"So you like the study of French?" said Charlie Considine, as he sat one
morning beside Bertha Marais in the porch of her father's dwelling.
"Yes, very much," answered the girl. She said no more, but she thought,
"Especially when I am taught it by such a kind, painstaking teacher as
you."
"And you like to live in the wild karroo?" asked the youth.
"Of course I do," was the reply, with a look of surprise.
"Of course. It was a stupid question, Bertha; I did not think at the
moment that it is _home_ to you, and that you have known no other since
you were a little child. But to my mind it would be a dull sort of life
to live here always."
"Do you find it so dull?" asked Bertha, with a sad look.
"No, not in the least," replied the youth, quickly. "How _could_ I,
living as I do with such pleasant people, like one of their own kith and
kin, hunting with the sons and teaching the daughters--to say nothing of
scolding them and playing chess, and singing and riding. Oh no! I'm
anything but dull, but I was talking _generally_ of life in the karroo.
If I lived alone, for instance, like poor Horley, or with a disagreeable
family like that of Jan Smit--by the way, that reminds me that we have
heard news of the three runaways, Ruyter, Jemalee, and Booby."
"Oh! I'm so glad," cried Bertha, her fair face brightening up with
pleasure, "for I am very fond of Ruyter. He was so kind to me that time
he found me lying near Smit's house, when my pony ran away and threw me,
and I felt so miserable when I heard that his master was cruel and often
beat him with a sjambok. Often and often since he ran away--and it must
be nearly a year now--I have prayed God that he might come back, and
that Jan Smit might become good to him--What have you heard?"
Considine's face wore a troubled look. "I fear," he said, "the news
will distress you, for what I heard was that the three men, driven to
desperation by the harsh treatment received from their master, have
joined one of the fiercest of these gangs of robbers, called the
Bergenaars--the gang led, I believe, by Dragoener. It was Lucas Van
Dyk, the hunter, who told me, and he is said to be generally correct in
his statements."
Bertha's nether lip quivered, and she hid her face in her hands for a
few moments in silence.
"Oh! I'm so sorry--so sorry," she said at length, looking up. "He was
so gentle, so kind. I can't imagine Ruyter becoming one of those
dreadful Bergenaars, about whose ferocious cruelty we hear so much--his
nature was so different. I can't believe it."
"I fear," rejoined Considine gently, "that it is true. You know it is
said that oppression will drive even a wise man mad, and a man will take
to anything when he is mad."
"It could not drive a Christian to such a life," returned the girl
sadly. "Oh! I _wish_ he had become a Christian when Stephen Orpin
spoke to him, but he wouldn't."
"When did Orpin speak to him, and what did he say?" asked Considine,
whose own ideas as to Christianity were by no means fixed or clear.
"It was just after that time," rejoined Bertha, "when Jan Smit had had
him tied to a cart-wheel, and flogged so terribly that he could not walk
for some days. Orpin happened to arrive at the time with his waggon--
you know he has taken to going about as a trader,--and he spoke a great
deal to Ruyter about his soul, and about Jesus coming to save men from
sin, and enabling them to forgive their enemies; but when Ruyter heard
about forgiving his enemies he wouldn't listen any more. Pointing to
his wounds, he said, `Do you think I can forgive Jan Smit?'"
"I don't wonder," said Considine; "it is too much to expect a black
fellow smarting under the sjambok to forgive the man who applies it--
especially when it is applied unjustly, and with savage cruelty."
Bertha was not gifted with an argumentative spirit. She looked
anxiously in the face of her companion, and murmured some broken
sentences about the Lord's Prayer and the Golden Rule, and wound up by
saying hesitatingly, "How can we ask forgiveness if we do not forgive?"
"You are right, Bertha," was Considine's rejoinder, uttered gravely;
"but, truly, a man must be more than a man to act on such principles.
Think, now of the state of things at the present time with regard to the
settlers. The `rust,' as they call that strange disease which has
totally ruined the first year's crop of wheat, has thrown the most of
them into difficulties, and in the midst of this almost overwhelming
calamity down came the Kafirs on the Albany District, and the
Bergenaars, of whom we have just been speaking, not, like men, to fight
openly--that were endurable,--but like sly thieves in the dead of night,
to carry off sheep and cattle from many of the farms--in some cases even
killing the herdsmen. Now, what think you must be the feelings of the
settlers towards these Kafirs and runaway robbers?--can _they_ forgive?"
Bertha didn't know. She thought their feelings must be very harsh.
Diverging from the question, however, she returned to the first regret--
namely, that her friend Ruyter had joined the Bergenaars.
"Hallo! Considine, hi! where are you?" came the sonorous voice of
Conrad Marais in the distance, interrupting the conversation. Next
moment the hearty countenance of the farmer followed his voice round the
corner of the house.
"Come, get your gun, my boy!" he cried in some excitement. "These
villains have been down last night and carried off two spans of my best
oxen, besides killing and devouring several sheep."
Considine started up at once.
"We shall be off in half an hour," continued the farmer; "Hans is away
gathering one or two neighbours, and the people are almost ready."
"Do you accompany them?" asked Considine.
"Of course I do. Come along."
The youth required no urging. In a few minutes he was armed and
mounted, galloping in company with a score of horsemen--black, brown,
and white--towards the cattle-kraals. Here was already assembled by
Hans a troop of mounted men, among whom were Jan Smit and his three
sons, David, Jacob, and Hendrik, also the hunter Van Dyk. After a brief
consultation, in which Van Dyk took a prominent part, they rode off at a
smart gallop.
We change the scene now to a large and dark cavern up among the wild
heights of the Winterberg mountains.
It was evening, but the sun had still a considerable distance to descend
before finding its bed on the western horizon. A faint gleam of day
entered the cave, which was further illuminated by three fires, over
which a band of savage-looking dark-skinned men were roasting chops and
marrow-bones. Abdul Jemalee the Malay slave and Booby the Bushman were
there, assisting at the feast. At the inner end of the cave, seated
beside two men, was Ruyter the Hottentot. He was a good deal changed
from the rough but careless and jolly fellow whom we first introduced to
the reader. There was a stern severity on his countenance, coupled with
a touch of sadness when in repose, but when called into action, or even
when conversing, the softer feeling vanished, and nothing remained but
the lines indicative of a stern settled purpose. Most of the robbers
around him had like himself fled from harsh masters, and become hardened
in a career of crime. The expression of almost every countenance was
vindictive, sensual, coarse. Ruyter's was not so. Unyielding sternness
alone marked his features, which, we have elsewhere remarked, were
unusually good for a Hottentot. Being a man of superior power he had
become the leader of this robber-band. It was only one of many that
existed at that time among the almost inaccessible heights of the
mountain-ranges bordering on the colony. His companions recognised the
difference between themselves and their captain, and did not love him
for it, though they feared him. They also felt that he was irrevocably
one of themselves, having imbrued his hands in white man's blood more
than once, and already made his name terrible on that part of the
frontier.
"They should be here by this time," said Ruyter, in Dutch, to one of the
men at his side. "Why did you send them off before I returned?"
He said this with a look of annoyance. The man replied that he had
acted according to the best of his judgment and had been particular in
impressing the leader of the party that he was not to touch the flocks
of old Marais, but to devote himself entirely to those of Jan Smit.
To this Ruyter observed with a growl that it was not likely they would
attend to such orders if Marais' herds chanced to be handy, but the
robber to whom he spoke only replied with a sly smile, showing that he
was of the same opinion.
Just then a man rushed into the cave announcing the fact that their
comrades were returning with plenty cattle and sheep, but that they were
pursued.
Instantly the chops and marrow-bones were flung aside, and the robbers,
hastily arming, mounted their horses and descended to the rescue.
The band of which Ruyter had become leader had existed some time before
he joined. It was a detachment from a larger band who acknowledged as
their chief a desperado named Dragoener. This Bushman had been in the
service of Diederik Muller, but, on being severely flogged by a
hot-tempered kinsman of his master, had fled to the mountains, vowing
vengeance against all white men. It is thus that one white scoundrel
can sometimes not only turn a whole tribe of savages into bitter foes of
the white men in general, but can bring discredit on his fellows in the
eyes of Christian people at a distance, who have not the means of
knowing the true state of the case. Be this as it may, however,
Dragoener with his banditti soon took ample revenge on the colonists for
the sjamboking he had received.
Not long previous to the period of which we write he had been reinforced
by Ruyter, Jemalee, Booby, and several other runaway slaves, besides
some "wild Bushmen,"--men who had never been in service, and were so
called to distinguish them from men who had been caught, like our friend
Booby, and "tamed." A few deserters from the Cape Corps, who possessed
fire-arms, had also joined him.
Thus reinforced, Dragoener and his lieutenant had become bolder than
ever in their depredations. One of his bands had recently carried off a
large number of cattle and horses from the Tarka boers, who had called
out a commando and gone in pursuit. Driven into a forest ravine, and
finding it impossible to retain possession of their booty, the robbers
had cut the throats of all the animals, and, scattering into the jungle,
made their escape. Another band had frequently annoyed the Scotsmen at
Baviaans River.
When therefore the band under Ruyter heard of the approach of their
comrades with booty, and of the pursuit by colonists, they went to the
rescue, somewhat emboldened by recent successes. On meeting their
comrades, who were driving the cattle and horses before them in frantic
haste, they were told that the pursuers were in strong force, and
numbered among them several of the boldest men and best shots on the
frontier.
There was no time for holding a council of war. Ruyter at once divided
his men into two bands. With the larger, well armed, and having two or
three deserters with muskets, he crept into the woods to lay an ambush
for the enemy. The other band was ordered to continue driving the
cattle with utmost speed, and, in the event of being overtaken, to cut
the animals' throats and each man look out for himself.
If Ruyter's men had been as bold and cool as himself they might have
checked the pursuit, but when the hunter Van Dyk, who knew their ways,
advanced in front of his comrades by a path known to himself, discovered
their ambush and sent a bullet through the head of one of their number,
they awaited no further orders but rose _en masse_, fled through the
jungle, and made for the mountains.
Van Dyk, reloading in hot haste, followed swiftly, but he had not taken
three steps when Charlie Considine was at his heels. He had dismounted
and followed Van Dyk. The other pursuers made a detour on horseback to
cut off the robbers as they passed over some open ground in advance. In
attempting this they came on a spot where the ground was strewn with the
dead or dying cattle. With a yell of rage they pushed on, but utterly
failed, for the bandits had headed in another direction and gained the
cliffs, where pursuit on horseback was impossible. Knowing that it
would have been equally fruitless to continue the chase on foot, they
returned to the point where Van Dyk and Considine had entered the
jungle, fully expecting to find them there, as it would have been
madness, they thought, for two unsupported men to follow up the flying
band. To their surprise they found no one there.
"We must follow their spoor, boys," said Conrad Marais, with an anxious
look; "they cannot be far off, but we must not leave them unsupported in
the jungle with such a lot of black villains flying about."
Action was at once taken. The most experienced men dismounted and
traced the spoor, with the unerring certainty of bloodhounds. But they
shouted and searched in vain till night compelled them to desist.
Meanwhile Van Dyk and Considine had been captured by the Bergenaars.
When Charlie overtook the hunter, as already described, his ardent
spirit and strong supple limbs enabled him to outrun his more massive
though not less enthusiastic companion. A short run soon convinced the
hunter that there was no chance of a clothed white man overtaking a more
than half-naked native in a thorny jungle. Indeed, he was already well
convinced by former experience of this fact, and had intended to engage
in pursuit for only a short time, in order if possible to obtain a
flying shot at one or two of the robbers, but his young comrade's
resolute continuance of the chase forced him to hold on longer than he
desired.
"Stop! stop, young fellow," he shouted with stentorian voice; "stop, I
say! You'll only waste your breath for no good," he shouted.
But Considine heard him not. He had caught sight of one of the bandits
who seemed to be losing strength, and, being himself sound in wind and
limb, he recklessly determined to push on.
"I'll leave you to your fate," roared Van Dyk, "if you don't stop."
He might as well have roared to a mad buffalo. Considine heeded or
heard not.
"It won't do," growled the hunter in a stern soliloquy as he stopped a
moment to tighten his belt. "Well, well, I little thought, Van Dyk,
that you'd be brought to such a miserable fix as this, in such a stupid
way too. But he mustn't be left to the Bushmen's tender mercies."
The hunter's swart countenance grew darker as he spoke, for he well knew
the extremity of danger into which the reckless youth was compelling him
to run, but he did not hesitate. Instead, however, of following in the
steps of one who was fleeter of foot than himself, he made a detour to
the right. In an hour he reached a cliff under which, he knew, from the
form of the valley up which the pursuit had been conducted, his young
companion must needs pass. The route he had taken was a short cut. He
had headed Considine and saw him, a few minutes later, in the gorge
below, in full pursuit of the robber.
"H'm!" grunted Van Dyk, as he sat down on a rock and examined the
priming of his great elephant-gun, "I thought as much! The black
scoundrel is just playing with him--decoying the young idiot on till he
gets him surrounded by his comrades; but I'll spoil his game, though
it's like to be the last shot I'll ever fire."
A low quiet sigh escaped from the hunter as he watched the two men and
awaited the proper moment.
He was evidently right in his conjecture, for, as they drew near the
cliff, the black man looked over his shoulder once or twice and
slackened his pace. The next moment he gave a shout which proved to be
a signal, for two of the robbers sprang out from the bushes and seized
Considine, almost before he had seen them. Vigorously he struggled, and
would perhaps have thrown off both, had not the man he had been chasing
turned and run to aid the others.
Quickly but steadily Van Dyk raised his gun and covered this man. Next
moment the muzzle was struck aside, the ball flew harmlessly into the
jungle, and the hunter was pinioned, overthrown, and rendered helpless
by four of the robbers, who had been watching his motions all the time.
Van Dyk was not taken much by surprise. He knew that such danger was
probable, and had done his best to avoid it. With that self-command
which a life of constant danger in the woods had taught him, he bowed to
the inevitable, and quietly submitted to be bound and led away.
Mean while Ruyter, for it was he who had been chased, came up in time to
assist in securing his victim.
"What, Ruyter, is it you?" exclaimed Considine in amazement.
When the robber-chief became aware who he had captured, an expression of
deep annoyance or regret crossed his face, but it quickly passed into
one of stern almost sulky determination, as he ordered the two men, in
Dutch, to make the bonds secure. He deigned no reply to the prisoner's
question. He did not even appear to recognise him, but strode on in
front, while the two robbers drove the youth up into the rocky
fastnesses of the mountains.
That night our hero found himself seated in the deepest recesses of a
cavern by the side of his comrade Van Dyk. The arms of both were firmly
bound behind their backs, but their legs were free, their captors
knowing well that a scramble among such giddy and rugged heights without
the use of the hands was impossible. In the centre of the cavern sat
the robbers round a small fire on which some of them were cooking a few
scraps of meat.
"A pretty mess you've led yourself and me into, young fellow!" said the
hunter sternly.
"Indeed I have," replied Considine, with a very penitent air, "and I
would give or do anything to undo the mischief."
"Ja--always the same with wild-caps like you," returned the
other,--"ready to give anything when you've got nothing, and to do
anything when you're helpless. How much easier it would have been to
have given a little heed and shown a little common sense when you had
the chance!"
There was a touch of bitterness, almost fierceness, in the hunter's
tone, which, knowing the man's kindly nature, Considine could not quite
understand.
"Do you know what them reptiles there are saying?" continued Van Dyk
after a brief pause.
"No, their language is mere gibberish to me."
"They're discussin' the best method of puttin' us out of existence,"
said the hunter, with a grim smile. "Some of 'em want to cut our
throats at once and have done with it; some would like to torture us
first; others are in favour of hangin', but all agree that we must be
killed to prevent our tellin' the whereabouts of their hiding-place up
here,--all except one, the one you gave chase to this afternoon. He
advises 'em to let us go, but he don't seem very earnest about it."
"I think I know the reason of his favouring us," said Considine, with a
look of hope.
"Indeed?"
"Yes; he once journeyed with me from Capetown to the karroo, and
probably he feels a touch of regard for his old travelling companion."
"H'm! I wouldn't give much for his regard," growled Van Dyk. "The reed
is slender, but it's the only one we have to lean on now. However,
we've got a reprieve, for I heard 'em say just now that they'll delay
executing us till to-morrow, after reaching one of their other and safer
retreats in the mountains."
The prisoners were put into a smaller cave, close to the large one, that
night. Their bonds were made more secure, and, as an additional
precaution, their legs were tied. Two men were also appointed to guard
the entrance of their prison.
About midnight the camp was perfectly still, and the only sounds that
broke the silence were the tinkling of a neighbouring rill and the
footfall of the sentinels. Van Dyk and Considine were lying uneasily on
the bare ground, and thinking of the tragic fate that awaited them on
the morrow, when they observed the dim figure of a man approaching from
the innermost end of the cavern with a drawn knife in his right hand.
Both started up and leant on their elbows; more than this they could not
do. They felt some alarm, it is true, but both came to the same
conclusion--that it is foolish to cry out before you are hurt.
The figure bent over Van Dyk, and whispered in his ear. Next moment the
hunter stood on his feet with his limbs free.
"You were right, young sir," he said to Considine as he stooped over him
and cut his bonds; "there _is_ a touch of humanity in the rascally
Hottentot after all. Come; he bids us follow him. Knows a secret
passage out o' the cave, no doubt."
The black-bearded huntsman turned as he spoke, and followed the dim
figure, which melted into the depths of the cavern as if it had been a
spirit. A few minutes' gliding through darkness tangible, and they
found themselves in the open air among thick bushes. Though the night
was very dark there was sufficient light to enable Considine to see the
glittering of white teeth close to his face, as a voice whispered in
broken English--"You's better tink twice when you try for to chases
Tottie next time! Go; Van Dyk, him's old hand in de bush, will guide
you safe."
Before morning Considine was back in Conrad Marais' parlour, relating
his adventures among the Bergenaars with a half-belief that the whole
affair was nothing more than a romantic dream.