CHAPTER THE SEVENTH--John runs the Farm
Within three months of Mr. Halliday's arrival at his farm, which henamed Alloway after the village of his father's birth, the place hadassumed the orderly appearance of a prosperous settlement. The knollwas crowned by a neat bungalow; two hundred yards below it stood twowooden huts appropriated to Said Mohammed and the mistris; at somedistance from this a row of cattle-sheds had been erected; and beyondthese stood the grass huts of Wasama and his son and Lulu the negress,these being all who remained of the original party. Pens had been madefor the sheep and goats; about twenty acres of land had been preparedfor planting when the rains began; and a dairy had been started, beingcut out of the side of the knoll on which the bungalow stood, for thesake of coolness and protection from the sun and dust.
The work of the Indians being finished for the present, Mr. Hallidaythought of paying them off; but reflecting that more fencing would beneeded by and by, as well as lambing-pens and cattle-sheds as the stockincreased, he decided to retain the men, even though he could not makefull use of them.
It chanced one day that a Swahili came to the farm with a letter fromMr. Gillespie, enclosing one addressed to Mr. Halliday, and bearing theGlasgow postmark and a date nine weeks back. The flap of the envelopebore the name and address of a firm of lawyers unknown to Mr. Halliday,and he opened the letter with some curiosity mixed with apprehension.
"Well now," he exclaimed, as he hastily read it, "this is a pretty fix."
"What is it, father?" asked John.
"You've heard me speak of my uncle Alec--the old curmudgeon who lived byhimself and hasn't spoken to any of his family for twenty years. Well,the poor old man is dead, and these people, Wright and MacKellar, tellme that he left no will, and understanding that I am the next of kin,they urge me to come to Glasgow and make good my title. The letter waswritten nearly three months ago, and seems by the look of the envelopeto have had an adventurous career."
"But hadn't your uncle any children?"
"One daughter. She married without his consent: I forget the man'sname, and I haven't heard about her for five-and-twenty years."
"What will you do?"
"I'm just thinking. My uncle was a shipowner, and pretty well-to-do:indeed, your poor mother's friends used to advise me to keep in withhim, but I couldn't toady to the old bear. I suppose I ought to goback, and yet!---- It's rather upsetting, my boy, just as we aregetting settled. He must have died before we left England, and if I hadknown then, and really inherit his property, we needn't have come out atall, perhaps."
"I'm jolly glad you didn't, then, for I wouldn't have been out of thisfor anything."
"That's all very well, but there's the property: it would be a pity tolose that: shouldn't like it to go out of the family. At the same time,I'm not inclined to give up the farm; we've made a good start, and I'muncommonly interested in it. Besides, I may not be the heir after all;my cousin may be alive: and I should look a pretty fool after going tothis expense if I cleared out and got nothing--like the dog in thefable. I think I'd better take a trip back to Nairobi and seeGillespie. And I'll tell you what I'll do, John. If I decide to gohome, as most likely I shall, I'll find an experienced man in Nairobiand send him up to take charge while I'm away."
"That's rather rotten," said John with a crestfallen look. "I don'twant anybody here bossing me, father. Why not leave me in charge?"
"You're over young, John," replied Mr. Halliday dubiously.
"I'm just on eighteen, and I've got a bit used to things. I learnt alot in that six months at the agricultural college before we started.I'm not exactly a fool, either. Plenty of fellows have gone to theColonies on their own at my age, and done jolly well too. Look at NedCooper; he's got his own ranch in British Columbia, and he's not morethan a year older than I am. Besides, look at the expense. You won'tget a decent Englishman who'll be any good under L300 a year, I shouldthink, and if this business in Glasgow turns out a frost, you'll beprecious sorry you spent the money."
"There's something in that," said Mr. Halliday, stroking his beard."Well, I'll think of it."
The upshot of his meditations was that he decided to do as Johnsuggested. The lad was unfeignedly delighted; the responsibility didnot daunt him; though he said little he felt capable of carrying on thework of the farm, and inwardly resolved to have a good budget to showhis father when he returned. Mr. Halliday spent a good many anxioushours in instilling principles of caution and carefulness into his mind:he gave directions about the steps to be taken to bring the cattle andsheep and dairy produce to market when the proper time came; and thenone day he set off with Coja and a couple of villagers as porters,determined to ask Mr. Gillespie to keep an eye on the boy as far as hecould.
Before leaving he had a little conversation with Said Mohammed, uponwhom he impressed the necessity of paying implicit obedience to hisyoung master, and of helping him in every possible way.
"Verb. sap., sir," said the Bengali. "Mr. John is a chip of the oldblock, a second edition of you, sir, and I esteem myself most fortunateand in clover to do this trivial round for such a superior person."
Things went on very peacefully and on the whole prosperously at the farmafter Mr. Halliday's departure. He sent Coja back from Nairobi with aletter in which he wrote that Mr. Gillespie had advised him to return toEngland, and had promised to pay John a visit if he found time. Therains began soon after Mr. Halliday had gone, and John was mortifiedwhen a few of the sheep died through catching a chill; but apart fromthis misfortune nothing happened to trouble him. He had no difficultieswith the people under his authority. Coja proved to be a handy man;Wasama and his son were excellent herdsmen; and Lulu not only did a fairshare of labour in the fields with the villagers, but excelled inlaundry work, and looked after John's simple wardrobe with a neatnessand care which would have put many a London landlady to the blush. Asfor Said Mohammed, he was a compendium of utilities. He was cook,khansaman, and table-servant rolled into one. He was careful to explainthat in India he would scorn to serve in more than one capacity, but"Tempora mutantur," he quoted impressively, "et nos mutamur in illis."
"Rest, sir, is change of occupation," he said, "and when I haveaccomplished the culinary part of my functions, I make a lightningchange and become a dumb waiter, remembering the beautiful words of theblind epic poet, 'They also serve who only stand and wait.'"
With the beginning of the rains came the season for planting. Mr.Halliday had brought a variety of seeds with him, for though he hoped tomake money out of stock-raising rather than agriculture, and reckoned ongetting cereals from the neighbouring village for his native and Indianworkers, he was not sure that the villagers would always grow enough tosupply their needs, and he wished also to grow English vegetables andfruits for his own consumption. John made a start towards the end ofNovember with oats and wheat; next month he sowed cabbages, peas,tomatoes, potatoes and vegetable marrows, and planted a few apple-treeslips. In January he put in cabbages and onions, and finished off withcauliflowers in February. The great dread of the African cultivator isdrought, but the rains fell almost continuously for three months, sothat there was every prospect of good crops.
The sheep and cattle throve apace. There was no sign of scab orheartwater in the former, but they were troubled for a time by thenostril-fly, a pest that lays its eggs in the nasal passages, causingintense irritation and sometimes a dangerous fever. Two or three of theanimals died, but there happening to be a syringe among the thingsbrought from Nairobi, John made a point every night of thoroughlywashing out the nostrils of the sheep affected, and had the satisfactionof preventing any more deaths from this cause, though he never succeededin banishing the pests. He felt not a little gratified at pulling oneof the bulls through an attack of pneumonia. After a little trouble ininducing the two Masai and Lulu to be scrupulous in washing their hands,he managed to get the dairy into working order. Each cow yielded aboutfour pounds of milk a day, some of which he turned into butter
, whichhis people consumed in enormous quantities. All the spare milk over andabove what was used for food was utilized for making cheese, which wasstored in a deep pit until it could be transported to market at Nairobi.
Being dissatisfied with the grass huts which had originally been erectedby the natives, he set the mistris to build substantial houses of logsand thatch, and found them both cleaner and healthier. They cost nomore than L1 apiece. He also got them to put up a plant-house withwickerwork sides and thatched roof at a cost of L5. Finding that thevillagers possessed fowls, he bought a number, and this provided morework for the carpenters. They built a large hen-house of wood with aniron roof, and fenced in a run of about 1000 square feet in area. Withthe prospect of good crops a barn was necessary, and they erected awooden building with a floor of about 300 square feet. Having no ironleft, he had to roof this with thatch, resolving to buy more galvanizedroofing on his first visit to Nairobi.
Before all this work was finished some of the vegetables and cereals hehad planted grew to maturity. Said Mohammed gave him turnips for dinnerin February; next month he had some fine tomatoes and potatoes, and bythe beginning of April the most delicious peas and vegetable marrows hehad ever tasted. The grain fields, however, suffered a good deal fromthe depredations of weaver birds, and after ineffectual attempts to getrid of these with his rifle and by setting up scarecrows, John resortedto a poison supplied by his native neighbours--a decoction of a certainroot. This proved effective. The wheat was ready for reaping in April,and he was amused to see the natives cut it with knives, they beingquite unable to handle the scythes Mr. Halliday had brought. Theythreshed it with sticks and winnowed it with hand-sieves. There was asmall hand-mill among the farm utensils, and by the end of April Johnenjoyed the unaccustomed luxury of eating bread baked by Said Mohammedin an earthen oven. Only half an acre had been sown with wheat, and asthe yield was 400 lbs. of grain John was thoroughly satisfied. The oatswere not ripe until July, and the yield was much less than that of thewheat; but they made good porridge, and John was able to write to hisfather that when he returned he could have the national breakfast.
John had heard from Mr. Halliday several times since his departure. Thefirst letter arrived early in December, and caused him mingled amusementand vexation.
----
"Here I am, in Glasgow, flourishing as ever. Tennant's stack isbehaving even worse than usual, and the atmosphere makes me fair sickafter the air of Kenya. I had a horrible passage: we were terriblyknocked about in the Bay, and I got a black eye one night through beingpitched out of my bunk and coming into collision with the ledge of theone below. There was a teetotal commercial on board (rare bird), wholooked at me very suspiciously at breakfast, and asked me at lunchwhether I drank pot-still or patent. I asked him which was his line,and he got so red that I was uncharitable enough to conjecture he drinkson the sly.
"But here I am, and I think I've made a fool of myself in coming; forwhen I called at Wright and MacKellar's they showed me a cable they hadjust received from the Cape. 'Halliday's daughter inherits; letter thismail.' The death of poor old uncle had of course been announced in the_Herald_, and that goes everywhere, and sure enough when the mail camein there was a letter from some lawyer fellows at Cape Town to say thattheir client, Mrs. Burtenshaw, nee Sylvia Halliday, having seen theannouncement of her father's death, had made arrangements to return toScotland to claim the estate I asked them why the ballachulish theyhadn't waited before they sent for me, and Wright said that if he hadbeen aware that I had changed my domicile (law for left the country, Isuppose) he would certainly have hesitated before putting me to theinconvenience (and expense, I put in) of making so long a voyage. Iasked whether my expenses would come out of the estate, and he said thathe was inclined to believe the trustees would not homologate any claimfor my outgoings. I'm glad you were not a lawyer, after all. I was forstarting back at once, but he wouldn't hear of it: said I must wait tosee whether Mrs. Burtenshaw could substantiate her claim; she might bean impostor, and since the estate is valued at over L100,000 it would bea pity to be out of the way if I turned out to be the heir after all.My cousin's name is Sylvia right enough, and I'm convinced the claimantwill prove her bona-fides, but I suppose I must kick my heels until sheturns up. It's twenty-five years or more since I saw her, and Ishouldn't know her from Lulu, so I can't help to identify her.Altogether I'm very unhappy. Tell me how you're getting on. I amwearying until I get back, and on thorns in case anything goes wrong.God bless you!
"P.S.--Don't forget that cabbages and cauliflowers must be transplanted_about five weeks_ after they are sown."
----
This was vexing enough, but when the next letter came, saying that Mrs.Burtenshaw was laid up with bronchitis and would be unable to travel forsome time, John was thoroughly distressed. He knew how his father wouldhate hanging on indefinitely, with nothing to do, and no interests tokeep him in St. Mungo's city. Mr. Halliday, however, did not remain inGlasgow. He went to his old home in the south of England, instructingWright and MacKellar to summon him by telegraph when the lady arrived.
As time went on, the stock on the farm was considerably increased by thearrival of healthy lambs and calves. John had expected his father toreturn before it became necessary to drive the animals to Nairobi forsale, and he became seriously concerned as to how that was to be done.Being the only white man on the farm he could not leave it; yet theanimals must be taken to market somehow, for his father was relying onthe proceeds of their sale to replenish his small balance at the bank,which he had had to draw upon to meet the expenses of his prolonged stayin England. John himself was running short of "trade" for the paymentof his native workers from the village, and of ready money for hisimmediate dependants, who required hard cash or notes of the EastAfrican currency. He did not wish to draw on the bank, as his fatherhad authorized him to do; and he knew that the sums realized by the saleof the stock would enable him to carry on for a considerable time, andalso to add to the bank surplus, upon which Mr. Halliday might have todraw at any moment.
There was no one among the hands to whom he could entrust the driving ofthe cattle. Wasama and his boy, no doubt, could do the actual driving,if they were not plundered on the way; but the presence of a white manwould be almost a _sine qua non_ to prevent molestation on the journey.Even in the unlikely chance of Wasama getting the beasts safely toNairobi he could not be expected to sell them to advantage, and SaidMohammed, when John spoke of it to him one day, very franklyacknowledged that the Masai would come off second best in any attempt tobarter with the traders of Nairobi, whether Indian or European.
"You have to be up to snuff, sir," said the Bengali, "in dealing withgentlemen of business capacity. Wasama is a very good chap: I have highopinion of his honesty, et cetera; but honesty is no go in marketswithout the possession of considerable acumen, and Wasama has not hadthe advantage of gaining that familiarity with the methods ofcivilization, which, as the proverb says, breeds contempt," anunconsciously double-edged remark which did not amuse John.
Of course he might ask the help of Mr. Gillespie, which would no doubtbe very willingly given; but John was very reluctant to let things outof his own hands, having a full share of Anglo-Saxon independence. Thematter, at any rate, was not immediately urgent. Two or three moremonths must pass before the young animals were weaned and fit toundertake the long journey; and John still hoped that by the time thesale of them became imperative his father would have returned.
It was about six months after Mr. Halliday left that John received thefollowing letter from him--
"The lady has arrived. She's a very decent, respectable widow body. Shehas brought all her family, two boys and a girl--a pretty creature, theimage of her mother when I first knew her. The widow produced her birthcertificate and a series of photographs, the first showing her in herfather's arms at about a week old, for all the world as if he were aroyalty displayin
g the infant to a crowd of grandees. Wright andMacKellar are satisfied, which is more than I am, coming all this way onsuch a fool's errand. The widow wanted to repay me the L100 or so I'vewasted, but of course I couldn't hear of that. I expect to sail nextweek. Glad to hear you're getting on well.
"P.S.--I suppose you haven't seen anything of those young Brownes? I'dbe a deal happier if I knew you had neighbours."
A week later came a brief note.
"Fate's got a downer on me. I was fool enough to go for a ride in thewidow's new 40 h.-p. Panhard. The chauffeur ran us into a dyke; therest got bruises, but I survive with a broken leg. Tony Weller wasright: beware of widders."
Since then no news had come, and John grew anxious, though he reflectedthat he would have heard if his father was seriously ill.