'Tween Snow and Fire: A Tale of the Last Kafir War
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CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
EUSTACE BECOMES UNPOPULAR.
The state of excitement prevailing in Komgha during the period ofhostilities within the Transkei, was as nothing to that which prevailednow that the tide of war was rolling around the very outposts of thesettlement itself.
The once sleepy little village had become a vast armed camp, garrisonedby regular troops, as well as being the halting place for numerousbodies of irregulars--mounted burghers or Fingo levies--once more calledout or volunteering for active service, the latter with more zest thistime, inasmuch as the enemy was within their very gates. It was theheadquarters of operations, and all day long--frequently all night too--what with expeditions or patrols setting out, or returning, orpreparing; the arrival of reinforcements; the flash and trappings of themilitary element; the exaggerated and conflicting rumours varying withevery half-hour that went by. With all these things, we say, thesojourners in that favoured settlement found things as lively as theycould wish.
There was no mistaking the position of affairs now. The Gaikas, whoselocations occupied the whole northern half of British Kaffraria, theHlambi clans, who held the rugged country along the eastern slopes ofthe Amatola Mountains, were all up in arms. All, that is, save aninsignificant fraction, who applied to the Government for protection as`loyals'; their loyalty consisting in taking no part in hostilitiesthemselves, but aiding with supplies and information those who did--aswell as affording a refuge in time of need to the women and cattlebelonging to their hostile countrymen. Communication with the Colonywas practically cut off--for, except to strong parties, the KingWilliamstown road was closed. A strong escort, consisting of Police andmilitary, was attacked within a few miles of the settlement itself, onlygetting through by dint of hard fighting; and ever in their bushy hidingplaces, on the surrounding hills, hovered dark clouds of armed Savagesready to swoop down upon lonely express-rider or waggon traininsufficiently guarded. The smoke of ruined homesteads rose from thefair plains of British Kaffraria, and by night the lurid signals of thehostile barbarians flamed forth from many a lofty peak.
In the Transkei matters were rather worse than before the previous threemonths of campaigning. Very far from crushed, the Gcalekas swarmed backinto their oft-swept country, and with the aid of their new allies setto work with redoubled ardour to make things as lively for the white manas they possibly could. This kept nearly all the forces then at thefront actively employed in that direction, leaving the field open to theresidue of the Gaikas and Hlambis to burn and pillage throughout BritishKaffraria at their own sweet will. The destruction of property wasgreat and widespread.
Still, on the whole, men seemed rather to enjoy the prevailing state ofthings than otherwise, even those who were severe losers, strange tosay. The colonial mind, adventurous at bottom, dearly loves excitement,once it has drunk at that enchanted fountain. Perhaps one of the bestillustrations of this is to be found in the numbers who remained, and doremain, on at Johannesburg after the collapse, in a state ofsemi-starvation--rather than exchange the liveliness and stir of thatrestless and mushroom town for the surer but more sober conditions oflife offered by the scenes of their birth. In British Kaffraria, therenewed outbreak of hostilities afforded plenty of excitement, whichwent as a set-off against the aforesaid losses--for the time being atany rate. Those who had already taken part in the first campaign eithervolunteered for the second or stayed at home and talked about both.Though whether he had been out or not made no difference as regarded thetalking part of it, for every man jack you might meet in a day'swandering was open to give you his opinion upon what had been done, andwhat hadn't been done; above all upon what _should_ have been done; in aword, felt himself entirely competent to direct the whole of the fieldoperations there and then, and without even the traditional minute'snotice.
But however enjoyable all this may have been to society at large, asthere represented, there was one to whom it was intolerably irksome, andthat one was Eustace Milne. The reasons for this were diverse. In thefirst place, in the then crowded state of the community, he could hardlyever obtain an opportunity of talking, with Eanswyth alone; which wasnot wholly without advantage in that it enabled the latter to keep upher _role_; for if her former sorrowing and heart-wrung condition hadnow become the hollowest mockery, there was no reason why everybodyshould be informed thereof, but very much the reverse. He could not seeher alone in the house, for it was always full of people, and when itwas not, still, the walls were thin. He could not take her for a rideoutside the settlement, for in those early days the enemy was daring,and did not always keep at a respectful distance. It would not do torun any more risks. In the next place, all the "talking big," andindeed the talking at all, that went on, morning, noon, and night, onthe well-worn, and threadbare topic was wearisome to him. The thing hadbecome, in fact, a bore of the first water. But the most distastefulside of it all was the notoriety which he himself had, allinvoluntarily, attained. A man who had been reported slain, and thenturned up safe and sound after having been held a prisoner for someweeks by the savage and ordinarily ruthless enemy they were thenfighting, was sure to attract considerable attention throughout thefrontier community. Friends, neighbours, intimates, people they hadnever seen or heard of before, would call on the Hostes all day andevery day--literally in swarms, as the victim of these attentions putit--in order to see Eustace, and haply, to extract a "yarn" as to hislate captivity. If he walked through the township some effusiveindividual was bound to rush at him with an "I say, Mister, 'scuse me,but we're told you're the man that was taken prisoner by old Kreli.Now, do us the favour to step round and have a drink. We don't see aman who has escaped from them black devils every day." And then, underpain of being regarded as churlish to a degree, he would find himselfcompelled to join a group of jovial, but under the circumstancesexcessively unwelcome, strangers, and proceed to the nearest bar to becross questioned within an inch of his life, and expected to put awaysundry "splits" that he did not want. Or those in charge of operations,offensive and defensive, would make his acquaintance and ask him todine, always with the object of eliciting useful information. But tothese Eustace was very reticent and proved, in fact, a soredisappointment. He had been treated fairly well by his captors. Theywere savages, smarting under a sense of defeat and loss. They mighthave put him to death amid cruel torments; instead of which they hadgiven him his liberty. For the said liberty he had yet to pay--to paypretty smartly, too, but this was only fair and might be looked upon inthe light of ransom. He was not going to give any information to theirdetriment merely because, under a doubtfully administered system oforganisation, they had taken up arms against the Colony. Besides, as amatter of fact, it was doubtful whether he had any information to give.
So his entertainers were disappointed. Everyone who accosted him uponthe objectionable topic was disappointed. He became unpopular.
The infinitesimal intellect of the community felt slighted. The farfrom infinitesimal sense of self-importance of the said community waswounded to the core. Here was a man who had passed through strange andstartling experiences which everyone else was dying to share--at secondhand. Yet he kept them to himself. Who was he, indeed, they would liketo know? Other men, had they gone through the same experiences, wouldhave had them on tap all day long, for the benefit of all comers, goodmeasure and brimming over. This one, on the contrary, was as close asdeath itself. Who was he that he should affect a singularity?
When a man is unpopular in a small community, he is pretty sure beforelong to be made aware of that fact. In this instance there were notwanting individuals the ingenuity of whose inventive powers was equal tothe occasion. No wonder Milne was reticent as to what he had gonethrough--hinted these--for it was almost certainly not to his credit.It was a singular thing that he should have emerged from the ordealunhurt and smiling, while poor Tom Carhayes had been mercilesslybutchered. It looked, fishy--uncommonly so. The more you looked at it,the more it began to take
on the aspect of a put-up job. Indeed itwould not be surprising if it turned out that the expedition across theBashi was a cunningly devised trap, not originating with the Kafirseither. The escape of Hoste and Payne was part of the programme--nomotive existing why these two should be put out of the way.
Motive? Motive for desiring Tom Carhayes' death? Well, any fool couldsee that, one might have thought. Was there not a young and beautifulwidow in the case--who would succeed lo the dead man's extremelycomfortable possessions, and whom, by this time, any one could see withhalf an eye, was desperately in love with the plotting and unscrupulouscousin? That was motive enough, one would think.
It was easy, moreover, now to see through the predilection of thatarch-schemer for their native neighbours and now enemies. It was allpart of the plot. Doubtless he was even no sending them secretinformation and advice in return for what they had done for him. Itwould be surprising if he turned out anything better than a Kafir spy,were the real truth known.
These amiable hints and innuendoes, sedulously buzzed around, were notlong in reaching the object of them. But they affected his impenetrableself-possession about as much as the discharge of a pea-shooter mightaffect the back of the mail-plated armadillo. His philosophical mindsaw no earthly reason for disturbing itself about any rumours which apack of spiteful idiots might choose to set afloat. Hoste's advice tohim, to run two or three of these amiable gentry to earth and visit themwith a good sound kicking, only made him laugh. Why should he mind whatanybody said? If people chose to believe it they might--but if theydidn't they wouldn't, and that was all about it.
True, he was tempted, on one or two occasions, to follow his friend'sadvice--and that was when Eanswyth was brought into the matter. But heremembered that you cannot strangle a widespread slander by force, andthat short of the direst necessity the association in an ordinary row ofany woman's name is justifiable neither by expediency nor good taste.But he resolved to get her to move down to Swaanepoel's Hoek at the veryearliest opportunity.