Nicholas Andrew Jelf was Civil Commissioner and Resident Magistrate for
the town and division of Schalkburg.
In person he was a tall, middle-aged, rather good-looking man, with dark
hair, and a grizzled, well-trimmed moustache, and whose general
appearance fostered an idea which constituted one of his favourite
weaknesses--that he resembled a retired military man. When mistaken for
such openly, he positively beamed; and more than one shrewd rogue got
the benefit of the doubt, or obtained material mitigation of the penalty
due to his misdeeds, by appealing, with well-feigned ignorance, to the
occupant of the Bench as "Colonel." By disposition he was easy-going
and good-natured enough, and bore the reputation among his brother Civil
servants of being something of a duffer.
By these the magistracy of Schalkburg was regarded as anything but a
plum. It was very remote, the district large, and peopled almost
entirely by Dutch farmers. The town itself was a great many miles from
the nearest railway station; moreover, it was a dull little hole, with
the limited ideas and pettifogging interests common to up-country
townships. It boasted a large Dutch Reformed church--an unsightly,
whitewashed parallelogram with staring, weather-beaten windows--item
about a dozen stores, a branch of the Standard Bank, and two "hotels,"
designed to afford board and lodging, of a kind, to such of the
storekeepers' clerks or bank clerks--to whom means, or inclination or
opportunity, denied the advantages and felicities of the connubial
state, for a stranger was an exceeding rarity. Half of its houses were
untenanted, save for a few days on the occasion of the quarterly
_Nachtmaal_ [The Lord's Supper] when the township would be filled with a
great multitude of Boers and their families from far and near, those who
did not own or hire houses, camping with their waggons on the town
commonage. But it boasted no natural beauty to speak of, just dumped
down, as it were, on a wide, flat plain. Some few of the houses had an
_erf_ or two of garden ground attached, which in the spring constituted
by contrast a pleasing spot of green amid the prevailing red dust, but
for the rest the impression conveyed was that of a sun-baked,
wind-swept, utterly depressing sort of place.
Nicholas Andrew Jelf was seated at his office table amid a pile of
papers, and his countenance wore a very worried expression indeed. The
post had just been delivered, and the contents of the bag had consisted
of a greater crop than usual of Government circulars, eke requests for
returns, as it seemed, upon every subject under heaven. Moreover, the
newspapers, through which he had glanced hurriedly, were mainly
remarkable for the number and conspicuousness of their scare headlines.
Sensation was the order of the day, and out of the chances of a rupture
with the two Republics the canny editor managed to suck no small
advantage. But poor Mr Jelf could lay to himself no such consolation.
His thoughts were for his already large and still increasing family, and
the ruinous hole it would make in the by no means extravagant pay of a
Civil servant were he obliged to send it away to a safer locality, as he
greatly feared he ought to lose no time in doing.
He turned to his correspondence. The Government desired to be informed
of this--or the member for Slaapdorp had moved for a return of that--or
Civil Commissioners were requested to obtain the opinion of the leading
farmers of their divisions as to how far rinderpest microbes were likely
to affect donkeys, given certain conditions of temperature and
climate... and nearly a dozen more of like practical utility. Mr Jelf
threw down the papers with a grunt of disgust and swore mildly to
himself.
"They seem to think a Civil Commissioner must be a whole damned walking
`Encyclopaedia Britannica,'" he growled. "What's this? More of the
same stuff, I suppose."
But, as he read, his attention became more riveted and his face anxious
and graver. For the official communication, marked "Confidential," was
one urgently requesting information as to the tone and disposition of
the Dutch farmers in his division as bearing upon the present state of
affairs, and desiring a full and circumstantial report at the very
earliest opportunity. The effect of this was to deepen the worried look
upon his face and to cause him to swear a little more. Just then a tap
came at the door, and his clerk entered.
"Anything by the post that wants seeing to, sir?"
"Anything? I should think so. Just look at all this, Morkel," pointing
to the heap of stuff upon the table.
Morkel did look at it--looked somewhat blue, moreover. He was fond of
sport and had intended to ask for a day or two's leave to join a buck
hunt on one of the farms, and was fully capable of grasping the amount
of work all that confounded correspondence was going to entail. He was
a well-set-up, good-looking young fellow of five and twenty, very proud
of his fair proportions and waxed moustache and somewhat dandified
attire; for there were three or four passable-looking girls in
Schalkburg, and the Civil Commissioner's clerk was Somebody in the
place.
"One would think, at such a time as this, Government would have plenty
to do without off-loading all these insane circulars upon us," went on
his chief, irritably. "It isn't as if the things they want to know were
of any practical use--they might as well move for a return of the number
of buttons on every prisoner's breeches over at the gaol as some of the
things they do ask, but we've got to humour them. By the way, though,
there's one thing they want to know that has a practical side, and that
ought to be looked after by a special department manufactured for this
emergency. _We_ have quite enough to do without going on the stump, so
to say. Look at this."
He handed the letter marked "Confidential" to his subordinate. The
latter read it through carefully, and as he did so he saw light. He
thought he was going to get his shoot after all, and a good deal more of
it than he had at first hoped for.
"The thing is so unreasonable," went on Mr Jelf. "Every mortal fad
sprung on the House by some tin-pot country member, some retired
canteen-keeper and proportionately consequential, is off-loaded on the
Civil Commissioner. The Civil Commissioner is requested to do this, and
the Civil Commissioner is desired to supply information upon that--as if
we hadn't quite enough to do with our financial and judicial duties.
Why the deuce can't Government have its own Secret Service department as
Oom Paul is supposed to have?"
Morkel listened sympathetically, as he always did when his chief
indulged in a grumble. The two were on very good terms. Jelf had a
liking for his subordinate, who officially was smart and well up to his
work, and socially was the only man in the place with whom he could
associate on even terms, except the District Surgeon, who was a trifle
too fond of his glass, and inclined to be dictatorial. Morkel, for his
part, reciprocated the liking. His chief was easy-going, and
good-natured in the matter of leave officially, and socially took a sort
of paternal and friendly interest in him. These two Civil servants,
therefore, got on admirably together.
"Well, the thing has got to be done," went on Jelf, "and the only way to
find out Dutch feeling is to go around among the Dutch. I haven't the
time to do it, and if I had it wouldn't help, because they'd all shut up
like oysters before me. But with you it would be different, Morkel.
They'd look upon you as one of themselves." He little thought how hard
he was stamping on the corns of his subordinate; the fact being that,
although born of Dutch parentage on either side, Morkel's weakness was
to imagine himself thoroughly and intensely English. "You would have to
affect Boer sympathies, though, and we know that under the present
Ministry that doesn't damage a Civil servant at headquarters, eh? What
do you think of the idea?"
"It's a first-rate one, sir. I might go around as if on a sort of
wandering shoot."
"Yes. Take your gun with you. That'll give colour to the affair. You
can have my trap and horses, only spare the springs all you can in going
through some of those bad drifts. You'd better take a week of it.
Harvey can do a lot of your work for you. He's almost too good a man
for a chief constable. You'd better get as far up into the
Wildschutsberg part as you can; they say the Boers up that way are the
worst--especially since that firebrand, Andries Botma, has been his
rounds. Look up Kershaw too; they say the fellow is three parts Boer in
his sympathies. You might be able to get something out of him."
A knock at the door and the Court constable, being bidden to enter,
announced that Mynheer Stephanus De la Rey wanted to see the Civil
Commissioner.
"The very man," exclaimed the latter. "You must get to his farm,
Morkel. You're sure to hear something there. Show him in, Hendrik."
Stephanus entered, and as he did so Morkel went out, laden with the
circulars that needed attention.
Left alone with the magistrate, Stephanus looked a trifle ill-at-ease.
His frank geniality seemed to have left him as he replied to that
official's inquiries after his family and concerns wherewith the Boer is
wont to preface any and every interview if on anything like friendly
terms with his interlocutor. Then he came to the point. He wished to
resign his field-cornetcy.
Jelf looked annoyed, and felt it too. What was the reason, he asked. A
reliable, influential man like Stephanus was just the man for the
office. He would be hard to replace. Would he not reconsider his
decision?
But Stephanus was firm; the fact being that since he had become
converted to the "patriot" cause he was too honest to continue holding a
post under the British Government, honorary as such might be. He did
not, however, desire to say as much to the Government representative
before him.
But the latter saw through his constraint, and went straight to the root
of the thing. He was irritated at the obstinacy, as he called it, of
this Boer, and the latter, to his amazement and indignation, found
himself being roundly lectured. The Civil Commissioner had heard
reports of disaffection among some of the farmers--notably those in the
Wildschutsberg district, but he had never expected to find among the
disloyal a man so universally respected as the one before him, and much
more to the same effect Stephanus, however, kept both his temper and his
dignity.
If that was the way the representative of the Government regarded him,
he replied, all the more reason why he should adhere to his original
resolve, and resign the field-cornetcy in favour of somebody who would
be more acceptable. Would Mynheer kindly receive his formal
resignation?
Yes, Mynheer would, in that case. But the farewell greeting between the
two was stiff and unfriendly.
Left alone, Jelf felt rather small. He had failed in judiciousness, in
tact, and he knew it. He had rubbed his interviewer the wrong way, just
at a time when it was essential to keep such a man well disposed and
friendly. At any rate, here was one item for his report. If Stephanus
De la Rey was disaffected, why, then, the whole of the Wildschutsberg
district must be a hotbed of seething sedition.
Thus he expressed matters to his subordinate, as, Stephanus having
departed, he called Morkel in to talk over their plan.
"He has all but come round, sir," said the latter. "I talked him over a
good deal, and his is one of the places I'm to go to. He won't give way
about the field-cornetcy, though."
"Oh, well, we must find somebody else, I suppose. They are all rebels
at heart, I believe, and he's as great a rebel as any. Yes? Come in."
Again the Court constable entered.
"Mynheer Grobbelaar wishes to see you, sir."
"Grobbelaar? Is it Jan Grobbelaar?"
"Yes, sir."
"Show him in. This is getting warm, Morkel. Another damned
Field-cornet. I suppose _he_ wants to resign now."
Swaart Jan entered, his projecting buck-teeth more prominent than ever
in an oily grin, as he shook hands with the two officials. Jelf's
manner was short, and he wasted no time in preliminaries.
"Well, Mynheer Grobbelaar, and what can I do for you?"
"Nay, Mynheer, thank you. I have not called on business; just to make a
little friendly visit."
"Oh, not on business?" said the magistrate, greatly relieved in his own
mind, yet wishing his visitor at the devil, bothering in like that
during office hours. But he changed his mind when the Boer explained
that he had been shooting a few springbuck lately, and he had brought in
a little matter of a saddle and a couple of haunches, which Mrs Jelf
might find good for roasting. It was from a young buck, and would eat
well--he went on, in his shambling, diffident way.
Jelf thawed at once, and thanked his visitor. Here was another
opportunity of getting at the state of Dutch feeling; and by way of
preliminary he told the other about Stephanus' resignation, adding, with
a laugh:
"I thought you had come to resign too, Mynheer Grobbelaar."
But the little man deprecated the possibility of any such idea having
entered his head. It was a pity Stephanus had resigned, though. In
answer to other questions--yes, there was some foolish talk among the
Boers around him, but it was only talk, and they were young men. The
Patriot? Oh, yes, he had visited some of them, but only on a flying
visit. Held meetings? Oh, no--and here Swaart Jan's hands went up in
pious horror. What did Mynheer think of him, and those around him, to
imagine that he, or they, would countenance such a thing for a single
moment?
Jelf felt intensely relieved. Here was loyalty at last, anyhow--another
item for his report. And he and his visitor parted with the most
cordial of farewells; and Field-cornet Jan Marthinus Grobbelaar, _alias_
Swaart Jan, went out grinning till his tusks nearly came below the level
of his chin, as he thought of the cases of Mauser rifles snugly stored
in a safe recess within his house, and the ammunition, a quantity
sufficient to blow up half the mountain, which was stowed away in a
cleft of an adjacent krantz, conveyed and deposited thither by authority
of no permit given under the hand of Nicholas Andrew Jelf, Resident
Magistrate.
Here was loyalty at last, anyhow! as that astute official had put it to
himself.