CHAPTER XX.
MR. HECTOR O'FLAHERTY FINDS SOMETHING IN THE PAPER.
Ezra Girdlestone had taken up his quarters in two private rooms at the_Central Hotel_, Kimberley, and had already gained a considerablereputation in the town by the engaging "abandon" of his manners, and bythe munificent style in which he entertained the more prominent citizensof the little capital. His personal qualities of strength and beautyhad also won him the respect which physical gifts usually command inprimitive communities, and the smart young Londoner attracted custom tohimself among the diggers in a way which excited the jealousy of thewhole tribe of elderly Hebrews who had hitherto enjoyed a monopoly ofthe trade. Thus, he had already gained his object in making himselfknown, and his name was a familiar one in every camp from Waldeck'sPlant to Cawood's Hope. Keeping his headquarters at Kimberley, hetravelled perpetually along the line of the diggings. All the time hewas chafing secretly and marvelling within himself how it was that nowhisper of the expected news had arrived yet from England.
One sunny day he had returned from a long ride, and, having dined,strolled out into the streets, Panama hat upon head and cigar in mouth.It was the 23rd of October, and he had been nearly ten weeks in thecolony. Since his arrival he had taken to growing a beard. Otherwise,he was much as we have seen him in London, save that a ruddier glow ofhealth shone upon his sunburned face. The life of the diggings appearedto agree with him.
As he turned down Stockdale Street, a man passed him leading a pair ofhorses tired and dusty, with many a strap and buckle hanging down behindthem. After him came another leading a second pair, and after himanother with a third. They were taking them round to the stables."Hullo!" cried Ezra, with sudden interest; "what's up?"
"The mail's just in."
"Mail from Capetown?"
"Yes."
Ezra quickened his pace and strode down Stockdale Street into the MainStreet, which, as the name implies, is the chief thoroughfare ofKimberley. He came out close to the office of the _Vaal RiverAdvertiser and Diamond Field Gazette_. There was a crowd in front ofthe door. This _Vaal River Advertiser_ was a badly conducted newspaper,badly printed upon bad paper, but selling at sixpence a copy, andcharging from seven shillings and sixpence to a pound for the insertionof an advertisement. It was edited at present by a certain P. HectorO'Flaherty, who having been successively a dentist, a clerk, aprovision merchant, an engineer, and a sign painter, and having failedat each and every one of these employments, had taken to running anewspaper as an easy and profitable occupation. Indeed, as managed byMr. O'Flaherty, the process was simplicity itself. Having secured bythe Monday's mail copies of the London papers of two months before, hespent Tuesday in cutting extracts from them with the greatestimpartiality, chopping away everything which might be of value to him.The Wednesday was occupied in cursing at three black boys who helped toput up the type, and on the Thursday a fresh number of the _Vaal RiverAdvertiser and Diamond Field Gazette_ was given to the world.The remaining three days were devoted by Mr. O'Flaherty to intoxication,but the Monday brought him back once more to soda water and literature.
It was seldom, indeed, that the _Advertiser_ aroused interest enough tocause any one to assemble round the Office. Ezra's heart gave a quickflutter at the sight, and he gathered himself together like a runner whosees his goal in view. Throwing away his cigar, he hurried on ad joinedthe little crowd.
"What's the row?" he asked.
"There's news come by the mail," said one or two bystanders."Big news."
"What sort of news?"
"Don't know yet."
"Who said there was news?"
"Driver."
"Where is he?"
"Don't know."
"Who will know about it?"
"O'Flaherty."
Here there was a general shout from the crowd for O'Flaherty, and anirascible-looking man, with a red bloated face and bristling hair cameto the office door.
"Now, what the divil d'ye want?" he roared, shaking a quill pen at thecrowd. "What are ye after at all? Have ye nothing betther to do than toblock up the door of a decent office?"
"What's the news?" cried a dozen voices.
"The news, is it?" roared O'Flaherty, more angrily than ever; "and can'tye foind out that by paying your sixpences like men, and taking the_Advertoiser_? It's a paper, though Oi says it as shouldn't, that wouldcut out some o' these _Telegraphs_ and _Chronicles_ if it was only inLondon. Begad, instead of encouraging local talent ye spind your toimestanding around in the strate, and trying to suck a man's news out ofhim for nothing."
"Look here, boss," said a rough-looking fellow in the front of thecrowd, "you keep your hair on, and don't get slinging words about toofreely, or it may be the worse for you and for your office too.We heard as there was big news, an' we come down to hear it, but as togettin' it without paying, that ain't our sort. I suppose we can callit square if we each hands in sixpence, which is the price o' yourpaper, and then you can tell us what's on."
O'Flaherty considered for a moment. "It's worth a shillin' each," hesaid, "for it plays the divil with the circulation of a paper whin itsnews gits out too soon."
"Well, we won't stick at that," said the miner. "What say you, boys?"
There was a murmur of assent, and a broad-brimmed straw hat was passedrapidly from hand to band. It was half full of silver when it reachedO'Flaherty. The _Advertiser_ had never before had such a circulation,for the crowd had rapidly increased during the preceding dialogue, andnow numbered some hundreds.
"Thank ye, gintlemen," said the editor.
"Well, what's the news?" cried the impatient crowd.
"Sure I haven't opened the bag yet, but I soon will. Whativer it isit's bound to be there. Hey there, Billy, ye divil's brat, where's themail bag?"
Thus apostrophized, a sharp little Kaffir came running out with thebrown bag, and Mr. O'Flaherty examined it in a leisurely manner, whichelicited many an oath from the eager crowd.
"Here's the _Standard_ and the _Times_," he said, handing the variouspapers out to his subordinate. "Begad, there's not one of ye knows theexpinse of k'aping a great paper loike this going, forebye the brainsand no profit at the ind of it. Here's the _Post_ and the _News_. Ifyou were men you'd put in an advertisement ivery wake, whether ye neededit or not, just to encourage literature. Here's the _Cape Argus_--it'llbe in here whativer it is."
With great deliberation Mr. Hector O'Flaherty put on a pair ofspectacles and folded the paper carefully round, so as to bring theprincipal page to the front. Then he cleared his throat, with thepomposity which is inseparable with most men from the act of readingaloud.
"Go it, boss!" cried his audience encouragingly.
"'Small-pox at Wellington'--that's not it, is it? 'Germany and theVatican'--'Custom House Duties at Port Elizabeth'--'Roosian Advances inCintral Asia' eh? Is that it--'Discovery of great Diamond Moines?'"
"That's it," roared the crowd; "let's hear about that." There was ananxious ring in their voices, and their faces were grave and serious asthey looked up at the reader upon the steps of the office.
"'Diamond moines have been discovered in Roosia,'" read O'Flaherty,"'which are confidently stated to exceed in riches anything which hasexisted before. It is ginerally anticipated that this discovery, ifconfirmed, will have a most prejudicial effect upon the African trade.'That's an extract from the London news of the _Argus_."
A buzz of ejaculations and comments arose from the crowd. "Isn't thereany more about it?" they cried.
"Here's a later paper, boss," said the little Kaffir, who had beendiligently looking over the dates.
O'Flaherty opened it, and gave a whistle of astonishment."Here's enough to satisfy you," he said. "It's in big toipe and takesup noigh the whole of the first page. I can only read ye the headings,for we must get to work and have out a special edition. You'll gitdetails there, an' it'll be out in a few hours. Look here at the fussthey've made about it." The editor turned the paper as he spoke,
andexhibited a series of large black headings in this style:--
RUSSIAN DIAMOND FIELDS.
EXTRAORDINARY DISCOVERY BY AN ENGLISHMAN. THREATENED EXTINCTION OF THE CAPE INDUSTRY. GREAT FALL IN PRICES. OPINIONS OF THE LONDON PRESS. FULL DETAILS.
"What d'ye think of that?" cried O'Flaherty, triumphantly, as if he hadhad some hand in the matter. "Now I must git off to me work, and you'llhave it all before long in your hands. Ye should bliss your stars thatye have some one among ye to offer ye the convanience of the latestnews. Good noight to ye all," and he trotted back into his office withhis hat and its silver contents in his hand.
The crowd broke up into a score of gesticulating chattering groups, andwandered up or down the street. Ezra Girdlestone waited until they hadcleared away, and then stepped into the office of the _Advertiser_.
"What's the matter now?" asked O'Flaherty, angrily. He was a man wholived in a state of chronic irritation.
"Have you a duplicate of that paper?"
"Suppose I have?"
"What will you sell it for?"
"What will you give?"
"Half a sovereign."
"A sovereign."
"Done!" and so Ezra Girdlestone walked out of the office with fulldetails in his hand, and departed to his hotel, where he read theaccount through very slowly and deliberately. It appeared to besatisfactory, for he chuckled to himself a good deal as he perused it.Having finished it, he folded the paper up, placed it in his breastpocket, and, having ordered his horse, set off to the neighbouringtownship of Dutoitspan with the intention of carrying the news with him.
Ezra had two motives in galloping across the veldt that October night.One was to judge with his own ears and eyes what effect the news wouldhave upon practical men. The other was a desire to gratify thatsinister pleasure which an ill-natured man has in being the bearer ofevil tidings. They had probably heard the report by this time, but itwas unlikely that any details had reached them. No one knew better thanyoung Girdlestone that this message from Europe would bring utter ruinand extinction to many a small capitalist, that it would mean theshattering of a thousand hopes, and the advent of poverty and misery tothe men with whom he had been associating. In spite of this knowledge,his heart beat high, as his father's had done in London, and as hespurred his horse onwards through the darkness, he was hardly able torefrain from shouting and whooping in his exultation.
The track from Kimberley to Dutoitspan was a rough one, but the moon wasup, and the young merchant found no difficulty in following it. When hereached the summit of the low hill over which the road ran, he saw thelights of the little town sparkling in the valley beneath him. It wasten o'clock before he galloped into the main street, and he saw at aglance that the news had, as he expected, arrived before him. In frontof the Griqualand Saloon a great crowd of miners had assembled, who weretalking excitedly among themselves. The light of the torches shone downupon herculean figures, glaring shirts, and earnest bearded faces.The whole camp appeared to have assembled there to discuss thesituation, and it was evident from their anxious countenances andsubdued voices, that they took no light view of it.
The instant the young man alighted from his horse he was surrounded by aknot of eager questioners. "You've just come from Kimberley," theycried. "What is the truth of it, Mr. Girdlestone? Let us know thetruth of it."
"It's a bad business, my friends," he answered, looking around at thering of inquiring faces. "I have been reading a full account of it inthe _Cape Argus_. They have made a great find in Russia. There seemsto be no doubt at all about the matter."
"D'ye think it will send prices down here as much as they say?"
"I'm afraid it will send them very low. I hold a lot of stones myself,and I should be very glad to get rid of them at any price. I fear itwill hardly pay you to work your claims now."
"And the price of claims will go down?"
"Of course it will."
"Eh, mister, what's that?" cried a haggard, unkempt little man, pushinghis way to the front and catching hold of Ezra's sleeve to ensure hisattention. "Did ye say it would send the price o' claims down?You didn't say that, did you? Why, in course, it stands to reason thatwhat happened in Roosia couldn't make no difference over here.That's sense, mates, ain't it?" He looked round him appealingly, andlaughed a little nervous laugh.
"You try," said Ezra coldly. "If you get one-third of what you gave foryour claim you'll be lucky. Why, man, you don't suppose we producediamonds for local consumption. They are for exporting to Europe, andif Europe is already supplied by Russia, where are you to get yourmarket?"
"That's it?" cried several voices.
"If you take my advice," Ezra continued, "you'll get rid of what youhave at any loss, for the time may be coming when you'll get nothing atall."
"Now, look at that!" cried the little man, throwing out his hands."They call me Unlucky Jim, and Unlucky Jim I'll be to the end of thechapter. Why, boss, me and Sammy Walker has sunk every damned centwe've got in that claim, the fruit o' nine years' hard work, and hereyou comes ridin' up as cool as may be, and tells me that it's all gonefor nothing."
"Well, there are others who will suffer as well as you," said one of thecrowd.
"I reckon we're all hit pretty hard if this is true," remarked another.
"I'm fair sick of it," said the little man, passing his grimy handacross his eyes and leaving a black smear as he did so. "This ain't thefirst time--no, nor the second--that my luck has played me this trick.I've a mighty good mind to throw up my hand altogether."
"Come in and have some whisky," said a rough sympathizer, and theunlucky one was hustled in through the rude door of the GriqualandSaloon, there to find such comfort as he might from the multitudinousbottles which adorned the interior of that building. Liquor had lostits efficacy that evening, however, and a dead depression rested overthe little town. Nor was it confined to Dutoitspan. All along thediggings the dismal tidings spread with a rapidity which wasastonishing. At eleven o'clock there was consternation at Klipdrift.At quarter-past one Hebron was up and aghast at the news. At three inthe morning a mounted messenger galloped into Bluejacket, and beforedaybreak a digger committee was sitting at Delporte's Hope discussingthe situation. So during that eventful night down the whole long lineof the Vaal River there was ruin and heartburning and dismay, while fivethousand miles away an old gentleman was sleeping calmly and dreamlesslyin his comfortable bed, from whose busy brain had emanated all thismisery and misfortune.
Perhaps the said old gentleman might have slumbered a little lessprofoundly could he have seen the sight which met his son's eyes on thefollowing morning. Ezra had passed the night at Dutoitspan, in the hutof a hospitable miner. Having risen in the morning, he was dressinghimself in a leisurely, methodical fashion, when his host, who had beeninhaling the morning breeze, thrust his head through the window.
"Come out here, Mr. Girdlestone," he cried. "There's some fun on.One of the boys is dead drunk, and they are carrying him in."
Ezra pulled on his coat and ran out. A little group of miners werewalking slowly up the main street. He and his host were waiting for theprocession to pass them with several jocose remarks appropriate to theoccasion ready upon their lips, when their eyes fell upon a horriblesplotchy red track which marked the road the party had taken. They bothran forward with exclamations and inquiries.
"It's Jim Stewart," said one of the bearers. "Him that they used tocall Unlucky Jim."
"What's up with him?"
"He has shot himself through the head. Where d'ye think we found him?Slap in the middle o' his own claim, with his fingers dug into thegravel, as dead as a herring."
"He's a bad plucked 'un to knock under like that," Ezra's companionremarked.
"Yes," said the croupier of the saloon gambling table. "If he'd waitedfor another deal he might have held every trump. He was always
a softchap, was Jim, and he was saying last night as how this spoiled the lastchance he was ever like to have of seeing his wife and childer inEngland. He's blowed a fine clean hole in himself. Would you like tosee it, Mr. Girdlestone?" The fellow was about to remove theblood-stained handkerchief which covered the dead man's face, but Ezrarecoiled in horror.
"Mr. Girdlestone looks faint like," some one observed.
"Yes," said Ezra, who was white to his very lips. "This has upset merather. I'll have a drop of brandy." As he walked back to the hut, hewondered inwardly whether the incident would have discomposed hisfather.
"I suppose he would call it part of our commercial finesse," he saidbitterly to himself. "However, we have put our hands to the plough, andwe must not let homicide stop us." So saying, he steadied his nerveswith a draught of brandy, and prepared for the labours of the day.