CHAPTER XXI
JESS GETS A PASS
About half-past ten on the morning following her interview withHans Coetzee, Jess was at "The Palatial" as usual, and John was justfinishing packing the cart with such few goods as they possessed. Therewas little chance of his labour proving of material use, for he did notin the slightest degree expect that they would get the pass; but, as hesaid cheerfully, it was as good an amusement as any other.
"I say, Jess," he called out presently, "come here."
"What for?" asked Jess, who was seated on the doorstep mendingsomething, and looking at her favourite view.
"Because I want to speak to you."
She rose and went, feeling rather angry with herself for going.
"Well," she said tartly, "here I am. What is it?"
"I have finished packing the cart, that's all."
"And you mean to tell me that you have brought me round here to saythat?"
"Yes, of course I have; exercise is good for the young." Then helaughed, and she laughed too.
It was all nothing--nothing at all--but somehow it was very delightful.Certainly mutual affection, even when unexpressed, has a way of makingthings go happily, and can find entertainment anywhere.
Just then, who should arrive but Mrs. Neville, in a great state ofexcitement, and, as usual, fanning herself with her hat.
"What do you think, Captain Niel? The prisoners have come in, and Iheard one of the Boers in charge say that he had a pass signed by theBoer general for some English people, and that he was coming over to seeabout them presently. Who can it be?"
"It is for us," said Jess quickly. "We are going home. I saw HansCoetzee yesterday, and begged him to try and get us a pass, and Isuppose he has."
"My word! going to get out: well, you are lucky! Let me sit down andwrite a letter to my great-uncle at the Cape. You must post it when youcan. He is ninety-four, and rather soft, but I dare say he will liketo hear from me," and she hurried into the house to give her agedrelative--who, by the way, laboured under the impression that she wasstill a little girl of four years of age--as minute an account of thesiege of Pretoria as time would allow.
"Well, John, you had better tell Mouti to put the horses in. We shallhave to start presently," said Jess.
"Ay," he said, pulling his beard thoughtfully, "I suppose that weshall;" adding, by way of an afterthought, "Are you glad to go?"
"No," she said, with a sudden flash of passion and a stamp of the foot.Then she turned and entered the house again.
"Mouti," said John to the Zulu, who was lounging about in a waycharacteristic of that intelligent but unindustrious race, "inspan thehorses. We are going back to Mooifontein."
"_Koos!_" said the Zulu unconcernedly, and started on the errand asthough it were the most everyday occurrence to drive off home out of aclosely beleaguered town. That is another beauty of the Zulu race: youcannot astonish them. No doubt they consider that extraordinary mixtureof wisdom and insanity, the white man, to be _capable du tout_, as theagnostic French critic said in despair of the prophet Zerubbabel.
John stood and watched the inspanning absently. In truth, he, too, wasconscious of a sensation of regret. He felt ashamed of himself for it,but there it was; he was sorry to leave the place. For the last week orso he had been living in a dream, and everything outside that dream wasblurred, indistinct as a landscape in a fog. He knew the objectswere there, but he could not quite appreciate their relative size andposition. The only real thing was his dream; all else was as vague asthose far-off people and events that we lose in infancy and find againin old age.
Now there would be an end of dreaming; the fog would lift, and he mustface the facts. Jess, with whom he had dreamed, would go away to Europeand he would marry Bessie, and all this Pretoria business would glideaway into the past like a watch in the night. Well, it must be so; itwas right and proper that it should be so, and he for one would notflinch from his duty; but he must have been more than human had he notfelt the pang of awakening. It was all so very unfortunate.
By this time Mouti had got up the horses, and asked if he was to inspan.
"No; wait a bit," said John. "Very likely it is all nonsense," he addedto himself.
Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when he caught sight of twoarmed Boers of a peculiarly unpleasant type and rough appearance, ridingacross the veldt towards "The Palatial" gate. With them was an escortof four carbineers. At the gate they all stopped, and one of the Boersdismounted and walked to where John was standing by the stable-door.
"Captain Niel?" he said interrogatively, in English.
"That is my name."
"Then here is a letter for you;" and he handed him a folded paper.
John opened it--it had no envelope--and read as follows:
"Sir,--The bearer of this has with him a pass which it is understoodthat you desire, giving you and Miss Jess Croft a safe-conduct toMooifontein, in the Wakkerstroom district of the Republic. The onlycondition attached to the pass, which is signed by one of the honourableTriumvirate, is that you must carry no despatches out of Pretoria. Uponyour giving your word of honour to the bearer that you will not do thishe will hand you the pass."
This letter, which was fairly written and in good English, had nosignature.
"Who wrote this?" asked John of the Boer.
"That is no affair of yours," was the curt reply. "Will you pass yourword about the despatches?"
"Yes."
"Good. Here is the pass;" and he handed over that document to John.It was in the same handwriting as the letter, but signed by the Boergeneral.
John examined it, and then called to Jess to come to translate it, who,having heard the voice of the Boer, was on her way round the corner ofthe house.
"It means, 'Pass the bearers unharmed,'" she said, "and the signature isgenuine. I have seen Paul Kruger's signature before."
"When must we start?" asked John of the Boer.
"At once, or not at all."
"I must drive round by the headquarter camp to explain my departure.They will think that I have run away."
To this the Boer demurred, but finally, after going to the gate toconsult his companion, he consented and the two rode back to theheadquarter camp, saying that they would wait for the cart there,whereupon the horses were inspanned.
In five minutes everything was ready, and the cart was standing on theroadway in front of the little gate. After he had looked to all thestraps and buckles, and seen that the baggage was properly packed, Johnwent to call Jess. He found her by the doorstep, looking out at herfavourite view. Her hand was placed sideways against her forehead, asthough to shade her eyes from the sun. But where she was standing therewas no sun, and John could not help guessing why she was shading hereyes. She was crying at leaving the place in that quiet and harrowingway which some women indulge in; that is to say, a few big tears wererolling down her face. John felt a lump rise in his own throat at thesight, and not unnaturally relieved his feelings by rough language.
"What the deuce are you after?" he asked. "Are you going to keep thehorses standing all day?"
Jess did not resent this. The probability is that she guessed itsreason. Besides, it is a melancholy fact that women rather like beingsworn at than otherwise, provided that the swearer is the man whom theyare attached to. But he must only swear on state occasions. At thismoment, too, Mrs. Neville plunged out of the house, licking an envelopeas she ran.
"There," she said, "I hope you weren't waiting for me. I haven't toldthe old gentleman half the news; in fact, I've only taken him down tothe time when the communications were cut, and I dare say he has seenall that in the papers. But he won't understand anything about it, andif he does he will guess the rest; besides, for all I know, he may bedead and buried by now. I shall have to owe you for the stamp. I thinkit's threepence. I'll pay you when we meet again--that is, if we everdo meet again. I'm beginning to think that this siege will go on for alleternity. There, good-bye, my dear! God bless you! When you g
et out ofit, mind you write to the _Times_, in London, you know. There, don'tcry. I am sure I should not cry if I were going to get out of thisplace;" for at this point Jess took the opportunity of Mrs. Neville'sfervent embrace to burst out into a sob or two.
In another minute they were in the cart, and Mouti was scrambling upbehind.
"Don't cry, old girl," said John, laying his hand upon her shoulder."What can't be cured must be endured."
"Yes, John," she answered, and dried her tears.
At the headquarter camp John went in and explained the circumstances ofhis departure. At first the officer who was temporarily in command--theCommandant having been wounded at the same time that John washit--rather demurred to his going, especially when he learned that hehad passed his word not to carry despatches. Presently, however, hethought better of it, and said he supposed that it was all right, ashe could not see that their departure could do the garrison any harm:"rather the reverse, in fact, because you can tell people how we aregetting on in this God-forsaken hole. I only wish that somebody wouldgive me a pass, that's all." So John shook hands with him and left, tofind an eager crowd gathered outside.
The news of their good luck had gone abroad, and everybody was runningdown to hear the truth of it. Such an event as a departure out ofPretoria had not happened for a couple of months and more, and theexcitement was proportionate to its novelty.
"I say, Niel, is it true you are going?" halloed a burly farmer.
"How the deuce did you get a pass?" put in another man with a face likea weasel. He was what is known as a _Boer vernuker_ (literally a "Boercheater"), that is, a travelling trader whose business it is to beguilethe simple-minded Dutchman by selling him worthless goods at five timestheir value. "I have loads of friends among the Boers. There is hardlya Boer in the Transvaal who does not know me"--("To his cost," put ina bystander with a grunt)--"and yet I have tried all I know"--("And youknow a good deal," said the same rude man)--"and _I_ can't get a pass."
"You don't suppose those poor Boers are going to let you out once theyhave got you in?" went on the tormentor. "Why, man, it's against humannature. You've got all their wool: now do you think they want you tohave their skin too?"
Whereupon the weasel-faced individual uttered a howl of wrath, andpretended to make a rush at the author of these random gibes, waitinghalfway for somebody to stop him and prevent a breach of the peace.
"Oh, Miss Croft!" cried out a woman in the crowd, who, like Jess, hadbeen trapped in Pretoria while on a flying visit, "if you can, do send aline to my husband at Maritzburg, to tell him that I am well, except forthe rheumatism from sleeping on the wet ground; and tell him to kiss thetwins for me."
"I say, Niel, tell those Boers that we will give them a d--d good hidingyet, when Colley relieves us," sang out a jolly young Englishman inthe uniform of the Pretoria Carbineers. He little knew that poorColley--kind-hearted English gentleman that he was--lay sleepingpeacefully under six feet of ground with a Boer bullet in his brain.
"Now, Captain Niel, if you are ready, we must trek," said one of theBoers in Dutch, suiting the action to the word by giving the nearwheeler a sharp cut with his riding _sjambock_ that made him jump nearlyout of the traces.
Away started the horses with a plunge, scattering the crowd to the rightand left, and, amid a volley of farewells, they were off upon theirhomeward journey.
For more than an hour nothing particular happened. John drove at a fairpace, and the two Boers cantered along behind. At the end of this time,however, just as they were approaching the Red House, where Frank Mullerhad obtained the pass from the General on the previous day, one of theBoers rode up and told them, roughly enough, that they were to outspanat the house, where they would find some food. As it was past oneo'clock, they were by no means sorry to hear this, and John drew up thecart about fifty yards from the place, where they outspanned the horses,and, having watched them roll and drink, they went up to the house.
The two Boers, who had also off-saddled, were already sitting on theverandah, and when Jess looked inquiringly towards them one of thempointed with his pipe towards the little room. Taking the hint, theyentered, and found a Hottentot woman just setting some food upon thetable.
"Here is dinner; let us eat it," said John; "goodness knows when we willget any more;" and accordingly he sat down.
As he did so the two Boers came in, and one of them made some sneeringremark that caused the other to look at them and laugh insultingly.
John flushed, but took no notice. Indeed he thought it safest not, for,to tell the truth, he did not much like the appearance of these twoworthies. One of them was a big, smooth, pasty-faced man, with apeculiarly villainous expression of countenance and a prominent tooththat projected in ghastly isolation over his lower lip. The other wasa small man, with a sardonic smile, a profusion of black beard andwhiskers on his face, and long hair hanging on to his shoulders. Indeed,when he smiled more vigorously than usual, his eyebrows came down andhis whiskers advanced, and his moustache went up till there was scarcelyany face left, and he looked more like a great bearded monkey thana human being. This man was a Boer of the wildest type from the farborders of Zoutpansberg, and did not understand a word of English.Jess nicknamed him the Vilderbeeste, from his likeness to thatferocious-looking and hairy animal. His companion, on the other hand,understood English perfectly, for he had passed many years of his lifein Natal, having left that colony on account of some little indiscretionabout thrashing Kafirs which had brought him into collision with thepenal laws. Jess named him the Unicorn, on account of his one gleamingtusk.
The Unicorn was an unusually pious person, and on arriving at the table,to John's astonishment, gently but firmly he grasped the knife withwhich he was about to cut the meat.
"What's the matter?" said John.
The Boer shook his head sadly. "No wonder, you English are an accursedrace, and have been given over into our hands as the great king Agagwas given into the hands of the Israelites, so that we have hewed you topieces. You sit down to meat and give no thanks to the dear Lord," andhe threw back his head and sang out a portentously long Dutch gracethrough his nose. Not content with this, he set to work to translateit to English, which took a good time; nor was the rendering a veryfinished one in the result.
The Vilderbeeste grinned sardonically and put in a pious "Amen," andthen at last they were allowed to proceed with their dinner, which,on the whole, was not a pleasant meal. But they could not expect muchpleasure under the circumstances, so they ate their food and made thebest of a bad business. After all, it might have been worse: they mighthave had no dinner to eat.
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