The Land of the Hibiscus Blossom
James Hume Nisbet (1888)
Country of origin: Australia
Available texts by the same author here
XXV. Kamo to the Fore.
THROUGH the forest, towards the mountain, rushed Kamo, blind to everything except his own utter misery. Tumbling over twigs and fallen limbs of dead trees, mile after mile he ran on, until at last Nature triumphed over misery, and he sank exhausted at the foot of a gigantic tamarind.He had gone in a direct line instinctively, taking the native track to the interior, and where he now lay panting, he was nearly midway between his own village and the village with which they were at enmity, much nearer than he would have dared to venture by day, alone and unarmed as he was.
Of course he knew every mile of the way, and with the sure instinct of the savage, discovered his locality, as soon as his first giddiness of exhaustion had passed; then, with the same instinct, caution commenced to assert itself in his breast, and he began to consider his position, and think if there could be any way out of it, anything he could do to repair his mistake and regain his place with his tribe.
Yes! it was a desperate plan, but he was in a desperate plight--blood alone could wash out his iniquity, and raise him in the estimation of his people. If he could, unarmed, take a life or two, and bring back some heads, then he would become a real hero, and they would forgive him, and he would once more work his way in with Mavaraiko and regain his love.
He would do it, or die in the attempt; to go back empty-handed meant a death as cruel as the death in front, to steal forward might mean life and love, and could at the worst only be death.
Extremity is the finest goad to exertion.
Motionlessly he now listened before he rose up, then hearing all the forest seemingly deserted, he stole, with careful feet, onwards towards the mountain village.
The upper foliage was too dense for any moonlight to penetrate, and from bush to bush he managed to glide and hide without a chance of being seen, and only the faintest chance of being heard when a twig crackled under his feet.
A deadly quiet walk through an almost Egyptian darkness, with barriers checking him, and tendrils clinging about him at every step, through a lavish labyrinth of flowers, leaves and creepers, such as only a savage could find or force a passage without waking the surrounding echoes of the night.
"Hark!" what was that?
Kamo dissolved into the intricacies of an evergreen, without seemingly disturbing a leaf, and listened with starting eyes to the sound in front.
Nothing to break the repose of the windless forest to any ears, save those of an untamed son of Nature, but enough to signify to him that a body of natives were gliding towards him, with just a little less than their usual caution, for they were still too far off their goal to care how they trod.
On the war-trail, for their spears were disturbing the leaves as they passed by his lair, and he could hear the rubbing of their poisoned arrows against their shields at times.
Up to two hundred Kamo counted as they glided past him in single file, without a word, for it is unlucky to break silence when going to the hunt. A mighty raid they intended with that number, and going towards his tribe.
It meant extermination, for they had not more than sixty fighting men ready if not warned; bad enough even then.
Was he yet destined to retrieve his fault by a mighty deed which would save his tribe? If not, he could die for and with them.
Out of the shrubby ambush, as the last man passed, Kamo glided, without any plan, only determined to follow and take his chance.
Two hundred and one men are now upon the war-path, walking single file; but the second last man has no suspicion that there is another behind.
The warrior last but one is the youngest man of the tribe; he is now going on his first raid with his full accoutrements on; indeed, an extra supply of everything, as young men will begin life with when they can.
Has he tripped over a stone and fallen? It must be so, for he makes no sign to the one in front, so that he doesn't wait on him, but glides along, leaving the young brave to come up when he rises. A moment more and he rejoins the man in front, gliding on voiceless.
Pitch darkness in the forest where they walk, with a headless body lying bleeding in the forest, which that chance fall had given to Kamo, his first head, which now dangles at his waist-belt, the warm fluid running down his left leg, and growing chilly in the night air.
"Ugh!" a heavy breath from the next man as Kamo piths him from behind with the sharp bone-blade which the headless youth supplied him with, and he too is laid noiselessly in the path with a split heart. There is no time to take this head, but he can find it if he ever comes back that way. There are now only one hundred and ninety-eight, with one enemy, on the war-trail now.
A game of treachery? Yes, an all-round New Guinea game, like the one Judith played to save her people.
On, on through the darkness, while the men in front get angry at the want of caution from those behind; they will gasp now and again where there is no need, but as yet no one has actually broken the strictly--observed silence, only the last man but one did not die instantly, and Kamo had to hold his mouth with all his might while he felt about for the heart. This made the twigs under foot to break too loudly, and much disturbed and annoyed the chief in front; but now they are going on all right, and have got within about a mile of the village doomed to destruction.
Kamo has succeeded beyond his desires; twenty men lie bleeding on the war-path out of that two hundred, and four of them are without their heads, a heavy load for Kamo to carry from his waist-belt; but he will be honoured now even if he dies.
Half a mile and the glare from the fires begin to dart between the leaves and light up little projections like fire-flies. Kamo now knows that his friends are partly prepared, and makes up his mind to go. There is a side cutting which he knows, and which only lately has been cleared, close at hand; this will lead him quicker to the village, if the light doesn't stream through it, and betray it to the enemy.
The fire-fly flashes have now taken on the proportion and colour of butterflies in the full sun. A few more yards and they will see one another distinctly. Now is the time. They have passed the lane which is faithful in its darkness, and offers the retreat after he has potted his twenty-first man. No need for caution now; it must be a race for life.
Kamo hangs back a moment in deep shadow, so as to get better purchase with his borrowed man trap, which he dare not use before in case he missed,--just a moment while the warrior in front plunges past a bar of fire-light which crosses the foot-path. They are near to the village gardens, and with a few more steps they will be full in the light of the thinning forest-trees.
"Whish!" the bamboo man-trap, with its pithing spear, is over the warrior's head, and catches him under the chin, jerking the spinal column full against the prong, then, with a yell of triumph, Kamo let go the handle and bounds backwards into the deep shelter of that trusty cutting.