FIRST VIEW OF JOHANNESBURG
A coach halts in front of the coaching office, Johannesburg, a young
man gets down and bustles about to secure his luggage, for here the
coaches change, a new one has to be taken for Pretoria.
Of course this young man is no other than Steve. He arranges for his
luggage to remain at the office until the Pretoria coach leaves, which
will not be until three o’clock in the afternoon; it is only 10 a.m.
now. He thinks the best thing he can do is to have a look round and see
as much as he can of the place while he has the opportunity. He turns
to a young man--whose acquaintance he has made during the journey on
the coach, and who was returning to Pretoria, after spending a short
holiday at the sea-coast--and said,--
‘I say, Harrison, what are you going to do while you wait for the
coach?’
‘I am sure I don’t know. Kill time as best I can, I suppose.’
‘Suppose you act as guide and mentor for me in viewing the place. You
know the place--I don’t--and you might take me to the places most worth
seeing during the few hours we have. Come, be charitable this once, and
help a green un.’
‘All right, old boy, I am always willing to be unselfish, and besides
it will do as well as anything else to kill time and keep me out of
mischief.’
He took Steve all over the principal streets to Hospital Hill, and
gave him a bird’s eye view of all the surrounding places; and a sight
worth seeing, too, it was to a young man that had just left a quiet
provincial town. It was all bustle and vigour wherever he looked.
It seemed as if there was an electric power in the air which forced
everyone to do and act; no lingering or looking backward here, on, on,
seems to be the watchword, or be left behind, to catch up never again.
Even Steve seemed to feel this mysterious influence stealing over him
as he stood gazing on the busy throng; he felt as if he would like to
rush into the midst of them and to push and elbow his way until he
was amongst the first, to stay there. For the moment Steve forgot his
natural inclination to be reserved and quiet; he felt as if he could
push and rush on with the best of them.
But other thoughts soon came crowding on; thoughts of pride and joy
that he at last had the privilege to see the place fully which was so
famous all over the world for its riches.
And this place belonged to his people--to the Afrikanders. Here they
were free, and the equal of other races. Here they had the right to
work out their own destiny. Ah, it was something to be proud of; this
youthful but mighty and growing city; these surrounding and undulating
plains, underneath whose green grass has lain concealed for ages past
untold wealth. Wealth which was laid and preserved by Providence for
the purpose of helping the people of his race to rescue their country
from poverty and financial ruin.
Ah, God has been good to us. He means it well with us. We have a right
to hope that he shall lead us on right to the end, if only we can
remain true to Him as a people.
He spoke something of the latter thought to his companion, who was an
Englishman, and who supposed Steve to be an Englishman too, from his
pure accent, as he had learned to speak English very well, and with
a purer English accent than is generally acquired by Afrikanders,
through being in daily contact in his six years of business life with
Englishmen. His companion replied,--
‘My dear fellow, do you think that this rich mining country will long
remain in the possession of the Boers? If you do you are mightily
mistaken. If the Boers do not themselves soon begin to see that they
are unable to keep all these Uitlanders in order, and ask the British
Government to take the government of the country over, then England
will take it over whether they consent or not?’
Steve felt a pang shoot through his heart.
‘But how can England take their freedom from them? They have once tried
to do so, and the Boers fought for their country and liberty and got it
back. How can England take it now again?’
‘My dear fellow, you must remember that at that time this country was
only a poor, worthless desert and England did not consider it worth
while fighting for?’
‘Take that for granted; but even then, do you think England would be so
unjust to take the country from the Boers again, just because it turns
out to be richer than she thought; that would be disgraceful.’
‘But England has, through her capitalists, thousands of pounds
sterling--and soon it will be millions--at stake in the goldfields of
the country; she is bound to look after the money her subjects have
placed in this country.’
‘Let us put it plainly,’ said Stephen. ‘You have a house, I have a
thousand pounds; I wish to find a safe hiding-place for my money, I
think your house just the place; I hide it there, without your request
or permission. But, on after thoughts, I think my money would be much
safer if I had possession of the house instead of you. I arm myself; I
go to you and say, “You clear out of this, my money is not safe while
you remain in possession.” You refuse to go. I put a bullet through
your brain, carry you out, bury you, and take full possession. My money
is safe now, no more need be said--might is right. That is about how
you place the case.’
Harrison shrugged his shoulders, and replied doggedly,--
‘You do not understand these national affairs; it is otherwise than
with individual personal affairs,’
‘I hope I may never understand it, if it means dishonour,’ replied
Steve.
After this they wended their way to view a mine or two, from the
outside, as they felt they could not spare the time then to go inside
a mine. There was very little to be seen from the outside--a large
shed-like building, hauling gear over a seemingly bottomless pit,
surrounded by heaps of quartz and débris. Steve could hardly realise
that this apparently hard, common stone, called quartz, really
represented the great wealth of the mines. He had hoped to see, at
least, some visible gold, but he was disappointed. It was just hard,
flint-like stone, without a particle of yellow metal visible; and yet
he was assured the gold was extracted in paying quantities from this
stone.
After this they returned to town, to seek some refreshments, and came
to a large building in course of erection.
Steve saw a couple of children playing close by, under the scaffolding;
he took no particular note of them, but stood admiring the architecture
of the building.
Suddenly he heard a cry of horror behind him; he saw a gentleman and
lady standing with upheld hands, with a horror-struck and transfixed
expression, looking at the children near to him; he turned, and what he
saw sent a thrill of horror through him. He loved children, and would
rather bear pain himself a thousand times than see a child in pain,
wherefore he felt the danger of a child all the more. What he saw was
this: A little girl was standing under the scaffolding, innocently
looking at a beautiful doll another girl was carrying in the street,
without seeing the terrible danger that was threatening her. Above her
a tremendously heavy beam, which was securely tied at one end, was
slipping down on the opposite side, a workman was holding the dangerous
end. A rope was tied round it, and he was holding with all his might to
prevent its falling; but the weight was too much for him. He dared not
take breath to call out for help, the waste of the least breath, or the
least bit of strength taken from the effort of holding the beam, would
precipitate its fall. But it was slipping--slipping. ‘My God,’ thought
he, ‘will no one see and take away that child.’ Someone saw. The cry of
the mother of the child and the look of horror on her face had drawn
Steve’s attention to the danger. He saw all we have described in the
flash of an eye. Not a moment did he hesitate or think what he should
do. He never lost his presence of mind in danger. Like the arrow from a
bow, he flew right under the threatening beam, the fall of which meant
death to any living creature that might be under it. He seized the
child by the dress, and came out on the opposite side of the beam. He
felt a shock against his shoulder, as if some heavy object struck him.
He felt himself whirled round several times by the shock, and thrown
against the wall. The thunder, as of a falling mountain, sounded in
his ears. But he held the child firmly in his arms; she was safe. The
beam had fallen, if Steve had been a fraction of a second later, or the
beam had fallen a fraction of a second sooner, both he and the child
would have been crushed. As it was, it just grazed his shoulder. He was
unhurt save for a severe bruise on the shoulder.
Of course, a crowd collected in a moment. The mother and father had
rushed over from the opposite side of the street where they had been
standing. The mother was hugging and kissing the child; the father
was wringing the hand of Steve, with protestations of gratitude and
service. A re-action came for the mother; she felt faint and could
scarcely speak her gratitude to Steve. So her husband hurried her to a
carriage with the child, and going to Steve said,--
‘My friend, you have done a brave action; you have saved my child,
on whose life the happiness of my wife and myself depends. I am your
friend and debtor for life; here is my card. Let me see you this
afternoon, and if there is anything I can do for you, I trust you will
let me know it. I would not leave you now, but I must take my wife
home.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ replied Steve; he was thankful to be prevented from
saying more by being pushed and pulled away by the crowd.
He hurried to find his companion (who had seen and heard all), and said
to him, ‘Come on, Harrison; we have no time to lose, if we do not wish
to lose our coach!’
‘What, are you going away without accepting the invitation of your
new-found debtor? I would not, if I were you. He might do something
good for you. Let me see his card.’
On seeing the name on the card, he whistled in surprise.
‘I say, young fellow, your fortune is made; I wish I were you. Why,
man, the name on this card represents the most successful speculator
and company promoter on the Rand. Why, a tip from him is worth
thousands. Of course you will change your mind and let the coach take
care of itself, and go and see him as he requested.’
‘Of course not; I do not like this fuss and bother about nothing. I do
not wish to be paid for doing a humane action. Come on, let us be off,’
And in spite of his companion’s repeated advice not to lose such an
opportunity to make his way in the world, Steve boarded the coach and
left for Pretoria.
Quixotic? Yes, I suppose so. Unworthy the nineteenth century? No! I
think the nineteenth century is unworthy of such Quixotism. Such an act
is only worthy of the time of knight errantry, when men acted only for
the honour of the thing, and every deed was not valued in £ s. d. But
then Steve lived in that time in a sense--in a shell; his shell was
composed of books, in which such creeds are still taught and tolerated,
even though they are derided and laughed down in actual life--that is,
in ultra-civilised life, which really means ‘live for self, and self
only; nothing for nothing, and everything for _gold_.’ But Steve was
unacquainted with this creed as yet; let us hope that he will never
become the slave of such a creed.