When the Lion Feeds

by Wilbur Smith

  What’s wrong with me, he asked plaintively. Have I got a contagious clap? Duff chuckled. They’ve got gold sickness he said.You’re a potential rival. You could die of thirst and not one of them would spit on you, lest it gave you strength to crawl out and peg something they hadn’t noticed. He sobered We’re wasting time. There’s an hour left before dark, let’s go and have a look for ourselves They trotted out towards the area of mauled earth. Men were working pick and shovel in the trenches, some of them lean and tough-looking with a dozen natives working beside them; others fat from an office stool, sweating and gritting teeth against the pain of blistered palms, their faces and arms burnt angry red by the sun. All of them greeted Sean and Duff with the same suspicious hostility.

  They rode slowly towards the north and every hundred yards with sickening regularity they came across a claim peg with a cairn of stones around its foot and the scrap of canvas nailed to it. Printed in crude capitals on the canvas was the owner’s name and his licence number.

  Many of the claims were as yet untouched and on these Duff dismounted and searched in the grass, picking up pieces of rock and peering at them before discarding them again. Then once more they moved on with sinking spirits and increasing exhaustion. They camped after dark on the open windy ridge and while the coffee brewed they talked.

  We’re too late. Sean scowled into the fire.

  We’ve got money, laddie, just remember that. Most of these gentlemen are broke, they are living on hope, not beef and potatoes. Look at their faces and you’ll see despair starting to show. It takes capital to work reef gold: you need machinery and money for wages, you have to pipe in water and pile rock, you need wagons and time. Money’s no good without a claim to work, brooded Sean.

  Stay with me, laddie. Have you noticed how many of these claims haven’t been touched yet? They belong to speculators and my guess is that they are for sale. In the next few weeks you’ll see the men sorted out from the boys! feel like packing up. This isn’t what I expected. You’re tired. Sleep well tonight and tomorrow we’ll see how far this reef runs, then we’ll start some scheming.

  Duff lit one of his cheroots, and sucked on it: in the firelight his face was as punt as a Red Indian’s. They sat on in silence for a while, then Sean spoke.

  What’s that noise? It was a dull torn-torn beat in the darkness.

  You’ll get used to that if you stay around here much longer, said Duff.

  It’s the stamps on that mill we saw from the high ground. It’s a mile or so farther up the valley; we’ll pass it in the morning.

  They were on the move again before the sun was up and they came to the mill in the morning’s uncertain light. The mill crouched black and ugly on the smooth curve of the ridge, defiant as a quixotic monster. Its jaws thumped sullenly as it chewed the rock; it snorted steam and screeched metallically.

  I didn’t realize it was so big, said Sean. It’s big all right, agreed Duff, and they cost money, they don’t give them away. Not many men around here can afford a set-up like that. There were men moving around the mill, tending its needs, feeding it rock and fussing about the copper tables over which its gold-laden faeces poured. One of the men came forward to offer them the usual hospitality. This is private ground. We don’t want sightseers around here keep on going. He was a dapper little man with a round brown face and a derby hat pulled down to his ears. His mustache bristled like the whiskers of a fox terrier.

  Listen, Francois, you miserable bloody earthworm, if you talk to me like that I’ll push your face around the back of your head, Duff told him, and the dapper one blinked uncertainly and came closer, peering up at them.

  Who are you? Do I know you? Duff pushed his hat back so the man could see his face. Duff! crowed the little man delightedly. It’s old Duff. He bounced forward to take Duff’s hand as he dismounted. Sean watched the orgy of reunion with amusement. It lasted until Duff managed to bring it under control and lead the little Afrikander across to make the introduction.

  Sean, this is Francois du Toit. He’s an old friend of mine from the Kimberley diamond fields. Francois greeted Sean and then relapsed once more into the excited chorus of Gott, it’s good to see you old Duff.

  He pounded Duff’s back despite the nimble footwork that Duff was using to spoil his aim. Another few minutes of this passed before Francois composed himself to make his first coherent statement.

  Listen, old Duff, I’m just in the middle of cleaning the amalgam tables.

  you and your friend go down to my tent.

  I’ll be with you in half an hour, tell my servant to make breakfast. I won’t be long, man. Gott, man, it’s you some good to see you.

  An old lover of yours? asked Sean when they were alone.

  Duff laughed. We were on the diamond fields together.

  I did him a favour once, Pulled him Out Of a caving drive when the rock fall had broken his legs- He’s a good little guy and meeting him here is the proverbial answer to a prayer. What he can’t tell us about this goldfield no one else can. Francois came bustling into the tent well under the promised half hour and during breakfast Sean was an outsider in a conversation where every exchange began, you remember -? or what happened to old so and so? Then, when the plates were empty and the coffee mugs filled, Duff asked, so, what are you doing here, Franz? Is this your own outfit? No, I’m still with the Company. Not that whoreson Hradsky? Duff registered mock alarm. That, that that’s ta, to, terrible, he imitated a stutter.

  Cut it out, Duff. Francois looked nervous. Don’t do that, you want me to lose my job? Duff turned to Sean with an explanation-’Norman Hradsky and God are equals, but in this part of the world God takes his orders from Hradsky.

  Cut it out, Duff. Francois was deeply shocked but Duff went on imperturbably.The organization through which Hradsky exercises his divine powers is referred to with reverently hated breath as “The Company”. In actual fact its full and resounding title is The South African Mining and Lands Company.

  Do you get the picture? Sean nodded smiling and Duff added as an afterthought, Hradsky is a bastard and he stutters.It was too much for Francois. He leaned across and caught Duff’s arm. Please, man. My servant understands English, cut it out, Duff. So the Company has started on these fields, hey? Well, well, it must be pretty big, mused Duff and Francois followed with relief onto safer ground. It is! You just wait and see, it’s going to make the diamond fields look like a church bazaar! Tell me about it, said Duff.They call it the Rotten Reef or the Banket or the Heidelberg Reef, but in fact there are three reefs, not one. They run side by side like layers in a sandwich cake. All three have pay gold? Duff shot the question and Francois shook his head. There was a light in his eyes; he was happy talking gold and No, you can forget about the outer reef, just traces there. Then there’s the Main Reef.

  That’s a bit better, it’s as much as six feet thick in places and giving good values, but it’s patchy. Francois leaned eagerly across the table; in his excitement his thick Afrikaans accent was very noticeable.The bottom reef is the winner, we call it the Leader Reef. It’s only a few inches thick and some places it fades out altogether, but it’s rich.

  There’s gold in it like plums in a pudding. It’s rich, Duff, I’m telling you that you won’t believe it until you see it. ‘I’ll believe you, said Duff. Now tell me where I can get some of this Leader Reef for myself. Francois sobered instantly, a shutter dropped over his eyes and hid the light that had shone there a moment before. It’s gone. It’s all gone, he said defensively. It’s all been pegged, you’ve come too late. Well, that’s that, said Duff and a big silence settled on the gathering. Francois fidgeted on his stool, chewing at the ends of his mustache and scowling into his mug.

  Duff and Sean waited quietly; it was obvious that Francois was wrestling with himself, two loyalties tearing him down the middle. Once he opened his mouth and then closed it again; he blew on his coffee to cool it and the heat came off it in steam.Have you got any money? He fired the question with startling vio
lence.

  Yes, said Duff. Mr Hradsky has gone down to Capetown to raise money. He has a list of a hundred and forty claims that he will buy when he gets back. Francois paused guiltily. I’m only telling you this because of what I owe you. Yes, I know! Duff spoke softly. Francois took an audible breath and went on. On the top of Mr Hradsky’s list is a block of claims that belongs to a woman. She is willing to sell and they are the most likely-looking propositions on the whole field. Yes? Duff encouraged him. This woman has started an eating-house about two miles from here on the banks of the Natal Spruit. Her name is Mrs Rautenbach, she serves good food. You could go and have a meal there. Thanks, Francois. I owed it to you, Francois said gruffly, then his mood changed quickly and he chuckled. You’ll like her, Duff, she’s a lot of woman.

  Sean and Duff went to eat lunch at Mrs Rautenbach’s.

  It was an unpainted corrugated-iron building on a wooden frame and the sign above the veranda said in letters of red and gold Candy’s Hotel.

  High-class cuisine. Free toilet facilities. No drunks or horses admitted. Proprietor Mrs Candella Rautenbach.They washed off the dust in the enamel basin which stood on the veranda, dried themselves on the free towel and combed in the free mirror on the wall.

  How do I look! asked Duff.

  Ravishing, said Sean, but you don’t smell so good.

  When did you last bath? They went into the dining-room and found it almost full, but there was an empty table against the far wall.

  The room was hot and thick with pipe smoke and the smell of cabbage.

  Dusty, bearded men laughed and shouted or ate silently and hungrily.

  They crossed the room to the table and a coloured waitress came to them.

  Yes? she asked. Her dress was damp at the armpits. May we have the menu? The girl looked at Duff with faint amusement. Today we got steak and mashed potatoes with pudding afterwards. We’ll have it, Duff agreed. You sure as hell won’t get nothing else, the girl assured him and trotted back to the kitchen. The service is good, Duff enthused. We can only hope that the food and the proprietress are of the same high standard The meat was tough but well flavoured and the coffee was strong and sweet. They ate with appreciation until Sean who was facing the kitchen stopped his fork on its way to his mouth. A hush was on the room.

  Here she is, he said.

  Candy Rautenbach was a tall and bright, shiny blonde and her skin was Nordic flawlessness as yet unspoiled by the sun. She filled the front of her blouse and the back of her skirt with a pleasant abundance. She was well aware of and yet not disconcerted by the fact that every eye in the room was on one of those areas. She carried a ladle which she twitched threateningly at the first hand that reached out to pinch her rump, the hand withdrew and Candy smiled sweetly and moved on among the tables.

  She stopped occasionally to chat with her customers and it was clear that many of these lonely men came here not only to eat. They watched her avidly, grinning with pleasure when she spoke to them. She reached their table and Sean and Duff stood up. Candy blinked with surprise.

  Sit down, please. The small courtesy had touched her. You are new here? We got in yesterday, Duff smiled at her. And the way you cook a steak makes me feel as though I were home again. Where are you from! Candy looked at the two of them with perhaps just a shade more than professional interest. We’ve come up from Natal to have a look around.

  This is Mr Courtney, he is interested in new investments and he thought that these goldfields might provide an outlet for some of his capital.

  Sean just managed to stop his jaw dropping open and then quickly assumed the slightly superior air of a big financier as Duff went on. My name is Charleywood. I am Mr Courtney’s mining adviser. Pleased to meet you. I am Candy Rautenbach. She was impressed. Won’t you join us for a few minutes, Mrs Rautenbach? Duff drew back a chair for her and Candy hesitated. I have to check up in the kitchen, perhaps later. Do you always lie so smoothly? Sean spoke with admiration when Candy had gone.

  I spoke no untruths, Duff defended himself. No, but the way you tell the truth! How the hell am I going to play up to the role you have created for me? You’ll learn to live with it, don’t worry. just look wise and keep your mouth shut, Duff advised. “What do you think of her anyway? Toothsome, said Sean.

  Decidedly palatable, agreed Duff.

  When Candy came back Duff kept the conversation light and general for a while, but when Candy started asking some sharp questions it was immediately apparent that her knowledge of geology and mining was well above average and Duff remarked on it. Yes, my husband was in the game.

  I picked it up from him. She reached into one of the pockets of her blue and white checked skirt and brought out a small handful of rock samples. She put them down in front of Duff. Can you name those? she asked. It was the direct test, she was asking him to prove himself Kimberlite. Serpentine. Feldspar.

  Duff reeled them off and Candy relaxed visibly. As it happens I have a number of claims pegged along the Heidelberg Reef. Perhaps Mr Courtney would care to have a look at them. Actually, I am negotiating at the moment with The South African Mining and Lands Company who are very interested. Sean made his solitary but valuable contribution to the conversation. Ah yes, he nodded sagely. Good old Norman. Candy was shaken, not many men used Hradsky’s Christian name. Will tomorrow morning be convenient? she asked.

  That afternoon they bought a tent from a disillusioned hopeful who had thrown up his job on the Natal Railways to make the pilgrimage to Witwatersrand and now needed money to get home. They pitched it near the Hotel and went down to the Natal Spruit to take a long overdue bath.

  That night they held a mild celebration on the half bottle of brandy that Duff produced from his saddlebag and the next morning Candy took them out to the claims.

  she had twenty of them pegged right along the Banket.

  She led them to a spot where the reef out iT leave you two to look around. If you’re interested we can talk about it when you come to the Hotel. I’ve got to get back now, there’ll be hungry mouths to feed.

  Duff escorted Candy to her horse, giving her his arm across the rough ground and helping her into the saddle in a manner he must have learned from his father. He watched her ride away then came back to Sean. He was elated. Tread lightly, Mr Courtney, walk with reverence for beneath your feet lies our fortune. They went over the ground, Sean like a friendly bloodhound and Duff cruising with the restless circling of a tiger shark. They inspected the claim notices paced out the boundaries and filled their pockets with chips of rock, then they rode back to their tent and Duff brought out his pestle, mortar and pan. They took them down to the bank of the Natal Spruit and all afternoon crushed the rock and worked the pan. When they had tested the last sample Duff gave his judgement.

  Well, theres gold, and I’d say it’s payable gold. It’s not nearly as rich as the one we panned at Dundee but that must have been a selected piece of the Leader Reef! He paused and looked seriously at Sean. I think it’s worth a try. If the Leader Reef is there we’ll find it and in the meantime we won’t lose money by working the main reef. Sean picked up a pebble and tossed it into the stream in front of him. He was learning for the first time the alternate thrill and depression of gold sickness when one minute you rode the lightning and the next you dropped abruptly into the depths. The yellow tails in the pan had looked pathetically thin and undernourished to him. Supposing you’re right and supposing we talk Candy into selling her claims, how do we go about it? That fourstamp mill looked a devilishly complicated and expensive bit of machinery to me, not the kind of thing you can buy over the counter in every dealer’s store Duff punched his shoulder and smiled lopsidedly at him. You’ve got your Uncle Duff looking after you.

  Candy will sell her claims, she trembles when I touch her, a day or two more and she’ll be eating out of my hand. As for the mill... When I came out to this country I fell in with a rich Cape farmer whose lifelong ambition had been to have his own gold mine. He selected a ridge which in his
undisputed wisdom as a grower of grapes he considered to be an ideal place for his mine. He hired me to run it for him, purchased a mill of the latest and most expensive vintage and prepared himself to flood the market with gold. After six months when we had processed vast quantities of assorted quartz, schist and earth and recovered sufficient gold to fit into a mouse’s ear without touching the sides, my patron’s enthusiasm was somewhat dampened and he dispensed with my invaluable service s and closed the circus down. I left for the diamond fields and as far as I know the machinery is still lying there waiting for the first buyer with a couple of hundred pounds to come and pick it up. Duff stood up and they walked back towards the tent.

  However, first things first.

  Do you agree that I should continue the negotiations with Mrs Rautenbach? I suppose so. Sean was feeling more cheerful again. But are you sure your interest in Mrs Rautenbach is strictly line of duty? Duff was shocked. Don’t think for a minute that my intentions are anything but to further the interests of our partnership. You can’t believe that my animal appetite plays any part in what I intend doing? No, of course not, Sean assured him. I hope you can force yourself to go through with it. Duff laughed. While we are on the subject I think this is as good a time as any for you to develop a stomach ailment and retire to your lonely bed. From now on until we’ve got the agreement signed your boyish charm will be of no great value in the proceedings.

  I’ll tell Candy that you’ve given me authority to act on your behalf.

  Duff combed his curls, put on the clothes that Mbejane had washed for him and disappeared in the direction of Candy’s Hotel. Time passed slowly for Sean; he sat and chatted with Mbejane, drank a little coffee and when the sun went down retired to his tent. He read one of Duff’s books by the light of the hurricane lamp but could not concentrate on it; his mind kept straying to thoughts of blonde hair. When someone scratched on the canvas door he leapt up with a confused hope that Candy had decided to come and deal with him direct. It was the coloured girl from the Hotel, her crinkly black hair at odds with what he had been thinking. Madame says she’s sorry to hear about your sickness and to tell you to have two spoons of this, she told him and offered Sean the bottle of castor oil. Tell your mistress, thank you very much. Sean accepted the medicine and started to close the tent flapMadame told me to stay and make sure that you took two full spoons, I have to take the bottle back and show her how much you’ve had. Sean’s stomach cringed.