The Ruined Cities of Zululand

Gorongoza

“I think,” said Hughes, as the two sat outside the small tent, pitched by the side of the stream, the morning after their return from Sofala,—“I think we had better remain here for a time.”

“I agree with you; and as there is no one to say us No, let it be decided in the affirmative. There are large quantities of wild ducks, and our fellows are so expert in finding their eggs, that the great change to men who have lived so long on nothing but venison must be beneficial.”

“We have plenty of fruit, too, and the ground-nuts are not to be despised. These cool streams, which seem to take their rise in yonder mountains, are another inducement. Our lines are at present cast in pleasant places, and what lies beyond seems uncertain. Let us profit by the present.”

“I want to go over all our baggage, and put our fellows in light marching order. To look at our little camp now, without waggon or horses, without cattle, and our numbers so reduced, we seem to resemble one of the parties so well painted by Cooper in his Indian tales. Who are those fellows?”

A party of natives were seen approaching, among whom was the Matabele chief. They were almost naked, but came on with a most assured air, squatting down in a half circle before the tent, and employing all their powers in staring stolidly at the strangers.

“Here, Luji,” shouted Hughes, who was carefully loading his rifle, “just see what these fellows want, will you?”

“Want calico, master,” said Luji, after a great amount of talk, “give gold.”

The Macomb, for such they were, produced from their waist-belts quills closed at each end, which contained gold. Some of the grains were of large size, and one of the natives showed a small lump of the yellow metal. It was quite evident that they knew where to procure it.

“Does not all this go to prove my theory, Hughes; and are we not approaching a gold country?”

“Tell them we are not traders, Luji. That we have not any calico; but ask if there is any large game about.”

The scantily-dressed natives squatted on, looking fixedly at the Europeans, and evidently not believing the assertion. At length one of their number, touching a large piece of canvas, which had been thrown on one side after fashioning the small tent, spoke volubly, often pointing to the mountain. “The Macomb show master caracal for this,” said Luji, laughing.

“What’s a caracal, Wyzinski?” asked Hughes. “Oh, these people call the leopard by that name; but the real caracal is the lynx or wild cat,” answered the missionary.

“Ask him where his caracal is, Luji?” said Hughes. The native pointed to a ledge of rock, high up the mountain-side.

“Well, tell him he shall have it, Luji, if he shows me the leopard. I’ll leave you to the baggage department, Wyzinski, and see whether I can get the caracal’s skin. Take the canvas, Luji, and come along. Tell him you will give it him if I get a shot at the leopard.”

Shouldering his rifle, Hughes moved on, beckoning to the native and Luji to follow him. The former rose and obeyed, while his comrades remained squatted before the tent, steadfastly gazing at Wyzinski, their eyes following his every movement, and so they remained stolidly staring for hours, before they took their departure.

Wending his way among the men, who were busily employed plucking wild ducks, and preparing them for the mid-day dinner, pounding up the manioc flour to make cakes, or looking to the fires, Hughes took his way towards the mountain, the native guide and Luji following. Hardly had they left the outskirts of the camp, when the monkey came bounding after them.

“Let him alone, Luji; you can’t drive him away,” said Hughes, as with a leap the mischievous brute ensconced himself on the man’s shoulders, the Macombé looking at the scene in great astonishment.

Toiling up the face of the hill-side, they reached at last the ledge of rock. It would have been very hazardous to face the leopard with so small a footing; besides, the animal, of course, had a refuge there. Making a wide circuit, the party, accompanied by the monkey, gained a height immediately above the ledge. Posting Luji at a spot where he judged he might prove useful in case the leopard bolted and the Hottentot did not, Captain Hughes, lying flat on his face, leaned over the edge of the precipitous rock, and looked down on to the ledge. It was a very awkward position, and when far enough over to enable the hunter to fire, he found himself nearly overbalanced.

The ledge was empty, but after watching for an hour, and when nearly wearied out, the leopard at last came out of his cave, and began walking up and down the narrow space.

Just as the animal, in one of his turns, arrived under him, the hunter fired. The ball struck obliquely, where the spine joins with the head, and, slanting off, lodged in the brain, death being instantaneous, but the hunter was nearly overbalanced. Just as he struggled to his knees, the baboon, with a tremendous spring, lighted right on his shoulders. The sudden shock destroyed the balance, and clutching at the bushes, which gave way slowly, one by one, Hughes went over the precipice.

They luckily saved him, but, bruised and shaken, he fell on the ledge, close to the dead leopard, the lock of the rifle being broken in the fall. Looking up, he saw the monkey, peering over, and grimacing, for so nimble was it, that it had not shared the fall. Shaking his fist, in return for which he received a shower of stones and dirt, Hughes moved cautiously along the ledge. The leopard was quite dead. A cave lay a little further on, and as he entered it, he was almost driven back by the close smell of decaying flesh. It was heaped with bones, and remains of deer, and must have been used for many years.

The leopard was a male, and the female might be near. Advancing cautiously, his rifle, only one barrel of which was available, in his hand, Hughes was astonished by the great extent of the cavern. To the right, it soon became black as night, and the sound of falling water was to be heard. This might explain the extreme coldness and clearness of the streams of Gorongoza, for doubtless they took their rise in the heart of these mountains, flowing perhaps for miles in darkness among the caverns. The roof was covered with beautiful white stalactites, but the eye could not penetrate the thick darkness in this direction. To the left a kind of corridor led towards an opening giving on the mountain-side, and towards this Hughes turned, glad to get away from the fetid exhalations of the cavern. Two hedgehogs were travelling in the same direction, the quills of which were very curious, being differently coloured, some white, others black, and some brown, the body, where it could be seen, entirely black. The animals rolled themselves up securely, looking just like parti-coloured balls. Emerging into daylight, and stepping from ledge to ledge, Hughes gained the mountain-side, hearing from time to time Luji’s shouts, as the man searched for him, then crossing a deep cut, he gained another spur of the Nyamonga range, higher far than the hill of Gorongoza.

Shading his eyes with his hand, Captain Hughes paused breathless on the mountain-height. The whole country lay spread like a map before him. Far away to the east lay the face of a friend, for the blue line of the ocean was distinctly visible. The mountain range on which he stood ran nearly north and south, while the beautifully wooded plain, across which the party had travelled, was mapped out before his gaze, with Quissanga, Madanda, and the country of the Batonga plainly visible, the rivers looking like silvery threads, and the vast forests like inky spots, on the sunlit plain. To the north, stretched at the foot of the mountains, lay the plains they were yet to traverse, the unknown land of promise. It looked one dense forest, broken at rare intervals with open, and intersected by two rivers, one appearing a considerable sheet of water, while in the far distance, a range of lofty mountains loomed, dim, blue, and ghostlike in their outline.

A deep interest attached itself to the scene, for between him and those mountains the Zambesi must run, and somewhere among the forests must lie the ruined cities of Zulu land, if indeed they existed at all, save in the excited imagination of the missionary. An hour had gone by and still Hughes stood gazing over the scene, when a shout came ringing up the hill-side, and soon a dark speck was seen jumping from ledge to ledge. Recognising his comrade, Hughes answered the cry.

“I was anxious about you,” said Wyzinski, as he stood breathless and panting on the summit. “The whole camp is out in search of you; Luji brought in a report that you had pitched over the cliff.”

“And so I did, thanks to his demon of a monkey.”

“Yes; we found the dead leopard, and when searching, I thought I saw something like a human outline on the mountain.”

“Now, Wyzinski,” asked his comrade, as he leaned on his rifle, “where runs the Zambesi? for I suppose it is between us and yonder mountains.”

“Follow the coast-line,” returned the other. “There lies Sofala, and some forty or fifty miles more to the north the Zambesi must empty itself into the sea at Quillimane.”

“Livingstone came as far south as that, and as far north from the Cape as the Limpopo.”

“He did: but instead of travelling further north as we have done, he turned to the westward, visiting the Bechuanas and Mozelkatse’s country; but see, what on earth can that be?”

The missionary pointed to a kind of cairn on the mountain-side. Beside it lay six slabs of stone, and that they were the work of the white man was evident. Cracked, blackened, and defaced, there was no mistake, the stones were worked into flat slabs, but whose were the hands that fashioned them?

“There seems to be an inscription,” said Wyzinski, as he stooped over them. “I feel deep marks in the stone, but the earth has given way beneath them, and creeping plants have grown over them. All these three are cracked and broken.”

“Here are three out of the six in a better state,” said Hughes. “We can cut away the undergrowth.”

“If we can get at one only that will be sufficient,” said Wyzinski, eagerly, as the two cut away at the masses of weed with their knives. “Should there be any inscription, we may gain some knowledge to guide our future course.”

It took a long time and much labour to clear away the undergrowth, and then but to meet with disappointment.

“The different wandering tribes who have camped here have used the slabs as fire-places,” observed Wyzinski, sighing. “We must have water, and how can we get it here.”

“Oh, easily,” replied Hughes, whose experience of Indian life came to his aid. “With a buffalo hide we can make a bag which will hold water, and can be carried on a man’s back. We call them bheasties in Madras.”

“The black grime and the dirt of ages seems encrusted on the slabs of Gorongoza,” remarked the missionary. “I can feel that there is an inscription, but I can’t make it out. The dirt has become like stone, and will want long softening, before we can scoop it out.”

“It seems to me, as far as fingers can tell, that the cuttings are of European form. This would go against your theory, Wyzinski.”

“We will see that to-morrow,” was the reply, as rising and shutting their knives the two took their way down to the plain, speculating moodily on the probable history of the slabs of Gorongoza.

The night set in wild and stormy, the thunder echoing among the mountains, and the rain falling in torrents, but when morning dawned, waking up the wild ducks among the long reeds, and bringing them out on the clear waters of the Golden River, rousing up the parrots and the monkeys in the neighbouring groves, and hushing the cries of the jackals on the plains, the air was cool and pleasant.

Clothes hung on the branches near, drying in the sunshine; rifles and guns were being cleaned, the fires were lighted, and the never ceasing process of cooking was going on. Luji and one of the Kaffirs were drawing the sides of a buffalo hide together by means of a string, so as to carry water, working under Hughes’s direction. The missionary was busy with a small tool-chest, carefully selecting the objects which would aid in the proposed search. The leopard’s skin, stretched on two sticks, was drying in the morning sunshine, and the baboon dodging here and there, doing all the mischief possible, and stealing everything it could lay its hands upon.

Seizing on a wild duck, just ready for the fire, the incorrigible ape bounded off with it, pursued by one of the Kaffirs. The monkey gained the neighbouring grove, and plunged in, followed by its pursuer. The next moment the animal dashed back, having dropped the bird, evidently terribly alarmed, and chattering its teeth, took refuge with Luji.

“There is something in the bush, Luji,” said Hughes, snatching up his rifle. “Wyzinski, look out, there is something wrong yonder.”

The Kaffir, who had pursued the ape, had halted, and was staring fixedly in the direction of the wood.

“There’s the solution of the mystery,” returned the missionary, calmly, continuing his work as though nothing had happened, while one by one in Indian file, some fifty men, fully armed, and evidently belonging to a tribe not yet met with, stepped out of the wood and advanced towards the little camp. Halting about thirty paces distant, the party squatted on the ground, holding their long assegais in their hands, and having their shields in readiness apparently for attack.

“Do you observe,” remarked the missionary, raising his head from his work, “those men have none of the length of limb of the Zulu race, but are, on the contrary, small of stature and villainously ugly? There is the chief advancing towards us.”

“Well, he is certainly a curious object,” replied the soldier, leaning on his rifle. “I never saw a man with so low a forehead, so prominent cheek-bones, or so flat a nose. For all covering a piece of hide round the loins, and what on earth has he on his face? They look like button mushrooms growing out of the flesh. Pah! it’s enough to make one sick.”

Low of stature, very black, and having the peculiarities named by Hughes, the chief’s natural ugliness was greatly heightened by a row of gold buttons, let into the flesh, from the point of the nose to the roots of the hair.

With a firm step and upright bearing, this hideous object advanced into the camp. Masheesh joined the group, and while the dusky braves, with their assegais and shields, remained calmly looking on, a long parley took place before the tent.

The chief of this man’s tribe had his kraal near Manica, and was a dependant of the great Machin himself, a rival of Mozelkatse. To him the Arab, Achmet Ben Arif, had sent a runner, telling of what bad passed at Sofala, and also of the travellers’ objects in thus seeking the interior. The chief invited the whole party to his kraal at Busi, and under the circumstances, with fifty lance-heads glittering in the sunshine, to enforce the proffered hospitality, it was difficult to say No.

“The direction, too,” said the missionary, “is exactly that we wish to take; and if even we could help ourselves, which we can’t, it will be better to go.”

“Then we must leave the mysterious slabs on the top of yonder mountain, with their tales untold.”

“Our first object,” replied the missionary, “is to discover the ruined cities of Zulu land; we can return any time to Gorongoza; and who so likely to aid our search as this chief of Manica.”

“If he is anything like his envoy, I don’t care much to see him, for a more villainous lot I never met.”

“Tell him we will break ground at daylight to-morrow, Matabele,” said Wyzinski, and the interview ended. The armed men lounged lazily about the camp, the baggage was put in order, the slabs of Gorongoza were left behind, and the next day, having followed a northerly direction, with some westing in it, the Mahongo river was passed. With so strong a party it was easy to drive the antelope, so hartebeest and eland meat was plentiful in the camp. The route sometimes led through thick forests, which the travellers would have had some difficulty in threading unguided, and it was only on the tenth day after quitting Gorongoza the party reached the kraal, to find the chief absent, having been called to Manica on a great hunting expedition. Wyzinski wished to proceed to Manica, but they found themselves virtually prisoners though their arms were left, and a hut was assigned to the white men, Luji remaining with them. The baboon gradually gained a great reputation, and the Hottentot was looked upon as the “charmer” of the party, a reputation which pleased his childish nature, and which he added to by teaching the monkey all kind of tricks, and never moving about without it. He was in consequence regarded with some awe, and the baboon, supposed also to possess the secret of “charms,” was always respected.

The place itself was curious enough. Three conical hills rose in the plain, the top of one of them being as it were shaved off, most probably by the action of time. This flat and rather inaccessible ground was the residence of the chief, and here too was the usual stockade, where the councils of the tribe were held. At the foot of this hill lay the huts of the kraal, one of which, detached from the rest, was given to the white men. In form it resembled exactly the dome-shaped tent of a subaltern in India, a pole also running up the centre, the whole being made of wood, covered with bark, and having, instead of a door, a small opening constructed like a narrow passage. Skins served as a bed, and the furniture consisted of a large earthen vase made to contain the maize or manioc flour; the cowrie baskets and knapsacks having also been deposited inside. A large tree overshadowed the bark hut, and under it the greater part of the day was spent, and all cooking was carried on, the natives themselves evidently living almost wholly in the open air, and only retiring to their huts during bad weather. The women of this tribe were fully as repulsive as the men, and they too wore the curious buttons, sometimes of brass, sometimes of copper, but always in rows as high as the cheek bone, and occasionally one or two in the chin, the buttons being let into the flesh when young, and thus grown in. One strange peculiarity which struck the Europeans forcibly was that among the women, a slit was made in the skin on each side the hip. The youngest child is carried on the parent’s back, and this slit serves it as a stirrup, so that with one arm round the mother’s neck, the child is carried easily and safely, the mother having the free use of her hands. This is the more necessary, as much of the labour is done by the women, the maize or manioc being all ground up by them, the instruments used and the mode of using them being exactly that shown forth in the old Egyptian symbolical sculpture. Among the males the Jewish custom of circumcision prevailed, and these were two points which struck Wyzinski particularly. The tribe was not indigenous, but under the control of Machin, chief of Manica, and was made up of a mixed race, being partly of the blood of the Makoapa, who owned Knobneusen as their chief, partly of that of a fierce and treacherous race called Banyai.

This native kraal of Busi is pleasantly situated. To the northward, far away in the distance, a lofty hill called “Morumbala,” near whose base flows the “Zambesi,” while to the southward the mountains of Nyamonga and Gorongoza stretch away into the horizon. Thick forests of trees, many of them of tropical growth, sweep around, while the plains are rich in luxuriant vegetation. The cedar, the ebony palmyra, mohonono, mashuka, acacia, mashanga, and the dwarf custard-apple, grow abundantly, while a bright red bean, called the mosika, together with maize, is much cultivated. Iron is found and worked on the hill-sides, after a very homely fashion, while coal actually crops up out of the ground, and is picked out by the women, who use only a hoe.

The copper and brass ornaments are procured, in the way of trade, from the Portuguese of the Zambesi; but gold is plentiful and its value known, the women washing it out of the ground in quantities, sometimes even finding it in pure nuggets. All this seemed strongly to confirm the missionary’s firm belief that in this neighbourhood was once found and exported gold, cedar, and other riches. Elephants were numerous in the forests, and the ivory was sold to the Portuguese. It was to a grand elephant hunt the head of the tribe had been called, and, with the exception of the brave and his escort of fifty warriors who had accompanied the white men, none but the women remained in the kraal.

A week passed by, and at its expiration the shouts of the men, and the shrill screams of the women, heralded the return of the head warrior Umhleswa, and told that the hunt had been a successful one.

The Ruined Cities of Zulu Land

The morning after the chief’s arrival there was a great commotion in the kraal. Men ran to and fro, there was shouting and much talking, and at last, followed by his warriors, the chief Umhleswa came down from the council enclosure, and taking his way among the huts, halted at the entrance of that which had been assigned to the white men. Umhleswa found them seated under the tree which overshadowed their home, and, whatever he might think of them, his own appearance was in no way prepossessing. Under the middle height, his legs were curved, or bowed, his forehead low and retreating, the part of the head behind the ears being very massive. The ears themselves were enormous, and the mouth very large; the nose flattened, and the lips thick. He wore the usual set of small buttons let into the flesh, but they were of virgin gold; and a panther skin was attached by a golden clasp round the waist, falling like a Highland kilt. A number of small objects of glass, beads, and ivory hung down from his waist, making a rattle as he walked. Bound his ankles, wrists, and the fleshy part of the arm were circles of copper. He carried no arms, but held in his hand a stick, also of gold, about a foot long, and his teeth were filed, giving an appearance of savage ferocity to his repulsive face. The white men rose, and some additional skins being brought, the three chiefs, Umhleswa, the missionary, and the soldier, seated themselves, the warriors squatting in a circle around.

“The white chiefs are not traders, but like gold,” said the savage, after a prolonged stare. “They seek some fallen huts, formerly made by their white fathers?” asked he, speaking in the Zulu tongue.

“Achmet Ben Arif spoke truly when he told you so, Umhleswa,” was the reply.

“The white chiefs saw the fallen house at Sofala. In the mountains at Gorongoza are caves; the traders of the Zambesi built the house, the worshippers of the white man’s God lived at Gorongoza. There are no other remains of them.”

“And the stone tablets on the mountain?” eagerly asked the missionary.

The lips of the savage parted, showing the sharp filed teeth. “They are the graves of those who served the white man’s god.”

“And no other ruined huts are here?”

“None. Let the white chiefs hunt with my warriors, they are welcome; the elephant and the rhinoceros are in plenty. The Zambesi is not far distant, when they are tired of the hunt.”

The missionary was terribly disappointed, for the chief’s face bore on it a look of truthfulness. There was no reason for doubting him, and he did not do so.

“Umhleswa would see the chiefs hunt himself. Cattle were carried away from his kraal last night. The robbers were three in number, and are panthers. My scouts are out on the spoor: will the white men join my braves this day?”

“Willingly,” replied the missionary, who at once explained what had passed to the soldier. Tired of a week’s inactivity, the latter was enchanted at the chance. The rifles and ammunition were soon ready. One of the scouts came in with his report that the spoor had been followed into a neighbouring wood, and that the three panthers had not left it. The party consisted of the Europeans and the Matabele chief, together with Umhleswa and about thirty of his tribe. The men were armed with spears, some carrying bows and arrows, the chief alone having an old Spanish long-barrelled fowling piece, damascened with gold.

About four miles of plain lay stretched between the Amatonga village and the forest line, and it was to this the whole troop of noisy savages, headed by their chief and the two white men, took their way in a body. The forest-land, broken at intervals by patches of plain watered by a small stream, stretched away to the mountains, and once it was reached, Umhleswa made his arrangements. All the men armed with assegais were told off as beaters, and advancing in a long line they carried the bush before them. The rest, armed with bows and arrows, were stationed in small groups at the further extremity of the thick cover. Several patches of bush had thus been beaten out, and no game was found.