Part 67 (1/2)
”And where is Ethel now, and how is she getting on?” asked Claverton, presently.
”She's down at Cape Town still.”
”Does she ever come up to the frontier?”
”Oh, yes. Sometimes. She would have been coming just about now, only this new war broke out.”
”Who's that? Ethel?” asked Hicks, returning. He had left the room for a moment to give some directions to one of his natives outside. ”Oh, yes. She was engaged to some fellow down there and then choked him off all at once, no one quite knew why. Laura vows that--” Here the speaker became aware of a battery of warning glances being levelled at him from his wife's dark eyes, and suddenly collapsed in a violent fit of coughing, on recovery from which he threw open the door, and looking frantically up at the heavens declared, with a vehemence wholly unsuited to the occasion, that the rain would inevitably clear away before twelve o'clock. Claverton, on whom not one fraction of this by-play was lost, although he pretended not to see it, could hardly restrain his mirth.
Good old Hicks, he thought, was always a whale at blundering, and he had done for himself again. Even in trying to extricate it, he had put his unlucky foot in yet deeper; for, to any one who did not know him, this violent prognostication as to the weather, taken in conjunction with what had gone before, would have had slightly an inhospitable smack; but Claverton enjoyed the situation only too well. By-and-by, when pursuing his journey, he would shout with laughter over the recollection; now, however, not a muscle of his countenance moved as he said, in the most matter-of-fact way:
”You might remember me to Ethel, when you write. We used to have rather fun together in the old times.”
Laura said something in a.s.sent, though she mentally resolved to do nothing of the kind. No good would come of waking up old recollections, she reasoned, by mentioning this man who, even if through no fault of his own, had, at any rate, she told herself, cast a cloud over her bright, wayward, beautiful sister's life, and the sooner he was forgotten the better. For that sister's sake she by no means shared her husband's joy over his reappearance, and she sincerely hoped that those two might not meet again, and wished that he would be quick and marry Lilian Strange, or leave this part of the country, or both. Meanwhile here he was, still on the frontier, and Ethel might be coming up to visit her at any time.
Just then a chubby toddling--an exact infantile reproduction of his father--rushed into the room; and Laura, with a touch of pride that was very becoming, exhibited him to her guest, while the urchin opened his big blue eyes wide, and stood staring, with his finger in his mouth, at Claverton's long boots and s.h.i.+ning spurs.
”Go and say how d'you do to Mr Claverton, Jimmy,” said his mother, in the tone of half command, half entreaty, usual under the circ.u.mstances.
”He's a soldier, you know, going to fight the Kafirs, like Uncle Jim.”
”Uncle Jim” being Jim Brathwaite, who was the urchin's G.o.dfather.
”I'll be soja, when I big,” lisped the prodigy, toddling up to Claverton, and tentatively stroking with one finger the s.h.i.+n of his high boot. ”I got gun--shoot de Kaffa--bang!”
”Halloa,” cried Hicks, re-entering. ”Don't let that kid bother you, Arthur. Kids are a confounded nuisance unless they happen to belong to a fellow, and very often even then.”
But Jimmy was not to be detached from his new acquaintance, to whom he had taken an immense fancy, and just then, fortunately for his peace of mind, a move was made in favour of breakfast.
They talked of the war and its progress. Hicks declared his intention of holding on a bit for the present, and joining Jim Brathwaite--who, with his troop, had already left for the front--later, if things got worse. Laura had been in a terrible fright the last time when he had gone, he said; but now, since she saw that none of them had been hurt, she didn't care--in fact, concluded Hicks, he rather believed she wanted to get rid of him, so he was determined to stay, just to spite her.
Listening to the playful recrimination that followed, Claverton found himself thinking what a good thing it was to see two people happy like this, for there could be no doubt but that happy they were--thoroughly so--in their quiet and hitherto peaceful (for the tide of war had not yet rolled in so far as this) frontier home; though such may appear incredible to those who find their enjoyment of life in the whirl and feverishness of fas.h.i.+onable civilisation. And thinking it, he rejoiced greatly on his old chum's account.
And the said ”old chum” was considerably crestfallen at the announcement that he must take the road again. ”Why, hang it all,” he grumbled; ”you've hardly had time to look at us.”
”My dear fellow--duty--inexorable duty calls. But I shall a.s.suredly knock you up again, soon.”
”Why, here's baby!” exclaimed Laura, as an approaching squall resounded through the pa.s.sage. ”You will just be able to have a peep at her before you go,” and regardless of her lord's impatient protest that ”Claverton didn't want to be bothered with a lot of kids,” she took a limp bundle of clothes from the arms of its bearer and uncovered a wee red and--shall it be confessed?--rather wet physiognomy for her guest's inspection.
”H'm, I'm no judge of infants, Laura,” said Claverton, good-humouredly, ”but I should say this one ought to fetch first prize at the next show.
But now I must be off--good-bye.”
”Must you go? I'm so sorry,” said Laura. ”I should like to get Lilian up here to stay for a bit, only 'some one' would be sure to forbid it as unsafe,” she added, archly.
”Well, good-bye, old fellow,” said Hicks. ”My horses are out in the _veldt_, and will take hours to get in, or I'd go part of the way with you. Mind you look us up again as soon as ever you can.” He was going to add something about hoping ”to see you both here before long”; but with his recent slip fresh in his mind, he refrained, fearing lest in some unaccountable manner he should put his foot in it again.
”Good-bye--success to you. Mind you shoot lots of n.i.g.g.e.rs and come back all jolly,” and with a hearty hand-shake the two men parted.
Claverton rode on, reaching Fort Beaufort, where he tarried a day to recruit his men, or rather to collect them, for they had already been recruited by his lieutenant, a young Englishman named Lumley; and it was high time he appeared on the scene, for the rascals had taken the opportunity of getting on the spree, indulging in much inebriate jollification preparatory to starting for the seat of war. They would be all right, though, once away from the canteens and under proper discipline--and under proper discipline he intended they should be. So promptly mustering them he marched them off without any farther delay, not even waiting a day in Alice, the divisional town of Victoria East, where a fresh batch was picked up. At the latter place, however, a despatch awaited him, ordering him, instead of going to King Williamstown, to proceed straight through to join the main column on the borders of Sandili's location.
All along the road he met with fresh rumours and alarms. The rebellion was spreading; the whole of British Kaffraria and the Transkei was over-ran; nearly all the settlers' houses in the more exposed districts were burnt down; the Police express-riders carried their lives in their hands, as they darted across the hostile country, several of them having been cut off already. Added to which these districts were in a dire state of alarm, by reason of impending troubles nearer home, for the Gaika clans in the Waterkloof and Blinkwater fastnesses, under the chiefs Tini Macomo and Oba, were in a state of restlessness, and meanwhile signal fires burnt nightly on the higher peaks of the Amatola.
It was, indeed, a motley crew, was this ”levy” of which the two Englishmen were in command, numbering between sixty and seventy men.