VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER NINE.
A LULL IN THE STORM.
A dry, scorching wind is whirling the pungent red dust-clouds along thestreets of King Williamstown, and early though it be, not much more thannine o'clock, life is at the moment exceeding unpleasant for dwellers inthe Kaffrarian capital as the hot blast sweeps down the wide streets andover the great arid square, powdering the thirsty eucalyptus trees witha layer of sand, penetrating even the coolest and tightest of houses. Aday on which an easy-chair and nankeen garments seem absolutenecessities, and yet in the busy frontier town there is as much life andstir as usual. Waggons load and unload before the principal stores;their oxen standing or lying in the yokes, poor and attenuated, for theseason is a bad one indeed, further up, the country is suffering from averitable drought. Men move about singly or by twos and threes, some inthe semi-military uniform affected by officers holding a command in somefrontier corps, others lightly clad and in broad sombrero-like hat orpith helmet. Round the native shops and canteens bronzed Kafirs squatand jabber, or, jumping on their weedy, undersized nags, dash off at agallop down the street. Here and there, a Police trooper, thesnow-white cover of his peaked cap gleaming in the son, rides brisklyaway from the telegraph office, and the scarlet uniforms of a detachmentof regulars, as they march up from the river, returning from theirmorning bathe, make a glow of shining colour in the close, dusty street.It is an ill wind, however, that blows nobody good, as thedrinking-bars could testify; for the number of persons who enter thoseuseful institutions in the course of the morning--each and all withprecisely the same remark, that it being externally so dry they standall the more in need of a wet within--is so large that I will notattempt to reveal it.
Leaving the stir and the whirl of the brisk trading centre, we will passto a comparatively quiet quarter. In the verandah of a small house, onthe outskirts of the town, some one is standing, looking intentlythrough a pair of field-glasses, which are levelled at a distant object,evidently a horseman rapidly approaching by the road leading from theTranskei. For a moment she stands eager and motionless, gazing with allher might at that dusty road in the distance; then a red flush ofdisappointment tinges the beautiful face as she drops the glass from hereyes, and the graceful, erect figure suddenly assumes an unconsciousdroop.
"The fifth time this morning," she murmurs to herself, dejectedly. "Ideclare I won't look again, it's unlucky."
"So it is, dear. `A watched kettle never boils,' you know," says acheery female voice at her elbow. "That's why I haven't been watchingfor George. He'll come, all in good time; and so will the other one.But you really mustn't stay out in this heat, Lilian, you'll be ill, andthen shan't I catch it!"
"Oh no, I won't," answered Lilian, with a laugh and a blush. "Besides,I like the heat."
"Do you? I wish I did, for I've got to go out in it. I'm not evengoing to ask you to come, because I know it will be impossible to getyou off that verandah until--until--well, until," concluded Annie Paynewith another cheerful laugh, as she started upon her unwilling errand,whatever it was.
Left to herself, Lilian looked wearily out on the wide expanse ofsun-baked _veldt_, watching ever the white straggling road where it lostitself over the rise. Once a figure appeared on the sky-line, and herheart gave a great bound, but it was only a pedestrian, her eyes weresufficiently practised now to tell her that, without the necessity oflooking through the glass. The heat and the scorching wind were nothingto her. It might have been the most exhilarating weather, and she wouldnot have felt the difference, for to-day her lover would return--returnto her, after more than two months of campaigning, two months of dangerand hardship and separation; and now she watched the road, impatientlypacing the verandah, and longing for his arrival. Yet he came not. Shehad done nothing but scan the approaches to the town through thefield-glass; but what to the naked eye had more than once looked likethe well-known form, had speedily changed to that of some ungainlyDutchman, or sooty native, when the powerful lens was brought to bearupon it.
Yes, the campaign is over now--at least, for the present; and thevolunteers and burgher forces are returning home, leaving to the MountedPolice and Regulars the task of patrolling the Gcaleka country--thatbeing about all there is left to do. The summer is well advanced; infact, it wants only a fortnight to Christmas, and the frontiersmencomposing the colonial forces decline to remain any longer doing merepatrol work. They have borne their part gallantly in the actualfighting, and now that this is at an end they rightly deem themselvesentitled to return. So there is great rejoicing in the little domicilein King Williamstown where George Payne has installed his householdduring his absence at the front, and now, on this bright, thoughoverpoweringly hot day, Lilian stands in the verandah watching for thereturn of her lover.
What an anxious time to her have been those two months! How she hasthought of him, and in spirit been with him all through the campaign!How eagerly she has sought out every scrap of news of the forces in thefield, whether in the newspaper reports or the telegrams _affiche_-doutside the post office! And at night she has lain awake picturing allmanner of dreadful contingencies till her pillow was wet with tears; butshe can do nothing--nothing but weep and pray. And now the time ofwaiting is past, and she will see him again to-day, and lay her headupon his breast and feel that life is too good to live.
But if he should not come till to-morrow or the next day! Something mayhave detained him. An accident perhaps, such things do happen. Herhead begins to ache, and she goes into the house in search of somecooling restorative. She has the house to herself fortunately--for thechildren are out somewhere--and sinking into a low chair she holds herhandkerchief, steeped in the grateful liquid, to her throbbing brows.At last, with a sickening sense of blankness--of hope deferred, at herheart, she falls asleep, worn out by the heat and the watching comingupon a night of wakefulness.
The molten hours creep on. The deep bass voices of a group of Kafirpassers-by, momentarily break their stillness; the thrifty Germanhousewife opens the door of the dwelling opposite--for it is a newquarter, and the houses are built almost in the _veldt_--and throws apailful of stuff to her fowls, which run clucking up; but no tramp ofhoofs disturbs the midday quiet.
Suddenly Lilian awakes. Is it an instinct, or is it the clink of a spurand a light, firm tread on the _stoep_ outside, that makes her start upand hasten to the door? In the passage she collides against a man whois entering, and with a quick exclamation he catches her in his arms.
"Arthur--love--is it indeed you? I am not dreaming, am I?" she murmurs,clinging tightly to him, the rich voice vibrating with uncontrollableemotion. "It is you--at last--darling. And I have been waiting andwatching so long--till I began to think all sorts of dreadful thingsmust have happened," and raising her head from his breast she looks athim, laughing and weeping at the same time in her ecstasy of joy.
"Yes; it's myself all right," he replies, kissing away the tears fromher cheeks and eyes. "But I shall begin to think it's some one elsedirectly, because this is far and away too good for me--too good for meto believe in. Lilian, my life! Every day since we parted I have beenlooking forward to and waiting for this."
"Ah God! I have got my darling back again safe--safe!" she murmursalmost inaudibly, but Claverton hears it, and he does not answer, heonly tightens his clasp of the lithe, willowy figure which he holds inhis embrace, and covers the soft dusky hair, lying against his cheek,with passionate kisses. A thousand years of ten times the peril andhardship he has gone through since they parted would be a small price topay for such a moment as this, he thinks. They make a pleasant picture,those two, as they stand there. He--well-knit, grave, handsome, in therough picturesqueness of his campaigning attire, his features bronzed byexposure to sun and climate, and with his normal air of quiet resolutiondeepened and enhanced by a sense of many dangers recently passedthrough; looking at her with a tender, protecting reverence. She--soft,graceful, and clinging--the sweet lips curving into a succession ofradiant s
miles even while her eyes are yet wet with the tears which anuncontrollable feeling of love and thankfulness has evoked.
"So you thought I was never going to put in an appearance, darling?" hesays, at length.
"Ah, how I waited and longed! But I can forget it now--now that I havegot you. Wait! You look so much better for the dreadful time you havebeen through, dearest, so strong and well. And you are not going offagain, are you? The war is over now."
"I hope so," is his rather weary reply. "I'm tired of ruffians and camplife--utterly sick of them. Not but what the said ruffians are rathergood fellows; but peace is better than fighting, when all's said anddone. By the way, how is it we have the house all to ourselves? Thisis an unusual run of luck, my Lilian."
"Mrs Payne is out somewhere, and the children too. And--"
"And--why didn't you go with them, instead of moping in here alone allthe morning?"
"Arthur!"
"Lilian! Don't look so shocked, my darling. Do you think I don't knowperfectly, that you wouldn't lose a chance of getting the first glimpseof a certain broken-down and war-worn ragamuffin?"
A shadow darkened the light. Both looked up quickly as a slim,well-made native, standing in the doorway, raised his hand above hishead and sang out lustily, "Inkos!"
"Hallo, Sam!" cried Claverton, not best pleased with the interruption."How are you getting on?"
The native showed a double row of dazzling "ivories" as he grinned ingenuine delight at seeing his master back again.
"Did you kill many--very many of the Amaxosa, my chief?" he asked, inthe Zulu tongue.
"H'm. Many of those who got in front of my gun-barrels up there, metwith bad accidents," replied his master, drily.
Sam chuckled and grinned. His exultation could hardly contain itself.
"Ha, Missie Liliane," he said, in his broken English, "Sam he tell youso. Inkos, he kill lots, lots of Amaxosa nigga. He shoot, shoot them--so, so," and he began snapping his fingers vehemently, and otherwisepantomiming the sharp-shooting of a body of skirmishers. "Sam, he tellyou so, Missie Liliane. Amaxosa nigga no good! They no can hurt Inkos.Sam, he tell you so. Inkos, he shoot, shoot them instead. Amaxosanigga no good. Haow!"
"Sam, you rascal, shut up that," cried Claverton, good-humouredly. "Cutfound to the stable and look after the horse; I've ridden the poor brutenearly to death. Give him a good rub down, and see that he's coolbefore he drinks. D'you hear?"
"Teh bo 'Nkos," answered Sam, and he disappeared; and they could hearhim as he passed beneath the open window, humming to a sort of chant ofhis own: "Aow! Amaxosa nigga no good--no good."
"Has that chap behaved himself while I've been away, darling?" askedClaverton.
"Behaved himself? Why, he's the best of boys. Sometimes when I feltvery, very downhearted about the war, that dear, good Sam would try allin his power to cheer me up, and persuade me that you would be sure notto come to harm, love. He used to declare that the Kafirs were sure torun away whenever you appeared, and he cut such extraordinary antics,always bringing in that ridiculous phrase of his, that he kept me infits of laughter. Yes, he has been as good as possible."
"That's a feather in Sam's cap, and a deuced good thing for him. Wasn'tit queer, my falling in with all the old lot up there? They were alljust the same; even Jeffreys hasn't quite laid by his scowl, and as forJack Armitage, he's a greater lunatic than ever. I hope our littlefriend keeps a tight rein on him at his hearth and home, for in thefield there was no holding the fellow. He has started a frightful thingin bugles, which he toots upon vehemently on the smallest provocation,though, by Jove, I was glad enough to hear that braying old post-hornonce, when Brathwaite's men turned the tables in our favour in anawkwardish scrimmage."
It was a remarkable coincidence that as he uttered these words aterrific fanfare should be sounded outside.
"That's it! Jack's post-horn for anything!" cried he, making for thewindow. "Talk of the--ah'm! Wonder what the fellow's doing here. And,look, there's George Payne and the rest of them."
The whole lot of them it was, and a minute later they all entered,laughing and talking at a great rate.
"Why, Jack, what the deuce are _you_ doing up here?" cried Claverton, inastonishment.
"We forgot it might be necessary to obtain Mr Claverton's permission totread the streets of King Williamstown," demurely said a voice at hiselbow, before the other could reply.
Claverton turned.
"Oh--ah--ah'm! So _we_ did. I forgot. How d'you do, Mrs Armitage?"he said, looking quizzically down at the bright, saucy face of thespeaker.
Gertie Armitage--_nee_ Wray--laughed and blushed as she shook hands withhim. She looked much the same as when last we saw her, a triflesaucier, perhaps, but that was only natural, said her friends, seeingthat she had to look after madcap Jack.
That worthy, meanwhile, was endeavouring to initiate Payne's son andheir into the mysteries of the key bugle, but the youngster could evokeno sound from the same, and was ready to cry with chagrin.
"Look here, Harry, this is the dodge," and, putting the instrument tohis lips, he emitted a series of diabolical and heartrending blasts.
"Jack--Jack!" cried Claverton, stopping his ears, "for Heaven's sakedrop that fiendish row, or you'll have all the Germans in the quarterscuttling under their beds, thinking that the Gaikas have risen, andsome fellow has come to commandeer them to go to the front."
"Fiendish row! There's gratitude for you," retorted Armitage. "Hedidn't call it a fiendish row that day down near the Bashi, did he,Payne?"
"No, it was all right then," rejoined Claverton. "Music in the wrongplace, you know, degenerates into a diabolical row. Keep the oldpost-horn for the ghosts at Spoek Krantz, Jack. They'd appreciate itkeenly."
"Oh, the ingratitude of human nature!" exclaimed the bugler. "But I'veleft Spoek Krantz."
"Have you? Ah, I thought the ghosts would be too much for you some day.Where are you now?"
"Nowhere. Got a roving commission. When the country's quiet again I'mgoing to take over that place next door to Hicks. By the way, youshould just see Hicks now, a model family man. Would hardly leave hismissis and brace of kids even to go and have a shot at old Kreli. Wealmost had to lug him away by force."
"When the country is quiet again I'm going to do this," he had said, andin such wise do we mortals airily make our plans. Meanwhile all washilarity and gladness and contentment in that circle, for was it not areunion of those dear to each other, after the trials, and perils, andprivations of a hard chapter of savage warfare?
Lilian was very happy in the days that followed; and to her lover, afterthe rough camp life, the toil and the battle, with all the hardeningassociations, the sunny quiet spent in the companionship of thisrefined, beautiful woman, was as the very peace of Heaven. Oft-times ashe watched the sweet eyes kindle at his approach, and heard the firm,low voice shake ever so slightly, his heart would thrill and his cheekflush with a fierce elation over his absolute sense of possessing therich, the priceless gift of her entire love; and then would succeed amomentary wave of despondency as he thought how this must be far toomuch happiness to fall to his lot, and with the thought something verylike an unspoken prayer--wild, passionate, and unbridled in burden evenas his own resolute nature--would shape itself within his heart, thatrather than again experience such a blow as that which had sent himforth a desolate wanderer years ago--he might die--a hundred deaths, ifneed be, so that obliteration came to him at last. And had there beenroom for it, his tenderness towards Lilian would have redoubled withthese reflections; but there was not--it was always the same.
"Be quick, darling," he said to her one day, as she was leaving the roomfor a moment to fetch some necessary implement missing from herwork-basket. "I hate to have you out of my sight for half a minute morethan is inevitable."
The two were alone together, and he pitched his book across the roomimpatiently as he spoke. She turned and came back to him.
"Why, I
wonder you're not quite tired of me," she said, with her sunnysmile, bending over him and toying with his hair.
"Tired of you! _My_ Lilian. The only being on earth for me to love.The capacity has been kept so long in reserve that now there's noholding it."
She bent lower and laid her cheek against his brow. "Yes, Arthur. Weare both alone in the world for each other--are we not?" she whispered;then, suddenly escaping from his would-be detaining arm, she darted tothe door, turning to flash upon him a bright, loving look before shewent out; and he, rising, kicked over a chair and then another, andopened and threw down three or four books without gleaning an idea oftheir contents, and walked to the window, then back again, and whistled,and otherwise fidgeted outrageously until her return.
Lose not a minute of your happiness, ye two; gather to the full thesweets of the present, even while ye may, for ye know not what thefuture may have in store. Even yet the war-cloud hangs threatening onthe horizon; it has lifted, but has not vanished. Amid the rage of theelements may suddenly fall peace. It is but a lull in the tempest.
To some of his former companions-in-arms, who lived in the town orneighbourhood, Claverton was an unfailing source of wonder.
"I should never have known the fellow," one of them would say, as theydiscussed him among themselves. "Why, most of us in camp used to lookupon Claverton as a man with no more heart than a stone. A fellow whowould close the eyes of his twin brother and then sit down to a jollygood breakfast, and crack a joke about it,"--the speaker's idea of theacme of callousness. "And now he's making a perfect fool of himselfabout a girl--hardly leaves her for a moment, they say. I can'tunderstand it," and the speaker knocked the ashes out of his pipe with ajerk and a shrug, implying half pity, half contempt.
"You could if you had seen her," said another, quietly. "She's awfullyfetching."
"So I'm told. But still--such a hard nail as Claverton. I can't makeit out."
Thus spoke his companions-in-arms. It could not be expected, however,that these plain, honest, matter-of-fact frontiersmen should give himcredit for possessing a two-sided nature. They merely spoke of him asthey had seen him.
One day the two were walking along the upper end of the market-square.It was in the middle of the forenoon, and though warm, a fine day, andthe traffic on the footway was tolerably brisk, while around anauctioneer's table a goodly crowd was assembled, and the sale went on inspirited fashion. They were stopped by some mutual acquaintance, andClaverton, taking advantage of the incident, left Lilian talking tothese, while he dived into the throng for a moment to speak to some onewhom he had suddenly caught sight of. When he returned, he found Lilianstanding alone, their friends having taken their leave and passed on.
"So sorry you've had to wait, darling--even a minute. Why, what is it?"For she was looking a trifle perturbed.
"Nothing. Really nothing. Let's go on."
"Is it the heat? We'll go home. It is rather overwhelming, of course;I ought to have remembered," he said, anxiously.
"No, it isn't too hot in the least," she answered. Then taking a quick,furtive look behind: "Arthur--wait--now look round--quick! There'ssomebody following us."
He turned rapidly and scanned the crowd. No one seemed to be making ofthem a special point of observation.
"I don't see any one out of the common. See if you can point him out,dear."
"No. He is gone; I could see him shrink out of sight directly I lookedround the second time," she said, excitedly, twirling the handle of hersun-shade. "I wouldn't say anything at first, thinking it might be myfancy; but I could see him eyeing you as you went in among all thosepeople just now. He was standing on the pavement--there."
"Well, he's disappeared now, at any rate," said Claverton, again lookingcarefully around. "What was the animal like--white or black?"
"Neither. A sort of dirty brown colour, not at all like a native ofthese parts. He had woolly hair, though, and a hideous, wrinkled facewith two pointed, shark-like teeth; and he was looking at you sofiercely," and she shuddered. "And oh--Arthur--when I looked roundagain and saw those glaring eyes following on so close behind us, itquite frightened me."
Claverton was puzzled. Nine Englishmen out of ten would have gentlypooh-poohed the idea as mere fancy; but his life had been too full ofstrange and startling experiences for that.
"Have you no secret enemy? No one who would owe you a grudge?" shecontinued, in a tone of deep anxiety. "That man looked murder at you."
"N-no; I can't call to mind any. Most likely a case of mistakenidentity. The fellow must have taken me for some one else, and bolteddirectly I looked round for fear of being brought to book. That was it,dear, depend upon it; so don't think anything more about the concern,"he concluded, with the air of a man who has successfully solved amystery. But he wished he had caught a glimpse of the mysteriousindividual all the same.
The incident had a depressing effect upon Lilian which she was quiteunable to shake off. That some terrible danger was hovering over andthreatening her lover she was certain; and the idea of being tracked andwatched by a secret foe was to her fraught with horror. But it was forhim she feared--for this man whom every day rendered more unspeakablydear to her, and for whom, retiring, even timid as her nature was, shecould be brave as a lion, even to the giving of her own life to shieldhim from harm. Of his past she knew but little--as yet he had not toldher much, and in all the fulness of her love and trust she took a pridein abstaining from asking him; but that it had been more eventful thanthe lives of most men of his age she had gathered, and what relentlessenemies might he not have, now surely and stealthily pursuing him? Manya glance of admiration was cast on her--in her serene, dignified beauty,which the troubled thoughtfulness now clouding her face only seemed toenhance--as they passed along the busy streets; and people began toinquire of each other who those two were who were never seen apart, andwho looked such a well-matched couple.
Meanwhile, the political outlook was becoming gloomier every day, forthe warlike tribes of the Gaikas and Hlambis--whose locations comprisedsome of the wildest and most inaccessible parts of Kaffraria--were onthe verge of revolt. The stage of sullen restlessness and daringoutrage was about to culminate in open warfare, and no doubt now existedthat these savages intended to rise and make common cause with theirbrethren the Gcalekas, who, though decimated and dispersed, were as faras ever from being subdued. And, when compared with the rising nowthreatening, the fighting in Gcalekaland was a mere fleabite, for thelatter had been localised in the Transkei, whereas this would envelopethe whole Eastern frontier in the flames of war. Day by day the lowrumblings of the gathering storm increased, and from far and near thefamilies of the settlers came crowding into King Williamstown. Everyhotel and lodging-house was crammed, and not a room was obtainable forlove or money. Many lived in their tent-waggons, failing moresubstantial shelter, and the pastureland in the immediate neighbourhoodseemed in danger of exhaustion from the multitudes of live stock whichgrazed thereon. The telegraph was actively at work, hourly flashing itsmessages of alarm or reassurance according as the latest turn of eventswarranted; while many-tongued rumour hinted at a decisive move pendingon the part of the enemy beyond the border simultaneously with therising of the tribes within the same. It was understood that theburgher forces were liable to be called out at any moment, and among thetownsmen fresh volunteers were enrolled, and drill and parades went onnight and day in view of the probability that the regular troops ingarrison would be ordered to take the field, and that the townspeoplemust be ready to protect themselves.
And as if the scourge of impending war--the merciless warfare of thesavage--was not enough, the land lay parched up with drought.Transport-riders from up-country had gruesome tales to tell of roadslined with rotting carcases or bleached skeletons of trek-oxen, whichhad succumbed unable to find nourishment in the burnt-up grass, orperishing on the margin of water-holes reduced to patches of dry, bakedmud--pointing to their own attenuated spans in corroborat
ion of theirstatements. The crops were failing, and, already in some districts, theappearance of locusts in sufficiently formidable swarms was reported;and the scant herbage, which the drought had spared, would be in dangerof disappearing entirely before this new and redoubtable plague. Tradewas at a standstill, and, amid the all-pervading apprehension and gloomyoutlook, it was universally held that the sooner the rising took placethe better. So Christmas approached; but it was not with joy orgladness that men's hearts looked forward to the kindly festival in thatburning Southern midsummer, for the deserted farms and homesteads toldtheir own tale, and the savage enemy sullenly sat still, biding his owntime. The war-cloud hung brooding over the land darker and darker.