Page 78 of Lizzie’s Spirit

Shortly thereafter, Bumper joined them, jumping up and licking their faces.

After his exuberant reunion, he took the lead, following a faint but passable trail through the scrub, which now took over from the open veld they had left behind.

Frequently, they came across the bank of the river as it meandered in a sinuous path towards the sea.

They could see no one on the opposite bank, and Elizabeth began to relax.

Perhaps their absence had yet to be noticed.

Some five miles from the village, the track descended a steep escarpment, and the terrain changed from the rolling downs of the open plateau above to a jumble of steep, scrub-covered hills.

They followed an overgrown stream that twisted and wound through narrow valleys and steep-sided gullies.

Finally, as the first hint of dawn shimmered to the east, they fell exhausted, some ten miles from the village.

She thought she could smell the saltiness of the ocean, but they were still too close to the pursuit, which she knew would follow.

Though indolent around the homestead, the Xhosa warriors would be swift—much more so than a woman recovering from childbirth and an eight-year-old girl.

The Kei River chief would be much humiliated by her fleeing, and also poorer by six and twenty cows. His wealth and prestige were determined by the number of his cattle and those of his followers—she had diminished his standing.

By midday, they had rested enough. They ate some of the millet bread and turned, once again, towards the sea.

There was no time to notice the terrain as they passed, or the changing nature of the vegetation as they came closer to the coast. The tributary streams now flowed to the southeast, away from the Bhisho River—perhaps the territory of another chief, but likely still owing allegiance to the great chief from whom they were fleeing.

There was no opportunity to turn more southwards because deep ravines lined with thick bush barred their way.

Often, the path petered out, making it difficult to distinguish an animal trail from one made by humans.

Then they would be forced to backtrack, each time fearing they would meet hostile warriors.

Late in the day, they again fell exhausted to the ground, but Elizabeth could hear, distantly, the pounding of the surf.

They were close to the sea. Perhaps their pursuers, if any, had turned back.

“Lizzie, surely we’ve got away—we’ve run so fast. Can we rest here awhile?

” They had found themselves a nice hollow, hidden away from the main track.

It was as good a place as any to take a rest. She didn’t dare light a fire, and they supped carefully from the milk Ellie had purloined and took a little more of the bread.

The millet and mealie meal needed to be boiled—so that would be left for another day.

Just before dawn, Elizabeth awoke with Bumper quietly growling, staring intently towards the path they had followed. His ears pricked. Suddenly, he ran back along the trail.

“Ellie, wake up. The warriors are nearby; we must hurry to the shore.”

Silently, she made her way back to the path. There was no trace of Bumper.

Oh, Bumper, please don’t confront them; you’re only one against their many. He had been their companion, their guardian angel, for so long. Without him, she would have been taken by spear-boy, or trampled by the bull. But again, there was nothing she could do.

She ran down the path, little Ben held close to her chest, with Ellie running behind, as fast as the wind.

Barking. Suddenly a great jabbering and shouting.

Bumper was drawing the warriors away, but it could only be a respite.

There was just one route that led to the sea.

The roaring of the surf increased; abruptly, they came to a sandy beach.

Another time, it would have been a magnificent sight.

Spread before them was a wide lagoon, home to a myriad of waterfowl.

But blocking the lagoon from the sea was an island: in truth, a great wall of towering rock.

They were trapped—to either side of the beach, now exposed by the low tide, rock-strewn spits connected the land with the island.

She could hear the cries of the warriors running down the path to the beach.

At the centre of the wall was a dark tunnel, cut by the waves and tide through to the ocean beyond, where she could see through it to the pink and orange of the dawn illuminating the distant horizon. There was only one place to go.

“Ellie, follow me. We must swim through the hole in the wall.”

She waded into the lagoon, swung the guitar case in front of her, pulled little Ben onto her shoulder, and placed the knapsack on top of the case. Ellie grabbed the straps, with the waterskin and milk bag over her shoulders.

Elizabeth pushed the case ahead, straining with all her strength.

Ellie’s feet no longer touched the sandy bottom, and she was dragged along, hanging on with grim determination.

Slowly, they made their way to the great natural cavern until the water was deeper than Elizabeth’s height.

She swam, with Ellie furiously kicking her legs.

Before them, the light of the sun glowed on the interior walls of the arch—gold and pink, mixed with the browns and reds of sandstone, and the blue-black of shale eroded by the gnawing sea.

“Ellie, hold on as tightly as you can! There’s a great wave coming through the hole. Hang onto the case; just float over the wave as it comes through.”

A lesser behemoth, not so large as that which had washed over them on the Grosvenor .

Nevertheless, a rogue wave sprung from the depths of the ocean.

With a great roar, the wave plunged towards them, trapped by the confines of the cavern—truly, isiKhaleni , a place of thunder.

The sound echoing off the walls was deafening, and the water in the tunnel instantly became a maelstrom of churning foam and lashing spray; the birds on the lagoon took flight in a great flurry of beating wings and outraged cries.

On the beach, the tribesmen shrank back as the thunderous crack and rumble of the wave crashing through the hole rolled over them.

The sea calmed, but isiKhaleni was empty.

Both Elizabeth and Eleanor were gone; the lagoon was deserted except for the dark form of a dog swimming valiantly into the mouth of the cavern.

Then, it too disappeared—back to the sea, from whence the serpent-haired water spirit, Mamlambo, and her golden-haired sister had come.