Now that this book is printed, and about to be given
to the world, a sense of its shortcomings both in
style and contents, weighs very heavily upon me.
As regards the latter, I can only say that it does
not pretend to be a full account of everything we did
and saw. There are many things connected with
our journey into Kukuanaland that I should have liked
to dwell upon at length, which, as it is, have been
scarcely alluded to. Amongst these are the curious
legends which I collected about the chain armour that
saved us from destruction in the great battle of Loo,
and also about the “Silent Ones” or Colossi
at the mouth of the stalactite cave. Again, if
I had given way to my own impulses, I should have
wished to go into the differences, some of which are
to my mind very suggestive, between the Zulu and Kukuana
dialects. Also a few pages might have been given
up profitably to the consideration of the indigenous
flora and fauna of Kukuanaland.[*] Then there remains
the most interesting subject—that, as it
is, has only been touched on incidentally—of
the magnificent system of military organisation in
force in that country, which, in my opinion, is much
superior to that inaugurated by Chaka in Zululand,
inasmuch as it permits of even more rapid mobilisation,
and does not necessitate the employment of the pernicious
system of enforced celibacy. Lastly, I have scarcely
spoken of the domestic and family customs of the Kukuanas,
many of which are exceedingly quaint, or of their
proficiency in the art of smelting and welding metals.
This science they carry to considerable perfection,
of which a good example is to be seen in their “tollas,”
or heavy throwing knives, the backs of these weapons
being made of hammered iron, and the edges of beautiful
steel welded with great skill on to the iron frames.
The fact of the matter is, I thought, with Sir Henry
Curtis and Captain Good, that the best plan would
be to tell my story in a plain, straightforward manner,
and to leave these matters to be dealt with subsequently
in whatever way ultimately may appear to be desirable.
In the meanwhile I shall, of course, be delighted
to give all information in my power to anybody interested
in such things.
[*] I discovered eight varieties of antelope, with
which I was
previously totally unacquainted,
and many new species of plants,
for the most part of the bulbous
tribe.—A.Q.
And now it only remains for me to offer apologies
for my blunt way of writing. I can but say in
excuse of it that I am more accustomed to handle a
rifle than a pen, and cannot make any pretence to the
grand literary flights and flourishes which I see
in novels—for sometimes I like to read
a novel. I suppose they—the flights
and flourishes—are desirable, and I regret
not being able to supply them; but at the same time
I cannot help thinking that simple things are always
the most impressive, and that books are easier to
understand when they are written in plain language,
though perhaps I have no right to set up an opinion
on such a matter. “A sharp spear,”
runs the Kukuana saying, “needs no polish”;
and on the same principle I venture to hope that a
true story, however strange it may be, does not require
to be decked out in fine words.
