Chapter Three.Gquma; Or, The White Waif.“A sun-child whiter than the whitest snowsWas born out of the world of sunless thingsThat round the round earth flows and ebbs and flows!”Thalassius.OneThe fish had been biting splendidly since midnight, and when at dawn we ran the boat into a little creek which branched from the main lagoon between steep, shelving, rocky banks overhung with forest, we counted out eleven “kabeljouws,” the lightest of which must have weighed fifteen pounds, while the heaviest would certainly have turned the scale at fifty.We laid them out, ’Nqalatè and I, on the smooth, cool rock shelves. The fish more recently caught were yet quivering, and the lovely pink and purple flushes still chased each other along their shining sides. ’Nqalatè, like all Kafirs, hated having to touch fish; he regarded them as water-snakes with a bad smell superimposed upon the ordinary-ophidian disadvantages. After cleansing the “kabeljouws” under my directions, he washed and re-washed his hands with great vigour; but, to judge by the expression of his face when he smelt them afterwards, the result of the scrubbing was not satisfactory.The morning was cool and bracing, and a wonderful breeze streamed in over the bar at the mouth of the lagoon, where the great ocean-rollers were thundering. A flock of wild geese arose and flew inland after their night’s feeding, uttering wild screams of delight as they soared into the sunlight, which had not yet descended upon us. Seamews and curlews wheeled around with plaintive cries. A couple of ospreys swooped down and settled on a giant euphorbia only a few yards off. Ever and anon vivid halcyons skimmed down the creek. In the forest close at hand the bush-bucks were hoarsely barking, and the guinea-fowls uttering strident cries.While my companion collected fuel, I took the kettle and forced my way through the bush to the bed of the creek at a spot above the reach of the salt water. On returning I found ’Nqalatè blowing at the fire as only a Kafir can. Lifting his head out of the smoke, he gave a sneeze, and immediately afterwards uttered the exclamation: “Gquma ’ndincede!” This struck me as peculiar. “Gquma,” pronounced “g (click) o-o-ma,” means in the Kafir language, “a roar,” such as the roar of a lion, or of the sea; in this instance I took it to mean the latter, and “’ndincede” means “help me,” or “give assistance.” After speculating upon this strange rudimentary suggestion of the widespread habit according to which divers races of men invoke their respective deities or deified ancestors after the innocuous process of sneezing, my curiosity as to how the roar of the sea came to be invoked in an apparently analogous sense prompted me to question ’Nqalatè on the subject.“Gquma, whom I invoked,” he replied, “is not the roar of the sea, but a woman of your race who lived many years ago, and whom we, the Tshomanè, look upon as the head of our tribe. You will notice that whenever a Tshomanè sneezes he calls on Gquma.”“But where did Gquma come from?” I inquired, “and why was she so called?”“Gquma,” replied ’Nqalatè, “was a white woman who came out of the sea when she was a child. She married our great chief ’Ndepa, and she and he together ruled our tribe. She was the great-grandmother of our chief Dalasilè, who died last year.”The tide was running out swiftly, and I waited impatiently for it to turn, so that I could re-commence fishing. The sun was now high, and the breeze had died down to a gentle, fragrant breath. Suddenly the water ceased running, and began to sway troublously backward and forward, lapping loudly against the rocks. Then the tide turned, up it came rushing—this strange, cold, pure, bitter spirit pulsating with the ocean’s strenuous life. Like a singing bird it was vocal with wonderful words that no man may understand; with joyful tidings from its habitations in the sea’s most secret places were its murmurs thrilling.We cast off the boat and let her drift with the current until a good anchorage was reached. Fishing usually affords large opportunities for reflection or conversation, and on this occasion ’Nqalatè related to me all he knew about Gquma, and, moreover, gave reference to certain old men of the tribe, by whom the narrative was subsequently amplified.TwoOne autumn morning early in the eighteenth century, some people of the Tshomanè clan, then occupying that portion of the coast country of what is now Pondoland, which lies immediately to the north-east of the mouth of the Unitati river, were astonished by an unwonted spectacle. The wind had been blowing strongly from the south-east for several days previously, and the sea was running high. Just outside the fringe of breakers an immense “thing” was rolling about helplessly in the ocean swell. This “thing” looked like a great fish, such as on rare occasions had been stranded in the neighbourhood, but it had a flat top from which thick, irregular stumps, like trunks of trees, protruded. Moreover, long strings and objects resembling immense mats were hanging over the sides and trailing in the water. As the rolling brought the flat surface into view, strange creatures resembling human beings could be seen moving about on it.Such an object had never been seen or heard of by the oldest man of the tribe. The people assembled in crowds and watched, dumb with astonishment. Then a shudder went through them. A faint cry repeated at regular intervals pierced the booming of the surf, and a white fabric, which swelled out as it arose, was seen to ascend the tallest of the protruding stumps. The breeze was now blowing lightly off the land.All day long the monster lay wallowing. The trailing ropes and sails were cut away, and the great East Indiaman, impelled shoreward by the swell, was just able for a time to maintain her distance from the land. The current sucked her slowly southward, and the crowd of natives silently followed along the shore. Late in the afternoon the breeze died down, and the doomed vessel rolled nearer and nearer the black rocks. Just after sundown she struck with a crashing thud, and thereupon a long wail of agony arose from those on board. Then she heeled over somewhat, and it soon appeared as though she were melting away in the water. By the time night fell, strange objects which the people feared to touch had begun to wash up; these were stranded by the receding tide. Nevertheless, the outline of the dark hull could still be faintly seen when the startled people withdrew to their homes, where they talked until far into the night, over the wonderful and unprecedented events of the day.At the first streak of dawn the people began to re-assemble on the beach. The vessel was no longer to be seen, but the strand was strewn with wreckage of every description, a quantity of which had been flung high and dry by the waves. When the sun arose the people gained confidence and scattered about examining the different articles, which were distributed over an extent of several hundred yards of beach.A shout arose, and then a rush was made to a certain spot where, in a wide cleft of the black reef, which was floored with gleaming white sand, a strange object had been discovered. Huddled against the rock on one side of the cleft lay a child, a little white girl with long yellow hair. She was clad in a light-coloured garment of a texture unknown to the natives, and around the upper part of her body were tied a number of discs of a substance resembling soft wood of little weight.The people crowded around the spot, keeping at a distance of a few yards, and gazed with astonishment at this strange creature cast up by the sea. The night had been mild and the sun was now shining warmly on the pallid child, who was breathing slowly in a swoon-like sleep. At length she opened her eyes, they were of the hue of the sky, a colour never previously seen by any of the spectators in the eyes of a human being.The gazing crowd increased, some of the people who climbed over the rocks gaining foot-hold on the higher ledges of the steep reef, and gazing eagerly over the heads of the others who were nearer. At length an old man, Gambushe, head councillor to Sango, the chief, stepped forward and lifted the little girl in his arms. She was deathly cold, and when she felt the warmth of the old man’s body she clung to him and tried to throw her arms about his neck. This, however, the discs of cork prevented her doing, so Gambushe sate her on his knee, and untied the string by which they were fastened. She then nestled her face against his shoulder. The child appeared to be quite without dread; probably she was accustomed to black faces, but in any case the terrors of the past night would, for the time being, have dulled her capacity for further fear.The kraal of Gambushe was situated in a valley behind the adjacent forest-covered sandhills which rose abruptly almost from high-water-mark, and thither he carried the worn-out child, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder. A few of the natives followed him, but the greater number remained on the shore. Their curiosity had now got the better of the dread inspired by the unprecedented events just witnessed, and they began to examine and appropriate flotsam and jetsam from the wreck. Bales, boxes, clothing, and furniture—all things unknown—were eagerly examined. The bales, on being ripped open, were found to contain silk and cotton fabrics, which struck the natives with wonder and delight.An order was sent by the chief to the effect that all the property salved was to be carried to his “great place,” which was situated about five miles away, and thither long lines of laden men, women, and children wended over the sinuous footpaths.In the afternoon dead bodies began to roll in with the curling surf, and the white, bearded faces of the drowned men struck the excited natives with fresh terror. All of the Bantu race shrink with the greatest horror from contact with a dead body, so the people drew back and gathered together in affrighted groups, to discuss the strange situation. The wind again blew freshly, and as the sea arose the dead men came in more and more thickly, some with wide-open eyes, and lips parted in a terrifying smile. Faster and faster came the bodies, until the whole beach was strewn with them. Mixed with the bodies of the Europeans were those of a number of Lascars, of whom the crew was probably largely composed.The people left off removing the wreckage, and sent to the chief for instructions. In the meantime they retired terror-stricken to their homes.Next morning the chief came down, accompanied by the witch-doctors and soothsayers of the tribe, who, with hardly dissembled dread, passed along the strand from body to body. Then they withdrew for consultation, with ashen-grey faces and trembling limbs.They came to a unanimous decision, which was communicated to a general meeting of the tribe convened next day at the “great place.” The monster that had died on the rocks amidst the white water, was one of the creatures of the sea sent to bear the little white maiden to the land of the Tshomanè. She, when old enough, was to be the “great wife” of ’Ndepa, the chief’s “great son,” then a boy of about twelve years of age. She was a daughter of the mighty ones that dwell in the sea,—her marine nature being clearly shown by her long yellow hair, which resembled nothing but sea-weed. All the dead people strewn on the beach had been her slaves; they had now been destroyed because she no longer needed them.The chief gave an order that no more property should be removed from the beach, and that the things taken before the washing up of the bodies were to be carefully preserved for the use of the white maiden. She had come to the land of the Tshomanè when the sea was raging and thundering against the black rocks, so her name, said the soothsayers, must be called “Gquma,”—“the roar of the sea.”ThreeIn those days the European was quite unknown to the Bantu of South-Eastern Africa. Rumour had vaguely told of the advent of strange men with white, bearded faces, who had conquered the “Amalawu”—the Hottentots—by means of the thunder and lightning, over which they had command. This was, however, regarded simply as one of the many semi-mythical tales which are always current among uncivilised people. Now and then, at long intervals, strange, white-winged monsters had been seen by the Tshomanè gliding over the ocean, but these appearances had been classed with meteors, eclipses of the sun and moon, and other unexplainable phenomena. Among savages the unprecedented does not occasion nearly so much astonishment as among civilised men, for the reason that the former have but a very rudimentary idea of the laws governing cause and effect. Like the early Christians, to whom the miraculous was the normal, savages assign all the many things they do not understand to the category of the magical.The explanation of the nature and the advent of the little white waif as given by the soothsayers was fully accepted. The fair-skinned, blue-eyed child with the long, shining, yellow locks was looked upon as a gracious gift from the undefined but dreadful powers that rule the world from the realm of the unseen, a creature to be fostered and cherished as a pledge of favour,—to be reverenced as an emanation from something that had its dwelling where the sea and the sky met, and that swayed the destinies of ordinary men from afar, something the less known the more awful. It must be borne in mind that the brandy-seller, the gun-runner, and the loafer had not as yet nearly destroyed all respect on the part of the native for the European.Little Gquma took with strange kindness to her new surroundings. She must have possessed one of those natures—more common among women than men—which can easily assimilate themselves to new surroundings. She was apparently about seven years of age. She talked freely, but of course her language could not be understood. One word she repeated over and over again—pointing the while to herself: “Bessie, Bessie.” This was supposed to be her name, but the one given by the soothsayers quite superseded it.Gquma remained at the kraal of Gambushe, whither all the things saved from the wreck had been carried—two large store-huts having been built for their reception. One day when one of the boxes was opened, the child caught sight of a pair of hairbrushes and a large mirror. These she at once seized, bursting into tears at the same time. She carried them away with her, and was soon afterwards seen to place the mirror standing against the side of one of the huts. Then she sat down before it, and began brushing out her long, yellow hair, speaking softly to herself the while. Every day thereafter she spent some time before the mirror, brushing her hair and sometimes weeping. In some of the other boxes other brushes were found, and these were put aside for Gquma’s use.Three white cows had been assigned from the chief’s herd for Gquma’s support, and soon afterwards a law was enacted in terms of which all pure white calves born in the Tshomane herds were regarded as “Gquma’s cattle,” and had to be delivered, when a year old, at Gambushe’s kraal. This tribute was submitted to cheerfully by the people, and it was considered a token of good fortune when a cow gave birth to a white calf. In those days virulent cattle diseases were unknown, and in a few years “Gquma’s cattle” had increased to a herd of several hundreds. The fame of “the child of the sea” spread far and wide, and people used to come great distances to see her and her wonderful herd of white cattle.The property salved from the wreck soon became destroyed by moths and damp, consequent on bad storage. In the course of a few years nothing whatever of the textile fabrics was left. At first some attempt was made to clothe Gquma in garments selected from the salved stores, but these were mostly of an ill fit, and soon she came to prefer the untrammelled nakedness of her little native companions. These always paid her the greatest deference, and acknowledged her authority without question. She quickly picked up the language of the tribe, and she appeared to be perfectly happy in her new surroundings.In the eighteenth century some of the best ideals of the age of chivalry were realised among the Bantu tribes of South-Eastern Africa. Battles were fought for honour and not for plunder; in warfare the lives of women and children were respected—prisoners were never put to death, but were held at ransom. After a battle the young men of one side would often send home their shields and spears by the attendant boys, and proceed as honoured guests to the kraals of their late adversaries. It was an age of gentle manners and generous deeds, which withered for ever when the butcher Tshaka turned the land into a shambles.The uneventful years slipped by, and the white waif grew in stature and beauty. Her favourite ornaments were cowrie and other sea-shells. Being always regarded as the child of the sea, her fondness for bathing was looked upon as appropriate and natural. On the level sandy beach which stretched for miles to the north from the reef on which the ship had been wrecked, the great rollers of the Indian Ocean swept in, thundering, and here on sunny days, Gquma with her body-guard of boys and girls would sport and swim, diving through the combers, and then looking back to see them curl over and dash with a thud on the hard smooth sand. On summer days, when the sun beat fiercely on the beach, they would spend hours on the banks of one of the many streams that trickled down through the forest, plunging every now and then into some crystal-clear, fern-fringed pool.In cold weather Gquma wore for clothing a kaross made of otter-skins, which had been tanned to the softness of silk, and sewn together cunningly with strands of sinew by an old refugee from one of the inland tribes, which excel as workers in peltries.Gquma grew to be a most lovely woman. Her skin had browned to a rich glowing tint, and the healthy, natural life she led developed her form to the highest degree of symmetry. She was never asked or expected to perform labour of any description, the Tshomanè people regarding her as one who should be left to follow her own devices. Those who sent her would show her what it was good that she should do.The one conventional practice which she continued was the brushing of her hair. Before the wreck she had evidently been taught to take care of her locks, for from the day on which she wept at seeing the hairbrushes and the mirror, she had each night and morning brushed her hair carefully. At night, before sleeping, she would twist it together, and then coil it around her neck. In the morning when she arose she would shake it out until it fell over her shoulders to below her waist. Gquma’s brushing of her hair was looked upon as a sort of rite, and the function was regarded with the deepest respect, more especially as she often wept softly during its performance.The Tshomanè clan, which is located in the ’Mqanduli district, Tembuland, is now of comparative insignificance, but in the eighteenth century it stood at the head of a tribe of considerable strength and importance. At the advent of Gquma, Sango had been chief for about four years. His “great son” was ’Ndepa, who afterwards became the husband of Gquma. Sango was a man of wisdom, who loved peace, and who kept his clan as much as possible within its own territory. ’Ndepa took after his father in character. He was about five years older than Gquma, and he married her shortly after she arrived at womanhood.At the marriage feast of Gquma the whole tribe assembled. By advice of the soothsayers the great dance took place at the sea shore, and instead of following the custom in terms of which the bride should have been led to her husband’s dwelling, Gquma and her maidens stationed themselves midway in the cleft of the black reef, where she had been tenderly delivered by the destroying waves, and thither the bridegroom went to ask his bride of the Ocean. Gifts of meat, milk, and beer were cast into the foam, and the soothsayers read the signs of the murmuring water as propitious to the union.Within a few years of the marriage Sango died, and ’Ndepa became “great chief”; but Gquma, rather than he, was looked upon as the head of the tribe.Gquma lived only for about eighteen years after her marriage. She bore to her husband two sons, the eldest of whom was called Begela, and a daughter, who was called Bessie. Begela inherited the chieftainship after the death of his father. During the lifetime of Gquma, ’Ndepa did not take another wife.Gquma died of a mysterious disorder which baffled the skill of several renowned doctors. She lay almost speechless on her mat for many days, and she became more and more emaciated. Then her mind began to wander, and her speech was ever of the sea. On the day she died she was, at her own request, carried down to the cleft in the reef. Just before she breathed her last, she called for Bessie, her daughter. The child was brought and placed at her side. The dying mother strove to speak, but was unable to do so. She partly lifted herself, and pointed across the sea with her right hand; then she turned, clasped the child to her bosom, and gave out her life with a long-drawn sigh. In the night a terrible storm arose, and the shore afterwards was found to be strewn with myriads of dead fish.When the storm subsided, Gquma’s body was carried at low tide to the extreme outside verge of the black reef. After being heavily weighted, it was cast into the sea, as also were the hairbrushes and the mirror.It was noticed that soon after Gquma returned, as all the people believed, to the ocean that had given her birth, good fortune seemed to have departed from the tribe which had acknowledged her as its honoured and beloved chief, and the insignificant remnants of which venerate her memory even at the present unromantic day.
“A sun-child whiter than the whitest snowsWas born out of the world of sunless thingsThat round the round earth flows and ebbs and flows!”Thalassius.
“A sun-child whiter than the whitest snowsWas born out of the world of sunless thingsThat round the round earth flows and ebbs and flows!”Thalassius.
The fish had been biting splendidly since midnight, and when at dawn we ran the boat into a little creek which branched from the main lagoon between steep, shelving, rocky banks overhung with forest, we counted out eleven “kabeljouws,” the lightest of which must have weighed fifteen pounds, while the heaviest would certainly have turned the scale at fifty.
We laid them out, ’Nqalatè and I, on the smooth, cool rock shelves. The fish more recently caught were yet quivering, and the lovely pink and purple flushes still chased each other along their shining sides. ’Nqalatè, like all Kafirs, hated having to touch fish; he regarded them as water-snakes with a bad smell superimposed upon the ordinary-ophidian disadvantages. After cleansing the “kabeljouws” under my directions, he washed and re-washed his hands with great vigour; but, to judge by the expression of his face when he smelt them afterwards, the result of the scrubbing was not satisfactory.
The morning was cool and bracing, and a wonderful breeze streamed in over the bar at the mouth of the lagoon, where the great ocean-rollers were thundering. A flock of wild geese arose and flew inland after their night’s feeding, uttering wild screams of delight as they soared into the sunlight, which had not yet descended upon us. Seamews and curlews wheeled around with plaintive cries. A couple of ospreys swooped down and settled on a giant euphorbia only a few yards off. Ever and anon vivid halcyons skimmed down the creek. In the forest close at hand the bush-bucks were hoarsely barking, and the guinea-fowls uttering strident cries.
While my companion collected fuel, I took the kettle and forced my way through the bush to the bed of the creek at a spot above the reach of the salt water. On returning I found ’Nqalatè blowing at the fire as only a Kafir can. Lifting his head out of the smoke, he gave a sneeze, and immediately afterwards uttered the exclamation: “Gquma ’ndincede!” This struck me as peculiar. “Gquma,” pronounced “g (click) o-o-ma,” means in the Kafir language, “a roar,” such as the roar of a lion, or of the sea; in this instance I took it to mean the latter, and “’ndincede” means “help me,” or “give assistance.” After speculating upon this strange rudimentary suggestion of the widespread habit according to which divers races of men invoke their respective deities or deified ancestors after the innocuous process of sneezing, my curiosity as to how the roar of the sea came to be invoked in an apparently analogous sense prompted me to question ’Nqalatè on the subject.
“Gquma, whom I invoked,” he replied, “is not the roar of the sea, but a woman of your race who lived many years ago, and whom we, the Tshomanè, look upon as the head of our tribe. You will notice that whenever a Tshomanè sneezes he calls on Gquma.”
“But where did Gquma come from?” I inquired, “and why was she so called?”
“Gquma,” replied ’Nqalatè, “was a white woman who came out of the sea when she was a child. She married our great chief ’Ndepa, and she and he together ruled our tribe. She was the great-grandmother of our chief Dalasilè, who died last year.”
The tide was running out swiftly, and I waited impatiently for it to turn, so that I could re-commence fishing. The sun was now high, and the breeze had died down to a gentle, fragrant breath. Suddenly the water ceased running, and began to sway troublously backward and forward, lapping loudly against the rocks. Then the tide turned, up it came rushing—this strange, cold, pure, bitter spirit pulsating with the ocean’s strenuous life. Like a singing bird it was vocal with wonderful words that no man may understand; with joyful tidings from its habitations in the sea’s most secret places were its murmurs thrilling.
We cast off the boat and let her drift with the current until a good anchorage was reached. Fishing usually affords large opportunities for reflection or conversation, and on this occasion ’Nqalatè related to me all he knew about Gquma, and, moreover, gave reference to certain old men of the tribe, by whom the narrative was subsequently amplified.
One autumn morning early in the eighteenth century, some people of the Tshomanè clan, then occupying that portion of the coast country of what is now Pondoland, which lies immediately to the north-east of the mouth of the Unitati river, were astonished by an unwonted spectacle. The wind had been blowing strongly from the south-east for several days previously, and the sea was running high. Just outside the fringe of breakers an immense “thing” was rolling about helplessly in the ocean swell. This “thing” looked like a great fish, such as on rare occasions had been stranded in the neighbourhood, but it had a flat top from which thick, irregular stumps, like trunks of trees, protruded. Moreover, long strings and objects resembling immense mats were hanging over the sides and trailing in the water. As the rolling brought the flat surface into view, strange creatures resembling human beings could be seen moving about on it.
Such an object had never been seen or heard of by the oldest man of the tribe. The people assembled in crowds and watched, dumb with astonishment. Then a shudder went through them. A faint cry repeated at regular intervals pierced the booming of the surf, and a white fabric, which swelled out as it arose, was seen to ascend the tallest of the protruding stumps. The breeze was now blowing lightly off the land.
All day long the monster lay wallowing. The trailing ropes and sails were cut away, and the great East Indiaman, impelled shoreward by the swell, was just able for a time to maintain her distance from the land. The current sucked her slowly southward, and the crowd of natives silently followed along the shore. Late in the afternoon the breeze died down, and the doomed vessel rolled nearer and nearer the black rocks. Just after sundown she struck with a crashing thud, and thereupon a long wail of agony arose from those on board. Then she heeled over somewhat, and it soon appeared as though she were melting away in the water. By the time night fell, strange objects which the people feared to touch had begun to wash up; these were stranded by the receding tide. Nevertheless, the outline of the dark hull could still be faintly seen when the startled people withdrew to their homes, where they talked until far into the night, over the wonderful and unprecedented events of the day.
At the first streak of dawn the people began to re-assemble on the beach. The vessel was no longer to be seen, but the strand was strewn with wreckage of every description, a quantity of which had been flung high and dry by the waves. When the sun arose the people gained confidence and scattered about examining the different articles, which were distributed over an extent of several hundred yards of beach.
A shout arose, and then a rush was made to a certain spot where, in a wide cleft of the black reef, which was floored with gleaming white sand, a strange object had been discovered. Huddled against the rock on one side of the cleft lay a child, a little white girl with long yellow hair. She was clad in a light-coloured garment of a texture unknown to the natives, and around the upper part of her body were tied a number of discs of a substance resembling soft wood of little weight.
The people crowded around the spot, keeping at a distance of a few yards, and gazed with astonishment at this strange creature cast up by the sea. The night had been mild and the sun was now shining warmly on the pallid child, who was breathing slowly in a swoon-like sleep. At length she opened her eyes, they were of the hue of the sky, a colour never previously seen by any of the spectators in the eyes of a human being.
The gazing crowd increased, some of the people who climbed over the rocks gaining foot-hold on the higher ledges of the steep reef, and gazing eagerly over the heads of the others who were nearer. At length an old man, Gambushe, head councillor to Sango, the chief, stepped forward and lifted the little girl in his arms. She was deathly cold, and when she felt the warmth of the old man’s body she clung to him and tried to throw her arms about his neck. This, however, the discs of cork prevented her doing, so Gambushe sate her on his knee, and untied the string by which they were fastened. She then nestled her face against his shoulder. The child appeared to be quite without dread; probably she was accustomed to black faces, but in any case the terrors of the past night would, for the time being, have dulled her capacity for further fear.
The kraal of Gambushe was situated in a valley behind the adjacent forest-covered sandhills which rose abruptly almost from high-water-mark, and thither he carried the worn-out child, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder. A few of the natives followed him, but the greater number remained on the shore. Their curiosity had now got the better of the dread inspired by the unprecedented events just witnessed, and they began to examine and appropriate flotsam and jetsam from the wreck. Bales, boxes, clothing, and furniture—all things unknown—were eagerly examined. The bales, on being ripped open, were found to contain silk and cotton fabrics, which struck the natives with wonder and delight.
An order was sent by the chief to the effect that all the property salved was to be carried to his “great place,” which was situated about five miles away, and thither long lines of laden men, women, and children wended over the sinuous footpaths.
In the afternoon dead bodies began to roll in with the curling surf, and the white, bearded faces of the drowned men struck the excited natives with fresh terror. All of the Bantu race shrink with the greatest horror from contact with a dead body, so the people drew back and gathered together in affrighted groups, to discuss the strange situation. The wind again blew freshly, and as the sea arose the dead men came in more and more thickly, some with wide-open eyes, and lips parted in a terrifying smile. Faster and faster came the bodies, until the whole beach was strewn with them. Mixed with the bodies of the Europeans were those of a number of Lascars, of whom the crew was probably largely composed.
The people left off removing the wreckage, and sent to the chief for instructions. In the meantime they retired terror-stricken to their homes.
Next morning the chief came down, accompanied by the witch-doctors and soothsayers of the tribe, who, with hardly dissembled dread, passed along the strand from body to body. Then they withdrew for consultation, with ashen-grey faces and trembling limbs.
They came to a unanimous decision, which was communicated to a general meeting of the tribe convened next day at the “great place.” The monster that had died on the rocks amidst the white water, was one of the creatures of the sea sent to bear the little white maiden to the land of the Tshomanè. She, when old enough, was to be the “great wife” of ’Ndepa, the chief’s “great son,” then a boy of about twelve years of age. She was a daughter of the mighty ones that dwell in the sea,—her marine nature being clearly shown by her long yellow hair, which resembled nothing but sea-weed. All the dead people strewn on the beach had been her slaves; they had now been destroyed because she no longer needed them.
The chief gave an order that no more property should be removed from the beach, and that the things taken before the washing up of the bodies were to be carefully preserved for the use of the white maiden. She had come to the land of the Tshomanè when the sea was raging and thundering against the black rocks, so her name, said the soothsayers, must be called “Gquma,”—“the roar of the sea.”
In those days the European was quite unknown to the Bantu of South-Eastern Africa. Rumour had vaguely told of the advent of strange men with white, bearded faces, who had conquered the “Amalawu”—the Hottentots—by means of the thunder and lightning, over which they had command. This was, however, regarded simply as one of the many semi-mythical tales which are always current among uncivilised people. Now and then, at long intervals, strange, white-winged monsters had been seen by the Tshomanè gliding over the ocean, but these appearances had been classed with meteors, eclipses of the sun and moon, and other unexplainable phenomena. Among savages the unprecedented does not occasion nearly so much astonishment as among civilised men, for the reason that the former have but a very rudimentary idea of the laws governing cause and effect. Like the early Christians, to whom the miraculous was the normal, savages assign all the many things they do not understand to the category of the magical.
The explanation of the nature and the advent of the little white waif as given by the soothsayers was fully accepted. The fair-skinned, blue-eyed child with the long, shining, yellow locks was looked upon as a gracious gift from the undefined but dreadful powers that rule the world from the realm of the unseen, a creature to be fostered and cherished as a pledge of favour,—to be reverenced as an emanation from something that had its dwelling where the sea and the sky met, and that swayed the destinies of ordinary men from afar, something the less known the more awful. It must be borne in mind that the brandy-seller, the gun-runner, and the loafer had not as yet nearly destroyed all respect on the part of the native for the European.
Little Gquma took with strange kindness to her new surroundings. She must have possessed one of those natures—more common among women than men—which can easily assimilate themselves to new surroundings. She was apparently about seven years of age. She talked freely, but of course her language could not be understood. One word she repeated over and over again—pointing the while to herself: “Bessie, Bessie.” This was supposed to be her name, but the one given by the soothsayers quite superseded it.
Gquma remained at the kraal of Gambushe, whither all the things saved from the wreck had been carried—two large store-huts having been built for their reception. One day when one of the boxes was opened, the child caught sight of a pair of hairbrushes and a large mirror. These she at once seized, bursting into tears at the same time. She carried them away with her, and was soon afterwards seen to place the mirror standing against the side of one of the huts. Then she sat down before it, and began brushing out her long, yellow hair, speaking softly to herself the while. Every day thereafter she spent some time before the mirror, brushing her hair and sometimes weeping. In some of the other boxes other brushes were found, and these were put aside for Gquma’s use.
Three white cows had been assigned from the chief’s herd for Gquma’s support, and soon afterwards a law was enacted in terms of which all pure white calves born in the Tshomane herds were regarded as “Gquma’s cattle,” and had to be delivered, when a year old, at Gambushe’s kraal. This tribute was submitted to cheerfully by the people, and it was considered a token of good fortune when a cow gave birth to a white calf. In those days virulent cattle diseases were unknown, and in a few years “Gquma’s cattle” had increased to a herd of several hundreds. The fame of “the child of the sea” spread far and wide, and people used to come great distances to see her and her wonderful herd of white cattle.
The property salved from the wreck soon became destroyed by moths and damp, consequent on bad storage. In the course of a few years nothing whatever of the textile fabrics was left. At first some attempt was made to clothe Gquma in garments selected from the salved stores, but these were mostly of an ill fit, and soon she came to prefer the untrammelled nakedness of her little native companions. These always paid her the greatest deference, and acknowledged her authority without question. She quickly picked up the language of the tribe, and she appeared to be perfectly happy in her new surroundings.
In the eighteenth century some of the best ideals of the age of chivalry were realised among the Bantu tribes of South-Eastern Africa. Battles were fought for honour and not for plunder; in warfare the lives of women and children were respected—prisoners were never put to death, but were held at ransom. After a battle the young men of one side would often send home their shields and spears by the attendant boys, and proceed as honoured guests to the kraals of their late adversaries. It was an age of gentle manners and generous deeds, which withered for ever when the butcher Tshaka turned the land into a shambles.
The uneventful years slipped by, and the white waif grew in stature and beauty. Her favourite ornaments were cowrie and other sea-shells. Being always regarded as the child of the sea, her fondness for bathing was looked upon as appropriate and natural. On the level sandy beach which stretched for miles to the north from the reef on which the ship had been wrecked, the great rollers of the Indian Ocean swept in, thundering, and here on sunny days, Gquma with her body-guard of boys and girls would sport and swim, diving through the combers, and then looking back to see them curl over and dash with a thud on the hard smooth sand. On summer days, when the sun beat fiercely on the beach, they would spend hours on the banks of one of the many streams that trickled down through the forest, plunging every now and then into some crystal-clear, fern-fringed pool.
In cold weather Gquma wore for clothing a kaross made of otter-skins, which had been tanned to the softness of silk, and sewn together cunningly with strands of sinew by an old refugee from one of the inland tribes, which excel as workers in peltries.
Gquma grew to be a most lovely woman. Her skin had browned to a rich glowing tint, and the healthy, natural life she led developed her form to the highest degree of symmetry. She was never asked or expected to perform labour of any description, the Tshomanè people regarding her as one who should be left to follow her own devices. Those who sent her would show her what it was good that she should do.
The one conventional practice which she continued was the brushing of her hair. Before the wreck she had evidently been taught to take care of her locks, for from the day on which she wept at seeing the hairbrushes and the mirror, she had each night and morning brushed her hair carefully. At night, before sleeping, she would twist it together, and then coil it around her neck. In the morning when she arose she would shake it out until it fell over her shoulders to below her waist. Gquma’s brushing of her hair was looked upon as a sort of rite, and the function was regarded with the deepest respect, more especially as she often wept softly during its performance.
The Tshomanè clan, which is located in the ’Mqanduli district, Tembuland, is now of comparative insignificance, but in the eighteenth century it stood at the head of a tribe of considerable strength and importance. At the advent of Gquma, Sango had been chief for about four years. His “great son” was ’Ndepa, who afterwards became the husband of Gquma. Sango was a man of wisdom, who loved peace, and who kept his clan as much as possible within its own territory. ’Ndepa took after his father in character. He was about five years older than Gquma, and he married her shortly after she arrived at womanhood.
At the marriage feast of Gquma the whole tribe assembled. By advice of the soothsayers the great dance took place at the sea shore, and instead of following the custom in terms of which the bride should have been led to her husband’s dwelling, Gquma and her maidens stationed themselves midway in the cleft of the black reef, where she had been tenderly delivered by the destroying waves, and thither the bridegroom went to ask his bride of the Ocean. Gifts of meat, milk, and beer were cast into the foam, and the soothsayers read the signs of the murmuring water as propitious to the union.
Within a few years of the marriage Sango died, and ’Ndepa became “great chief”; but Gquma, rather than he, was looked upon as the head of the tribe.
Gquma lived only for about eighteen years after her marriage. She bore to her husband two sons, the eldest of whom was called Begela, and a daughter, who was called Bessie. Begela inherited the chieftainship after the death of his father. During the lifetime of Gquma, ’Ndepa did not take another wife.
Gquma died of a mysterious disorder which baffled the skill of several renowned doctors. She lay almost speechless on her mat for many days, and she became more and more emaciated. Then her mind began to wander, and her speech was ever of the sea. On the day she died she was, at her own request, carried down to the cleft in the reef. Just before she breathed her last, she called for Bessie, her daughter. The child was brought and placed at her side. The dying mother strove to speak, but was unable to do so. She partly lifted herself, and pointed across the sea with her right hand; then she turned, clasped the child to her bosom, and gave out her life with a long-drawn sigh. In the night a terrible storm arose, and the shore afterwards was found to be strewn with myriads of dead fish.
When the storm subsided, Gquma’s body was carried at low tide to the extreme outside verge of the black reef. After being heavily weighted, it was cast into the sea, as also were the hairbrushes and the mirror.
It was noticed that soon after Gquma returned, as all the people believed, to the ocean that had given her birth, good fortune seemed to have departed from the tribe which had acknowledged her as its honoured and beloved chief, and the insignificant remnants of which venerate her memory even at the present unromantic day.
Chapter Four.The Tramp’s Tragedy.“Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine.”—MatthewVII, 6.“From Durban, sir. Been a matter of three weeks on the road. Left my mate at Kokstad, where he ’listed in the Cape Mounted Rifles. Wouldn’t have me because I was half-an-inch too short, and a matter of fifteen years too old.“Yes, looking for a job now, same as lots of others. You’re right, sir, timesismortal hard. I tramped all the way down to Durban from Johannesburg. No one, barring a black, can get taken on there now. Twenty years ago this was something of a white man’s country;—’tisn’t no more.“Yes, it’s my own fault; ’most everything that happens to man is, barring good luck, and that’s often sent special by the devil for the sake of what comes afterwards. Drink? well,thatof course. When a man has been tramping all day long in the hot sun, and then lies down so tired and blistered that he can’t sleep, but lies thinking of the chances he has lost and the things he has done, small blame to him if he buys threepenn’orth of forgetfulness, even if itisanother nail in his coffin. Another nail! As if any more were wanted. I tell you, sir, most of us tramps are dead and damned long ago, and any parson will tell you that when a man’s damned there’s no hope for him.“Drink? all sorts. ‘Cape Smoke’ is bad, and Natal rum is worse, but of all the brews to rot the inside out of a man, Transvaal brandy takes the cake. But I will say this for it: a bottle goes mortal far. I’ve seen more than one man killed by a single bottle, through drinking it too quick on an empty stomach. But I’m too tough; that sort of thing won’t finish me.“Let’s see. I first took to the road twenty years ago, just after the alluvial petered out at old ‘Pilgrim’s,’ and I’ve been on it ever since pretty well, except for a few years in the Transvaal when I was working on the Boers’ farms before the war, helping them to build. I’m a mason by trade; leastwise I never was in my articles, but I picked it up natural like. I used to get a job that would keep me on a farm sometimes for two or three months, and when I got my money, swag it to the nearest town. Then drunk for a fortnight, and the road again until I’d found another job.”(“Pilgrim’s Rest,” an alluvial gold-field in the north of the Transvaal, rushed in 1873.)“Well, I suppose ’most every man has something special to look back upon; mine, I never talk about. However, you’ve given me a good feed and a shake-down, and you don’t seem to suspect I’m going to try and steal your spoons or cut your throat, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you about it; anyhow I’ll try. Just let me light my pipe, and then you sit sideways so’s you can’t see my face, and I’ll be able to talk better.“It came about this way: me and a mate left ‘Pilgrim’s’ together, meaning to tramp to Kimberley, but of course we had to get work on the road. I was just twenty-four years old, and as strong as a horse. I’d not been drinking long, and you couldn’t see by me that I’d ever touched a drop.“At Lydenburg we met a Dutchman who told us of a farm about two days’ journey away, where there was some building wanting to be done, so for there we started. The place was a little way off our course to the right, but that didn’t matter. Well, we reached it on the second day, and we were at once taken on. The Boer wanted a ‘lean-to’ built, and the bricks and mortar were ready. The man who’d agreed to do the job had hurt his hand and been obliged to go away to a doctor, so the Boer was right glad to see us.“You know, sir, what life is like on a Boer’s farm—coffee and biscuit first thing in the morning, early dinner of meat and pumpkin, and late supper of bread and dripping; lots of coffee, of course, in between. This Boer was a good sort and treated us well. We took the job on as a piece, so we worked hard. We grubbed with the family, listened without understanding a word when the old man read the Bible and prayed, and helped them (leastwise I did) to sing hymns. I soon began to pick up a little of their lingo, learning a few words every day, but my mate didn’t know a word of it, and wouldn’t learn.“There were lots of children, mostly small, and a young nephew of the old woman’s who lived in the house. His name was Jacob, and he’d long, black hair and a cock-eye. The two eldest children were boys, and the next one was a girl of twelve. She and I became great chums. She used to come out and sit near where I was at work, asking questions about the bricks and mortar, and teaching me Dutch words. She used to laugh like the dickens at my way of saying them. Often, when visitors came, or when the old woman made coffee between meals, as she did three or four times a day, Hessie (that was her name) would bring me out a cup, and watch me drink it. She didn’t like my mate, who was a surly old bear, so she would never bring him any, and if I gave him a swig out of mine, she’d get as mad as cats, and swear she’d never bring me any more.“Sometimes she’d ask me all about my people, and get me to describe the place I’d come from. To hear me describing Manchester in my Dutch would have made a cow laugh. She’d want to know all sorts of things, whether I’d any sisters, and what they were like, and if I’d a sweetheart, and whether I’d ever come back again to the farm after the job was finished. She always used to call me ‘Vellum.’“Well, the job was finished at last, and me and my mate left the farm with about ten pound each, meaning to go straight to Kimberley. Hessie took on a powerful lot when I said good-bye to her, crying and sobbing. I was very sorry to say good-bye too, and I sent her back a present of a red leather belt with a big steel buckle from Middleburg, where we dossed down the first night after leaving the farm.“I don’t know how it was, but although I met four or five of my old chums, I never touched a drop of drink at Middleburg, and what’s more, I didn’t want to. My mate wanted to, sure enough, but I wouldn’t let him; and to be quite safe we went and slept just outside the town, where we couldn’t see the lights in the bars, nor hear the boys shouting.“Next morning we started for Pretoria, and there we both got on the bend. In a week all our money was spent, and we were then kicked out of the hotel. Next day me and my mate got blaming each other, and it ended in my giving him a most almighty hammering, after which we parted.“I hung about Pretoria for a while, loafing mostly, and doing odd jobs. Then I got work in the country again, and when it was finished, went back to Pretoria and drunk out what I’d made. This sort of thing went on for about five years—a few months’ work at which I’d earn a bit of money—then a couple of weeks’ spree. After this a loaf around looking for jobs and picking up whatever I could get.“You’re right, sir, sometimes I was in very low water. I’ve lived with the niggers in the locations at the lower end of Pretoria, and I’ve seen some queer sights. I lay ill in a hut there once for three months, and never had a doctor near me; a woman just physicked me with roots, and did me a power of good. When I got better I swore off drink for the twentieth time, and then, as luck would have it, I dropped on a Dutchman who wanted a house built. He lent me a couple of pound to buy clothes with, and then loaded me up on his wagon and took me to his farm, which was not very far from Middleburg.“After the job, which took me four months, was finished, instead of going back to Pretoria I thought I’d drop round and see how little Hessie and the others on the farm where I’d got my first job over five years ago, were getting on. I’d more than twenty pound in my pocket, and as I’d nearly died through spreeing after I was sick a few months back, I made up my mind to keep on the straight, at all events for some little time to come.“So I bought an old pony and a secondhand saddle from the man I’d been working for, and then I rode into Middleburg, where I got a bran-new rig-out at one of the stores. Next day I went on to Hessie’s farm. The old man and the old woman were away visiting, and the children, who were nearly all standing outside, had grown so that I hardly knew one of them. It seemed funny that none of them knew me from a crow.“I just hitched my horse on to a stake, and went straight up to the front door. Not one of the children had recognised me, so they just lolled about and took no notice, same as Dutch children pretty nigh always does. The door was open, but I knocked, meaning to ask for Hessie, and after I’d seen her and got a cup of coffee, to go back to Middleburg. Just then, after I’d knocked, there came down the passage a tall, strapping young woman with the prettiest face I’d ever seen. She shook hands same as the Dutch always do with strangers that come on horseback, and asked me to come inside, so inside I came. I sat down on the old ‘bank’ (sofa) with the straight back and the bottom of crossed thongs, that looked just as if no one had sat on it since I’d left the farm, and then I began to ask the young woman about Hessie. When she heard my voice she gave a start, and then jumped up and called out in her own language: ‘Why it’s Vellum,’ so it turned out to be Hessie after all. She just ran at me, holding out both her hands, and laughing and blushing. Well, in less than no time I was talking to her about all sorts of things, and drinking cups of coffee as hard as ever I could. I could now speak Dutch quite well, but she’d hardly give me a chance to speak at all, being so full of questions, and asking another before I’d had time to answer the one. She was a wonderful pretty girl—very plump, with brown eyes and hair, and rosy cheeks. I’d never have known her again. She kept saying she wondered how it was she’d not known me, and then she’d get quite sad like, and say she thought I looked terrible old, and asked me if I’d had lots of trouble. I said yes, and then she pressed me to tell her what my trouble was. I told her a long yarn about my father and mother having died, and myself having been laid up for three months with fever (which was my name for the ‘rats,’ and worse). I felt so bad at deceiving her, that I was sorry I’d come back. All at once she jumped up and ran out of the room. When she returned her cheeks were very red, and her eyes bright. After a while I noticed that she had put on the belt I’d sent her long ago as a good-bye gift, and then that it was still nearly new. Then she called in her brothers and sisters, and we all shook hands, and they made me welcome all round.“Well, she made me off-saddle my horse, and would hear of nothing but that I must stay for the night. It was just a piece of luck my finding any one at the farm, because the old man was preparing to shift to another farm up near Lydenburg, which he had bought. That evening we sat up late in the ‘voorhuis’ (parlour), and talked to one another long after every one else had gone to bed. Hessie told me all about herself, how she had missed me, and how she used to wonder where I was, and whether we’d ever meet again.“I lay that night, not in the little outside room that I’d used before, but in the big strangers’ room, where there was a four-poster with a feather-bed so thick and soft that a bigger man than me might have got lost in it. Will you believe me, sir, when I tell you that I didn’t sleep a wink? I just lay awake thinking of the life I’d been leading and the things I’d done, and feeling as if I’d made everything I touched dirty. Then the way I’d had to lie to the girl made me feel so hot that I’d to kick off all the blankets, and that ashamed, that if I’d known where to find my saddle and bridle I’d have stole out and cleared.“Next day the old man and the old woman turned up, and right glad they were to see me, too. They said I must stay on for a spell. Then the old man remembered that he wanted some building done at the other farm, so he asked me to go there with them and take on another job. This I agreed to do, and Hessie was that glad, her eyes just danced.“In about a fortnight’s time we packed the wagons and started for the new farm, which lay in the mountains about fifteen miles, just as the crow flies, to the westward of Lydenburg. We reached there in four days, and I began building at once with bricks from some old walls which we broke down. There was a sort of a shanty already standing, but the old man wanted a bran-new house put up, and I took on the contract to do the mason-work, assisted by his boys. What with brick-burning and laying the foundation, it promised to be a six months’ job.“I just lived with the family like in the old days, only friendlier. Hessie could not do enough for me, and talked and went on with me just like she used to as a child. By and by this young woman’s fondness began to make me feel queer. I was very fond of her, too, but a bit afraid of her at the same time; she was so mortal good and innocent, and the worst of it was she believed me to be the same. Many’s the time I’ve been sorrowful for days together through thinking of my past life, and wishing it had been different. Supposing I’d kept on the straight those five years, I might perhaps have put by enough money to buy a little farm, and then have married Hessie; for the old man liked me and would, I’m pretty sure, have helped us with some stock. These thoughts used to worry me more and more; it was just terrible to think of the chance I’d lost. And then the girl got fonder and fonder of me, and used to look sad when I’d keep out of her way, as I often did for two or three days at a spell.“No, I never once thought of trying, as you say, ‘to live down the past,’ and marry her. You see, I couldn’t. There were good reasons against it. I’ve not told you half about the life I led those five years. Drink alone was enough. I knew that sometimes when the thirst for lush took me, nothing on earth would keep me from drinking. Once I went to Lydenburg where I was not known, and stayed a week just because I felt I must go on the bend. I was drunk on the quiet for three days in a back room of the hotel, and then I stayed four days sober before returning, so as to let the signs work off. But there was worse than the drink...“After I’d been on the farm about six months, young Jacob, the old woman’s nephew, turned up. He had been away down colony for nearly a year. Jacob had grown into a long, thin, slouching galoot with a yellow face and a live-long-day scowl. His squint made him seem to be always looking round the corner. He, it turned out, had asked Hessie to marry him just before I’d conic back, and she’d not said no, nor yet yes, to him; but just that she wanted to wait a bit, and that she’d see when lie returned from the colony. I soon saw that Jacob was hot spoons on Hessie, and dreadful jealous of me. For a while I enjoyed making him mad, but when I saw how bad he looked I got sorry for him, and tried to avoid the girl. Thenshebegan to look miserable, and, I can’t tell you, what with one thing and another, I didn’t just know where I was.“One day, just about a month before I expected the job to be finished, I was standing by myself working at pointing the foundation, when who should come round the corner but Hessie. She sat down on a stone close by. ‘Vellum,’ says she, ‘Jacob has again been asking me to marry him, and I’ve told him I won’t.’ ‘But,’ says I, ‘why don’t you marry him, Hessie? he’s got a good farm, and I’m sure he’s fond enough of you.’“When I’d begun speaking I’d my face towards my work, and just when I stopped I turned to look at Hessie. She was leaning forward with her mouth half-open and her cheeks pale. For a while she didn’t speak. Then she gave a gulp and said, breathing hard: ‘Oh, Vellum, is it you who says that to me?’ I felt that sorry, I could have cut my throat. I knew now that I loved the girl as I’d never loved any one else, and here she was offering herself to me and I couldn’t take the gift. I cursed my own folly again only hotter, and what with one thought and another, I clean forgot for a few moments where I was, and that Hessie was there.“When I looked round again Hessie was still staring at me, and then the thought came to tell her a lie which would hurt a bit at first, but do her good in the end. So I just said in a sort of jokey way: ‘Why, Hessie, if I weren’t a married man I’d think you were in love with me.’“At that she gave a start and another gulp and said: ‘Are you truly a married man, Vellum?’ Well, thinks I, it’s no use turning back now, so I said: ‘Yes, Hessie; didn’t you know I’ve been married four years, and that my wife has gone to stay with her people at Potchefstrom?’ At this she just stood up, and walked away.“Well, thinks I to myself, the sooner I’m out of this the better; but of course I couldn’t leave before my job was finished. I saw very little of Hessie now except at table. She went about very pale, and never once looked me in the eye, for which I was very thankful. Not many days after our talk, the old man told me she’d promised to marry Jacob, who, all the same, seemed to scowl worse than ever, and looked as mean as a rotten banana.“As bad luck would have it, no sooner was my contract finished than the war with the English broke out. Then Lydenburg was in a state of siege, so I couldn’t get away. After a while a lot of Boers trecked on to the farm, and formed a ‘laager’ there. Then a commandant came from near Pretoria, and took charge. This happened to be a man who’d often enough seen me blind drunk in the streets between my spells of work. I’d done a job for him, too, and he’d humbugged me out of two pound ten. I felt sure he’d told my old man all about me, but beyond looking a bit strange for a day or two, it made no difference in him or in the old woman—they were just as kind as ever. But all the other Boers looked very sour at me, and would never answer when I’d speak to them.“Jacob had a cousin who was a parson—and the dead spit of him—right down to the squint and the scowl. He was what they called a ‘dopper,’ (a South African Calvinist), which means in parsons one who sings very slowly, and speaks through his nose. This chap came one Sunday and preached to the Boers. His sermon was all about some folks called the Amalekites, and a chap called Agag, and that the Lord’s chosen people must hew to pieces all folks who weren’t chosen. He also told them they were to be careful of spies, and he talked a lot about wolves in sheep’s clothing. I was a long way off, but he ramped and shouted so loud, I could hear it all.“Next day the old man told me on the quiet that I was suspected of being a spy, and that my life was in clanger. I told him this was ridiculous, because I’d been on the farm for months before the war began, and had no friends outside the ‘laager.’ He said he knew this, but that all the others were against me, and I must be careful.“A couple of days after this the old man told me I’d have to clear out without further delay, because all the other Boers hated me like poison, and they meant to try me by court-martial for being a spy, and perhaps shoot me. He said that Jacob would take me away on horseback that night, and then I could lie by during the following day, and make my way to the English lines at Lydenburg when it got dark again. Just after midnight we were to creep away to a bush where our horses would be tied, and ride on from there. The old man gave me twenty-five pounds, which was all the money he had by him, and said he would send me the balance when the war was over, and I’d given him my address.“That night I went into my room, and pretended to go to bed as usual. I just put my few little things together, and then I blew out the candle and sat waiting in the dark, feeling very lonesome and uneasy.“By and by I heard a light tap at the door, so I opened it, and there I found Hessie with a Hottentot servant-girl named Griet, who used to wash my clothes. They came in on tip-toe, shut the door, and then Hessie drew me to one side and whispered very softly: ‘Vellum,’ says she, ‘you must do what I tell you now, quickly, and ask no questions.’ ‘All right, Hessie,’ says I, ‘what am I to do?’ ‘You must go into that corner of the room and take off all your clothes, and I will do the same in the opposite one. Then Griet will bring yours to me and mine to you, which you must put on. Do this at once, and then I will tell you the rest.’“I could tell from the girl’s way of speaking that she was very much in earnest, so without saying anything I just went into the corner and took off my clothes. In a few moments Griet carried them away, and brought me Hessie’s, which I put on. They fitted me quite well.“Just then Hessie stepped out of her corner and came to me in the dark. ‘Now, Vellum,’ says she, ‘just go with Griet, and when she tells you, steal out of the “laager” and follow her. Then walk as quickly as you can along the Lydenburg road until daybreak, when you must hide in the bush until night comes again. From there you can easily reach the Lydenburg “laager” before next morning.’“She then took my two hands and pressed them very hard. ‘Vellum,’ says she, ‘we will never meet again; think kindly of me, for I love you very dearly.’ She then let go my hands, and put her arms around my neck. ‘Good-bye, Vellum,’ says she, ‘give that to your wife when you see her,’ and then she gave me a long, loving kiss. Then she and Griet left the room together, before I’d been able to say a word.“Now that I knew I’d never see Hessie again, I felt more knocked of a heap than I’d ever felt in my life, and hot with shame at the lie I’d let her go away believing. I sat in the room and waited for about an hour, feeling quite queer in Hessie’s clothes, and liking to feel that what now touched me had touched her that was so good, and wondering whether, if I escaped, I’d have the grit in me to try and be a better man for her sake. I had a big ‘cappie’ on, which quite covered my face. I kept wondering why the plan for getting me away had been changed; but I guessed Hessie had some good reason for what she’d done.“Then Griet came in and told me to follow her quickly. We went out by the front door. She was barefoot, and I just in my socks, and carrying my boots. We crept round the house in the shadow of the wall, and stole down the garden, which was long and narrow, with quince hedges on each side. We crossed a stream of water at the other end, and then walked quickly up the hill opposite, until we came to the road, along which we went as hard as we could. Then I wanted to put on my boots, so we turned a bit out of the road, and sat down under a bush.“Griet then said she’d go back, so I gave her half-a-sovereign for herself, and my kind love and thanks to take to Hessie. Griet told me I was to listen for a horse’s footsteps, and when I heard this, to take cover until the horseman had passed. Griet then said ‘Good-bye, Boss,’ and we shook hands, and she went back.“I walked along the road as quick as I could, and after going for about a quarter of an hour I heard a shot far ahead. This gave me a bit of a start, but I knew there was nothing for it but to keep my ears and eyes open, and go straight on, so straight on I went.“Soon after this, I heard the sound of horses’ feet coming on in front, so I just went a few yards out of the road, and lay down among some rocks. In a few minutes a man rode past leading a horse by the bridle. This was Jacob, and he was laughing to himself quite loud. After passing me by a few yards, he stopped and dismounted. Then he let go the horse he had been leading, and gave it a heavy kick in the stomach. The horse just trotted away a few yards and began to feed. Jacob mounted again and rode on, still laughing. I tried to think what all this meant, but it got over me altogether. The last thing I heard of him was his laugh. What made it so queer was that I’d never heard him laugh before.“After Jacob had got well past I went over to the horse, which was still feeding, and found it was my old moke, ready saddled-up. Here, thinks I, is a bit of luck; so I got on him and rode away, taking it easy, for I knew I could not reach Lydenburg that night, and I meant just to overhaul a gully full of scrub that I knew of about ten miles ahead, and where I could lie by next day.“As I was going slowly along, my old horse began to cock his ears and snort, and then he gave a shy that nearly threw me out of the saddle. I looked, and saw something lying just at the side of the road. It was not a very dark night; there was no moon, but the stars could be seen every now and then through the flying scud. Seeing that the thing lay quite still, I got off to look more closely at it. I found it was a dead body... I at once thought of the shot and of Jacob’s laugh. I noticed a big slouch hat lying alongside, which somehow reminded me of my own.“I laid my hand on the body, and found that it was quite warm. I felt farther and found... My God!... It was Hessie!“She was quite dead, shot from behind through the back and chest... I was standing in a puddle of her blood... I saw it all now. That damnable scoundrel Jacob had brought her out here and shot her, thinking it was me. She had found out his meaning in offering to take me away, and come and died in my place...“So now you can see, sir, why it is of no use your talking to me of ‘turning over a new leaf,’ and ‘leading a different life.’ I’m sick and tired of everything, and I’ll be a drunken tramp until I die in a ditch.“When the war was over I went back to look for Jacob and kill him at sight. But the devil had got the best of me. Jacob’s neck had been broken by the capsizing of a wagon... I often hear that laugh of his... Some day I’ll hear it in hell.”
“Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine.”—MatthewVII, 6.
“Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine.”—MatthewVII, 6.
“From Durban, sir. Been a matter of three weeks on the road. Left my mate at Kokstad, where he ’listed in the Cape Mounted Rifles. Wouldn’t have me because I was half-an-inch too short, and a matter of fifteen years too old.
“Yes, looking for a job now, same as lots of others. You’re right, sir, timesismortal hard. I tramped all the way down to Durban from Johannesburg. No one, barring a black, can get taken on there now. Twenty years ago this was something of a white man’s country;—’tisn’t no more.
“Yes, it’s my own fault; ’most everything that happens to man is, barring good luck, and that’s often sent special by the devil for the sake of what comes afterwards. Drink? well,thatof course. When a man has been tramping all day long in the hot sun, and then lies down so tired and blistered that he can’t sleep, but lies thinking of the chances he has lost and the things he has done, small blame to him if he buys threepenn’orth of forgetfulness, even if itisanother nail in his coffin. Another nail! As if any more were wanted. I tell you, sir, most of us tramps are dead and damned long ago, and any parson will tell you that when a man’s damned there’s no hope for him.
“Drink? all sorts. ‘Cape Smoke’ is bad, and Natal rum is worse, but of all the brews to rot the inside out of a man, Transvaal brandy takes the cake. But I will say this for it: a bottle goes mortal far. I’ve seen more than one man killed by a single bottle, through drinking it too quick on an empty stomach. But I’m too tough; that sort of thing won’t finish me.
“Let’s see. I first took to the road twenty years ago, just after the alluvial petered out at old ‘Pilgrim’s,’ and I’ve been on it ever since pretty well, except for a few years in the Transvaal when I was working on the Boers’ farms before the war, helping them to build. I’m a mason by trade; leastwise I never was in my articles, but I picked it up natural like. I used to get a job that would keep me on a farm sometimes for two or three months, and when I got my money, swag it to the nearest town. Then drunk for a fortnight, and the road again until I’d found another job.”
(“Pilgrim’s Rest,” an alluvial gold-field in the north of the Transvaal, rushed in 1873.)
“Well, I suppose ’most every man has something special to look back upon; mine, I never talk about. However, you’ve given me a good feed and a shake-down, and you don’t seem to suspect I’m going to try and steal your spoons or cut your throat, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you about it; anyhow I’ll try. Just let me light my pipe, and then you sit sideways so’s you can’t see my face, and I’ll be able to talk better.
“It came about this way: me and a mate left ‘Pilgrim’s’ together, meaning to tramp to Kimberley, but of course we had to get work on the road. I was just twenty-four years old, and as strong as a horse. I’d not been drinking long, and you couldn’t see by me that I’d ever touched a drop.
“At Lydenburg we met a Dutchman who told us of a farm about two days’ journey away, where there was some building wanting to be done, so for there we started. The place was a little way off our course to the right, but that didn’t matter. Well, we reached it on the second day, and we were at once taken on. The Boer wanted a ‘lean-to’ built, and the bricks and mortar were ready. The man who’d agreed to do the job had hurt his hand and been obliged to go away to a doctor, so the Boer was right glad to see us.
“You know, sir, what life is like on a Boer’s farm—coffee and biscuit first thing in the morning, early dinner of meat and pumpkin, and late supper of bread and dripping; lots of coffee, of course, in between. This Boer was a good sort and treated us well. We took the job on as a piece, so we worked hard. We grubbed with the family, listened without understanding a word when the old man read the Bible and prayed, and helped them (leastwise I did) to sing hymns. I soon began to pick up a little of their lingo, learning a few words every day, but my mate didn’t know a word of it, and wouldn’t learn.
“There were lots of children, mostly small, and a young nephew of the old woman’s who lived in the house. His name was Jacob, and he’d long, black hair and a cock-eye. The two eldest children were boys, and the next one was a girl of twelve. She and I became great chums. She used to come out and sit near where I was at work, asking questions about the bricks and mortar, and teaching me Dutch words. She used to laugh like the dickens at my way of saying them. Often, when visitors came, or when the old woman made coffee between meals, as she did three or four times a day, Hessie (that was her name) would bring me out a cup, and watch me drink it. She didn’t like my mate, who was a surly old bear, so she would never bring him any, and if I gave him a swig out of mine, she’d get as mad as cats, and swear she’d never bring me any more.
“Sometimes she’d ask me all about my people, and get me to describe the place I’d come from. To hear me describing Manchester in my Dutch would have made a cow laugh. She’d want to know all sorts of things, whether I’d any sisters, and what they were like, and if I’d a sweetheart, and whether I’d ever come back again to the farm after the job was finished. She always used to call me ‘Vellum.’
“Well, the job was finished at last, and me and my mate left the farm with about ten pound each, meaning to go straight to Kimberley. Hessie took on a powerful lot when I said good-bye to her, crying and sobbing. I was very sorry to say good-bye too, and I sent her back a present of a red leather belt with a big steel buckle from Middleburg, where we dossed down the first night after leaving the farm.
“I don’t know how it was, but although I met four or five of my old chums, I never touched a drop of drink at Middleburg, and what’s more, I didn’t want to. My mate wanted to, sure enough, but I wouldn’t let him; and to be quite safe we went and slept just outside the town, where we couldn’t see the lights in the bars, nor hear the boys shouting.
“Next morning we started for Pretoria, and there we both got on the bend. In a week all our money was spent, and we were then kicked out of the hotel. Next day me and my mate got blaming each other, and it ended in my giving him a most almighty hammering, after which we parted.
“I hung about Pretoria for a while, loafing mostly, and doing odd jobs. Then I got work in the country again, and when it was finished, went back to Pretoria and drunk out what I’d made. This sort of thing went on for about five years—a few months’ work at which I’d earn a bit of money—then a couple of weeks’ spree. After this a loaf around looking for jobs and picking up whatever I could get.
“You’re right, sir, sometimes I was in very low water. I’ve lived with the niggers in the locations at the lower end of Pretoria, and I’ve seen some queer sights. I lay ill in a hut there once for three months, and never had a doctor near me; a woman just physicked me with roots, and did me a power of good. When I got better I swore off drink for the twentieth time, and then, as luck would have it, I dropped on a Dutchman who wanted a house built. He lent me a couple of pound to buy clothes with, and then loaded me up on his wagon and took me to his farm, which was not very far from Middleburg.
“After the job, which took me four months, was finished, instead of going back to Pretoria I thought I’d drop round and see how little Hessie and the others on the farm where I’d got my first job over five years ago, were getting on. I’d more than twenty pound in my pocket, and as I’d nearly died through spreeing after I was sick a few months back, I made up my mind to keep on the straight, at all events for some little time to come.
“So I bought an old pony and a secondhand saddle from the man I’d been working for, and then I rode into Middleburg, where I got a bran-new rig-out at one of the stores. Next day I went on to Hessie’s farm. The old man and the old woman were away visiting, and the children, who were nearly all standing outside, had grown so that I hardly knew one of them. It seemed funny that none of them knew me from a crow.
“I just hitched my horse on to a stake, and went straight up to the front door. Not one of the children had recognised me, so they just lolled about and took no notice, same as Dutch children pretty nigh always does. The door was open, but I knocked, meaning to ask for Hessie, and after I’d seen her and got a cup of coffee, to go back to Middleburg. Just then, after I’d knocked, there came down the passage a tall, strapping young woman with the prettiest face I’d ever seen. She shook hands same as the Dutch always do with strangers that come on horseback, and asked me to come inside, so inside I came. I sat down on the old ‘bank’ (sofa) with the straight back and the bottom of crossed thongs, that looked just as if no one had sat on it since I’d left the farm, and then I began to ask the young woman about Hessie. When she heard my voice she gave a start, and then jumped up and called out in her own language: ‘Why it’s Vellum,’ so it turned out to be Hessie after all. She just ran at me, holding out both her hands, and laughing and blushing. Well, in less than no time I was talking to her about all sorts of things, and drinking cups of coffee as hard as ever I could. I could now speak Dutch quite well, but she’d hardly give me a chance to speak at all, being so full of questions, and asking another before I’d had time to answer the one. She was a wonderful pretty girl—very plump, with brown eyes and hair, and rosy cheeks. I’d never have known her again. She kept saying she wondered how it was she’d not known me, and then she’d get quite sad like, and say she thought I looked terrible old, and asked me if I’d had lots of trouble. I said yes, and then she pressed me to tell her what my trouble was. I told her a long yarn about my father and mother having died, and myself having been laid up for three months with fever (which was my name for the ‘rats,’ and worse). I felt so bad at deceiving her, that I was sorry I’d come back. All at once she jumped up and ran out of the room. When she returned her cheeks were very red, and her eyes bright. After a while I noticed that she had put on the belt I’d sent her long ago as a good-bye gift, and then that it was still nearly new. Then she called in her brothers and sisters, and we all shook hands, and they made me welcome all round.
“Well, she made me off-saddle my horse, and would hear of nothing but that I must stay for the night. It was just a piece of luck my finding any one at the farm, because the old man was preparing to shift to another farm up near Lydenburg, which he had bought. That evening we sat up late in the ‘voorhuis’ (parlour), and talked to one another long after every one else had gone to bed. Hessie told me all about herself, how she had missed me, and how she used to wonder where I was, and whether we’d ever meet again.
“I lay that night, not in the little outside room that I’d used before, but in the big strangers’ room, where there was a four-poster with a feather-bed so thick and soft that a bigger man than me might have got lost in it. Will you believe me, sir, when I tell you that I didn’t sleep a wink? I just lay awake thinking of the life I’d been leading and the things I’d done, and feeling as if I’d made everything I touched dirty. Then the way I’d had to lie to the girl made me feel so hot that I’d to kick off all the blankets, and that ashamed, that if I’d known where to find my saddle and bridle I’d have stole out and cleared.
“Next day the old man and the old woman turned up, and right glad they were to see me, too. They said I must stay on for a spell. Then the old man remembered that he wanted some building done at the other farm, so he asked me to go there with them and take on another job. This I agreed to do, and Hessie was that glad, her eyes just danced.
“In about a fortnight’s time we packed the wagons and started for the new farm, which lay in the mountains about fifteen miles, just as the crow flies, to the westward of Lydenburg. We reached there in four days, and I began building at once with bricks from some old walls which we broke down. There was a sort of a shanty already standing, but the old man wanted a bran-new house put up, and I took on the contract to do the mason-work, assisted by his boys. What with brick-burning and laying the foundation, it promised to be a six months’ job.
“I just lived with the family like in the old days, only friendlier. Hessie could not do enough for me, and talked and went on with me just like she used to as a child. By and by this young woman’s fondness began to make me feel queer. I was very fond of her, too, but a bit afraid of her at the same time; she was so mortal good and innocent, and the worst of it was she believed me to be the same. Many’s the time I’ve been sorrowful for days together through thinking of my past life, and wishing it had been different. Supposing I’d kept on the straight those five years, I might perhaps have put by enough money to buy a little farm, and then have married Hessie; for the old man liked me and would, I’m pretty sure, have helped us with some stock. These thoughts used to worry me more and more; it was just terrible to think of the chance I’d lost. And then the girl got fonder and fonder of me, and used to look sad when I’d keep out of her way, as I often did for two or three days at a spell.
“No, I never once thought of trying, as you say, ‘to live down the past,’ and marry her. You see, I couldn’t. There were good reasons against it. I’ve not told you half about the life I led those five years. Drink alone was enough. I knew that sometimes when the thirst for lush took me, nothing on earth would keep me from drinking. Once I went to Lydenburg where I was not known, and stayed a week just because I felt I must go on the bend. I was drunk on the quiet for three days in a back room of the hotel, and then I stayed four days sober before returning, so as to let the signs work off. But there was worse than the drink...
“After I’d been on the farm about six months, young Jacob, the old woman’s nephew, turned up. He had been away down colony for nearly a year. Jacob had grown into a long, thin, slouching galoot with a yellow face and a live-long-day scowl. His squint made him seem to be always looking round the corner. He, it turned out, had asked Hessie to marry him just before I’d conic back, and she’d not said no, nor yet yes, to him; but just that she wanted to wait a bit, and that she’d see when lie returned from the colony. I soon saw that Jacob was hot spoons on Hessie, and dreadful jealous of me. For a while I enjoyed making him mad, but when I saw how bad he looked I got sorry for him, and tried to avoid the girl. Thenshebegan to look miserable, and, I can’t tell you, what with one thing and another, I didn’t just know where I was.
“One day, just about a month before I expected the job to be finished, I was standing by myself working at pointing the foundation, when who should come round the corner but Hessie. She sat down on a stone close by. ‘Vellum,’ says she, ‘Jacob has again been asking me to marry him, and I’ve told him I won’t.’ ‘But,’ says I, ‘why don’t you marry him, Hessie? he’s got a good farm, and I’m sure he’s fond enough of you.’
“When I’d begun speaking I’d my face towards my work, and just when I stopped I turned to look at Hessie. She was leaning forward with her mouth half-open and her cheeks pale. For a while she didn’t speak. Then she gave a gulp and said, breathing hard: ‘Oh, Vellum, is it you who says that to me?’ I felt that sorry, I could have cut my throat. I knew now that I loved the girl as I’d never loved any one else, and here she was offering herself to me and I couldn’t take the gift. I cursed my own folly again only hotter, and what with one thought and another, I clean forgot for a few moments where I was, and that Hessie was there.
“When I looked round again Hessie was still staring at me, and then the thought came to tell her a lie which would hurt a bit at first, but do her good in the end. So I just said in a sort of jokey way: ‘Why, Hessie, if I weren’t a married man I’d think you were in love with me.’
“At that she gave a start and another gulp and said: ‘Are you truly a married man, Vellum?’ Well, thinks I, it’s no use turning back now, so I said: ‘Yes, Hessie; didn’t you know I’ve been married four years, and that my wife has gone to stay with her people at Potchefstrom?’ At this she just stood up, and walked away.
“Well, thinks I to myself, the sooner I’m out of this the better; but of course I couldn’t leave before my job was finished. I saw very little of Hessie now except at table. She went about very pale, and never once looked me in the eye, for which I was very thankful. Not many days after our talk, the old man told me she’d promised to marry Jacob, who, all the same, seemed to scowl worse than ever, and looked as mean as a rotten banana.
“As bad luck would have it, no sooner was my contract finished than the war with the English broke out. Then Lydenburg was in a state of siege, so I couldn’t get away. After a while a lot of Boers trecked on to the farm, and formed a ‘laager’ there. Then a commandant came from near Pretoria, and took charge. This happened to be a man who’d often enough seen me blind drunk in the streets between my spells of work. I’d done a job for him, too, and he’d humbugged me out of two pound ten. I felt sure he’d told my old man all about me, but beyond looking a bit strange for a day or two, it made no difference in him or in the old woman—they were just as kind as ever. But all the other Boers looked very sour at me, and would never answer when I’d speak to them.
“Jacob had a cousin who was a parson—and the dead spit of him—right down to the squint and the scowl. He was what they called a ‘dopper,’ (a South African Calvinist), which means in parsons one who sings very slowly, and speaks through his nose. This chap came one Sunday and preached to the Boers. His sermon was all about some folks called the Amalekites, and a chap called Agag, and that the Lord’s chosen people must hew to pieces all folks who weren’t chosen. He also told them they were to be careful of spies, and he talked a lot about wolves in sheep’s clothing. I was a long way off, but he ramped and shouted so loud, I could hear it all.
“Next day the old man told me on the quiet that I was suspected of being a spy, and that my life was in clanger. I told him this was ridiculous, because I’d been on the farm for months before the war began, and had no friends outside the ‘laager.’ He said he knew this, but that all the others were against me, and I must be careful.
“A couple of days after this the old man told me I’d have to clear out without further delay, because all the other Boers hated me like poison, and they meant to try me by court-martial for being a spy, and perhaps shoot me. He said that Jacob would take me away on horseback that night, and then I could lie by during the following day, and make my way to the English lines at Lydenburg when it got dark again. Just after midnight we were to creep away to a bush where our horses would be tied, and ride on from there. The old man gave me twenty-five pounds, which was all the money he had by him, and said he would send me the balance when the war was over, and I’d given him my address.
“That night I went into my room, and pretended to go to bed as usual. I just put my few little things together, and then I blew out the candle and sat waiting in the dark, feeling very lonesome and uneasy.
“By and by I heard a light tap at the door, so I opened it, and there I found Hessie with a Hottentot servant-girl named Griet, who used to wash my clothes. They came in on tip-toe, shut the door, and then Hessie drew me to one side and whispered very softly: ‘Vellum,’ says she, ‘you must do what I tell you now, quickly, and ask no questions.’ ‘All right, Hessie,’ says I, ‘what am I to do?’ ‘You must go into that corner of the room and take off all your clothes, and I will do the same in the opposite one. Then Griet will bring yours to me and mine to you, which you must put on. Do this at once, and then I will tell you the rest.’
“I could tell from the girl’s way of speaking that she was very much in earnest, so without saying anything I just went into the corner and took off my clothes. In a few moments Griet carried them away, and brought me Hessie’s, which I put on. They fitted me quite well.
“Just then Hessie stepped out of her corner and came to me in the dark. ‘Now, Vellum,’ says she, ‘just go with Griet, and when she tells you, steal out of the “laager” and follow her. Then walk as quickly as you can along the Lydenburg road until daybreak, when you must hide in the bush until night comes again. From there you can easily reach the Lydenburg “laager” before next morning.’
“She then took my two hands and pressed them very hard. ‘Vellum,’ says she, ‘we will never meet again; think kindly of me, for I love you very dearly.’ She then let go my hands, and put her arms around my neck. ‘Good-bye, Vellum,’ says she, ‘give that to your wife when you see her,’ and then she gave me a long, loving kiss. Then she and Griet left the room together, before I’d been able to say a word.
“Now that I knew I’d never see Hessie again, I felt more knocked of a heap than I’d ever felt in my life, and hot with shame at the lie I’d let her go away believing. I sat in the room and waited for about an hour, feeling quite queer in Hessie’s clothes, and liking to feel that what now touched me had touched her that was so good, and wondering whether, if I escaped, I’d have the grit in me to try and be a better man for her sake. I had a big ‘cappie’ on, which quite covered my face. I kept wondering why the plan for getting me away had been changed; but I guessed Hessie had some good reason for what she’d done.
“Then Griet came in and told me to follow her quickly. We went out by the front door. She was barefoot, and I just in my socks, and carrying my boots. We crept round the house in the shadow of the wall, and stole down the garden, which was long and narrow, with quince hedges on each side. We crossed a stream of water at the other end, and then walked quickly up the hill opposite, until we came to the road, along which we went as hard as we could. Then I wanted to put on my boots, so we turned a bit out of the road, and sat down under a bush.
“Griet then said she’d go back, so I gave her half-a-sovereign for herself, and my kind love and thanks to take to Hessie. Griet told me I was to listen for a horse’s footsteps, and when I heard this, to take cover until the horseman had passed. Griet then said ‘Good-bye, Boss,’ and we shook hands, and she went back.
“I walked along the road as quick as I could, and after going for about a quarter of an hour I heard a shot far ahead. This gave me a bit of a start, but I knew there was nothing for it but to keep my ears and eyes open, and go straight on, so straight on I went.
“Soon after this, I heard the sound of horses’ feet coming on in front, so I just went a few yards out of the road, and lay down among some rocks. In a few minutes a man rode past leading a horse by the bridle. This was Jacob, and he was laughing to himself quite loud. After passing me by a few yards, he stopped and dismounted. Then he let go the horse he had been leading, and gave it a heavy kick in the stomach. The horse just trotted away a few yards and began to feed. Jacob mounted again and rode on, still laughing. I tried to think what all this meant, but it got over me altogether. The last thing I heard of him was his laugh. What made it so queer was that I’d never heard him laugh before.
“After Jacob had got well past I went over to the horse, which was still feeding, and found it was my old moke, ready saddled-up. Here, thinks I, is a bit of luck; so I got on him and rode away, taking it easy, for I knew I could not reach Lydenburg that night, and I meant just to overhaul a gully full of scrub that I knew of about ten miles ahead, and where I could lie by next day.
“As I was going slowly along, my old horse began to cock his ears and snort, and then he gave a shy that nearly threw me out of the saddle. I looked, and saw something lying just at the side of the road. It was not a very dark night; there was no moon, but the stars could be seen every now and then through the flying scud. Seeing that the thing lay quite still, I got off to look more closely at it. I found it was a dead body... I at once thought of the shot and of Jacob’s laugh. I noticed a big slouch hat lying alongside, which somehow reminded me of my own.
“I laid my hand on the body, and found that it was quite warm. I felt farther and found... My God!... It was Hessie!
“She was quite dead, shot from behind through the back and chest... I was standing in a puddle of her blood... I saw it all now. That damnable scoundrel Jacob had brought her out here and shot her, thinking it was me. She had found out his meaning in offering to take me away, and come and died in my place...
“So now you can see, sir, why it is of no use your talking to me of ‘turning over a new leaf,’ and ‘leading a different life.’ I’m sick and tired of everything, and I’ll be a drunken tramp until I die in a ditch.
“When the war was over I went back to look for Jacob and kill him at sight. But the devil had got the best of me. Jacob’s neck had been broken by the capsizing of a wagon... I often hear that laugh of his... Some day I’ll hear it in hell.”