as though she were a
spirit, and the two horses, one with its ears pricked in curiosity, and
the other already cropping grass.

"My God! What have you done?" exclaimed Ishmael.

"Justice," answered Rachel.

"Then your blood be on your own head. I am not going to stop here to have
my throat cut."

"Don't," answered Rachel. "I have a better guardian than you, and will
look after my own blood."

To this speech the white man seemed to be able to find no answer. Turning
his horse he galloped off swearing, but not towards the camp, whereon the
other horse galloped after him, and presently they all vanished in the
mist, leaving the two women alone.

At this moment from the direction of the waggon they heard the sound of
shouting and of screams, which appeared to come from the valley between
them and it.

"The king's men are killing my people," muttered the girl Noie. "Go, or
they will kill you too."

Rachel thought a moment. Evidently it was impossible to get through to the
camp; indeed, even had they tried to do so on the horses they would have
been cut off. An idea came to her. They stood upon the edge of a steep,
bush-clothed kloof, where in the wet season a stream ran down to the sea.
This stream was now represented by a chain of deep and muddy pools, one of
which pools lay directly underneath them.

"Help me to throw him into the water," said Rachel.

The girl understood, and with desperate energy they seized the dead
soldier, dragged him to the edge of the little cliff and thrust him over.
He fell with a heavy splash into the pool and vanished.

"Crocodiles live there," said Rachel, "I saw one as I passed. Now take the
shield and spear and follow me."

She obeyed, for with hope her strength seemed, to have returned to her,
and the two of them scrambled down the cliffs into the kloof. As they
reached the edge of the pool they saw great snouts and a disturbance in
the water. Rachel was right, crocodiles lived there.

"Now," she said, "throw your moocha on that rock. They will find it and
think----"

Noie nodded and did so, rending its fastening and wetting it in the water.
Then quite naked she took Rachel's hand and swiftly, swiftly, the two of
them leapt from stone to stone, so as to leave no footprints, heading for
the sea. Only the fugitive stopped once to drink of the fresh water, for
she was perishing with thirst. Now when Rachel was bathing she had
observed upon the farther side of her pool and opening out of it, as it
were, a little pocket in the rock, where the water was not more than three
feet deep and covered by a dense growth of beautiful seaweed, some black
and some ribbon-like and yellow. The pool was long, perhaps two hundred
paces in all, and to go round it they would be obliged to expose
themselves upon the sand, and thus become visible from a long way off.

"Can you swim?" said Rachel to Noie.

Again she nodded, and the two of them slipped into the water and swam
across the pool till they reached the pocket-like place, on the edge of
which they sat down, covering themselves with the seaweed.

They had not been there five minutes when they heard the sound of voices
drawing near down the kloof, and at once slid into the water, covering
themselves in it in such fashion that only their heads remained above the
surface, mixed with the black and yellow seaweed, so that without close
search none could have said which was hair and which was weed.

"The Zulus," said Noie, shivering so that the water shook about her, "they
seek me."

"Lie still, then," answered Rachel. "I can't shoot now, the gun is wet."

The voices died away, and the two girls thought that the speakers had
gone, but rendered cautious, still remained hidden in the water. It was
well for them that they did so for presently they heard the voices again
and much nearer. The Zulus were walking round the pool. Two of them came
quite close to their little hiding-place, and sat down on some rocks to
rest, and talk. Peeping through her covering of seaweed Rachel could see
them, great men who held red spears in their hands.

"You are a fool," said one of them to the other, "and have given us this
walk for nothing, as though our feet were not sore enough already. The
crocodiles have that Noie, her witchcraft could not save her from them; it
was a baboon's spoor you saw in the mud, not a woman's."

"It would seem so, brother," answered the other, "as we found the moocha.
Still, if so, where is Bomba who was running her down? And what made that
blood-mark on the grass?"

"Doubtless," replied the first man, "Bomba came up with her there and
wounded her, whereon being a woman and a coward, she ran from him and
jumped into the pool in which the crocodiles finished her. As for Bomba, I
expect that he has gone back to Zululand, or is asleep somewhere resting.
The other spoor we saw was that of a white woman, who puts skins upon her
feet. There is a camp of them up yonder, but you remember, our orders were
not to touch any of the people of George, so we need not trouble about
them."

"Well, brother, if you are sure, we had better be starting back, lest
there should be trouble with the white people. Dingaan will be satisfied
when we show him the moocha, and sleep in peace henceforth. She must
really have been _tagati_ (uncanny), that little Noie, for otherwise,
although it is true she was pretty, why should Dingaan who has all
Zululand to choose from, have fallen in love with her, and why should she
have refused to enter his house, and persuaded all her kraal to run away?
For my part, I don't believe that she is dead now, notwithstanding the
moocha. I think that she is a witch, and has changed into something
else--a bird or a snake, perhaps. Well, the rest of them will never change
into anything, except black mould. Let us see. We have killed every one;
all the common people, the mother of Noie, the dwarf-wizard Seyapi her
father, and her other mothers, four of them, and her brothers and sisters,
twelve in all."

At these words Noie again trembled beneath her seaweed, so that the water
shook all about her.

"There is a fish there," said the first Kaffir, "I saw it rise. It is a
small pool, shall we try to catch it?"

"No, brother," answered the other, "only coast people eat fish. I am
hungry, but I will wait for man's food. Take that, fish!" and he threw a
stone into the pool which struck Rachel on the side, and caused her fair
hair to float about among the yellow seaweed.

Then the two of them got up and went away, walking arm-in-arm like friends
and amiable men, as they were in their own fashion.

For a long time the girls remained beneath their seaweed, fearing lest the
men or others should return, until at length they could bear the cold of
the water no longer, and crept out of it to the brink of the little pool,
where, still wreathed in seaweed, they sat and warmed themselves in the
hot sunlight. Now Noie seemed to be half dead; indeed Rachel thought that
she would die.

"Awake," she said, "life is still before you."

"Would that it were behind me, Lady," moaned the poor girl. "You
understand our tongue--did you not hear? My father, my own mother, my
other mothers, my brothers and sisters, all killed, all killed for my
sake, and I left living. Oh! you meant kindly, but why did you not let
Bomba pass his spear through me? It would have been quickly over, and now
I should sleep with the rest."

Rachel made no answer, for she saw that talking was useless in such a
case. Only she took Noie's hand and pressed it in silent sympathy, until
at length the poor girl, utterly outworn with agony and the fatigue of her
long flight, fell asleep, there in the sunshine. Rachel let her sleep,
knowing that she would take no harm in that warmth. Quietly she sat at her
side for hour after hour while the fierce sun, from which she protected
her head with seaweed, dried her garments. At length the shadows told her
that midday was past, and the sea water which began to trickle over the
surrounding rocks that the tide was approaching its full. They could stop
there no longer unless they wished to be drowned.

"Come," she said to Noie, "the Zulus have gone, and the sea is here. We
must swim to the shore and go back to my father's camp."

"What place have I in your kraal, Lady?" asked the girl when her senses
had returned to her.

"I will find you a place," Rachel answered; "you are mine now."

"Yes, Lady, that is true," said Noie heavily, "I am yours and no one
else's," and taking Rachel's hand she pressed it to her forehead.

Then together once more they swam the pool, and not too soon, for the tide
was pouring into it. Reaching the shore in safety, no easy task for
Rachel, who must hold the heavy gun above her head, Noie tied Rachel's
towel about her middle to take the place of her moocha, and very
cautiously they crept up the kloof, fearing lest some of the Zulus might
still be lurking in the neighbourhood.

At length they came to the pool into which they had thrown the soldier
Bomba, and saw two crocodiles doubtless those that had eaten him, lying
asleep in the sun upon flat rocks at its edge. Here they were obliged to
leave the kloof both because they feared to pass the crocodiles, and for
the reason that their road to the camp ran another way. So they climbed up
the cliff and looked about, but could see only a pair of oribe bucks, one
lying down under a tree, and one eating grass quite close to its mate.

"The Zulus have gone or there would be no buck here," said Rachel. "Come,
now, hold the shield before you and the spear in your hand, to hide that
you are a woman, and let us go on boldly."

So they went till they reached the crest of the next rise, and then sprang
back behind it, for lying here and there they saw people who seemed to be
asleep.

"The Zulus resting!" exclaimed Rachel.

"Nay," answered the girl with a sigh. "My people, dead! See the vultures
gathered round them."

Rachel looked again, and saw that it was so. Without a word they walked
forward, and as they passed each body Noie gave it its name. Here lay a
brother, there a sister, yonder four folk of her father's kraal. They came
to a tall and handsome woman of middle age, and she shivered as she had
done in the pool and said in an icy voice:

"The mother who bore me!"

A few more steps and in a patch of high grass that grew round an ant-heap,
they found two Zulu soldiers, each pierced through with a spear. Seated
against the ant-heap also, as though he were but resting, was a
light-coloured man, a dwarf in stature, spare of frame, and with sharp
features. His dress, if he wore any, seemed to have been removed from him,
for he was almost naked, and Rachel noticed that no wound could be seen on
him.

"Behold my father!" said Noie in the same icy voice.

"But," whispered Rachel, "he only sleeps. No spear has touched him."

"Not so, he is dead, dead by the White Death after the fashion of his
people."

Now Rachel wondered what this White Death might be, and of which people
the man was one. That he was not a Zulu who had been stunted in his growth
she could see for herself, nor had she ever met a native who at all
resembled him. Still she could ask no questions at that time; the thing
was too awful. Moreover Noie had knelt down before the body, and with her
arms thrown around its neck, was whispering into its ear. For a full
minute she whispered thus, then set her own ear to the cold stirless lips,
and for another minute or more, seemed to listen intently, nodding her
head from time to time. Never before had Rachel witnessed anything so
uncanny, and oddly enough, the fact that this scene was enacted in the
bright sunlight added to its terrors. She stood paralysed, forgetting the
Zulus, forgetting everything except that to all appearance the living was
holding converse with the dead.

At length Noie rose, and turning to her companion said:

"My Spirit has been good to me; I thank my Spirit, which brought me here
before it was too late for us to talk together. Now I have the message."

"The message! Oh! what message?" gasped Rachel.

An inscrutable look gathered on the face of the beautiful native girl.

"It is to me alone," she answered, "but this I may say, much of it was of
you, Inkosazana-y-Zoola."

"Who told you that was my native name?" asked Rachel, springing back.

"It was in the message, O thou before whom kings shall bow."

"Nonsense," exclaimed Rachel, "you have heard it from our people."

"So be it, Lady; I have heard it from your people whom I have never seen.
Now let us go, your father is troubled for you."

Again Rachel looked at her sideways, and Noie went on:

"Lady, from henceforth I am your servant, am I not? and that service will
not be light."

"She thinks I shall make her dig," thought Rachel to herself, as the girl
continued in her low, soft voice:

"Now I ask you one thing--when I tell you my story, let it be for your
breast alone. Say only that I am a common girl whom you saved from the
soldier."

"Why not?" answered Rachel. "That is all I have to tell."

Then once more they went on, Rachel wondering if she dreamed, the girl
Noie walking at her side, stern and cold-faced as a statue.



CHAPTER VI

THE CASTING OF THE LOTS


They reached the crest of the last rise, and there, facing them on the
slope of the opposite wave of land, stood the waggon, surrounded by the
thorn fence, within which the cattle and horses were still enclosed,
doubtless for fear of the Zulus. Nothing could be more peaceful than the
aspect of that camp. To look at it no one would have believed that within
a few hundred yards a hideous massacre had just taken place. Presently,
however, voices began to shout, and heads to bob up over the fence. Then
it occurred to Rachel that they must think she was a prisoner in the
charge of a Zulu, and she told Noie to lower the shield which she still
held in front of her. The next instant some thorns were torn out, and her
father, a gun in his hand, appeared striding towards them.

"Thank God that you are safe," he said as they met. "I have suffered great
anxiety, although I hoped that the white man Israel--no, Ishmael--had
rescued you. He came here to warn us," he added in explanation, "very
early this morning, then galloped off to find you. Indeed his after-rider,
whose horse he took, is still here. Where on earth have you been, Rachel,
and"--suddenly becoming aware of Noie, who, arrayed only in a towel, a
shield, and a stabbing spear, presented a curious if an impressive
spectacle--"who is this young person?"

"She is a native girl I saved from the massacre," replied Rachel,
answering the last question first. "It is a long story, but I shot the man
who was going to kill her, and we hid in a pool. Are you all safe, and
where is mother?"

"Shot the man! Shed human blood! Hid in a pool!" ejaculated Mr. Dove,
overcome. "Really, Rachel, you are a most trying daughter. Why should you
go out before daybreak and do such things?"

"I don't know, I am sure, father; predestination, I suppose--to save her
life, you know."

Again he contemplated the beautiful Noie, then, murmuring something about
a blanket, ran back to the camp. By this time Mrs. Dove had climbed out of
the waggon, and arrived with the Kaffirs.

"I knew you would be safe, Rachel," she said in her gentle voice, "because
nothing can hurt you. Still you do upset your poor father dreadfully,
and--what are you going to do with that naked young woman?"

"Give her something to eat, dear," answered Rachel. "Don't ask me any more
questions now. We have been sitting up to our necks in water for hours,
and are starved and frozen, to say nothing of worse things."

At this moment Mr. Dove arrived with a blanket, which he offered to Noie,
who took it from him and threw it round her body. Then they went into the
camp, where Rachel changed her damp clothes, whilst Noie sat by her in a
corner of the tent. Presently, too, food was brought, and Rachel ate
hungrily, forcing Noie to do the same. Then she went out, leaving the girl
to rest in the tent, and with certain omissions, such as the conduct of
Noie when she found her dead father, told all the story which, wild as
were the times and strange as were the things that happened in them, they
found wonderful enough.

When she had done Mr. Dove knelt down and offered up thanks for his
daughter's preservation through great danger, and with them prayers that
she might be forgiven for having shot the Zulu, a deed that, except for
the physical horror of it, did not weigh upon Rachel's mind.

"You know, father, you would have done the same yourself," she explained,
"and so would mother there, if she could hold a gun, so what is the good
of pretending that it is a sin? Also no one saw it except that white man
and the crocodiles which buried the body, so the less we say about the
matter the better it will be for all of us."

"I admit," answered Mr. Dove, "that the circumstances justified the deed,
though I fear that the truth will out, since blood calls for blood. But
what are we to do with the girl? They will come to seek her and kill us
all."

"They will not seek, father, because they think that she is dead, and will
never know otherwise unless that white man tells them, which he will
scarcely do, as the Zulus would think that he shot the soldier, not I. She
has been sent to us, and it is our duty to keep her."

"I suppose so," said her father doubtfully. "Poor thing! Truly she has
cause for gratitude to Providence: all her relations killed by those
bloodthirsty savages, and she saved!"

"If all of you were killed and I were saved, I do not know that I should
feel particularly grateful," answered Rachel. "But it is no use arguing
about such things, so let us be thankful that we are not killed too. Now I
am tired out, and going to lie down, for of course we can't leave this
place at present, unless we trek back to Durban."

Such was the finding of Noie.

* * * * *

When Rachel awoke from the sleep into which she had fallen, sunset was
near at hand. She left the tent where Noie still lay slumbering or lost in
stupor, to find that only her mother and Ishmael's after-rider remained in
the camp, her father having gone out with the Kaffirs, in order to bury as
many of the dead as possible before night came, and with it the jackals
and hyenas. Rachel made up the fire and set to work with her mother's help
to cook their evening meal. Whilst they were thus engaged her quick ears
caught the sound of horses' hoofs, and she looked up to perceive the white
man, Ishmael, still leading the spare horse on which she had ridden that
morning. He had halted on the crest of ground where she had first seen him
upon the previous day, and was peering at the camp, with the object
apparently of ascertaining whether its occupants were still alive.

"I will go and ask him in," said Rachel, who, for reasons of her own,
wished to have a word or two with the man.

Presently she came up to him, and saw at once that he seemed to be very
much ashamed of himself.

"Well," she said cheerfully, "you see here I am, safe enough, and I am
glad that you are the same."

"You are a wonderful woman," he replied, letting his eyes sink before her
clear gaze, "as wonderful as you are beautiful."

"No compliments, please," said Rachel, "they are out of place in this
savage land."

"I beg your pardon, I could not help speaking the truth. Did they kill the
girl and let you go?"

"No, I managed to hide up with her; she is here now."

"That is very dangerous, Miss Dove. I know all about it; it is she whom
Dingaan was after. When he hears that you have sheltered her he will send
and kill you all. Take my advice and turn her out at once. I say it is
most dangerous."

"Perhaps," answered Rachel calmly, "but all the same I shall do nothing of
the sort unless she wishes to go, nor do I think that my father will
either. Now please listen a minute. If this story comes to the ears of the
Zulus--and I do not see why it should, as the crocodiles have eaten that
soldier--who will they think shot him, I or the white man who was with me?
Do you understand?"

"I understand and shall hold my tongue, for your sake."

"No, for your own. Well, by way of making the bargain fair, for my part I
shall say as little as possible of how we separated this morning. Not that
I blame you for riding off and leaving an obstinate young woman whom you
did not know to take her chance. Still, other people might think
differently."

"Yes," he answered, "they might, and I admit that I am ashamed of myself.
But you don't know the Zulus as I do, and I thought that they would be all
on us in a moment; also I was mad with you and lost my nerve. Really I am
very sorry."

"Please don't apologise. It was quite natural, and what is more, all for
the best. If we had gone on we should have ridden right into them, and
perhaps never ridden out again. Now here comes my father; we have agreed
that you will not say too much about this girl, have we not?"

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