Child of Storm

Leaving my boy in charge of some kind people in Durban, I started into

"the Zulu"--a land with which I had already become well acquainted as a

youth, there to carry on my wild life of trading and hunting.

For the trading I never cared much, as may be guessed from the little

that ever I made out of it, the art of traffic being in truth repugnant

to me. But hunting was always the breath of my nostrils--not that I am

fond of killing creatures, for any humane man soon wearies of slaughter.

No, it is the excitement of sport, which, before breechloaders came in,

was acute enough, I can assure you; the lonely existence in wild places,

often with only the sun and the stars for companions; the continual

adventures; the strange tribes with whom I came in contact; in short,

the change, the danger, the hope always of finding something great and

new, that attracted and still attracts me, even now when I have found

the great and the new. There, I must not go on writing like this, or I

shall throw down my pen and book a passage for Africa, and incidentally

to the next world, no doubt--that world of the great and new!

It was, I think, in the month of May in the year 1854 that I went

hunting in rough country between the White and Black Umvolosi Rivers, by

permission of Panda--whom the Boers had made king of Zululand after the

defeat and death of Dingaan his brother. The district was very feverish,

and for this reason I had entered it in the winter months. There was so

much bush that, in the total absence of roads, I thought it wise not

to attempt to bring my wagons down, and as no horses would live in

that veld I went on foot. My principal companions were a Kafir of mixed

origin, called Sikauli, commonly abbreviated into Scowl, the Zulu chief

Saduko, and a headman of the Undwandwe blood named Umbezi, at whose

kraal on the high land about thirty miles away I left my wagon and

certain of my men in charge of the goods and some ivory that I had

traded.

This Umbezi was a stout and genial-mannered man of about sixty years of

age, and, what is rare among these people, one who loved sport for its

own sake. Being aware of his tastes, also that he knew the country

and was skilled in finding game, I had promised him a gun if he would

accompany me and bring a few hunters. It was a particularly bad gun that

had seen much service, and one which had an unpleasing habit of going

off at half-cock; but even after he had seen it, and I in my honesty had

explained its weaknesses, he jumped at the offer.