CHAPTER VIII
JESS GOES TO PRETORIA
That day, at dinner, Jess suddenly announced that she was going on themorrow to Pretoria to see Jane Neville.
"To see Jane Neville!" said Bessie, opening her blue eyes wide. "Why,it was only last month you said that you did not care about Jane Nevillenow, because she had grown so vulgar. Don't you remember when shestopped here on her way down to Natal last year, and held up her fathands, and said, 'Ah, Jess--Jess is a _genius!_ It is a privilege toknow her'? And then she asked you to quote Shakespeare to that lump ofa brother of hers, and you told her that if she did not hold her tongueshe would not enjoy the privilege much longer. And now you want to goand stop with her for two months! Well, Jess, you are odd. And, what'smore, I think it is very unkind of you to run away for so long."
To all of which prattle Jess said nothing, but merely reiterated herdetermination to go.
John, too, was astonished, and, to tell the truth, not a littledisgusted. Since the previous day, when he had that talk with her inLion Kloof, Jess had assumed a clearer and more definite interest in hiseyes. Before that she was an enigma; now he had guessed enough about herto make him anxious to know more. Indeed, he had not perhaps realisedhow strong and definite his interest was till he heard that she wasgoing away for a long period. Suddenly it struck him that the farm wouldbe very dull without this very fascinating woman moving about theplace in her silent, resolute way. Bessie was, no doubt, delightfuland charming to look on, but she had not her sister's brains andoriginality; and John Niel was sufficiently above the ordinary run tothoroughly appreciate intellect and originality in a woman, instead ofstanding aghast at it. She interested him intensely, to say the least ofit, and, man-like, he felt exceedingly annoyed, and even sulky, atthe idea of her departure. He looked at her in protest, and, with anawkwardness begotten of his irritation, knocked down the vinegar cruetand made a mess upon the table; but she evaded his eyes and took nonotice of the vinegar. Then, feeling that he had done all that in himlay, he went to see about the ostriches; first of all hanging about alittle in case Jess should come out, which she did not do. Indeed, hesaw nothing more of her till supper time. Bessie told him that she saidshe was busy packing; but, as one can only take twenty pounds weight ofluggage in a post-cart, this did not quite convince him that it was soin fact.
At supper Jess was, if possible, even more quiet than she had beenat dinner. After it was over, he asked her to sing, but she declined,saying that she had given up singing for the present, and persistingin her statement in spite of the chorus of remonstrance it aroused. Thebirds only sing whilst they are mating; and it is, by the way, a curiousthing, and suggestive of the theory that the same great principlespervade all nature, that now when her trouble had overtaken her,and that she had lost the love which had suddenly sprung from herheart--full-grown and clad in power as Athena sprang from the head ofJove--Jess had no further inclination to use her divine gift of song.Probably it was nothing more than a coincidence, although a strange one.
The arrangement was, that on the morrow Jess was to be driven in theCape cart to Martinus-Wesselstroom, more commonly called Wakkerstroom,there to catch the post-cart, which was timed to leave the town atmid-day, though when it would leave was quite another matter. Post-cartsare not particular to a day or so in the Transvaal.
Old Silas Croft was to drive her with Bessie, who wished to do someshopping in Wakkerstroom, as ladies sometimes will; but at the lastmoment the old man felt a premonitory twinge of the rheumatism to whichhe was a martyr, and could not go. So, of course, John volunteered, and,though Jess raised some difficulties, Bessie furthered the idea, and inthe end his offer was accepted.
Accordingly, at half-past eight on a beautiful morning up came thetented cart, with its two massive wheels, stout stinkwood disselboom,and four spirited young horses; to the heads of which the HottentotJantje, assisted by the Zulu Mouti, clad in the sweet simplicity of amoocha, a few feathers in his wool, and a horn snuffbox stuck throughthe fleshy part of the ear, hung on grimly. In they got--John first,then Bessie next to him, then Jess. Next Jantje scrambled up behind; andafter some preliminary backing and plunging, and showing a dispositionto twine themselves affectionately round the orange-trees, off wentthe horses at a hand gallop, and away swung the cart after them, in afashion that would have frightened anybody, not accustomed to that modeof progression, pretty well out of his wits. As it was, John had as muchas he could do to keep the four horses together, and to prevent themfrom bolting, and this alone, to say nothing of the rattling and joltingof the vehicle over the uneven track, was sufficient to put a stop toany attempt at conversation.
Wakkerstroom is about eighteen miles from Mooifontein, a distance thatthey covered well within the two hours. Here the horses were outspannedat the hotel, and John went into the house whence the post-cart wasto start and booked Jess's seat, and then joined the ladies at the_Kantoor_ or store where they were shopping. When their purchases weremade, they went back to the inn together and ate some dinner; by whichtime the Hottentot driver of the cart began to tune up lustily, butunmelodiously, on a bugle to inform intending passengers that it wastime to start. Bessie was out of the room at the moment, and, with theexception of a peculiarly dirty-looking coolie waiter, there was nobodyabout.
"How long are you going to be away, Miss Jess?" asked John.
"Two months, more or less, Captain Niel."
"I am very sorry that you are going," he said earnestly. "It will bedull at the farm without you."
"You will have Bessie to talk to," she answered, turning her face to thewindow, and affecting to watch the inspanning of the post-cart in theyard on to which it looked.
"Captain Niel!" she said suddenly.
"Yes?"
"Mind you look after Bessie while I am away. Listen! I am going to tellyou something. You know Frank Muller?"
"Yes, I know him, and a very disagreeable fellow he is."
"Well, he threatened Bessie the other day, and he is a man who is quitecapable of carrying out a threat. I can't tell you anything more aboutit, but I want you to promise me to protect Bessie if any occasion forit should arise. I do not know that it will, but it might. Will youpromise?"
"Of course I will; I would do a great deal more than that if you askedme to, Jess," he answered tenderly, for now that she was going away hefelt curiously drawn towards her, and was anxious to show it.
"Never mind me," she said, with an impatient little movement. "Bessieis sweet enough and lovely enough to be looked after for her own sake, Ishould think."
Before he could say any more, in came Bessie herself, saying that thedriver was waiting, and they went out to see her sister off.
"Don't forget your promise," Jess whispered to him, bending down as hehelped her into the cart, so low that her lips almost touched him, andher breath rested for a second on his cheek like the ghost of a kiss.
In another moment the sisters had embraced each other, tenderly enough;the driver had sounded once more on his awful bugle, and away went thecart at full gallop, bearing with it Jess, two other passengers, andher Majesty's mails. John and Bessie stood for a moment watching itsmad career, as it fled splashing and banging down the straggling streettowards the wide plains beyond; then they turned to enter the inn againand prepare for their homeward drive. At that moment, an old Boer, namedHans Coetzee, with whom John was already slightly acquainted, cameup, and, extending an enormously big and thick hand, bid them "_Goodendaag._" Hans Coetzee was a very favourable specimen of the better sortof Boer, and really came more or less up to the ideal picture that is sooften drawn of that "simple pastoral people." He was a very large, stoutman, with a fine open face and a pair of kindly eyes. John, looking athim, guessed that he could not weigh less than seventeen stone, and thatestimate was well within the mark.
"How are you, Captain?" he said in English, for he could talk Englishwell, "and how do you like the Transvaal?--must not call it SouthAfrican Republic now, you know, for that's treason," a
nd his eyetwinkled merrily.
"I like it very much, _Meinheer_," said John.
"Ah, yes, it's a beautiful veldt, especially about here--no horsesickness, no 'blue tongue,'[*] and a good strong grass for the cattle.And you must find yourself very snug at _Oom_ Croft's there; it's thenicest place in the district, with the ostriches and all. Not thatI hold with ostriches in this veldt; they are well enough in the oldcolony, but they won't breed here--at least, not as they should do. Itried them once and I know; oh, yes, I know."
[*] A disease that is very fatal to sheep.
"Yes, it's a very fine country, _Meinheer_. I have been all over theworld almost, and I never saw a finer."
"You don't say so, now! Almighty, what a thing it is to have travelled!Not that I should like to travel myself. I think that the Lord meant usto stop in the place He has made for us. But it is a fine country, and"(dropping his voice) "I think it is a finer country than it used to be."
"You mean that the veldt has got 'tame', _Meinheer_?"
"Nay, nay. I mean that the land is English now," he answeredmysteriously, "and though I dare not say so among my _volk_, I hope thatit will keep English. When I was Republican, I was Republican, andit was good in some ways, the Republic. There was so little to pay intaxes, and we knew how to manage the black folk; but now I am English,I am English. I know the English Government means good money and safety,and if there isn't a _Raad_ (assembly) now, well, what does it matter?Almighty, how they used to talk there!--clack, clack, clack! just likean old black _koran_ (species of bustard) at sunset. And where did theyrun the waggon of the Republic to--Burghers and those damned Hollandersof his, and the rest of them? Why, into the _sluit_--into a _sluit_ withpeaty banks; and there it would have stopped till now, or till the floodcame down and swept it away, if old Shepstone--ah! what a tongue thatman has, and how fond he is of the _kinderchies!_ (little children)--hadnot come and pulled it out again. But look here, Captain, the _volk_round here don't think like that. It's the '_verdomde BritischeGouvernment_' here and the '_verdomde Britische Gouvernment_' there, and_bymakaars_ (meetings) here and _bymakaars_ there. Silly folk, they allrun one after the other like sheep. But there it is, Captain, and I tellyou there will be fighting before long, and then our people will shootthose poor _rooibaatjes_ of yours like buck, and take the land back.Poor things! I could weep when I think of it."
John smiled at this melancholy prognostication, and was about to explainwhat a poor show all the Boers in the Transvaal would make in front of afew British regiments, when he was astonished by a sudden change in hisfriend's manner. Dropping his enormous paw on to his shoulder, Coetzeebroke into a burst of somewhat forced merriment, the cause of which,though John did not guess it at the moment, was that he had justperceived Frank Muller, who was in Wakkerstroom with a waggon-load ofcorn to grind at the mill, standing within five yards, and apparentlyintensely interested in flipping at the flies with a cowrie made of thetail of a vilderbeeste, but in reality listening to Coetzee's talk withall his ears.
"Ha, ha! _nef_ (nephew)," said old Coetzee to the astonished John, "nowonder you like Mooifontein--there are other _mooi_ (pretty) thingsthere beside the water. How often do you _opsit_ (sit up at night) withUncle Croft's pretty girl, eh? I'm not quite as blind as an ant-bearyet. I saw her blush when you spoke to her just now. I saw her. Well,well, it is a pretty game for a young man, isn't it, _nef_ Frank?" (thiswas addressed to Muller). "I'll be bound the Captain here 'burns a longcandle' with pretty Bessie every night, eh, Frank? I hope you ain'tjealous, _nef_? My _vrouw_ told me some time ago that you were sweet inthat direction yourself;" and he stopped at last, out of breath,looking anxiously towards Muller for an answer, while John, who hadbeen somewhat overwhelmed at this flood of bucolic chaff, gave a sighof relief. As for Muller, he behaved in a curious manner. Instead oflaughing, as the jolly old Boer had intended that he should, althoughCoetzee could not see it, his face had been growing blacker and blacker;and now that the flow of language ceased, with a savage ejaculationwhich John could not catch, but which he appeared to throw at his(John's) head, he turned on his heel and went off towards the courtyardof the inn.
"Almighty!" said old Hans, wiping his face with a red cottonpocket-handkerchief; "I have put my foot into a big hole. That stink-catMuller heard all that I was saying to you, and I tell you he willsave it up and save it up, and one day he will bring it all out to the_volk_, and call me a traitor to the 'land' and ruin me. I know him. Heknows how to balance a long stick on his little finger so that the endskeep even. Oh, yes, he can ride two horses at once, and blow hot andblow cold. He is a devil of a man, a devil of a man! And what did hemean by swearing at you like that? Is it about the _missie_ (girl), Iwonder? Almighty! who can say? Ah! that reminds me--though I'm sure Idon't know why it should--the Kafirs tell me that there is a big herd ofbuck--vilderbeeste and blesbok--on my outlying place about an hour anda half (ten miles) from Mooifontein. Can you hold a rifle, Captain? Youlook like a bit of a hunter."
"Oh, yes, Meinheer!" said John, delighted at the prospect of someshooting.
"Ah, I thought so. All you English are sportsmen, though you don't knowhow to kill buck. Well now, you take _Oom_ Croft's light Scotch cart andtwo good horses, and come over to my place--not to-morrow, for my wife'scousin is coming to see us, and an old cat she is, but rich; she has athousand pounds in gold in the waggon-box under her bed--nor the nextday, for it is the Lord's day, and one can't shoot creatures on theLord's day--but Monday, yes, Monday. You will be there by eight o'clock,and you shall see how to kill vilderbeeste. Almighty! now what can thatjackal Frank Muller have meant? Ah! he is the devil of a man," and,shaking his head ponderously, the jolly old Boer departed, and presentlyJohn saw him riding away upon a fat little shooting-pony which cannothave weighed much more than himself, but that cantered off with him onhis fifteen-mile journey as though he were a feather-weight.