The Settler and the Savage

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER TWO.

  INTRODUCES A CAPE DUTCHMAN AND HIS FAMILY, AND SHOWS THE UNCERTAINTY OFHUMAN PLANS.

  The break of day found Charlie Considine and Hans Marais gallopinglightly over the karroo towards a range of mountains which, on theprevious evening, had appeared like a faint line of blue on the horizon.

  The sun was just rising in a blaze of splendour, giving promise of anoppressive day, when the horsemen topped a ridge beyond which lay theprimitive buildings of a frontier farm.

  Considine uttered an exclamation of surprise, and looked inquiringly athis companion.

  "My father's farm," said Hans, drawing rein and advancing at afoot-pace.

  "A lovely spot," returned his companion, "but I cannot say much for thebuildings."

  "They are well suited to their purpose nevertheless," said Hans;"besides, would it be wise to build fine houses for Kafirs to burn?"

  "Is being burnt by Kafirs the necessary end of all frontier farms?"asked Considine, with a smile.

  "Not the necessary, but the probable end. Many a one has been burnt intimes gone by, and many a one will be burnt again, if the Government andpeople in England do not recognise and admit the two great facts, thatthe interest as well as the main desire of the frontier settler is_peace_, while the chief delight as well as business of the Kafir is_war_. But I suppose that you, being an Englishman, will not believethat until conviction is forced on you by experience.--Come, I willintroduce you to one of those colonists who are supposed to be suchdiscontented fire-eaters; I think he will receive you hospitably."

  The young farmer put spurs to his horse as he spoke, and dashed awayover the plain, closely followed by his new friend, who was not sorry todrop the conversation, being almost entirely ignorant of the merits ofthe question raised.

  The style of the group of buildings to which they drew near was notentirely unfamiliar to Considine, for he had passed one or two similarfarms, belonging to Cape Dutchmen, on his trip from the sea-coast to theinterior. There were about this farm, however, a few prominent pointsof difference. The cottages, being built of sun-dried bricks, werelittle better than mud-huts, but there were more of them than Considinehad hitherto seen on such farms, and the chief dwelling, in particular,displayed some touches of taste which betokened superior refinement inthe inhabitants. The group lay in a hollow on the margin of aninsignificant stream, whose course through the plain was marked by athick belt of beautiful mimosa-bushes. Close to the houses, thesemimosas, large enough to merit the title of trees, formed a greensetting in which the farm appeared to nestle as if desirous of escapingthe sunshine. A few cactus shrubs and aloes were scattered about inrear of the principal dwelling, in the midst of which stood severalmud-huts resembling gigantic bee-hives. In these dwelt some of theHottentot and other servants of the farm, while, a little to the rightof them, on a high mound, were situated the kraals or enclosures forcattle and sheep. About fifty yards farther off, a clump of tall treesindicated the position of a garden, whose fruit-trees were laden withthe blossoms or beginnings of a rich crop of peaches, lemons, oranges,apricots, figs, pears, plums, apples, pomegranates, and many otherfruits and vegetables. This bright and fruitful gem, in the midst ofthe brown and apparently barren karroo, was chiefly due to the existenceof a large enclosure or dam which the thrifty farmer had constructedabout half a mile from the homestead, and the clear waters of whichshimmered in the centre of the picture, even when prolonged drought hadquite dried up the bed of its parent stream. The peaceful beauty of thescene was completed by its grand background of blue mountains.

  A tall, powerful, middle-aged man, in a coarse cloth jacket, leatherntrousers or "crackers," and a broad-brimmed home-made hat, issued fromthe chief dwelling-house as the horsemen galloped up and drew rein. Thesons of the family and a number of barking dogs also greeted them. Hansand Considine sprang to the ground, while two or three of the elevenbrothers, of various ages--also in leathern crackers, but without coatsor hats--came forward, kicked the dogs, and led the horses away.

  "Let me introduce a stranger, father, whom I have found--lost in thekarroo," said Hans.

  "Welcome to Eden! Come in, come in," said Mynheer Conrad Maraisheartily, as he shook his visitor by the hand.

  Considine suitably acknowledged the hospitable greeting and followed hishost into the principal room of his residence.

  There was no hall or passage to the house. The visitor walked straightoff the veldt, or plain, into the drawing-room--if we may so style it.The house door was also the drawing-room door, and it was dividedtransversely into two halves, whereby an open window could at any momentbe formed by shutting the lower half of the door. There was no ceilingto the room. You could see the ridge-pole and rafters by looking upbetween the beams, on one of which latter a swallow--taking advantage ofthe ever open door and the general hospitality of the family--had builtits nest. The six-foot sons almost touched the said nest with theirheads; as to the smaller youths it was beyond the reach of most of them,but had it been otherwise no one would have disturbed the lively littleintruder.

  The floor of the apartment was made of hard earth, without carpet. Thewhitewashed walls were graced with various garments, as well asimplements and trophies of the chase.

  From the beams hung joints of meat, masses of dried flesh, and variouskinds of game, large whips--termed sjamboks (pronounced _shamboks_)--made of rhinoceros or hippopotamus hide, leopard and lion skins, ostricheggs and feathers, dried fruit, strings of onions, and othermiscellaneous objects; on the floor stood a large deal table, and chairsof the same description--all home-made,--two waggon chests, a giantchurn, a large iron pot, several wooden pitchers hooped with brass, anda side-table on which were a large brass-clasped Dutch Bible, a set ofDutch tea-cups, an urn, and a brass tea-kettle heated like achafing-dish. On the walls and in corners were several flint-lock guns,and one or two of the short light javelins used by the Kafirs forthrowing in battle, named assagais.

  Three small doors led into three inner rooms, in which the entire familyslept. There were no other apartments, the kitchen being an outhouse.On the centre table was spread a substantial breakfast, from which thevarious members of the family had risen on the arrival of the horsemen.

  Considine was introduced to Mynheer Marais' vrouw, a good-looking, fat,and motherly woman verging on forty,--and his daughter Bertha, a prettylittle girl of eight or nine.

  "What is Mynheer's name?" was the matron's first question.

  Mynheer replied that it was Charles Considine.

  "Was Mynheer English?"

  "Yes," Mynheer was proud to acknowledge the fact.

  Mrs Marais followed up these questions with a host of others--such as,the age and profession of Mynheer, the number of his relatives, and theobject of his visit to South Africa. Mynheer Marais himself, aftergetting a brief outline of his son's meeting with the Englishman, backedthe attack of his pleasant-faced vrouw by putting a number of questionsas to the political state of Europe then existing, and the chances ofthe British Government seriously taking into consideration theunsatisfactory condition of the Cape frontier and its relations with theKafirs.

  To all of these and a multitude of other questions Charlie Considinereplied with great readiness and good-humour, as far as his knowledgeenabled him, for he began quickly to appreciate the fact that theseisolated farmers, who almost never saw a newspaper were thirsting forinformation as to the world in general as well as with regard to himselfin particular.

  During this bombardment of queries the host and hostess were notforgetful to supply their young guest with the viands under which thesubstantial table groaned, while several of the younger members of thefamily, including the pretty Bertha, stood behind the rest and waited onthem. With the exception of the host and hostess, none of the householdspoke during the meal, all being fully occupied in listening eagerly andeating heartily.

  When the Dutch fire began to slacken for want of ammunition, Considineretaliated by opening a British battery, and soon lea
rned that Maraisand his wife both claimed, and were not a little proud of, a few dropsof French blood. Their progenitors on the mother's side, they said,were descended from one of the French Huguenot families which settled inthe colony after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.

  "You see," said Mynheer Marais, with a quiet smile of satisfaction, ashe applied a boiled cob of mealies or Indian corn to his powerful teeth,"our family may be said to be about two-thirds Dutch and one-thirdFrench. In fact, we have also a little English blood in our veins, formy great-grandfather's mother was English on the father's side and Dutchon the mother's. Perhaps this accounts to some extent for my tendencyto adopt some English and American ideas in the improvement of my farm,which is not a characteristic of my Cape-Dutch brethren."

  "So I have been told, and to some extent have seen," said Considine,with a sly glance; "in fact they appear to be rather lazy thanotherwise."

  "Not lazy, young sir," returned Marais with some emphasis. "They areeasy-going and easily satisfied, and not solicitous to add to theirmaterial comforts beyond a certain point--in short, contented withlittle, like Frenchmen, which is a praiseworthy condition of mind,commended in Holy Writ, and not disposed to make haste to be rich, likeyou English."

  "Ah, I see," rejoined Considine, who observed a twinkle in the eyes ofsome of Mynheer's stalwart sons.

  "Yes," pursued the farmer, buttering another mealie-cob, and commencingto eat it with infinite gusto, "you see, the Cape Dutchmen, although asfine a set of men as ever lived, are just a _little_ too contented andslow; on the other hand, young sir, you English are much too recklessand fast--"

  "Just so," interrupted Considine, bowing his thanks to the hostess for athird venison-steak which she had put on his plate; "the Dutch too slow,the English too fast, so that three parts Dutch, two parts French, andone part English--like a dash of seasoning--is, it seems, the perfectMarais mixture."

  This remark produced a sudden and unintentional burst of laughter fromthe young Maraises, not so much on account of the excess of humourcontained in it, as from the fact that never before had they heard ajest of any kind fabricated at the expense of their father, of whom theystood much in awe, and for whom they had a profound respect.

  Conrad Marais, however, could take a joke, although not much given tomaking one. He smiled blandly over the edge of his mealie-cob.

  "You're right, sir,--right; the mixture is not a bad one. The Dutchelement gives steadiness, the English vigour, and the French spirit.--Bythe way, Arend," he continued, turning to one of his stoutolive-branches, "talking of spirit reminds me that you will have to goto work at that leak in the dam with more spirit than usual, for wecan't afford to lose water in this dry weather. It is not finished, Ithink?"

  "No, father, but we hope to get it done this afternoon."

  "That's well. How many of you are at it?"

  "David and I, with six Totties. Old Sam is ill, and none of the otherscan be spared to-day."

  "Can't some of your brothers help?" asked the farmer. "Losing water isas bad almost as losing gold."

  "Joseph meant to come, but he started at six this morning to look afterthe cattle. We hear that the Kafirs carried off some of Jan Smit'ssheep yesterday."

  "The black scoundrels!" exclaimed Conrad Marais, with a growl and afrown, "they are never at rest, either in times of peace or of war."

  The frown passed as quickly as it came, and the genial smile habitual tothe farmer resumed its place on his countenance as he ran his fingersthrough the thick masses of his iron-grey hair, and rose from the table.

  "Come, Mr Considine," he said, putting on his hat, "are you disposedfor a ride? I take a look round the farm every morning to see thatthings are going straight. Will you join me?"

  Of course Considine gladly assented, and Hans said he would accompanythem, while the other sons--except of course the younger ones, and thebaby who was Bertha's special charge--went out to their variousavocations.

  A few minutes later the three horsemen were cantering over the plain.

  During the ride, Considine was again questioned closely as to his futureintentions and prospects, but without anything very satisfactory beingevolved. At last Conrad Marais pulled up, after a long pause in theconversation, and while they advanced at a walk, said--"Well, I've been_thinking_, and here is the outcome. You want work, Mr Considine, andI want a workman. You've had a good education, which I count apriceless advantage. Some of my sons have had a little, but since Icame here the young ones have had none at all worth mentioning. Whatsay you to become a schoolmaster? You stop with me and give theyoungsters as much as you think fit of whatever you know, and I'll giveyou house-room and food, with a small salary and a hearty welcome. Youneed not bind yourself. If you don't like it, you can leave it. If youdo like it, you are welcome to stay as long as you please, and you'llthus have an opportunity of looking about and deciding on your futureplans. What say you?"

  Considine received the opening sentences of this proposal with a smile,but as the farmer went on he became grave, and at length seriouslyentertained the idea. After having slept a night over it he finallyresolved to accept the offer, and next day was fairly installed asdominie and a member of the farmer's family. School-books were ferretedout from the bottom of family chests; a Hottentot's (or Tottie's)mud-hut was converted into a schoolroom; six of the farmer's sons--beginning almost at the foot of the scale--formed a class. Reading,writing, and arithmetic were unfolded to youthful and not unwillingminds, even Latin was broached by the eldest of the six, and, during aseparate hour in the evening, French was taught to Bertha. Everything,in short, was put in train, and, as Considine expressed it, "the MaraisAcademy was going full swing," when an event occurred which instantlysent French and Latin to the right-about and scattered the three R's tothe four winds.

  This was nothing less than an order from the Colonial Government to theField Cornets on the frontier to engage waggons and oxen from thefarmers, to be sent to Algoa Bay for the purpose of conveying theBritish immigrants--expected in a few weeks--from the coast to thevarious locations destined for their reception.

  Among others, Conrad Marais was to send two waggons and spans of oxen,each span consisting of eighteen animals. Hans Marais was to go incharge, and Hans resolved to have Considine as a companion, for thejourney down to the coast was long--about 160 miles,--and the two youthshad formed so strong an attachment during their short acquaintance thatConsidine was as anxious to go as his friend could desire.

  Conrad Marais, having no objection to this arrangement, the oxen were"inspanned," and the day following that on which the order was receivedthey set off towards the shores of the Indian Ocean.

  Having to pass the residence of Jan Smit on the way, Considine seizedthe opportunity to visit his former cross-grained companion and pay hisdebt.

  Jan Smit was in a more savage humour than usual when the young manwalked up to his dwelling. The farmer's back was towards him as heapproached. He stood nervously switching a sjambok in his right hand,while he stormed in Dutch at three of his unfortunate people, or ratherslaves. One was a sturdy Hottentot named Ruyter, one a Malay namedAbdul Jemalee, both of whom had travelled with Considine on the upjourney. The third was the Bushman whom he had encountered when lost onthe karroo, and who, owing to his inveterate stupidity, had been namedBooby.

  They had all been implicated in the recent loss of cattle suffered bytheir savage master, who had already flogged the Bushman with thesjambok and was furiously interrogating the Hottentot. At last he gavehim a tremendous cut across the shoulders, which immediately raised adark red bar thereon.

  Ruyter's black eyes flashed. He did not wince, but drew himself quicklyup like a man about to retaliate. Jan Smit observing and resenting theaction, at once knocked him down.

  Ruyter slowly rose and staggered away just as Considine came up. Theyouth could not resist the inclination to exclaim "Shame!"

  "Who dares--" cried Jan Smit, turning fiercely round. He paused in mut
esurprise at sight of his former companion.

  "_I_ dare!" said Considine sternly; "many a time the word has been on mylips before, and now that it has passed them it may go. I came nothere, however, to bully, or be bullied, but to pay my debt to you."

  He drew out a leathern purse as he spoke, and the Dutchman, whose spiritwas quelled both by the manner and the matter of his visitor's remark,led the way to his domicile.

  The house resembled that of Conrad Marais in form, but in nothing else.Everything in and around it was dirty and more or less dilapidated.There was no dam, no garden,--nothing, in short, but the miserabledwelling and a few surrounding huts, with the cattle kraal.

  Having paid his debt, Considine did not vouchsafe another word, butreturned at once to the waggons. On the way he overtook Ruyter.

  "My poor fellow," he said, "have you no means of redress? Can you notcomplain to some one--some magistrate?"

  "Complain!" exclaimed the Hottentot fiercely, "what de use of complain?No one care. Nobody listen--boh! no use complain."

  The man had learnt a smattering of English. He was a short but verypowerful fellow, and with a more intellectual head and countenance thanis common to his race.

  "Where are you going just now, Ruyter?" asked Considine, feeling that itwas best to change the subject just then.

  "Go for inspan de waggin. Ordered down to Algoa Bay for bring up dewhite men."

  "Then we shall probably meet on the road," said Considine, "for I amgoing to the same place." As he spoke, they came to a point where theroad forked. The Hottentot, with a sulky "Good-day," took that pathwhich led towards Jan Smit's cattle kraal, while Considine followed theother and rejoined his waggons. The two friends mounted their horses,the drivers set the ox-teams in motion, and the huge waggons lumberedslowly over the karroo towards the rising sun.