Jess

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  BESSIE IS PUT TO THE QUESTION

  Meanwhile another little tragedy was being enacted at the back of thehouse. After the one-eyed witch-doctor Hendrik had knocked Silas Croftdown and assisted in the pleasing operation of dragging him to theflagstaff, it occurred to his villainous heart that the present would bea good opportunity to profit personally by the confusion, and possiblyadd to the Englishman's misfortunes by doing him some injury on hisown account. Accordingly, just before Frank Muller began to read thedespatch announcing the British surrender, he slipped away into thehouse, which was now totally deserted, to see what he could steal.Passing into the sitting-room, he annexed Bessie's gold watch and chain,which was lying on the mantelpiece, a present that her uncle had madeher on the Christmas Day before the last. Having pocketed this heproceeded to the kitchen, where, lying on the dresser ready to put away,there was a goodly store of silver forks and spoons which Bessie hadbeen busily engaged in cleaning that morning. These he also transferred,to the extent of several dozens, to the capacious pockets of thetattered military great-coat that he wore. Whilst thus employed he wasmuch disturbed by the barking of the dog Stomp, the same animal that hadmauled him so severely a few weeks before, and was now, as it happened,tied up in his kennel--an old wine barrel--just outside the kitchendoor. Hendrik peeped out of the window, and having ascertained that thedog was secured, he proceeded, with a diabolical chuckle, to settle hisaccount with the poor animal. He had left his gun behind on the grass,but he still held his assegai in his hand, and going out of the kitchendoor with it, he showed himself within a few feet of the kennel. The dogrecognised him instantly, and went nearly mad with fury, making the mostdesperate efforts to break its chain and get at him. For some momentshe stood exciting the animal by derisive gestures and pelting it withstones, till at last, fearing that the clamour would attract attention,he suddenly transfixed it with his spear, and then, thinking he wasquite unobserved, sat down, snuffed and enjoyed the luxury of watchingthe poor beast's last agonies.

  But, as it happened, he was not quite alone, for, creeping along in thegrass and rubbish that grew on the farther side of the wall, his brownbody squeezed tightly against the brown stones--so tightly that anunpractised eye would certainly have failed to notice it at a distanceof a dozen paces--was the Hottentot Jantje. Occasionally, too, he wouldlift his head above the level of the wall and observe the proceedingsof the one-eyed man. Apparently he was undecided what to do, for hehesitated a little, and whilst he did so Hendrik killed the dog.

  Now Jantje had all a Hottentot's natural love for animals, which is,generally speaking, as marked as is the Kafir's callousness towardsthem, and he was particularly fond of the dog Stomp, which always wentout with him those rare occasions when he thought it safe or desirableto walk like an ordinary man instead of wriggling from bush to bush likea panther, or wriggling through the grass like a snake. The sight ofthe animal's death, therefore, raised in his yellow breast a very keendesire for vengeance on the murderer, if vengeance could be safelyaccomplished; and he paused to reflect how this might be done. As hethought Hendrik rose, gave the dead dog a kick, withdrew his assegaifrom the carcase, and then, as though struck by a sudden desire toconceal the murder, he undid the collar and, lifting the dog in hisarms, carried him with difficulty into the house and laid him under thekitchen-table. This done, he came out again to the wall, which was builtof unmortared stones, pulled one out without trouble, deposited thewatch and the silver he had stolen in the cavity, and replaced thestone. Next, before Jantje could guess what he meant to do, he proceededto make it practically impossible for his robbery to be discovered,or at any rate very improbable, by lighting a match, and, having firstglanced round to see that nobody was looking, reaching up and applyingit to the thick thatch wherewith the house itself was roofed, the fringeof which just at this spot was not more than nine feet from the ground.No rain had fallen at Mooifontein for several days, and there had beena hot sun with wind. As a result the thatch was dry as tinder. The lightcaught in a second, and in two more a thin line of fire was running upthe roof.

  Hendrik paused, stepped a few paces back, resting his shoulders againstthe wall, immediately the other side of which was Jantje, and beganto chuckle aloud and rub his hands as he admired the results ofhis labours. This proved too much for the Hottentot behind him. Theprovocation was overmastering, and so was the opportunity. Jantjecarried with him the thick stick on which he was so fond of cuttingnotches. Raising it in both hands be brought the heavy knob down withall his strength upon the one-eyed villain's unprotected skull. It wasa thick skull, but the knob prevailed against it, and fractured it, anddown went the estimable witch-doctor as though he were dead.

  Next, taking a leaf out of his fallen enemy's book, Jantje slipped overthe wall, and, seizing the senseless man, he dragged him by one arm intothe kitchen and rolled him under the table to keep company with thedead dog. Then, filled with a fearful joy, he crawled out, to a point ofvantage in a little plantation seventy or eighty yards to the right ofthe house, whence he could see what the Boers were doing and watch theconflagration that he knew must ensue, for the fire had taken instantand irremediable hold.

  Ten minutes or so afterwards that amiable character Hendrik partiallyregained his senses, to find himself surrounded by a sea of fire, inwhich he perished miserably, not having power to move, and his feeblecries being totally swallowed up and lost in the fierce roaring of theflames. Such was the very appropriate end of Hendrik and of the magic ofHendrik.

  Down by the flagstaff the old man lay in his fit, while Bessie tendedhim and a posse of Boers stood round, smoking and laughing or loungingabout with an air of lordly superiority, well worthy of victors inpossession.

  "Will none of you help me to take him to the house?" she cried. "Surelyyou have ill treated an old man enough."

  Nobody stirred, not even Frank Muller, who was gazing at hertear-stained face with a fierce smile playing round the corners of hisclean-cut mouth, which his beard was trimmed to show.

  "It will pass, Miss Bessie," he said; "it will pass. I have often seensuch fits. They come from too much excitement, or too much drink----"

  Suddenly he broke off with an exclamation, and pointed to the house,from the roof of which pale curls of blue smoke were rising.

  "Who has fired the house?" he shouted. "By Heaven! I will shoot theman."

  The Boers wheeled round staring in astonishment, and as they gazed thetinderlike roof burst into a red sheet of flame that grew and gatheredbreadth and height with an almost marvellous rapidity. Just then, too,a light breeze sprang up from over the hill at the rear of the house,as it sometimes did at this time of the day, and bent the flames overtowards them in an immense arch of fire, so that the fumes and heat andsmoke began to beat upon their faces.

  "Oh, the house is burning down!" cried Bessie, utterly bewildered bythis new misfortune.

  "Here, you!" shouted Muller to the gaping Boers, "go and see if anythingcan be saved. Phew! we must get out of this," and, stooping down, helifted Silas Croft in his arms and walked away with him, followed byBessie, towards the plantation on their left, the same spot where Jantjehad taken refuge. In the centre of this plantation was a little gladesurrounded by young orange and blue-gum trees. Here he laid the oldman down upon a bed of dead leaves and soft springing grass, and thenhurried away without a word to the fire, only to find that the housewas already utterly unapproachable. Such was the rapidity with which theflames did their work upon the mass of dry straw and the wooden roof andfloorings beneath, that in fifteen minutes the whole of the interior ofthe house was a glowing incandescent pile, and in half an hour it wascompletely gutted, nothing being left standing but the massive outerwalls of stone, over which a dense column of smoke hung like a pall.Mooifontein was a blackened ruin; only the stables and outhouses, whichwere roofed with galvanised iron, remained uninjured.

  Frank Muller had not been gone five minutes when, to Bessie's joy, heruncle opened his eyes and sat u
p.

  "What is it? what is it?" he said. "Ah! I recollect. What is all thissmell of fire? Surely they have not burnt the place?"

  "Yes, uncle," sobbed Bessie, "they have."

  Silas groaned aloud. "It took me ten years to build, bit by bit, almoststone by stone, and now they have destroyed it. Well, why not? God'swill be done. Give me your arm, love; I want to get to the water. I feelfaint and sick."

  She did as he bade her, sobbing bitterly. Within fifteen yards, on theedge of the plantation, was a little _spruit_ or runnel of water, and ofthis he drank copiously, and bathed his wounded head and face.

  "There, love," he said, "don't fret; I feel quite myself again. I fear Imade a fool of myself. I haven't learnt to bear misfortune and dishonouras I should yet, and, like Job, I felt as though God had forsaken us.But, as I said, His will be done. What is the next move, I wonder? Ah!we shall soon know, for here comes our friend Frank Muller."

  "I am glad to see that you have recovered, uncle," said Muller politely,"and I am sorry to have to tell you that the house is beyond help.Believe me, if I knew who fired it I would shoot him. It was not my wishor intention that the property should be destroyed."

  The old man merely bowed his head and made no answer. His fiery spiritseemed to be crushed out of him.

  "What is it your pleasure that we should do, sir?" said Bessie at last."Perhaps, now that we are ruined, you will allow us to go to Natal,which, I suppose, is still an English country?"

  "Yes, Miss Bessie, Natal is still English--for the present; soon it willbe Dutch; but I am sorry that I cannot let you go there now. My ordersare to keep you both prisoners and to try your uncle by court-martial.The waggon-house," he went on quickly, "with the two little rooms oneach side of it, have not been touched by the fire. They shall be madeready for you, and as soon as the heat is less you can go there;" and,turning to his men who had followed him, he gave some rapid orders,which two of them departed to carry out.

  Still the old man made no comment; he did not even seem indignant orsurprised; but poor Bessie was utterly prostrated, and stood helpless,not knowing what to say to this terrible, remorseless man, who stood socalm and unmoved before them.

  Frank Muller paused awhile to think, stroking his golden beard, then heturned again and addressed the two other men who stood behind him.

  "You will keep guard over the prisoner," indicating Silas Croft, "andsuffer none to communicate with him by word or sign. As soon as it isis ready you will place him in the little room to the left of thewaggon-house, and see that he is supplied with all he wants. If heescapes or converses, or is ill treated, I will hold you responsible. Doyou understand?"

  "Yah, _Meinheer_," was the answer.

  "Very good; be careful you do not forget. And now, Miss Bessie, I shallbe glad if you can give me a word alone----"

  "No," said Bessie; "no, I will not leave my uncle."

  "I fear you will have to do that," he said, with his cold smile. "I begyou to think again. It will be very much to your advantage to speak tome, and to your uncle's advantage also. I should advise you to come."

  Bessie hesitated. She hated and mistrusted the man, as she had goodreason to do, and feared to trust herself alone with him.

  While she still hesitated, the two Boers, under whose watch and wardMuller had placed her uncle, advanced and stood between him and her,cutting her off from him. Muller turned and walked a few paces--ten orso--to the right, and in desperation she followed him. He halted behinda bushy orange-tree of some eight years' growth. Overtaking him, shestood silent, waiting for him to begin. They were quite close to theothers, but the roaring of the flames of the burning house was stillsufficiently loud to have drowned a much more audible conversation.

  "What is it you have to say to me?" she said at length, pressing herhand against her heart to still its beating. Her woman's instinct toldher what was coming, and she was trying to nerve herself to meet it.

  "Miss Bessie," he said slowly, "it is this. For years I have loved youand wanted to marry you. I again ask you to be my wife."

  "Mr. Frank Muller," she answered, her spirit rising to the occasion,"I thank you for your offer, and the only answer that I can give you isthat I once and for all decline it."

  "Think," he said; "I love you as women are not often loved. You arealways in my mind, by day and by night too. Everything I do, every stepI go up the ladder, I have said and say to myself, 'I am doing itfor Bessie Croft, whom I mean to marry.' Things have changed in thiscountry. The rebellion has been successful. It was I who gave thecasting vote for it that I might win you. I am now a great man, andshall one day be a greater. You will be great with me. Think what yousay."

  "I have thought, and I will not marry you. You dare to come and ask meto marry you over the ashes of my home, out of which you have dragged meand my poor old uncle. I hate you, I tell you, and I will not marry you!I had rather marry a Kafir than marry you, Frank Muller, however greatyou may be."

  He smiled. "Is it because of the Englishman Niel that you will not marryme? He is dead. It is useless to cling to a dead man."

  "Dead or alive, I love him with all my heart, and if he is dead it is atthe hands of your people, and his blood rises up between us."

  "His blood has sunk down into the sand. He is dead, and I am glad thathe is dead. Once more, is that your last word?"

  "It is."

  "Very good. Then I tell you that you shall marry me or----"

  "Or what?"

  "Or your uncle, the old man you love so much, shall _die!_"

  "What do you mean?" she said in a choked voice.

  "What I say; no more and no less. Do you think that I will let one oldman's life stand between me and my desire? Never. If you will not marryme, Silas Croft shall be put upon his trial for attempted murder and fortreason within an hour from this. Within an hour and a half he shallbe condemned to die, and to-morrow at dawn he shall be shot, by warrantunder my hand. I am commandant here, with power of life and death, andI tell you that he shall certainly die--and his blood will be on yourhead."

  Bessie grasped at the tree for support. "You dare not," she said; "youdare not murder an innocent old man."

  "Dare not!" he answered; "you must understand me very ill, Bessie Croft,when you talk of what I dare not do for you. There is nothing," headded, with a thrill of his rich voice, "that I dare not do to gain you.Listen: promise to marry me to-morrow morning. I will bring a clergymanhere from Wakkerstroom, and your uncle shall go free as air, though heis a traitor to the land, and though he has tried to shoot a burgherafter the declaration of peace. Refuse, and he dies. Choose now."

  "I have chosen," she answered with passion. "Frank Muller, perjuredtraitor--yes, murderer that you are, I will _not_ marry you."

  "Very good, very good, Bessie; as you will. But now one more thing. Youshall not say that I have not warned you. If you persist in this youruncle shall die, but you shall not escape me. You will not marry me?Well, even in this country, where I can do most things, I cannot forceyou to do that. But I can force you to be my wife in all but the name,without marriage; and this, when your uncle is stiff in his bloodygrave, I will do. You shall have one more chance after the trial, andone only. If you refuse he shall die, and then, after his death, I shalltake you away by force, and in a week's time you will be glad enough tomarry me to cover up your shame, my pretty!"

  "You are a devil, Frank Muller, a wicked devil, but I will not befrightened into dishonour by you. I had rather kill myself. I trust toGod to help me. I will have nothing to do with you;" and she put herhands before her face and burst into tears.

  "You look lovely when you weep," he said with a laugh; "to-morrow Ishall be able to kiss away your tears. As you will. Here, you!" heshouted to some men, who could be seen watching the progress of thedying fire, "come here."

  Some of the men obeyed, and to them he gave instructions in the sameterms that he had given to the other two men who were watching oldSilas, ordering Bessie to be instantly incarcerated in the cor
respondinglittle room on the other side of the waggon-house, and kept strictlyfrom all communication with the outside world, adding, however, thesewords:

  "Bid the burghers assemble in the waggon-house for the trial of theEnglishman, Silas Croft, for treason against the State, and attemptedmurder of one of the burghers of the State in the execution of thecommands of the Triumvirate."

  The two men advanced and seized Bessie by both arms. Then, faint andoverpowered, she was led through the little plantation, over a gap inthe garden wall, down past the scorched syringa-trees which lined theroadway that ran along the hillside at the back of the still burninghouse, till they reached the waggon-house with the two little roomswhich served respectively as a store and a harness room. There she wasthrust into the store-room, which was half full of loose potatoes andmealies in sacks, and the door locked upon her.

  There was no window to this room, and the only light in it was suchas found its way through the chinks of the door and an air-hole in themasonry of the back wall. Bessie sank on a half-emptied sack of mealiesand tried to reflect. Her first thought was of escape, but soon she cameto the conclusion that this was a practical impossibility. The stoutyellow wood door was locked upon her, and a sentry stood before it. Sherose and looked through the air-hole in the rear wall, but there anothersentry was posted. Then she turned her attention to the side wall thatdivided the room from the waggon-house. It was built of fourteen-inchgreen brickwork, and had cracked from the shrinkage of the bricks, sothat she could hear everything that went on in the waggon-house, andeven see anybody who might be moving about in it. But it was far toostrong for her to hope to be able to break through, and even if she did,it would be useless, for armed men were there also. Besides, how couldshe run away and leave her old uncle to his fate?