"You promised to marry _him_--a Jew--one of those who denied the Lord
Jesus and crucified Him?"
"I am sure Max did not do that; for one thing, he was not born at the
time."
"Don't tell me! If he did not do it himself his forefathers did, and
the Lord laid a curse on the Jews."
"Who ever heard of such a thing as marrying a Jew?" broke in Mrs
Hattingh. "I am sure the minister would refuse you the sacrament if you
were to do it."
"I love him, and I will marry no one else," replied Susannah composedly.
"It is not even as if he were rich," continued Mrs Hattingh; "but he
has nothing--he is only a servant. The shop belongs to his brother."
Maria and Petronella, were just on the other side of the mat-house wall,
listening to all that was said, and giggling and making signs to each
other. Old Schalk bethought him of his overdue account at the shop, and
wondered how this unexpected development would affect his relations with
Nathan, with whom he could not afford to quarrel. But Max was often, as
at present, in charge of the business; he also had to be considered.
The old Boer came to the conclusion that his safest course was to ignore
the whole affair, at all events for the present, until after Nathan's
return.
"The idea of her wanting to marry a little boy like that! A nice joke,
indeed! When Nathan comes back he will soon put him right."
"And to think of her looking at a fellow of his size when a fine man
like Jan Roster, who has plenty of stock and a farm of his own, just
wants but a little encouragement to make him have the banns put up for
the next Nachtmaal."
Susannah turned away indignantly and left the mat-house. Jan Roster was
a young farmer who owned land on the opposite fringe on the Desert, many
arid miles from Namies. His business, the peculiar methods of which
will be explained later on, sometimes brought him to northern
Bushmanland. Recently he had cast looks of tenderness at Susannah.
This, however, was not much of a distinction; he was known to be very
anxious indeed to get married--in fact, he had proposed to nearly every
good-looking girl within two hundred miles of his farm. In spite of his
flourishing circumstances, his bulky build, and his not specially
ill-favoured appearance, no girl could ever be got to take him
seriously. He had spent a few months at a college at Stellenbosch, and
thus received what, by courtesy, was termed an education. Theology was
his speciality, and could he have conveniently combined the ministry
with farming as carried on upon his peculiar lines, he would undoubtedly
have attempted to enter the Church. As things were, he was in the
habit, when on his rounds, of preaching to the Trek-Boers and
half-breeds. It was understood that he was ambitious of entering
Parliament eventually, and that he looked upon sermons as a preparation
for debating in the senate of his country.
"Is it true that you are going to marry the little Jew?" asked Maria, as
Susannah left the mat-house.
Susannah passed on indignantly without deigning an answer. She was not
going to stand having her lover referred to in such slighting terms.
It was past eight o'clock when the waning moon looked over the eastern
rim of the Desert. Max was sitting on a packing-case outside the shop,
trying to make up his mind as to whether he ought to walk over to the
camp and see Susannah or not. His heart said "Go," but his reason said
"Stay." He instinctively divined that there would be opposition to any
connection between himself and Susannah on the part of the Hattinghs.
He wondered whether Susannah had told about what had happened. It
seemed to him impossible that such a thing could be kept concealed--the
clucking lizards which came out of their sand-burrows after the sun had
gone down, and the green pneumoras squeaking on the bushes, seemed to be
discussing nothing else--to be proclaiming their opinion of the
occurrence far and wide. When the moon arose Susannah happened to be
watching it as well. Perhaps he saw her face reflected on the gleaming,
pearly surface. Max arose from his seat and walked over to the Hattingh
camp.
He went straight to Susannah and took her shyly outstretched hand. She
returned his ardent pressure slightly, and a spasm of bliss went through
him. Then he turned and greeted the others with nervous effusiveness,
but his advances were very coolly received. No one volunteered a remark
for some little time. The silence became oppressive; it was broken by
Old Schalk, in evident pursuance of a conversation which Max's visit had
interrupted. He addressed the visitor--
"What is the real belief of the Jews and the Roman Catholics about
Christ?"
"I--I don't exactly know," replied Max hesitatingly; "I was very young
when I left home."
"But you know well enough," said Mrs Hattingh. "Jan Roster told us all
about it in his last sermon: Pontius Pilate and the soldiers were Roman
Catholics, and--and--"
"Well, wife, we are waiting."
"Ach, Schalk, you heard the sermon as well as I. At all events the Jews
and the Roman Catholics between them crucified the Lord."
"I know that as well as you do, woman; but what I asked about was their
belief. Oom Dantje van Rooyen says that he heard from the minister that
the Jews and the Roman Catholics do not believe quite the same thing."
"Oh! what should I know about that? But surely" (turning to Max) "you
can tell us about your faith?"
Poor Max did not know what to say. Nathan had, over and over again,
impressed upon him that, although there was certainly no truth in any
religion whatever, he must be sure to keep all the Jewish feasts and
observances--with the exception of fasts, which he was to pretend to
keep--all the days of his life. He had heard other Jews discussing
ritual and religion in the same strain. He wished heartily that he knew
the details of Susannah's faith, so that he might believe what she
believed. He replied, lamely enough--
"You must ask my brother about these things."
"Another thing I should like to know," said Old Schalk; "that is, why
they eat children in the synagogues?"
It was strange to hear this echo of one of the lying cries of the
Judenhetze in this remote corner of an African Desert.
"You must wait and ask my brother," repeated Max.
"Yes; they are a wicked lot in their religion," continued Old Schalk.
"Fancy a religion that forbids one to eat pork and teaches you to eat
children--not their own children, oh no, but Christian children that
they steal in the streets of the big towns, and then fatten up for the
Passover!"
"But, uncle, I don't think they do so any more," said Susannah, moved by
the pain in Max's face. "It was long ago that they used to do that."
"What does a girl like you know about such things? Did we not read
about it in the book which Uncle Sarel lent us, and didn't Jan Roster
say it was quite true, and that they caught the Jews doing it in Russia
the other day? Why, even Max cannot say it isn't true."
"I--I never heard of it," faltered Max.
"Never heard of it?" said Mrs Hattingh in low but indignant tones.
"What a dreadful thing to be so ignorant of one's own religion!"
Max went home slightly consoled in his humiliation by another gentle
pressure from the hand of Susannah at parting. But some of the bloom
had already been rubbed off the blossom which had unfolded in such
radiant fairness only a few hours before. He could see that Susannah's
secret had been surprised from her, and that opposition and danger
loomed ahead. He anticipated that Nathan would make his life a burthen,
would torture him with coarse allusions and unpleasant jokes. This he
was prepared for, and the prospect was a sickening one. The future was
heavily clouded, and behind the clouds visible he foreboded others. But
"the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." His love was sure, and
he knew it to be returned. Sleep knit up the ravelled fabric of his
happiness, and memories of the new bliss he had tasted haunted his
dreams.
The next morning brought trouble. Shortly after breakfast Max saw, to
his dismay, three members of the Hattingh family labouring heavily
across the sand towards the shop. Mrs Hattingh was in the centre--she
leant heavily on the arms of her granddaughters. As the three entered
the shop, the two girls looked at Max with an expression of
indescribable slyness. Max groaned in spirit; Nathan had given him
strict injunctions that on no account whatever were any members of the
Hattingh family to get any more credit. He knew instinctively that this
was what they had now come to ask for.
Mrs Hattingh sat down heavily upon a packing-case, panting from the
exertions of her walk. Maria and Petronella lifted the flap of the
counter quite unceremoniously and walked in. Then they began to pull
down the goods from the shelves and examine them. Mrs Hattingh
beckoned to Max to come to her. In a low tone and with meaning looks
she told him that she wanted to buy some material for a dress for
Susannah. Max knew this to be a lie, but he did not dare to show his
knowledge. She eventually selected enough material for two dresses;
but, from the number of yards ordered, Max could see that his attachment
was being used for the purpose of providing the two large specimens of
young womanhood present with frocks which they badly needed. Other
articles were selected by the girls, who kept darting meaning looks at
him and uttering whispered hints about their cousin. When they left,
carrying several large parcels, the Hattingh account had been increased
on the _debit_ side by upwards of two pounds sterling, and the fact
pressed like an indigestion upon the already laden breast of poor Max.
Within a few days the Trek-Boers began to flock into Namies. Pasturage
was now plentiful, and the gregarious instinct, which is present to a
certain extent even in a Trek-Boer, prompted them to draw together. A
week after the rain there were fully a dozen camps grouped around that
of Old Schalk.
A good deal of flirting of a sort went on among the young men and
maidens. Music nightly startled the coneys until they scuttled away
among the rocks of the kopje, for "Oom Schulpad" turned up from no one
knew where with his old fiddle, and played reels and polkas which made
the feet of the young people itch to be dancing.
Oom Schulpad was an elderly and deformed man who owned a
disreputable-looking cart and three small donkeys, by means of which he
used to make extremely long journeys through the Desert, which he knew
as well as he knew his instrument. In many places where another would
have died of thirst, Oom Schulpad could find water. Music and hunting
were his two passions, and he loved his rifle as much as his fiddle.
Sometimes he would penetrate deep into the dunes, and return with a load
of gemsbok bultong. He was a thorough vagrant by disposition, and
hardly ever settled down at one spot for more than a fortnight at a
time. His music made him a _persona grata_ at all the camps, so he
simply passed from one to another--always a welcome guest.
Being very clever and versatile as a mechanic, he could mend harness,
repair a gun, make veldschoens, or replace a broken spoke in the wheel
of a wagon. His name, which means "Uncle Tortoise," was given him on
account of the shape of his back. He had a real talent as well as a
passionate love for music. His tongue was an extremely bitter one, and
he was accordingly feared by those whom he disliked. He had never
married. He said that he hated women; nevertheless he was usually to be
found, when not away hunting, in the company of young girls. These, as
a rule, liked and trusted him.
It was with the advent of the Trek-Boers that the real troubles of poor
Max began. The relations between himself and Susannah formed the
standing joke at Namies for weeks. Every day the shop would be filled
with idle young men and women whose only purpose was to joke at the
expense of the unhappy lover. Many of these jokes were coarse, and made
Max burn with shame. He often longed for muscle so that he might
revenge his wrongs. Sometimes the supposed prospective domestic
arrangements of the young couple with reference to the extremely limited
accommodation at the back of the shop would be discussed in realistic
and distressing detail. Attached to the shop was a little room about
twelve feet square, which formed a lean-to. This, with the shop and a
small room at the back which was used as a store for hides, formed the
whole extent of the premises. The back room was occupied by the
brothers jointly as a sleeping chamber. Their meals were cooked by a
Hottentot boy behind a bush, and were eaten upon the counter.
Susannah also had her troubles, but she did not suffer nearly as much as
Max, for she had an extremely bitter tongue, and in the game of chaff
was more than a match for any one who attacked her.
These two thus underwent a discipline which stood them in good stead
afterwards. In the course of a couple of weeks they became more or less
callous, and were it not for the dread of Nathan's return, which
oppressed him like a nightmare, Max would have been happy enough. But
Nathan was now a fortnight overdue, and was daily expected to arrive.
On the afternoon of the second Sunday after the meeting at the foot of
the koekerboom on the top of the kopje, Max suddenly made up his mind
and did what was for him a very heroic deed. He put on his best
clothes, went boldly over to the Hattingh camp, at which there was a
large miscellaneous gathering. He walked around the circle and shook
hands with every one present. Then he took his seat next to Susannah,
who blushed with pleasure at her lover's daring. She had been rather
hurt at the way in which he had kept aloof from her, and his
vulnerability to the banter which she despised had annoyed her.
After a few minutes the company was electrified mildly by seeing these
two walk off together. This time they did not make for the kopje, but
strolled across the flats, where a few springbucks were playing about
unconcernedly as though they knew it was Sunday.
Old Schalk snorted violently, and began to mutter questions at his wife.
She--her conscience gripping her over the credit which, by virtue of
her tacit approval of his addresses towards her niece she had induced
Max to give--whispered audibly--
"Ach! what does it matter? Let the children alone."
The conversation soon glided back to the channel in which it had been
flowing when the interruption came. A certain stranger--a man who was
travelling through Bushmanland for the purpose of buying cattle for the
Cape Town market--was discussing astronomy with Old Schalk, who was a
strong supporter of the geocentric theory. The cattle-dealer was not by
any means well up in his subject; as a matter of fact, he was simply
retailing certain notions which he had picked up in a crude state from a
young relative of his who had been to a college, and which he had not
been able properly to digest. Nevertheless he stoutly maintained his
thesis.
"Ach! what?" said Old Schalk. "These star-peerers, what do they know?
Are their eyes better than mine? Can they shoot springbucks better than
I can? Don't I see that the sun gets up every morning _there_" (he
pointed to the east), "and don't I see every evening that it goes down
_there_?"
He shook the long stick towards the west, as though threatening an
astronomer with the consequences of his folly.
"Ja, Oom; but you see it's this way--"
"Ach! don't tell me about your this way and that way. You find me a
star-peerer who knows his Bible or has better eyes than I have, and I'll
listen to him. Doesn't the Bible say that Joshua told the sun to stand
still? Doesn't the Prophet Isaiah say that the Lord stretched the sky
over the earth like a tent? These star-peerers are all rogues and
Romanist heathens."
"But, Oom," said the cattle-dealer, who was, as it were, blowing the
fuse of a torpedo which he had in reserve, "how is it that these
star-peerers are able to tell long before the times when the sun and the
moon will be darkened?"
"How are they able to tell? Why, they find it out from the almanack, of
course." The only almanack with which the Trek-Boer is acquainted is
one issued by the Dutch Reformed Church. This document is adorned with
the Signs of the Zodiac, and is heavily garnished with Scripture texts.
It is believed by certain classes of the Boers that the almanack is
annually deduced from the Bible by a committee of Church ministers.
The cattle-dealer, blown up--to change the old metaphor--by his own
torpedo, had to own himself vanquished. Old Schalk's reputation for
wisdom rose higher than ever, and a deadly blow was dealt to the
heliocentric theory in Bushmanland.
The lovers strolled away over the sandy plain, which was now covered
with a rich carpet of variously hued flowers. Gorgeous gazanias of the
tint of the richest mahogany, and with the base of each petal eyed like
a peacock's tail; blue, sweet-scented heliophilas, purple and crimson
mesembryanthemums, and lovely variegated pelargoniums brushed their feet
at every step. They said little to one another, and that little could
interest none but themselves. Both were ignorant and illiterate to a
degree; their range of ideas was more limited than it is easy to
describe, or even to realise; but their hearts were young and full of
vague, sweet, unutterable thoughts. The springbucks--the advance
detachment of a large "trek"--were scattered, singly or in small groups,
over the illimitable plain. They sheered off, feeding tamely, to either
side. The meerkats scuttled back to their low, burrow-pierced mounds,
where they sat erect on a tripod, formed by hind legs and tail, ready to
dart underground. The striped-faced gemsbuck-mice dashed wildly into
their burrows in terror, and then out again in uncontrollable curiosity.
As they walked homeward in the short gloaming Max asked Susannah if she
would always be true, even if her people were against him and his
brother drove him away. The girl looked straight into his eyes and
answered "Yes," in a clear, low tone. Max, believing her, saw Hope
shining through the clouds of uncertainty that filled the future, and
was happy.
When they reached the camp the short Desert twilight had nearly faded
and the eastern stars were burning brightly. The gathering had
dispersed, and Old Schalk, sitting smoking in his chair before the
mat-house, was the only person visible.
"Well," he said, "what is this they tell me about you and my niece?"
"I want to marry her, Uncle; I am very fond of her."
"Marry her? You will have to become a Christian before you marry _my_
niece?"
This was meant sarcastically. No Boer believes in the possibility of a
Jew becoming a Christian.
"Yes, Uncle, I'll do that at once."
"Hear him, now. He thinks a Jew can become a Christian as easily as a
man can change his shirt. Did you ever hear of a jackal turning into a
tame dog in a day?" Max flushed hotly but made no reply. "I never
heard of such a thing in all my life," continued the old Boer. "It is
not even as if you were rich and had a shop of your own; but you are
only a poor little boy without anything. Look here, I do not want your
brother Nathan to think that I have had anything to do with this
foolishness."
Just then a diminutive Hottentot approached from behind the camp,
saluted Old Schalk, and squatted down on the ground close by upon his
hams. The man was clad in a few ragged skins and looked weak and
emaciated.
"Well, schepsel, where do you come from?"
"Out of the veld, Baas."
"And where are you going to?"
"I have come to the Baas."
"For what?"
"I have come to the Baas to look for work."
"Ja, and what is your name?"
"I am old Gert Gemsbok, Baas."
"What! Are you the vagabond Bushman who got Willem Bester into the
tronk?"
"I am he, Baas."
"And you come to ask me to give you work?"
"I only told the truth, Baas."
"Ach, what does a Bushman know about truth?"
"If I did a sin when I spoke the truth, Baas, I have had my punishment:
for six long years I have lived like a badger in a hole. I am a human
being, Baas; let me come back and live among other human beings."
"No, no, schepsel; not a Boer in Bushmanland will give you work. Willem
Bester died in the tronk. No, no!"
"I have a sickly old wife, Baas, and she cannot live any longer on the
veld-kost. Give me work, Baas, and I will serve you faithfully."
"No, no, schepsel; go back and live with the badgers."
Max heard and wondered. His awakening soul was shocked at the
unreasoning cruelty of the old Boer's conduct. The Hottentot had arisen
slowly and feebly from the ground and was walking away; the young Jew
followed and soon overtook him. Max had been bartering fat-tailed sheep
for goods with some of his customers and he wanted a herd. He told Gert
Gemsbok to follow him to the shop.
That night the old Hottentot told his tale, or most of it, to Max. They
sat up in the shop until late, Gemsbok happy in the enjoyment of a
pipeful of good tobacco. He had lacked the means of smoking ever since
he had been driven into banishment. The suffering which this
deprivation must have entailed can only be realised by those who know
the Hottentot's dependence upon his pipe.
Max burned with wrath at what he heard; his ingenuous soul revolted at
the tale of injustice and stupid cruelty. By instinct he could tell
that the old man's story was ingenuous and, so far as it went,
unreserved. He called to mind that Old Schalk had not attempted to deny
Gemsbok's plea that the evidence given by him against Willem Bester was
true.
Max engaged Gemsbok at a salary of eight shillings per month, with
rations for himself. This was a fair rate of remuneration for
Bushmanland. The work which the old Hottentot had to do was to look
after the flock of three hundred fat-tailed sheep which Max had recently
acquired, to herd them all day in the Desert, and to haul water for them
with a derrick out of the well when he drove them home every night.
Gemsbok knew that he could every day gather enough veld-kost to
supplement his ration and make it suffice for his wife as well as for
himself. He had left her under a bush a few miles away. Before
daylight next morning he was well on his course to fetch her, with hope
and gladness filling his heart.
The Gemsbok _menage_ was established in a cleft of the kopje-side about
fifty yards behind the store. The habitation consisted of a movable
screen of loose bushes about two feet high and shaped like a crescent.
This was shifted from one side to another of the fireplace as the wind
changed. A vagrant dog which Gert had found far out in the Desert,
half-famished for want of water, was added to the strength of the
establishment, and became the devoted slave of its rescuer.
The old couple now tasted happiness probably far greater than any they
had previously experienced. Max was kind to them. Presents of old
sacks and a few articles of cast-off clothing, fragments of food from
his scanty table, an occasional pinch of tobacco,--such things filled
the hearts of these belated creatures with deep joy and thankfulness. A
pot of salve for the old woman's legs was provided, and the result was
satisfactory.
Max found Gert a most intelligent and entertaining companion, and
mentally far in advance of any of the inhabitants of the Desert whom he
had met. The old man's experiences had been varied and his life full of
the tragic, and he seemed not to have forgotten anything he had ever
seen or heard in the course of his long struggles against adverse Fate.
The ramkee was much in evidence. Oom Schulpad, with a true artist's
generous appreciation of the art of a fellow craftsman, often brought
his violin to the shop at night. There the two musicians would contend,
like two troubadours, in a kind of tournament of song. Sometimes they
would play duets, and it was then that Gemsbok proved his skill, for he
accompanied without difficulty any air played upon the violin after he
had heard it once. He would sit and listen attentively whilst Oom
Schulpad played it slowly over. Then the notes of the ramkee would
second the more civilised instrument as truly as if the music lay
printed before the player and he could read it.
On the night when this occurred for the first time, after Gemsbok had
returned to his scherm, Oom Schulpad sat silently on the counter for a
few minutes. Then, as he took his departure he said, in a musing tone--
"Ja, he knows more music than I, that old Bushman."
As Gemsbok's poor old wife was entirely helpless, it was he who fetched,
wood and water and attended to all the domestic duties. The old woman
slept most of the day, but at night the cheerful firelight from the
scherm lit up the kopjes long after the last of the Boers lay snoring.
Then the old couple would sit, toasting themselves at the cheerful
blaze, and chatting happily together, except when some lively tune from
the ramkee startled the ancient silence of the Desert.
One of the Boers camped nearest the shop was a man named Koos Bester,
cousin of the Willem Bester who had died in prison after being sentenced
upon old Gemsbok's evidence. Koos was a very big, sallow, dark-haired
man with a scraggy fringe of coarse, black beard around his chin, and
eyes of a very peculiar shade of light grey. His usual mien was
melancholy, his strength was prodigious, his hands and feet were of
enormous size and looked as if they belonged to some one else.
Koos Bester was a man who seldom either spoke or smiled; nevertheless he
could hardly be called morose. He was by no means a bad fellow in his
way, and was devotedly attached to his comely wife and his three small
children. His father-in-law, a very old man, lived with him. The
Besters usually camped at a water-place on the other side of the dunes.
As, however, no rain had fallen in that vicinity for some time, they
moved over to Namies, meaning to return to the spot they had come to
regard as their home as soon as circumstances permitted.
Koos had been much attached to his cousin Willem and had felt the
latter's imprisonment and death very keenly. He hated the sight of Gert
Gemsbok, who continually reminded him of Willem's fate; the very fact of
knowing that the old Hottentot was in the neighbourhood was sufficient
to make him miserable. One day he asked Max to dismiss Gemsbok, but Max
indignantly refused.
The scherm was in full view of the Besters' camp, and the sight of the
cheerful camp-fire with the old couple sitting next to it was a nightly
affront. Then the ramkee got upon Koos' nerves to such an extent that
he became very unhappy indeed. Gert's tune, with its endless
variations, became absolutely hateful to the melancholy Boer. One day,
in the course of a discussion on the subject, Koos had the bad taste to
insult Oom Schulpad by a reference to his physical defects. The old
fiddler had spoken in terms of admiration of the Hottentot's skill as a
musician, and Koos lost his temper. Oom Schulpad said nothing at the
time, but he scored up a grudge against Koos. Whenever Oom Schulpad
felt that he owed another anything in this way, he took a pride in
devising means to pay the debt.
At length Koos found that he could stand the ramkee no longer, so he
shifted his camp to the other side of the kopjes, where the tune could
not reach his disgusted ears. A few days afterwards a thunderstorm
passed over the eastern fringe of the dunes, and he returned to his
favourite camping-place. But Gert Gemsbok's air haunted him for weeks
with deadly persistency.