<h2><SPAN name="chap19"></SPAN>CHAPTER XIX.<br/> HANS COETZEE COMES TO PRETORIA</h2>
<p>Once he had turned the corner, John’s recovery was rapid. Naturally of a
vigorous constitution, when the artery had reunited, he soon made up for the
great loss of blood which he had undergone, and in a little more than a month
from the date of his wound physically, was almost as good a man as ever.</p>
<p>One morning—it was the 20th of March—Jess and he were sitting in
“The Palatial” garden. John was lying in a lone cane deck chair
that Jess had borrowed or stolen out of one of the deserted houses, and smoking
a pipe. By his side, in a hole in the flat arm of the chair, fashioned
originally to receive a soda-water tumbler, was a great bunch of purple grapes
which she had gathered for him; and on his knees lay a copy of that
journalistic curiosity, the “News of the Camp,” which was chiefly
remarkable for its utter dearth of news. It was not easy to run a journal in a
beleaguered town.</p>
<p>They sat in silence: John puffing away at his pipe, and Jess, her
work—one of his socks—lying idly upon her knees, her hands clasped
over it, and her eyes fixed upon the lights and shadows that played with broad
fingers upon the wooded slopes beyond.</p>
<p>So silently did they sit that a great green lizard came and basked himself in
the sun within a yard of them, and a beautiful striped butterfly perched
deliberately upon the purple grapes! It was a delightful day and a delightful
spot. They were too far from the camp to be disturbed by its rude noise, and
the only sounds that reached their ears were the rippling of running water and
the whispers of the wind, odorous with the breath of mimosa blooms, as it
stirred the stiff grey leaves on the blue gums.</p>
<p>They were seated in the shade of the little house that Jess had learned to love
as she had never loved a spot before, but around them lay the flood of sunshine
shimmering like golden water; and beyond the red line of the fence at the end
of the garden, where the rich pomegranate bloom tried to blush the roses down,
the hot air danced merrily above the rough stone wall like a million
microscopic elves at play. Peace! everywhere was peace! and in it the full
heart of Nature beat out in radiant life. Peace in the voice of the
turtle-doves among the willows! peace in the play of the sunshine and the
murmur of the wind! peace in the growing flowers and hovering butterfly! Jess
looked out at the wealth and glory which were spread before her, and thought
that it was like heaven; then, giving way to the melancholy strain in her
nature, she began to wonder idly how many human beings had sat and thought the
same things, and had been gathered up into the azure of the past and forgotten;
and how many would sit and think there when she in her turn had been utterly
swept away into that gulf whence no echo ever comes! But what did it matter?
The sunshine would still flood the earth with gold, the water would ripple, and
the butterflies hover; and there would be other women to sit and fold their
hands and consider them, thinking the same identical thoughts, beyond which our
human intelligence cannot travel. And so on for thousands upon thousands of
centuries, till at last the old world reaches its journey’s appointed
end, and, passing from the starry spaces, is swallowed up with those it bore.</p>
<p>And she—where would she be? Would she still live on, and love and suffer
elsewhere, or was it all a cruel myth? Was she merely a creature bred of the
teeming earth, or had she an individuality beyond the earth? What awaited her
after sunset?—Sleep. She had often hoped that it was sleep, and nothing
but sleep. But now she did not hope that. Her life had centred itself around a
new interest, and one that she felt could never die while that life lasted. She
hoped for a future now; for if there was a future for her, there would be one
for <i>him</i>, and then her day would come, and where he was there she would
be also. Oh, sweet mockery, old and unsubstantial thought, bright dream set
halowise about the dull head of life! Who has not dreamt it, but who can
believe in it? And yet, who shall say that it is not true? Though philosophers
and scientists smile and point in derision to the gross facts and freaks that
mark our passions, is it not possible that there may be a place where the love
shall live when the lust has died; and where Jess will find that she has not
sat in vain in the sunshine, throwing out her pure heart towards the light of a
happiness and a visioned glory whereof, for some few minutes, the shadow seemed
to lie within her?</p>
<p>John had finished his pipe, and, although she did not know it, was watching her
face, which, now when she was off her guard, was no longer impassive, but
seemed to mirror the tender and glorious hope that was floating through her
mind. Her lips were slightly parted, and her wide eyes were full of a soft
strange light, while on the whole countenance was stamped a look of eager
thought and spiritualised desire such as he had known portrayed in ancient
masterpieces upon the face of the Virgin Mother. Except as regards her eyes and
hair, Jess was not even a good-looking person. But, at that moment, John
thought that her face was touched with a diviner beauty than he had yet seen on
the face of woman. It thrilled him and appealed to him, not as Bessie’s
beauty had appealed, but to that other side of his nature, of which Jess alone
could turn the key. It was more like the face of a spirit than that of a human
being, and it almost frightened him to see it.</p>
<p>“Jess,” he said at last, “what are you thinking of?”</p>
<p>She started, and her face resumed its normal expression. It was as though a
mask had been suddenly set upon it.</p>
<p>“Why do you ask?” she said.</p>
<p>“Because I want to know. I never saw you look like that before.”</p>
<p>She laughed a little.</p>
<p>“You would call me foolish if I told you what I was thinking about. Never
mind, it has gone wherever thoughts go. I will tell you what I am thinking
about now, which is—that it is about time we got out of this place. My
uncle and Bessie must be half distracted.”</p>
<p>“We’ve had more than two months of it now. The relieving column
can’t be far off,” suggested John; for these foolish people in
Pretoria laboured under a firm belief that one fine morning they would be
gratified with a vision of the light dancing down a long line of British
bayonets, and of Boers evaporating in every direction like storm clouds before
the sun.</p>
<p>Jess shook her head. She was beginning to lose faith in relieving columns that
never came.</p>
<p>“If we don’t help ourselves, my opinion is that we may stop here
till we are starved out, which in fact we are. However, it’s no use
talking about it, so I’m off to fetch our rations. Let’s see, have
you everything you want?”</p>
<p>“Everything, thanks.”</p>
<p>“Well, then, mind you stop quiet till I come back.”</p>
<p>“Why,” laughed John, “I am as strong as a horse.”</p>
<p>“Possibly; but that is what the doctor said, you know. Good-bye!”
and Jess took her big basket and started on what John used feebly to call her
“rational undertaking.”</p>
<p>She had not gone fifty paces from the door before she suddenly caught sight of
a familiar form seated on a familiar pony. The form was fat and jovial-looking,
and the pony was small but also fat. It was Hans Coetzee—none other!</p>
<p>Jess could hardly believe her eyes. Old Hans in Pretoria! What could it mean?</p>
<p>“<i>Oom</i> Coetzee! <i>Oom</i> Coetzee!” she called, as he came
ambling past her, evidently heading for the Heidelberg road.</p>
<p>The old Boer pulled up his pony, and gazed around him in a mystified fashion.</p>
<p>“Here, <i>Oom</i> Coetzee! Here!”</p>
<p>“<i>Allemachter!</i>” he said, jerking his pony round.
“It’s you, Missie Jess, is it? Now who would have thought of seeing
you here?”</p>
<p>“Who would have thought of seeing <i>you</i> here?” she answered.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes; it seems strange; I dare say that it seems strange. But I am a
messenger of peace, like Uncle Noah’s dove in the ark, you know. The fact
is,” and he glanced round to see if anybody was listening, “I have
been sent by the Government to arrange about an exchange of prisoners.”</p>
<p>“The Government! What Government?”</p>
<p>“What Government? Why, the Triumvirate, of course—whom may the Lord
bless and prosper, as He did Jonah when he walked on the wall of the
city.”</p>
<p>“Joshua, when he walked round the wall of the city,” suggested
Jess. “Jonah walked down the whale’s throat.”</p>
<p>“Ah! to be sure, so he did, and blew a trumpet inside. I remember now;
though I am sure I don’t know how he did it. The fact is that our
glorious victories have quite confused me. Ah! what a thing it is to be a
patriot! The dear Lord makes strong the arm of the patriot, and takes care that
he hits his man well in the middle.”</p>
<p>“You have turned wonderfully patriotic all of a sudden, <i>Oom</i>
Coetzee,” said Jess tartly.</p>
<p>“Yes, missie, yes; I am a patriot to the bone of my back! I hate the
English Government; damn the English Government! Let us have our land back and
our <i>Volksraad</i>. Almighty! I saw who was in the right at Laing’s Nek
there. Ah, those poor <i>rooibaatjes!</i> I killed four of them myself; two as
they came up, and two as they ran away, and the last one went head-over-heels
like a buck. Poor man! I cried for him afterwards. I did not like going to
fight at all, but Frank Muller sent to me and said that if I did not go he
would have me shot. Ah, he is a devil of a man, that Frank Muller! So I went,
and when I saw how the dear Lord had put it into the heart of the English
general to be a bigger fool even that day than he is every day, and to try and
drive us out of Laing’s Nek with a thousand of his poor
<i>rooibaatjes</i>, then, I tell you, I saw where the right lay, and I said,
‘Damn the English Government! What is the English Government doing
here?’ and after Ingogo I said it again.”</p>
<p>“Never mind all that, <i>Oom</i> Coetzee,” broke in Jess. “I
have heard you tell a different tale before, and perhaps you will again. How
are my uncle and my sister? Are they at the farm?”</p>
<p>“Almighty! you don’t suppose that I have been there to see, do you?
But, yes, I have heard they are there. It is a nice place, that Mooifontein,
and I think that I shall buy it when we have turned all you English people out
of the land. Frank Muller told me that they were there. And now I must be
getting on, or that devil of a man, Frank Muller, will want to know what I have
been about.”</p>
<p>“<i>Oom</i> Coetzee,” said Jess, “will you do something for
me? We are old friends, you know, and once I persuaded my uncle to lend you
five hundred pounds when all your oxen died of the lungsick.”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes, it shall be paid back one day—when we have hunted the
damned Englishmen out of the country.” And he began to gather up his
reins preparatory to riding off.</p>
<p>“Will you do me a favour?” said Jess, catching the pony by the
bridle.</p>
<p>“What is it? What is it, missie? I must be getting on. That devil of a
man, Frank Muller, is waiting for me with the prisoners at the Rooihuis
Kraal.”</p>
<p>“I want a pass for myself and Captain Niel, and an escort. We wish to go
home.”</p>
<p>The old Boer held up his fat hands in amazement.</p>
<p>“Almighty!” he said, “it is impossible. A pass!—who
ever heard of such a thing? Come, I must be going.”</p>
<p>“It is not impossible, Uncle Coetzee, as you know,” said Jess.
“Listen! If I get that pass I will speak to my uncle about the five
hundred pounds. Perhaps he would not want it all back again.”</p>
<p>“Ah!” said the Boer. “Well, we are old friends, missie, and
‘never desert a friend,’ that is my saying. Almighty! I must ride a
hundred miles—I will swim through blood for a friend. Well, well, I must
see. It depends upon that devil of a man, Frank Muller. Where are you to be
found—in the white house yonder? Good. To-morrow the escort will come in
with the prisoners, and if I can get it they will bring the pass. But, missie,
remember the five hundred pounds. If you do not speak to your uncle about that
I shall be even with him. Almighty! what a thing it is to have a good heart,
and to love to help your friends! Well, good-day, good-day,” and off he
cantered on his fat pony, his broad face shining with a look of unutterable
benevolence.</p>
<p>Jess cast a look of contempt after him, and then went on towards the camp to
fetch the rations.</p>
<p>When she returned to “The Palatial,” she told John what had taken
place, and suggested that it would be as well, in case there should be a
favourable reply to her request, to have everything prepared for a start.
Accordingly, the cart was brought down and stood outside “The
Palatial,” where John unscrewed the patent caps and filled them with
castor-oil, and ordered Mouti to keep the horses, which were all in health,
though “poor” from want of proper food, well within hail.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, old Hans pursued the jerky tenour of his way for an hour or so, till
he came in sight of a small red house.</p>
<p>Presently, from the shadow in front of the red house emerged a rider, mounted
on a powerful black horse. The horseman—a stern, handsome, bearded
man—put his hand above his eyes to shade them from the sun, and gazed up
the road. Then he seemed suddenly to strike his spurs into the horse, for the
animal bounded forward swiftly, and came sweeping towards Hans at a hand
gallop.</p>
<p>“Ah! it is that devil of a man, Frank Muller!” ejaculated Coetzee.
“Now I wonder what he wants? I always feel cold down the back when he
comes near me.”</p>
<p>By this time the plunging black horse was being reined up alongside of his pony
so sharply that it reared till its great hoofs were pawing the air within a few
inches of Hans’ head.</p>
<p>“Almighty!” said the old man, tugging his pony round. “Be
careful, nephew, be careful; I do not wish to be crushed like a beetle.”</p>
<p>Frank Muller—for it was he—smiled. He had made his horse rear
purposely, in order to frighten the old man, whom he knew to be an arrant
coward.</p>
<p>“Why have you been so long? and what have you done with the Englishmen?
You should have been back half an hour ago.”</p>
<p>“And so I should, nephew, and so I should, if I had not been detained.
Surely you do not suppose that I would linger in the accursed place?
Bah,” and he spat upon the ground, “it stinks of Englishmen. I
cannot get the taste of them out of my mouth.”</p>
<p>“You are a liar, Uncle Coetzee,” was the cool answer.
“English with the English, Boer with the Boer. You blow neither hot nor
cold. Be careful lest I show you up. I know you and your talk. Do you remember
what you were saying to the Englishman Niel in the inn-yard at Wakkerstroom
when you turned and saw me? I heard, and I do not forget. You know what happens
to a ‘land betrayer’?”</p>
<p>Hans’ teeth positively chattered, and his florid face blanched with fear.</p>
<p>“What do you mean, nephew?” he asked.</p>
<p>“I—ah!—I mean nothing. I was only speaking a word of warning
to you as a friend. I have heard things said about you by——”
and he dropped his voice and whispered a name, at the sound of which poor Hans
turned whiter than ever.</p>
<p>“Well,” went on his tormentor, when he had sufficiently enjoyed his
terror, “what sort of terms did you make in Pretoria?”</p>
<p>“Oh, good, nephew, good,” he gabbled, delighted to find a fresh
subject. “I found the Englishmen supple as a tanned skin. They will give
up their twelve prisoners for our four. The men are to be in by ten to-morrow.
I told their commandant about Laing’s Nek and Ingogo, and he would not
believe me. He thought I lied like himself. They are getting hungry there now.
I saw a Hottentot I knew, and he told me that their bones were beginning to
show.”</p>
<p>“They will be through the skin before long,” muttered Frank.
“Well, here we are at the house. The General is there. He has just come
up from Heidelberg, and you can make your report to him. Did you find out about
the Englishman—Captain Niel? Is it true that he is dead?”</p>
<p>“No, he is not dead. By the way, I met <i>Oom</i> Croft’s
niece—the dark one. She is shut up there with the Captain, and she begged
me to try and get them a pass to go home. Of course I told her that it was
nonsense, and that they must stop and starve with the others.”</p>
<p>Muller, who had been listening to this last piece of information with intense
interest, suddenly checked his horse and answered:</p>
<p>“Did you? Then you are a bigger fool than I thought you. Who gave you
authority to decide whether they should have a pass or not?”</p>
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