"It is not the perfect but the imperfect that have need of love."
As I followed the little pathway which led from the house to the
post-office buildings, where we were all to be shut in for the night,
some one came running towards me and I presently recognised Mr Maurice
Stair.
"Where are the other ladies?" he cried. "Is that you, Miss Saurin?
Colonel Blow is fearfully annoyed that you aren't all in long ago.
There has been a warning sent in from the patrol and it's quite on the
cards that we may be attacked to-night."
As he reached me I saw that there was another man behind him. The light
was not good but I was able to distinguish a short, thick figure, and a
puffy, fiery face. Upon the evening air I also recognised that faint
sickening aroma of spirits I had already learned to associate with
complexions of such radiant hue.
"This is Mr Skeffington-Smythe. He was so anxious about his wife that
he left the column at Charter and has come down here to stay in _laager_
and look after her." Mr Stair was at no pains to conceal the note of
irony in his voice, but it appeared to be quite lost upon his companion.
So this was the gallant dare-devil Monty!
"Where is the poor little woman?" he confidentially enquired, lurching
towards me. But I withdrew hastily beyond his radius, and moved on,
waving my hand towards the house I had just left.
"You'll find them all there--and Mr Stair, bring my dressing-case will
you? I've come without it."
I had indeed come without anything, and without an idea of where I was
to sleep or spend the night. It is true that I had seen Adriana piling
up rugs and mattresses, mine amongst them, and carrying them out, but I
could not suppose that Mrs Valetta had given any special directions for
my comfort.
The post-office was humming like a beehive. Men were hastily finishing
the barricades, and Colonel Blow was shouting instructions with a
sandwich in one hand and a sand-bag in the other. Evidently he had had
no time to dine. Lanterns flickered everywhere, and a group of men were
getting a Hotchkiss into position on top of a piece of raised ground.
One man was hopping about, groaning and swearing because the wheel of
the carriage had gone over his toe. Others were struggling with barbed
wire of which an entanglement was being made for an outer defence.
I passed through the doors of the building, and going along a wide
passage came out into a verandah which gave on to a large court-yard.
This was the prison yard, and away at the other end of it were the
cells--a line of strong doors and barred windows. A fire near by had a
three-legged pot upon it which gave up a smell of stew; and another fire
had a large kettle boiling over it from a tripod.
All round the inside of the walls ran a wooden balcony. This had been
roughly erected during the past week, but it was sufficiently strong to
support the men who would have to stand to the walls, and fire over them
in case of an attack at close quarters.
In the centre of the yard tents had been pegged out. Mrs
Skeffington-Smythe's, a red-and-white-striped affair dominated the
situation, and struck a gay sort of sea-side note; several children were
frolicking in and out of it, diving under the flaps and showering
laughter. The Dutch women had slung all their things against the wall
and were sitting on the heap, one of them nursing a baby, the other
feeding a small child with bits cut off a strip of _biltong_. Many
piles of rugs and blankets were lying about on the gravelled ground, and
by the dim light of several paraffin lamps suspended from the verandah I
recognised Mrs Marriott turning over pile after pile, evidently in
search of her own. Near me in the verandah a little group of Fort
George women were standing. They had the quiet air of sensible,
self-possessed women, prepared for any emergency, and there was no fuss
or excitement about them at all. They behaved as though sleeping in
_laager_ was an everyday affair. I heard Mrs Grant say that Colonel
Blow had just told her that the alarm had been a false one occasioned by
some stray oxen which had approached the outlying picket; and Mrs
Burney said casually that she had felt sure it was something of the kind
and that there was no likelihood of an attack until the main _impis_ had
been engaged with some of our men. They dismissed the subject
carelessly. Another woman said:
"My Cliffie and your boy Dick are rather big to put in among the little
ones, so I've fixed them up in a little dormitory by themselves behind
the prisoners' dock."
"My chicks are fast asleep already, and now that we've got that curtain
up don't you think it would be as well if we all went off to bed?"
"It will certainly leave the coast clear for the other women."
"Yes: that is what I mean."
"Oh, and Mrs Grant have you got those biscuits for your little Allie?"
"Everything belonging to us is in there, and I've brought my spirit-lamp
to make tea in the morning. I expect we shall have to turn out early."
"At seven thirty Colonel Blow told me. Three of those tents are for the
hospital sisters--they are coming into _laager_ too--but not until the
last thing at night, and they're to go first thing in the morning; there
will be a strong guard round the hospital all night."
As I listened to these gentle, simple souls how I wished it had been to
their set I belonged instead of to the set that looked over their heads
and called them frumps and dowds. With their families of young children
round them most of them had parted with a husband whom she might never
see again. Yet here they were with cheerful faces making their plans
and fixing up their children to take up as small amount of room and be
as little nuisance as possible. I realised that as Dr Jameson had
said, these were the real pioneers and patriots. These were the people
Mr Rhodes needed for his new bit of Empire!
As they were leaving the verandah one of them gave a glance down the
yard and stopped.
"There's poor Mrs Marriott! I wonder if--couldn't we ask her to come
in with us?"
They discussed the matter softly amongst themselves.
"I'm afraid she wouldn't, Mrs Burney. Poor thing, she is so
frightfully sensitive--she might think we were pitying her."
"We'll chance that. I'll go and ask her--shall I?"
She went quickly to where Mrs Marriott was now sitting with her hands
in her lap, on an unshapely roll of blankets.
"Mrs Marriott--do let me help you get your things in," she said. "And
have you settled on a place yet? Won't you come in with Mrs Grant and
Mrs Shannon and me? We're packed like sardines, with the children, but
I'm sure we can make room for one sardine more--"
"Oh! no. No, thank you," stammered the other woman. "I prefer being
alone. It doesn't matter where I am. I can manage without any one's
help."
She had begun by being emotional and ended by being rude: but Mrs
Burney did not take offence.
"Well, be sure and come to us if you find that you're not comfortable,"
she said cheerily as she hurried away.
A Dutch woman's husband presently appeared and helped to sort out the
children and various utensils from the Dutch domestic heap. It became
plain that they were to be bestowed _en bloc_ for the night in one of
the prison cells. Whilst I was watching them make a _trek_ to the end
of the yard, a large stately woman, who looked like a dowager duchess,
staggered in under the weight of many bundles, followed by a haughty
satellite with a Wellington nose, who might have been at least a
princess of the blood, so scornful was her air and the swish of her
petticoat. I had never seen these imposing people before and wondered
who they could possibly be, but they evidently had the advantage of me
in this matter, for I distinctly heard my name whispered between them.
They surveyed me curiously as if glad to have an opportunity of
inspecting me so closely. I returned their gaze tranquilly and at last
they went away.
Eventually there was no one left in the yard but Mrs Marriott and
myself. I looked at her. She sat absolutely still on her untidy heap
of clothes, her body slightly bent forward, both hands tucked down in
her lap. A straw sailor-hat was pulled over her face, and her lank,
heavy, dark hair lay in a dreary sort of knot far down the nape of her
neck, shewing, between hat and hair, a long, unbeautiful line that had a
kind of despair in it. Her thin figure in a well-fitting gown might
have been pretty and temperamental, but in the faded pink blouse, and
now historical grey skirt, soiled and shapeless and frayed at the edges,
she was merely thin and shabby and utterly unattractive. I never saw a
more hopeless look worn by any woman. It was not only that she was
shabby--she was as spiritless as a dead crow. Her clothes drooped upon
her as the leaves of a withering pumpkin flower droop in the sun. Her
face wore the terrible look of uninteresting, unloved middle-age that
even despair cannot mark with distinction. Yet she must once have had
good looks far above the average. The traces of them were on her
still--but they were only traces.
Presently Mrs Valetta and her party arrived. Adriana, loaded like a
beast of burden, brought my dressing-case to me immediately, but the
others when they saw me turned and fled as if from the yellow peril.
Mrs Skeffington-Smythe, extraordinarily pale and subdued, made her way
to her striped tent, followed by her husband who talked vivaciously and
fondly to the back of her gown. He had a very thick-lipped mouth with a
tiny straw-coloured moustache perched upon it, whilst around it a smile
hovered unceasingly. He seemed to breathe the spirit of good-will and
_camaraderie_ (mingled with other spirits) towards all the world: but it
was evident that Mrs Skeffington-Smythe was not under his spell. She
kept on, saying nothing. Only, as she went to pull down the flap of the
tent I saw her eyes snapping, and she pulled so hard that the tent
flapped over on her and her devoted husband, whereupon a number of
strange words issued in muffled tones from under the billowing canvas;
and they were not all uttered in a man's voice. Later, whilst they were
at the business of pegging it out again, Mrs Valetta came on to the
verandah and called out that she and Miss Cleeve had found a small room
for themselves. Mr Skeffington-Smythe blithely responded:
"Ah! Good--That is good.--very good. I will come and see what I can do
for you presently when I have fixed up my dear little woman."
But Mr Skeffington-Smythe uttered never a word. Only, when next her
Monty addressed a fond remark to her she very briefly and violently
replied:
"Oh, shut up!"
It was plain that I was to be left to my fate. Adriana had brought some
rugs and thrown them on to my dressing-case, and I seated myself upon
them to consider the matter of accommodation for the night. A slight
drizzle of rain began to fall, making the fires hiss softly, and
throwing a sad little veil over everything.
Perhaps I looked nearly as hopeless and forlorn as Mrs Marriott, but I
was far from feeling so. I had the light heart of the woman who loves
and is beloved again, with the whole of life stretching out beautifully
before me, and it would have taken more than all the rain out of heaven
to drench the joy out of me that night. All the same it behoved me to
be up and doing. There was no sense in getting wet and it also seemed
indicated that I should rescue Mrs Marriott from a watery fate.
Certainly, I had heard her refuse to have anything to do with that nice,
kind little Mrs Burney, but Mrs Burney had not had a passionate flame
of love and faith re-lit in her heart that very night as I had. I felt
loving-kind to all the world, and as though I could simply feed on snubs
if only they came from some one who was really unhappy--not merely cross
or spiteful.
And surely this poor woman sitting on the rugs was unhappy, and had
cause to be. I remembered Dr Marriott's face as he turned to the west,
and the new light that had been lit in his doomed eyes by the strong,
kind action of Anthony Kinsella--_my_ Anthony Kinsella.
We were alone in the big yard now--Mrs Marriott and I; and silence
reigned, except for the murmur of Mr Skeffington-Smythe's voice inside
the closed tent. Perhaps he was explaining to his dear little woman why
he was the only man in the town not out on patrol or helping with the
barricades.