Mir Pacifica

Published: 2 Apr 2018

Thomas had managed to rid himself of the tatters that were once his shirt and it seemed that George must have reported his loss to Fairley as Thomas saw his young friend in the boat that was now heading towards the beach. Thomas braced himself for what he was sure would be some unwanted comment from Fairley as the boat hit the shore and the young teen jumped onto the sand with a fresh shirt for Thomas.

While Fairley made his way through the dry sand towards Thomas, Nkoma continued to speak to Thomas about his father’s wishes and plans. It was not made any easier by the fact Nkoma had to use his own language for many of the words and then sit a while to work out the translation for Thomas. Fairley’s voice broke Thomas’s concentration on what Nkoma was saying.

“Well bless me General take a look at you now all naked and such. Becoming a savage are we General?”

“Shut up Fairley or you will be our dinner tonight.”

“Not a good idea General; taste right nasty I do. Thought you might like a clean shirt General; seeing as how you let that savage use yours for a flag like.”

“Fairley you are getting close to being dinner.”

“Right you are General; but I did say I won’t be to your taste; just fair warning General.”

“Give me the bloody shirt Fairley before I think it’s a bloody good idea to have you cooked.”

Fairley smiled as he handed over the clean shirt and then turned back towards where the boat was still waiting for him to return to the ship. Thomas did not miss the look he was getting from Nkoma but tried to ignore it; what he and Fairley shared was something peculiar only to them and was not easily understood by those who had not seen them working together over the last few years.

With the shirt now covering his white skin, Thomas turned back to Nkoma and what his new friend was trying to tell him.

“Nkokheli… Father speak… you stay… hmmm… Usuku Shumi.”

When Thomas gave his usual blank look at the use of Nkoma’s language, his friend waved his hand from the east in a curving arc towards the west which Thomas knew meant the movement of the sun. With that done Nkoma then fisted both hands and rapped them together once which indicated ten. Thomas nodded his head and then said.

“Yes, ten days.”

Nkoma smiled and nodded as he said.

“Ewe… ten das. You, friends all stay… Father return soon.”

Thomas thought about how far they had yet to go on their travels but finally deduced that a few more days rest for the crews would not go astray and he was at the moment enthralled by what he had so far learned about this new and savage land and its people. Thomas nodded and tried out his very limited language skills with a rather stumbling three word reply.

“Ewe… Usuku Shumi.”

The wide smile on Nkoma’s face told Thomas he had got something almost right as his new friend nodded his head and clapped his hands at Thomas’s brave attempt. Thomas now took the time to look around where the two sat in the shade. Out in front of them stood all the new warriors Nkoma’s father had left behind to guard them; there was little chance of anyone getting close to them without being stopped well before that happened.

There had also been an increase in the number of females in the camp but at this stage Thomas did not want to make mention of the changes. He was far more interested in learning what he could before looking into finer details. For the next two days they all sat in the shade while the warriors stood out in the sun on guard although some were always at practice with their shields and short stabbing spears.

For Thomas to see how the warriors used their weapons was of great interest and he was often enthralled by their many skills with the strange weapon. Thomas had asked Nkoma what they were called and his reply soon had Thomas once again practicing his skill with the language. While Nkoma’s description was two longer words; Umkhonto Omfutshane, for Thomas he said it was also right to call them by the single word Omfutshane.

The women seemed to work non-stop all through the day while the men just sat in the shade either talking or waiting to be fed. Thomas was intrigued how the women were able to find all manner of vegetables and greens from the surrounding woods or even out on the more open plains behind the beach.

When asked about it Nkoma just shrugged his shoulders and told Thomas it was the women’s work to know such things; the men were warriors and hunters, the women were gatherers and tenders of the home and fires.

During the previous two days Thomas had spent every moment he could to learn more of the language. It seemed to always have been one of his previously unknown talents and desires to learn such things, even though he had never been inside a school for a single day of his short life.

As the sun sank into the west on the second day, Thomas’s skill with the new language had improved remarkably and at the same time so had Nkoma’s understanding of Portuguese. So conversations were becoming easier for the two young men by using a mixture of both.

The morning of the third day had hardly begun before Thomas heard what was now a familiar sound; the swishing and drumming of a fast moving army of warriors. Nkoma’s father was nearby and must have moved through the night to make the beach although Thomas was not aware of how far away the man had gone since last seeing him.

A half hour later and the full army from before was once again squatting out in the sun, while Nkoma’s father sat on a taller stool instead of the throne like chair he had had previously. Nkoma and Thomas were also sitting on their shorter stools to the left and right as before as the huge man began to speak to Nkoma and then wait while his son translated for Thomas.

“Nkokheli Toma, Father asks if you would hunt with him.”

Thomas did not hesitate as he thought it would be impolite to do so and to refuse the invitation may cause the huge man to be offended. Making sure he had his accent correct he looked up at the large man and said with his new language skills, “Ewe Yindlova Enkulu Yenkomo.”

Thomas was surprised by the wide smile that came over the large man’s face. His reply to both Nkoma and Thomas was a little too fast for Thomas to understand all of it, but he did get the idea the large man was happy with both his use of their language and the acceptance of the venture to go out hunting with him.

“Father is much happy you speak well. Soon we go hunt. Father ask you to take weapon you like, the hunt is for you first blood.”

“What do we hunt Nkoma?”

Nkoma turned to his father and spoke far too fast for Thomas to follow but when the reply came Thomas noted the look on Nkoma’s face was not one of happiness but a curt word from the large man soon had Nkoma sigh and then tell Thomas.

“Father speaks… you find spirit… you feel blood of spirit… give you name of spirit, must have for gifting.”

The reply only left Thomas with a strange feeling that all was not what it seemed. Was this some sort of test or was it a chance to get Thomas alone out in the wilds and kill him without bringing down the wrath of his three ships and their crews? Thomas was not sure if he was being manipulated but now he had to stick by his word and go out into the hinterland and hope he returned in one piece.

Nkoma’s father called for the women to bring food and drink and then turned to the mass of warriors and gave sharp orders. Within a few minutes there was not a single warrior on the beach. Even those who had originally been left to guard the young ones were gone at a fast pace.

It was about two hours before the middle of the day when Thomas saw one of the warriors return in a sweating condition and obviously short of breath as he knelt before Nkoma’s father and gave him a report that only the large man could hear. Thomas had sent a message back to the ship for his double barreled Musket to be brought ashore for him. Thomas had spent the intervening time to clean and check then load his weapon ready for the upcoming hunt.

While Both Nkoma and his father had been interested in what Thomas was doing with the weapon, they made no move to interfere or ask any questions that may have disturbed him in his preparations. When the still panting warrior had finished his whispered report, Nkoma’s father stood from his stool and said, “Siyahamba.”

He then began walking away as though he expected to be followed without reply or hesitation. Thomas shouldered his musket and after Nkoma told him his father had said it was time to move off, they both followed the large man’s footsteps off the beach towards the huge lands beyond.

Once again Nkoma’s father was carrying only his short stabbing spear, the omfutshane, and his strange stick like club that Thomas now knew was called an iqela. There were no guards or others to watch over them as they turned towards the wide open spaces of the hinterland.

Thomas soon got used to the pace as he trotted beside Nkoma with the larger man a pace or two ahead of them. The pace was not fast but was almost the same as what Thomas and his men had used during the war but without the slowing down for thirty paces. The ground seemed to pass by at a steady clip as the three figures got further and further away from the beach. All Thomas could see was a vast land of brown flowing grass with bluish purple mountains far off in the distance.

The intervening space was broken only by the occasional splash of bright green which may have been a river, stream or watering hole. It was all new to Thomas’s eyes and he had difficulty keeping his mind on the job of running so he would not trip and embarrass himself in front of his hosts. It was the sheer vastness of the land that gripped Thomas’s imagination, how much further it extended he could not even hazard a guess but what he could now see made him feel very small in the greater scheme of things.

After about an hour, Thomas and the other two came to a place that had evidently been flattened by the feet of many men stamping the grass flat. It was a large circle of about twenty feet across and Thomas could not work out why it had been done. Nkoma’s father came to a halt and then stood looking around before he called out in a loud ululating voice that echoed across the vast expanse. There was no sight or sound of the many warriors that had gone before them.

The large man turned and spoke to Nkoma and then waited while he translated for Thomas.

“Father speaks… you stand this place… your spirit come this way.”

Nkoma pointed towards a stand of barrel trunked trees no more than fifty feet away. Whatever was expected was not in sight and Thomas had no idea what he was to look for. When Thomas turned back to ask Nkoma what to do there was no sign of either Nkoma or his large father. Thomas had no idea how they could have moved away without a single sound and him not hearing them. Thomas was now alone in the wild vastness.

Suddenly Thomas heard the distant sound which he now knew was the rapping of spear butts on the hide shields. It seemed to come from all sides and was some distance away as yet, but slowly moving closer as he tried to look all around him at the same time. Thomas unconsciously slipped the Musket off his shoulder and cocked both barrels while holding the musket in both hands at waist level as the strange drumming got closer to where he stood alone in the middle of the grass circle.

It did not take long before Thomas heard the most spine chilling scream he had ever heard and it came from the direction of the trees Nkoma had pointed out to him. Thomas’s blood ran cold at the strange sound and his body tensed up in anticipation of danger. Something he was quite used to after the years spent at war. All of Thomas’s senses were now on full alert, of the two men that had brought him to this strange and dangerous place, there was no sign. He was alone with the silence. A small bead of sweat slipped down his forehead as he tried to sharpen his eyes in the direction the screaming had come from.

The sound of the rapping got closer and closer and once again he heard the scream but this time it seemed a little closer but hidden in the longer grass. As yet Thomas had still not seen what he was facing and this caused him to have some concern, at least he could see the damn French, but this was totally out of his comfort zone and he knew it.

When it came Thomas almost missed it. In front of him he saw a faint movement in the long flowing grass. Had there been any wind he would not have taken notice, but it gave him just a fraction of a second to bring up the barrels to waist height, when something let out a loud scream and came rocketing out of the grass at an unbelievable speed.

In the fraction of a second Thomas saw it was some type of giant cat but nothing like Thomas had ever seen before. Before he could do much else, the blur of yellow was almost upon him. Thomas fired more by instinct than thought, but was suddenly scared as the first barrel missed. He did not have time to raise the musket for a better shot as the huge cat was in the air and almost right on top of him when he lifted the barrel a little and fired the second barrel in desperation.

The shot took the animal in the left shoulder area and pushed it to the side of its intended target, which was Thomas. It was so close that Thomas could smell the rancid breath and see the huge yellow canine teeth in the upper and lower jaws.

The cat’s direction had been pushed far enough to the side that it could only rake the claws of its right paw over Thomas’s left thigh, which also knocked him to the ground on his back, as the large cat tumbled head over heels. Then in the same movement, bounded back on its four feet, although Thomas could see it was favouring its left leg. There was a heavy trickle of fresh blood coming from the left shoulder, and the cat looked as though it was ready to do murder, and Thomas knew who was going to be the victim.

Thomas quickly ignored the pain in his left leg which had brought a loud yelp from his own lips and lifted himself onto one knee as he spun to face the wild animal. It almost looked like a standoff as the cat tried to lick at the wound in his shoulder and still keep his yellow eyes on the small figure in the grass before him. Thomas knew he did not have the time to reload. He was at the mercy of not only a wild animal that could have him for dinner in two bites but was also wounded, angry and cornered.

The pause had given Thomas time for a quick glance around to see if there was any escape. It was then he saw all of the warriors had formed a complete circle around the two antagonists and blocking off any chance for either to get away. Nkoma and his father stood just to the front of the massed warriors and watched the lone figure kneeling on the grass and facing a wounded cat.

Thomas now realised what and where he was, it was not a good situation to be trapped in. It was at that moment that the strange thing that had kept Thomas alive at Rolica seemed to rise from his belly. If he was to die this day then so was the bloody cat or Thomas would at least give it a fight it did not expect.

Thomas stayed on one knee as the cat stopped licking its wound and began to limp back and forth with its long spotted tail whipping back and forth in time with its steps. The threatening snarl that came from the wounded cat showed Thomas just how big the canine teeth were. The lips had peeled back as it once again let out a snarl, then a scream, before it charged again and this time it was going to eat what was in front of it.

Somehow Thomas knew that when the cat screamed it was going to charge for a final reckoning. Thomas reached down to his boot tops and pulled his two boot knives in an underhanded grip, as he always had, just as the cat leapt into the air aimed directly for Thomas. The cats left leg seemed to be out of action, so Thomas only had to watch for the sharp claws on the right paw and the huge tooth filled mouth.

As the cat hit him, Thomas rolled with the force of it and with more desperation than talent, he plunged both knives into the ribs of the cat above him with all his might. He kept pushing until they were buried to the hilt in the ribs of the beast. At the last second, Thomas tilted his head to the right to avoid the cat’s jaws, as its full weight landed on top of him and the yellow teeth aimed at his throat. The force of the charge knocked the breath from his slender frame and he found himself buried underneath the large beast.

Thomas knew he was still alive but not how badly he was injured or if he had killed the cat with his last desperate move to stab for the heart. Just as Thomas thought he was going to live, he felt the cat begin to move as though to stand up for the next attack. There was nothing more Thomas could do as both his knives were now stuck deeply into the sides of the cat and his musket was empty and useless.

Thomas had a fleeting thought about his pair of Manton’s sitting uselessly on the ship and how much he wished they were now in his hands. The cat continued to move upwards and Thomas was able to take a breath before he could open his eyes fully, but when he did he saw something he did not expect.

Standing above him Thomas saw the huge figure of Nkoma’s father with the large yellow cat held in his two hands and lifting it above his head as though it weighed nothing at all. From the large man’s mouth came a loud ululation and then he called out in his loudest voice which almost deafened Thomas, “Nkokheli Toma Ingwe Engakwazi Ukufa.”

From all around Thomas came the answering call from the hundreds of warriors that formed the circle, “NKOKHELI TOMA INGWE ENGAKWAZI UKUFA”

The drumming on the inside of the shields grew to such a loud volume that it echoed out over the grassy plains and into the far distance. Thomas shook his head as he tried to stand but it was then that his injury took full hold of him and he collapsed back onto the grass as the drumming continued.

Nkoma was immediately by his side as Thomas looked up into the bright sun but still could not take in the fact just how bad the clawing had been. He was not game enough to actually look to make sure. Thomas asked Nkoma, “What did your father say?”

“Father speaks… you are now Nkokheli Toma, the… uhm Ingwe… uhm… who will not die.”

As Nkoma said Ingwe he pointed to the large yellow spotted cat that his father had now placed on the ground and pulled the two knives from. With the knives in his hand he called for one of the youngest warriors, handed the two knives to him and gave some orders. The young warrior took to his heels as fast as he could go and disappeared towards a far off green belt of trees with the two knives firmly grasped in his hand. Nkoma’s father turned back to Thomas with something akin to admiration in his normally impassive face.

Thomas did not realise his face and chest were covered in the cat’s blood and it was a few seconds before the large man saw the deep gouges in Thomas’s left thigh. With another loud yell he soon had six men running towards him as others began to search for something in the long grass.

Thomas let a groan escape his lips as he tried to look at the damage he had suffered from the cat’s attack. From the way his leg throbbed he knew there was a little more than he would have liked. Much to Thomas’s surprise, Nkoma slipped his canvas trousers off and stood as naked as the day he was born as he began to cut them with the large knife Thomas had given him. In a few seconds he had enough strips of cloth to begin binding Thomas’s thigh to stop the bleeding.

Thomas felt extremely lucky there had not been more damage done in the attack although he had a feeling the clawing had been bad enough, especially if he could not get some attention soon. Thomas needed to get back to the ship so Cartwright Jervis could repair the damage he had sustained. It was not long before Thomas was bodily picked up by four of the older warriors and gently laid down on a makeshift litter made from sticks and woven grass.

There were four long poles attached to the sturdy litter and it soon had two strong warriors on each end of the two long poles; Thomas had no idea how fast he was going to be transported back to the beach although he was not then aware that Surgeon Jervis would have very little to do with bringing him back to full health.

Just as the eight warriors were leaving, Thomas saw the large yellow cat being picked up by two other warriors and tied to a single pole before being mounted on the men’s shoulders to join the procession back to the beach. Nkoma’s father led the way and started the men singing a strange chant, as they stepped out at quite a pace with Nkoma striding along beside Thomas, as he was carried on the hastily made litter.

They had made a good distance before Thomas noticed the young warrior that had taken the knives away reappear and join the long line of warriors. He was sweating lightly and panting as though he had run at speed to catch up. In his hand he carried the now much cleaner boot knives but did not approach Thomas as yet.

As he was carried at a good ground eating pace across the open grassland, Thomas began to make sense of the chant the warriors were using. He was impressed by their orderly ranks as they had divided up into smaller phalanx of about one hundred and fifty men, which for his piece of mind, Thomas called a Company. Each Company had a leader who ran at the right hand front rank and gave his directions with his short spear.

The warriors were five to a rank across and about twenty five to a rank along the length. Each man was just apart far enough to be able to raise his shield with ease and all were practically in step with very little movement of their upper bodies. Their long muscular legs doing all the work as they seemed to almost float above the ground.

Nkoma’s father ran alone out in the front and was the leader of the chant. Next came two of what Thomas called ‘Companies’ running abreast with about ten feet between them, then came Thomas and his small group carrying the litter with Nkoma at his side. To the left and right of where Thomas lay were another two ‘Companies’ on each side and then the remainder of which Thomas thought could be upwards of a thousand warriors, followed along behind.

At the start of the chant, Nkoma’s father would break into the strange spread legged stomp and yet not lose the slightest of pace as he lifted his spear above his head and called out in a voice that echoed out over the empty plain, “Uyaphila… Uyaphila… Omkhulu Ingwe Engakwazi Ukufa.”

The large man in the lead would then drop his spear and return his pace to normal and the rest of the army would take up the chant and, when they finished they would lift their shields and rattle them with the butts of their spears three times, pause, then three more times. Nkoma’s father would then lift his Iqela over his head and they would all return to the same fast pace until the big man out front would start all over again.

Thomas managed to ask Nkoma what the words were even though he recognised the word Ingwe as being for the animal he had fought and killed. Nkoma had to think for a short time to get his own translation right before he replied to Thomas’s question.

“The Umkosi… hmmm… Army… say, He lives, He lives… The great Ingwe cannot die.”

Even with all that had happened that day Thomas could not stop the blush that heated his cheeks at hearing what was being said about him. Did they really think he was somehow immune to being killed? Thomas hoped he was never put in the spot where he had to find out for real. The closeness of his death earlier seemed to have slipped his thoughts as he was transported speedily over the flat plains on the litter.

The return to the beach was a little faster than Thomas thought it would be. There was little doubt that those left at the beach knew they were coming home as the chant had gone on for the full run back and the echo of the spears and shield drumming could not have been ignored.

As the large army broke out onto the beach, Thomas managed to lift his head enough to see everyone watching and waiting to see what all the noise was about. Although the women seemed to know, as they were standing in a tight group and calling out at the top of their voices in their strange ululation as they saw the first warriors appear.

On the beach were a large number of the crew from the ship and they all stood in a group to watch the goings on before them. It was Lorenco that spied Thomas lying on the litter and was quick to give one of his men orders to get out to the ship and ask for the surgeon. Before the huge army even came to a halt the longboat was pulling away frantically as Lorenco’s man urged them onward with curses and threatening gestures.

On arrival under the large shade tree, Nkoma’s father did not even stop for breath as he started yelling orders to all and sundry. The women stopped their infernal racket and disappeared into the trees. While a large number of the heavy breathing warriors dispersed to parts unknown, and taking the dead beast with them. Thomas was carried into the shade and placed carefully where they were told by Nkoma’s father.

The next order was shouted loudly and it seemed less than a second before the old stooped figure of the Buqili appeared from the shadows. A rattle in one hand and a large string of what looked like bones in the other. The old man’s face was still painted black with the white outlines around his eyes but his mouth looked as though he had painted something akin to white teeth on his lips. His appearance did not inspire confidence in Thomas’s mind as he looked up at the gruesome figure now above him.

The Buqili stood above Thomas and then shook the bones for a short time before changing to the rattle which he moved up and down Thomas’s still figure. While all this was going on Nkoma’s father was still shouting orders and the warriors were running here and there doing things that Thomas had no idea of. All of it seemed like chaos to Thomas, as the old Buqili kept going with his rattle, chanting and bones.

It was a few more minutes of the Buqili’s strange antics before the old man started to remove the bloody strips from his leg. It was something Thomas still did not want to see, the pain he felt told him all he wanted to know.

As the last piece of bandage was removed, Thomas heard a friendly voice coming towards him. Cartwright Jervis had arrived and was trying his best to push his way through the mass of warriors now standing in a guarding position around where Thomas was laying, but he was not having much success. Thomas called for Nkoma to tell the warriors to let Jervis through. He had to tell Nkoma that Jervis was his own Buqili before the man was allowed to approach Thomas.

Thomas noted that the old man did not look pleased about the appearance of Jervis and stayed as close as he could. Thomas was not surprised at the first words to issue from Jervis’s mouth when he saw the condition Thomas was in.

“What the hell have you done this time Thomas? It seems all my life is spent patching up holes in you. Now then what happened this time? By the look of those furrows you had plans on planting wheat.”

“Shut up Jervis and just get me back on my feet.”

“Ha… you won’t be doing much running for a while by the look of those furrows.”

“Well then, just get me back on my feet.”

Before much more could be said, Thomas was interrupted by Nkoma’s father as he stepped up and lightly pushed Jervis aside as he spoke to Nkoma and then waited for his words to be translated back to Thomas.

“Father say… The ghost skin Buqili cannot heal you… it will kill magic of Ingwe… heal must be Shishone… Father’s Buqili only he know magic of Ingwe. Magic die… Nkokheli Toma die.”

Thomas looked over to Jervis but it looked as though there was going to be little he could do about it as yet. As he looked at Jervis, his friend held up his hand so others could not see and showed Thomas a familiar small brown bottle. Thomas gave a slight nod of his head as he tried to listen to the orders being given by Nkoma’s father.

Thomas waited until Nkoma’s father had stopped talking before he gestured to Jervis and told Nkoma that he understood but he must tell his own Buqili not to interfere. Nkoma turned to his father and told him of Thomas’s request. The large man looked first at Thomas and then over to Jervis before he gave a very curt nod to allow Jervis to approach Thomas.

Jervis reached out with his hand and Thomas used both of his to clasp his friend’s hand, during which the small brown bottle changed hands without being detected. Thomas made a small joke and then nodded as Jervis stepped back to let the old Buqili begin his tending of Thomas’s injuries. Thomas kept his eyes open even though the prodding and pushing at the wound made him wince in pain.

After a few minutes of this, the old man called for some of the warriors and had Thomas taken down to the water’s edge. There his torn breeches were cut away and then the men began to bath the wound with the fresh salt water. Thomas gritted his teeth as the salty water began to make itself felt. With a hand up to his face he took a sip of the laudanum while everyone else was watching the old man and his ministrations.

The laudanum took most of the pain away almost instantly, and Thomas was able to ignore the further process’s of the old man as he washed the jagged wounds with salt water. When the old Buqili had finished he called for some warriors to carry Thomas back into the shade where he then called for the woman that had been mixing something further along the beach. When the woman arrived and gave the small wooden bowl to the old man, Thomas began to have his doubts as the rank odour of the mixture in the bowl hit his senses.

Thomas could only lay there on the litter as the old man began to smear the viscous looking green gunk onto each of the gashes on his thigh. He felt happy that he had been able to take the quick swallow of the laudanum as he felt a little light headed and was able to mostly ignore what was happening or any pain that may have gone along with the healing process.

When the old Buqili had finished dabbing the foul mixture on his thigh, Thomas watched as the woman gave him two large purple coloured leaves and these were laid on top of the wounds and tied with a string made from local plant life. When finished the old Buqili turned to Nkoma and said something then turned and walked to stand behind Nkoma’s father. Nkoma told Thomas.

“Shishone say… change every Usuku three time… soon healing is good.”

Thomas could only nod as the effects of the laudanum made him relax even more. Most of what happened next, went right past his understanding. It would not be until the next day that he was to hear everything that had gone on while he was passed out due to both his sip of the laudanum and the eventual reaction to the shock of his wounding.

Unknown to the unconscious Thomas, the rest of the day and night passed by without him waking up. Much due to the laudanum and a little to the shock. During the early hours of the next morning, Thomas struggled to open his eyes and look around. His stomach reminded him he had not eaten since the previous day, but the one thing he was thankful for was the lack of pain from his wound. His thigh even felt a little numb as he lay on the litter under the tree.

Thomas was able to look around in the first greyness of dawn and saw a large contingent of warriors standing and sitting close by as though to make sure he was not interrupted. Not far away he could make out the slumbering form of Nkoma as he also slept. Thomas did take note that Nkoma was now dressed much like his father in their traditional dress and it was then that Thomas realised he was still attired in his old dirty and bloody clothes. He would have to send for Fairley to bring him a clean change.

Further away Thomas could hear the sound of light snoring and the occasional grunt as men moved in their sleep or tried to find a better and more comfortable place to lay their head. The sun began to show itself in the east and Thomas let out a soft moan as he tried to sit up and look around more. His soft groan was enough to start the nearby warriors to jumping to their feet and looking around for any threats.

When the warrior guards realised the sound had come from Thomas they went and shook Nkoma’s shoulder to rouse him from his sleep. Nkoma was soon standing beside Thomas and looking down at him with bleary eyes but a wide smile.

“Ndiyakubona Nkokheli… you wounds not good?”

“Ndiyakubona Nkoma, I am well, my wounds are good and do not give me pain.”

“Ubuti Nkoma is pleased… soon Buqili will come for clean. Is Nkokheli Ingwe hungry?”

“Yes very hungry but I also need clean clothes.”

Thomas pointed to his bloody clothes as he asked Nkoma.

“Nkokheli Ingwe will have clean soon.”

“Can you ask my friends to bring new clothes?”

“From ship?” Nkoma pointed out to where the three ships lay at anchor as he asked Thomas.

“Yes… ask for Fairley, before he came with clothes.”

“Ah yes Ubuti Toma, small boy… I will ask Father.”

Thomas almost collapsed back on the litter, he had not realised he was still so tired. He also did not know how strong the laudanum was when he took the hefty sip. When he next opened his eyes it was to the sound of a familiar voice coming up the beach and using language more suited to a dock worker.

Thomas raised his head and saw Fairley being escorted by a number of warriors who were looking at the teen with a great deal of suspicion as he carried a large bundle in his hands. The fact he carried Thomas’s Manton’s in their holsters over his shoulder also did not go unnoticed. Thomas braced himself for some acidic words from his batman. Fairley finally made it to Thomas’s side, one look at his General and the condition Thomas was in only went to make Thomas brace himself for a long worded volley from the teen.

“Would you look at the bloody state of you General and what’s that God awful stink? Anyone would think you spent your time living in the sewers.”

“Shut up Fairley and give me those clean clothes.”

“Not until you get yourself cleaned up a bit, just look at the bloody state you’re in.”

“Fairley!”

“Sorry General but don’t Fairley me right now; if you was to see what you looked like all covered in blood and stuff then you would listen for a change. They tell me you went on a hunt and bloody tried to kill a great big pussy cat with nothing but your knives? Bloody mad I calls it.”

“Shut up Fairley and let me get changed out of these rags.”

“Not until you was cleaned General.”

“And how do you think we can do that when I can’t even walk yet?”

“Get some of them savages to carry you down to the water a course; they don’t be looking as though they got much to do.”

“Alright, I’ll ask Nkoma to help us but you watch that mouth of yours or they may take offense and put you over a fire for lunch.”

“What me General, nothing awry with my mouth General, just tell it like I see it. Now then let’s get you cleaned up and looking more like a General instead of some scouser from the docks.”

Thomas could only sigh as he knew it was pointless to try to get Fairley to stop once he got started. Thomas turned his head and called for Nkoma to ask for his help. Within seconds Thomas was lifted on the litter and taken quickly down to the water’s edge where Fairley began to undress him, ignoring all those around him as he stripped of the blood stained clothes with little thought to Thomas’s modesty.

With Fairley’s help Thomas was placed in a sitting position in the water that was just deep enough to come up to his waist. Taking a bar of lye soap and a large clean cloth from the bundle up on the dry sand. Fairley began to clean Thomas as best he could in salt water.

Once Thomas was as clean as he was ever going to be under the circumstances, Fairley had him gently carried back on the litter where he worked at drying him. Once Fairley thought Thomas was dry enough and clean enough he began to help him dress. It was soon found out that Thomas could not get his breeches back on over the thick pad of leaves, so Fairley just pulled up his cotton under clothes to cover his General’s modesty. The one thing that disturbed Fairley was the sight of how severe the injury on his thigh appeared to be. Before Fairley could do more for Thomas’ modesty, he felt the presence of another person, the smell of the new arrival also turned Fairley’s head immediately.

Shoshone, the Buqili, lightly pushed Fairley aside as he looked around and then called out. It was only a few seconds before one of the warriors arrived with more of the green gunk and some of the leaves. While the old Buqili set about reapplying the gunk to the wounds, Thomas took another small sip from his bottle even though the lack of pain from the wound did surprise him. Surely it could not have been healing so quickly. Thomas was still not sure he should look down to see how badly he had been clawed, there was plenty of time for that later.

Once the new poultice had been applied and tied with the leaves, the old Buqili left Thomas to lay back once again on the litter in the shade of the tree. Thomas now felt far better being clean and with fresh clothes even though he only had a pair of under shorts on but at least the new shirt and the feeling and smell of a clean body almost made up for the lack of modesty.

For the rest of that day Thomas was kept watch over. Anything he wanted was soon brought for him by either Nkoma or one of the warriors and by the time the sun was sinking into the west, Thomas was feeling a lot better and there was little bother coming from his wound.

Just before darkness came down, Thomas was once again carried to the salt water and his wound bathed and redressed by the old man. After the evening meal and another sip of laudanum, Thomas settled back and was soon deep in sleep. Tomorrow was another day and so far he was almost happy with the way things were going.

TBC

You are reading Book 3 of Thomas Markings incredible journey. Let Arthur know what you think of this latest chapter. Arthur at CastleRoland dot Net