There can be no doubt but that, during the period of the rising, and
especially during the earlier half of the same, the township of Bulawayo
was a very uncomfortable place indeed.
The oft-recurring scares, necessitating the crowding of, at any rate,
the bulk of its inhabitants into the laagers at night, contributed in
the main to this. With instances of the fell unsparing ferocity which
attended the rebel stroke--sudden, swift, and unexpected--fresh in the
mind of everybody, citizens were chary of exposing themselves and their
families to a like visitation. Private residences straggling over the
surburban stands were abandoned for the greater security of the
temporary forts which had been hastily but effectively formed out of
some of the principal buildings in and around the township itself; and
the comfort and privacy of home-life had perforce to be exchanged for an
overcrowded, hotch-potch, barrack sort of existence; men, women, and
children of all sorts and sizes herding together, hugger-mugged, under
every conceivable form of racket and discomfort, and under the most
inadequate conditions of area and convenience. Rumour, in its
many-tongued and wildest form, filled the air, gathering in volume, and
frequently in wildness, with the advent of every fresh batch of
refugees. For from all sides these came flying in--prospectors, miners,
outlying settlers with their families, some with a portion of their
worldly goods, others with none at all, and fortunate in having escaped
with their lives where others had not. For it soon became manifest that
such events as the massacre of the Hollingworths and the Inglefields,
and the fight and resolute defence at Jekyll's Store, were but samples
of what had taken place--or was still going on--all over the country.
Haggard fugitives, gaunt with starvation, stony-eyed with days and
nights of deadly peril for close companionship, nerves shattered by the
most horrible recollections, and apprehension worked up to the acutest
phase thereby--continued to arrive, each and all bringing the same tale
of treachery and ruthlessness and blood, deepening on every hand the
gloom and anxiety of the situation--anxiety on behalf of those not yet
accounted for, mingling with an apprehensive looking forward to how it
was all going to end, and when. The necessaries of life went up to
famine prices, and then the enemy began to invest the town.
Southward, crouching lion-like, among the Matyamhlope rocks; on the
north, occupying the site of the old Bulawayo kraal, and in possession
of the "Government" House which the presumptuous white man had erected
upon the former seat of the departed king, overhanging, like a dark
cloud, the township beneath, or again making fierce dashes upon traffic
which should attempt the eastward way, he mustered in all his savage
might--an ever-present menace. But the way to the west, for some
unaccountable reason, was left open.
Those in charge of the safety of the township had their hands full.
They might sally forth in force, as they frequently did, with the object
of rolling back the danger that threatened; an object sometimes
accomplished, sometimes not, for the rolling back was not invariably all
on one side. But whichever way the attempt would go, the wily foe was
sure to be in position again almost immediately, whence, massed around
the very edifice that symbolised the domination of those threatened, the
defiant thunder of his war-song would reach their ears.
Of all the narrow escapes from the widespread massacre which at that
time were in everybody's mouth, none perhaps commanded general attention
so much as that of Nidia Commerell. It was so fraught with the dramatic
element, being in fact not one escape, but a series of them. Her
personality, too, imparted to it an additional interest; this refined
and attractive girl, brought up amid every comfort, suddenly to be
thrown by rude contrast from the luxurious appointments of her peaceful
English home into the red surroundings of massacre and of death. Again,
the circumstances of her wanderings appealed strongly to the romantic
side, and people looked knowingly at each other, and pronounced John
Ames to be a singularly fortunate individual--would be, at least, were
it not for the fact that nobody knew whether he was alive or dead;
indeed, the latter contingency seemed the more probable.
There was one to whom Nidia's reappearance was as little short of
restoration to life for herself, and that one was Mrs Bateman, for to
her the girl was more than all the world put together--far more than her
own husband, and she had no children. When the first tidings of the
outbreak, and the massacre of the Hollingworths, had come in, the poor
woman had been simply frantic. The fact that Nidia had not been
included in the tragedy, but had disappeared, brought with it small
comfort. She pictured her darling in the power of brutal savages, or
wandering alone in the wilderness to perish miserably of starvation and
exhaustion; perhaps, even, to fall a prey to wild animals. Was it for
this she had allowed her to leave her English home "for a peep into wild
life," as they had put it when the much debated question had arisen?
Not even the dreadful task of breaking the news to Nidia's relatives
occurred to her now, her grief was too whole-hearted, too unmixed. Her
husband came in for a convenient safety-valve, though. Why had he
induced either of them to come near such a hateful country? He was the
real murderer, not these vile savages; and having with admirable and
usual feminine logic clapped the saddle on the wrong horse to her
heart's content, and caused that estimable engineer mildly to wish he
had never been born, she hunted him off with one of the relief forces,
together with every man she could succeed in pressing into her service.
Indeed, it used to be said that, could she have had her way, just about
every available man in Bulawayo would have been started off on that
particular search, leaving all the other women and children, herself
included, to take their chance. And then, when her grief had reached
the acutest pitch of desperation, the missing girl had been found.
Thenceforward nothing mattered. The place might be attacked nightly by
all the Matabele in Rhodesia for all she cared. She had got her darling
back again.
Back again--yes. But this was not the same Nidia. The bright sunny
flow of spirits was gone, likewise the sweet equanimity and caressing,
teasing, provocative little ways. This Nidia had come back so changed.
There was a tired, hunted look in her eyes, a listlessness of speech and
manner such as might have suited her twenty years thence, after an
indifferent experience of life _interim_, but now was simply startling
as a contrast. She talked but little, and of her escape and the manner
of it, seemed to care to talk least of all. The part John Ames had
borne in that escape she took care to make widely known, but when alone
with her friend reference to him had the effect of causing her to burst
into tears in the most unexpected and therefore alarming fashion. This
seemed not unnatural. The terrible experiences the poor girl had gone
through were calculated to unhinge her; nor was it strange she should
grieve over the tragic fate which had almost certainly overtaken the man
who had been her sole guide and protector during those terrible days,
whose sagacity and resource had brought her in safety through every
peril that threatened. It was in the nature of things she should so
grieve, even had they not been on very friendly terms before. There was
nothing for it but time, thought Susie Bateman--time and change of
scene; and with a view to the latter she hinted at the advisability of
risking the journey down-country, for, strange to say, the enemy had
refrained from intercepting the coach traffic on the Mafeking road.
This proposal, however, was met by Nidia with a very decided negative.
These two were fortunately exempt from the crowding and discomfort of
the laagers, through the fact that the house owned by the absent Bateman
was situated within about a stone's throw of one of the latter. Should
occasion really arise, they would, of course, be obliged to take refuge
therein; but in the mean time they could afford to ignore
unsubstantiated scares, for there were not wanting those who made it--
literally in some instances--a labour of love to keep extra and special
watch over this particular household. Moseley and Tarrant, for
instance, who were among the defenders of the township; Carbutt, the
tall, good-looking man who had figured prominently in the fight at
Jekyll's Store; and several others. Leave it to them, had been their
assurance. If real necessity arose, they would see to it that the two
ladies should be within the laager in ample time. Meanwhile they need
take no notice of the ordinary regulation scare, but just sit still in
peace and quietness.
They were thus sitting a few days after Nidia's return, when the latter
startled her friend by an apparently insane proposal. "Let's go for a
bike ride, Susie; a real good long one."
"Great Heavens! Is the child mad? Why, we'd run into those hateful
black wretches before we'd gone a couple of miles. They're all round us
thick as bees. Why, we could see them no further than Government House
only this morning."
"That's just the way I wanted to go. It would be such fun to see how
near we could get, and then skim away downhill again. They'd look so
sold."
"Haven't you had enough of that sort of thing yet, Nidia? If I had been
through one-tenth of what you have, I'd never want to go adventuring any
more."
"Perhaps I've contracted a taste that way now," was the reply, with a
weariful laugh. "But anything rather than sit still as we are doing. I
want a little excitement--a stirring up."
The other stared in wild amazement. Was the child really going off her
head? she thought again. But a knock on the open door announced the
advent of visitors, and lo! two men bronzed and coatless, according to
the fashion in Rhodesia, swept off their broad-brimmed hats and entered.
They were, in fact, Tarrant and Carbutt, and at sight of them Nidia
brightened up somewhat.
"Well, and what's the latest in the way of scares?" she began, after the
exchange of greetings.
"None at present, Miss Commerell," replied Carbutt. "Things are slack.
We shall have to go and have another slap at the niggers up yonder, to
keep the rust off. They are getting altogether too cheeky, squatting
around Government House its very self."
"That'll make a little excitement," said Nidia. "We can watch your
deeds of derring-do from here through the glasses."
"Heavens, no!" said Mrs Bateman, with fervour. "I don't want to see or
hear anything more of those dreadful wretches, except that they've all
been shot."
"By the way, there is a small item in the way of the latest," said
Tarrant, carelessly. "Another man has rolled in who had been given up
as a dead 'un."
"Yes. Is it anybody we know?" asked Nidia, quickly.
"I rather think it is," returned Tarrant, watching her face yet while
not seeming to. "Ames of Sikumbutana."
Nidia caught her breath with a sort of gasp, and her whole face lit up.
"Not John Ames?" she cried, as though hanging on the answer. Then, as
Tarrant nodded assent, "Oh, I am glad!"
And then all of Nidia's old self seemed to return. She poured forth
question upon question, hardly waiting to be answered. How had he
escaped? Where was he, and when was he coming to see her? and so on--
and so on.
"He's rather close on the subject, Miss Commerell," Tarrant replied.
"He has a yarn about being chevvied by niggers and tumbling over a
_dwala_, and lying unconscious--and then some niggers who knew him
piloting him in. He asked after you the first thing, just as if you had
never been away from here; and the odd part of it is, he didn't seem in
the least surprised to hear you were safe and sound, and quite all
right."
But the oddness of John Ames' lack of astonishment did not strike Nidia
just then. She talked on, quite in her old way--now freely, too--on the
subject of her escape and wanderings, making much of the humorous side
thereof, and more of the judgment and courage and resource of her guide.
Her voice had a glad note about it; a very carol of joy and relief
seemed to ring out in every tone. Ever unconventional, it never
occurred to her to make the slightest attempt to disguise her feelings.
If she was glad that the man who had done so much for her had returned
safe and sound, it was not in her to conceal that fact.
"Phew! she's giving away the show," Tarrant was thinking to himself.
"That first shot of mine _re_ John Ames was a plumb centre. I'll have
the crow over old Moseley now. Lucky John Ames!"
But at heart he was conscious of a certain not altogether to be
controlled sinking. He was not without a weakness for Nidia himself;
now, however, in a flash he recognised its utter futility, and was far
too much a man of the world not to realise that the sooner he cured
himself of it the better.
Upon one other the change in Nidia's manner was not lost, and the
discovery struck Susie Bateman with such wild amazement that she at
first refused to entertain it. Here, then, lay the secret of the girl's
fits of depression and generally low spirits. Such were not due to her
recent terrible experiences. She had been secretly grieving on account
of the man who had shared them, or why this sudden and almost miraculous
restoration which the news of his safety had effected? She recalled her
half-playful, half-serious warning to Nidia during their earlier
acquaintance with this man--a warning more than once repeated, too.
That had been out of consideration for the man; but that it should ever
have been needed on Nidia's own account--oh, Heavens! the idea was
ghastly, if it were not so incredible Nidia, who had renounced airily
the most alluring possibilities more than once, now to throw herself
away upon a mere nobody! Nidia, who had never taken any of them
seriously in her life, to succumb in this fashion! No, it could not be
allowed. It could be nothing but the result of propinquity, and danger
mutually shared. She must be saved from this at all costs. And then
the good woman recognised uneasily that John Ames would be rather a
difficult person to defeat, once he had made up his mind to opposition.
Ah! but she had one card to play, one weapon wherewith to deal a blow to
which one of his mould would be peculiarly vulnerable.
The while she watched Nidia closely. But for the discovery she had
made, she would have rejoiced to see her darling so completely her old
self, all brightness and animation as she chatted away with the two
visitors; now that very gladsomeness was as a poisoned and rankling dart
to the dismayed observer, for it confirmed all her direst suspicions.
Susie Bateman's Christianity was about on a par with that of the average
British female, in that she would have looked sourly askance at anybody
who should refuse to attend church, yet just then she would have given a
great deal to learn that Tarrant's report was erroneous, and that John
Ames was at that moment lying among the granite wilds of the Matopos, as
lifeless as the granite itself, with half a dozen Matabele assegais
through him.
Such aspirations, however, were as futile as they usually are, and the
best proof of the truth of Tarrant's story lay in the real objective
presence of the subject thereof; for hardly had the two men departed
when they were replaced by a third--even John Ames him-self.