DIAMONDS GALORE
The troopers left in charge of the Kopje Farm, after the rest of the
Rangers departed, had many reasons why they should congratulate
themselves on their admirable temporary quarters. The New Zealanders
for months had lived "hard," as it is termed in soldier language.
Now they were, as a trooper expressed it, "in clover."
Most of the men serving in the ranks of the Rangers were gentlemen by
birth, and many had had a university education. Sheer love of
adventure had drawn them from the Antipodes to South Africa, and
certainly during the whole of the unfortunate campaign no corps
serving under the Union Jack did more yeoman service than the lads
from Maoriland.
True, they had their failings. Never expecting quarter themselves,
in the hot rush of fight, their warlike instincts caused a few, but
very few, regrettable incidents. The conflict over, they were the
most generous of opponents, treating the wounded and captured Boers
with the utmost kindness.
Peace reigned at the Kopje Farm. All outward traces of the late
conflict had been removed before sunset, and Mrs. Lovat had so far
recovered her spirits that she ventured to walk across to the kraal
where the captives were confined.
To the wounded Boers, Mary Lovat was the model of kindness. With her
deft fingers she applied linen bandages to their wounds, brought them
beef-tea made by her own hands, and was most assiduous and tender in
her attentions.
War is an awful thing. The colours that depict it must always be of
a sombre, if not ebon hue, and Mary Lovat that night earned the
gratitude, often audibly expressed, of the burghers, smitten, though
not mortally, by the fire from the rifles of the Auckland Rangers.
Pat O'Neill, war-seasoned old veteran that he was, acted as Mary's
trusted adjutant. He was here, there, and everywhere; at one moment
giving a wounded Boer a drink of lemon water, at another listening to
the whisperings of a delirious burgher uttered in strange tongue,
about his late home on the Modder River.
All that was possible under the circumstances was done. Colonel
Malcolmson, with generous forethought and self-denial, left his
assistant surgeon at the Kopje Farm. His principal medico, Dr.
Rennie, had elected to remain behind with the few surviving wounded
at Langeman's Nek.
As the sun was setting, Jack Lovat and his friend Sergeant Morton
took a stroll round the farm, and their conversation turned to the
subject uppermost in the New Zealander's mind--diamonds.
"The place you call Diamond Valley is teeming with stones, I am
positive," said Morton decisively. "I'm going to explore the place
to-morrow, if nothing turns up to prevent me."
"With not the same results as before, I hope," observed Jack, with a
laugh.
"I shall take my chance," said Morton, smiling as he spoke. "I'm
convinced from what I saw that a valuable diamondiferous reef is in
existence in the valley. I would wager my bottom sovereign--only
unfortunately I haven't got one to stake--to next to nothing that a
fortune awaits the man who exploits the place. It is worth a try, at
any rate, and I'm going to make the venture in the morning, and
chance another capture."
"We'll go together, then, Sergeant," said Jack; "and if luck comes in
our way, we'll share and share alike. Most of the valley belongs to
my father, and if anything turns up, I know he will be awfully glad
to get back to the old country."
"Nothing to prevent it, I can assure you, my lad," observed Morton.
"Who knows what is lying hid in this wonderful valley of yours?
Perhaps it may contain more diamonds than are in the Kimberley
district."
Sergeant Morton was optimistic. He had already in his possession
stones which he estimated bore a face value of two thousand pounds.
"We'll go and have a chat now with father and mother," said Jack; and
the two friends made an adjournment to the room where Mr. and Mrs.
Lovat were seated, discussing the strange drama that had been enacted
at the Kopje Farm during the past few days.
The night passed without alarms. Sergeant Morton and Jack never
slept, but spent their time in visiting the sentries judiciously
placed around the farm by the former. During the night a couple of
wounded Boers succumbed to their injuries, and were buried in the
little paddock behind the house, now a miniature cemetery.
"Bedad, sorr," said Pat O'Neill to Jack after the burial, "this
brings back ould times--when I was twenty years younger than I am
to-day. Do you know, sorr, that I thought my blood was gettin' a bit
thin, but by the powers, I'm spoilin' for another fight. Maybe,
though, it won't come off. By the way, sorr, did the masther get
back those five hundred sovereigns the dirthy curs robbed him of at
Jagger's Farm?"
"I'm afraid father won't see them again, Pat," replied Jack. "The
poor beggars are welcome to keep them. They have had a stiffish time
of it lately. I hardly think they will make an attack on the Kopje
Farm again. What is it, Pat? Why are you fumbling in your
waistcoat?"
"I've got a bit av loot, Masther Jack," answered Pat. "No, sorr, not
your father's sovereigns;" and the Irishman drew out a dirty
chamois-leather bag.
Dipping his hand into the bag, Pat withdrew ten Kruger sovereigns and
showed them to Jack.
"Been looting, I see, Pat," said Jack laughingly.
"Well, sorr, they took the masther's gold," observed Pat, with a
grin, "an' thinks I, as the ould sayin' goes, fair exchange is no
robbery. Av course, sorr, I've been on the look-out for a bit av
loot. You will take the coins, Masther Jack?"
"No, no, my dear fellow; keep them yourself, if your conscience will
allow you."
"I'm not a thafe, sorr," said Pat. "I only thought that all was fair
in love an' war--although, the saints be praised, Pat O'Neill has
never been such a fool as to fall in love wid any woman yet."
"I meant no harm, Pat," observed Jack. "You get more fiery as you
get older."
"All right, Masther Jack; I'll stick to the money until your father
gets back his five hundred pounds. But I got something else from the
burgher I took these from."
"And pray what is that?" inquired Jack.
"Only a few glass stones, sorr," replied the Irishman; and he
stretched out his palm, on which reposed a dozen or more little
"glass stones."
"I think they're diamonds, sorr," said Pat, "but I'm no hand at
knowing jewellery."
Sergeant Morton was passing on his way to the ostrich kraal, and Jack
called to him.
"Hullo, Lovat! What is it?" inquired the Colonial. "Anything the
matter?"
"Kindly look at these glass stones, as Pat calls them," said Jack;
and Morton glanced at the pebbles, after which he looked
significantly at our hero.
"You might point out the burgher from whom you got these, Pat," said
Jack. "I should very much like to see the fellow who is fond of
carrying pieces of glass about with him."
"Then they are only glass, sorr?" inquired the Irishman, a shade of
disappointment creeping over his face.
"I can hardly say they are glass, at the present time, Pat," replied
Jack. "However, I want to see the burgher from whom you took the
crystals."
"All right, sorr," observed Pat, with alacrity. "Come wid me, an'
I'll show you the burgher. He's a rough-looking customer, and big
enough to eat the three av us up."
Saying this, Pat led the way to the ostrich kraal. The imprisoned
Boers looked very dejected, and anything but the fierce fighters
recently serving in Christian Uys's commando.
Pat walked up straight to a Free Stater of immense size and stature.
The Boer possessed a most forbidding countenance, and scowled as Pat
approached.
"This is the man, sorr, I took the coins an' crystals from," said Pat.
"Then hand the coins back to him. They belong to him," observed Jack.
Pat at once handed over the Kruger sovereigns to the big burgher,
whose face instantly assumed a suaver expression.
"We British try to be just," said Jack in Dutch. "I am sorry that my
father's servant took the money from you. Do you mind telling me
where you obtained these?" Saying this, Jack showed the crystals to
the burgher.
"I picked them up in a sluit not far from here. I thought they would
make a necklace for my daughter."
"And you know what they are?" inquired Jack.
"Crystals," answered the Boer. "They are very plentiful in my
country, but have not the same yellow colour as these."
"Will you sell them to me?" asked Jack.
"No, I will not take anything," answered the burgher; "I will give
them to you. You have restored my money, and I am content."
Jack Lovat was honest, and as he turned away with Sergeant Morton,
said to the Boer, "I will see you again."
Jack and his New Zealand friend returned to the house, and for an
hour were shut up in the former's room.
Morton examined the crystals very carefully, while Jack awaited his
verdict with considerable anxiety. At last the New Zealander spoke.
"They are diamonds, Jack, sure enough, but not of the same quality as
the stones I possess, or the one Kaffir Pete gave you. You see these
have a yellow tint distributed unevenly throughout their substance.
If the tint had been deeper and of a uniform nature throughout, the
pebbles would represent a value of three thousand pounds at least.
The majority of them are fractured, too. I should hand them back to
the Boer. After you have done that, we'll make tracks for Diamond
Valley. I don't suppose we shall meet with the same adventure as we
did before. The place seems quiet enough now."
Jack acted on Sergeant Morton's suggestion, and offered to restore
the stones to the Boer from whom they were taken; but the latter, to
our hero's surprise, refused to accept them, saying, "Keep them; I
can get more when I return to my own country. I thank you all the
same for your kindness."
An hour later, after a consultation with his father and mother, Jack
stood under the verandah of the farmhouse, waiting for Sergeant
Morton, who was making an inspection of the sentries and guards. It
was a beautiful day, and the sky was without a cloud. Brilliant
sunshine flooded the scene, and down in the valley the heat hung
quiveringly above the veldt.
Only a few hours had passed since a scene of bloodshed and violence
was being enacted at the Kopje Farm. Now all is peaceful and still,
while the silence is almost oppressive.
Leisurely Sergeant Morton sauntered up to where Jack was standing,
and in his rear stalked Mr. Lovat's faithful henchman, Pat.
"All is serene, Jack," said the New Zealander, as he came up. "I
don't think we shall see or hear anything of our fellows until
evening. So come along. I've told Pat to be on the alert, and to
bring us word instantly should any change in the situation take
place."
"You understand, Pat," said Jack to the Irishman, who was standing at
attention, "if any one turns up, you will at once come over the kopje
to us. Here are my glasses, and be sure you keep a sharp look-out."
"All right, sorr," answered Pat; "I understand. But mind you, don't
go and get captured again, sorr."
Jack laughed, and linking his arm within the New Zealander's, the two
friends began climbing the kopje in the direction of Diamond Valley.
Both were well armed, Jack having a Lee-Enfield rifle, while Morton
carried a Mauser, with the use of which he was well acquainted. The
Mauser formed part of the spoil taken in the previous day's fight.
"If we can find poor Pete's body, we'll bury him decently," said
Jack. "He was a good and faithful servant of my father's."
"I'm afraid there will scarcely be any necessity for that," observed
Morton. "The aasvogels, I am afraid, will have been at work."
The summit of the kopje was soon reached, and presently Jack and his
companion were overlooking the immense depression known as the
Diamond Valley.
Jack led the way straight to where the Kaffir Pete had been killed,
and to his great satisfaction found that the poor black's body had
been left untouched by the loathsome birds of prey, although several
of them could be seen hovering in the air at some distance away.
Our hero insisted upon Pete having a decent temporary interment, and
a hollow was soon found, in which the "boy" was placed, and covered
with stones and earth.
"Now, Jack, my boy, we must make tracks for the diamonds," said
Morton, after the burying operations were completed. "Hullo!" he
added. "Look out, Jack!"
The New Zealander, one of the coolest Irregulars serving in the
campaign, was speaking in an excited tone of voice.
Jack Lovat turned his head in surprise. Not more than a yard from
him, a huge black snake, with uplifted head and ominous-looking
poison fangs, was preparing to hurl itself on the young settler.
In a moment Jack took in the situation, and sprang aside. A rifle
report rang out, and the loathsome reptile fell at Jack's feet, an
inert mass of dead matter. A bullet from Sergeant Morton's rifle had
shattered the snake's head.
"A near squeak that, Jack," said Morton, with a laugh. "They tell me
that a bite from one of these snakes means almost instant death."
"I'm jolly glad, Sergeant, you warned me, and better still, hit the
brute. I'm awfully obliged to you."
"Don't mention it, Jack. And now for that little blue reef!"
responded the sergeant. "I trust we shall be able to find it."
"I think I can locate it," said Jack; "it is somewhere down here."
"Right you are, Jack," observed Morton. "The side of the donga rose
almost perpendicularly, I remember. A band of blue clay runs
horizontally along the gneiss. Why, here we are. This is the very
place where the nigger said he found the pebble you showed me. I've
come prepared this time, Jack;" and the sergeant drew a
formidable-looking bill-hook from his belt.
"I've gone one better than that," said Jack, with a smile, as he took
a small pickaxe from his pocket and placed it in a shaft which he had
brought from the farm.
"The very thing, Jack!" cried Morton. "Why, you're a trump!"
"Living on the veldt makes you sharp," said Jack drily.
Morton took the pickaxe and began hewing at the band of blue clay.
"No, leave it alone, Jack," said the sergeant, as Jack stooped to
pick up the clay. "I may hit you, and that would be a very bad
ending to what I consider a promising career."
"All right, Sergeant," responded Jack cheerfully. "Then I'll stand
by and see you do the hard work, while I share the profits."
For a few moments, Sergeant Morton applied the pickaxe vigorously,
then a ringing sound followed the blows.
"A selvage pocket!" muttered the New Zealander, as he scooped out the
remnants of clay. "Hard luck, Jack, the worst of bad luck. The
pocket has given out. It can't be helped. And now let us examine
our spoil."
With trembling fingers, it must be confessed, Sergeant Morton
proceeded to examine the blue clay he had dislodged, while Jack with
a big clasp knife followed suit.
An exclamation burst from the New Zealander.
"Jack!" he cried excitedly, "we are both made men!" and he showed to
our hero a substance rather larger than a walnut.
"This is a klip, Jack; one of the finest South Africa has yet
produced. I must rest a while; I'm too excited to do any more;" and
the cool-headed New Zealander, the man who had been in a hundred
fights without showing the slightest trace of fear, sat down, and
with great difficulty restrained himself from shedding tears.
Poverty and its attendant struggles would be a thing of the past,
and, in his Antipodean home, the war-worn Ranger would be able to
share in the luxuries and happiness which wealth, if judiciously
used, can bestow on its fortunate recipients.
Several additional diamonds of large size were found by Morton and
Jack in the blue clay dislodged from the selvage pocket. These were
carefully gathered, and the two friends were on the point of
returning to the Kopje Farm, when they saw a figure silhouetted
against the skyline.
"I fancy it is Pat," said Jack. "I wonder what news he brings. I
trust Colonel Malcolmson has captured the commando."
"I hope such may be the case," observed the New Zealander. "However,
let us move forward as rapidly as we can, and ascertain what is the
matter."
The new-comer proved to be Pat, and the worthy Irishman seemed to be
somewhat flurried.
"I've come as ye tould me, sorr," said Pat, as the two friends came
up.
"Any news?" inquired Jack.
"The best av news, sorr," answered Pat. "It would take more than
half a dozen commandos to take the Kopje Farm now."
"What do you mean, Pat? I don't quite understand."
"I mane that a rigimint av English Lancers is now at the farmstead,
and some av the Rangers are expected soon. There has been a big
fight close to Springbokfontein, and the Boers have been badly licked
by our men, and the burgher they call Uys has been captured wid all
his baggage. You are going home now, sorr, I suppose?"
"That is so, Pat," answered Jack; and we may rest assured that the
distance between the summit of the kopje and the farm was covered in
record time.
Pat's information proved correct; for three squadrons of British
Lancers were temporarily resting at Mr. Lovat's ostrich farm.
Jack was greatly impressed by the appearance of the Lancers. Most of
the soldiers were young men, but all looked fit and hardy. Theirs
had been a rough life for many months, trekking up and down the
colony in search of rebel bands.
Major Lambton, who commanded the Lancers, proved an affable
gentleman, and received Jack with the greatest courtesy. Sergeant
Morton half expected a wigging for being absent from his post, but
escaped the infliction.
A couple of despatch riders had ridden over from Springbokfontein,
conveying the news of the Boers' defeat, and also a command that the
prisoners captured at the Kopje Farm should be hurried down to the
town at the earliest moment. Half a dozen troopers were to be left
at the farm, if Mr. Lovat so desired.
Major Lambton decided to leave a half troop of his Lancers with the
ostrich farmer, while with the remainder of his command he intended
to join Colonel Malcolmson.
Jack obtained permission from his father, although it was not readily
accorded, to proceed with Sergeant Morton to Springbokfontein. Our
hero felt sorry for Piet Van Donnop and his comrades, who appeared
very dejected. The journey, too, had to be performed on foot over a
rough country.
The wounded Boers were left in the ostrich kraal, until arrangements
for them to be conveyed to Springbokfontein could be completed.
It was late in the afternoon when Jack and Morton arrived at the
town. A big fight had taken place in the early morning between the
Rangers and the now concentrated commando of the redoubtable
Christian Uys.
It had proved a stubborn encounter; but the Rangers, under the
brilliant leadership of Colonel Malcolmson, forced the fighting, and
after much slaughter on both sides, the Boers ran up the white flag,
and the action ceased.
Christian Uys, Veldt-cornet Steyn, and several officers were taken
prisoners, and lodged in the Town Hall at Springbokfontein. It was
evident that the Boers had sympathisers in the town, for many
scowling looks were bestowed on the Lancers and the Rangers,
escorting the prisoners captured at the Kopje Farm.
To Jack's great delight, he found that the British wounded had
arrived from Langeman's Nek, and although Major Salkeld was severely
wounded, the doctor had great hopes of his complete recovery.
Jack Lovat had an object in visiting Springbokfontein, and soon after
his arrival he sought and obtained an interview with Colonel
Malcolmson.
Jack was accompanied by Sergeant Morton, and in an open though
respectful manner he made known his errand to the colonel.
"I have come to make inquiries about my father's money, sir," began
Jack. "He was robbed of five hundred pounds a few days ago, by some
Boers belonging to the commando you have captured."
"Oh, yes, I see, my boy; you are Mr. Lovat's son," said the colonel.
"I must congratulate you on the splendid spirit you have shown during
this very trying time. You have a perfect right to make every
inquiry. I know, of course, about the robbery, for such it was, I am
shortly having an interview with Commandant Uys and his veldt-cornet.
If you wish, you can go with me, and you as well, Sergeant Morton. I
believe the back of the rebellion is broken in this part of the
colony."
Jack thanked the colonel for his courtesy, and said that he should be
pleased if he could have an opportunity of speaking to the
commandant. A few minutes later, Jack stood before the redoubtable
Boer leader.
Uys was confined, along with several of his officers, in a large room
in the Town Hall. Several of the Boer officers with him had been
wounded, but there was a haughty look on all their faces. Although
captured, their spirits were not broken.
The commandant opened his eyes in astonishment as he beheld Jack, who
returned the gaze with interest.
"I have come to ask about my father's money, Commandant," said Jack.
"What money?" demanded Uys.
"The money of which he was robbed by your brigands," answered Jack
boldly in Dutch.
"You are the young rooinek who escaped from my laager?" inquired the
commandant.
"I am," replied Jack stolidly.
"After killing one of my best burghers," said the Boer leader in a
stern tone of voice.
"You say so," said Jack. "It is a time of war, and many men are
being killed daily. I have come to ask about my father's money, of
which he was robbed at Jagger's Farm. He was not, and is not even
now, at war with your race."
"I have not your father's money," observed Uys. "If I had, I would
restore it to you. I cannot always restrain my burghers."
"But you are responsible for their actions, Commandant," said Jack
boldly. "Your men also without provocation attacked my father's
farm, but our Kaffirs and I repelled their assault."
"One question, youngster. I have given you an honest answer to a
straight question. Who was your companion when we captured you in
the donga?" asked Uys.
"He is here to answer for himself, Commandant. His name is Morton;"
and Jack stepped to one side, saying as he did so, "Allow me,
Commandant, to introduce Sergeant Morton of the Auckland Rangers to
you."
The Boer leader frowned, and muttered, "I thought so! He is a lucky
fellow."
Finding that he could derive no satisfaction from the answers given
to his inquiries respecting his father's money, Jack bowed to the
commandant and retired.
A couple of hours later, our hero found himself at the Kopje Farm,
relating to his parents the adventures of the day, and when he flung
himself on his bed, he felt that peace once more had come to dwell
around his father's farmstead.
* * * * * *
Two years have passed away since the incidents recorded in this
little book happened.
Under the silken folds of the Union Jack, Dutch and British alike
enjoy the same liberties and privileges; but it is not of the land
under the brilliant Southern Cross that we now write.
The purple heather is blooming on the moors and hillsides of bonnie
Scotland, and in the glens shots are heard. Grouse-shooting has
commenced in the Highlands, and a party of four are stalking through
the heather, on sport intent.
One is a young lady, just blossoming into glorious womanhood. She is
a keen sportswoman, and can handle a gun as well as the best of them.
Her name is Miss Lovat, and she is the sister of the Laird of
Airdtullish. Her face is darker than those of the majority of her
fair countrywomen, but veldt breezes and scorching sunshine have the
knack of tanning faces belonging to those of European birth.
Her companion is a gentleman of soldierly appearance, with a decided
limp in his gait. The hair shading his temples is tinged with gray,
although he is not yet forty. The quiet, soldierly man is our friend
Major Salkeld, whose gallant defence against big odds in the donga
over against Diamond Valley is recorded in the annals of the Auckland
Rangers.
Since the grouse-shooting began, he has been Miss Lovat's devoted
companion.
Let us glance at the remaining couple. Both are men,
broad-shouldered and clean-flanked. We have met them before; for the
younger man is our old friend Jack Lovat, and his companion Charlie
Morton, head partner in the big diamond-broking firm of Morton &
Company, Hatton Garden.
Jack's father is dead, and lies in the little cemetery at
Orangefontein. The blow received from the clubbed rifle at Jagger's
Farm inflicted a more severe wound than was at first imagined, and he
gradually sickened and died.
Mrs. Lovat is still in the land of the living, but remains in
delicate health. She is lovingly watched over by Mary and Jack, who
are doing their best to smooth the dark passage leading to the life
beyond.
There is another character who acts the _rôle_ of butler at
Airdtullish Castle whom we must present to our readers. He is our
honest friend Pat O'Neill, formerly the faithful henchman of Mr.
Lovat, and now of his son. His tongue is as voluble as ever, and
nothing delights him more than to recount the deeds of the young
laird of Airdtullish to the servants at the Castle.
Morton and Jack are engaged in conversation.
"I often think about those five hundred sovereigns, Jack, which the
Boers sneaked from your father. You never saw them again, I suppose?"
Jack laughed as he replied, "Well, perhaps I never did rest my optics
upon the identical coins; but Colonel Malcolmson saw that my father
had their value in horses, before he took Maestral's commando to
Springbokfontein. My father certainly lost nothing by the bargain.
It was rather fortunate in one sense that the Boers robbed him."
"What do you mean?" inquired the diamond merchant.
"Why, you would never have seen the Diamond Valley and Airdtullish.
Our paternal home would never have been mine. I deeply grieve,
however, for my father."
The pair relapsed into silence, and stood for a few moments gazing at
the purple-clad mountains in the west. Here we must leave them, and
say "Au revoir!" to the quartette, and to our boy readers who have
followed the fortunes of the inmates of the Kopje Farm.
THE END
WILLIAM COLLINS, SONS, AND CO. LTD., LONDON AND GLASGOW