The electrified man rushed out into the storm, but he scarcely felt
it in his body; the effect on his mind overpowered hail-stones. The
lightning seemed to light up the past; the mighty explosions of thunder
seemed cannon strokes knocking down a wall, and letting in his whole
life.
Six hours the storm raged, and, before it ended, he had recovered nearly
his whole past, except his voyage with Captain Dodd--that, indeed, he
never recovered--and the things that happened to him in the hospital
before he met Phoebe Falcon and her brother: and as soon as he had
recovered his lost memory, his body began to shiver at the hail and
rain. He tried to find his way home, but missed it; not so much,
however, but that he recovered it as soon as it began to clear, and
just as they were coming out to look for him, he appeared before them,
dripping, shivering, very pale and worn, with the handkerchief still
about his head.
At sight of him, Dick slipped back to his sister, and said, rather
roughly, “There now, you may leave off crying: he is come home; and
to-morrow I take him to Cape Town.”
Christopher crept in, a dismal, sinister figure.
“Oh, sir,” said Phoebe, “was this a day for a Christian to be out in?
How could you go and frighten us so?”
“Forgive me, madam,” said Christopher humbly; “I was not myself.”
“The best thing you can do now is to go to bed, and let us send you up
something warm.”
“You are very good,” said Christopher, and retired with the air of one
too full of great amazing thoughts to gossip.
He slept thirty hours at a stretch, and then, awaking in the dead of
night, he saw the past even more clear and vivid; he lighted his candle
and began to grope in the Cape Gazette. As to dates, he now remembered
when he had sailed from England, and also from Madeira. Following up
this clew, he found in the Gazette a notice that H. M. ship Amphitrite
had been spoken off the Cape, and had reported the melancholy loss of a
promising physician and man of science, Dr. Staines.
The account said every exertion had been made to save him, but in vain.
Staines ground his teeth with rage at this. “Every exertion! the
false-hearted curs. They left me to drown, without one manly effort to
save me. Curse them, and curse all the world.”
Pursuing his researches rapidly, he found a much longer account of a
raft picked up by Captain Dodd, with a white man on it and a dead body,
the white man having on him a considerable sum in money and jewels.
Then a new anxiety chilled him. There was not a word to identify him
with Dr. Staines. The idea had never occurred to the editor of the Cape
Gazette. Still less would it occur to any one in England. At this moment
his wife must be mourning for him. “Poor--poor Rosa!”
But perhaps the fatal news might not have reached her.
That hope was dashed away as soon as found. Why, these were all OLD
NEWSPAPERS. That gentlemanly man who had lent them to him had said so.
Old! yet they completed the year 1867.
He now tore through them for the dates alone, and soon found they went
to 1868. Yet they were old papers. He had sailed in May, 1867.
“My God!” he cried, in agony, “I HAVE LOST A YEAR.”
This thought crushed him. By and by he began to carry this awful idea
into details. “My Rosa has worn mourning for me, and put it off again. I
am dead to her, and to all the world.”
He wept long and bitterly.
Those tears cleared his brain still more. For all that, he was not yet
himself; at least, I doubt it; his insanity, driven from the intellect,
fastened one lingering claw into his moral nature, and hung on by it.
His soul filled with bitterness and a desire to be revenged on mankind
for their injustice, and this thought possessed him more than reason.
He joined the family at breakfast; and never a word all the time. But
when he got up to go, he said, in a strange, dogged way, as if it went
against the grain, “God bless the house that succors the afflicted.”
Then he went out to brood alone.
“Dick,” said Phoebe, “there's a change. I'll never part with him: and
look, there's Collie following him, that never could abide him.”
“Part with him?” said Reginald. “Of course not. He is a gentleman, and
they are not so common in Africa.”
Dick, who hated Falcon, ignored this speech entirely, and said, “Well,
Pheeb, you and Collie are wiser than I am. Take your own way, and don't
blame me if anything happens.”
Soon Christopher paid the penalty of returning reason. He suffered all
the poignant agony a great heart can endure.
So this was his reward for his great act of self-denial in leaving his
beloved wife. He had lost his patient; he had lost the income from that
patient; his wife was worse off than before, and had doubtless suffered
the anguish of a loving heart bereaved. His mind, which now seemed more
vigorous than ever, after its long rest, placed her before his very
eyes, pale, and worn with grief, in her widow's cap.
At the picture, he cried like the rain. He could give her joy, by
writing; but he could not prevent her from suffering a whole year of
misery.
Turning this over in connection with their poverty, his evil genius
whispered, “By this time she has received the six thousand pounds for
your death. SHE would never think of that; but her father has: and there
is her comfort assured, in spite of the caitiffs who left her husband to
drown like a dog.
“I know my Rosa,” he thought. “She has swooned--ah, my poor darling--she
has raved--she has wept,” he wept himself at the thought--“she has
mourned every indiscreet act, as if it was a crime. But she HAS done
all this. Her good and loving but shallow nature is now at rest from the
agonies of bereavement, and nought remains but sad and tender regrets.
She can better endure that than poverty: cursed poverty, which has
brought her and me to this, and is the only real evil in the world, but
bodily pain.”
Then came a struggle, that lasted a whole week, and knitted his brows,
and took the color from his cheek; but it ended in the triumph of love
and hate, over conscience and common sense. His Rosa should not be poor;
and he would cheat some of those contemptible creatures called men, who
had done him nothing but injustice, and at last had sacrificed his life
like a rat's.
When the struggle was over, and the fatal resolution taken, then he
became calmer, less solitary, and more sociable.
Phoebe, who was secretly watching him with a woman's eye, observed this
change in him, and, with benevolent intentions, invited him one day to
ride round the farm with her. He consented readily. She showed him the
fields devoted to maize and wheat, and then the sheepfolds. Tim's sheep
were apparently deserted; but he was discovered swinging head downwards
from the branch of a camel-thorn, and seeing him, it did strike one that
if he had had a tail he would have been swinging by that. Phoebe called
to him: he never answered, but set off running to her, and landed
himself under her nose in a wheel somersault.
“I hope you are watching them, Tim,” said his mistress.
“Iss, missy, always washing 'em.”
“Why, there's one straying towards the wood now.”
“He not go far,” said Tim coolly. The young monkey stole off a little
way, then fell flat, and uttered the cry of a jackal, with startling
precision. Back went the sheep to his comrades post haste, and Tim
effected a somersault and a chuckle.
“You are a clever boy,” said Phoebe. “So that is how you manage them.”
“Dat one way, missy,” said Tim, not caring to reveal all his resources
at once.
Then Phoebe rode on, and showed Christopher the ostrich pan. It was
a large basin, a form the soil often takes in these parts; and in it
strutted several full-grown ostriches and their young, bred on the
premises. There was a little dam of water, and plenty of food about.
They were herded by a Kafir infant of about six, black, glossy, fat, and
clean, being in the water six times a day.
Sometimes one of the older birds would show an inclination to stray out
of the pan. Then the infant rolled after her, and tapped her ankles with
a wand. She instantly came back, but without any loss of dignity, for
she strutted with her nose in the air, affecting completely to ignore
the inferior little animal, that was nevertheless controlling her
movements. “There's a farce,” said Phoebe. “But you would not believe
the money they cost me, nor the money they bring me in. Grain will not
sell here for a quarter its value: and we can't afford to send it to
Cape Town, twenty days and back; but finery, that sells everywhere. I
gather sixty pounds the year off those poor fowls' backs--clear profit.”
She showed him the granary, and told him there wasn't such another in
Africa. This farm had belonged to one of the old Dutch settlers, and
that breed had been going down this many a year. “You see, sir, Dick
and I being English, and not downright in want of money, we can't bring
ourselves to sell grain to the middlemen for nothing, so we store it,
hoping for better times, that maybe will never come. Now I'll show you
how the dam is made.”
They inspected the dam all round. “This is our best friend of all,” said
she. “Without this the sun would turn us all to tinder,--crops, flowers,
beasts, and folk.”
“Oh, indeed,” said Staines. “Then it is a pity you have not built it
more scientifically. I must have a look at this.”
“Ay do, sir, and advise us if you see anything wrong. But hark! it is
milking time. Come and see that.” So she led the way to some sheds, and
there they found several cows being milked, each by a little calf and a
little Hottentot at the same time, and both fighting and jostling each
other for the udder. Now and then a young cow, unused to incongruous
twins, would kick impatiently at both animals and scatter them.
“That is their way,” said Phoebe: “they have got it into their silly
Hottentot heads as kye won't yield their milk if the calf is taken away;
and it is no use arguing with 'em; they will have their own way; but
they are very trusty and honest, poor things. We soon found that out.
When we came here first it was in a hired wagon, and Hottentot drivers:
so when we came to settle I made ready for a bit of a wrangle. But my
maid Sophy, that is nurse now, and a great despiser of heathens, she
says, 'Don't you trouble; them nasty ignorant blacks never charges more
than their due.' 'I forgive 'em,' says I; 'I wish all white folk was as
nice.' However, I did give them a trifle over, for luck: and then they
got together and chattered something near the door, hand in hand. 'La,
Sophy,' says I, 'what is up now?' Says she, 'They are blessing of us.
Things is come to a pretty pass, for ignorant Muslinmen heathen to be
blessing Christian folk.' 'Well,' says I, 'it won't hurt us any.' 'I
don't know,' says she. 'I don't want the devil prayed over me.' So she
cocked that long nose of hers and followed it in a doors.”
By this time they were near the house, and Phoebe was obliged to come to
her postscript, for the sake of which, believe me, she had uttered
every syllable of this varied chat. “Well, sir,” said she, affecting to
proceed without any considerable change of topic, “and how do you find
yourself? Have you discovered the past?”
“I have, madam. I remember every leading incident of my life.”
“And has it made you happier?” said Phoebe softly.
“No,” said Christopher gravely. “Memory has brought me misery.”
“I feared as much; for you have lost your fine color, and your eyes are
hollow, and lines on your poor brow that were not there before. Are you
not sorry you have discovered the past?”
“No, Mrs. Falcon. Give me the sovereign gift of reason, with all the
torture it can inflict. I thank God for returning memory, even with the
misery it brings.”
Phoebe was silent a long time: then she said in a low, gentle voice,
and with the indirectness of a truly feminine nature, “I have plenty of
writing-paper in the house; and the post goes south to-morrow, such as
'tis.”
Christopher struggled with his misery, and trembled.
He was silent a long time. Then he said, “No. It is her interest that I
should be dead.”
“Well, but, sir--take a thought.”
“Not a word more, I implore you. I am the most miserable man that ever
breathed.” As he spoke, two bitter tears forced their way.
Phoebe cast a look of pity on him, and said no more; but she shook her
head. Her plain common sense revolted.
However, it did not follow he would be in the same mind next week: so
she was in excellent spirits at her protege's recovery, and very proud
of her cure, and celebrated the event with a roaring supper, including
an English ham, and a bottle of port wine; and, ten to one, that was
English too.
Dick Dale looked a little incredulous, but he did not spare the ham any
the more for that.
After supper, in a pause of conversation, Staines turned to Dick, and
said, rather abruptly, “Suppose that dam of yours were to burst and
empty its contents, would it not be a great misfortune to you?”
“Misfortune, sir! Don't talk of it. Why, it would ruin us, beast and
body.”
“Well, it will burst, if it is not looked to.”
“Dale's Kloof dam burst! the biggest and strongest for a hundred miles
round.”
“You deceive yourself. It is not scientifically built, to begin, and
there is a cause at work that will infallibly burst it, if not looked to
in time.”
“And what is that, sir?”
“The dam is full of crabs.”
“So 'tis; but what of them?”
“I detected two of them that had perforated the dyke from the wet side
to the dry, and water was trickling through the channel they had made.
Now, for me to catch two that had come right through, there must be a
great many at work honeycombing your dyke; those channels, once made,
will be enlarged by the permeating water, and a mere cupful of water
forced into a dyke by the great pressure of a heavy column has an
expansive power quite out of proportion to the quantity forced in.
Colossal dykes have been burst in this way with disastrous effects.
Indeed, it is only a question of time, and I would not guarantee your
dyke twelve hours. It is full, too, with the heavy rains.”
“Here's a go!” said Dick, turning pale. “Well, if it is to burst, it
must.”
“Why so? You can make it safe in a few hours. You have got a clumsy
contrivance for letting off the excess of water: let us go and relieve
the dam at once of two feet of water. That will make it safe for a day
or two, and to-morrow we will puddle it afresh, and demolish those busy
excavators.”
He spoke with such authority and earnestness, that they all got up from
table; a horn was blown that soon brought the Hottentots, and they all
proceeded to the dam. With infinite difficulty they opened the waste
sluice, lowered the water two feet, and so drenched the arid soil that
in forty-eight hours flowers unknown sprang up.
Next morning, under the doctor's orders, all the black men and boys were
diving with lumps of stiff clay and puddling the endangered wall with a
thick wall of it. This took all the people the whole day.
Next day the clay wall was carried two feet higher, and then the doctor
made them work on the other side and buttress the dyke with supports so
enormous as seemed extravagant to Dick and Phoebe; but, after all, it
was as well to be on the safe side, they thought: and soon they were
sure of it, for the whole work was hardly finished when the news came in
that the dyke of a neighboring Boer, ten miles off, had exploded like a
cannon, and emptied itself in five minutes, drowning the farm-yard and
floating the furniture, but leaving them all to perish of drought; and
indeed the Boer's cart came every day, with empty barrels, for some
time, to beg water of the Dales. Ucatella pondered all this, and said
her doctor child was wise.
This brief excitement over, Staines went back to his own gloomy
thoughts, and they scarcely saw him, except at supper-time.
One evening he surprised them all by asking if they would add to all
their kindness by lending him a horse, and a spade, and a few pounds to
go to the diamond fields.
Dick Dale looked at his sister. She said, “We had rather lend them you
to go home with, sir, if you must leave us; but, dear heart, I was half
in hopes--Dick and I were talking it over only yesterday--that you would
go partners like with us; ever since you saved the dam.”
“I have too little to offer for that, Mrs. Falcon; and, besides, I am
driven into a corner. I must make money quickly, or not at all: the
diamonds are only three hundred miles off: for heaven's sake, let me try
my luck.”
They tried to dissuade him, and told him not one in fifty did any good
at it.
“Ay, but I shall,” said he. “Great bad luck is followed by great good
luck, and I feel my turn is come. Not that I rely on luck. An accident
directed my attention to the diamond a few years ago, and I read a
number of prime works upon the subject that told me of things not
known to the miners. It is clear, from the Cape journals, that they
are looking for diamonds in the river only. Now, I am sure that is a
mistake. Diamonds, like gold, have their matrix, and it is comparatively
few gems that get washed into the river. I am confident that I shall
find the volcanic matrix, and perhaps make my fortune in a week or two.”
When the dialogue took this turn, Reginald Falcon's cheek began to
flush, and his eyes to glitter.
Christopher continued: “You who have befriended me so will not turn
back, I am sure, when I have such a chance before me; and as for the
small sum of money I shall require, I will repay you some day, even
if”--
“La, sir, don't talk so. If you put it that way, why, the best horse we
have, and fifty pounds in good English gold, they are at your service
to-morrow.”
“And pick and spade to boot,” said Dick, “and a double rifle, for there
are lions, and Lord knows what, between this and the Vaal river.”
“God bless you both!” said Christopher. “I will start to-morrow.”
“And I'll go with you,” said Reginald Falcon.