The covenant - James A. Michener [385]
After an hour of incessant slaughter the herd reeled in confusion, whereupon the factotums rode their horses out into various parts of the plain, encouraging the beaters to accelerate their movement, and this threw a really tremendous flight of animals right past the waiting prince. Indeed, the great beasts now came so close that firing guns at them was senseless, if not impossible, for the barrels could scarcely be raised against the pressure of the animals.
This delighted Friddley, who shouted, 'Your Highness, let's use the blades!' And he took away the prince's gun, thrusting into his hand a short-handled hog-hunting spear, so sharp that Friddley had named it 'the Paget blade,' after the surgeon who attended Queen Victoria and her family. The young prince used it with some skill; he and Friddley spurred their horses and charged the stampeding beasts, stabbing at them as they roared past. Within minutes both Friddley and the prince were splattered with blood from the frequent stabbings and the fall of the animals.
The two men used their lances for the better part of an hour, with the six precautionary gunmen ranged behind them to fire in the event that some confused beast turned to threaten the royal hunter. Saltwood, without either gun or hog-spear, watched with a kind of detached horror as one great animal after another stumbled to its knees, gushing blood; at numerous times he could hold out his hand and touch the stampeding antelope sweeping past. The only danger a child would have had in that mad affair would be if it stumbled beneath the flying hooves or got in the way of some sportsman's rifle.
'Enough!' someone finally shouted, and when Saltwood got to the prince to take away the bladed-spear, he saw that he was completely covered with blood, like some inept country butcher. In the celebration that followed, one local gentleman shot off his own arm while firing a salute in honor of the heroic young visitor, and Friddley gave a stirring address of thanks to the hundreds of Bloemfontein people who had arranged the shoot: 'On this day we have slain six hundred and forty animals, each larger than a horse, plus thousands of smaller beasts we will not bother to register. Our glorious Sailor Prince proved that he is as brave on land as he is at sea, and we can assure the queen that we watched with manly pride the extreme courage he displayed when faced by the thunder of those enraged beasts. We are sorry that His Royal Highness was deprived of his lion, which we have no doubt he will confront and shoot before he leaves these shores.'
As an afterthought he added, 'This great onslaught was no willful waste of God's creatures. Our faithful Kaffirs need not go hungry this night.'
And since there was no stopping Friddley once he got going, he went on to observe: 'It was a very exciting day, and were His Royal Highness to live for a hundred years, I do not believe he could ever see such a scene again, for the game in these parts is fast disappearing.'
Prince Alfred sent his mother such a glowing account of Richard Saltwood's hospitality that when her prime minister raised a matter of importance which concerned both India and Natal, she put forward the name of the master of De Kraal, pointing out: 'Saltwood's familiar with both places. Give him the job.' And thus she granted Cupid one more chance to launch his arrows.
At the age of seventy-one Richard was approached by the Natal government on a negotiation which would require some delicacy: 'Natal's a great land for sugar, but there's damned little we can accomplish unless we find labor.'
'You've got the Zulu,' Richard said. 'Put them to work.'
'Zulu don't tame easy, old chap. Not like your Xhosa after this cattle madness. No Zulu will work in the fields; won't use his hands. Says it's undignified. Women do such work. We've brought in a couple of Chinese, but