There was a task which, when he had little knowledge of the nearness and
the overwhelming nature of the tragedy that had since befallen, Matheson
had allocated to himself with every intention of going through with it;
the task included fixing the guilt of incitement to rebellion on to
Holman. He meant to bring Holman to account for his treachery.
Amid the hurried preparations for his wedding, which was to precede his
enlistment for Home service, he had no thought of evading this task. It
was inconvenient at the moment to give his time to outside matters; but
the tracking down of this man--this German spy who for years had been
fostering a spirit of hatred among the Boers to the end that these
people whom his country was deluding would, when the hour struck, serve
his country to their own undoing--the confronting him with his treachery
and the bringing of him to justice was a matter of vital importance to
him. In his desire to punish Holman he was moved primarily by
resentment, fierce, bitter resentment that was mainly concerned with
Honor, with the pernicious effect of this mischievous doctrine upon
Honor's warm responsive nature. It seemed to him that the punishment of
Holman, the punishment of all those who had planned and assisted in this
devil's work, was an act of bare retribution, incomplete and wholly
inadequate though the utmost punishment meted out to the individual
could be in consideration of the evil resulting from the insidious
poison inculcated for many years into the receptive minds of a simple
and credulous people--a people labouring under a sense of past
injustice. It had been an easy task for a nation accomplished in
crooked measures, this sowing and untiring cultivation of the seed of
rebellion. For years this work had been going forward in the Colony
unsuspected. Germans who had lived on seemingly friendly relations with
their English neighbours for nearly a lifetime had been steadily
pursuing this system of intrigue, and secretly sowing dissension among
the peoples of the country. Now the trouble had come to a head and the
persons most criminally responsible had for the greater part fled to
Europe.
So far as Matheson knew, Holman might also have gone. He had no
knowledge of his whereabouts. The most likely source from whence to
glean any information concerning him was the man's own office in
Johannesburg, though in all probability he would find the office
deserted if he made the journey. There was, however, the clerk: if he
could discover this youth he might possibly learn something of his
employer's movements. In any case it was worth the attempt.
He decided to start immediately; and found himself wondering how he
should explain this abrupt journey to Brenda. Finally he decided to
explain nothing, and left her to infer that business took him up the
line. She was much occupied in getting ready for her marriage, and
preparing to sail for Europe if necessary with her husband. If he
served in France, she purposed serving also in some capacity behind the
fixing line. It was understood between them that where he went she
would follow whenever practicable. In all things they were to be
comrades: only in the matter of Honor did he keep her outside his life.
He had confided to her the essential facts in regard to his relations
with Honor Krige; he did not deem it expedient after that to go into
further detail. That part of his life was finished--he believed it to
be finished; but a man cannot finish with a part of his life at will:
life has a habit of facing about upon the person who would ignore it.
It was so in Matheson's case. When he had, as he fancied, closed this
chapter which related to the past for ever, the chance breeze of an
accidental encounter ruffled the pages and turned them bade.
On the day before he had arranged to go to Johannesburg he came face to
face with Herman Nel in the fine oak avenue outside the Botanical
Gardens. He was on his way to fulfil an appointment with Brenda; but
when he saw Nel--Nel looking handsome and business-like in the
serviceable uniform of the Union Defence Force--he forgot everything for
the moment in sheer amaze at this unexpected meeting.
It was never clear to him who saw the other first; the recognition
seemed to be simultaneous: the grip of their hands was spontaneous and
eager.
"I never expected to see you here," he said, and wrung Nel's hand
warmly. "What's the farm doing in your absence?"
"Looking after itself," Nel answered with a shrug. "I've come away to
defend it. Leentje imagines she is seeing after things while Cornelius
is engaged in espousing the German cause." His face was grave. "Come
into the Gardens here, and sit down and let us talk."
Matheson accompanied him in silence and sat down with him on a seat near
the entrance. Nel looked hard at him, looked from his face to his
clothes; and Matheson felt that the shrewd eyes were mutely inquiring
why he also was not in uniform.
"I've been in Cape Town only a few days," Nel volunteered. "I'm
following Botha wherever he leads. His lead is straight always, and for
the good of the country. Cornelius can't see that--yet."
"So he has joined the rebellion?" Matheson said.
"Yes. He's with his commando--and Andreas Krige. They have joined
Maritz. It's a bad business. One cannot help feeling sorry for men who
deliberately cut their own throats. There is a sort of predestination
in it."
"And what," Matheson asked quickly, "are they doing at Benfontein?"
Nel shook his head.
"I've not been received at Benfontein since the beginning of August," he
said. "My engagement is terminated--temporarily." He smiled in his old
whimsical way. "The outlook is dark at the moment; but always I look
forward to the dawn of a to-morrow. And now tell me about yourself.
You are remaining outside all this?"
His voice was puzzled; there was a ring, Matheson fancied, of
disapproval behind its surprise. He took up his own defence eagerly.
"No, indeed!" he answered. "Who could remain outside? ... Certainly no
one with any interest beyond his own immediate affairs. I intend to
volunteer for service in Europe."
"Why in Europe?" Nel asked. "There is quite important work to be done
in this country."
"I know it."
Matheson was silent for a while. Presently he said:
"I've a feeling--I can't explain it--against fighting out here. If it
was simply fighting the Germans I wouldn't hesitate, but--the Boers...
No; I can't do it. Simply I can't do it."
Nel scrutinised him closely, a kindly, rather wistful, expression
lighting his grave features.
"That's the very reason," he said at length, "why you ought to remain
out here. It's men who feel as you do about it that we want... Do you
suppose that it is easier for me, who have to take the field against the
brother I love? ... Do you think it is easy for Botha to fight against
men who once fought shoulder to shoulder with him in a just though
unequal cause? Botha took the field before for his people; he takes it
to-day for the good of South Africa, which before everything else he has
at heart. He is fine--a simple and honourable man. I would follow him
to the death."
Nel stretched out a hand and laid it on the other's knee.
"It is in no vindictive spirit that we go to war," he added. "Always it
will be in our minds to spare life where that is possible. It is for
this reason, and because you have no animosity in your heart against the
Dutch, that I say to you with the greatest earnestness, you can do more
good here in helping to quell this ill-advised rebellion than ever you
can do in Europe. Stay and see it out."
For a while they were silent, looking at one another. Then Matheson
said:
"I never looked at it like that before."
"Good!" Nel smiled suddenly. "You begin to recognise that your work
lies here?"
"Yes. I think you have shown me that."
"Then don't delay. Join up at once."
Matheson thought for a moment. He was no longer in any doubt as to his
ultimate decision; but there was one thing that remained to be done
before he joined up. He spoke of it to Nel--told of his intention to
trade down Holman, and of his projected journey on the morrow.
"You won't find Holman in Johannesburg," Nel assured him. "On and off
for the past three months he has been at Benfontein. He was there, I
believe, when I left. But that it seemed to me I had more responsible
work to accomplish, I would have shot him like a jackal. I don't know
what he is after at Benfontein, but I don't trust him. He has been
Krige's evil genius from the beginning. And the women... they simply
worship him. His is the hand of the friend stretched forth to deliver
them from the oppressor. As though a friendly hand was ever advanced by
a stranger nation from entirely disinterested motives! They can't see
that this so strong hand of Germany would make a tool of them."
For a while he remained without speaking, staring abstractedly ahead of
him; then with a sudden movement he looked round sharply, and added:
"They are quite sincere in desiring their country's good. That--the
good of one's country, is right in principle, only they look at it
crookedly. Botha sees straight: always he works unselfishly for his
country's welfare. That is a principle it would be well for all nations
to adopt. Good cannot come to any country through war."
He looked thoughtfully away across the sunlit glory of the gardens, in
which the vivid beauty of subtropical flowers and shrubs flourished
prodigally, and his face was sad.
"I have watched this country grow and expand," he said. "I have seen it
shrivel beneath the devastation of war, and have watched its struggle
until it blossomed forth anew. Now I see it bent and scorched before
the fires of rebellion. That is the worst event that has yet befallen.
But the land survives these things; only man, with his paltry ambitions
and his insignificant span, goes under, paying for the folly of others
with all that he has to give. It's senseless, this business of
fighting--a puerile defiance of the laws of life."
"And yet," Matheson said, "you and I are drawn into it."
Nel smiled swiftly.
"Yes; you and I are drawn in. And if we have to pay the full price we
shall consider the end worth the sacrifice. I recognise sincerity, Mr
Matheson, when I meet it. From that first morning when you visited my
rondavel I knew that we should be friends. I don't know how deeply you
are interested in South Africa, but if you live here long enough the
land will grip you."
"It grips me already," Matheson said. "I am ready to help purchase the
peace of this country without counting the cost."
Nel's eyes brightened with a sudden fire; his voice, quiet and
controlled though it was, vibrated with a ring of triumph.
"Boer and Briton!" he said, and laughed quietly... "Boer and Briton! I
would merge such distinctions in the comprehensive title of South
African. To us--to you and to me--this land belongs by virtue of the
reason that we live by it, and are willing to defend it with our lives.
The land is our inheritance. Imperial claims concern me very little. A
man who has a life's lease of his homestead doesn't take much account of
the landlord. You haven't come yet to feel that way?"
"No. I don't suppose an Englishman ever does." Matheson glanced at his
watch. "I'll have to be going," he said, and laughed a little
consciously. "I've an engagement for three, and am overdue now."
He stood up. Nel rose with him. For a second or so they remained still
in the path steadily regarding one another.
"I'm going to be married," Matheson said abruptly--"in three weeks'
time."
"Yes!" Nel's gaze was searching. "I'm glad to hear it, Mr Matheson,"
he said. "You are more fortunate than I. Is she English?"
"Yes... born out here. I hope some day you'll meet her. But to-morrow
I leave, as you know."
"You are going to Benfontein?"
Nel's tone was discouraging. Matheson answered in the affirmative.
"Well, don't forget," the Dutchman added cautiously, "that your life is
of infinitely greater value to the country than Holman's death could be.
It will be a desperate man you face, remember. Take care of yourself."
"Yes; I'll do that," Matheson assured him, and held out his hand. Nel
grasped it.
"You'll find the rondavel open and provisioned," he said. "You may have
a use for it."