The
Little Dane was written before 1937 by Anna Louise Rous (born Flemmer) 1874 -1941.
Although it cannot be called an accurate history it is a fascinating collection
of stories about her family and about our ancestors, who arrived in South Africa
in 1853.
We can be thankful that the original manuscript was transcribed
in 1973 by Joan Geyser (born Flemmer 1929). This made it available to the many
members of the family who have taken an interest in the family history over the
years. In 1973 there were no such things as computers and photocopying was in
its infancy. Duplicating was done by laboriously typing each page on to a waxed
sheet, which was inked and run through a duplicator. A slow and messy process.
Joan describes her Herculean labour:
'In July 1973 our son Bruce was sent
to Bethlehem O.F.S. to commence his compulsory army training in the Engineers.
This left a gap in my life similar to "the empty nest syndrome", so I decided
to retype The Little Dane. Aunt Madge had mailed a rough copy, with many alterations,
so now was the time to get busy
.
I was employed as a bookkeeper in a mornings
only capacity, so had some free time in the afternoon to do some typing on my
portable typewriter, while Lindi was doing her homework or studying. I set up
a little office in our glass enclosed summerhouse in the back garden, was given
a discarded Gestetner Roneo duplicating machine by my employer, and as the duplicating
black ink was messy it was necessary to leave all my "tools" and paper, etc. in
one place for some months.
Before I commenced the typing we wrote to all
the Flemmers I knew plus those in the telephone directory and Aunt Madge contacted
the people of Flemmer descent with whom she was acquainted. The orders rolled
in. I still have the invoices for the material: - Three boxes wax stencils, eleven
reams of duplicator paper (each ream 500 sheets), four tubes black duplicating
ink - and pink stencil correction ink! I had quite a production line going and
charged a cost price of R5 per manuscript consisting of 118 pages, and printed
46 books. I was told by Louie's granddaughter, Judith Canning, that unfortunately
some of the last pages of the rough copy she sent us had been
lost.'
In
2002 it was decided to bring Joan's original into the digital age, making it more
readily available to the growing number of people interested in our families and
their histories. The family have to thank my brother Terry Herbert who completed
the major part of this time consuming job with help from Fay Lea. Footnotes explaining
and expanding on the text were added by me and Fay.
In 2003, 150 years
after the Flemmers arrived in the Cape, the book will again be available, this
time in CD format, continuing the chain and perpetrating the memory of Louie Flemmer-the
Little Dane.
Steve Herbert - Kalk Bay January 2003
JOHN
DISTIN FLEMMER
Married
MAUD CROXFORD
John Distin Flemmer (Jack) brother of "The
Little Dane", Louie, was born in 1872.
He had three brothers, Christian,
Claude and Arthur and four sisters, Louie, Edith, Selina and Olive.
The
children grew up on their father's large farm in the Cradock district. Their father
was a hard taskmaster and the boys worked with the farm hands. The farm stretched
as far as the eye could see.
Later in life Jack left to work on the Rand
Mines.
John Distin married Maud Croxford in the year 1899.
Maud
lived with her Aunt Janie before her marriage and spent some time in England studying
music and art.
Maud lost her mother at an early age. She had a sister
Ada and four brothers, Clem, Ports, Cyril and Arthur.
Ada lived with her
Aunt Janie at 13 O'Reilly Road, Berea for many years. John Distin and Maud had
seven children :- Madge, Doris, Jack, Ludvig, Neville, Gwynne and Barbara.
Their
first home was at Rose Deep Mine, Germiston, where John Distin was an amalgamator
(i.e. the process of melting the gold form the rock and pouring it into the moulds).
Twins,
Ludvig (Lollie) and Jack, were born in Morekwen, Bechuanaland but the family left
there when Jack contracted polio at the age of four. They moved to the Rand to
be near doctors, etc.
Maud inherited money form her Uncle Porter Rhodes
and they bought the farm Schoongezicht. Later Maud inherited more money when the
loan to the Orphans Fund was paid off.
Eventually they sold the homestead
section of the farm and had the other portion surveyed into 25 acre plots which
were sold but they were taken back after the Miners Strike in 1920.
John
Distin died in 1920.
Maud moved to Johannesburg and lived with her seven
children in a house belonging to Aunt Ada, in Yeoville.
When Aunt Janie
died, Maud moved into 13 O'Reilly Road, Berea which she inherited from Aunt Janie.
Neville inherited the Yeoville house, which he sold.
Ludvig (Lollie) and
Neville (Nick) immigrated to Kenya. Mother Maud visited them in Kenya on two occasions
but they did not return to the Transvaaal in her lifetime. Lollie is still in
Kenya but Nick and his wife Daisy, left Kenya when the Mau Mau terrorists hanged
their faithful cookboy as he refused to murder his employer.
Grandmother
Maud was loved by all her grandchildren and it is exciting to visit her at 13
O'Reilly Road. The big house with its wonderful furnishings: the tea cups and
delicious eats all set out on the big table and covered with a teashower. The
sing-songs with Granny playing the piano: the visit to the cinema with Granny
and the lovely walk through Joubert Park. The walks to the koppie nearby where
there was a magnificent view of the town: Granny teaching us to crochet and the
pretty dolls clothes we made.
Joan (Flemmer) Geyser
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PREFACE
"
Old Ghosts, whose day was done ere mine began
If earth be seen from your conjectured
heaven,
Ye know that History is half dream - aye even
The man's life in
the letters of the man.
There lies the letter, but it is not he
As he retires
into himself and is:
Sender and sent - to go to make up this,
Their offspring
of this union. And on me
Frown no old Ghosts, if I be one of those
Who make
you utter things you did not say,
And mould you all awry and mar your worth;
For
whosoever knows us truly, knows
That none can truly write his single day,
And
none can write it for him upon earth."
CHAPTER I
Denmark
1773 - South Africa 1852
There
landed in Cape Town towards the end of the 18th century Miss von
der Spy, the heir of a romantic past, the great grandparent of The Little
Dane.
"Woe to thee O Land," saith the Preacher, "when thy King is a child
"
Frederick V King of Denmark, was twice married and had one son by each
Queen, there being only four years between the ages of the little Princes: the
Crown, therefore, devolved upon the elder, Prince Christian.
Prince Christian's
stepmother was an ambitious, unscrupulous woman who wanted the crown for her own
adored son. It is said that on one occasion the Queen came into the royal nursery
while, little Prince Christian was being fed and sent the nurse out of the room
on some slight pretext. The nurse, suspecting foul play, remained at the door
peeping through the keyhole: she saw the Queen pouring some white powder into
the little Prince's food. On returning the nurse firmly refused to feed the Prince
and the Queen, realising that her duplicity had been discovered, had her deported
to Norway, and the matter hushed up.
Frederick V died in 1766 and Christian
VII, a mere boy, became King with his stepmother as regent during his minority.
He was completely dominated by her. Only in his choice of his wife did he follow
his own judgement, to the great annoyance of the Queen. He married Princess
Caroline Matilda, the youngest daughter of George II of England and sister
of George III. She was hailed by the whole nation, much admired and loved, and
affectionately called "the English Rose".
When the time came for the cannon
to roar forth to the nation the glad tiding that a Prince had been born to the
happy King and Queen, the Queen-dowager's jealousy knew no bounds and she never
ceased to sow discord between the young couple. Her opportunity came:
The
German, Struensee, a physician, the son of a clergyman, who had quarrelled with
his father on religious matters, led an unsettled life for some years and then
found himself at the Court of Denmark. He became Court Physician to Christian
VII and travelled with him through England, France and Germany.
The young
Queen resented Struensee's influence over her husband, but as he was able to cure
her of a very serious malady he became her favourite also. This admiration was
only professional but much was made of it by the Queen-dowager. Struensee was
made Prime Minister and he and his private Secretary, Toger von
Abo, were given private apartments in the Palace. The Queen-dowager threw
suspicion on the Queen's character by saying that Struensee was her lover, and
that the royal children were illegitimate.
The King,
easily influenced by his stepmother, was an easy prey to the suggestion of the
plotting woman. The Queen-dowager who, with her followers, entered the Palace
at the dead of night, woke the King and told him that the Queen with Struensee
was leading the town in rebellion, her object being to usurp the throne for her
lover. She forced the King to sign a paper, already prepared, ordering all the
inmates of the Castle to be arrested and the young Queen to be deported to the
Castle of Kronberg. She might have shared the fate of Struensee, who was beheaded,
had it not been for Keith, King George III's representative, who declared: "if
a hair of her head is touched, there will be war between England and Denmark".
At the intervention of England, Caroline Matilda was allowed to live in the Castle
of Zell in Hanover, which belonged to the English King. During
the remaining years of her life she repeatedly begged for a public trial. She
died at the age of twenty three some think from poison.
Toger von Abo,
Struensee's secretary, was a staunch supporter of the young Queen and for that
reason received a sentence of banishment for two years. He left
Denmark in 1773 and, taking service in a foreign country, did not return to Denmark
at the end of the two years but distinguished himself by his bravery and other
excellent qualities and at a very early age became an Admiral.
During
the last years of his travels, von Abo touched at the Cape of Good Hope, where
he met and fell in love with Miss von der Spy, who had lately arrived from Holland,
and he carried her back to Denmark as his bride. He was well
received by the then reigning King, Frederick VI, son of Christian VII and Caroline
Matilda.
Toger von Abo and his wife lived in one of the King's castles
and there Johannes, their only child, was born. The godson of a
Danish Princess, he grew up surrounded by all the luxury and comfort of Court
life and became a page to the Queen, a poor preparation for the hardships he was
to endure in future years. He used to say of himself that he "was born in a Castle
and died in a pig-sty". He died in South Africa, in the little town of Burgersdorp
in 1869.
Through revolution and years of misrule Denmark was so impoverished
that Toger von Abo, realising his country's need, lent large sums of money to
the Government. He held "Obligations" as the papers were called
in Denmark, but knowing the state of the country, he tore these papers up as so
much waste paper. Nothing daunted and although well advanced in years, he decided
to collect all he possessed, make provision for his wife and son and sail to China
on a trading expedition - this being a very remunerative trade in those days.
He sailed in his own ship on a most successful trip.
Returning
home a wealthy man, he was looking forward to the reunion of his family after
an absence of nearly three years. Alas, when within sight of the Cape of Good
Hope he was taken ill at sea and was buried in Cape Town. Strange fate! There
it was he had met his wife, his dream woman. What happy days when love's young
dream came true, and now his last resting place!
Unfortunately his sacrifice
was in vain: the next in command, being a dishonest man, took everything. The
widow and son of von Abo received no benefit from the sacrifice their dear one
had made for their sakes.
Eixkated was a Selesian nobleman who wished his
son to marry a lady of the nobility. The son refused. They quarrelled. The son
ran off to Copenhagen with the girl he loved. Here they were married in the church
of St Nicholai. He changed his name from Eixkated to Naested.
Unfortunately during the bombardment of Copenhagen by the English the church of
St Nicholai was destroyed and all records lost. So the noble Selesian estate has
been lost to the family of Naested who are the only heirs. A daughter of this
runaway marriage was Louise Naested who married Johannes von Abo. They had three
children, Toger, Marie and Betty. When Betty was six months
old Denmark was again suffering as the result of wars and revolutions and Johannes
and his mother decided that it would be a good thing for him to go out to South
Africa and there make a home for them. His mother who had been a Miss von der
Spy, was in South Africa when her husband, Toger von Abo, met and married her.
She therefore knew what scope there would be in that young country for her son
as his profession was survey. He sailed in 1816.
Weeks grew into months,
months into years, and still no word from the breadwinner of the little family.
With tear-dimmed eyes the young wife, Louise, watched the ships sail up the harbour
of Copenhagen. With an anxious heart she waited, listening for the postman's knock,
for the letter which never came!
Oh! For the news of the loved one who
had sailed to that far unknown land. How she longed to carry out the happy programme
they had arranged, which was for herself, her mother-in-law and her three little
children to go out and join her husband and make their home in that wonderful
land of sunshine.
Two and a half years passed and still no letter. Louise
caught a chill and died - died of a broken heart. In Denmark
the dead are not buried until several days after death has taken place. On the
day of Louise's funeral twelve letters arrived from her husband.
A month
later her mother-in-law died, leaving the three little children
to be taken care of each by a brother or sister of their dead mother. Lovely little
Betty, three years of age, with her big brown eyes and her head one mass of curling
black hair, was taken in by an aunt who had one child of her own, a girl considerably
older than Betty. Betty's good looks caused much jealousy.
She grew up almost the Cinderella of the family but reached maidenhood with a
sweet unselfish character.
Living in Denmark at this time was a good and
learned man, The Reverend Christian Flemmer. He was decorated
with the cross "Knights of the Danebrog" which decoration he
received for services, gratuitously given in the cause of education. He gave
all his family plate to the Government to be melted into coin when the National
Bank of Denmark failed. His youngest son Dr Christian Flemmer,
was a medical student and a very welcome visitor at the home of Betty's aunt.
Very popular with the two girls, he played his cards so well and hid his feelings
with such success that it came as a great shock when he asked for the hand of
Betty. He carried her off in triumph and they lived very happily for many years
in the little fishing village of Korsoer in Denmark.
Betty's brother, Toger
von Abo, had at an early age followed his father, Johannes von Abo, to South Africa.
After an absence of sixteen years he returned to Denmark, full of enthusiasm about
the Sunny south and persuaded Betty and her husband, Dr Christian Flemmer, to
break up their little home and go out to South Africa with their
family. Everything was arranged, Betty's brother giving them very substantial
financial assistance. Betty was thirty seven years of age and the mother of seven
children. Her eldest son, Ludvig Christian Flemmer, carried on the link of history
down to the Little Dane.
After a voyage of nearly three months, the family
of Danes together with servants and workmen, landed in Port Elizabeth during the
month of February 1853. Betty's father, Johannes von Abo, who parted from Betty
when she was six months old, now beheld his daughter a mother of seven fine children,
two daughters and five sons. Tents had been pitched to receive
the travellers as at this time there was only one house in Port
Elizabeth, on the hill. After resting for a few days, the Danes, with all
their possessions, were packed into ox wagons and the journey inland commenced.
The wild unbroken country through which they passed was a mixture of grandeur
and monotony, the ever changing hills a source of constant interest and delight,
a great change from the almost dead level of the Denmark they had left, with trees
and water everywhere and its dense population. Now they would travel the whole
day without passing a single homestead. Weird and wonderful night noises thrilled
the travellers. The furtive eyes and stealthy tread of animals beyond the range
of the camp fire were abundant evidence of the presence of the denizens of the
veldt: the call of jackals at night and the bark of baboons during the day kept
the children in a state of panic or delight throughout the journey.
Parts
of the country through which they travelled were thickly covered by a wild fruit,
the prickly pear, a fruit which is relished by the Natives. Thinking to please
the children, one old wagon driver, "Windvoel" collected a dish of the prickly
pear fruit, the cleaning of which is quite an art as the fruit is covered
with minute thorns, almost invisible. These are brushed off with a bush gathered
for the purpose, and then a thin skin is removed, leaving the luscious juicy fruit
the size and shape of a large egg.
Old "Windvoel's" efforts was greatly
appreciated, the children were delighted and thoroughly enjoyed the fruit. The
following day, as soon as a halt was called and the camp pitched, the eldest son,
Ludvig, full of enterprise, himself made off for the prickly pear bushes and collected
a quantity of the fruit, filling his pockets and shirt without realising the presence
of millions of minute thorns. The agony which he suffered can only be realised
by those who have handled this unkind fruit and have found that one thorn is enough
to cause great inconvenience. It was most fortunate that his father was a medical
man and was thus able to alleviate his suffering. The rest of his life was spent
in South Africa but nothing would induce him to eat another prickly pear.
After
travelling in the ox wagons for three weeks, this little company of Danes arrived
in Cradock. Here Dr Flemmer set up as a medical man: he was one
of the first, if not the first M.D. to come to South Africa. He had
a very successful practice and was much loved by his patients. He was specially
interested in the ailments of infants and made up a powder which he used to say
was " as necessary for a baby as the Lord's Prayer was to grown up people" It
has been handed down from generation to generation and used by all his descendants
with great success.
Dr Flemmer and his family were great favourites and
much sought after by the little community of Cradock, to whom the family medicine
chest had been their only assistance in times of illness.
Betty and her
husband were very musical and in spite of her family cares, Betty retained her
interest in the social side of life, and she and her husband would sing Danish
duets and songs, to the delight of their audience.
Amongst their friends
were a Mr and Mrs John Sweet Distin. Mr Distin was a gentleman from Devonshire
in England, who had married Selina White. They had several children, amongst them
a little boy who was lame as the result of an injury. It was the great delight
of the younger Flemmer boys to take little Jack Distin about in his improvised
cart. Though Mr Distin had no idea of music, he was an appreciative listener and
could be entertained for hours, his favourite song being "Juanita".
A glorious
calm summer's night in 1859! The home of Mr and Mrs Distin is gay with the sound
of music and the tread of dancing feet. The whole town has been invited to the
dance, Mr Distin being the most hospitable of men. The only member of their family
who was considered old enough to take part was their eldest daughter, Anna,
aged ten years! During the evening Dr Flemmer approached his son
saying, "My son, have you danced with the little lady of the house?". "No Father,
she is only a child and I am twenty, I could not think of dancing with her," replied
his son with all the dignity of twenty years. "but it is your duty," replied his
father. "it does not matter what the age is, you as a gentleman are in duty bound
to dance with your hostess and any other ladies belonging to the home, and I do
not wish to see my son neglect his duty."
Dutifully Ludvig asked Anna for
a dance. How little he dreamed as he whirled his little partner over the floor
to the gay music of the Polka, that he was dancing with his future wife! Ten years
hence he was to ask her to become his life's partner!
Anna Distin's tenth
year was full of thrills. She had been to her first big Ball and now her father
had decided to take his family to Port Elizabeth where they were to spend three
months, for the sake of his wife's health. They would be many weeks on the road,
travelling by ox wagon, always a thrilling experience for the children, and they
were going to live in a big double storey house in Port Elizabeth.
During
their stay in Port Elizabeth, Prince Albert, the Duke of Edinburgh, visited South
Africa, and while His Royal Highness was in Port Elizabeth, a Ball was given in
his honour. Mr Distin was greatly distressed and disappointed that, owing to ill-health,
his wife could not attend the Ball. He insisted that he must take a lady from
his household and so it was arranged that little Anna should attend the Prince's
Ball!
What excitement for the little maid! A dressmaker was sent for and
a very beautiful white silk dress made. On the night of the Ball, Mr Distin who
was familiar with the Town Hall Buildings, arrived with his charge. Opening the
door of what had always been the Ladies' Cloak Room, he said, "Go in and when
you have removed your cloak and changed your shoes, come back to me." He had hardly
closed the door on his daughter when he heard her shout. He opened the door and
what was his astonishment to behold the Prince sitting at a table with his staff,
and Anna, clapping her hands and leaping in the air, shouting "Papa! Papa! The
Prince, the Prince!"
With many apologies to His Royal Highness, Mr Distin
carried Anna off and found the Ladies' Cloak Room.
Soon after their return
to Cradock, Mr Distin bought a farm which he called "Tafelberg". Its name means
"Table Mountain" so named because of a large mountain, nearly two thousand feet
from the base, which lies in the middle of the farm. Mr Distin described his purchase
as "The Heart of the World". Here he carried on farming operations on a very large
scale. On several occasions Mr Distin got young men out from Scotland to learn
farming. In 1862 he imported Cotswold Rams, an importation almost unheard of in
those days.
He even lost his seat in the Cape Parliament because he tried
to force the Fencing and Scab Acts on the country. But he decided
to fence his farm. There was no one who knew anything about fencing, so he
imported a man from Australia to do the work. Sneezewood poles were brought up
from Bedford District and the fence erected in 1860. People came from many parts
of the Middelburg District to look at this first fence, where now every farm is
jackal proof fenced. When the fence which was erected in 1860 had to be removed
in 1930, one of the poles was given to a cabinet maker, who successfully made
a little jewel case which is much treasured by Mr Distin's grand-daughter, The
Little Dane.
Mr. and Mrs. Distin were held in great esteem and friendship
by English and Dutch alike, and their beautiful home Tafelburg Hall, was a sort
of fairyland to all and sundry of their friends. The old home, Built in 1827,
with its Dutch Gables, its huge hall and antique furnishings: the long dining
table, with the Zulu boys, dressed in red caps and white coats, gliding silently
about attending to the many guests, was indeed a place of rest and joy to friends
and relatives. Joe and Tom, two Zulu boys, as black as the ace of spades, served
Mr. & Mrs. Distin faithfully for many years. No white butler could have been more
efficient than these two boys. Mr Distin carried a gold whistle on the end of
his watch chain - one blast was enough!
Mrs Distin was a great gardener
as the beautiful gardens with their shady walks, flower beds and orchards still
testify.
Five miles from the main dwelling house was another homestead
belonging to Mr Distin. Here Ludvig Flemmer worked as manager for Mr. Distin for
several years. As there were no telephones or motors in those days, Mr Flemmer,
to keep in touch with the farming operations, could constantly be seen covering
the five miles on horseback. He was a great horseman and performed many amazing
tricks while riding, such as off-saddling and re-saddling his horse while going
at full gallop. These rides became more frequent as his interest grew in Anna,
who had now grown to sweet maidenhood - the little girl whom ten years ago he
felt too big to dance with! They became engaged. Mr Flemmer was very fond of poetry
and wrote quite extensively. Here is a poem written to Anna on her first birthday
after their engagement:
"November
3rd, 1867"
"Anna, I wish the first would be
To wish you joy upon this
day:
First birthday that I spend with thee
Though seventeen have passed
away.
And now the eighteenth has come round
To us, what changes since
that last.
Love's golden chain we both have found
And firmly it is round
us cast.
What hopes, what joys have dawn'd on us
Of which we could not
dream before,
Nor thought to realise them thus,
That we should meet and
part no more.
No thought will rise that may not be
From that true gentle
heart of thine,
So I may surely hope to see
Fulfil'd this birthday wish
of mine."
And this is how he describes her:
"A merry, bright and
smiling face
No frown upon it ever,
Nought but goodness there you trace
Anger
mars it never.
Dark and light brown tresses flow
In golden wavy ringlets,
Shade
and sunshine do they show
Two colours in them mingle.
I wish I could describe
the eyes
Not unlike bright summer skies."
The wedding took place on September 8th,
1869 in Cradock, in the beautiful Dutch Reformed Church which had just been completed.
There, by special permission of the Dutch community, they were married by their
own clergyman. The repairs going on at the Anglican Church, St Peters, made it
impossible for the ceremony to take place there.
The Cradock Dutch Church
is one of the most beautiful in South Africa. It was built by the Rev J.H. du
Plessis and is a replica of St Martins-in-the-Fields, London.
This English-
Danish wedding was a very popular one, and everybody in Cradock was present at
the breakfast. Mr. Distin, in his splendid generous way, presented his daughter
with the farm of which Mr Flemmer was his manager, with stock provided and home
furnished.
Happily this loving couple dwelt in the little old farm house
with its three foot thick walls of mud and its thatched roof. It seemed as if
nothing could ever happen to disturb this perfect peace. Only three months did
this happy couple remain in possession of their dear little home.
It was
a Monday morning. Mr Flemmer was up with the lark, and on scanning
the horizon, he beheld a horseman riding as if for his life. He was handed a letter
which he scanned with paling face and trembling hands. He returned to the house.
"Anna," he called, sinking into his chair, "I have very bad news. My Father is
dead." He handed her the letter which she read, tears filling her sweet blue eyes.
Dr
Flemmer had retired and was living on a farm near Steynsburg. On Sunday afternoon
Betty left her room to attend to afternoon tea, and in the midst of her preparations
returned to the bedroom for her handkerchief. She was just in time to see her
dear husband breathe his last! He died painlessly from heart failure.
Ludvig had promised his father that should the Doctor be taken, it would be his,
Ludvig's special care to take charge of his mother. He said, "We must leave at
once. I will arrange to let this farm as we must now make our home with my mother
on her farm near Steynsburg."
Poor little Anna shed bitter tears at giving
up her charming little home where she had reigned supreme: and although she was
very fond of her mother-in-law she did not look forward to making her home with
the Danes, where practically only Danish was spoken and Danish dishes eaten. However,
brave little Anna, with her sweet and gentle smile and her soft kind blue eyes
won the love of them all, and they lived in peace for three years. Then the family
decided to break up the home. Betty and her brother were given a small cottage
in Cradock where they lived happily until his death.
Mr
Flemmer did not return to the farm where they spent the first part of their married
life. He set up in business in Cradock, which business he carried on for ten years.
They lost their two eldest children, the boy, Christian Ludvig,
died when he was four years old and Selina when she was six
weeks old. Their third child, Louie, was born in Cradock -
The Little Dane.
CHAPTER
II
HE
Captain
James Rous came to South Africa from England about the year 1836. He settled in
Cape Town and married the belle of Simonstown, a Miss Cowper, the daughter of
an officer in the Imperial Army. They had three children and while the eldest
of the family, James, was still very young his father died, leaving his wife in
such poor circumstances that she had to earn her own living, beside supporting
her children. To be able to do this she handed over each of her children to a
different relative.
When James was ten years old, he ran away and managed
to reach Durban. Here he went into a newspaper office. At an early age, in the
late sixties, he was able to set up for himself in Pretoria. He started and edited
Pretoria's first newspaper called "Die Volkstem" (the Voice of the Nation).
He
married Alexa Cole, the daughter of a Church of England clergyman,
who had come to stay with her married sister living in Pretoria.
Mr Rous
and his brother-in-law, Mr Broderick, were much interested in gold, which was
then being found on the various farms in the Transvaal, and in 1873 Mr Broderick
with his panning outfit and a quantity of quartz which he had collected, proceeded
to pan gold in the presence of members of the Volksraad on Pretoria Square. Mr
Rous was present to represent his paper. This gold was taken to England by Mr
Broderick where, in the English mint, it was turned into fifty golden sovereigns
with the head of Burgers, President of the Transvaal on the one side and the Transvaal
coat of arms on the other side. When he returned to Pretoria he presented each
of the various men who were interested with a sovereign, and Mr Rous sent one
of these sovereigns to his sister living in Cape Town. That sovereign, together
with the photographs which were taken at the scene of the panning of the gold
on the Pretoria market Square in 1874, are in the possession of Mr Rous' daughter-in-law.
Mr
Rous was a very adventurous and enterprising man. On one occasion when travelling
alone on horseback through the wilds of Transvaal, he came upon a deserted Kaffir
kraal. Wishing to protect himself from the wind and to rest his horse which had
travelled for many hours, he sought shelter among the empty huts. Great was his
surprise to find two magnificent lion cubs playing about in all abandonment of
their free wild life. With cool contempt of the danger he was running, he lay
and watched the gambols of the pretty creatures as they frolicked about like two
playful kittens in the clearing which had evidently been made by the lioness.
He rubbed down his horse, re-saddled him, then gathering one of the cubs in his
arms, mounted and rode off.
After travelling some distance, the wind dropped
and he was able to enjoy his ride as the heat of the day was passing and the cool
of the evening was exceedingly pleasant. He happened to glance over his shoulder
and there in the distance, where a bend in the road made her visible, was the
lioness! He put spurs to his horse, keeping a sharp look-out, but when he realised
that she was gaining on him, he felt forced to drop the cub. This he did with
great reluctance and arrived home without further adventure.
Mr Rous had
three children, Winefred, Vassall and James. Though he owned
several farms and properties when he died of pneumonia in Pretoria, at the early
age of thirty six, he left his widow unprovided for. To earn a living for herself,
she taught music and drawing.
One day a lady called to see Mrs Rous. "Your
little boy Jim is fighting in the street," she said. "How shocking," replied the
boy's mother, "I wonder why he does not go into the yard and fight!"
During
the year 1881 when England and the Transvaal were at war, Mrs Rous (with her own
and her sister's children) was in the English camp in Pretoria. On coming out
of her tent during a bombardment from the Dutch artillery, she saw with horror
that four little boys had clambered on to the sand-bags which formed a barricade
and were watching the enemy's operations. She rushed out and seizing each one
by the seat of his pants, pulled him to safety.
Jim well remembered the
camp, and although only six years of age, was deeply moved at the sight of the
British soldiers "downing arms" on the Pretoria Square at the close of hostilities,
his loyal and patriotic little heart bursting with indignation.
When Jim
was nine years old his mother's health was in such a delicate state that the family
doctor insisted that she should leave Pretoria. She was worried and anxious about
her ways and means, when a brother-in-law came to see her. "There is a second
house on my farm," he said, "It is vacant and if you wish to do so you may live
in it as long as you like. It is near Lichtenburg, but unfurnished." Mrs Rous
gladly accepted this offer. The necessary preparations were made and a native
transport driver, with his wagons and oxen, engaged to drive the family to the
farm.
Mrs Rous was a small woman with beautiful grey large eyes and lovely
curling auburn hair. She had been reared in an English rectory so that it was
a great change for her to be travelling by ox wagon through wild, almost uninhabited
country. She was on the road for days with her young children and had to take
charge of the native drivers.
The brave little woman carried a revolver
and on more than one occasion it was necessary for her to get out and do some
target practice, to show the native men that she was familiar with the use of
arms and able to shoot should the occasion arise. (Today the revolver is still
treasured by her daughter-in-law).
Great was their dismay on arrival at
their destination to find a lonely deserted and dilapidated homestead with a small
orchard in front of the house, and only two doors - one at the back and one in
the front. One gable had completely collapsed and there were openings in the walls
instead of communicating doors. Poor little lady! What heartache and distress
of spirit she endured!
The family settled in as best they could. Vassall
had to sleep on the floor of the dining room. In the middle of the night there
was a piercing shriek. "What is the matter?" asked Mrs Rous, producing a light.
"A rat has bitten me on my side, " said poor Vassal, showing the marks of the
sharp little teeth. The family settled down once more, but found it impossible
to sleep with the rats and mice chasing one another over the furniture, making
the night hideous with their noises. It was weeks before they were able to get
a decent night's rest.
On a neighbouring farm, within walking distance,
was a Dutch family, but owing to the feeling left by the Transvaal War with England
in 1881, the relationship between these neighbours was not a very happy one. Fortunately,
however, they came to terms sufficiently for Mrs Rous to barter gunpowder for
meat and meal, a teacupful of gunpowder being exchanged for a haunch of venison
or bucket of meal. The youngest boy, Koosie, who was not old enough to realise
any feelings of bitterness towards the English, became very friendly with Jim.
Koosie spent his time taking care of his father's sheep and it was Jim's delight
to go with him. Every day the two boys would take the old fashioned fowling piece
and three bullets, all that were allowed them. Jim would listen in awe in his
heart to Koosie's father saying, "Mind, if you don't come home with a buck tonight
when you bring the sheep, you will get the biggest thrashing of your life."
In
spite of this terrible threat, Jim and Koosie would set off gaily, carrying a
light lunch, the fowling piece and the three precious bullets. The boys were such
accurate shots and game was so plentiful, that they thought it great fun firing
at a target in the shape of an antheap, so they took turns to fire bullets at
the antheap. Of course if they missed the antheap the lead would be lost, but
they were able invariably to extract it with their pocket knives from the antheap
as they seldom missed. This meant that the lead thus recovered was so misshapen
that it had to be re-melted before it could be used again. The thrill of the situation
was that one bullet remained to shoot the buck and so prevent them having their
promised thrashing.
"This is a good antheap," said Jim, after they had
driven the sheep into a good pasturage: "It is my turn to shoot first today because
you shot first yesterday, and it is my turn to shoot the buck." "Alright," said
Koosie, "I saw a big troop of buck behind the koppies and they will be coming
down to water towards midday." Having fired their respective shots the boys lay
in wait for the buck. As the troop came filing past, Koosie said: " Fire, man,
fire!" " No," came the answer from Jim, " I want to get the big one." The rear
of the herd was brought up by a couple of fine big rams and Koosie watched breathlessly
as Jim deliberately took aim. Bang! The two boys rushed forward and were delighted
to find a fine ram.
This practice stood Jim in very good stead when later
he took part in a shooting competition arranged by the Boers in which sixty grown
Dutchmen were competing. These men were noted for their accurate shooting and
Jim, though only twelve years of age, scored the highest marks of the day.
Mrs
Rous never refused hospitality or food to any beggar. On a dark night of storm
and rain there was a knock at the door. A tramp, a Frenchman, was seeking food
and shelter. He was given food and put in the kitchen to sleep. Jim, who shared
his mother's room, woke to see her sitting up in bed, lighted candle flickering
beside her, her revolver levelled at the stranger who stood in the doorway. "If
you come one step further, I'll shoot you dead." came the calm voice in deadly
earnest. "Go back to the kitchen." After a few moments hesitations, as the man
stood weighing his chances and facing the revolver whose aggressive point seemed
to bore a hole in his forehead, he realised that the odds were against him and
slunk off to his quarters.
The next morning, when Mrs Rous went to face
him with his treachery and demand an apology, she was thankful to find that he
had taken himself off, and she silently prayed that she might never have to face
another such experience.
One moonlight night, during the month of June,
as the little family sat around their frugal fire, the mother telling them stories
of her life in England and reading to them from the poets she loved so well, was
interrupted by a strange noise, and the whole family, listening intently, realised
that something unusual was happening. "Vassall," she said, "Go to the door and
open the upper half very quietly and peep out."
"Mother!" came Vassall's
voice in great excitement, "The hyenas are chasing the cattle. There is a whole
pack of them. It is as bright as day, come and have a look." They all crowded
to the door: "Look!" said Jim, "they have pulled down a beast and are tearing
it to pieces." "Come away," said his mother, "the sight is too horrible: the poor
animal must be in agony." Closing the door, they returned to the fireside.
"You
must go over to the Snyman's farm tomorrow morning early, Jim, and tell them that
one of their cattle has been killed here by hyenas."
The following night
there was a scratching at the door and the pad of stealthy feet about the house.
"Surely," said Mrs Rous, "the hyenas can't be getting so bold as to attack us
too." Vassall crept to the window and peeped out. "they are not hyenas but wild
dogs." he cried. A shot fired into the night frightened the creatures off.
Vassall,
though only a boy of thirteen years of age, would walk once a month to Lichtenburg,
a distance of fourteen miles, to fetch the post - a lonely difficult road and
never a passing vehicle to give him a lift.
Many were the hardships, difficulties
and privations which the brave little Englishwoman endured. On one occasion they
were without bread for three months, living just on mealie meal. After a year
of this farm life, Mrs Rous decided to move into the town of Lichtenburg, where
another year was spent. During the family's stay there they had a unique experience:
A
terrific hailstorm was passing over the town: hailstones the size of fowl's eggs,
smashed windows and beat down flowers and trees, striking terror into the hearts
of the inhabitants of the place. There was an old widow living alone and very
poor. Adjoining her home was a field of wheat in full ear. This was all she possessed,
so she depended on the proceeds of that wheat field to pay her rent and keep her
in food and clothes during the following year. She came on to her stoep and gazed
at the storm, at the angry heavens, the lightning and the destroying hailstones,
whilst the roar of thunder deafened her. Her gaze fell upon the field of wheat,
as destruction was sweeping down upon it. The old woman fell on her knees and
raising her hands to heaven she prayed aloud that her Heavenly father would spare
her field of wheat. The miracle happened: not one ear of her wheat was destroyed!
Surely it could be said of her "Great is Thy Faith!"
The next move was
to Ventersdorp - a small village situated on the banks of the Mooi River, a pretty
little place with many gardens and beautiful willow trees growing on either side
of the wide water furrow which runs right through the village.
At the early
age of eleven Jim started to earn his own living: he became one of the world's
toilers. Twice a week he spent an hour in the evening taking lessons from a Dutch
clergyman, a very good man for whom Jim had the greatest admiration and respect
(the Rev Kriel). He gained much knowledge and information by reading and talking
to his mother, who was a highly educated and cultured woman, speaking both French
and German with the greatest fluency. She was also an excellent musician and no
mean poetess: many beautiful verses from her pen were a joy to her family.
Whenever
an opportunity offered, Jim and Vassal would do transport riding: the nearest
rail-head in those days being Kimberley, which made this quite a lucrative occupation.
On one of these occasions Jim and Vassal, with a boy to help them, were returning
from Kimberley. Many weeks were passed on the road, the custom being to outspan
during the middle of the day and to allow the animals to feed and rest. Outspan
places could be found all the way along the road, always at a spot where there
was water, and sometimes trees, the cool shade of which would be greatly appreciated
by travellers. Towards sunset the animals were collected and inspanned and the
journey resumed, most of the travelling being done during the night. Jim and Vassall
had two wagons loaded with goods in their charge which they were taking up to
Ventersdorp. They had chanced upon a nice spot and had been resting in the shade
of the trees for several hours while the native lay sprawled on his back in the
blazing sun beating down on his upturned features. Jim shook himself, stretched
and stood up as he noticed how the shadows were lengthening.
(He had his
mother's large grey eyes and her firm chin: he was tremendously energetic and
ambitious and had a wonderfully high standard of duty and there certainly was
no such word as "can't" in his vocabulary. If a thing needed to be done it had
to be done and he was never satisfied unless he felt he had done it better than
anyone else could have done it. He was short for his age and lightly built, but
as brave and fearless as a lion.)
He walked over to where the black man
lay: "Hurry up Zwartboy," he said in a voice of command, although only twelve
years of age he was every inch the master. "It is time to inspan. Collect the
oxen." Zwartboy continued to sprawl where he lay and in an insulting voice said,
"Go and fetch them yourself." "I'll do nothing of the sort," flashed out Jim.
"It's your work and you've jolly well got to do it. Get up at once, it grows late."
"If you don't collect the cattle, I'll thrash you with my sjambok," replied the
native. "You won't dare touch me," cried Jim as with flashing eyes he stood and
faced the native. "We'll see," said the great hefty brute lifting himself into
a standing position with his sjambok in his hand. He then seized Jim by the scruff
of his neck and proceeded to thrash him.
"Don't beat him! Don't beat him!!
I'll fetch the cattle," shouted Vassall, suiting his actions to his words as he
ran off to where the cattle were grazing. But that great beast of a man took no
notice. Again and again the sjambok was raised, to fall with all the brute force
of which the man was capable on the thin body of the little lad. Not a sound from
those firmly closed lips, not a tear in those brave eyes. "You beat me now," spoke
Jim in a calm voice, "but one day when I'm a man, I'll kill you!" At that the
sjambok dropped. Jim lay in the wagon, his poor little body bruised and painful,
with murder in his heart, but fortunately for the native who thrashed him so cruelly,
he never came across him again. The journey was resumed and completed without
further adventure.
The long wagon road, winding like a thin ribbon for
miles over the far reaching plains of the Transvaal could be seen plainly on a
moonlight night. A wagon was outspanned and two boys lay asleep within the tent
of the wagon, snatching a little rest before resuming the journey in the early
morning hours. Jim and Vassall had sold a load of flour in Johannesburg and were
on their return journey to Ventersdorp with a considerable quantity of gold as
flour was an expensive item in those days. Jim, always a very light sleeper, woke.
He lay and listened, wondering what could have wakened him. Listening, he heard
the sound of a horse's hoofs as the rider galloped through the night. "Vassall!"
said Jim, giving him a shake, "wake up man, and listen." "Yes," came the sleepy
voice of Vassall, "I hear a horseman," and was preparing to resume his interrupted
slumber. "Vassall, you are not to go to sleep."
"Why, man, it's only some
fellow riding," said Vassall. "he's riding a big, powerful horse and I feel as
if we're being followed. Keep your wit's about you," whispered Jim as the horseman
brought his horse to an abrupt halt at the side of the wagon. The boys listened
breathlessly.
"I say, you fellows, wake up!" came a perfectly modulated,
cultured English voice. "What's wrong?" asked Vassall in as deep a tone as he
could command. "my wagon is stuck in a bog about a mile back." Just for a fraction
of a second the boys, in the kindness of their hearts, were prepared to get up
and lend a helping hand to a fellow traveller, when suddenly Jim breathed into
Vassall's ear, "Scotty Smith." "There's no bog near here and it hasn't rained
for a week: we are not getting out to help anybody," said Vassall.
As he
spoke he was pushing the long barrel of a gun through the tent of the wagon, where
it glittered ominously in the bright moonlight. The boys wanted the man to know
that they were armed and above all, they did not want him to know that there were
two mere boys alone in the wagon.
Without another word the stranger turned
his impatient horse, which the boys could see was a thing of beauty, as peeping
through the slits of the canvas, they watched the impatient champing of the animal
as it fretted to be off. As the sound of the beating hoofs died in the distance,
Jim said, "That's Scotty, alright. What an escape we've had!" "Yes, it must be
him though I've never seen him before," replied Vassall. "well," said Jim, "I'm
jolly glad we've seen him now. Did you hear what he did to Oom Jan last week?"
"No, tell me."
"Poor old Oom Jan was outspanned on his return journey with
heaps of money; the old man had taken a big load to Johannesburg, when up rides
Scotty, holds a pistol at the old chap and says 'Hand over your money!' The poor
old fellow with trembling fingers starts opening the wagon chest and say, 'Does
Mr Scotty want the notes as well?' 'Of course I want the notes,' answers Scotty,
who knew nothing about the notes and would have been quite satisfied with the
golden sovereigns which the old man was going to give him. So Scotty went off
with the notes and the gold!"
"What a shame! I do wish the police could
catch him." "What's the good of their catching him," said Jim, "He breaks jail
every time. I wonder who he really is! They say he comes from a very aristocratic
and noble English family."
They were up at dawn and reached home the following
afternoon. As they gathered around the tea table they told of their experience
with Scotty Smith. "What an escape you have had," said their mother, "I hear that
Scotty is most resourceful and has a very intelligent brain; our neighbours are
full of his latest exploits. It appears that there is an old Dutchman who does
not trust the banks and had between two and three hundred pounds in a bag which
he kept hidden somewhere in his house - this hiding place was a secret. One evening,
as the old man sat at his front door, smoking his pipe, he saw a horseman coming
towards him at a furious pace. The rider leapt from his horse, which was covered
in sweat, and said, in a breathless whisper, 'Scotty is after me; I've ridden
like the very devil! See,' producing a bag heavy with gold, 'See, he wants this,
please help me, hide me, hide it!'
"The old Dutchman was all sympathy at
once. 'Come, my friend, we'll hide it; we won't let Scotty get it,' said the old
chap as he hobbled into his house. 'We'll hide it where I hide mine.' He lifted
one of the stones with which the floor was flagged and there the greedy eyes of
the stranger beheld the old man's bag of gold and watched while his own bag of
gold was placed in the hole, the stone replaced and the spot strewn with a little
sand to prevent any sharp eyes being able to detect the fact that the stone could
be removed."
"Oh! Mother, how exciting!" exclaimed the boys, "What happened
then?"
"The stranger took his horse to the stable, rubbed him down, saw
that he had a plentiful supply of food and joined the family at their supper table.
'Now,' said the stranger, 'I'm expecting Scotty any minute. I feel it would be
unsafe for us both to sleep. You have no idea what a clever man Scotty is; he
will be sure to find this money. What I propose is that you sit up and watch until
midnight, then you wake me and I'll take the watch for the rest of the night.'
The old man agreed.
The stranger, after a hearty supper and several hours
of refreshing sleep, was awakened. 'It's midnight and your turn to keep watch.'
The stranger rose, and after waiting until he was certain the old man was asleep,
lifted the stone, took the bag of money, went out, saddled his horse and rode
off.
Next morning, when the old man woke he found that the stranger had
gone. Hurrying to the hiding place he lifted the stone - there was one bag but
on opening it, what was his agony to find it full of pieces of lead and small
stones, his precious bag of sovereigns gone!
"Of course the stranger was
Scotty," shouted both boys. "Yes you are right. It was Scotty who had thought
out a clever way to get the old man's money. On the other hand, I hear stories
of his wonderful kindness to people. He will rob a storekeeper of a whole roll
of flannelette or calico and sometimes a bag of sugar, and give these supplies
to a family in need. He is a strange mixture! Of course you know who he really
is?" "Yes, but it is such a secret we are afraid to breathe his name."
Six
years later his mother died and Jim's uncle (H.W. Struben - the founder of the
Rand) who had bought Tafelburg Hall from Mr Distin, offered his nephew a chance
of going down to the Colony to learn farming. Jim gladly accepted this offer.
He
had his first experience of a long train journey and arrived at Tafelberg Hall
on September6th, 1892. He was greatly impressed with the grand old house, its
large hall and many rooms; also the beautiful gardens with their shady walks and
lovely flowers.
As one of Mr Distin's sons was acting as manager, it was arranged
that the family should remain on some time, so Jim found himself in a home where
there were the dearest white-haired old lady and gentleman, Mr and Mrs Distin
and several young ladies.
CHAPTER
III
SHE
It
was mid-summer in South Africa and the little town of Cradock, situated in the
heart of the Karroo, almost surrounded by ironstone koppies, lay parched and baked
in the fierce rays of the semi-tropical sun. January was a cruel month for the
inhabitants of Cradock!
In Cross Street is a tiny cottage of interest,
named by Mrs Distin "Vine Cottage." Here she and her husband, the grandparents
of The Little Dane, spent the first months of their married life in 1848. In this
same cottage Olive Schreiner lived with her brothers in 1869. The cottage still
stands and is often visited by Olive Schreiner's admirers.
On either side
of the wide streets were rows of trees, growing on the edges of the open water
furrows. The shade which they cast was much appreciated by the pedestrians. There
was no park in Cradock in 1878 and groups of nurse girls could be seen in different
parts of the town, sitting with their precious charges under the shady trees.
Many
of the inhabitants had homes with lovely gardens. Mr and Mrs Flemmer
were not so fortunate. Their house was in the upper part of the town; in the last
street called Frere Street. Across the street were a few big
mimosa thorn trees and beyond the trees the ironstone koppies. A tall iron railing
enclosed a strip of ground in front of Mr Flemmer's house; at the back of the
house were two yards, the first flagged and separated from the second by a brick
wall, in which there was an ordinary wooden door. In the second yard were the
stables.
Mr Flemmer was able to indulge his youthful love of horses and
kept a racing stable, 'Meldrum' of Karroo fame being one of his 'favourites'.
Meldrum was often ridden by the youth and beauty of Cradock. Most ladies were
excellent horsewomen then. (Living in Cradock in this year 1934, is a white-haired
lady, a great grandmother, who well remembers many a thrilling canter on Meldrum.)
Beyond
the stables was a well from which water was lifted by a handpump, supplying both
the house and the stables; the water being conveyed in buckets by native servants.
It
seemed as if the long hot day would never end! The palpitating heat penetrated
closed doors and windows and made everyone wish that the cool South East wind
would spring up. "Oh! I'm so hot," was the fretful plaintive cry which was heard
throughout the day from Louie, the three year old little daughter of Mr and Mrs
Flemmer. "Yes dear," said her mother, "I know you are very hot, but you will feel
better when Sannie has changed your frock. She is going to take you out for a
walk, under the cool shady trees."
Louie was a thin little girl, small
for her age; her people said of her that she only grew after she was ten years
of age. She had black hair reaching to her neck, where it ended in slight curls;
she had solemn dark eyes and a fringe across her forehead.
During the summer
months her mother dressed her in the daintiest of muslin frocks. If the same consideration
had been given to her underwear she would not have suffered so acutely from the
heat; but unfortunately, the wearing of a flannel petticoat and thick homemade
calico stays was as inevitable as the laws of the Medes and Persians, so in spite
of her pretty muslin frocks, poor Louie could constantly be heard saying : "Oh
I am so hot!"
When her charge was dressed, the Kaffir nursemaid Sannie,
instead of going out of the front door to the cool shade of the trees, slipped
out the back way. On reaching the second yard she opened the door of a room in
which there was a quantity of hay. "Play in there like a good girl and don't dirty
your dress." Sannie closed the lower half of the door and sat down on an upturned
barrel, and was soon in conversation with one of the grooms.
Louie was
used to playing alone and quite able to entertain herself as her brother Jack
was only eighteen months old and too young as a companion. All would have been
well and Mrs Flemmer would never have known that her child's walk had begun and
ended in the hay-room if it had not been for a broken bottle concealed in the
hay. Louie, playing happily about was unaware of the hidden danger. As she played
she put her foot through the hay into the bottle, the sharp edge easily cutting
her thin little shoe and almost severing the small toe. (The mark remains to her
dying day: it has been of much interest to her children and will one day be shown
to that wonderful first grandson, Michael-jon.) The shriek of pain and terror
brought the nurse's pleasant afternoon to an abrupt end. She rushed in to find
Louie lying on the hay, her foot one mass of blood! Tenderly lifting her little
charge, she carried her back to the house. Mrs Flemmer, who was one of the most
kind hearted and gentle of women, with a very sympathetic nature, was greatly
shocked and distressed to see the state of her child. Sending the nurse running
for the doctor, she meantime removed shoe and sock. The old gentleman, Dr Fershen,
arrived on his pony and came in, sjambok in hand. Louie shrieked and was so frightened
she would not allow him to touch her. Lifting the sjambok he brought it down on
the table saying, "If you don't let me attend to your foot, I'll bring the sjambok
down on a very naughty little girl instead of the table."
The startled
child lay still while the foot was bandaged. For some time Louie had to be kept
very quiet. These were happy days for her as she had all the attention of her
devoted mother. Mrs Flemmer was a most unselfish little lady, giving her whole
life to her family. She taught Louie how to cut out pictures as for a scrap book
and these were arranged in gay order along the wall at the side of the cot. The
stories she told……….Louie would lie quietly for hours listening to the sound of
that dear voice.
"Please tell me about when you were a little girl." This
was her constant request and she did not mind how often she was told of the same
events - she just loved it all!!
When she was able to run about again the
heat was still very great and no doubt that was the reason for her next escapade:
She had an intense desire to cut her fringe. It was certainly not for any desire
of improving her looks; she was too young for that. The strong North wind which
was blowing seemed to whisper to her that now was her chance because the wind
would blow her hair away and nobody would know! She longed to feel the scissors
cutting through her hair. Securing a pair of scissors and a piece of paper, the
little maid went into the passage, carefully closing all the doors.
She
sat herself down with her back against the big front door. Taking a tuft of fringe
between her small fingers she cut,……. then carefully wrapped the hair in a bit
of paper. This she pushed under the door for the wind to blow it away. Again the
delicious sensation of feeling the scissors cutting….there was not much fringe
left when the door opened……there stood her mother. "Oh Louie, you naughty little
girl, what a fright you have made of yourself !"
Mrs Flemmer's kind blue
eyes were very sorrowful as she led her little daughter to her bedroom, where
she trimmed and cut the hair as best she could, lecturing and scolding a very
sad Louie who could not find words to explain why she cut her hair and that she
had no intention of being naughty. For a long time she had to wear a circular
comb which took all the hair from her forehead.
A few weeks later Louie
came rushing into the house, to be seized by her father who hugged and kissed
her and tossed her into the air in his excitement, saying "Louie, come and see
what a lovely surprise Mother has for you." He carried her into her mother's room
where she was shown a new baby brother. "His name is going to be Christian
and he will be the fourth of that name," said her father, not meaning this information
for the child so much as taking pride in the significance of the descent, and
thinking of his grandfather, Christian Flemmer whose munificence had helped to
save Denmark so many years ago.
Unfortunately Louie's maternal instinct
was so highly developed that her one idea was to hold the darling baby. All the
explanations of her mother and the nurse were of no avail; she was carried out
kicking and crying, saying, "I want to hold him, I do want to hold him." Every
time she came into the room there was trouble. "Darling," said her mother, "he
is so tiny and tender you can't hold him." "But I'll be so careful; I do want
to hold him."
When the baby was three days old, Louie was awakened by the
wonderful news that it was her birthday - she was four years old. "Mother says
you must come to her as soon as you are dressed. She has a lovely surprise for
you," said Louie's aunt. The excited child could hardly wait to be dressed and
bursting into her mother's room, she was held in those dear arms and given sweet
birthday wishes. "Now Louie, see what I've got for you. A baby for your very own."
Mrs Flemmer placed a beautiful baby doll in her little daughter's arms.
The
child's joy was pretty to see. She hugged the doll and covered its face with kisses.
It was indeed a beautiful birthday present, with its long robes like baby brother's,
its pretty little face framed by the soft ruffles of its bonnet. On its forehead
a little tuft of golden hair just peeped from beneath the bonnet. Joy swelled
her little heart! "Oh, Mammie! Thank you so very much. It's so lovely to have
a baby of my own, my very own." For the next few days the precious doll was never
let out of her arms. She took no notice whatever of the baby now, for which everyone
was thankful, and the peace thus secured might have continued right through Mrs
Flemmer's convalescence had it not been for the indiscretion of the nurse. One
day Louie came into her mother's room, the doll in her arms as usual. The nurse
sitting on a chair at the foot of the bed with nothing to do, thought to amuse
herself and please the child; "Let me hold your baby, Louie," she said, "I want
to see if it is quite well. Perhaps it needs a dose of castor oil."
Very
seriously Louie placed the doll in the nurse's arms and looked on with great pride
to see her doll being held just like her baby brother. "Oh! Nurse isn't it a lovely
baby? I do love it so much." "Yes," said Nurse, "it is a lovely baby and so good."
Oh! Fatal moment when the nurse's fingers idly strayed to the ribbons of the bonnet.
Horrors! The doll's head was as bald as a billiard ball, the only hair being the
golden tuft!
This was a thing of beauty while the bonnet was on, now it
seemed to exaggerate the baldness. With a piercing shriek Louie dashed forward,
seized her beloved doll by its skirts and flung it with all her baby strength
into a far corner of the room. There it lay, fortunately not broken. Louie stamped
her feet and shrieked and screamed in a panic of rage and sorrow. The nurse recovered
the doll and replaced the bonnet. "Come, Louie," she said, "be a good girl, see,
your baby is wanting you. Such a pretty baby!"
But Louie could not forget
the hideous bald head; she seemed to see it through the ruffles on the bonnet.
Flinging herself into her mother's arms, she wept bitterly, saying between her
sobs, "I hate it! Take it away!! I hate it!!!"
Mrs Flemmer removed the
covering from the baby, saying, "See Louie, my baby hasn't a hair on his head:
all babies have bald heads. You must not be so unkind to your baby. You must love
it even though it is bald." But Louie refused to be comforted and continued to
sob so distressfully that Mrs Flemmer asked her sister to hurry out and buy a
doll with lots of hair. It was only when Louie held the new doll in her arms that
her sobbing ceased. The bald headed doll was put away, and months afterwards was
a great joy to Louie, when she was able to love it in spite of its bald head.
Louie's
grandfather, Mr Distin, was laid up in his daughter's house with rheumatism and
it was the little girl's delight to arrange all her dolls on the floor beside
his couch. "See what I've got for you, my dear," said her grandfather, handing
her a parcel. "Oh! What is it Grandpa? Can I open it?" "Yes, dear, it's for you."
Whereupon Louie removed its wrappings and there was a lovely big black doll. "OH!
Grandpa, what a funny doll!" "She is going to be your nursemaid; her name is Dinah.
We will ask Mamma to make her a red dress with a white apron and she must wear
a red 'doek'."
Louie danced about in great glee with her new possession.
She would play for hours beside her grandfather's couch and he never wearied of
her childish prattle. Often in those childhood days she would be conscious of
a wonderful rush of love and joy in her little heart; especially did her heart
swell with love for her mother. Some of the members of the family thought her
a naughty spoilt child, because she wanted always to be with her mother and made
such great demands on her mother's time, who was a very busy little woman with
her growing family.
Louie always preferred being with her mother to going
to a party. Living almost next door was her girl friend, Lily Ziervogel, who was
one year her senior and her greatest friend. It was a sore trial to Lily that
Louie would always insist that they should play in her home; nothing in the world
would induce Louie to play at Lily's home.
"I am going to have my birthday
party tomorrow," said Lily, "and Louie you must promise me that you will come."
After a great deal of coaxing and persuading from both Mrs Flemmer and Lily, a
reluctant promise was extracted from Louie. But the next afternoon, when all Lily's
guests were assembled in the dining room, there was no Louie. Lily felt that she
could not have her party without her greatest friend, so, leaving her small guests,
she dashed off to Louie's home, where she found Mrs Flemmer trying to induce her
small daughter to keep her promise of the day before. It seemed easier for Louie
to go now that Lily was with her, so, hand in hand, the two girls set off. Lily
led her friend up to her mother. Louie had a confused idea of crowds of little
girls, of feeling utterly bewildered and lost. She then realised that she was
being spoken to, a voice saying, "How could your mother send you to a picnic in
such a pretty new frock?" This was too much for Louie who turned and fled, never
stopping till she fell sobbing into her mother's arms. OH! Those dear arms, why
did anyone ever coax her away?
One day as Mr Flemmer came in from his Office,
his wife Said, "Ludvig, please go and talk to Jack, he is being so naughty, his
nurse cannot pacify him." Mr Flemmer went to the nursery where he found his little
three-year old Jack weeping bitterly. He took the child in his arms and sitting
down with him said, "My little son, you must not cry like this! You are growing
such a big man and big men don't cry. I don't like you to cry, I love you." "You
don't," came the angry baby tones, "you let me walk to the races on my foots."
"Oh, what a shame," said his father, "Mammie meant you all to stay at home with
Sannie. It was very naughty of her to take you to the races. But never mind, stop
crying and next time there are races, I'll see that you go in the carriage with
mother."
Thus comforted the little boy allowed himself to be put to bed.
Mrs Flemmer was horrified when she heard that the children had walked out to the
race course, a distance of nearly three miles, on a dusty road and during the
heat of the day. Although the native nurses are devoted to their charges and very
kind, they cannot always be trusted.
Eighteen months later, in 1879,
came the news that there was trouble in Basutoland. There were many tear-dimmed
eyes and aching hearts in Cradock when it was known that the Cradock Volunteer
Corps had received orders to march north. Mr Flemmer was the Captain.
Louie
and Jack were delighted to see their father in his smart dark blue uniform and
white helmet, from which waved a huge black tuft, like a horse's tail. The day
came when, to the sound of a beating drum and that heart-stirring martial music,
the Volunteers "fell-in" on Cradock Market Square. Mr Flemmer tore himself from
the arms of his weeping wife. It seemed as if her heart would break but even in
her sorrow, the mother had thought for her children, and what was her distress
when, on enquiring for them, she was told that they were at the end of the lane,
with their nursemaid Sannie, watching the soldiers march past. They were sent
for. The children had never seen their mother weep, her bright smile and endearing
words had been the sunshine of their lives. They were greatly distressed. This
was Louie's first conscious sorrow. She flung herself into her mother's arms and
with loving words and kisses begged her to stop crying. "Oh! Mammie, don't cry
so," she pleaded, "I'll take care of you till father comes back."
They
wept together. "See how wet your hankie is, Mammie?" said Louie, and blinded by
her tears, she pushed a chair to the big old-fashioned wardrobe, climbed up, opened
a drawer and produced a fresh handkerchief. Jack looked on with wonder in his
big blue eyes. Suddenly the situation dawned on him and he knew that his little
mother, who was all his world, was crying…..yes, crying because his daddy had
gone away with the soldiers. In a voice of command he shouted: "Send Sannie to
fetch him back! Send Sannie to fetch him back!"
The picture which his words
conjured up of the little nursemaid calling a soldier from his duty because his
wife wept, was so sweet and simple, that it brought a smile, through her tears,
as she gathered her son in her arms, and pressed his manly body to her sad heart.
The brave little mother tried to put her sorrow aside for the sake of her children.
But
dark days were in store for her, days of anxiety and tribulation. Her third son,
Willie, was born and he was so delicate that had it not been
for her grandmother, Mrs Distin, he would not have lived. He grew to be a fine
strong little chap, but died under tragic circumstances when he was eighteen months
old. To add to Mrs Flemmer's troubles, while the new baby was still very delicate,
the ex-baby, Christian, got typhoid fever.
Then came
the news that the war was successfully over and her husband was on his way home!
Her trouble seemed small to Mrs Flemmer when she pictured the joy of reunion….
to have her dear husband safely back. Days of watching and longing, days of longing
and watching, and then a horseman arrived in Cradock ahead of the marching army
with news for Mrs Flemmer. The buggy in which her husband was travelling had been
overturned, Mr Flemmer had been thrown out, and his leg broken. With wonderful
courage and devotion, his men had carried him back to the Field Hospital, on an
improvised stretcher, walking for miles over rough broken country. There he lay
for weeks with his leg in plaster-of-paris. Mrs Flemmer's brother went to Basutoland
with spring wagon, drawn by horses and brought him home.
In spite of all
her troubles and sorrows, her mother found time to teach Louie to crochet. She
worked a long yellow watch chain for her father, on which he was to hang his watch
at the head of his bed. With great importance and interest she watched her mother
place the gift in an envelope, to be sent by the first opportunity to her father.
On his return he did not forget to make much of his little daughter for her industry.
When
the spring wagon arrived in Cradock and drew up at the front door of Mr Flemmer's
house, he was carried in by several men and laid on the floor of the drawing-
room. He was greatly changed in appearance, having grown a beard. Seeing him on
the floor, frightened the children to such and extent that they refused to go
near him. He was amused to see little faces peeping at him from the door. Reaching
for his stick, he gave his leg a tap, the plaster-of-paris emitting a hollow noise.
The children were greatly intrigued, approaching closer at every bang. Little
hands gingerly laid on the injured leg, were hastily withdrawn as they gazed at
their father with wide eyes of wonderment. Thereafter one could hear them tearing
through the house shouting, ""It's my turn to bang Daddy's leg. It's my turn."
Thus
they learned to know and love the father they had forgotten.
When Christian,
who was convalescent from his typhoid fever, was placed on a sofa and given Osborne
biscuits to eat, Louie and Jack watched him enviously. "I know what we will do
to get some," said Jack, "We'll pretend to be his little dogs." "Yes," said Louie,
"We'll crawl round the sofa on our hands and knees and bark." Christian was much
amused by the caperings of the "little dogs" and threw them biscuits, which they
readily gobbled up.
One day Mrs Flemmer came into the room where Louie
and Lily Ziervogel were playing with their dolls. "Louie," said her mother, "I
want you to run to the shop at the end of the lane, and buy some condensed milk.
Take Lily with you and don't be long." "Come along, Lily," said Louie and the
two friends set off, hand in hand.
As they were crossing the second yard,
they were attracted by the appearance of the pump, which was undergoing repairs.
The workmen were away as it was their dinner hour and their tools lay scattered
about in much confusion.
"I wonder what they are doing to the pump," said
Lily. "See, Lily, they have taken off the handle," said Louie, and the children
continued their examination, Louie standing on a plank the better to see the strange
changes in the pump. All unconscious of her danger she was standing on a plank
which was covering the mouth of the well, a well thirty feet deep, with sixteen
feet of water!
Suddenly the plank gave way…..instinctively Louie stretched
out her arms, and so hung suspended in the mouth of the well, with the greedy
black water below waiting for those small arms to tire. A moment before she was
a bright, happy child, standing in the sunshine, and now! - "Help!" screamed Lily
in a frenzy of misery as she ran back and forth. "Louie is falling into the well!
Help! Help!" She ran towards the house but was so impressed with her friend's
danger that she could not bear to lose sight of her and would come running back,
calling to Louie in a voice of misery, "Oh, Louie! What shall I do, what shall
I do?"
The seconds were growing into minutes, and Louie was becoming tired,
with the sharp pain across her shoulders and smarting bruises where the rough
masonry was pressing on her arms, but there were no tears in those dark eyes which
saw death so close. She was biting her lips and her small face was contorted with
the agony of the struggle. On one of the occasions when Lily returned to her,
she managed to gasp out, "Can't hold any longer. So tired. Am falling in…."
This
was too much for Lily; her little friend could not fall into the dreadful well
and so spurred to definite action, she stooped down, taking hold of Louie's hand
she pulled and, with a supreme effort dragged her to safety. Louie lay on the
ground at the side of the well, dizzy and exhausted, her clothes torn and her
arms bruised.
Now that she was safe, Lily had no hesitation about leaving
her and swiftly running, her feet carried her to the house to tell the news of
their terrible experience.
Mr Flemmer was in the act of opening his front
door, having just arrived from his office, and was looking forward to his dinner.
He had a healthy appetite, a Danish trait, and his wife was an excellent cook.
As he walked in to the passage he heard Lily's screams. Between her sobs she tried
to tell them what had taken place, but it was impossible to follow what she was
saying. Only two words were clear, "Louie" and "Well". They were enough for Louie's
parents; the whole family, led by Lily and followed by the servants, arrived at
the well. Picking up Louie's little huddled figure, Mr Flemmer carried her back
to the house. Placing her in his own special arm-chair, he sat down opposite and
proceeded to lecture and scold her. "What have you been doing, you naughty girl?"
and not waiting for a reply continued "You deserve a whipping; how dare you go
near the well?"
This, instead of the love and sympathy she had expected,
was too much for Louie; feeling that her father was a very cruel man, she rushed
to her mother and, clutching hold of her, began to sob.
"There now, Louie
dear, father is not really angry." "Not really angry," shouted Mr Flemmer, "She
deserves to be severely punished for going near the well!" "But, Father," said
Louie, lifting her tearstained face, "I didn't mean to be naughty, I didn't know
about the well!"
Realising that his anxiety and fright might be causing
him to be too severe, he left the room. Mrs Flemmer and Lily bathed the bruises
and changed Louie's clothes. Thank God for our mothers!
Dr Fershen, the
village doctor, a fine old gentleman with snow white hair who was in constant
attendance on Mrs Flemmer or one of her children, was very sorry for the poor
little lady, and she very much appreciated his sympathy. When Louie and Jack had
been laid up with rheumatic fever, the doctor insisted that Mr Flemmer should
send his family to the coast, as it was essential for the children to have sea
bathing.
The railway line only came to Cradock during the following year,
1881, so it was necessary for the party to travel by wagon. Charles Anthony, a
very fine coloured man, a descendant of the slaves, was engaged to drive Mrs Flemmer,
her four children (Louie and her three little brothers) and aunt of Mrs Flemmer's
and her niece, and the nursemaid Sannie, to the Kowie. Great were the preparations
and great the excitement of Louie and Jack for they were going to have their first
sight of the sea, of which they had been told such wonderful stories.
After
several days spent on the road and nights in wayside inns, they arrived at their
destination. "Let us go and inspect the beach and find a nice place for bathing,"
said Mrs Flemmer to her aunt. They set out. People who have grown up in the Karroo
are extremely ignorant of the sea. "I don't like those breakers," said Aunt Annie.
"No," said Mrs Flemmer "and I don't like so many people. Perhaps we can find a
quieter place."
The ladies strolled along the beach and, walking for some
distance came upon a spot which charmed them both. "I wonder no one is bathing
in this lovely spot," said Aunt Annie. "Isn't it beautiful," said Mrs Flemmer,
"See how calm it is and so private, not a soul in sight." They gazed at the calm
blue water lapping a small stretch of beach and then hurried back to the hotel
to fetch the children and give them their first dip in the sea.
Jack was
terrified! "Come along, Jack," said his mother. "No, I don't like it; it is too
big," replied Jack. "Come," coaxed his mother, "Aunt Annie and I will hold your
two hands and you won't be afraid." So saying, Mrs Flemmer and her aunt took hold
of the little boy by force and led him into the water. As they were trying to
submerge his body, he called out "Oh! God, save me! Oh, God save me!" It was too
much for his tender hearted mother. She decided to allow him to play in the little
pools which were left by the tide along the shore.
One day Jack was playing
in the pools; Sannie, in charge of the youngest children, sat on the beach watching
the rest of the party, who were enjoying the bathing. Suddenly the sea came towards
them like a huge mountain. "It is the tide," shouted Aunt Annie, "All clasp hands
and we must run for our lives!" They were swept onto the beach - the tide almost
reached Sannie and her charges. As they picked themselves up and turned to watch
the receding water, what was their horror and dismay to see a little head far
out, bobbing about in the waves.
"Jack, Jack!" they all shouted. They knew
that Jack was being carried out to sea and no one there to save him. Before Mrs
Flemmer's cry of agnoized distress had left her lips she was watching Sannie,
the little black nursemaid, plunge into the boiling surf, clothes and all, going
to what seemed certain death. Will she reach him in time? Those were moments of
cruel uncertainty. She has got him! Here she comes, carrying him in her arms,
treading with difficulty through the water, her clothes heavy and soaked. Brave
little Sannie, you deserve well of life! One wonders whether she was adequately
rewarded for so noble and self sacrificing a deed!
Jack was safe and sound
in his mother's arms, too terrified to cry, scratched and bleeding in several
places. "We have had such an experience this morning," said Aunt Annie to her
neighbour at dinner and she proceeded to relate what had happened. "My dear lady,"
said the astonished man, "You don't mean to tell me you were bathing……." mentioning
the spot. "Good heavens! The sea there is deep enough to sink a ship! The coast
is very dangerous. You say you did not like the breakers but they were your only
safety. Where the sea is breaking on the rocks you are safe; where it lies so
calm it is because of the great depth. It is indeed a miracle that you are not
all lying at the bottom of your calm sea!"
No more sea bathing for Mrs
Flemmer. She employed native women to carry the sea water to the Hotel and in
this way they got their sea bathing!
Louie's grandmother, little Betty
of the black curly hair, often stayed in the house of her son, Louie's father.
To the great delight of the children she would sit with her knitting, her hands
never idle, and tell them about Denmark and lovely Danish fairy-tales. The one
they loved best was about the Danish twins - "Florence and Florentina."
"Come,
Jack and Christian," said Louie, arranging her brothers on stools at her grandmother's
feet, "and here is a stool for Lily; she is anxious to hear about 'Florence and
Florentina'. Please, Grandma, will you begin?"
The old lady smiled at them,
no spectacles for those bright eyes and hardly any grey in her pretty black hair
which waved on each side of her forehead. "Yes, dear, I'll begin - I am surprised
that you are not tired of the story of
Florence
and Florentina were twins and on their seventh birthday, their mother gave them
a basket of cakes and sweets and as a treat allowed them to go down to the sea
for the afternoon. But you must not go out in the boat, she said. There is much
sea in Denmark; hardly any land and everyone learns to swim and to row. The children
promised to be good and to come home in good time.
At sunset they stood
and watched the sea, so calm and beautiful was the lovely evening. 'Oh! How I
wish we could go on the sea,' said Florence and immediately there appeared a boat
with a little old woman in it. 'Come my dears and I will take you for a nice row,'
she said. 'We won't go very far,' said Florentina as they climbed into the boat.
Away
they sped. It felt so lovely to be in the boat, skimming over the water. But it
was getting late and they remembered their promise to their mother. 'Please will
you turn back now?' they begged the old woman. 'Oh no!' she said, 'you are my
little children now.' They begged and they pleaded and then wept, but the old
woman rowed on and on, until they reached land, and then she walked so quickly
that they stumbled and fell as they tried to keep up with her. At last they reached
her funny little house. She gave them a piece of dry bread and a mug of water
for their supper and they lay down on the bare ground and cried themselves to
sleep.
The next morning she woke them early with more dry bread and water.
Then she showed them a bag of peas and beans all mixed and said, 'You must separate
these peas and beans and if when I come home tonight you have not finished, you
will be soundly whipped and put to bed without any supper.' So saying she left
them.
They sat and cried and cried. Presently they heard a noise and on
looking up they saw a little dove flying against the window, trying to get in.
Up jumped Florentine and opened the window. This was a fairy dove and could talk.
In he flew and hopped about on the table.
'What is the matter, little ones?
Why are you crying so?' 'Oh! See,' they said, 'we have to separate all these beans
and peas. We cannot do it and if it is not done the old woman is going to whip
us and put us to bed without any supper.'
'Well,' said the dove, 'if
you sit and cry it will never be done. Let us set to work. I will help you and
I will eat some of the peas and take some home to my children. In this way we
will have the work done when the old woman returns.'
They set to work in
real earnest and at sunset the task was completed. The dove flew away and the
children waited for the old woman's return. When she came she was very pleased,
saying, 'You have been good children,' and gave them their supper and again they
cried themselves to sleep as they thought of their mother and father and their
dear little white beds at home.
The next morning the old woman put out
two bags of mixed beans and peas, saying, 'Now mind, a good whipping and no supper
if these beans and peas are not in separate bags by tonight.' Off she went. The
two children looked at the bags in dismay. 'Even if the dove does come again,
I am sure we can never do two bags,' said Florence.
They watched the window
and great was their joy to see the little dove flying swiftly to them. They welcomed
it with grateful hearts 'See,' they both cried, 'she has left us all this to do.
We shall never be able to finish tonight!' 'No,' said the dove, 'it is too much,
we must run away. Get a bottle of water and a stick and follow me as fast as you
can. You must keep looking back and if you see the old woman coming you must tell
me.'
They set off, the little dove flying ahead to show them the way and
the two children following as fast as they could. By-and-bye Florence said, 'Oh!
I see the old woman coming!' 'Throw the stick over your shoulder,' said the dove.
She did so and immediately there was a dense forest behind them and the old woman
had to go home to fetch her axe to chop a path for herself through the thick trees.
On the little dove flew and the children followed as fast as they could. Then
Florence again said, 'I see the old woman coming!' 'Pour the water out of the
bottle over your shoulder,' said the dove. She did so and there was a lake and
the old woman had to go home to fetch her boat and row across the lake.
After
a while Florentina shouted, 'Oh! I see the old woman coming!' 'Throw the bottle
over your shoulder,' said the little dove. This was done and there was a big glass
mountain behind them and the old woman had to go home to fetch her snow shoes
in order to climb the glass mountain. On and on flew the little dove, the children
following as fast as they could. At last, just as the sun was setting and their
father and mother were sitting down to their supper, the children dashed into
their home. Shouting and weeping for joy, they fell into their parents' arms and
told their experiences.
The little dove was given a good feed and then
it flew away to its home."
"Oh!
Thank you so much Grandmama, it is a lovely story. Now I am going to do my knitting.
Lily, did you know I could knit? Yes Grandmama is teaching me. I am going to knit
a pair of socks for my doll and then a pair for Baby," said the ambitious little
girl, as she sat down beside her grandmother with her knitting.
"I do wish
it wasn't Sunday tomorrow; I hate Sundays," said Louie. "My dear," said her grandmother,
"that is very wicked of you, you should love Sunday. Tell me why you hate it?"
"Because Mother goes to Church and stays away such a long time; I hate her to
go away," was the reply. "I am afraid you are a very naughty girl, always wanting
your mother," said the old lady.
On Sunday the elder members of the family
set off for the morning service. A long dreary time it was for Louie. At last
she thought, "I am sure mother must be coming now, I'll just go into the street
and meet her." When Louie reached the front gate she found it locked! As if bolts
and bars could stop her from going to her beloved mother! She looked at the rails;
the space between looked quite big enough for her little body. Taking hold of
two of the rails with her hands, she tried to push her head between them. Instead
of it going through, it stuck! She could not draw it back! Her screams of pain
and fright brought the servants to the scene. They tried to push her through,
or pull her back, but in vain. The situation was too awful! "Will they ever be
able to get me out?" thought Louie, "Perhaps I'll have to spend the rest of my
life fixed between two bars! What will mother think when she finds me like this?"……
"I
wonder what all those people are doing in front of our house," said Mr Flemmer
as he turned into Frere Street and watched the increasing crowd. "I don't know,
I locked the gate, here is the key. I did not want the children to run about the
street. Oh, dear!" exclaimed poor Mrs Flemmer, "it would have been better to have
left the gate open."
There was Louie presenting a most fearsome sight,
her face red and swollen with crying. Each of her family felt quite sure that
he/she knew just how to get her out, but at last her father exclaimed, "It is
useless, we must have the blacksmith, I'll go for him myself. Being Sunday he
may not come unless he is made to realise the seriousness of the situation."
Mr
Flemmer soon returned with the smith and his tools. The iron railing was sawn
through while Mrs Flemmer held Louie, giving her all the assurance and comfort
she could. At last the task was completed and the poor child freed!
A few
days later a little native child, seeing a toy lying within the rails, tried to
creep through and got stuck in the same way that Louie had. Mrs Flemmer was wondering
what to do when a passing native woman came up. Pushing the child's shoulders
through, it's body easily followed. "How stupid the English are," she said, "where
the head will go the body will follow."
There was great excitement in Cradock
in the year 1881, when the railway was opened. "Come along, Jack and Louie," said
their father one day. "We are going down to the station to see the first train
to arrive in Cradock." "Oh! Father, how exciting," said Louie, 'what does it look
like?" "Wait till you get there my dear, and you will see."
Jack and Louie
chattered all the way to the station about the wonderful train they were going
to see. Arrived on the improvised platform, they clung to their father's hand
as the train came roaring, clanking and whistling into the station.
Their
father answered their many childish questions and gave them the thrill of their
lives as he showed them all the compartments of the box coaches, explaining to
them that one had to carry one's own basket of food, to be used between the different
stations where meals would be supplied. "How does it go?" asked Jack. "Come along
and I will show you," said his father and taking them along to the engine he asked
the driver to open his furnace. The children were terrified to see the roaring
inferno and Louie begged her father to take her away.
"The Engineers are
now building the line to Tafelberg," said Mr Flemmer, "and we will soon be able
to go by train to see your Grannie, instead of going by cart and getting so tired
with the long drive." "Oh! Father! Will you take me in the train with you?" asked
Louie. "I expect I will," answered her father, "if you don't fall into wells or
get your head stuck between iron rails again." "No father, I promise you I won't;
I should love to go in the train with you to Tafelberg."
The following
year Louie and her father, with the engineer were in the first train to run from
Cradock to Tafelberg, a journey of fifty miles. They travelled in an open truck
and Mr Flemmer carried a pass, a blank card from a pack of playing cards - on
which was written, "Pass Mr Flemmer and party." This unique ticket is still treasured
by Louie as a memento of her first railway journey.
She spent two weeks
with her grandparents at Tafelberg hall, the home where her mother passed her
childhood, and was very happy playing with cousins of her own age. Then there
were two happy weeks with an aunt at Plaat River, five miles from Tafelberg, the
dear little house her mother had been so sad to leave many years before, when
she and her husband had gone to Steynsberg to take care of his mother. Louie loved
the farm life and two years later, when her father decided, for business reasons
to leave Cradock and return to Plaat River, she was wild with excitement.
"Father,"
she exclaimed, "I want you please to give me a little calf." "Yes certainly,"
was the reply, "but you must first have a name for it." "I have one already, I
will call it 'Buttercup'." Many years later the progeny of 'Buttercup' helped
Louie buy her trousseau.
The family had been increased by two
sisters and a brother when the move to Plaat River was
made. The children loved the wild, free farm life - the old Dutch house with its
mud walls, three feet thick, and its thatched roof. In front of the house was
a water furrow planted with trees, and beyond, a big garden with fruit and vegetables.
They found the house rather small and Mr Flemmer made arrangements for a bathroom
which, though primitive and unique, was very satisfactory. Under the trees a canvas
structure was set up, in the roof of which was a tank. It was filled with water
from the furrow. By pulling a string a torrent of water was released and one had
a shower bath.
A tutor was engaged for Jack and Christian while Louie did
her lessons with her mother. She proved herself to be very helpful with the children.
One day Mrs Flemmer said, "Louie, I am going to be very busy and I want you to
take charge of Claude. It is too hot for you to go out and I don't want father
to be disturbed as he is reading his paper so take baby to your room and keep
him amused."
Louie walked off proudly carrying Claude, a lovely boy a year
old, with rosy cheeks, blue eyes and fair hair. She was devoted to this baby brother
and nothing pleased her more than being put in charge of him. All through the
long afternoon she exerted herself for his amusement but at last she came to the
end of her resources and he was fretful. She had seen grown-up people tossing
him in the air, and remembering how much he loved it, she did the same. Each time
she threw him up he would gurgle and shout with delight. He was thrown higher
and higher and then, Louie's heart seemed to stand still; she realised that she
had thrown him too high! He was falling beyond her reach and would land on the
hard clay floor. With a desperate effort she managed to lean far back, grabbing
him by his clothes, she drew him into her arms and collapsed on the floor with
a sharp pain in her back. Putting Claude down she lay on her bed, feeling very
distressed and frightened. Vowing to herself in her childish way that as long
as she lived she would never toss a baby again, she decided not to tell her mother
anything about the afternoon's experience. Whenever she felt the pain her conscience
pricked her, but still she did not tell, and so the months passed on.
One
afternoon a carriage drew up at the front door. The children ran out in great
excitement to find Mr Distin there. "Hello Grandfather!" called Jack, while Louie
ran off to tell her mother of his arrival. "Now, my little man, have you learned
to ride?" he asked Jack. "Oh, yes," replied the boy, "Father lets me go on his
pony every day when he comes home and I ride to the stable." "Splendid," said
grandpa, "but now run away, my dears, while I talk to your mother."
When
they were alone, he turned to his daughter. "Don't look so worried, my dear, I
have only good news for you. I have decided to have a Government farm School.
There are my three orphan grandchildren, and my own little
daughter, but to have a Government Grant, there must be five children, so if you
will allow Louie to come to us, we shall be very pleased, and by so doing, you
enable me to obtain Government assistance."
"Thank you very much Papa,"
said Mrs Flemmer, "I will gladly accept your offer as I am very worried about
Louie's schooling. I am unable to give her the time she requires."
"Well,
that is settled, my dear," he replied, "the governess will arrive after Christmas,
and that gives you plenty of time to get Louie ready."
"Come along, Louie
and Christian," shouted Jack, "Father says they are going to thrash the wheat
and we can go and watch." The children stood all day greatly interested in the
process. The thrashing floor was a piece of ground enclosed by flat stones standing
on end, forming a circle. This area was swept, beaten and watered, until it was
as smooth and clean as a piece of glass. Bundles of wheat were scattered over
the floor and a number of horses driven in and chased round and round, their tramping
feet breaking up the ears of corn. The children were fascinated and greatly intrigued
with the men who wielded the long whip. He would flick a horse here and there,
always keeping up the pace and not allowing any of the horses to be idle. Then
came the winnowing. How they loved watching the straw being lifted on the long
forks and tossed in the air to be blown away where it fell into a heap a little
distance off, while the grain fell on the floor. What games they played in the
straw which rose as high and big as a house.
"Louie, why are you lying
there so still?" asked Jack as he came upon her in a quiet corner to which she
had crept in order to be alone. "My back is hurting me so. Help me up, I am going
straight home to tell Mama about it." At last the confession was made, and Louie's
mind was much relieved, though her elders had not been nearly so concerned as
she had expected them to be. "I think you are just suffering growing pains," said
her father.
Christmas came and went and the preparations for school kept
Mrs Flemmer busy. Louie was very proud of the little trunk her father bought her
and which was used for her journeys to school.
When school had started,
every Sunday afternoon saw the cape cart inspanned and the entire family set off
to take Louie to school at Tafelberg Hall. She was not very fond of her school
work but loved her music lessons. On Friday afternoons the family arrived to take
her home. Mrs Flemmer was very happy to feel that Louie was being educated and
yet able to spend her week-ends at home.
One day the sound of a cart drawing
up at the front door sent Jack running to see who had come. "Mother, it is Auntie,"
he shouted as he brought the visitor in. "How nice of you to come and see us,"
said Mrs Flemmer embracing her sister, "You are just in time for tea. Come along,
we are all in the dining room." "How is Louie?" asked Mr Flemmer. "Oh! She is
lying on the broad of her back and can't walk. This is what I came to tell you;
she can't go to school."
"Jack," said Mr Flemmer, without waiting for further
details, "run out my boy, and tell Piet to inspan as quickly as possible, and
when we've finished tea, we will take mother with us and fetch Louie."
The
drive was agony for Louie. The next day she and her mother left by train for Cradock,
where, after examination the doctor said she was suffering from curvature of the
spine. "She cannot go back to school; in fact, she must lie down all the time,"
he said. "By-and-bye I will get a surgical jacket for her and then she will be
able to move about again."
The family were greatly distressed on hearing
the doctor's verdict. Mrs Flemmer arranged a small narrow bed in the sitting room
where Louie lay all day. What a blessing it was that a good, kind uncle came to
see her! "You poor child," he exclaimed, " You must be dreadfully hot lying on
that bed! I'll send you one of my cane chairs."
True to his word, the next
day Louie was transferred to the cool comfortable cane lounge chair, where she
was forced to spend a long weary year. Her eyes were affected and ached so continuously
that she was unable to read; and her arm too ached badly, so she was unable to
knit. Her mother's love and devotion were all her comfort, and her religious teaching
had been such that the child had no fear of death, for death was heaven, a place
where there was no pain, only peace and beauty. She used to long to die. Many
a night when she dropped off to sleep she was quite sure that God would send one
of his beautiful angels to take her to that "Better Land" and in the morning when
she awoke she would look round at the old familiar bedroom with a feeling of disappointment.
She loved her mother to read, but that little woman's bust fingers could not be
spared from her many tasks. She would bring her sewing and sit by Louie's chair
and tell her lovely stories, or they would chat away by the hour. Never once was
there any reproach or blame for this trouble which Louie had brought upon herself.
The
three youngest children were a great amusement to the little invalid. She would
tell them stories and taught the little sisters their letters. She still loved
her dolls, her favourite being a tiny china doll about three inches long with
china limbs which were jointed. It was kept in a blue box with all the wonderful
and beautiful clothes her mother's busy fingers still found time to make for her.
She
enjoyed seeing her relations from Tafelberg Hall. They were all kind and so good
to her and would always read a chapter from the book which she kept beside her
in readiness. "Louie," said an aunt who was only two years her senior, "I had
such a lovely dream about you last night. I dreamed that you were grown up; that
you were quite strong and well and always dressed in grey, and everybody loved
you." A wonderful impression that dream made on Louie - she has always been grateful
to her aunt for remembering it and telling it to her.
"I have such a lovely
piece of news for you, Louie," said her mother, coming into the room with an open
letter in her hand. "My great friend, Mrs Andrews, is sending her little daughter,
Dorothy, to spend a few weeks with us. She is arriving on Wednesday, in three
days' time!" "Oh! Mother how lovely, may she sleep in my room?" "Yes, dear, I
am sure she will like that." "How old is she, and I wonder what she will be like?"
asked Louie. "Well, you will soon find out, but I am sure you will love her."
With
what impatience Louie awaited the arrival of Dorothy; it seemed the day would
never come! And then one morning she was all excitement, listening for the sound
of the cart wheels when her father would return from the station, a mile off,
with Dorothy.
At Last! The two little girls clasped hands, looking at each
other with interest and enquiry. Louie saw a child of ten with dark brown eyes,
soft brown hair and rosy cheeks. The prettiest girl she had ever seen, thought
Louie; and her heart went out to Dorothy who was to become her lifelong friend.
The
day after she arrived, Dorothy was shown the bathroom and departed with towels
and soap. After a while she came rushing back to Louie, who was waiting for her
mother to dress. "Oh! Louie," she exclaimed, "I've had such a fright! I've never
seen a shower bath before and when I pulled the string the water made such a noise
falling into the bath, that I nearly died." How the little girls laughed at Dorothy's
experience.
Dorothy, though so young a child, was an excellent reader.
It was the greatest pleasure for Louie to lie and listen while she read story
after story. One day she read from a book called "Sunshine", the story of a boy
whose parents lived in India. He was sent to his uncle to be educated; he was
heart-broken at parting from his parents and as he had been thoroughly spoilt
and was quite uncontrolled, he found his new life very difficult. On coming into
the hall one day, he saw an envelope lying on the table addressed to his uncle.
He knew it was a foreign telegram and wondered if it would not be something for
him - perhaps about his mother whom he adored. Picking up a book he tried to read
- but it was useless. He could not resist the temptation - he tore open the envelope
and read that his mother had died.
Both little girls had tears in their
eyes. "Oh!" said Dorothy, "it is too sad. I can't read any more. How dreadful
it would be if anything like that happened to me! Oh! Louie I could not bear my
mother to die, I do love her so - my darling, darling mother. I did not want to
leave her but she said I must come and so I came - I wish I was going home tomorrow."
Fortunately Jack and Christian, who were always trying to coax Dorothy
out to play with them, arrived and carried off the little visitor. She never really
enjoyed these outdoor games because she could not rid herself of the thought of
the child spending her life lying down. Louie found her a dear, unselfish companion
and shed bitter tears when the day came for her to go to an aunt who lived thirty
miles away.
During the following week Louie missed her mother's bright smile.
"Is anything the matter?" she asked, "you look so sad." "Darling," replied Mrs
Flemmer, "I hardly like to tell you: I've had such sad news. Dorothy's mother
is dead." "Oh! Mother," said Louie, bursting into tears, "I cannot bear it," she
sobbed. "But, my dear child, I know it is very sad, but why should you be so upset?"
Between
her sobs Louie told of the story they had read together of the little boy from
India, whose mother had died, and how upset Dorothy had been and what she had
said. "And now it has happened just like the little boy in the story," sobbed
Louie. "She is away from home and her mother has died. My poor, poor Dorothy!"
And she buried her face in her pillows and wept bitterly.
"Come dear,"
said her mother, "Don't cry so. Let us talk about Dorothy. What else did she tell
you?" "She told me about her little twin sisters and how she loved them and liked
helping her mother. She said her mother was a darling, darling mother." And so
they talked until Louie was comforted.
The poor child had a dreadful experience
when she was put into plaster-of-paris. She stood for hours, clad only in a vest
while the doctor wrapped broad thick bandages, which had been dipped into plaster-of-paris,
round and round her thin little body.
At length she was helped back on
to the bed. No one seemed to realise how miserable and uncomfortable she was.
She was left alone for the night, not even a bell at her bedside, during those
long dark hours. It was impossible to sleep. Being encased in the hard plaster-of-paris,
she could not turn on to her side so the night was spent on her back.
Next
morning the doctor arrived with his instruments and, using a saw, he cut through
the plaster-of-paris, and with difficulty managed to drag it off. "Now," he said,
rubbing his hands in a satisfied way, "I am sending this to Cape Town as a model
for the jacket they are going to make for you. When you have the jacket you will
be able to run about again."
Louie looked forward to that day with intense
longing.
"Oh! Grandpapa, I
am so glad you've come," said Louie as Mr Distin walked into the sitting room
at Plaat River, where she lay on her lounge chair, "Everyone has gone to Middelburg,
but they will be back before sunset. The little ones have been playing in here
to keep me company. Take the children away, Katie, and tell cook to bring tea."
"How
are you, my dear?" asked Mr Distin, sitting down beside the child's couch. "Oh!
I am ever so much better, thank you grandpapa. I shall be able to sit down and
pour your tea when it comes."
"What! Are you allowed to sit up?"
"Yes,
and next month, when my surgical jacket arrives from Cape Town , I shall be able
to walk about."
"Splendid," exclaimed grandpapa, "How long have you been
lying here?" "Nearly a year; it will be a year next month, November."
"You
poor little thing, you have had a rough time."
"Oh! No, grandpapa, everybody
has been so kind to me and now I hardly feel any pain."
After an enjoyable
tea Louie said, "Grandpapa, please tell me a story."
"A story, my dear,
I don't know any stories."
"Well, tell me about when you were a little
boy."
"Oh! That is such a long time ago, I've forgotten."
"Then
tell me something that happened when you were big."
"Now, let me see,"
said the old gentleman, "yes, perhaps this will amuse you."
"Some years
ago, before we had the railway and telegraph, it was very difficult to get in
touch with the police and I was having a great deal of difficulty with sheep-stealing.
Try as I would, I could not find the thief. At last I thought of a plan. I had
the whole staff, every man on the farm assembled in the yard. There they stood
in a long row and I addressed them. 'I have not been able to catch the thief who
is killing my sheep but I have got a fowl, a snow white rooster, who is going
to tell me who the thief is.'"
"But, grandpapa," interrupted Louie, "how funny!"
"Yes,
my dear, but you must not interrupt me and you will see what a clever fowl I had.
I said to the men, 'A fowl is going to tell me who the thief is. You see that
storeroom over there? Inside is a three-legged pot, in the pot is a fowl. You
are going to take it in turns to go into the room, one at a time; you must lift
the lid for the fowl to see you, and when you've all been in there, the fowl will
tell me the name of the thief. Now, Jacob, you are the oldest and at the head
of the row, so you must go in first.' Jacob went in and all the men followed in
turn. When the last man returned, I said, 'Now I am going in and will come back
and tell you the name of the thief.'
I walked into the storeroom and in
a few minutes returned. 'Hendrick!' I roared in a voice of thunder, 'you are the
thief!' 'Oh! Please baas! Please baas!' pleaded Hendrick, grovelling about on
his knees in the dust, 'Please forgive me, please baas.'
He was in abject
terror and the rest of the men were scared out of their wits. Anything occult
appeals to the native mind."
"Yes, but Grandpapa…."
"Wait a minute,
my dear, and I will tell you how I did it. When I placed the fowl in the pot,
your uncle and I made a hole in the wall, which separates the storeroom from the
skinroom. He sat in the skinroom looking through this hole. I told him to watch
each man as he came in and 'The thief,' said I, 'will not lift the lid. Remember
his name, and when all the men have been in, I will come to you and you will tell
me the name of the man who did not open the pot.' When I went in, your uncle said,
'The only man who did not lift the lid was Hendrick; he walked round the pot and
then went out.' Of course he would not lift the lid because he really believed
the fowl would be able to tell me what I wanted to know, and thought that by not
showing his face to the fowl, he would be keeping his secret. This deceit was
just what gave him away."
"Oh! I do think that was very clever of you,
grandpapa. Mother told me once how when you were playing hide-and-seek with your
children, you put Uncle Harry into your big safe and then could not get it open."
"Yes,
that was a dreadful experience; I could not work the combination simply because
I lost my head.
"Let this be a warning to you and take for your motto 'Keep
Cool'. If one could keep cool, one would always be master of the situation. Losing
one's head is the undoing of most people. I had to call Uncle Willie, wasn't that
absurd? He, of course, opened the safe without any difficulty. The trouble was
that as soon as I began to work the combination the thought came over me, 'How
long was it since I shut Harry in - what should I find - perhaps he had been suffocated.'
However the little chap was alright.
"Now I will tell you a story with
a moral:
"Once upon a time there was a beautiful garden. Running through
it from end to end was a narrow path. On each side of the path grew the most beautiful
flowers. A girl was taken there by her fairy godmother who, on opening the gate,
said - 'Now, my dear, you must walk along the path to the gate at the other end
and you may pick one flower - remember only one!'
"'Oh! How beautiful,'
exclaimed the girl, 'I'll pick this one.' She dashed forward but in the act of
stretching out her hand she saw another flower she thought more beautiful; then
she saw another and so on and on she went. She reached the further gate and realised
she had to pass out. She had not picked a single flower! She had missed her opportunity.
"As
you go through life, Louie, always remember:
'Gather the roses while you
may,
Today, my friend, today.'"
And so they chatted through the long
afternoon. Louie was very fond of her grandfather and among her treasures are
letters which he wrote to her during each of her visits to England. She received
the first one when she was only four years old, dated 1878.
Once
more November: Every day the surgical jacket from Cape Town was anxiously expected.
At last a big square packing case arrived. This was opened but it was with feelings
of bitter disappointment that Louie beheld the contents. Poor Louie, it seemed
too much! Instead of a nice comfortable jacket, here was the plaster-of-paris
model covered with chamois leather; three large straps and buckles across the
front and padding under the arms and where it would rest on her hips. The ghastly
thing!
There was tragedy in her eyes as Louie sat and gazed at it. The
problem was how to put it on. "I know, mother," said Louie, "put it on the floor,
I'll step into it and you can pull it up." This was done and Louie beheld herself.
Could anything be more awful!?! ……………Her thin legs, thin arms and face and her
trunk a solid block! Poor child, the misery and agony of the situation was almost
unbearable. She had to go back to her couch for weeks while clothes were being
made which would fit over the dreadful plaster-of-paris model.
"Of course,"
said the doctor, "there has been a mistake; they should have used this as a model
for the jacket." But the fact of there having been a mistake did not help Louie,
or make it any easier for her. Nobody can ever know the heartache and suffering
that having such an awful figure caused her.
After she went back to school,
one of her school companions asked the new governess, "When you first saw Louie,
did you notice how fat she was?" "No," answered the governess, "I thought what
a straight back she had," What joy these little grains of comfort were to Louie!
At
last the year was passed and the dreadful plaster-of-paris jacket was discarded.
What a relief to the poor child and what a pleasure to wear clothes fitting her
natural figure. She was once more a glad and happy girl.
Mr Flemmer decided
to have a Government Farm School on his farm for his six children. One of the
outside rooms was arranged as a schoolroom and a Governess engaged. Louie's weekly
drives to and from Tafelberg Hall ceased, but she often spent a week-end or a
short holiday with her grandparents. The ambition of her life was to possess a
Teacher's Certificate and to be a governess in some interesting home where there
would be delightful children to each - she was devoted to children.
At
the end of the third year of the School at Plaat River, Louie sat for the examination.
To do this she had to go to Port Elizabeth by train, a journey which occupied
the whole night. There she stayed in her governess' home. They were very kind
to her. She sat for the examination and failed!
"You have not the examination
temperament," said her father, "You had better give up your ideas and come home
and teach the children. You know as much as your mother did when she left school."
"No, Father, I am determined to try again. I am sure the Governess we have is
too young and inexperienced. Why, she is only four months older than me. You have
no idea how Jack and Christian tease her and she does not see through them but
argues with them instead of finding out that they have not done their lessons.
I am sure that if I go to Rocklands Girls School in Cradock, as a pupil teacher,
I shall be able to get this Certificate," replied Louie.
"I think it is
quite unnecessary. Mother and I would like to have you at home instead of a stranger
in the house."
"When I have the certificate I'll come home and teach the
children," and Louie saw her dreams of that romantic home with its wonderful children
she was to teach, fade into nothingness.
Everything was arranged and she
settled to work at Rocklands. She loved the life, the teachers and the girls.
She wished she were a teacher on the permanent staff, and felt that if that wish
could be attained, she would have reached the zenith of her ambition. She loved
the sound of the ringing bell, which each half hour made her change her occupation;
the noise of the girls as they passed upstairs to the dormitories. The life appealed
to her and she was sorry for those who did not live at Rocklands.
Louie
made many dear friends during this year and also lost one. The dear old Danish
grandmother at the age of seventy four passed away. She, "little
Betty of the black wavy hair", had never worn spectacles and her hair was only
slightly grey, still with beautiful waves on each side of her forehead.
At
the end of the year Louie sat for the examination and waited with the greatest
anxiety and impatience for the result. Alas and alack! FAILED!! Her father was
very annoyed - which she thought unfair - she had done all the hard work and had
to suffer the bitter disappointment of failure. She would get into such a state
of nervous excitement whilst writing for an examination that she was quite ill.
Now
she was willing to take over the school at Plaat River. She loved teaching. Jack
had left home to work in Johannesburg. Christian was in her schoolroom for six
months and left to help his father with the farming. She had two sisters and little
Claude and four children whose homes were near Tafelberg Station, and they walked
down to school every day.
"Oh! Father, isn't this splendid of Dr Muir,
the Superintendent of Education," said Louie one day. "he is giving us all a chance
to hold a Teacher's Certificate." "Are you still worrying about that wretched
Certificate?" said her father, as he took the circular from her. Louie continued,
"Yes, I am going to try until I get it, and this seems a possible way. See, Dr
Muir is arranging for lectures to be held at different centres during the holidays,
for uncertified teachers. I am going to fill in this form at once, and will go
to Grahamstown for the June holidays and attend the lectures there."
"Oh!
Very well, if you are so determined."
Fortunately Louie was able to stay
with friends, but, unfortunately, her friends' home was a very long way from the
lecture hall. She engaged a cab to fetch her every day but once or twice the cab
failed to keep the engagement and she had to walk the distance. She thoroughly
enjoyed the lectures and was much interested in the number of women who were attending,
amongst whom she found two who were known to her.
During this course of
lectures she had a curious experience. The class was given a book on Elocution
and the English lecturer chose a piece to be prepared for the next day. "I will
call upon any one of you," he said….. "to read a paragraph."
Louie set
to work on this piece of reading. She read it aloud about half a dozen times,
determined to know every word and be sure of full marks for reading at any rate.
Then, closing the book and her eyes, she thought, "If only I could know which
paragraph he will tell me to read, I would learn it off by heart! I am going to
choose a paragraph and it must be the one he is going to give me."
She
opened the book and her eyes fell on paragraph 8. This she read aloud about twenty
times.
The next day the class assembled in the English Lecture room. The
Professor stood at his desk, opened his book and said, "Now is there any young
lady who will begin? Ah! That's right!" as a brave woman stood up to read the
first paragraph. "That will do - will some one else volunteer to read? No…nobody!
Well, I have a list of your names before me and I am just going to call on the
name on which my pencil falls and that person must read."
Down went the
pencil, a name was called, and the young woman stood up and read. Paragraph after
paragraph - nearer and nearer came the paragraph which Louie had prepared…At last
No 7 is read. "Now," said Louie to herself, "He is going to tell you to read,"
and she held the book in readiness to stand up.
"Louie Flemmer!"
Poor
Louie! She nearly passed out but managed to pull herself together thinking, "This
is just what I have wished for, prayed for. I know it and, without mistake, I'll
read it,"….And she did!
Again the anxious waiting for the results. One
night Louie, having retired early, was still awake, lying in the dark, when there
was a knock at her door. Her father stood there with a newspaper in his hand.
"Here you are, my dear child, here is your name…..Congratulations! You have got
your wish at last and will soon have that certificate. Go to sleep, Good-night!"
At
last! At last! To think that there would be no more examinations!
With
a thankful heart Louie fell asleep.
CHAPTER
IV
THEY
Louie's
two young sisters, Edith and Olive, watched her as she packed a small portmanteau
- the same portmanteau that she had used in the old days when she went to school
at Tafelberg. "Yes," she said in answer to their questions, "I am going to stay
for the week-end. Father is going to drive me up to Tafelberg and as there will
be room in the cart, you may both come, so run away and dress."
The same
big old Cape cart, the same dear old cart horses, which jogged along at a slow
pace which nothing, not even a whip, could induce them to change. These horses
had become so knowing that no driver could prevent them slowing down when they
were about to pass a vehicle or a pedestrian on the road. They seemed to have
the intelligence to know that it was friendly to stop and greet people. Their
master, Mr Flemmer, certainly did not object; being of the most friendly disposition,
he was always ready for a chat with anyone he happened to meet on the road. The
horses went by the peculiar names of "Bokkie", which means little buck, and "Stopper"
one who stops.
"We shall be just in time for tea," said Louie as she sprang
from the cart when it drew up in the carriage drive in front of her grandfather's
fine old farm house, Tafelberg Hall. They received a warm welcome and after a
tea of delicious buttered toast and cakes, Mr Flemmer and the children drove home.
"Come,
Louie," said her cousin, Ida, "it is such a lovely afternoon, let us go down to
the big garden." "I should love to do that," said Louie, "but first show me your
tame springbok." "Come along then, it is in the top garden, and I'll take its
bottle of milk with me." Ida led the way to the kitchen where she collected the
bottle of milk and passing through the back premises, the girls reached the garden.
"Sabie!
Sabie!" called Ida. After a few minutes the little animal came bounding towards
them, leaping and springing high in the air, opening the white hairs which run
down the middle of the back. This is a sign of great pleasure; if the buck is
unhappy or ill, that part of its back can hardly be seen so tightly is it pinched
in.
"How pretty it is," said Louie, as she watched the little thing drink
from an ordinary bottle to which a teat had been attached. "Doesn't it do any
mischief?" "Oh! Yes, it nibbles all the heads off the flowers, that is why it
has to remain in this part of the garden, where there are only trees and shrubs.
Now, Sabie, you've had quite enough supper."
Passing around the side of
the house, the girls descended a flight of steps, on either side of which ran
a long terrace about three feet wide and two feet high. On these terraces were
masses of verbena, their riotous growth making a beautiful splash of colour as
they grew in wild profusion over the stones of the terrace, trailing down into
the gravelled road. On the terraces were trees, shrubs and flowers, also a beautiful
bush of heliotrope.
They crossed the gravelled carriage drive and passed
between two terraced gardens, in which grew trees and flowers in wild profusion.
Here they came to a large pond. At the one end was a very big weeping willow tree,
whose enormous rough stem showed up against the soft, green foliage of the shrubs
growing beyond; its long overhanging, feathery branches trailing on the surface
of the water made a perfect picture. The pond was almost surrounded by trees,
poplars and mimosa thorn trees. The girls paused to admire the lovely scene. They
reached the green gate set in a stone wall and entered the garden - a beautiful
old garden. A long walk running from end to end was bordered on either side by
trees of every description; cypress, almonds, walnuts, pear trees and grape vines
- midway along this path was a wooden seat. Another path led through an orange
grove to a second seat under three immense Adam Fig Trees. The stems and branches
of these trees were covered with initials, sometimes names and dates, carved by
relations and friends of Mr and Mrs Distin. A clergyman once said of these old
fig trees, "I think there are as many names on these trees as there are in a Family
Bible."
September is a perfect month in the Karroo. The weather is delightful,
the cold of winter past, and the intense heat of the summer still far off. The
trees and flowers, all bursting into leaf and bud are a gorgeous sight after the
winter months. The scent of this budding life and the sound of the birds as they
twittered about the trees and called their mates, made the old garden seem a veritable
Paradise. Nothing of this beauty was lost on the two girls as they strolled up
one path and down another, admiring the beautifully shaded blossoms of the fruit
tress.
"How pretty the orange trees are," exclaimed Louie, "see the buds.
What a lovely scent and how strange to have the blossoms and all this lovely golden
fruit at the same time. I think the orange tree is one of the prettiest of the
fruit trees. Oh! Listen! I love the cooing of the turtle doves."
As they
were coming up the centre path, Louie observed a young man in the distance, a
stranger, attending to a clutch of ostrich chicks. "Who is that?" asked Louie,
to whom a stranger was always an object of great interest. She could not bear
to hear her friends or relations talk of someone she had not met. When this happened,
she became almost beside herself with anxiety to meet the person mentioned. This
trait became a complex and she explained the feeling by saying, "I am so afraid
I may miss someone nice."
"Didn't you hear that a young man was coming
from the Transvaal to work on uncle's farm?" was Ida's answer to Louie's question.
"Yes, I did hear about that." "Well, there he is - come along and I'll introduce
you to Jim Rous." So saying, Ida left the path, followed by Louie. They crossed
the intervening space and stood beside the young man, who was putting prickly
pear pieces into a machine which cut the leaves into small pieces - these were
being given to the ostrich chicks.
"Mr Rous, allow me to introduce you
to Miss Flemmer."
"How do you do? I'm afraid I can't shake hands, I'm all
mucked up with the juice from these leaves."
"I hope you are liking the
Karroo."
"Yes, thanks, very much indeed."
"You will meet again,"
said Ida, "Miss Flemmer is staying for the week-end."
The grey eyes of
the young man met the look of interest from the brown eyes fixed on him.
The
following morning, as they sat at breakfast, Mrs Distin turned to her husband,
"Excuse me, my dear, there is something on the stove which needs my attention."
So saying, she rose and left the room.
"Mr Rous, do tell us some of your
Transvaal stories," begged Ida, "I loved your stories about Scotty Smith. Louie
you must get Mr Rous to tell you his adventures with Scotty Smith some time. Now
Mr Rous, do tell us something."
"I feel you don't believe my Transvaal
yarns."
"Never mind. I like hearing them. Come now, begin."
Encouraged,
he said: "I'll tell you a very extraordinary experience a man had, which I can
hardly believe myself, so I won't blame you if you don't believe it."
"Oh!
How lovely. Do begin or you will be rushing off to your work before you reach
the end."
"Here's for the story," said Jim. "A number of Dutch families
were camping on the side of the Crocodile River in the Transvaal. One afternoon
the men went down to the river to bathe. Leaving their clothes on the bank, they
plunged into the water. After a delightful swim they proceeded to dress - then
it was they missed one of their companions. They called, they searched, but there
was no sign of the missing man.
"Sadly they gathered up his clothes. A solemn
procession reached the camp with the tragic news that a man was lost - either
drowned or eaten by a crocodile. There was great weeping and wailing. The dejected
occupants of the camp sat around the fire, too sad to eat, or to tell their usual
fire-side stories. As they talked of their departed friend they were startled
by hearing the voice of the man they thought to be dead, shouting 'Bring my clothes!
Bring my clothes!'
"No ghost could be asking for clothes, so one of the
men rushed off into the bush in the direction of the voice. There he found the
naked man and, helping him into his clothes, he hurried him back to the circle
of his friends. He sprawled in front of the fire, drinking a mug of steaming hot
coffee. As soon as he had sufficiently recovered, he satisfied their curiosity
by telling them his experience.
"A crocodile caught me alright. I'll show
you fellows the marks of his teeth later on. I can only think that it had had
a meal, so instead of eating me, it swam with me under the water and left me on
the ledge in the side of the bank; the ledge was above the water mark. There I
lay. When I got used to the gloomy place, I crawled about and examined the crocodile's
pantry. What was my joy when I discovered a chink of light. I realised that I
was near the surface, so I got to work and with great difficulty, dug myself out
and here I am!!"
"Oh! That does seem an impossible story; but never mind……"
The sentence was never finished. Those at the breakfast table were startled by
screams and shouts coming from the native servants in the kitchen. Something dreadful
must be happening. In great confusion they all jumped up, rushed through the big
dining room and down a short passage into the kitchen.
What was their horror
to see Mrs Distin in flames. With marvellous presence of mind and dexterity for
so old a gentleman, Mr Distin wrapped his jacket around his wife, thus extinguishing
the flames. Whilst standing in front of the stove, Mrs Distin was unaware that
a piece of burning wood had fallen out and in a moment her light summer frock
was ablaze. She was helped to her room and put to bed.
But tragically
enough there was no oil in the house. Jim sprang on to his horse Moscow and raced
for the station four miles off, where there was a little wayside shop. There were
thirteen gates to be opened and closed but Jim never drew rein - he dug spurs
into his horse and leaped the gates. When he reached the shop, he threw himself
from the panting animal, dashed inside, leaped the counter, seized a bottle of
olive oil, gasped at the shopkeeper, "Mrs Distin burned - no oil.", and was on
his horse racing back. He did the double journey four miles each way, in thirty
minutes! Surely a record.
Mrs Distin was laid up for many months and most
devotedly nursed by her family.
"I hope you are feeling better," said Mrs Flemmer
as she sat beside her mother one afternoon. "Yes, thank you my dear, but I am
so worried about a strange experience I have every night. A snake glides up the
leg of my bed, drinks the milk from the cup on the bedside table, curls itself
up under my pillow and then, towards morning, goes back to its hiding place."
"Have
you told anyone about this?"
"Yes, but I know they don't believe me."
Mrs
Flemmer, with soothing, loving, words tactfully changed the subject, as she did
not want her mother to see what she was thinking, finding it impossible to believe
the story. Months after Mrs Distin had left Tafelberg Hall and her bedroom turned
into a sitting room, Jim saw the snake and shot it. So she must really have had
the dreadful experience that nobody believed.
Two years after Jim's arrival
at Tafelberg Hall, he became manager of the estate and retained that position
for the next five years.
While he was at Tafelberg, Louie was carrying
on the Government Farm School in her father's home. They were great friends, Louie
firmly believing in platonic friendship. They met at all the country dances and
many a pleasant evening Jim spent at Plaat River, where he learned to play whist
and chess, and where he discussed farming matters with Mr Flemmer.
Jim
had a very valuable and helpful friend in a Scotchman several years his senior.
For a year he took night classes with this man who taught him Algebra and Euclid.
He also worked out a course of serious reading for Jim, who much appreciated and
valued this friendship and the knowledge and help thus gained.
One day
when Jim returned from a visit to Plaat River, Scotty said: "Well, how's The Little
Dane?"
"Who?"
"Oh! Don't pretend you don't know who I mean and don't
imagine I'm blind. I know very well you are in love with Mr Flemmer's eldest daughter."
"Nonsense!" Jim said and hurriedly left the room on the pretext of attending to
his work. Scotty chuckled to himself - thereafter whenever they spoke of Louie,
she was always referred to as "The Little Dane".
When Louie had been teaching
in her home for four years, she decided to make a change and wrote to the Principal
of Rocklands Girls' High School in Cradock, asking to be taken on as an assistant
Kindergarten Teacher. Her father was much annoyed. "But Father," she argued, "you
don't give me the support I need. When I punish the children you think I am too
severe, and you always take their part. The result is that they are not working
as they should,"
When Jim heard of her change of plans, he argued and tried
his best to dissuade her from going to Cradock, but she was determined and so
carried out her arrangements.
Louie loved the work at Rocklands and the first
year was a very happy one indeed. She met a Scotch lady, Miss Charlotte Campbell;
they became the greatest of friends and thirty six years after their parting in
Cradock, Louie with her only daughter, Marjory, was able to visit her friend in
Scotland, where they spent a wonderful month; the intervening years seemed just
to fall away as if there had not been that long passage of time.
During
Louie's second year at Rocklands she had the misfortune to break her spectacles.
As her eyesight was very bad, she suffered acutely. She went to Grahamstown to
consult an oculist but could not be suited. During this trying experience the
most wonderful thing in the world came to her ……..LOVE.
When Louie's engagement
to Jim was announced, her youngest sister, Olive remarked, "What a good thing
you are engaged, you are nearly and old maid."
"My dear, you don't call
twenty-four an old maid!"
"I do," said the child.
When
Louie left Rocklands to spend the Easter holidays at her home, the Principal,
who was very sympathetic and kind about the trouble with her eyes, said that if
she could find a substitute she need not return until she had been successful
in getting suitable glasses, and suggested that she see an ex-pupil of Rocklands,
who was living on a neighbouring farm, and ask her to take her place.
That
happy Easter week! How the days and hours flew! Jim, who was the most conscientious
of men and very busy, could only spare the evenings for their new-found happiness.
Louie
was living in the house where her father lived when he was engaged to her mother,
and Jim was in the house where Louie's mother lived - so history was repeating
itself.
The Flemmer family were confident that the substitute would be
able to take Louie's place. The lovely autumn days of March sped on.
Louie
and her father drove to the neighbour's farm and what was their disappointment
when they found that the proposed substitute was not available! There was nothing
for it but for Louie to return to Rocklands. She caught the train, leaving a note
for Jim at the station, explaining what had happened. He, on his way to spend
the evening with her, touched at the station, and instead of proceeding to Plaat
River, he turned his horse and rode straight back to Tafelberg Hall, saying to
himself, "Tomorrow I'm going to Cradock to fetch her."
The next evening
he arrived at Cradock. As he was walking from the station to the Hotel, he passed
a house where a great friend of Louie's lived: hearing the sound of a voice he
stropped to listen - Yes, it was Louie singing - she was singing his favourite
song "The Garden of Sleep". "So that's where she is - so far so good," and he
continued his walk to the hotel. After disposing of his luggage and engaging a
room, he walked down to the girls' school and asked for the lady principal.
'When
Greek meets Greek'!! It is a pity such an interesting hour was without an audience!
Jim was emphatic that he was taking Louie home the very next day! The poor lady,
though sympathetic, tried to make him understand how he was upsetting her school.
"Madam,
isn't it better for your school to be upset than for me to have a blind wife?"
So they argued and parted without either of them having given in.
Louie,
standing with her eyes closed, while her friend played her accompaniment, was
in the middle of a song, when there was a noise. Looking round, what was her startled
amazement to behold Jim being shown into the drawingroom by one of the members
of the family - dear little Chris. The family discreetly disappeared, leaving
Jim and Louie alone.
"Whatever has happened?"
"I've come to fetch
you home."
"But, Jim…."
"It's no good arguing, you are coming home."
"Did
Father send you to fetch me?"
"No, they know nothing about my being in
Cradock. I have not seen them, but I've been to Rocklands."
"What?"
"Yes,
I have seen the Lady Principal and told her I am taking you home tomorrow!"
"But…."
"It
is no use saying 'but'. I am quite determined. We return tomorrow. I am not going
to have you run the risk of being blind for anybody's school. Now, I'll call these
good people, who so kindly gave up their drawingroom to us, and we'll explain
the situation."
The next day, when Louie had to go to the Principal's study,
she wished the earth would open and swallow her, and felt she could endure anything
rather than the coming interview. However, her fears were groundless as the lady
proved sympathetic and granted her sick leave.
It was dark when the train
in which Louie and Jim were travelling arrived at Tafelberg station. They set
out to walk the short distance, a mile, to Louie's home. When they arrived at
the farmhouse, instead of going in immediately, they stood on the stoep and looked
in the window. They were able to see the inmates of the sittingroom, as they had
neglected to draw the curtain. It was a small window and set in a wall three feet
thick, therefore it was hardly necessary to worry about curtains. The old fashioned
round mahogany table, in the centre of the room, on which rested a standing oil
lamp; Mr Flemmer in his armchair, reading.
"What a blessing it is Sunday,"
whispered Louie, "and Mother is able to enjoy her book." The piano stood across
the far corner, and where her lounge chair used to stand was a sofa. A pretty,
homely scene, quiet and peaceful - what a shock they would have in a few minutes.
Jim
rapped loudly and then opened the door. The family were even more astonished than
Louie and Jim expected them to be. Explanations followed. Louie and Jim were relieved
to see how well Mr Flemmer took Jim's drastic action. Being a man of peace, he
was only too pleased to have someone else do the fighting, and was thankful to
have Louie safely home.
During the next nine months Louie sat, day after
day, with a ribbon tied across her eyes, only opening them to eat, dress or undress.
In all that time she did not read a single word, write a letter or sew. Every
moment Jim could spare, he devoted to her. He read aloud for hours and would take
her for long walks, when she would hold his arm and walk with her eyes bandaged.
Two lots of spectacles had been supplied by the occulist in Grahamstown, but they
only caused greater pain.
At the end of ten months an occulist arrived
in Cradock, a very clever Frenchman who was only in Africa on account of his health.
The glasses he prescribed were so wonderful that thereafter, Louie had no more
trouble.
It was indeed fortunate that Louie once more had the use of her
eyes, because Jim had decided to leave Tafelberg Hall. "I long to get back to
the Transvaal," he said. "The farm called 'The Pyramids' which I am going to hire
is twelve miles from Pretoria. These are the plans of the house." They studied
them with interest. "When the house is built I am coming to fetch you. You will
be ready by November?"
So much for the plans of mice and men!
The
wonderful thrill of making her trousseau kept Louie busily occupied. A new sewing
machine was bought and a roll of the finest calico, and Louie and her mother spent
many happy months As they settled down to work in real earnest.
Jim was
joined by his brother Vassall on "The Pyramids" where they lived in a tent until
the house was built. This at last was complete and the final arrangements were
made for the wedding. October came, and on the tenth day of that month the world
was startled by the news that war had been declared between England and the Transvaal.
(1898).
As Pretoria was the birthplace of both Vassall
and Jim, they were Transvaal burgers, and as such were commandeered. They left
the farm riding on one horse, the faithful Moscow, each carrying a small handbag
containing the barest necessities of life.
When they reached Pretoria, they
found everything in the wildest confusion. Moscow was taken in charge by an official
and never seen again. Often his master thought of that good and faithful horse
which had served him so well and wondered what his fate had been.
Farmers
were pouring into the town, receiving instructions and falling into line in their
ordinary clothes; so Jim and Vassall, who were not conspicuous by their lack of
uniform, planned to escape on the outgoing train which was leaving for Delgoa
Bay, from whence they could catch a boat to Port Elizabeth and from there would
join the English forces.
They mingled with the crowd on the Pretoria Station.
Jim waited until the last minute and then walked up to the railway official who
was issuing tickets and demanded passes and tickets for himself and his brother.
The official received the impression that he was on some secret mission and without
more ado granted his request.
Several very anxious moments were spent before
the train rushed on its way carrying a large contingent of troops, amongst whom
were Jim and Vassall. Great was their relief when they were over the border and
in Portuguese territory! On reaching Delgoa Bay they were overjoyed to find a
boat sailing that very day, the 'Garth Castle'. Once aboard, they breathed a sigh
of relief.
These last few weeks had been full of heart-burning and anxiety
for Louie as there had been no word from Jim after the outbreak of hostilities;
private communication between the Transvaal and the Colony was interrupted. One
day as she sat with a sad heart thinking that it was just six weeks to the day
fixed for their wedding, Claude dashed into the room, crying, "Look what I've
got for you!" She seized the yellow envelope he flung on the table, and tearing
it open, read the glad news from Jim. "Arrived safely Port Elizabeth. With you
tomorrow."
The relief to know that he was safely out of the Transvaal!
She knew that he intended joining the English forces as soon as he cold be taken
on, but for him fighting for the English forces was very different from being
commandeered by the Dutch.
After spending some days at Plaat River, Jim,
who was on Colonel Gorringe's special secret service, decided to take over the
management of Tafelberg Hall, for his cousin, who was away on military duty. This
would not interfere with his secret service work and would keep him occupied until
he could get on to active field work. No telephones or cars in those days. Every
day a little native boy rode on horseback from Tafelberg Hall to the Station,
taking half-an-hour each way to cover the distance of four miles, returning with
letters and papers and whatever information was available.
One day Jim received
notice that a Dutch Commando was on a neighbouring farm, This farm lay beyond
a range of mountains which ran along the southern boundary of Tafelberg Hall,
about six miles from the homestead.
After supper Jim took his little fox
terrier, Vixen, always called Vic, and shut her up, knowing full well that she
would follow him if she got the chance - as he was going into the enemy's camp
it was no place for a dog. He went to the stables and saddled a horse for himself
because he did not wish anyone to know that he was leaving the farm. "Oh for my
dear old Moscow!" he sighed.
A glorious summer night, the great blue vault
of heaven thickly studded with stars, and the full moon in all her glory throwing
a radiance which made it almost as light as day. When he was out of earshot of
the house, Jim put spurs to his horse and rode hard. Soon he had crossed the mountains
by a path and riding for a short distance, on the other side, he came upon a donga,
a deep hollow caused by the flow of water. Here he fastened his horse and then
proceeded on foot. He came to a field of wheat in full ear and, creeping through
the wire fence, walked up a furrow, which fortunately was dry. When about half
way along the field, Jim stood still for a few minutes to get his bearings. He
saw that the field ran nearly up to the front door of the house. "Splendid! There
is the house and there to the right the native huts."
A piercing, ear-splitting
noise broke the stillness of the beautiful, calm summer night. In an instant Jim
was down, flat on his face, his body pressed to the ground. A wheat field in the
Karroo is not the place anyone would choose for 'cover'. Owing to the dry and
arid climatic conditions, the wheat grows about three feet in height and very
sparsely.
Jim heard the front door of the house being flung open and a
troop of Dutchmen rushed out. The continuous yells of a dog in agony guided the
men to the spot whence the noise was coming. The hideous and unearthly sounds
continued. He realised at once what had happened; his little dog, Vic, had escaped,
followed him and now by her devotion was going to betray the master she loved
so well. With beating heart he heard the Dutchmen as they passed within a few
feet of his hiding place say: "It's a dog." "Yes, it's been caught in a trap."
"It's an Englishman's dog; it must have followed it's master. We'll loosen it.
It will make straight for it's master which will take us to his hiding place -
we'll soon make short work of the devil!"
With bated breath Jim listened
to the rattling of the chain as the men released the trap. Poor little Vic! He
felt it would not be many minutes before he would be feeling her warm wet nose
snuffling all over him, and then ….death…no possible way of escape!
What was
his astonishment when he realised that Vic, instead of continuing her search for
her master, was making off for home as fast as her legs could carry her! She had
decided this was no place for her, master or no master.
The men stood and
watched her flight for some minutes, as she disappeared in the far distance; they
retraced their steps, passing close to Jim where he lay hidden. He was able to
hear every word of their conversation. If they had made the slightest attempt
to search for him, he would have been found, but they were content to go back
to the house and close the door.
Waiting until all was quiet, Jim rose.
At a fast swinging pace, without making any noise, he passed out of the wheat
field, close to the house in which the enemy sat, and reached the native quarters.
He went up to a hut which he knew was occupied by a renegade Englishman and his
Hottentot wife - alas! that any white man can sink so low! Jim placed his finger
on the latch, raised it; silently opening the door he passed in. Stealthily closing
it behind him, he struck a match.
"Oh! For God's sake, Mr Rous, go away,
go away - they'll kill me, they'll kill me!" gasped the Englishman in a terrified
whisper, sitting up in bed and waving his arms about - a pitiable sight of abject
fear. A most despicable sight.
"Shut up!", came the fierce whisper from
Jim, "Shut up or I'll kill you. You give me the information I require and I'll
go."
Questions were asked, answers given. When Jim had all the information
he required, he left the hut as silently as he had entered. Reaching his horse
he turned for home and bed which he reached without any further adventure, and
sent in a full and detailed report to Colonel Gorringe.
"Ring the bell,"
Jim ordered a few days later, and the men as they sat in their huts during the
midday meal and heard the tones of the big bell boom forth, knew that something
unusual was happening. Never, since the world began, had they had so short a time
for their dinner. They poured out of their huts, and all, with one accord, made
straight for the house. Here they found Jim waiting for them. "There is a commando
of Boers approaching us from Middelburg. You've all got your jobs. Everyone get
into your work at once. I don't want the Boers to find you in your huts - remember
you know nothing. If any questions are asked, you know nothing."
"Isaac," turning
to a young Hottentot, "you are the best runner I know; I must get a message to
the stationmaster. If I send a man on horseback he would be seen by the Boers
and caught - my only chance is to send you. You'll have to run for your life -
if they catch you, they'll kill you. Will you go?" "Yes, Baas," answered Isaac
without the slightest hesitation. "You are not afraid?" "No, Baas." Jim handed
him a porcupine quill; a hollow quill from the porcupine's 'rattle'. On the tail
of the porcupine are a number of hollow quills which he rattles when approached
by an enemy; the noise thus produced will cause a man to leap aside with his heart
in his mouth.
"The letter to the stationmaster is inside this quill. How are
you going to carry this precious quill?" "So, Baas." Removing his dilapidated
old hat, he passed the quill into the thick mat of his closely growing hair, then
replaced the hat.
"If you are caught, throw the quill into a bush without
letting them see. Now, off with you and run for your life."
"Alright, Baas."
"Remember
to keep close to the stone wall."
"Yes, Baas."
So saying, Isaac
set off at lightning speed and disappeared through the trees and buildings of
the homestead. "Poor little devil," said Jim as he watched him go, "I wonder if
he will come through alive."
Jim ran up through the garden, where years
ago Louie had watched Ida's tame springbok. He mounted a prominent position on
the outskirts of the garden, adjusting his field glasses and gazed at the surrounding
country. He could see the mountains which lay thirty-six to forty miles away.
Four or five miles from where he stood were a few scattered koppies. Bare open
country lay between the homestead and those koppies, not a mound, not a bush or
tree, nothing but the small karroo bush, which grows from a foot to eighteen inches
in height, and the ash-bush. This is a bushy plant growing about three feet in
height, with very shallow roots. It is called the 'ash-bush' because when burned
the ash is used by farmer's wives as lye, for making their soap, and also for
making their raisins.
When Jim looked towards the North he could see an
irregular line of horsemen as they jogged along at a slow trot. When he looked
towards the East he could see the figure of the little Hottentot as he sped on
his way, keeping close to the stone wall, which Jim hoped was going to be his
protection - not a mound, not a tree or shrub to intercept the view, just the
bare unbroken veldt.
"Good Heavens!", ejaculated Jim, and his hand trembled
as he adjusted the field glasses, "they have seen him! By Jove! The poor little
devil does not stand a dog's chance." He watched in intense excitement as two
of their number broke away from the column and bore down on Poor Isaac who ran
for his life. "Thank God, they don't fire, but if they catch him….what can save
him?"
He ran but the horses came thundering down on him. "Heavens! What
has happened, he has disappeared! Gone completely, as if the earth had swallowed
him up!"
Jim watched the two men as they rode back and forth over the spot
where Isaac was last seen. They were as puzzled as Jim. At last they gave up the
puzzle and turning their horses rejoined their companions.
Jim returned
to the house, there to await the arrival of the commando and prevent them doing
unnecessary damage. After feeding their horses and themselves, they proceeded
on their way.
Isaac was never out of Jim's thoughts; his disappearance
was a puzzle to which there seemed no solution, and Jim made up his mind he would
never see the brave young man again, little dreaming that Isaac would live to
serve him for many, many years.
The next morning, as Jim was leaving the
house at the crack of dawn, who should be waiting for him at the stables, but
Isaac. "By Jove, Isaac!", he said, "I never expected to see you again. What happened?"
"Baas, when I saw those horses coming at me I knew I cold not get away. So as
I ran, I grabbed a big ash-bush and made for an antbear hole, which I could see
just in front of me. I ran right into the hole, pulling the bush after me, and
as I sat in the hole I held the bush up, to make it look just like one of the
other ash-bushes growing around. I heard the men looking for me, I could hear
what they were saying. They think I am the devil's own child," giggled the little
Hottentot.
"Did you get to the station?"
"Oh yes! Baas, as soon
as I knew the commando was out of sight, I ran as hard as I could and gave the
stationmaster the porcupine quill."
"Good for you! Go to the kitchen and
get some breakfast."
In 1900, after fifteen
years' residence, Mr Flemmer sold Plaat River. The new owner changed the name
to "Springfield". The Flemmer family settled in Cradock.
Jim arrived in
Cradock and great was the rejoicing to see him safely back. "I have ridden a thousand
miles during the month I have been away, on the same horse - yes, on the same
horse and he is in splendid condition! Three of us rode from Tafelberg to George,
over the mountains along the sea coast to Humansdorp, then up to Cradock, and
here I am."
"Have you had any exciting times?" asked Olive.
"Exciting
times! I should think so, and amusing ones too. We were arrested as Boer spies
at Oudtshoorn."
"You don't say so," exclaimed Mr Flemmer, "how could such
a thing be possible?"
"If you could have seen us you would not be surprised
that we were taken for Boers. Sunburned, the skin peeling off our noses, three
day's growth of beard, hot and dusty. We were arrested and taken before Sir George
Parsons; but we did not have much trouble as we were able to show him the little
slips of paper, signed by Colonel Gorringe, which we carried inside our neckties.
In spite of this we had a couple of plain clothes men watching us. What fun we
had dodging them - we did lead them a dance," concluded Jim, laughing.
"What
about the rest of your journey; was there any more excitement?" asked Olive.
"Any
more excitement? I should think there was! Near Bethesda we were on the lookout
for a commando; as we rode we came to a long deep valley. We could not see a trace
of the enemy, so decided that we would ride down the valley and reconnoitre. We
had ridden a couple of miles when a shot was fired at us. It was hopeless to try
and retrace our steps, the only thing to do was to scramble out at the side."
"Oh!
Jim, how awful!" exclaimed Louie.
"It was pretty awful climbing up a steep
rough incline and expecting every minute to have a bullet in your back. Why they
did not get us, or our horses, I cannot tell. However, we reached the top and
then, imagine our consternation: we were looking down into the Boer camp!"
"Mercy!
What ever did you do?"
"There was nothing to do but to race for it. Our
unfortunate horses slithered and shot down that mountainside; fortunately it was
dinner hour and the men were in their tents. We put spurs to the poor horses and
dashed right through their midst, and were away over a long smooth stretch of
country, riding for our lives. We were out of sight before a shot was fired. The
last part of our ride was very tame, no excitements. I have all my papers in order,
and am going up to the Transvaal as Intelligence Officer. I leave next week."
"I
also have something very interesting to tell you," said Mrs Flemmer, as the family,
including Jim, gathered around the tea table in the afternoon. "I have a letter
from my sister from Kimberley. She tells me of my brother, Ernest Distin's experiences.
You know, Jim, he is on Haig's staff as Field Intelligence Officer. Well, he was
taken prisoner and thrown into jail in Bloemfontein. During his imprisonment he
was able to send out information to General French's advance column, advising
him of President Kruger's whereabouts; but Kruger slipped away in a horse wagon
drawn by eight horses.
"From Bloemfontein, Ernest was removed to the concentration
camp on the Show Ground in Pretoria; fortunately one of his guards was a man whom
he knew, and this man, for a consideration disclosed certain information with
reference to General Cronje's ammunition."
"How very interesting," said
Jim, "yes, what happened next?"
"Ernest found out that Lord Rosslyn, who
is a correspondent for one of the big English newspapers, and had been in the
field working for his paper, was in the adjoining camp, Hospital Camp. While exercising
in the recreation ground, Ernest fell down at Lord Rosslyn's feet and as Lord
Rosslyn bent over him, managed to whisper the words 'Information - watch out.'
Ernest was successful in getting hold of the book 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' and used
the old code of making dots under the letters, which when written out convey a
message. Later, when passing Lord Rosslyn, he was able to hand him the book, saying
'Urgent message, page…please forward.' Lord Rosslyn returned to England and has
published his book 'Twice Captured'. In this book he tells of Ernest'sclever
acting. He gives the full page from 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' with the dotted letters
which, when written out, convey very important information to the British. My
sister has the book and of course the enemy has access to it as well, with the
result that they were on the special lookout for Ernest Distin."
"This
really is most exciting," said Jim.
"It is going to be far more exciting
before I have finished. Though we have all read my sister's letter see how interestedly
the family are listening to me!" said Mrs Flemmer as she glanced around, her dear
blue eye resting on her three daughters who smiled back at her and Louie said:
"I think it is one of the most exciting stories I have read, and it does give
me such a thrill to think that I have an uncle who is such a brave man! Please
go on, Mother."
"Ernest was released from the hospital camp and again on
active service, when he was caught, by a party of General de Wet's Commando. He
was recognised as the man they were looking for, and sentenced by Field Cornet
Marais (who took his boots and most of his clothes) to be shot. A grave was dug.
As he stood at the edge of the open grave waiting while the firing party were
busy with their preparations, which fortunately, were taking longer than usual,
one of their scouts rushed in amongst the crowd, shouting 'The English! The English
are on us!' They flung Ernest into a cart. In this he travelled for three days,
and General de Wet joined his Commando. The case was re-opened, and the death
sentence confirmed. The sentence was to be carried out on the column reaching
Paardeberg. His captors were very bitter against Ernest as they had all been told
about Lord Rosslyn's book, and the part he played in getting information through
their lines to the British.
"As we all know, Ernest is one of the most
kind-hearted and generous of men; and was not this trait in his character was
to stand him in good stead, for on being thrown in prison in Paardeberg, what
was his joy to find that the jailer was his friend! At some time he had done the
man who was the jailer a great kindness - and now the jailer was all anxiety to
be good to him. Ernest says it made him think of the story he learned at school,
about the lion and the mouse! How little he dreamed when he helped a man, that
one day his life would be practically in the hands of that same man! Ernest, though
his case seemed so desperate, felt that while there was life there was hope, and
determined to put up a fight for his life. He therefore persuaded the jailer to
have his case re-opened and for him to be tried before a full board of officers.
"The
jailer was successful and a full Court was instituted. The man who had sold Ernest
the information while he was in Bloemfontein jail, was one of his guards, and
stood close beside him all through the trial. What must the feelings of this man
have been, when the Board demanded that Ernest should tell them the name of the
man who had sold him the information! But, of course, Ernest absolutely refused
to disclose the man's name. Some of the officers on the Board were all for carrying
out the death sentence without further delay."
"How awful!" said Jim.
"Yes,
but wait a moment. Fortunately for Ernest, Judge Hertzog (Now General Hertzog
and Prime Minister of South Africa) was one of the officers on the Board of Enquiry;
he argued in Ernest's favour, saying it would be against all humane practice to
carry out the death sentence. Hertzog carried the day. Ernest was released but
made to sign a parole promising not to enter the Orange Free State or the Transvaal
while hostilities lasted. He reached Kimberley. After resting for a short time
he was sufficiently recovered to join Haig's staff. Hasn't he had the most thrilling
experience?"
"He has indeed; I'll be proud to shake him by the hand, "
said Jim.
The last time Earl Haig visited South Africa there was a parade
in front of the City Hall, Cape Town, when 1,500 ex-servicemen fell into line.
Amongst those present was Ernest Distin. Haig recognised him at once, and as he
shook hands with him he said, "Distin, you are one of the bravest men I have known."
Distin was invited to the Mayor's Parlour where he and Haig talked long and interestedly
of their experiences during the Boer War.
CHAPTER
V
MARRIED
Early
in 1901 Jim spent a week-end in Cradock with the Flemmers and then left for the
Transvaal. He was appointed Intelligence Officer to the Railway Pioneer Regiment.
He had many interesting experiences and hairbreadth escapes. In one of his letters
to Louie he wrote:
" While camping on the Vaal River, our Colonel received
a pathetic message from some Dutch women asking for help as their children were
ill. We could see the farm house from our camp, though it is some distance on
the other side of the river. We set out, the doctor, a couple of men and myself.
The doctor examined the children who certainly were very ill. After he had done
what he could, we re-mounted, and as we rode off from the farm we were fired on
by men in hiding. We rode for our lives, crossed the river, bullets whizzing past
our ears, but reached the camp without a man being hit! When the Colonel was told
of what had happened, he ordered a military force to take the women and children
into custody and destroy the premises. It was most amusing to hear the women quarrelling
when we went over to take them away, each accusing the others' husband of firing
on the men who came to help them in their extremity."
Louie received a
letter from Jim towards the end of 1901 from Meyerton, in the Transvaal, where
he was Commandant, in which he said he had been granted a month's leave of absence
and expected to arrive in Cradock on Christmas Eve and they would be married on
Boxing Day.
Louie's trousseau was complete, even to the wedding dress,
but she decided not to make any further preparations for the wedding until after
Jim's arrival in Cradock. Alas, poor Louie, another disappointment was in store
for her.
On December 20th she received a telegram from Jim which read "Boers
have attacked Meyerton - leave cancelled." This was the second time her wedding
had been postponed; some of her pessimistic friends had much to say about it,
and when they heard that she intended wearing her wedding dress, which was a simple
white frock, when she acted as bridesmaid to her dearest cousin and greatest friend
on February 3rd, 1902, they were horrified. However, so much
for superstition, for Louie's married life was one of the happiest.
As
the Flemmer family sat round the breakfast table on Sunday morning, March 23rd,
they were startled by a knock, followed by the opening of the front door. As they
listened, a quick, firm step could be heard coming up the passage. "Jim!" said
Louie, recognising his step. "I've only got a month's leave," said Jim when they
were alone, "but I'm hoping that my Commanding Officer will send me round on military
service to Durban, which would be a piece of luck, as that will mean we will have
so much longer together. I am sure the War is nearly over; the Boers cannot hold
out for much longer. I must see the Rector and arrange for him to marry us on
Wednesday."
On Jim's return from his interview with the Rector, he said, "The
dear old man was so pleased to see me. Gave me such a welcome. How lucky we are
that he is here in Cradock and no longer in Middelburg! I remember you always
wanted him to marry us. Well, everything is arranged and we are going to be married
on Wednesday."
The happy Sunday passed. In the evening, as the family sat and
chattered, they were greatly surprised by the arrival of the Rector. "I am so
sorry," he said, after greeting the various members. "I was so pleased to see
you safely back," turning to Jim, "that for the moment I forgot that it is Lent.
Next week is Holy Week. You cannot get married until Easter Monday."
"Yes,
that's the only thing for them to do," said Mr Flemmer.
"I am afraid,"
said Jim, "I cannot agree with you. Our wedding has been put off twice already.
We would have been married two years ago if it had not been for this War. Being
in the field I knew nothing about the Church festivals; had I known I would most
certainly have arranged to come down next week. I've been granted one month's
leave, two days of it have been spent travelling. I refuse to have
our wedding put off for the third time. We are going to be married on Wednesday."
"The
Church cannot marry you during Holy Week," said the Rector.
"Then we'll
be married without the Church."
The family was horrified by this statement.
"We'll go to the magistrate," said Jim.
"Surely you would not be married
by the magistrate?" asked the Rector, turning to Louie.
Poor Louie. All
eyes were fixed on her, waiting for her answer. Was life always to be full of
these difficult problems? However, she was determined not to disappoint Jim and
answered bravely, "Yes I will. We are going to be married on Wednesday. If the
Church will not marry us, we will go to the magistrate," she concluded in a firm
tone, as she read the pleasure and approval in Jim's eyes.
"Well," said
the Rector, who had known both Louie and Jim for many, many years. "I cannot let
you be married without the blessing of the Church. I will wire to the Bishop of
Grahamstown tomorrow and ask for special permission for your wedding to take place
on Wednesday." The following day when Jim returned from his second visit to the
Rectory he said, "The Bishop has given his permission but we must be married very
quietly and at 8 a.m."
Louie felt very annoyed and vexed. She did not like
the idea of a quiet wedding nor did she like being married at 8 a.m. However,
on Wednesday, March 26th 1902, a perfect morning, she arrived at the church to
find it crowded - in fact it was so crowded that her Danish Uncle
and Aunt, who were a little late, remained at the entrance. This was fortunate
because as Jim and Louie were leaving the Church, they received loving greetings
from the couple, and had a good view of the fine old gentleman, wearing his beautiful
medal, a gift from the King, Christian IX of Denmark. (The King had been pleased
to honour him by presenting him with this medal when he re-visited the land of
his birth in 1872. He had taken many articles of interest and trophies from South
Africa, which he gave to his King.)
The happy couple found the station
platform crowded with their friends, and they left by train amid a shower of rice,
for New Brighton, near Port Elizabeth.
Here Louie met a lady from Cradock.
As mixed bathing was unheard of in those days, Louie was delighted when her friend
asked her to go bathing with her and she gladly accepted the invitation. She,
however, was unaware of the fact that the proprietor of the hotel had warned ladies
not to bathe, as the sea was most dangerous.
"Dear me," said Louie, "how
terrible the sea looks, just like a huge mountain coming on." "Don't you worry
about that," said her friend, "you hold on to my hand and we shall be alright."
The wave came and knocked Louie off her feet. Fortunately the lady had hold of
her wrist. As the wave broke, the water reached the lady's chest, even though
she was a tall woman. The suction was tremendous, almost dragging her from her
feet. Being a courageous woman she still held on to Louie's wrist and did not
lose heart, but there were moments when she felt that they would both be swept
out to sea. As she thought of her husband and three young children she felt that
such a sacrifice would not be justified. However, stimulated by the realisation
that Louie was a bride on her honeymoon the brave lady made another desperate
effort and managed to drag Louie to safety. Saved!
Jim on hearing of what
might have been a tragedy, was overjoyed to have his little wife safe, and expressed
great appreciation of the lady's courage.
"Jim," said Louie, as
she came into their sitting room a few days later, "I have a letter from mother.
I want to read part of it to you. Listen: 'Claude, as you know, has at last got
his wish and has been taken on at the remount depot'. Being only eighteen, explained
Louie, it was the only military service the authorities would allow him. But to
continue her mothers letter: 'He has had some trying experiences and endured hardships;
taking horses back and forth to Port Elizabeth and sleeping in open trucks amongst
other things. On his last trip he spent his only shilling on two very gaudily
coloured prints for you, one of King Edward and the other of Queen Alexandra,
because he says you are so fond of royalty and he feels sure you will like these
pictures. I am sure you will value them when you know that he was starving - this
because he was delayed in Port Elizabeth and ran out of rations. He was very tempted
to change the pictures for food or money, but did neither because he did not want
you to miss having them. I am sending them under separate cover.'
"Poor
old Claude," Louie loved his unselfishness and treasured the prints for many years.
As
Louie sat in a dentist's chair in Port Elizabeth, undergoing the usual torture
associated with that chair, Jim burst in and said excitedly, "Please allow me
to speak to my wife for a few minutes. I have some exciting news for her. I have
received my orders, Louie, to proceed to Durban as Recruiting Officer. You are
coming with me and now I am on my way to book our passage on the first ship I
can get."
This was indeed thrilling news for Louie, who, until that moment
expected they would part on the following day, she would return to her mother
and Jim to the front - and now - Durban!
It was her first experience of
a big steamer and she thoroughly enjoyed the voyage. "I don't like the idea of
being swung in that basket," said Louie, as she and Jim stood leaning on the rail
of the ship, watching people being lowered on to the tug from the basket. However,
when their turn came it was not as bad as it looked. They spent six weeks in Durban
where they attended the peace celebrations early in May 1902.
"Oh joy!"
exclaimed Louie, "to think the dreadful war is over." "I have orders though,"
said Jim, "to rejoin my Regiment near Pretoria. You will go back to your mother
until I have everything ready for you. I do hope I shall find something left of
our home. Fortunately our furniture is stored in Pretoria, so I expect to find
that alright."
Two months later, Louie left Cradock for Pretoria. She found
the journey very unpleasant, as she resented the military necessity of having
her person searched by a woman at Vereeniging, and on arrival in Pretoria she
experienced the unpleasantness of having her luggage searched.
Jim met
her in Pretoria and they drove out to the farm "The Pyramids" arriving there at
sunset. "Stand on the stoep," said Jim, "and look at the view. Those three foothills
are what gives the farm its name. Look beyond at the Magaliesberg - isn't it beautiful?
Unfortunately the garden is rather far from the homestead. We go down this incline
- there is a narrow path through the grass, but it is a lovely old garden with
an orange grove. You must wait until tomorrow to see it." He then led Louie into
her first home.
"Jim," said Louie, "I am going to do housekeeping for the
first time in my life."
"Well, I hope you won't poison me."
"No,
I won't do that. One thing I can do, I can make bread."
"As long as I have
good bread, I shan't grumble."
Their evenings were spent reading aloud.
Jim was an excellent reader; he read in a charmingly modulated voice, in deep,
soft tones, most pleasing to listen to. He never seemed to tire and would read
for hours on end. They did all their reading together. Both loved history and
had many tastes and interests in common.
"How I am looking forward to this
evening," said Louie a few weeks later, "I think 'The Wandering Jew' is one of
the most exciting books. I am more excited about our next chapter than if I were
going to a dance or theatre."
"How nice it is," said Jim, "that we can
both get so much pleasure from our reading."
Many happy hours were spent in
the shade of the orange orchard. On Sunday mornings Louie and Jim would carry
their book, rug and cushions and spend the whole morning in this well-sheltered
and pleasant spot.
One afternoon as they were coming up from the garden,
Jim suddenly put out his arm across Louie's chest and prevented her from taking
another step. "Whatever is the matter?" "A snake! Your were almost on it!"
The
reptile was slinking into its hole, Jim after it. He stood over the hole, fighting
with the snake, hitting it with his hat. This battle continued for several minutes,
when to Louie's great relief, the snake slipped past Jim's feet into the hole.
"I
did get a fright," said Louie.
"Of course you did, but there was no time
to warn you. Snakes are only dangerous when they are hurt or molested. Had you
trodden on it, as you would have done with your next step, it would almost certainly
have bitten you."
"That is one of the things I don't like about these parts;
too many snakes."
"But there are snakes everywhere! I wonder how many I killed
at Tafelberg Hall! And that in spite of the fact that for years in your grandfather's
time he paid half-a-crown for every snake that was killed. But, as I say, you
need not worry, a snake will never attack you - I would far rather
have a snake in my room than a spider," and Jim shuddered at the mere idea of
a spider.
"I can't agree with you. I certainly don't like spiders - but
snakes! Oh! I could never kill one."
"That is rather much to expect of
you. I hope you will never have the occasion to try. Talking about spiders, did
I tell you that our neighbour's little son was bitten by a spider?"
"No.
What happened?"
"A poisonous black spider bit him on his tummy. The doctor
was sent for but nothing could be done, the child lay as if dead. Everybody expected
that he would die when someone suggested an old witchdoctor. He saved the child's
life."
"How wonderful! I wish I knew their secrets!"
"I have a letter
from my sister Winnie," said Jim one day, "She is coming to
stay with us and I am glad for your sake. Do you realise that you have been on
this farm for eight months and not had an opportunity of speaking to a white woman?"
"It
does not seem so long and what does it matter as long as we are happy? We have
our books, our letters - the time simply flies!"
Winnie, Jim's sister,
arrived the following week and a happy family party gathered round the tea table.
"I've had a letter from my brother Christian, " said Louie, "and he tells me he
has had a dreadful experience."
"Do tell us about it," said Jim, "but please
give me another cup of tea before we begin."
"Winnie, I must explain to
you that Christian has left his farm in charge of a man and has gone as farm manager
to a neighbour. He rides over to his farm every Sunday for an inspection, and
to leave instructions for the week's work. So his house is closed during the week
and opened on Sundays and his dinner served at his own table.
"He tells me
in this letter that after having finished his dinner, he went to his bedroom and
lay down. Thinking how badly the bed was made, he kept digging his elbow against
his side where there seemed to be a lump. After a while he turned on his back.
As he slept, he felt an oppression on his chest and when breathing became difficult
he decided to open his eyes. Winnie, what do you think he saw? Jim, you are not
to answer, you'll spoil my story - Winnie, what did he see?"
"I am sure
I don't know."
"A snake! Yes, a snake! Its head within a few inches of
his nose!"
"Horrors!" exclaimed Winnie.
"He says," continued Louie,
"it was too near to strike him otherwise he would certainly have been bitten."
"Whatever
did he do"" asked Jim.
"You see, the snake was coiled up under his waistcoat
and just had its head sticking out within a few inches of his nose. He leaped
off the bed, jumping about and calling for help, but nobody heard him, the snake
meanwhile, dangling about his legs as he leaped and pranced around. At last it
slipped through the waistcoat, glided along the floor and disappeared into its
hole."
"Oh! How dreadful," exclaimed Winnie.
"Yes, it was horrible.
It makes me think of the experience my grandmother, Mrs Distin, had some years
ago."
"Tell me about it," said Winnie.
"Well, I'll leave you ladies
to your snake stories," said Jim and he went off to his work.
"Tell me about
your Grandmother, Louie. Jim's letters used to be full of all your people and
the beautiful Tafelberg Hall, when he lived there. I feel as if I know them all
and hope some day to visit those parts.""
"You would love Tafelberg Hall,
you are such a gardener. Dear Grandmama, her frock caught alight and she was badly
burnt and was in bed for weeks. During the night a snake used to glide up the
leg of her bed, drink the milk from the cup on the bedside table, then coil itself
up under her pillow, and towards morning would glide away."
"How dreadful,"
said Winnie, "they love milk and they love warmth. I was told a story, so I don't
know if it is true or not:
"A little girl would take her plate of porridge
into the garden saying, 'I want some for my big wormie.' She did this for weeks,
nobody thinking anything about it, but one day her father watched to see what
she meant by 'Big Wormie'. Imagine his horror when he saw a huge snake drinking
from the child's plate, and the child quite rough with it, pushing it away with
her spoon, that she might have her turn at the porridge. Of course, the father
killed the snake and the little girl fretted for a long time."
"Don't let
us talk any more about snakes. Tell me about your children. I am longing to see
them. You must all come and spend a holiday with us. I simply love children and
hope you will come early next year."
Jim and Louie's two eldest
children were born in this their first home, "The Pyramids", twelve miles from
Pretoria.
When Marcus, the eldest, was six months old, Louie sat sewing
as he lay asleep in his perambulator beside her.
"How's the kid?" asked
Jim, as he came in for his tea.
"He's splendid, he has been asleep ever
since dinner."
"That is very nice for you as you've been able to get on
with your sewing. I must have a look at him."
"Be careful not to wake him."
As
Jim leaned over the perambulator to admire his first born, his blood turned cold
with horror as he saw a spider, a poisonous spider on that fair baby cheek! Without
a moment's hesitation, he shot it off with his finger and thumb, as hard as he
could, leaving a red mark on the poor little one's face.
"It does not matter
how much he is hurt or how much he cries," he said, as he watched Louie lift the
baby and comfort him. "he is safe, and that's a mighty close shave. I loathe spiders
and that was a deadly kind, had it bitten him his number would have been up, alright.
What a mercy it is tea time and I came in."
A few weeks later, as they
sat before a glowing fire in their cosy little sitting room, Louie said, "What
are you thinking about, Jim?"
"A holiday."
"A holiday! How perfectly
lovely! Tell me more!"
"Yes, we are going to Cradock to spend a month with
your people, if they will have us."
"How glorious! Of course they will
have us."
"You do love holidays and travelling. I remember how you enjoyed
our trip to Edenburg, when we bought our sheep."
"Oh! That was a perfect
week! How I loved it! Our walks for miles every morning to look at the sheep,
then sitting in that old-world garden with its lovely roses - I can smell them
now."
Jim laughed.
"I agree with the old monk," continued Louie,
"when he said 'Blessed are all flowers but thrice blessed those that have a scent.'
That garden was truly a Garden of Eden to me, a Garden of Eden in Edenburg. How
I loved the hours we spent there, I knitting and you reading aloud 'Romola' and
'Coniston'. I shall never forget those books and they will always be associated
with that happy time in Edenburg. But do let us talk about this holiday."
"Your
father has not seen his first grandson and your mother would like to see him now
that he is more like a human being."
"For shame, Jim, you are a tease."
"And
I know you are anxious to show him to all your friends. Write to your mother tonight
and as soon as we know it is convenient for them to have us, we'll be off to the
Colony to spend a month there."
"How too lovely!" exclaimed Louie, full
of joyous anticipation. She was a very happy person in the preparation of Marcus'
little wardrobe, and in making arrangements for their journey.
At last
the day came. They drove by cart and horses to Pretoria where they caught a train.
Louie's anticipation was fully justified; it was joy to be back in parts where
she had spent so many years of her life.
"I do love Cradock," said Louie
as they gathered round the breakfast table.
"I don't know how you ever
can," protested her sister Olive.
"Isn't it Scott who says:
'Breathes
there a man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my
own, my native land.'
"The Flemmers lived here," continued Louie, "Grandma
Distin was married here, mother and I were both born and married in Cradock, so
I can't help loving it."
"Louie," said her father, "there's been a terrible
murder."
"Yes, I know," said Louie, "Jim and I heard all about it this
morning when we were on the train. Don't let us talk about it."
"One of
the girls you used to teach is involved."
"I know; please don't talk about
it. I can't bear it. Do talk about something else."
The happy month in
Cradock passed all too soon, and once more Louie and Jim are back and settled
on the farm. They were anxious to help a couple, a man and wife, with their four
small children. An outhouse was arranged as a cottage and the family settled in.
It seemed an ideal arrangement, the man to work on the farm, while the woman and
children would make life more interesting for Louie. Fortunately for this family,
Jim was a very observant man. One day, as he passed their door, he noticed the
youngest child, three years of age, with a piece of blue-stone in her hand - deadly
poison of course. He took it from the child and called to her mother, "see," he
said, "what she was about to suck and perhaps swallow. You know how poisonous
it is. I advise you to thoroughly wash her hands and mouth."
"I wonder
how she came by it," said the mother.
"I am afraid I am to blame. Last
evening I was weighing off blue-stone, to dose the sheep, and the few crystals
I did not require I tossed through the pantry window, never thinking of the children.
She must have picked up one of them. I am awfully sorry but feel sure she has
not swallowed any of the blue-stone."
Marcus, who was
about a year old, started vomiting during the afternoon. "He keeps on pointing
at the cup and as fast as he drinks the water he vomits," said Louie.
"Let
him drink as much as he wants," advised Jim.
All through the long afternoon
the vomiting continued. "I had no idea children cold be so ill when they are cutting
their teeth!" said Louie in great distress.
Jim and the lady from the cottage,
who was doing all she could to help, looked at one another, but refrained from
saying what they thought, as they did not want to add to Louie's distress. After
four hours the vomiting ceased and then Jim said to Louie, "I am quite convinced
that Marcus swallowed one of the crystals of the blue-stone."
"But how
could he have done such a thing?"
"Those little children playing around
his perambulator must have picked up a piece and given it to him. As I was passing
the cottage before dinner, I saw Elsa sitting on the door-step, with a piece of
blue-stone in her hand. I took it from her, called her mother and she washed her
hands and mouth. As she has not shown any signs of poisoning, she could not have
swallowed any of it. Marcus most certainly has been suffering from blue-stone
poisoning."
"Oh! Jim, how dreadful! He may still die of exhaustion."
"I
don't think there is any need for you to worry. I am sure he is alright."
Louie
leaned over the cot and watched that precious baby as he lay asleep. It was many
hours before she slept. However, he woke the next morning a perfectly happy and
well baby.
Being two hours by cart from the nearest doctor made Louie and
Jim very self-reliant and independent of medical advice. Though Louie was the
mother of four children, none of them had medical assistance until they had measles,
when Marcus was twelve years of age. Louie had been married for seventeen years
before she had occasion to consult a doctor.
"Don't make a noise, I am
listening," said Jim, as he was in the act of opening a bedroom window before
retiring for the night, "It is a chicken in distress, I'll go out and see what
is wrong." He left the room.
It was bright moonlight. Underneath the bedroom
window was a box, used as a sleeping place for the chickens, a hole cut in the
side allowed the chickens to run in and out. Jim put his hand through the opening
and felt about, thinking the box had been placed on a chicken's foot, and as the
little thing could not release itself, it was making this sound of distress. Passing
his hand over numbers of warm, fluffy bodies, his fingers suddenly touched something
smooth and cold. Quickly withdrawing his hand, he looked around for some weapon
of defence, knowing full well he would need it. He found a piece of plank, holding
it in readiness, he raised the box - an enormous snake lifted itself up, ready
to strike, but one blow from the plank flattened it out. On examining the snake
the next morning, Jim found it had swallowed four chickens and two others were
dead and covered with s limy substance which the reptile had smeared over them.
Jim had a very narrow escape, as the snake did not bite him because it had a chicken
in its mouth.
Before the end of the year, Louie received the sad news that
her Father had passed away.
"All the business has
been completed," said Jim, coming into the sitting room at "The Pyramids" where
Louie sat with her baby, Marjory, a month old, her mother and
sister who were visiting her, and were watching Marcus as he played about with
his toys. "The farm is bought," he continued, "here is the plan. It is ten miles
from Witbank. I want you to decide where we shall build our house. Here is a lovely
spot with good water; here is the old homestead, a ruin." Jim pointed out the
different spots with his pencil. "I am glad there is no house fit to live in.
People always try to alter and patch old places instead of building new ones.
It will be lovely to have a new house according to our own plans."
"This
is the boundary," continued Jim, "the owner of the adjoining farm lives here,
about a mile from the old homestead." "Oh! Jim, do let us have our house here,
near the boundary. It will be nice to be within walking distance of our neighbours."
"Alright, you gregarious little animal - that's where the house will be - now
for a name. What are you going to call the farm?"
"I don't know. I'm thinking.
What is this line here?"
"That is a river. The farm's boundary on three
sides is a river, the Brugspruit."
"Oh! Jim, I have it. We'll call it 'Riverside'."
"Splendid!
A very nice name, 'Riverside' it will be. The old name was 'Hartebeestespruit'
but that name would not do because the original farm had been divided into four
farms and they can't all be called 'Hartebeestespruit'. Our part is 'Riverside'….
We do have another point to discuss, and that is what am I going to do with you
and the babies while I am building the house. There is no place at 'Riverside'
where you can stay - you can't stay here alone. How would you like to go home
with your mother and in three months time I'll come and fetch you?"
"That
would be very nice, but I don't like the idea of leaving you alone in the ruin
of a house."
"Don't worry about that," said Jim, "Vassall will join me
and we'll manage quite well."
"I am glad Vassall is going to be with you.
I am always grateful to him for the many times he has saved your life. Twice from
drowning….."
"No, three times; and at Tafelberg Hall - you remember the
time I was ringing the Bull?"
"Yes, but do tell it to me again."
"How
you do love being told stories; I am sure you remember the incident perfectly:
"Vassall,
a number of native men, and I were in the shed with a wild young bull which had
to have a ring put through its nose. I told the men that should the bull charge,
they must stand perfectly still and no harm would come to them. We got the thong
around the bull's foot, and then somehow he broke away and charged. Every man
fled to safety. I stood. I had to practice what I'd preached. The bull came for
me. I was standing with my back against a manger. Fortunately I was a good deal
thinner than I am now. As he charged, his horns passed on each side of my body,
his forehead was pressed against my chest, and he proceeded to rub me up and down.
There was no skin on my backbone as a result of the close contact with the manger.
When Vassall saw the danger, he shouted to the men to follow him, seized the thong
and by their united efforts they dragged the bull off and we successfully fixed
the ring in his nose."
"How dreadful if one of the horns had gone into you!"
said Louie, shuddering at the thought. "It was lucky that they passed round your
body. I am glad we don't have to farm with wild bulls or ostriches. Though I love
the Colony, I think the Transvaal makes up for the droughts and the hard life
of the farmer."
"Yes, there's a lot to be said for the old Transvaal."
"You
love it," said Louie, "a case of the call of the blood I suppose."
After
her husband's death, Mrs Flemmer had made her home with her son, Christian, who
was acting as farm manager on the farm 'Plaat River' now called 'Springfields.'
Here Louie arrived with her two children, very thrilled to be back in her old
home.
"How strange it must be for you, Mother, to come back," said Louie. "This
is the third time you have made your home in this dear old house, and how it does
bring back my childhood."
"Yes, dear, it is very strange and bitter-sweet;
it is so full of memories. The first three months of our happy married life we
spent here, then we came back when you were ten years old, left after fifteen
years, and after spending four years in Cradock, I am back again."
"Yes, it
must be very, very strange for you," said Louie, gazing at her little mother with
loving sympathy. "What I do love about this house," she continued, "are its thick
mud walls and its thatched roof - and those funny old ceilings. Those huge beams
supporting the ceilings are trees."
It is necessary to have such beams because
there is a layer of reeds and then a thick layer of mud making the floor of the
loft above, that is why the house is so beautifully cool.
"It is very interesting,"
said her mother, "to think people could build such comfortable, substantial houses
so long ago."
"I wonder how old this house is?" asked Louie.
"It is a pity
we don't know," said her mother, "but Father told me of a huge stone on the boundary
on which is carved a sentence in Dutch: 'TODAY I LOOKED FOR CATTLE' and the date
- I don't remember exactly what date, some time in the eighteen thirties."
"Come
along, Louie," called her sister Olive, "you bring the children. I have the cushions
and the rugs. We are going into the garden, under the trees."
"Wait a moment.
I see the boy coming with the post. AH! A letter from Jim," said Louie, "I am
glad to have this letter. I had not heard from him for a week and was feeling
very worried."
`"Well, you need not worry now - you've got your letter."
The
shade of the two large mulberry trees which grew just beyond the garden gates
made an ideal spot for the little group: Marcus on the rug with his toys and picture
books, Marjory asleep in her perambulator, and Louie and Olive with their work.
Louie settled herself comfortably with her letter, the reading of which she was
looking forward to with great pleasure. She read with blanching cheeks and frightened
eyes and many ejaculations of distress.
"Do tell me what the trouble is!" exclaimed
Olive.
"Wait," replied Louie, "until I've finished."
At last the letter
was read and Louie breathed a sigh of relief and thankfulness as she leaned back
amongst the cushions.
"As you know," she said, "all his life Jim has suffered
most cruelly from headaches. Well, he decided to have medical advice on the subject
and went to town to see their old family doctor. 'I will cure your headaches alright
if you will take the medicine,' he said, 'that's the trouble. After one or two
doses the bottle will stand on your wash-stand and be forgotten.'
"Jim promised
to be very good and to take every dose until the bottle was empty. He took the
prescription to a chemist and went home with the medicine and the prescription
in his pocket. The next morning, after breakfast, he dutifully took the dose and
another after the midday meal. In the afternoon he became so violently ill that
both he and Vassall thought he was going to die. They sent for Oom Jan, a dear
man, Jim says, who is our neighbour. When he saw how ill Jim was, he set off immediately
for the local doctor.
"On his arrival, the doctor said, 'You have been poisoned.'
'That's impossible,' said Vassall, 'we are alone and even doing our own cooking.'
'I can't help that, you have been poisoned.'
"After a lot of questions, Jim
told him of the medicine he was taking for his headaches. 'The prescription is
in the pocket of my coat, hanging on the door.' 'Ah! Here we have the answer to
the riddle - someone has made a mistake - one more spoonful of that medicine and
your headaches would indeed have been cured for good and all.'"
"What a dreadful
thing to have happened! Is he alright now?" asked Olive.
"He says he is and
that is why he did not write; he did not want me to know about his illness until
he was quite well."
It took two years for Jim to completely recover from this
experience of poisoning. His headaches were cured very much later in life by a
doctor who advised him to cut out porridge and all sloppy foods - porridge and
bread and milk being his favourite dishes.
At the end of three months, Jim
arrived back at 'Springfields' to take his little family back to the Transvaal.
"I have visited my friends in Cradock," said Louie, "but I am very sad that I
have not been able to go to Tafelberg Hall."
"That is a pity," said Jim, "and
now we must hurry back. I cannot be spared a day longer than is necessary."
The
train journey of a day and a night was quite pleasant; Marjory sleeping peacefully
all the way, and Marcus, who, like his mother loved stories, sat quietly for hours
and listened to story after story. Arrived at Park Station, as the old Johannesburg
station was called in those days, they sat in the station restaurant having their
breakfast, when a train rushed through the station, making a terrific noise. The
whistle was blowing and the station bell clanging as a warning of its approach.
"Don't
be frightened, Daddy, it's only the train," came in Marcus' shrill, childish tones,
which were heard by everybody in the room. Many turned and smiled at the little
fellow. He still had nine days to go before reaching his second birthday.
After her husband's death,
Mrs Flemmer had made her home with her son, Christian, who was acting as farm
manager on the farm 'Plaat River' now called 'Springfields.' Here Louie arrived
with her two children, very thrilled to be back in her old home.
"How strange
it must be for you, Mother, to come back," said Louie. "This is the third time
you have made your home in this dear old house, and how it does bring back my
childhood."
"Yes, dear, it is very strange and bitter-sweet; it is so full
of memories. The first three months of our happy married life we spent here, then
we came back when you were ten years old, left after fifteen years, and after
spending four years in Cradock, I am back again."
"Yes, it must be very,
very strange for you," said Louie, gazing at her little mother with loving sympathy.
"What I do love about this house," she continued, "are its thick mud walls and
its thatched roof - and those funny old ceilings. Those huge beams supporting
the ceilings are trees."
It is necessary to have such beams because there
is a layer of reeds and then a thick layer of mud making the floor of the loft
above, that is why the house is so beautifully cool.
"It is very interesting,"
said her mother, "to think people could build such comfortable, substantial houses
so long ago."
"I wonder how old this house is?" asked Louie.
"It
is a pity we don't know," said her mother, "but Father told me of a huge stone
on the boundary on which is carved a sentence in Dutch: 'TODAY I LOOKED FOR CATTLE'
and the date - I don't remember exactly what date, some time in the eighteen thirties."
"Come
along, Louie," called her sister Olive, "you bring the children. I have the cushions
and the rugs. We are going into the garden, under the trees."
"Wait a moment.
I see the boy coming with the post. AH! A letter from Jim," said Louie, "I am
glad to have this letter. I had not heard from him for a week and was feeling
very worried."
`"Well, you need not worry now - you've got your letter."
The
shade of the two large mulberry trees which grew just beyond the garden gates
made an ideal spot for the little group: Marcus on the rug with his toys and picture
books, Marjory asleep in her perambulator, and Louie and Olive with their work.
Louie settled herself comfortably with her letter, the reading of which she was
looking forward to with great pleasure. She read with blanching cheeks and frightened
eyes and many ejaculations of distress.
"Do tell me what the trouble is!"
exclaimed Olive.
"Wait," replied Louie, "until I've finished."
At
last the letter was read and Louie breathed a sigh of relief and thankfulness
as she leaned back amongst the cushions.
"As you know," she said, "all
his life Jim has suffered most cruelly from headaches. Well, he decided to have
medical advice on the subject and went to town to see their old family doctor.
'I will cure your headaches alright if you will take the medicine,' he said, 'that's
the trouble. After one or two doses the bottle will stand on your wash-stand and
be forgotten.'
"Jim promised to be very good and to take every dose until
the bottle was empty. He took the prescription to a chemist and went home with
the medicine and the prescription in his pocket. The next morning, after breakfast,
he dutifully took the dose and another after the midday meal. In the afternoon
he became so violently ill that both he and Vassall thought he was going to die.
They sent for Oom Jan, a dear man, Jim says, who is our neighbour. When he saw
how ill Jim was, he set off immediately for the local doctor.
"On his arrival,
the doctor said, 'You have been poisoned.' 'That's impossible,' said Vassall,
'we are alone and even doing our own cooking.' 'I can't help that, you have been
poisoned.'
"After a lot of questions, Jim told him of the medicine he was
taking for his headaches. 'The prescription is in the pocket of my coat, hanging
on the door.' 'Ah! Here we have the answer to the riddle - someone has made a
mistake - one more spoonful of that medicine and your headaches would indeed have
been cured for good and all.'"
"What a dreadful thing to have happened!
Is he alright now?" asked Olive.
"He says he is and that is why he did
not write; he did not want me to know about his illness until he was quite well."
It
took two years for Jim to completely recover from this experience of poisoning.
His headaches were cured very much later in life by a doctor who advised him to
cut out porridge and all sloppy foods - porridge and bread and milk being his
favourite dishes.
At the end of three months, Jim arrived back at 'Springfields'
to take his little family back to the Transvaal. "I have visited my friends in
Cradock," said Louie, "but I am very sad that I have not been able to go to Tafelberg
Hall."
"That is a pity," said Jim, "and now we must hurry back. I cannot
be spared a day longer than is necessary."
The train journey of a day and
a night was quite pleasant; Marjory sleeping peacefully all the way, and Marcus,
who, like his mother loved stories, sat quietly for hours and listened to story
after story. Arrived at Park Station, as the old Johannesburg station was called
in those days, they sat in the station restaurant having their breakfast, when
a train rushed through the station, making a terrific noise. The whistle was blowing
and the station bell clanging as a warning of its approach.
"Don't be frightened,
Daddy, it's only the train," came in Marcus' shrill, childish tones, which were
heard by everybody in the room. Many turned and smiled at the little fellow. He
still had nine days to go before reaching his second birthday.
CHAPTER
VI
RIVERSIDE
PART I
On
the first day of the year 1905, the little family arrived in their new home, RIVERSIDE.
Proudly Jim showed his wife the well-built house. Joy filled their hearts in the
proud possession of their own property, a they passed through the lofty rooms.
It was a home planned to suit their ideas of comfort and convenience, and now
that it was complete they were more than satisfied.
"I think it is perfect,"
said Louie. "I had no idea when we worked at the plan that it would be as nice
as this!"
"I am glad that you are so pleased but I am afraid that you will
miss your beautiful view of the Magaliesberg which you so loved and enjoyed."
"It
certainly was wonderful looking across at that magnificent range of mountains,
especially at sunset, but I would far rather have this farm, knowing that it is
our own, our very own, than any view in the world."
"I am glad that you
feel like that," said Jim, much relieved to find that Louie was not disappointed
in the farm he had had to buy without her first seeing what was to be her new
home. "Come on to the stoep," continued Jim as he led her out. "Unfortunately,
the few trees we have planted are a good distance from the house; but I have transplanted
one of the full-grown peach trees at your bedroom window, for you to have some
shade when you are out with the children."
"That will be nice, I hope it
will grow!"
"Of course it will grow," replied Jim with energy, "it does
not know it has been moved."
"How lovely that sheet of water looks in this
sunset glow."
"Yes, it is pretty, that dam was a brainwave."
"Yes?
In what way?"
"I killed two birds with one stone. While we were making
the bricks for the house, we were making the dam. It is being filled with water
from a fountain which flows from the foot of the rise about a mile away."
"What
a splendid idea. I have got something beautiful to look at."
"Do you see
that row of peach trees beyond the road? Well, that is where I am going to plant
an orchard, mostly apples. In the enclosure round the house I am going to plant
seventy-two trees - you won't be long without shade. The men are now digging the
holes."
"How lovely it will be when there are tall evergreen trees, waving
their lofty branches and casting their cool shade over all this bare, barren ground
- I can just see it all," said Louie, in keen anticipation of what the future
held in improvement and comfort of their property.
Many months later Jim
sat reading his newspaper, and Louie was occupied with her knitting.
"I
don't know what the country is coming to! I cannot understand how the Government
could have imported these Chinese labourers for the mines."
"Have they
not proved a success?" asked Louie.
"A success! I should think not. They
are deserting as fast as they can, their one idea being to get to the sea, to
get back to China. They are thieving and murdering as they go."
"Oh! Jim,
how dreadful. I am glad we are not on the high road to the sea! They would never
come to such an out of the way farm as this is, ten miles from the railway?"
"That's
just the trouble. A family, not twenty miles from here, has been visited by a
band of Chinamen; they stabbed the man when he opened his front door in answer
to their knock. They also stabbed the woman and her child. Though the man is dead,
it is thought the others will live."
"How perfectly dreadful!" exclaimed
Louie, much distressed.
"Yes, and as a result of this last outrageous act,
the district has decided to hold a mass meeting on Vassall's farm." (Jim and Vassal's
farms lay two miles apart) "With the object of asking the Government for arms
and ammunition so that the farmers may be able to defend themselves against the
Chinamen."
"Dear me! How dreadful it is to think that we are in danger
from such attacks!"
A few days later, when Jim returned from the meeting,
Louie met him in the hall, all excitement to hear what had taken place.
"Come
in here," said Louie, leading the way to the drawing room, "where we will be undisturbed."
Placing a chair for his wife and sitting down beside her, Jim described the proceedings
with great energy and excitement.
"The farmers rolled up in force and we
had a most interesting meeting," said Jim. "It was unanimously decided that a
delegate must be chosen to go to Pretoria to ask Sir Arthur Lawley for arms and
ammunition."
"Yes," interrupted Louie, fear in her eyes as her intuition
told her what she dreaded to hear, "who is the delegate?"
"They are sending
me."
"No, Jim, they cannot. You cannot go and leave me alone with the children."
"Of
course I can't. If you would have a little patience and let me finish what I am
saying, you would not be unnecessarily worried. I told the meeting that I absolutely
refused to go unless Gert van Rensburg and his wife be appointed by the meeting
to take charge of my wife and home during my absence. This was done. You know
Gert is one of the bravest men I've ever known; so you have no need for anxiety,
he is capable of dealing with any situation."
"Are they coming?"
"Yes,
there was no trouble about that, they will be here at sunset. I leave for Pretoria
this afternoon."
"Jim, I do wish you didn't have to go!"
"I'll be
back again before you can say knife!" he said reassuringly.
"I suppose
I had better go and make the necessary preparations for my visitors. I do wish
you were not going away!"
Louie had seen Jim drive off to Witbank where
he would catch the train to Pretoria; taking her knitting, she seated herself
on the stoep, enjoying the lovely afternoon. She was startled by hasty footsteps
hurrying towards her. "What is the matter, Martha?" she exclaimed in anxious,
frightened tones as she caught sight of the fifteen year old daughter from the
neighbouring farm "Nothing, nothing, don't be alarmed," Martha reassured her,
"I have come with a message from my mother.""
"Dear me! What a relief;
I thought you had the Chinamen with you."
"Heavens no," said Martha, laughing,
"Mrs Rous, mother wishes to know if you will be so kind as to allow us to come
over and sleep in your house tonight. Father is in the Bushveld collecting wood
and has not returned. We are afraid to be alone."
"Of course you may come,
and welcome. I shall be very glad to have you. What a pity your brother is not
older! We shall be a crowd of women and children for Gert to defend. Let me see,
there is your grandmother, your mother and her three children and my family and
Gert's wife - nine of us! Give your mother my love and tell her to come over as
soon as she can,"
When the household were about to retire, Louie said,
"Gert, this is Jim's Mauser pistol which he carried during the Boer War. You must
have it. I do hope you won't have occasion to use it! How I wish this night was
passed and that it was tomorrow!"
"I am sure there is nothing to worry
about," Gert replied, "I would keep an army at bay with this revolver."
"Heavens!"
thought Louie, as she sat up in bed an hour later and listened to the banging
on the front door. "During all the months we have been on this farm, no one has
ever knocked on our front door at night, and tonight of all nights! It must be
the Chinamen!"
She lit the candle, slipped into her dressing gown and slippers,
paused for a moment to gaze at her two sleeping little ones as they lay in their
cots; then, with the lighted candle in her hand, she stole softly across the room.
She opened a door leading into the hall, a large square room with the front door
at the further end. She was greatly relieved to see Gert van Rensburg standing
in his bedroom door, Jim's Mauser pistol grasped in his huge hand, levelled at
the front door. Beside him stood his wife, grasping the flickering candle, whose
yellow, uncertain light cast dancing shadows on the wall, thus adding to the tenseness
of the situation. It seemed to Louie that her heart would stop beating. White
faced and with terror in her eyes, the two women gazed at one another.
"Who
knocks?" asked Gert in a loud voice, first in Dutch and then in English.
More
bangs were the only answer.
This brought Martha's family on to the scene,
mother and children crowding behind Gert and his wife,
Again the loud knocking
and again Gert shouted, "Who knocks? If you don't answer I am going to fire through
the door and shoot you dead!"
A roar of laughter! Every member of the little
group at once recognised that voice; it was the husband of the woman who had taken
refuge with Louie. He had returned from the Bushveld to find his house locked
and his family missing. He guessed at once where they were so had come over to
fetch the key of the house and have his little joke.
"By Jove, man!" said
Gert, " you will never be nearer your death, without being dead, than you were
tonight."
On Jim's return he was much annoyed at being told of the episode.
"If Gert were not the brave man he is, Klaas would have been shot dead," he declared.
"Nine men out of ten would have fired through the door as the person knocked,
but being brave, he gave the other fellow a chance. I do hate these practical
jokes."
"Yes, it was very foolish of him. What was so dreadful, Jim, was
that if they had been Chinamen they could not have understood either Dutch or
English, and when we got no answer to Gert's question I felt sure that at least
a dozen Chinamen were on the stoep!"
"Never mind," said Jim feelingly,
"it is all over now. Don't think any more about it. My trip to Pretoria was quite
successful, and the farmers will be supplied with firearms."
Six weeks
later, Louie's twin sons were born; they were fine, healthy
boys, and so much alike it was impossible to tell one from the other.
"Jim,"
said Louie as they sat down to supper, "I am so upset; I find I have overfed one
of the twins and starved the other. I can't tell one from the other. What can
we do to distinguish them?"
"I'm sure I don't know," said Jim, laughing.
"How
can you laugh?" said Louie, joining in the mirth.
"We must think of some
way to mark them. Had they been little lambs, an earmark would have solved the
problem."
"Jim, I know, I have a gold chain."
"That's an idea; we'll
toss and see which of them must wear the chain! Heads for Graham and tails for
Leslie. Graham's got it….!" Said Jim as he tossed the coin.
Graham wore
the chain for three years; it was given to him when he grew to manhood and is
often worn by his sweet wife, Joan.
Louie never regretted having chosen
the old homestead as the site for their house - a mile from their neighbours.
Many a pleasant afternoon was spent walking over and chatting to their Dutch friends.
Oom Jan was one of Nature's gentlemen, quite illiterate, but a good farmer. He
used to say, "If I went to school I should pass Standard I, but in farming I should
pass Standard VIII."
When the twins were four months old and Jim away from
home, Louie was very upset and worried about Graham; he could not cry, just catching
his breath in little fitful, gasping moans. This continued all through the day,
in spite of the many home remedies which Louie used. In the afternoon she sent
a messenger to the Jouberts. Oom Jan and his wife hurried over to her assistance.
They decided that Louie could not be left alone for the night; that there was
nothing for it but for them to stay.
After Graham had been bathed, his fitful
moaning and feeble wailing were so distressing that Oom Jan asked to be allowed
to hold him. Taking the baby in his arms he paced the floor back and forth; this
motion so soothed the child that he slept. Fearing to disturb this gentle sleep,
Oom Jan sat gingerly on the edge of a chair, still holding him. For two hours
this son of the soil, a giant of over six feet, sat as still as death, until his
granite joints were so cramped that he could not move if he wished to do so. His
wife's effort to give him a cup of coffee was met by an angry scowl, Oom Jan gazing
wrathfully at her, not daring to shake his head. Nature was this restored when
Graham woke - the dreadful moaning had ceased and he was quite normal.
Louie
thanked her patient friend with a warm handclasp as they retired for the night.
It was impossible for her to find words to express her gratitude.
Farmers
living in the Highveld or Middleveld of the Transvaal trekked to the Bushveld
every winter, where they can experience warm sunny days, and where they can have
plenty of feed for their animals. They would lock up their houses and trek with
their servants and all their livestock, cows, horses, sheep, pigs, fowls, dogs
and cats. The farm was left absolutely desolate during their absence. When the
twins were nine months old, the family had their first experience of trekking
to the Bushveld.
Louie found the servant question a great problem as she
disliked having men in the house to do the work. "I have a nice surprise for you,"
said Jim one day after they had returned from the Bushveld.
"What is it?
I do love surprises!"
"I'm sure you will like this on - it is a dear old
kaffir woman."
"Jim, how exciting!"
"Yes, she has quite an exciting
history. Her name is old 'Ayeh Diena' - she was sold on the Lichtenburg Market
Square after one of those petty wars the Transvaal used to wage against the native
tribes. Imagine, she was sold for ten pounds when she was about twelve years old
and the condition was that she had to work for her master for twenty-one years!
Mr Porter bought her and she served him faithfully for twenty-eight years. She
married and has a large family. She is here with several of her sons and a couple
of granddaughters. She only left her master because the Boer War broke up their
home. As they lived not very far from here, she feels this is her own country
and is anxious to settle here and for them all to work for us."
"How wonderful!
Do let us go out, I am anxious to see the old woman."
"Never mind how ugly
she is. If she's good, we'll love her."
She was good and Louie did grow
to love her, for she served her well and faithfully all the time the family lived
at Riverside.
"Come and look at my seventy-two trees," said Jim, as he
met Louie coming out of the front door.
Together they strolled around the
homestead.
"They are growing beautifully; how splendid it will be when
we have their lovely shade," exclaimed Louie.
"Yes, I am very pleased with
their growth; come along down to the orchard, seven hundred trees are growing
there and getting on like a house on fire, and all the plantations I have sown
with wattles are coming up like hairs on a dog's back. Of course, being in this
area, surrounded by coal mines, trees would do well."
"I am so glad about
that broad belt of wattles you have sown on the way to Witbank; it will be so
lovely driving amongst a mass of evergreen trees. But I am so impatient
for the fruit trees to be full bearing."
"Well, it won't be more than a
few years before you will have that pleasure," replied Jim.
"We must hurry
back now, Jim, it's time for the children's supper. Oh! We have been having such
fun with the twins, they don't know themselves."
"Whatever do you mean?"
Jim asked.
"Well, when I lift Graham up to the mirror and say 'who's that?'
he answers 'Leslie' and when I lift Leslie up and ask him the same question he
says 'it's Graham'."
"How amusing! They are ridiculously alike. It is just
as well Graham is wearing that chain around his neck. What do you say to going
for a picnic tomorrow?"
"How lovely! Where shall we go?"
"Not very
far, about halfway to Witbank. A deserted farm where there is a nice old garden,
I think you will enjoy spending the day there."
"Indeed I shall, and so
will the children."
"We'll all pack into the old Cape cart; I must have
a boy to help me and you will want a nurse."
"What a blessing the cart
is so big and roomy! It reminds me of the old cart at Plaat River, in which I
drove twice a week to Tafelberg Hall for years and years to School."
"Yes,
it is rather like your father's cart but my horses are very different."
"Dear
old Bokkie and Stopper! They always got us there in the end, anyhow."
"Heavens!
But what a pace to go at."
"After all, Jim, I do think it is a pity to
be always in a hurry. We are so apt to lose the joy of the road, by the thought
of our destination, both in travelling and living our lives; let us go a bit slow
so as not to miss the joy that may be there. Life is so beautiful and we have
so very much to be thankful for."
The next day dawned bright and clear,
though very cold. The picnic was enjoyed by everyone. In the afternoon the horses
were inspanned and the family packed in. Jim, Marcus and the native boy on the
front seat, Louie, Marjory and the twins and the little nursemaid on the back
seat. The horses behaved very badly, because Jim said they were cold, one horse
would not pull and the other pulled too hard. Over went the cart!
Fortunately
Jim saw what was going to happen and as it capsized, he leaped out and dashed
for the horses' heads, holding them firmly and keeping them from bolting. This,
of course, saved the family, who were scrambling about in the tent, struggling
under the rugs, cushion, picnic basket and what not! As Jim stood in front of
the horses, he saw everyone scramble out and reach a place of safety, except Marcus,
who lay quite still with the front seat on his neck and his leg under the wheel.
Calling to the native boy to take charge of the horses, Jim dashed round, lifted
the wheel and called to Marcus. Louie had also seen Marcus and was able to help
him up. He had been stunned, and but for a few scratches he was unhurt. Leslie
was crying most bitterly; he was the only one making a noise, and enough noise
to beat the band, said Jim.
"Why are you crying?" asked his mother, taking
him into her arms. He held out his tiny foot, showing that his shoe was gone.
A search was made for the shoe and when this was restored the child was happy
once more.
With a great deal of trouble the cart was righted and the family
packed in - no sooner had the journey begun again than Graham lifted his voice
and wept. "What are you crying about? What's the matter with you?" asked Jim.
The
twins were eighteen months old at this time, and Graham's answer to his father's
enquiry is hard to describe. He blew through his lips to imitate a horse and said
"Hurt me….P-U-R-R-R hurt me."
"Never mind, you poor little man. They won't
hurt you again. See how nicely they are trotting."
All safely home at last
and the children tucked in for the night. The peace and love of those long, delightful
winter evenings were loved by Jim and Louie, as they sat before a glowing fire
- he reading aloud and she knitting. One of the rules of the house was "No sewing
in the evening."
"Jim," said Louie the next day, "the children seem quite
upset as a result of yesterday's shock, the cart turning over. Marcus is so limp
and restless, he is on the sofa in the drawing room."
"Just as well to
keep him quiet. I expect he'll be alright tomorrow."
When Jim came in at
sunset he found Louie busy with the preparations for the children's supper. "Marcus
is still lying on the sofa," she said, "do go and cheer him up - there's a lovely
fire in the drawing room."
"By Jove! I'm looking forward to getting in
front of a fire, I am perished." So saying, Jim went off.
"Well, old chap,
you've had a nice lazy day lying here. Feeling better?"
"Yes, Dad."
"I
envy you this nice warm room. I'm as cold as ice," said Jim, as he drew a chair
as close to the fire as he cold and then leaned right over, almost with his hands
in the flames. "Ah! This is lovely!" and then, happening to glance round, he noticed
that the blind had not been drawn. He rose, crossed the room and as his hand touched
the blind, there was the most terrific explosion.
Louie came rushing into
the room. Jim was still standing with his hand on the undrawn blind, the whole
room was strewn with bits of burning coal.
"Whatever's happened?" asked
Louie as she and Jim set to work removing the bits of burning coal.
"Good
heavens!" exclaimed Jim, "look where I was sitting. I got up to draw the blind
and the explosion took place. Look! The whole of the back of the fireplace is
blown out."
"How awful! But what happened?" asked Louie, "I don't understand
what caused the explosion."
"A dud cartridge apparently. One that did not
explode in the mine thought fit to go off now."
"Oh! How thankful I am
that you are safe! What a mercy that you got up to draw that blind! I cannot bear
to think what injury you would have received had you been in the chair when the
cartridge exploded."
"Well, don't let us worry about what might have been!
We are all safe and the only damage done is to the fireplace. I'll be able to
build that in again and you will never know the difference.
"How delightful
it is to be looking forward to our trip to the Bushveld; the rest and peace and
the holiday from housekeeping. One's duties seem so much easier when in the open.
It will be nice having Mother, Edith and Olive."
"Isn't Gertrude coming
too?"
"Yes, with her five children; we shall have a happy crowd and I am
particularly glad that our children will have the companionship of the other children."
"Yes,
I expect they should be having some of the corners rubbed off."
"Oh no!
Jim they are far too young for that."
"I will drive down to our camping
ground a few days before we trek, and build a hut for our family, because your
mother with her two daughters must have our tent, and of course Gertrude is bringing
her own tent."
Louie was indeed a very busy person for the next few weeks,
thinking and planning and making preparations for the day's trek and the two months'
camping. There was no way of obtaining provisions once they were in camp. Every
week a native would be sent on horseback, a distance of about fifty miles to Witbank
to get the post - and would be able to bring some small item which he would carry
in the saddle bag - otherwise they would have to do without things that were forgotten.
At
last the day dawned and the wagon stood ready, packed with bedsteads, bedding,
furniture, provisions and clothes for nine children and six grown-ups, besides
provisions for two native servant boys for two months. The journey began in the
very early hours of a winter morning because it was necessary to reach their destination
before nightfall, as there was much settling in to do before dark.
The
day was perfect, brilliant sunshine and no wind, truly a typical South African
mid-winter day. The children, especially the five little visitors, whose lives
were spent in a town, and who were having their first experience of a trek by
an ox-wagon, were wild with excitement. It was a delightful journey; everybody
was full of joyous anticipation of the coming holiday and camp life.
"What
a lovely spot you have chosen," said Louie as Jim helped her to alight. "Those
mountains, these glorious big trees - how snug and sheltered it all looks."
"Yes,
and the water is handy, a beautiful stream runs along the foot of the mountains
and down the valley you see to your right. I do think this spot would be hard
to beat."
"I had no idea anything so charming cold be found in the Bushveld.
Come, I am so anxious to see our hut. Oh! Jim, it is a huge room! However
did you do it?"
"It will be a room," he said proudly, "when it has its
roof. I planted two rows of young saplings twelve feet apart and drew the tops
together to form the roof. When I have covered that roof with a buck-sail it will
be complete. The sides and ends are thatched with elephant grass and this opening
I have made for a window, see, you have a roller blind!"
"How lovely!"
exclaimed Louie, "I see it is a sugar bag with a stick in it."
"Yes, and
when you want your window open, just roll up and tie it like this. The doorway
has an old curtain which will hang across the opening. Look at these - you remember
how mystified you were about those baize curtains I made you pack? Well, just
here in the middle of the room we are going to hang them, dividing this space
into two rooms."
"Jim, how splendid, that will be our bedroom, this our
living-room! It will make both rooms so cosy and nice and we can draw the curtains
aside when we wish to. Oh!," continued Louie, with a deep sigh of contentment,
"I think it is all perfect. I wish we could stay here for six months instead of
two."
"You won't wish that when summer comes."
"No, I suppose not.
I'm so pleased with all the arrangements you've made, you've thought of everything."
"I
am glad you are satisfied. We must get busy now, I'll put up the bedsteads for
you so that you can make the beds, while I fix the other tents."
NIGHTFALL:
"How
quickly it gets dark," said Gertrude, "a couple of minutes ago the sun was shining
and now - dark!"
"Yes, that is why I made such an early start, and why
we've been working with top speed. It is miserable if it gets dark before you
are settled - prowling about looking for things with a lantern is most unpleasant,
and you never can find what you are looking for. What a beautiful night. Look
at the starry heaven; can anything beat that?'
"What a glorious fire,"
said Olive, coming out of the tent she shared with her mother and sister. "It
has turned quite cold! What a sudden change from the heat of the day. How nice
to have a fire, and such a fire! What enormous logs!"
"I cannot bear a
half-hearted fire at any time, but especially in the Bushveld," said Jim as he
settled himself in a comfortable chair, which he had provided as he hated a camp
stool. "The evening fire is one of my joys while we are in camp. I love piling
on these great logs."
"Does this make you think of your days on the road
when you did transport riding?" asked Gertrude, shading her face from the blaze.
"No
indeed! We never experienced anything so luxurious and comfortable as this camp
- or this fire."
"Please do not speak of those days, it makes me too miserable,"
said Louie. "I cannot bear to think of the hardships you endured and the thrashing
that brute of a native gave you."
"Do tell us about it," came a chorus
of voices.
"Well, wait until I take the children to bed. It does so upset
me to hear you tell of that experience."
The story of the brutal thrashing
Jim experienced at the hands of a native brought tears to Gertrude's eyes. Wiping
them away impatiently, she stamped her foot. "I wish I had been there," she exclaimed,
"I do believe I would have shot him!" (Gertrude was the proud possessor of a saloon
rifle.)
"Oh! Gertrude," protested Olive, "how blood-thirsty you are! The
thought of shooting a man!"
"I don't think so," replied Gertrude indignantly,
"I would have been doing a service to mankind."
"Stop arguing," teased
Jim, "and let me tell you about tomorrow's programme. The first thing I must do
is make our dwelling place safe."
"SAFE - safe from what?" asked
Gertrude.
"From fire. Bushveld fires are the dread of everyone who camps,
and to prevent fire from burning us out we protect ourselves by burning a wide
strip of grass right around the camp, a firebreak we call it. This is done by
setting the grass alight, controlling the flames with wet sacks, and burning a
wide strip around the camp. Should the grass catch alight some distance off, it
will burn as far as our fire-belt. The children must be kept near the tents, out
of the way of the workers and the flames. An accident might easily happen."
"May
we all come and watch?"
"Certainly, but I must warn you that it will be
hot and unpleasant."
The following morning, the holiday-makers, breathless
with excitement and filled with foreboding at the thought of what would happen
should Jim lose control of the flames; watched him as he and his two servants,
equipped with buckets of water and wet bags with which they could control the
leaping flames, set fire to the grass. Flying embers and smoke occasionally hid
the workers, then they could be seen as they allowed the flames to creep in one
direction, and when the greedy flames seemed to the watchers to beyond control,
they would be promptly smothered by the application of the wet sacks.
At
last the task was successfully accomplished and everybody gathered aorund the
table where Mrs Flemmer had a family teapot, the contents of which were most refreshing
after the morning's experience.
"What are you doing, Dad?" asked Marjory
a few days later, as she came upon Jim busy at work.
"This is going to
be a surprise for Mother. You can all come and help if you like. Gather all the
stones you can find and place them here; the more stones I have the better. I
am building a solid round table of mud and stones for Mother to do the cooking
on instead of the ground."
When completed the table of mud and stones was
a great success. Instead of bending over a fire on the ground, with heat, flames
and smoke in one's face, it was now possible to stand and attend to the cooking.
The convenience and comfort Louie derived more than repaid Jim for his work.
The
next piece of work was an oven. This was built in the shape of a wagon tent, with
an opening in the front and a small opening in the back to enable the fire to
draw. When required for baking, a fire was made in the oven, then all the coals
were scraped out and the temperature tested. This was done by Louie inserting
her hand whilst she counted to ten. If she could hold it for longer, the oven
was too cool and if not so long, it was too hot. The bread, which had been set
in pans to rise was placed in the oven and both the front opening and the hole
at the back sealed for two hours. The bread baked in this way was always a roaring
success.
"What are we going to do this evening? What about a game of bridge?"
suggested Olive, as after the evening meal they all gathered round the fire.
"Oh,
no! Not tonight. Let us talk," pleaded Louie.
"Very well, you begin."
"That
is not the way to encourage conversation, Olive. I know, let each tell a true
story. Mother, won't you begin?"
"Oh, my dear, I cannot."
"I am
sure you can. Tell us something about your childhood."
"You have heard
so often all that I ever did. Perhaps I could tell you something about Father."
"Yes,
do, that would be lovely!"
"Louie, are you never going to grow up?" asked
Jim.
"Not if by growing up you mean no more stories. Yes, Mother."
"When
your father was a little boy, one day his mother missed him. On going out into
the street to look for him she was greatly distressed to see him at the top of
a very high ladder reaching to the roof of one of the houses. The houses, you
know, in Denmark are four or five storeys high, and there he was perched right
at the top of the ladder,"
"Whatever did she do?"
"She hurried into
the house and told her husband, who said 'We must be careful not to frighten him.
You go out and tell him how clever he is, tell him to stay up there because you
want his daddy to see what a big boy he is to have climbed the ladder!'
When
Dr Flemmer came out of the house, he called to his little son, saying he was coming
up to join him. 'Hold tight, hold tight.' Soon the doctor was beside him. Taking
him in his arms, he carried him down. On reaching the ground he received a sound
whipping."
"Oh! Poor little boy, what a shame," said Olive, "I cannot bear
children to be whipped."
"That was most interesting. Can you remember something
more of father's boyhood?" asked Louie.
"Louie, you are insatiable," said
Jim.
Smiling at Louie, Mrs Flemmer said, "While your father was still three
years of age, the doctor and his brother were walking in the garden one day, when
they spied Ludvig playing in the water. You know there is sea everywhere in Denmark
and the sea came almost to the garden gate. 'Oh, dear,' said the doctor, 'I do
not know how to cure Ludvig of his love of water. I am afraid we shall find him
drowned one of these days.' 'I'll soon cure him,' said his uncle, and stepping
through the gate, he seized the child and flung him far out into the sea."
"Oh!
What a dreadful thing to do," exclaimed Louie.
"They watched, and as he
came to the surface, what was their surprise to see the little fellow with a broad
grin on his face. Yes, he was LAUGHING as he shook the water out of his
eyes! His uncle had to wade in and rescue him, very disgusted at the failure of
his lesson. 'The little beggar thinks I'm playing with him and that this is part
of the game,' he said, carrying the child back to the house to his mother, while
the doctor leaned against the garden gate, convulsed with laughter at his brother's
sorry plight."
"What a dear little fellow he must have been, but I do think
tossing a child into the water was a dangerous thing to do," said Gertrude.
"They
did so many strange things in those days," said Mrs Flemmer, "but I think that
Dr Flemmer's way of teaching his children to swim was the strangest of all. He
would take them out in a boat and when well out, would tie a rope around the child's
waist and let it over the side. That is how he taught all his children to swim,
and he used to be very much amused when he overheard the fisher folk say, 'There
goes Dr Flemmer to drown his children.'"
"How amusing," said Olive, 'I
remember Father teaching us to swim."
"Yes, your father thought it necessary
for everyone to be able to swim as so often a drowning accident could be avoided
if people could only swim. Your grand-father, Mr Distin, saved his life on two
occasions by being able to swim," continued Mrs Flemmer, "once in a full river
he was trying to cross, and another time in 1874 when there were such terrific
rains and floods in the Colony, and we all expected the big dam at Tafelberg Hall
to break."
"How exciting!"
"There was danger that if the main wall
broke the homestead would be washed away. My father, his sons and the servants
spent all night at the dam; it had been arranged beforehand that should there
be any sign of the wall breaking, the farm bell would be rung as an alarm. The
wagons stood ready inspanned to convey the family to higher ground should it be
necessary. We all went to bed fully dressed. My father was walking on the retaining
wall; on the side away from the house when it broke and landed him in the swirling
waters. He was, as I said, a strong swimmer and swam to safety, thankful that
all the danger was past, as because of the breaking on the retaining wall, the
pressure on the main wall was relieved. We, of course, knew nothing of his experience
until the following morning."
"How thrilling," said Gertrude, "I thought
farming was all fun; that one spent one's life hunting, shooting and camping and
just enjoying oneself. I should have hated that ducking at that time of night."
"Come
along to bed now," said Jim, "I think we are all sleepy."
The weather remained
ideal; the days were warm, bright and sunny, the nights cold and starlit. Everybody
was happy and so peace reigned in their midst, to the great delight of Louie.
Every
day, after the midday meal, the occupants of the little camp would retire for
the usual South African siesta - everybody except Jim; in fact he intensely disliked
this habit and always found something of interest to occupy him.
"I am
going for a very long walk this afternoon while you lazy people sleep, and don't
expect me back before tea."
Louie was startled half an hour later by hearing
his quick running footsteps.
"Whatever has happened?" she asked, as she
rushed out of their hut to meet him.
"My dear, the worst! A veld fire!
The wind is in this direction!"
"Oh! Jim, how dreadful!"
"Yes, rouse
everybody, even the children. The fire is a good way behind those koppies, but
it is coming on to us, it will come through that opening. We must make ourselves
absolutely secure by widening our fire belt. Your mother, the younger children
and the horses must remain in the very centre of that camp, beside that tree,
and the rest must work."
All through the long hot hours they carried water
to where Jim, with the two native men, were setting alight the grass and beating
out the flames with wet bags. Water splashed on their clothes and shoes, and the
black burned grass clung to their damp garments. The heat was terrific. They were
spurred on, however, to greater efforts in spite of their plight, when they could
hear the roar of the oncoming fire! At last it reached the gap in the hills, as
Jim had anticipated. It was indeed a fearsome sight and struck terror into the
hearts of the onlookers as it rushed down the incline.
"Stand back! Stand
right back, every one of you!" shouted Jim.
They watched as the fire roared
through the pass, down the valley and so past the camp.
"I never want to
go through another such experience," said Gertrude, "it was dreadful! I am sure
I'll dream about it tonight."
"See how exciting it was," said Jim, laughing,
"I am sure you cannot remember ever having had so much excitement in one afternoon.
Besides, now you'll have something to write home about."
"Jim, that is
just like you," said Louie, "always looking on the bright or funny side of everything
that happens."
As the family and visitors gathered round the fire the following
evening, Olive came towards them from Louie's tent, saying, "Jim, I do think it
was most ingenious of you to have made this bead frame for Louie's school. Have
you seen it Gertrude?"
"No, do let me see it."
"Look, these are
four pieces of plank nailed together to make the frame, wires upon which discs
of wood have been threaded stretched across, the discs numbering 1 to 100."
"What
an excellent home-made bead frame!" exclaimed Gertrude.
"As Louie is teaching
the children, it is up to me to give her as much help as I can. I believe they
love playing with the bead frame and find that learning to count is quite easy."
"Yes,
Jim is most helpful. See this box of letters he has made from elephant grass -
the straight letters are complete, stuck with pins, the round letters they build
with these short pieces, cut for that purpose. It does make teaching so much easier
if they are amused and can be interested. I also have a lovely pair of knitting
needles which Jim made for me last year while we were camping. I knitted a huge
shawl with them for a dear old Dutch lady friend of mine."
"We are nearly
as clever as the 'Swiss Family Robinson'," laughed Jim, "I am sure these good
people are sick of hearing our doings. Louie, didn't I see a letter from Christian
amongst your post?"
"Yes, I nearly forgot to tell you. He does tell me
something so amusing! He says they have had a bad time with locusts and his uncle,
who had been out all day trying to save his garden from them came in hot, tired
and angry and said 'Why didn't that rascally old Pharaoh let the Israelites go?
Confound him!'"
Louie's story caused great mirth amongst the group. When
Gertrude was able to speak she said: "The dear old man! He must have been very
angry!"
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RIVERSIDE
PART
II
The
following year Jim and Louie with their four children trekked to the Bushveld
alone. "I am glad to find our camping spot just as we left it last year," said
Louie. "We shall always come back to this spot, year after year, year after year,
always this same place, won't we?"
"Yes, I think we shall," answered
Jim.
(But they never came again. This was their last visit to the Bushveld.)
They
had been in camp about a week when one day as they sat at their midday meal Jim
said, "You know how often I have written letters to different owners of farm,
and to companies, about hiring farms for those men who have returned from St Helena
or Bermuda; so many of these men have wanted a farm called 'Wolvervlei'. It will
take me half an hour to ride over. I want to go this afternoon and have a look
at the place."
"That will be interesting for you. To whom does it belong?"
"To
the Transvaal Estates and Development Company."
"What time do you think
you will get back?"
"Not much before sunset."
"I had a most interesting
afternoon," said Jim on his return, "I rode over the farm and intend writing a
full report on the property which I will send to the Manager of the Transvaal
Estates and Development Company."
The following year Jim
decided to remain home and not to trek to the Bushveld.
"I am sorry to
disappoint you Louie; you do enjoy the camping, but it is going to take me all
my time to prune our fruit trees, and there is a good deal which needs my attention
on the farm - we cannot spare the time to be away."
"Never mind, we will
have lovely evenings at the fireside, reading."
A few days later, Jim rode
over to Vassall's farm and on his return called to Louie, "Come with me, I am
taking my horse to water. I have had a most interesting afternoon."
"Jim,
this sounds exciting."
"Ah! I thought you would be interested. Vassall,
as you know, is interested in Theosophy. Well, he has a kindred spirit, a very
clever man, staying with him. They are coming over to dinner tomorrow. This man,
Daymon, knows four languages, is a wonderful musician and at one time intended
making music his profession."
"What an interesting person! I am glad you
have invited them to dinner as I would love to hear him play."
"Oh! He'll
play alright if you ask him."
"I most certainly shall. I hope they come
early. I want time for music and talking."
Sunday came - and the interesting
visitor. He talked. He played. He and Vassall stayed for the afternoon, supper
and the evening. How he played! Louie had never heard such music. Grieg, Listz,
Chopin - and how he talked!
"I understand you know four languages," said
Louie, "in which of these languages do you think?"
"I am beyond thought,"
answered Daymon unctuously, "I will lend you some of my books; I have the lives
of Madame Blavatsky and Colonel Alcot. Another author whom I would advise you
to read is Ralph Waldo Trine. He says:
'You
can never tell what a thought may do
In bringing you hate or love,
For
thoughts are things and their airy wings
Are swifter than carrier dove.
They follow the law of the universe,
Each thing must create its kind,
They speed o'er the track to bring you back
Whatever went out from your mind.'
Louie has always been grateful
for this introduction to Trine as his book 'In Tune with the Infinite' has been
helpful in many a trying hour.
Whenever Daymon visited Vassall, it was
understood that they should spend Sunday together with Jim and Louie. They read
the books he lent them. "Because," as Louie said, "Knowledge is Power and though
we have no intention of becoming Theosophists, we are anxious to learn all we
can."
"Jim you must come in to tea, do stop working. I want to tell you
about my letter from Mother. She has made her plans. She and Edith are going to
Bechuanaland to stay with Jack and his family for three months, and Olive is coming
to us. Isn't it lovely? I am looking forward to having her here. She is such a
sweet girl and everybody's favourite. In our family of six, I am sure everyone
loves her best."
"I am very glad she is coming to us. It will be nice for
you to have her and will make up to you for missing your camping this year. We
must try and get up to Witbank and visit some of our friends."
"That would
be nice! Do let us go as soon as possible while this fine weather lasts."
Louie's
pleasurable anticipation of Olive's arrival was fully justified. Fortunately the
weather was perfect, bright winter sunshine, and Louie and Olive were able to
take long, delightful walks and often accompanied Jim in his long tramps to work.
Louie loved the evenings, when she and Olive would sit with their work before
a glowing fire, while Jim read aloud.
A pleasant afternoon was spent visiting
their friends in Witbank. On the return journey, Olive, who was in high spirits
and full of fun said, "Do you remember the first time we visited our Scotch friend,
when Marcus was four years old? She asked him how old he was. He told her and
then she said, 'And what's your name?' Do you remember his answer and how we laughed?"
"No,"
said Jim, "tell us what he said."
"He said, 'I was born Rous, but my mother
gave me the name of Marcus'. Wasn't that funny? How could a child have worked
out such an answer?"
Happy days for Louie with this dear sister, nine years
her junior and still regarded as a child to be taken care of.
Daymon came!
Olive was completely carried away by his teachings and became his most enthusiastic
disciple. (Poor misguided child! Lost to her family for the last twenty years
- no word of her has reached them in all that time, so they know not is she dead
- or does she live?)
Louie studied her Bible as never
before, that she might be able to meet Olive's arguments. But alas! How futile
it all was! Daymon had a wife and two children, and Olive went to his home the
better to study Theosophy. Olive's leaving her hurt Louie very much.
"The
Olive Flemmer you knew is dead," she declared, "If you will not receive my master,
Louie, I will have nothing more to do with any of you."
"But Olive," protested
Louie, "how can you treat Mother as you are doing? Since father's death four years
ago, you and she have shared the same room and you have been everything to her.
Poor little Mother, with her snow white hair and her sad eyes - how she weeps
over you! Oh, Olive! I cannot think how you can find it in your heart to leave
her."
Olive promptly quoted from St Matthew XIX verse 29 - 'And everyone
that have forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife,
or children or land, for My Name's sake, shall receive a hundredfold and shall
inherit everlasting life.'
The re-incarnation of the soul was one of Daymon's
strong points - it was rather fascinating to be told you possessed a beautiful
soul or an old soul. His influence over Olive was complete and she believed every
word he said. He was a big strapping man of about six feet in height with black
hair and beady black eyes, and a powerful personality.
Sad, distressing
times were experienced where all had been so peaceful. There were arguments and
pleadings, heartaches and misery, but Olive and Daymon stuck to their perverse
faith.
Jim forbade Daymon the house and would have laid the same restriction
on Olive, had it not been for Louie and her mother, whose love for the misguided
girl remained unabated.
"Louie," said Jim on day
during December 1909, "you remember the farm 'Wolvervlei' in the Bushveld and
how I rode over to inspect it one afternoon?"
"Yes, I remember quite well."
"I
sent my report to the Manager of the Transvaal Estates and Development Company
and I have a letter here as a result of that report."
"Jim, how exciting!
Do tell me about it."
"It appears the Company employs a Farm Inspector,
and this post has been offered to me by the Directors, as they are pleased with
the fullness and detail of my report. What do you think of that?"
"I think
it will be very interesting but can't quite grasp what it will mean."
"It
means of course, that I shall have to be away from home …….wait a moment….." as
Louie was about to protest, "and let me finish before you say a word. For the
next few months there is very little work doing on the farm. I can leave the Natives
in charge. As you know, farming is not paying. On an undeveloped place like this
there is nothing coming in and so much going out. We have a debt of £80 which
worries me. This is my plan - that I take a house in East London for three months
for you, the children, your mother and Edith and have a holiday at the seaside."
"Jim,
how lovely."
"Your mother is wanting to return to the Colony for Christian's
wedding. Discuss your plans with her and make the necessary arrangements."
"I
do think it will be splendid for us all to be away from 'Riverside' for a time
and this unhappy business about Olive. How excited the children will be when they
hear about this trip to the sea! Shall I ever forget my first experience, our
trip to the Kowie when I was five!"
"Was that the time poor old Jack was
nearly drowned?"
"Yes, how wonderful it was of that little Hottentot maid
to dash into the mighty ocean. I can see Jack's little head, a speck away out
on the waves, while all of us stood and watched. Oh! I think it was wonderful!
Brave little Sannie. I wonder what became of her! Poor little mother, I do feel
so sad for her to have this heartache which Olive's religious mania has given
her, as if her cup of sorrow had not already overflowed. To think that Olive,
of all people, should add to her load of sorrow."
"Don't let us talk about
it. I agree with you that it will be good for all of us to have a change of scene
and atmosphere, and one never knows, perhaps Olive will have come to her senses
by the time you get back."
"Dear me," sighed Louie
as she sank back among the cushions in the railway carriage, "how thankful I am
that we are off. I began to feel as if this day would never come. And to think
we are actually on the train!"
"You have had a very busy time, so much
to see and do. You must have a good rest during this holiday."
"Ah! I shall,
but think of it, in two hours we've got to change. What a beastly nuisance!"
"Don't
worry dear, Claude will be at Germiston to meet us and he will help us into the
other carriage."
"I can't imagine Claude a man; it is five years since
I saw him."
"Is it really as long as that? You will see a change."
"Oh!
Claude," said Louie, springing out of the carriage and throwing her arms round
him, "how nice to see you. I should have known you anywhere though you are a man.
What a blessing to have you help us; we do seem to have so much luggage and so
many children!"
As Claude was in the act of handing the last of the children,
Graham, into the train for East London, off it went, Graham remaining on the platform
with Claude. Poor Louie!
"Mother, whatever shall we do? We can't possible
go without Graham, poor little bot, what are we going to do?"
Fortunately
an official came along. "Madam," he said, "we are only shunting."
Oh! The
relief! After some minutes they arrived at the platform to find Claude with Graham
in his arms.
"He's been a plucky little man; when I told him the train
was coming back for him he was quite happy," said Claude as he handed Graham over
to his mother.
The journey was accomplished without any further excitement.
After their arrival in East London the landlady said, "I want to be the first
to show the children the sea. Come along my dears, come with me," and she led
them out on to the balcony. A few houses - and then the great and mighty ocean
- one wonders what was passing in their little minds as they stood and gazed.
It was a dull grey day, and it was almost impossible to tell where the sea ended
and the sky began, a complete blending of the horizon. After a few moments Marcus
spoke. "It looks like a piece of sky has fallen out." The lady was charmed. "Nothing,
no description could be prettier," she said.
A few weeks later Louie called
to the children, "Come in here. I want you to meet this lady. She used to teach
me when I was a girl."
"Oh, no, Mother!" said Marcus, "she looks much too
young, she could not have taught you when you were a girl."
Another heart
was won!
"Louie," said her old teacher, 'send them away now because I want
you to tell me about them. I am so interested to see you all; describe each one
to me, I mean their tastes."
"Their tastes?" said Louie, "well, well, we
will start with Marcus, who is seven. He will never be a farmer which is of course
a disappointment to his dad and me, but I have great faith in his future because
he is always inventing things, always busy. He made a wonderful drinking arrangement
for my chickens. I thought we were going to make our fortunes, but when Jim saw
it he said, 'Why it is an ordinary drinking fountain." Neither Marcus nor I had
ever heard of such a thing.
"Marjory is five - such a joy - an aunt of
mine named her 'Little Serena' because she is never out of temper; she loves books
but not dolls. I am sorry, as I loved my dolls so dearly!
"The twins are
terrible little pickles - they were born farmers and really their worst troubles
have been in their efforts to farm. They killed numbers of chickens in their anxiety
to make them stay in the coop with the hen, and ducklings because they came off
the water; they have had to be severely whipped."
"Poor little chaps."
"Jim
always comes in at sunset and we devote ourselves to the children."
"What
a nice idea!"
"We got the idea from Longfellow."
"From Longfellow?"
"Yes,
and when Jim is tired he says, 'I wish Longfellow had not written:
Between the dark and the
daylight
As the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's
occupation,
Which is known as the children's hour.'"
"How amusing! But a very nice idea."
"He
talks to them when they are in bed and for a long time one or other of the twins,
remembering their whipping, would say, 'Dad, we won't kill your ducks.'"
"
The first Sunday after we arrived, Edith insisted on taking them to church. She
gave them each threepence and told them they were not to talk. Of course, this
was their first experience of town life - they had never been inside a church.
When the plate came around they refused to part with their money. She whispered
again and again, 'Put it in the plate!' The service was being held up, she got
quite angry and said, 'You must put it in the plate, you are giving it to God!'
Reluctantly they parted with their coins. After they returned I overheard one
saying to the other, 'I don't like the guard in the Church, you give him a threepence
and he doesn't give you anything. I like the guard in the tram, you give him a
penny and he gives you a long ride!'"
"What amusing little boys - you should
write a book about them!"
"Yes, I would love to collect all the funny sayings
of the children and get someone to illustrate the book. It would be fun."
"What
do you do about schooling?"
"When we are at home, I teach them, but I have
been fortunate in finding a little private school almost next door. The twins
go for one hour 9 - 10, and Marcus and Marjory for two hours. The other morning
at 9.15 the twins came home. Written across their slate was 'The Twins say they
are sleepy and hungry and tired! I can do nothing with them, so am sending them
home.'"
"The little monkeys!"
"Their teacher is very nice, a kind
woman with children of her own, and they are all very much entertained by the
twins. In fact, she says no work is done by the rest of the school during the
hour they are there! The other day she told them that if they found B for her
she would give them each a bun. The next day, as soon as they came into the schoolroom
they said, 'We'll find B for you if you'll give us a bun.' She explained that
that could not happen every day. 'Well, we won't find B for you' - and they wouldn't."
"Funny
little boys."
"We are very unhappy about Olive."
"Why, what has
she done?"
"She has become an enthusiastic Theosophist, given up her home
and her people. In a letter from my husband he tells me that she and the man she
calls her master and teacher have disappeared! No one has the least idea what
has become of them."
"I am very sorry. It is sad when religion is the cause
of unhappiness at home."
"Indeed it is. No one knows what my poor little
Mother is suffering! The cruel heartache caused by her having to give up her child.
Olive has always been such a dear girl, a favourite with everybody. She is completely
mesmerised by this man, nothing we say has the least effect. She is determined
to give her life over to the study of his teachings. It has been nice seeing you.
Do come again!"
"Indeed I will, thanks very much; I have enjoyed the afternoon."
The
three months holiday in East London was drawing to a close when one day Louie
rushed into her mother's room in great excitement.
"Mother, I've got such
a piece of news for you! You'll never guess."
"No, I'm no good at guessing."
"Part
of my news is disappointing, but the other part is delightful. Jim has decided
to carry on with his billet as Farm Inspector - he says £40 a month is not to
be sneezed at - I am very sorry he cannot give it up, but agree that 'beggars
can't be choosers'. Now for the exciting news. Jim has arranged to take Claude
as a partner; he is to carry on the farming. It will be so nice having dear old
Claude in the house; so much nicer than having a stranger or being alone. Jim
has arranged with the Company that his headquarters will be in Riverside, his
weekends and any spare time will be spent at home. He does his travelling by train
when he can and for country work he has an American buckboard, four mules and
a native boy."
"I am glad to think my dear Claude will be with us."
"Mother,"
said Marcus, as he came running into the room, "Our shoes have been mended, and
we have brought them home. The shoemaker says when you are passing will you go
in and see him!"
"What on earth can he want to see me for?"
"I don't
know."
"Well, I'm curious. Come with me Marcus, and we'll run along and
see him!"
Arrived at the cobbler's, Louie said, "My little son tells me
you wish to see me."
"Oh! Madam it is good of you to come. As you know, I have
been mending your children's shoes. When I asked one of them where you bought
your shoes, they said, 'Dad makes them.' I can't believe them, that is why I asked
the little boy to tell you I would be glad if you would just step in when you
are passing. These shoes are hand-made and so well done, I told them I thought
you got them from England, but they say, 'No, Dad made them.'"
"They are
telling the truth," said Louie, laughing. "My husband has made all their shoes
for the last five years. He makes the last for each child, and from a piece of
leather for which he pays eight shillings, he makes four pairs of shoes. Each
pair would cost twelve shillings were we to buy them, and they would not be nearly
as strong."
"I am very interested and I congratulate your husband on his
work."
"I'll tell him when I see him how much you admired his handiwork."
"I
do indeed admire these shoes, they look anything but home-made with their neat
little ankle strap, the brown button and nice little sole."
"We polish
them with brown polish," said Louie, pleased that the old man should praise her
husband's work. "I wonder why all home-made shoes are not made to this pattern.
The ordinary veldschoen are so ugly; my husband could not bear to make them for
the children, though the man who taught him how to make shoes only makes veldschoen
for his own children."
"Riverside once more -
home, sweet home - I do think the best part of a holiday is getting home," said
Louie, to the amusement of the family group as they sat on the stoep one lovely
May afternoon. "How strange it is to carry on without Jim; he is such a tower
of strength and so resourceful. Whether the children are ill or anything goes
wrong with my sewing machine, he is able to put things right and give advice.
I wonder how long he will think it necessary to remain with the Company. He is
kept very busy and finds great interest in his experiences. My poor Jim, he does
love his home, and he has had so much of roughing it and knocking about. It is
fortunate, however, that he was able to arrange for Riverside as his headquarters
- though it is rather difficult - never knowing when he is arriving."
"Louie,"
said her aunt, who was visiting her, "you make me think of a verse in the Bible."
"Do
I? How funny. Do tell me the verse."
" 'Ye know not when the Master of
the house cometh, at even or midnight or at the cock crow in the morning.' While
I have been with you during these last weeks, Jim has turned up at nearly all
these different hours."
"Mother, mother," came a shout from the children,
as they came running on to the stoep, "we see dad's spider coming down the road
from Witbank."
"Now, what did I tell you? You never dreamed he would come
this afternoon."
"No, but I am glad he is coming. Please see about the
tea for me, he will be wanting a cup as soon as he gets in. The children and I
will go and meet him."
"Dear me! It is lovely to be home and what a delicious
cup of tea! Louie you will be interested to hear that while in Pretoria I called
on a very old friend whom I have not seen for years and have arranged for her
and her daughters to come and spend some weeks with you."
"How very nice."
"Yes,
you will be missing Flossie when she leaves and they will come as soon as they
hear from you, so make arrangements and don't let your visitors overlap; I like
to think you have someone to keep you cheerful."
"Tell me what you have
been doing. Have you had any exciting experiences?"
"Indeed I have. Last
week I tried to cross the Crocodile River which was in flood; I had a friend with
me and, of course my driver. The four mules plunged into the water and swam strongly,
but we were being washed out of our course, so I made for an island I spotted
about midstream and landed. Heavens! I never thought there were so many spiders,
yes, spiders! - in the whole world. Every inch of that little island was covered
with them. All sorts and sizes - you could not put your foot down without a crunch
- phew! - it was horrible!"
"It must have been! And you do so hate spiders!
What did you do?"
"I said, 'This is no place for me.' And we climbed into
our vehicle and urged the mules back into the full river. However, we reached
the opposite bank so were alright."
"It does seem a great risk, going into
a full river. You remember our dear old friend who was in charge of the donkey
transport while we were at 'The Pyramids' and how he drowned?
"Yes, poor
old chap, but of course, having lately arrived from England he knew very little
of the danger of our South African rivers."
After a brief but happy weekend,
Jim had to return to his work and a week later his old friend, with her three
daughters, arrived from Pretoria to stay with Louie. One evening as Louie was
lighting the candles, after the children had had their supper, they all crowded
round her and four little voices were begging, 'Please may I sleep in Mary's room
tonight?' Mary was twelve and their heroine.
"You can't all sleep in Mary's
room at once," said their mother, "You may take it in turns. Marcus you may go
tonight. Marjory your turn tomorrow night; then you, Graham; and Leslie, it will
be your turn in four night's time."
When the fourth night came Mary took
the lighted candle after the children's early supper and marched off with Leslie.
As she had done on each of the previous nights; she went to the mirror to do her
hair and tidy up for supper. She glanced round and was surprised to see Leslie
sitting in the middle of the bed. He had taken off his shoes but made no further
effort to undress.
"Get undressed, Leslie," said Mary, and continued brushing
her hair.
The second time she looked round he was in the same position;
again she admonished him to proceed with his undressing.
The third time
she turned around she said, "Leslie, what is the matter with you, why don't you
get undressed?"
"Oh! Mary, I've never slept in a girl's room before, and
I don't know what to do, and I forgot to ask Graham!" came a plaintive voice from
a five year old boy.
Months, and then years,
passed and Jim still kept his billet and Louie at Riverside still watched and
waited for his arrival at all hours of the day and night.
Oom Jan sold
his farm. Louie was very sad to lose those dear neighbours. Claude,
who was married, had left Riverside and was manager on the neighbouring farm.
Louie carried on the farming alone. For a whole year she had a very anxious and
trying time with Leslie, who had caught an internal chill. One day Louie and Jim
took him to Witbank to see a doctor, and as the spider drew up in front of the
doctor's house, Leslie said, "Oh! Mother, look at the doctor's enema, isn't it
big?"
"There it is," said Jim, laughing, as Louie looked round in amazement,
"the hose-pipe hanging on the verandah post."
For four months Leslie lay
on his back, never allowed to sit up. He had a little wagon in which he lay, and
the children used to drag it about wherever they were going to play. The sad and
trying part of it all was that he had to be fed like a baby, boiled milk taken
through a feeding cup every hour, no sweets or fruit. Poor little boy! He was
good and patient as an angel. Jim nearly quarrelled with the doctor about the
treatment, and had it not been for Jim's common sense and determination, Leslie
would never have made the recovery he did.
One day in 1912, when
he arrived home for his weekend, Jim called excitedly to Louie, "Look at this,
Messrs Hodder and Stoughton are offering a prize to each of the Colonies for a
novel. You have been playing at writing, now you can get down to hard work and
try for this prize."
For weeks and months Louie wrote hard and, although
she did not win the prize, she loved the occupation.
On another occasion,
Jim said, "I won't be home next weekend. I have worked out my itinerary, which
takes me to Rustenburg, and I cannot be home for a fortnight."
On Thursday
afternoon Louie came into the sitting room where Edith was sitting sewing.
"I
have had such a strange experience," she said, "a queer feeling came over me;
I looked at my watch at the time and found it was exactly 2.20, and with that
feeling was borne on me that Jim is coming home on Saturday night."
"But
how can you possibly expect him when he said so emphatically he would not be home
until the following week?"
"I don't know; something must have happened.
Anyhow I am going to send the spider to meet him on Saturday evening."
When
Claude and his wife heard what Louie intended doing they were much amused and
walked over to 'Riverside' after supper to see the empty vehicle arrive from the
station! As the sound of the wheels reached the ears of the occupants of the sitting
room, they all rushed out, Edith saying, "Is he there - isn't he there?"
"Hullo!"
shouted Jim as he sprang up the steps.
"But Jim," said Claude, "you said
you could not be home before next week!"
"I know, but it turned out that
the man who should have met me didn't arrive so it was impossible to carry on.
You got my wire of course?" turning to Louie.
"No."
"But how did
you some to send the trap to meet me?"
"I just guessed you would be home
tonight."
"Here is the wire," said Edith, opening the postbag and sorting
the letters, "May I open it?"
"Yes, do," said Louie.
"Sent off from
Rustenburg at 2.20 on ….let me see, what day was the 15th?….Yes, Thursday." She
looked at Louie, " 'Meet me Saturday evening, 7 p.m.'"
"Why do you people
all seem so mysterious?" asked Jim irritably.
"Because," said Edith, "Louie
came to me on Thursday and said she had a queer feeling, so looked at her watch.
It was 2.20 and then she knew you were coming."
"That is rather a funny
coincidence. I was not a bit surprised to see the trap, thinking of course, you
had received the wire."
Louie had several other interesting experiences
of telepathy.
The winter of 1913 was
a cruel one in the Transvaal; bitterly cold days and often sleet and snow. Louie,
her mother and the children were alone at Riverside. Fortunately coal was plentiful
as they could get as much discarded coal as they wanted, free, from Witbank. The
fires were never allowed to go out in Louie's bedroom, the drawing room and the
dining room.
"Jim," said Louie, during one of the weekends he was at home,
"I have a feeling that Olive and Daymon are coming here. Please don't get so angry
- I don't want them any more than you do; but I do want to discuss it - what am
I to do?"
"I WILL NOT have them in my house," declared Jim emphatically.
"Yes,
but if they come?"
"If they come, then they must go back to where they
came from!"
"But how can they do that?"
"Whatever brings them here
can take them away," said Jim in furious tones as he strode up and down the drawing
room, "I will not have them in my house."
"I don't want them here either,
but you, of all people, would not turn away a dog in this weather……"
"I
have said that what brings them here must take them away!"
For the next
few weeks Louie's thoughts were very sad and troubled. Why must life be so difficult?
"Come
along, Mother," she said one afternoon, "it is not so cold now; the wind has dropped.
Let us go out for a walk. We will walk up the Witbank road; if Jim should be coming
from that direction, we won't miss him."
They walked to where they could
see the road disappearing over the rise in the distance. Suddenly Louie stopped
and caught her breath. "Mother!" she said, "I see two people WALKING. I
believe they are Olive and Daymon! Let us stand here and watch." After several
anxious moments, she said, "Oh! What a relief! I can see them quite plainly now;
they are only two natives and are not even coming in this direction."
"I
wonder where that poor child is," sighed Mrs Flemmer, "and whether she is happy
or not!"
"Poor old Mother, it is very hard for you. But you must try not
to be too sad, or worry; she chose the life and was old enough to know her own
mind."
"That is so. But if only she had not met that man!"
A week
later on Saturday morning, as Louie sat at her desk preparing her mail, the children
came dashing in, greatly excited and saying, "here comes a man and a woman, WALKING.
He has long hair."
Louie looked up to see Olive and Daymon standing in
the front door. What a situation! Turning to Marcus she said, "Go and tell Grannie
Aunt Olive is here."
As they gathered round the breakfast table, Louie
nerved herself to say, "Neither Jim nor I wish to have you in our house, so you
cannot stay here."
A shadow of anger passed across Daymon's face. "When
we reached Cape Town," he said, "I sold my watch and chain and with that money
I bought our tickets to Witbank. We have had nothing since yesterday morning,
not even a cup of coffee. We reached Witbank about midnight and sat in the waiting
room until it was light enough for us to walk down." Taking a copper from his
pocket, he flung it on to the table, saying, "That is all we have in the world."
Olive
looked defiantly at her sister, daring her to turn out these two chosen of God.
In the stillness, Louie felt that everyone must hear the quick thumping of her
heart.
The grating of Daymon's chair, as he flung himself out of it and strode
up and down the room, jarred on the overstrained nerves of the women. Louie looked
across at that dear little Mother, her white face, pain in her sad blue eyes -
but what could she do? Every time the dogs barked or the children came dashing
in, her heart seemed to stop beating. Wasn't it Saturday - the day of all days
that she might expect Jim? If he were to walk in now! Oh! Cruel fate to place
her in so difficult a situation!
"We shall have to think of some plan,"
said Louie, trying to be brave and firm, "it must be clearly understood that
YOU CANNOT STAY IN THIS HOUSE."
"We have found the Eternal City! I
have chained Satan for a thousand years!" shouted Daymon in a frenzy of fanatical
fervour. "We come with all the knowledge we have gained for your home, for you
to be the first to receive the benefits we are able to confer. If Jim will not
hear me speak, it is because he is a coward. I MUST, I SHALL be heard.
I insist on a hearing, even a condemned criminal is allowed to speak. The message
that I bring is that there must be no more souls born into the world! Sex, the
greatest sin of condemnation, must be rooted out of our lives. If you do not listen
to my words," turning fiercely to Louie, "you will be re-incarnated again and
again, with the curse of wedlock on you."
"If the man is Jim Rous," said
Louie stoutly, "I shall be perfectly happy."
At this Daymon grew furious
and continued to launch his theories until Louie was surprised to find it was
time to attend to the midday meal.
The cold was intense, a fine rain set
in and so the miserable afternoon drew to a close. As they sat round the fire,
Daymon said, "I have some furniture and a tent with Vassall. If you will allow
us to camp for a fortnight - that is all I ask - a fortnight! - there will be
such a cataclysm of nature at the end of that time as will prove my words to be
true."
There was nothing for it but to let things stand.
As soon
as Louie could escape to her room, she threw herself on her bed and sobbed her
heart out. Then taking pen and ink, she sat beside her fire and wrote pages and
pages to Jim. She wrote far into the night, telling him all that had happened
and how she had considered allowing Olive and Daymon to camp on the farm for a
fortnight.
Sunday dawned, cold, wet and miserable. Louie felt it was still
impossible to make the move. And so the long hours of that miserable Sunday passed.
During the afternoon she spoke to Olive, trying to persuade her that the man was
mad.
"But Louie," said Olive, "can't you see the likeness to Christ? This
is the Second Christ; he is the re-incarnated Christ!"
"Oh! Olive you poor
child; you are completely mesmerised. Christ would not have a wife and children,
such as this man had!"
"That is the cloud spoken of in the Bible. Oh! Louie,
don't let such a thing mislead you."
All the arguments in the world were
useless. Louie was up betimes on Monday, determined that the move should be made
as early as possible. She sent a man on horseback to Witbank with her letter to
Jim, and ordered the other men to inspan the wagon and go over with Daymon to
Vassall's farm.
During the morning the man returned with the post and a
wire. Louie had promised to spend some time with her niece in Ventersdorp and
here was a wire saying that he baby had been born and would she come at once.
It was a joy to get away - to be out of the house and far away from all connection
with this difficult situation!
"Olive," called Louie, "I have a wire telling
me of the arrival of Lexie's little girl. I must go to Ventersdorp at once. I
cannot leave Mother here alone, so write a note to Daymon and tell him to return
here with all the goods, and that I am leaving."
Louie wired to Jim and
he met her at Germiston. They travelled together to Johannesburg, where Louie
had to spend the night before proceeding to Ventersdorp. They talked long and
earnestly about the very difficult situation in which they found themselves. At
last Louie said: "Jim, I must go to Lexie. The only thing to do is for you to
go and turn them out; but what to do about Mother, she cannot be left alone!"
"I've
got it," said Jim, "there is a young fellow, Johns, who is anxious to learn farming.
I have been corresponding with him as I decided that you must have someone to
help you with the farming. I'll send him a wire in the morning, telling him to
come on Friday. I'll take him back with me to Riverside and leave him to take
care of your mother and the farm, and I'll turn them out."
As Louie sat
in the train on her way to Ventersdorp, she was very grateful to the little baby
who had been the means of taking her away from her troubles.
Jim arrived
at Riverside with Johns on Saturday evening and after supper said, "Come along,
Johns, I feel sure you will not mind being put to bed so early. I expect you are
tired. I must have all the time possible for this talk I am in for. Goodnight.
Oh! By the way, nothing this man can say will later my opinion or change my purpose,
so we must get busy directly after breakfast, although it will be Sunday, and
pitch their tent."
Mrs Flemmer, Jim, Olive and Daymon gathered round the fire
in the drawing room and the argument began.
"Now," said Jim, "let's have
it. I am ready to listen to you."
"That is all I want - a hearing," said
Daymon, with all the confidence in the world, fully believing that he would convert
Jim and enlist his sympathy. "Give me a fortnight and there will be such a cataclysm
of nature, and you and your family will be the first to share my discoveries.
I have found the Eternal City! I have chained Satan for a thousand years! I am
the re-incarnated Christ!"
Jim looked at Daymon's flashing black eyes,
his long black, wavy hair and beard, and he thought nothing could be further from
his idea of Christ.
"Olive is my heavenly bride, she is the re-incarnation
of Mary of Bethany. Ours is a spiritual union."
"I think you are both mad,"
interrupted Jim, "I am willing not only to give you a fortnight, I am going to
give you a month. I will not go back on my wife - she said you might camp in the
trees above the fountain. Tomorrow we will pitch your tent and you may remain
for one month, after that you get off my farm. I do not believe a word of anything
you have said, and how you can carry on as you are doing, breaking the heart of
this dear grey-haired lady……"
"What are tears or grey hair to ME; I cannot
stop a soul in its flight," shouted Daymon, with all the fervour of the mad.
The
next morning the wagon was at the door. As Jim met his little mother-in-law in
the hall, he stopped her and said, "I feel like a murderer to see you so sad.
Do not weep like this, you will make yourself ill. Sorry as I am for you, there
was no other course open to me. I must turn them out."
"Jim, I know that
you are doing what you consider right. Oh! My poor child, my poor child."
"Never
mind. Give them all the food and provisions you can spare."
The camp was
pitched. Jim returned to his work. Louie's ten days in Ventersdorp came to an
end and she returned to Riverside. She and her mother always had a warm welcome
for Olive whenever she arrived from the camp. Louie never ceased trying to influence
her and so break the spell which Daymon had cast over her. The end of the month
came.
"Louie," said Jim, as they sat and talked one Sunday evening, "I
must leave early tomorrow. I have given my instructions to Johns; he must go up
to the camp with the wagon, load up everything, and I have said he may take them
anywhere within a radius of ten miles."
"I wonder where they will go,"
said Louie.
"I don't know and I don't care."
"Jim, please don't
be angry."
"I am angry; the very thought of that man makes me furious,
the rot he talks. Here his fortnight has gone, and now a month, and nothing has
happened. He is mad - quite mad - I am sorry for Olive and very sorry for your
mother."
"It is useless, Mrs Rous, I cannot get them to budge," said poor
Johns in great distress as he returned from the camp on Monday morning. "I have
told them that my instructions are to take them away, and they can no longer remain
where they are, as the month Mr Rous granted them has passed, but they absolutely
refuse to move."
"Oh! Well, this will mean more trouble, but of course
neither you nor I can do anything. Don't worry, Mr Rous said he would be home
next weekend. He will do what is necessary."
Although Louie saw Olive during
the week, no mention was made of their term having expired.
On Jim's arrival
the following Saturday afternoon, he said, "I left orders for that camp to be
shifted, and I see they are still there!"
"Yes, Jim, your orders were carried
out. Johns is an excellent young man and did his best to make them move, but they
refused."
"We'll see about it tomorrow."
Again Sunday morning, and
the wagon inspanned. "Tell the boys," said Jim to Johns, "to go up to the camp.
You and I will follow in the gig after breakfast."
As the gig drove up
to the camp Jim was furious to see one of his boys carrying water for Daymon,
and the other chopping wood. "Stop that!" he roared in a fury, "Put down that
bucket," and flinging the reins to Johns he leaped out of the gig and began tearing
up the tent pegs. As the tent trembled and collapsed, Daymon strode up to Jim,
"You'll go to hell," he hissed in a passion.
"I don't care," said Jim,
"as long as YOU are not there." The goods were loaded in the wagon. "Now,"
said Jim, "where do you want to go?"
"You can put us over your fence."
"I'll
do nothing of the sort. This ground is in my care."
"We will go to that
group of trees."
"I have nothing to say about that; the owner of the ground
lives in Witbank. Johns, take the wagon to those trees, pitch the tent and when
you have done what you can to settle them, come back."
During the afternoon
Olive saw the owner of the farm driving down from Witbank. She went into the middle
of the road to stop him and ask permission to camp on his farm. He never stopped
his horses and had she not stepped aside he would have driven over her. She returned
to the camp and told Daymon of her experience. He realised that trouble lay ahead.
"We
will walk over to Vassall's farm," he said.
Long before this Vassall had
disassociated himself from Daymon, and as he saw them coming, he mounted his horse
and rode up to Witbank. Olive and Daymon went into Vassall's house and sat, with
the lamp burning, waiting for what would happen next. About midnight the police
arrived with a warrant for Daymon's arrest.
Olive begged them to take her
too, but they refused. She sat alone in that empty house until the morning dawned
when she walked over to Riverside. Louie and her mother were greatly distressed
to see the poor child but she wanted none of their sympathy.
"Please let
me have a conveyance to take me to Witbank," she pleaded.
"We insist that
you have something to eat first. Have some breakfast while I order the boy to
bring the trap round."
Louie and her mother watched that dear, sweet girl
as she settled herself in the trap beside Jim's faithful native driver. Mrs Flemmer
gazed lovingly at her youngest daughter. Olive made a lovely picture. In spite
of the long night's vigil, her complexion could only be described as 'milk and
roses'. Her large blue eyes were kind and trustful, fringed with long black lashes,
the eyebrows dark and perfectly arched. Her hair was light brown, she wore it
parted in the middle, lying smoothly on either side of her pure white brow, and
braided in two long plaits which circled her hair like a crown. Her teeth were
the joy of her dentists who always commented on them, and to whom she only went
for cleaning and polishing; just a row of perfect pearls flashed between those
rosy lips. When she was being measured by a tailor for a riding habit, he said,
"Had she been one inch taller, hers would have been an ideal figure."
Her
beautiful hands, the delicate slender fingers with their long almond shaped nails,
each with its perfect half moon and pink palms, might have been considered the
envy of any society queen. She was always considered the 'flower of the flock'.
As
she had been at Rocklands, the Girls High School for six years she had had every
advantage! The gods had indeed been kind to her!!
She wrote to her mother
during the following week, telling her that she had successfully rescued Daymon
from the long arm of the Law, and that they had left Witbank.
During the
next six months Mr Flemmer received about half a dozen letters from Olive and
then came a letter in which she said - 'Do not write until you have our new address
……'
The new address never came, and although Mrs Flemmer lived for another
ten years, no word of, or from, Olive ever reached her.
HOME | BACK TO CONTENTS | WEBMASTER | FAMILY CREST | THE LITTLE DANE | REUNION
RIVERSIDE
PART
III
"A
perfect night! It is almost as light as day!" exclaimed Jim as he sank into a
comfortable chair in the midst of his family on the stoep at Riverside.
"The
day is done, the darkness falls from the wings of Night, as a feather is wafted
downwards from an eagle in his flight….."
"Do go on."
"You have
heard it so often."
"That's why I love it. Sit very quietly children, and
listen."
"The
day is done, and the darkness falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather
is wafted downwards from an Eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
gleam through the rain and mist,
A feeling of sadness comes o'er me, that my
soul cannot resist;
A feeling of sadness and longing, that is not akin to pain,
And
resembles sorrow only as mist resembles rain.
Come, read to me some poem, some
simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling, and banish
the thoughts of the day.
Not from the grand old masters, not from the bards
sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo through the corridors of time.
For,
like the strains of martial music, their mighty thoughts suggest,
Life's endless
toil and endeavour; and tonight I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
whose song gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer, or
tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through the long days of labour, and nights
devoid of ease,
Still hear in his soul the music of wonderful melodies.
Such
songs have power to quiet the restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
that follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume the poem of
thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet the beauty of thy voice.
And
the night shall be filled with music, and the cares that infest the day,
Shall
fold their tents like Arabs, and as silently steal away."
For several minutes after Jim's voice had
died away, not a sound broke the stillness.
"I am afraid," said Louie,
"you are very weary of this life of travel and change."
"That is so. But
'it's a long lane that has no turning' and I believe I see the turn! You'll never
guess what I did last week!"
"It sounds as if it is something very exciting!
Please tell me, I can't guess."
"I sent in my resignation!"
"JIM!"
Jim
was thoroughly enjoying the situation; he loved giving Louie these surprises.
"It
seems to good to be true," said Louie, "to have you always at home instead of
those dreadful Monday mornings when you have to go."
"For four years we
have been carrying on, you alone, teaching the children, managing the farm and
I running about the country. This is where it stops. You used to say that you
could never be as brave as my mother; you thought you could never stay on a farm
alone - yet, you have done it. You have been brave."
These words of praise
filled Louie's heart with joy.
"I have not been afraid because I told Isaac
that a woman with a revolver was one of the most dangerous things on earth; that
if anyone were to knock on the front door, I would shoot without finding out who
it was, or what they wanted. We have often watched the men on moonlight nights
passing as far form the house as they possibly could, more frightened of me than
I am of them!"
"I want to tell you of an interesting experience I had on
this trip to Bechuanaland," said Jim. "Let the children stay, never mind about
bed, they will be interested and I know they are longing to celebrate my resignation!
"The
part through which I travelled lies on the edge of the Kalahari Desert. Salt and
water are the two things people crave for. If you give a child a handful of salt,
he is as pleased as a European child would be with a handful of sweets. The desert
seems endless, just miles and miles of sand. I had to abandon my mules and substitute
them for a pair of trotting oxen. We were getting very anxious about water as
we travelled. My companion, a Mr James, said, 'We will soon reach a place where
we will get water.' 'Impossible,' I said, 'in all this stretch of sand.' 'Wait
and see,' he replied.
"As we reached a spot where there were a few scattered,
miserable hovels, we stopped. 'Where is your water?' I asked. 'Wait a minute.'
He called to an awful looking old hag and told her he wanted water.
"Taking
a bucket, she walked off and we followed. Presently she squatted down in the sand.
She drew two quills from her pocket, inserted the long one in the sand, and the
short one in the corner of her mouth. The bucket was placed just below the short
tube. She sucked vigorously at the long tube for several minutes, till I was surprised
to see a slimy trickle of water drip from the shorter tube into the bucket. My
companion laughed to see my look of surprise. 'She'll fill a bucket for half-a-crown,'
he said. 'But how on earth does she do it?' I asked. 'I don't know,' he replied,
'I have offered her a big reward if she will tell me what she does. She is willing
to show me, and I have taken the tubes from her mouth, horrible as it may seem,
while she was in the very act of drawing the water - but not a drop could I draw.'
"It
is indeed one of the strangest sights I have ever seen. Not a drop of moisture
anywhere, nothing but desert sand, and here she was, filling the bucket."
"Oh!
Dad, I would not like to drink that water," said Marcus.
"No, I am sure
you would not, my son. We did not DRINK it. We boiled it and made tea, which did
not seem so bad, the animals drank it and very glad they were to have it, poor
brutes!"
"Please tell us something more," begged Marjory.
"Right-o!"
said Jim, "I'll tell you about James, who was most entertaining; he told me several
amusing stories. He has lived in those desert parts all his life, is a wonderful
shot and has no respect for law and order. He shoots a buck when he wants it,
whether in or out of season, and I think he prefers Royal game to any other. He
has a faithful old Hottentot, called Gert, who has been with him for many years.
One day James came home with forbidden game; he and his wife had taken it to the
dairy to cut up, when a policeman arrived at the homestead. 'Where are the baas
and the missis?' he asked Gert. 'The baas is away and the missis is the dairy,'
replied the old Hottentot. 'I'll just go down and see her.' 'Oh! No, no baas,
you mustn't; the missis is having here bath in the dairy! Wait here and I'll send
a message to her.' The old chap slipped down to the dairy. 'The policeman is here,'
he whispered at the door,' I told him the missis is having a bath in the dairy
and the baas is away from home. Baas must hide himself and the meat!'
"He
returned to the house and presently the woman came out, her hair all wet and streaming
down her back. The policeman was this completely taken in."
"Did he tell
you anything else?" asked the enthusiastic Marcus.
"I am sure Dad is tired,"
said Louie.
"Who could be tired on such a night?" replied Jim. "How lovely
it is sitting here, and seeing all this growth, how different from what it was
ten years ago! To plant trees and change the face of the earth is one of life's
joys and a man who has the opportunity of doing so, may feel he has not lived
in vain. You children want another story about James?"
"Yes, please, we
would love it," came in a chorus of voices.
"Well! The police in Vryburg
got word that James had arrived home with a quantity of forbidden game. They were
determined to catch him so laid their plans carefully. Two of them left Vryburg
after dark as secretly as possible. They only travelled during the night, lying
in hiding during the day, and resting their horses, hoping that by doing so no
word of their journey would reach James.
"The last night came, and they
arrived within a short distance of James' house. They found a good hiding place
and lay down, meaning to arrest him at the crack of dawn. They were awakened during
the early morning hours by old Gert saying, 'Here, baas, the missis has sent you
a jug of coffee.'"
"Oh! What a sell for the poor policeman after all their
trouble," said Leslie.
"Yes, it was indeed a sell, because if James knew
they were there, he had plenty of time to dispose of the meat."
"Dad, how
did he know?" asked Graham.
"Well, he didn't give his secrets away, old
man. Now I think you have had enough stories, so pop off to bed, and tomorrow
night I'll tell you another interesting experience I had on the edge of the desert."
The
children went off to bed, delighted at the thought of another story the following
evening.
Sunday evening, and another beautiful night! Blue starry heaven,
not a breath of wind to mar the perfect stillness.
"I thought you would
have forgotten my promise," said Jim.
"Oh! No, Dad, we've been looking
forward to this evening."
"More than if you had been going to a concert,
I suppose. That's what Mother used to say when we were reading an exciting book.
Well, it is good to have something to look forward to, and a great thing to be
enthusiastic. Always keep your enthusiasm - never grow stale. Now for the story:
"I
came to a place called Matoto - right on the edge of the Kalahari Desert - that
part of the world is most truly the land of Sun, Sand and Silence, and there I
saw what you would least expect to find - an enormous and elaborate tombstone,
a tall granite column, very much decorated and standing on a broad base. The inscription
was carved on the base in black letters cut deep into the stone -and this is what
I read:
Sacred
to the Memory of the Revd Pierre Lamont, a man
of God who died on April 8th
1872 by the mad act of a
renegade Englishman - R.I.P.
"There were a couple of big
kameel trees growing close at hand, and a little way off stood the ruins of a
European dwelling; beyond that a Kaffir settlement consisting of several hundred
huts. I was so curious about the tombstone with its queer inscription that I asked
questions and was told a story of the Missionary and the renegade Englishman.
We will call the Englishman John Bull; he must have been a John Bull to have done
what he did.
"Well, it appears that in 1872, before Mother or I were born,
John Bull fitted out a trading caravan in Beaufort West, which in those days was
the rail head north of Cape Town, and started off on his adventurous trek. After
travelling for about four hundred miles, which must have taken him many months,
he arrived at Matoto. He was carrying all sorts of goods which he thought would
attract the black man. As gunpowder was in great request, he carried a quantity,
in fact, three barrels full; gunpowder being almost worth its weight in gold.
"When
he arrived at Matoto, he had two disappointments, the first was that the Missionary
was away from home - (you can imagine how much he would have enjoyed the company
and conversation of a white man) - and the second was that there WAS a store at
Matoto, run by the Missionary and his assistant.
"After resting his animals
for a couple of days and doing a little trade with the natives, John Bull set
off on his journey into the unknown. Two days later he arrived a place called
Klitsini - I wonder which of you can pronounce that Kaffir word!"
"They
all tried.
"The first syllable has more of a click - that's better - well,
to proceed.
"What was the astonishment of John Bull to see the Missionary,
mounted on a huge, horned pack-ox, a sjambok in his hand, and followed by a cavalcade
of about twenty men who, mounted on oxen and carrying assegais and kerries, all
made straight for his wagon.
"The Missionary, a huge man, was flourishing
his sjambok and saying, 'You beastly Englishman, you insulted my wife! For this
you will be thrashed!' As soon as John Bull could make himself heard he said,
'You must be mad to accuse me of insulting your wife; the only time I spoke to
the woman was when I went to your store, to tell her of my departure, and your
assistant was present during that interview.' 'That is a lie,' shouted the infuriated
Missionary, 'A lie, and I will not be satisfied until I have thrashed you.'
"Both
men became very angry and a hot argument followed. At last John Bull said, 'I
am willing to be tried in a Court of Justice. As the nearest English Court is
at Beaufort West, four hundred miles away, I will submit to being tried by a Native
Court, but I absolutely refuse to submit to a thrashing from you.' 'Very well,'
replied Lamont, 'I will go on ahead and arrange for the native court. Ten of my
men are being left in charge of you. They will be your escort."
"On his
arrival at Matoto, John Bull found the Court assembled, consisting of ten petty
chiefs. The news that a white man was being tried by a Native Court had spread
far and wide, with the result that hundreds of stalwart male natives were present
to witness so unusual a sight, and to be in the 'fun' should anything exciting
take place.
"The chairman was the head chief. He was an old man and huge, very
slow and deliberate. The Missionary and his wife made their statements and their
servants were called as witnesses. John Bull made his statement and his servant
was called as his witness. Then proceedings started. After the third day….."
"Dad,
did they take THREE DAYS?" asked Marcus. The children were following the
story with breathless interest.
"Yes, my son, three days!"
"But,
whatever could they find to talk about for three days?"
"Ah! That's just
it - they have legal minds and could argue back and forth on the smallest point.
As the third day was drawing to a close, the chairman stood up. With great dignity
and pomp he delivered his verdict. He said, 'This Council of Chiefs of Matoto
has patiently listened to the charge against the Travelling-Stranger by the White-God-Man,
and has given every consideration to the statements made by the various witnesses.
This Council has come to the conclusion that the charge is false. We rule that
the Stranger go free and that he shall receive compensation from the White-God-Man
to the extent of two heifers, for the trouble and delay he has suffered in consequence
of this false charge which has been brought against him I HAVE SPOKEN.'"
"Dad,
I am so glad they are not going to punish poor old John Bull. What a nice Kaffir
chief!"
"Wait a moment, little Marjory, the story is not finished yet.
When the Missionary heard the finding of the Court, he flew into a violent passion,
shouting and throwing his arms about. 'I will not accept the decision of the Court,'
he shouted, 'I am going to tie the Englishman to the wheel of his wagon and thrash
him with my sjambok, and when I have done that, I give permission to you all to
rob him. You may help yourselves to the goods from his wagon.'
"The old
Chief held up his hand for silence and spoke: 'You White-God-Man you came amongst
us two years ago. We allowed you to stay and teach us a new teaching. You built
the meeting house, the house where you live, and also a house where you exchange
white man's goods for goats and cattle. Every seventh day you have a meeting with
our people, and you have gained much influence over their minds. For two years
you have been teaching a teaching of forgiveness and goodwill. When there has
been a difference amongst us, YOU have urged us to make peace and be friends,
saying: 'Let not the sun go down on your wrath.' Then the old man turned to the
setting sun, and throwing out his hand towards the West, he said: 'That is the
third sun about to go down on YOUR wrath! We have listened to your story
against this stranger and we find it false, so we have discharged him; yet your
wrath continues - therefore, it would seem that your teachings are of the lips
and not of the heart. We will have nothing more to do with this business, and
we will now return to our homes!'
"The Council of ten withdrew, many of
their followers accompanying them. The Missionary, upon whom the old Chief's wise
words had had no effect, was still raging. Feeling that he had the support of
a great number of his followers, he was determined to flog John Bull.
"After
the Court had retired, John Bull went to his wagon and sat quietly on one of his
barrels of gunpowder. The Missionary, who had worked himself into a frenzy of
rage, and whose feelings were exciting his followers, with a yell of 'Seize him!
Seize him!' sprang on to the wagon, followed by his men who swarmed up from every
side. Just as they were about to lay hands on John Bull - what do you think he
did?"
"Oh! Dad, we don't know! It is very exciting!" exclaimed the twins
in one breath.
"Brave John Bull! He was not going to be thrashed by that
despicable man, Missionary or no Missionary. He struck a match right into the
gunpowder! What a terrific explosion! I feel as if bits of them must still be
travelling!"
"Jim, how horrid!" exclaimed Louie.
"When the smoke
and dust cleared, all that could be found of the wagon, the team of donkeys, the
goods, John Bull, the Missionary and his followers, were bits of arms and legs
and scraps of wagon."
"Poor old John Bull. I do feel sorry for him! Is
that the end of the story, Dad?"
"Not quite. The tombstone, which does
not tell a true tale, was erected to mark the spot, but the story will never be
forgotten in these parts, and the tale is handed down from father to son. The
Natives say the place is haunted; that on a moonlight night a wagon can be seen
with a barrel of gunpowder on it and a man about to strike a match. They say that
even now, after all these years, if a trader is being worried by natives refusing
to keep off his wagon, he has only to pretend that he is going to strike a match,
and they scatter to the four winds of heaven!"
"Thanks very much, Dad,
it was a most interesting story. I wonder if the Missionary's wife was near enough
to be blown up too! I suppose she was standing watching."
"I wonder! But history
does not say. What I say is 'bedtime for all good little children'"
The silence,
after the sound of the children's merry voices had died away, was broken by Jim's
soft restful voice -
"Sunset
and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning
of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep
Too
full for sound and foam
When that which drew from out of the boundless deep,
Turns
again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And
may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark.
For tho' from out
our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my
Pilot face to face,
When I have crost the bar."
Louie stood beside Jim
in their bedroom as he washed his hands. He had arrived a few minutes earlier,
had seen that the mules were fed and watered, and now was having a clean up.
"My
resignation has been accepted."
"Jim I am glad. It will be such a comfort
to have you always at home."
"The Manager has got the sack," said Jim,
still busy with the soap.
"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed Louie excitedly.
"Why on earth has he been sacked? Who will be Manager now?"
"Yours truly,"
answered Jim in a calm voice.
"Are you teasing me, or do you really mean
it, Jim?"
"I mean it."
"Do you mean to tell me you have been appointed
Manager of the Transvaal Estates and Development Company, and you give me the
news calmly while you are washing your hands!!"
Jim laughed. He loved springing
surprises on Louie and enjoyed seeing her excitement.
"What does it mean?"
she asked breathlessly.
"It means we will all go and live in Johannesburg."
"How
splendid for the children's education, but I shall be very sorry to leave our
nice comfortable home and our beautiful trees."
"Yes, it will be sad to
give up this place, but I could not refuse such an offer."
"What will you
do with Riverside?"
"I will either sell it or let it. In the meantime,
I will leave the place in charge of a man I know. When I get back to Johannesburg
I am going house hunting and next time I come, you must be prepared to return
to Johannesburg with me, and help me decide on the house."
"This is really
thrilling. I'm just longing to go and burst this bombshell on Mother and the children."
"Alright.
Run away and have your fun. We'll discuss the rest of the business after supper."
"Of
course, we'll have to pack everything," asked Louie as they sat on the stoep gazing
into the starlight.
"Yes, everything. We will begin tomorrow. I'll pack
all the pictures and any other breakables - anything not in use - you will have
a lot to do, and I would like you to be in Johannesburg settled, when I take over
on December 1st."
"Oh! dear," said Louie, "What a wonderful adventure life
is! How true it is that we know not what the day will bring forth. Little I dreamed
when I woke this morning that before I slept again my head would be full of thoughts
of Johannesburg and leaving Riverside. It seemed as if we would live here for
ever and ever and ever!"
"Well," said Jim, "my experience has been that
life is full of changes. I never feel that what I am doing is going to keep on;
it seems as if it is only a step to something else."
"I am glad," said
Louie, "that we shall have the whole of the Christmas vacation to fix up about
the children's schools. To think of it - no more teaching!"
"I thought
you loved teaching!"
"I do. But it is difficult to teach one's own children
and they are going beyond me. Marcus is eleven and should be doing much more than
I can teach him."
Busy weeks followed for Louie and her mother packing
all the household goods - they were living in great discomfort.
"Mother,"
said Marcus, "isn't it funny? We never look at the pictures and yet, now they
are gone we miss them. I try not to look at the bare walls; they worry me so,
but I can't help it. I shall be glad when we are in our new house in Johannesburg."
"It
won't be long now before we are in our new home; you will like it. We have never
lived in a double storey house before so that will be fun for you children. It
is a very nice house. I am sure we shall be happy and you will enjoy going to
school with lots of other boys. I am glad you won't have to go to boarding school,
which would have been necessary had we remained here."
During that last
week at Riverside, whenever Louie could spare the time, she wandered from one
favourite spot to another, taking farewell of what she had grown to love very
dearly. She strolled through the orchard, now in full bearing, remembering the
time, eight years ago, when the planting of the trees meant so much to her and
to Jim. In the corner of one of the wattle plantations, which grew quite near
the homestead was a little arbour. Here Louie found a seat where she was completely
hidden as she sat and dreamed of the past and the future. She felt she had come
to a parting of the ways; that this move to Johannesburg was a turning point in
her life. She who had always lived in the country, to be transplanted to a city
- and Johannesburg, of which people said 'it was London this side of the water'.
Sometimes her thoughts were sad as she sat and dreamed during that long summer
afternoon. "Life is truly a great adventure," she thought, "I like to think of
Life as a stringed instrument - and every string must be in tune -
'Love took up the Harp of
Life,
And smote on all the cords with might,
Smote the cord of self, which
trembling
Passed in music out of sight.'
"I do think that little verse is full of beautiful thought 'smote the cord of self!' If only one could always remember these beautiful thoughts - how many happy afternoons we have spent in this little arbour! What lovely tea parties the dear children have had - Poor Darlings, how little they realise that the tea parties were part of their training, and that I was strict or lenient with a plan, that each might have a turn at being host! Pouring the tea, and oh! the thrill that little parcel was to the little host! It was a brainwave buying that big Christmas stocking! What I want most for our children is Happiness, happiness first and then success, for what would be the good of all the success in the world if one were not happy! Why don't we all try to make each other happier and happier? How few happy faces one sees - it makes me sad to think there are so few happy people in the world. Oh! I do want my children to be happy. I remember an old friend of mine saying to me once 'While your children are small your troubles are small'. Surely our children will never cause us TROUBLE! I could not bear it; I want to think of them as a blessing and a joy, no matter how big they are! How I wish they could always be my babies! Proud as I am to see them growing up, I can't bear to think of losing them. I am so afraid that living in Johannesburg will break up my nest - and my little birds will fly away……" and Louie crooned softly to herself the little poem which Jim loved and often said to the children:
"What does little birdie say,
In her nest
at peep of day?
Let me fly, says little birdie,
Mother let me fly away."
"Yes, my babies, my little
birds, you will certainly fly away, and some day you will be where I am, thinking
of your little birds and I shall be where mother is, old and grey, a grandmother
perhaps, and so life passes and 'the old order changeth giving place to the new'.
I wonder whether I shall ever see Riverside again."
Louie saw Riverside
twenty-one years later. She found the homestead far more beautiful than she had
ever pictured it; the trees magnificent, the plantations grown out of all recognition,
but Jim's beautiful orchard was a desert waste! Only six fruit trees remained
of what was once a flourishing and fruitful garden.
HOME | BACK TO CONTENTS | WEBMASTER | FAMILY CREST | THE LITTLE DANE | REUNION
JOHANNESBURG
"When you children return
from school," said Louie one morning at breakfast, after they had been living
in Johannesburg for a year, "you will find my friend Mrs Wood, with me. You remember
I told you she used to be our governess when I was a child at Plaat River. She
is coming to spend a fortnight with us. I have not seen her for twenty-five years
and am so looking forward to the meeting."
"How you two will talk," said
Jim.
"I expect we shall."
Mrs Wood and Louie spent a very happy
fortnight together, there was so much of mutual interest in their lives; it seemed
to Jim that they would never cease talking, and he took this opportunity of spending
most of his evenings at the Chess Club, leaving Louie and her friend alone together
as much as possible.
"Have you kept up your music and singing?" Mrs Wood
asked one morning as they sat over their tea.
"Yes, I have had to, although
I am so ignorant about music. I never had another music lesson after you left.
If only you could have stayed a year or two longer! What a lot you have taught
me! None of the children are musical, and Jim hates a gramophone, so the only
music we have is what I give them. Fortunately the family is not critical and
most appreciative."
"Jim tells me you have been teaching the children yourself."
"Yes,
I am thankful that I taught for six years before my marriage, so was able to do
without a governess. I thought when we came to Johannesburg my teaching days were
over, but alas! during the first term the children got measles - of course they
had to be in quarantine for weeks, then a few weeks later Graham got scarlet fever
- again quarantine - I had to teach them because they could not afford to lose
a year as they are a year behind the average child."
"But why have you
allowed that?"
"Because I have seen children doing brilliantly, taking
their matriculation at fifteen or sixteen years of age, and that seems to mark
the end of their brilliancy; they either go into a bank or in some way 'mark time'
until they are old enough to go to College, or take up their life's work, and
that to my mind is the undoing of them. Just at the time when they need their
school life, and discipline to form their characters and get set in their ideas,
they are on their own. Our children will not write their matriculation until they
have turned eighteen, so you see they must be kept steadily at their work; and
when they have written matriculation, they will know what their careers in life
are to be."
"What are your boys going to do?"
"The twins of course,
will farm; there has never been any doubt about that. They are born farmers, which
pleases Jim very much. We don't know what Marcus is going to do. Jim has described
the different professions in great detail to him, wishing him to make a choice.
He is not attracted to law or survey, and when he listens to a description of
the medical profession, he shudders and says 'Oh no Dad! I will never be a doctor
- I should hate to see a lot of sick people, or to have to cut off a man's leg!'
he thinks the most attractive of the professions is that of an architect. So we
really don't know what he is going to do."
"What a change for you to be
living in Johannesburg. Do you like it?"
"In some ways," answered Louie
thoughtfully, "I find it interesting but I often long for the peace and quiet
of the country, and I think that Jim would remain home now that he is the Manager,
but alas! his business often takes him away. I cannot bear being alone with the
children in this big house, in this great wicked city, not even when Mother is
with me."
"Where is your Mother?" asked Mrs Wood, who had been very fond
of Mrs Flemmer when she acted as governess in her house.
"She is in the
Colony, staying with her different children."
After a few minutes silence,
Mrs Wood said, "I must tell you an amusing story."
"Wait," said Louie,
"I hear Jim's footsteps - he does love funny stories. Jim!" she called, "we are
in the drawing room, come in here as soon as you've taken off your hat. Mrs Wood
is going to tell us a funny story."
"Ah! That sounds interesting," said
Jim, sinking into an armchair, "I hope Louie has not talked you into a headache!"
"Jim,
for shame! You are a tease! I haven't done anything of the sort, have I Mrs Wood?"
"No,
indeed; it is so interesting for me to meet Louie after all these years - when
I think of the little girl I used to teach. It was when she had to wear that dreadful
plaster-of-paris model - poor child!"
"Jim, Mrs Wood was the new governess
who was asked if she did not think Louie 'dreadfully fat' and replied, 'No, I
thought what a straight back she had!' Oh! how grateful I was to you for those
words! I shall never forget my feelings as I waited to hear if you thought me
'dreadfully fat'. Now for your story."
"A friend of mine living in England
was going to London for a day's shopping. She had only a copper and a five pound
note in her bag. When she was about to take her seat in the train, she decided
she would like a newspaper, and not being able to attract the attention of the
newsboy, she dashed out, leaving her handbag on the seat. She returned with her
paper and off went the train.
"When she had finished reading, she opened
her bag. Imagine her horror and consternation to find the five pound note gone!
She looked across at the only other occupant of the carriage, a nice looking little
lady! 'You look a lady but you are a thief. You have stolen my five pounds,' she
thought.
"As the train rushed on she became more and more worried, she
had not even a sixpence! What was she to do on here arrival in London? Presently
the little lady rose and left the carriage, leaving her handbag on the seat. My
friend sprang up, opened the bag, saw the five pound note, slipped into her own
bag, closed both bags and sat down. The lady returned. To my friend's relief she
did not open her bag. They reached London and my friend did her shopping.
"In
the evening, when her husband met her at the station he said, 'Oh! my dear, I
have been so worried about you all day!' 'Why in the world should you be worried
about me?' 'Because you left the five pounds I gave you on your dressing table.'
When
the laughter had died away, Louie said, "Jim, do tell Mrs Wood about the Jew who
waited three days to see you!"
"That was rather amusing," said Jim, "When
I reached my office, after an absence of three days, my secretary informed me
that a Jew had been waiting all that time to see me. I said, 'Send him in,' as
I sat down in front of a huge pile of letters which had accumulated in my absence.
The Jew explained that he wished to buy a certain farm; what his farming methods
would be, and how he proposed to make money out of this purchase. He wanted my
advice on the subject. The farm had nothing to do with my company so we were getting
nothing out of the deal.
"My advice was 'Don't touch it.' He started to
explain and argue. I lost my temper, 'Get the hell out of it,' I shouted (excuse
the language) I've got enough work waiting for me without wasting time on you.'
"He
threw up his hands and said, 'Please Mr Rous, please, I vill do anything vat you
tell me. Dese Jews vat send me to you, dey believe on you like de Christians do
on Jesus Christ.'"
They were all sad when Mrs Wood had to leave. She had
proved herself a most interesting and entertaining visitor.
"I've got such
a lovely surprise for you all," said Jim one morning at breakfast, a few weeks
before the June vacation.
"What is it, dad?" came a chorus of excited voices.
"I
have arranged with a friend of mine for you to camp at Warmbaths for the holidays."
"How
lovely, oh! how lovely!" came from Louie as well as the children.
"I am
glad you are all so keen. My friend is going to fix a tent which you will use
as a living room, and you will have the use of one of the Company's caravans which
is being lent to you."
"Jim, how lovely it will be, and it will be so nice
for us to be out of town while you are away!"
"Yes, that is how I felt
about it; I know you dislike being here alone."
When Louie and her children
arrived at Warmbaths by train, they were met by their friend and found that a
nice spot had been selected, the tent pitched, and the caravan all ready for their
occupation. The caravan was like a railway carriage on four wheels, only more
roomy. At night it could be securely closed. The tables and the beds could be
let down or fastened back, which gave plenty of room should one wish for space
during the day.
There were hundreds and hundreds of tents, two thousand
people were camping, anxious to benefit by bathing in the hot springs, and by
drinking the water, which was said to have medicinal properties. Crowds of people
came to the caravan to ask if it was part of the circus! The idea that they could
think anything so funny amused the children.
Marcus was very ill for a
few days with a bad attack of diarrhoea and during the time of his illness, Jim,
far away in Sekuniland, dreamed he had arrived at Warmbaths and saw Marcus dead.
This dream was so vivid that as soon as he could reach a telephone, Jim put through
a long distance call to his Secretary in Johannesburg asking for news if his family,
and was much relieved to hear that they were alright.
Jim, with a party
of friends, had a very interesting time and rather an unusual experience: A very
old Native was in charge of the two hundred beaters who had to drive the game
for the hunters. The party decided to give the old man a present, so presented
him with a shirt, a blanket and a quantity of tobacco. They were more than repaid,
the old man's gratitude was pathetic, and in the evening he conveyed his thanks
in a most unique and unusual way.
Night fell, and the darkness lay on the
earth like a pall, broken only by the bright stars above and the campfire. The
fire had the effect of making everything look weird and grotesque - the stillness
was occasionally broken by the screech of some night bird, or the call of some
wild animal to its mate.
The group of five men sat round the fire, their
tent a short distance off. Presently on the outskirts of the firelight could be
seen the weird figure of the old man who had received the present. He was a tall,
thin, gaunt old man, clad only in a red blanket which covered his trunk, leaving
his long thin arms and bony legs exposed. A few scraggy hairs covered his head.
His wrinkled forehead, deep-set eyes, large, beak-like nose and prominent chin
gave him a most wizard-like appearance.
Finding a convenient antheap (this
is a mound of earth, very common in the Transvaal, made by the working of ants)
he mounted this improvised platform. Waving his long thin arms as though out of
the air, he was invoking spirits, he chanted in his own language, in a deep, harmonious
tone, 'The Great White Man has been pleased to honour his servant and so, will
the Spirits of the Night thank him? Thank him, oh! Spirits, thank him!'
There
was a pause, and then two hundred voices, from a short distance round the camp,
came on in full deep note in perfect harmony, 'We thank Thee.'
Again,
the old man chanted, again throwing out his arms. 'Thank him again, oh Spirits,
thank him again Oh Spirits of the Night!'
'WE THANK THEE!' came
again from the bush in that deep harmonious tone. Had the performance been rehearsed,
it could not have been more perfect. How the two hundred voices kept such perfect
tone remained a mystery, the most perfectly conducted orchestra could not have
performed more successfully.
The men round the campfire felt the blood
stir in their veins and an uncanny feeling pass over them which sent a shiver
up the spine.
"By Jove, that was weird and wonderful," said Jim. "Wallie,
did you ever expect such entertainment in the bush?"
"No, indeed, I could
not have believed such an experience possible."
Jim was an excellent shot.
He was extraordinarily quick in all his movements and everything he did - always
in the forefront. His companions decided to play a trick on him, and have some
fun,
After a long day's tramp, the men were glad to get back to camp and
enjoy a rest before the evening meal; they lolled about, some reading, some talking.
Presently the old man who was in charge of the beaters put his head into the tent
-
"Kuddoo, baas, Kuddoo," he whispered in a deep and thrilling voice.
In
an instant every man was up, looking for his gun and prepared to rush out. Jim
was the first out of the tent, and ready for action. The old man led the way.
Though there is very little twilight in South Africa, there is a time between
the dark and the daylight which we call twilight - it is not dark and yet difficult
to see objects at any distance. After going some way into the bush the old man
stopped. Pointing with his long finger he whispered, "There, baas, there - look
his horns. Big Koodoo, baas, shoot!"
The uncertain light made it very difficult
for Jim to be sure of the position of the animal. He could see the horns but would
have to fire through the grass without being able to see the body of the beast.
He hesitated …….
"Shoot! Baas shoot!" the old man urged excitedly, standing
close to Jim and pointing. Jim fired. There was a roar of laughter from his companions.
"Ha!
Ha!" they shouted, "We thought we'd get you! Those are a pair of horns fastened
to a bush!"
Jim joined in the laughter against himself.
"But how
did you know I would be the one to shoot at the horns without a body?" he asked.
"We
did not have a doubt about that," answered Wallie, still laughing, "you are always
so quick, we knew you would be the first to be ready to shoot - the old man played
up to the part splendidly, didn't he?"
"Indeed he did, he was so keen I
never had a suspicion of a practical joke being played on me."
A few evenings
later, as the friends were returning to camp, they observed a number of guinea
fowl running along, their heads just visible above the long grass.
"Rous,
I'd like to see you shoot one of those guinea fowl!"
Up went Jim's gun
and off went the head of a guinea fowl.
"That was a fluke," said Wallie,
"I bet you won't do it again!"
Jim did it three times in succession.
"Splendid!
By jove, you CAN shoot!"
Wallie's voice was full of admiration for
his friend's achievement.
"Shoot! Shoot! Wallie," urged Jim excitedly as
he and his friend stood on an eminence and saw a large kuddoo on the crest of
the hill across the valley a few days later.
"Ridiculous," answered Wallie,
"I could no more hit it than fly. You shoot!"
Up went Jim's gun and down
came the kuddoo.
"You've missed him," said Wallie, as the men ran down
the incline into the valley.
"I think not," answered Jim, "I heard the
bullet 'tell'; there he lies, and what a beauty, what a magnificent pair of horns!
You can have them, Wallie, I know how anxious you have been to secure a pair."
"Thanks
very much. I would be glad to have them."
The beaters arrived and were
very excited over the 'kill' doing what was necessary, cutting the poor animal's
throat - and then they were joined by the rest of the party.
"By Jove! Rouse,
you've got a world's record here!"
"Do you think so?" asked Jim, "They
belong to Wallie, I've given him the horns."
"Do you really think these
horns are a world's record?" asked Wallie.
"I am absolutely positive,"
answered the authority on horns.
"If that is so, I am not going to take
them - if they are a world's record, Jim, you've got to keep them."
"Nonsense,"
said Jim, "I've given them to you."
The friends argued long and heatedly,
Jim hating to take what he had given to his friend and Wallie determined not to
take so valuable a trophy from Jim. When the horns were measured, it was found
that over the curve the measurement was seventy-two inches.
"By Jove,"
said the authority on horns, 'they are a world's record and beat Selous' horns
by eight inches! He has held the world's record all these years, the horns of
his kuddoo measured sixty-four inches. You and Wallie are not going to argue any
more. I am going to hold a court and our decision must be final," said the ex-magistrate.
The
Court unanimously decided the horns belonged to Jim and so the case was settled.
The
wonderful kuddoo horns have been much admired. What pleased Jim very much was
that they were the means of bringing him in touch with Mr John Millais, son of
Sir John Millais. Millais read an account of the horns in a sporting paper and
wrote to Jim offering him a hundred pounds as he wished to add the horns to his
collection. Millais and Jim kept up a correspondence over a number of years and
became great friends, thought they never met. They had much in common, both being
sportsmen and interested in wild animal life.
The only time Jim contemplated
parting with the kuddoo horns was when they were under offer to the late ex-President
Roosevelt for a thousand pounds. Mr Roosevelt died before the deal was concluded,
and so the horns remained in the Rous family, who are keen that they shall become
a family heirloom, and be handed down from father to son.
"Jim," said Wallie,
a few evenings later, as the party sat round the campfire. "I have never come
across anyone who could beat your shooting. How do you come to be such a good
shot? I am sure you have been trained in a hard school. Tell me something of your
experiences."
Jim laughed, "When I was a small boy, many and many a time
I shot a buck with the only remaining bullet, knowing that if I missed that buck
my friend, a boy a couple of years my senior, would get a jolly good thrashing
from his father. We took it in turns to shoot, off that one bullet - and I don't
think we ever missed."
"I say! You little beggars had some pluck. Splendid
training for you. Have you ever done any other interesting shooting?"
"Yes,
while I was farming in the Colony at Tafelberg hall, I received a wire from my
uncle asking me to send off some springbok in time to catch a steamer leaving
Port Elizabeth for England. I'll never forget that day! One of the worst dust-storms
I've ever experienced, a howling North West wind, and to add to my misery I had
a beastly headache."
"Couldn't you wait for the next day, in case the weather
was fine, and your headache gone?"
"No, that was impossible, the buck had
to leave by that evening's train. I set out on horseback; of course, there are
plenty of springbok on the farm - I rode towards some koppies and a good deal
of growth - mimosa thorn trees - I saw a herd of buck - they were sheltering from
the wind. I left my horse, climbed into the donga and crept along. My luck was
in; as I was below wind, the buck had no idea of my presence. I awaited my opportunity
and as the bunched, I fired. With that one shot I brought down four rams!"
"Great
Scott! That was some shooting," interrupted Wallie excitedly.
"It was bad
luck in a way," continued Jim, "as I only wanted two. I was alone, a headache
and the awful day: I had to cut their throats, disembowel them and fasten them
on to my horse - of course there was no room for me on his back, so I had to walk,
leading the horse home."
"You have had some interesting experiences. I
believe you have travelled along the Kalahari - I expect you've met some queer
people."
"Some most interesting people," Jim interrupted.
"Tell
us; I like hearing of your experiences better than listening to your poetry -
I say, you chaps, do you know that Jim recited poetry to me for two solid hours
the other day when he and I were lying in wait for buck? How you can remember
all that I can't think. 'Lasca' was the one I liked best - we'll get you to say
it another time. Let's hear about some of these interesting people you've met
in that God forsaken part of the world."
"I found Stumkie a most interesting
man and I've never met anyone who understood and loved animals as he did, really
it is impossible to make you fellows realise how he treated his animals. He and
I had to do some riding together - we travelled at a jog-trot - he would never
canter a horse - so you can imagine how much pleasure I got out of those rides,
I, with my irritability and impatient temper! Instead of gettting a move on at
our jog-trot - here he would let the horse graze! 'Stumkie!' I shouted at him,
'for goodness sake, man, come one - this is no time for the horse to be feeding.'
"
'Fossie,' says Stumkie to his horse, 'he's getting angry with us, Fossie, come
now, you can't have any more grass - he'll be telling me to beat you if we don't
hurry, and you know I could never do that.' We would trot along for a couple of
hundred yards, and there was Fossie nibbling at the grass again! Strong language
from me - and gentle remonstrances from Stumkie. Heavens! Wasn't I thankful when
we could do our business on foot!
"One day the herd of cattle were brought
up to the homestead and chased into the kraal. When we came to count them a young
bull was missing. Stumkie was greatly puzzled, 'But I saw Zwartland outside the
kraal as I was coming up from the house, where can he have got to?'
" 'It's
no good puzzling over the disappearance of Zwartland,' I said, 'he must have gone
back to the veld. Send a couple of men out to look for him.'
"He took my
advice and we walked down to the house. Imagine how surprised we were to find
Zwartland lying on the floor of the sitting-room, chewing the cud as happy as
a king!"
"Well I never! How did you get him out?"
"Oh! Stumkie managed
that alright," laughing at the recollection. "He talked to him - yes, just as
he talks to his horse, as if they were people. 'Oh! I say, Zwartland, old boy,
we can't have a bull in a china shop! Come now, this is no place for you, and
here I've been looking for you and so worried, and you in my sitting-room all
the time.'"
"What a very amusing man! Anything else to tell about him?"
"Well!
He had the most extraordinary experience with a tiger. If it had not been Stumkie
who told me I could not have believed the tale, but of course there were his missing
teeth, and his three weeks in hospital to prove what he told us was true."
"Do
tell us about it. It sounds like a thriller."
"Stumkie lived on a farm
many, many miles beyond Vryburg, on the edge of the desert. He was having trouble
with tigers killing his animals, so he and a couple of his native servants set
out on horseback with their guns to track the tiger. They had followed his spoor
for miles - it was almost sunset when Stumkie decided to turn for home and start
out again the next morning; as he turned his horse he say the tiger lying in a
bush! He fired! Missed! The tiger leapt on to the horse and started mauling Stumkie
- they both fell off and the horse bolted!"
"Merciful Heaven! What a predicament
to be in! and you mean to tell me that Stumkie is alive to tell the tale!"
"He's
alive alright. The horse came trotting back to where the tiger was standing over
Stumkie, the tiger left Stumkie and leaped on the horse's back, tearing at the
saddle. The horse trotted off and presently the tiger fell to the ground. Stumkie
had his gun ready and as the tiger came towards him, fired, and missed! The two
natives were some distance off, they also having bolted when the tiger first leaped
on to Stumkie's horse. He shouted to them to come back and shoot the tiger.
"They
turned their horses and came riding slowly back, and Stumkie set out to walk towards
them, with the tiger walking beside him! When the men saw him, they turned, but
Stumkie shouted out to them, saying he was no ghost or wizard, and that if they
did not shoot the tiger, it would surely kill him. He ordered one of the men to
bring his rifle, which was an excellent one, and after much persuasion from Stumkie
and many qualms on the part of the native, the gun was at last handed to Stumkie
as he and the tiger came strolling along side by side. Stumkie took it and placing
it close to the head of the tiger, he fired. Of course he felt a brute, seeing
the animal was walking so trustfully beside him - but there was nothing for it
- as I said, he lost a couple of teeth, bitten out by the tiger, and lay in the
Vryburg Hospital for several weeks as a result of the mauling he got."
"I
do think your stories take a lot of beating," said Wallie.
Once
more the family was reunited in their home in Johannesburg and many interesting
evenings were spent as they told of their experiences. The children were wildly
excited about the kuddoo head.
"What else did you shoot, Dad" asked Marcus
one evening as they gathered round the fire.
"I only fired thirteen shots
at big game."
"And how many did you kill?"
"I killed eleven, and
nine of those were shot through the heart. But as I was saying, I was really on
business, and I was very anxious for my friends to have all the sport possible.
I am more sorry than I can say, that my friend Wallie did not get a pair of kuddoo
horns. He is such a sport. He is far from well, yet never complains. When he is
looking ghastly and I ask him how he is, he answers cheerfully, 'Oh! not too merry
and bright!' and that is all he ever admits."
"Poor man," said Louie, her
sympathy stirred at once, "I cannot bear to think of anyone suffering. Marcus
do put some more coal on the fire."
"You remember James, the man I told
you about who lives near the desert? Well, the Company has to wind up his affairs
and I fear it will mean a lot of trouble; he is such a determined, headstrong
beggar! I shall have to go down to Bechuanaland one of these days."
It
seemed to Louie as if the bottom had fallen out of the world as she stood at the
head of the stairs with a newspaper in her hand, waiting for Jim, who had risen
with the lark in order to be able to play tennis before going to the Office.
"Jim,"
she called excitedly, "War! War!! War!!! Can you imagine anything more terrible?"
He
seized the paper. Together they read……….
"I have been over to Pretoria,"
said Jim, a week later, "and have offered my services to Smuts."
"What
did he say?" asked Louie breathlessly.
"He says he has plenty of men for
the field; that I will be serving my country by carrying on the huge farming concern
of the Transvaal Estates and Development Company, which is giving employment to
hundreds, who are producing thousands of bags of mealies. He thinks it would not
be easy to put another man in charge."
"How thankful I am that you do not
have to go. I hope I should be brave if you did have to go, but what a relief
to think you can serve your country though you are at home. War is cruel and beastly!
We really should be able to settle disputes without fighting. Wouldn't it be funny
if two men were walking down the street, began to argue and then to fight. Of
course, I mean gentlemen - what a funny sight. This is the same thing, only on
a larger scale! Somebody told me today it will all be over in three months. What
do you think?"
"It is quite impossible to say. I must go to Bechuanaland
next week."
For the next few weeks Johannesburg was in a fervour of excitement
- The Foster Gang, the shooting by accident of a doctor, General de la Rey killed
in the Johannesburg streets, the drowning of General Beyers. Poor Louie felt as
though the world were going mad, and longed to be in some quiet place, away from
all the unrest and excitement.
"Jim," said Louie, as she led the way into
the dining room, where some refreshments had been prepared for him, "I am so glad
to have you home, safe and sound."
"You nearly didn't!"
"What ever
do you mean?"
"I didn't want you to know before I left for Bechuanaland
that James had threatened to shoot me."
"Jim!"
"Yes, I knew it would
worry you."
"Did the men in your office know about this threat?"
"Yes,
they did their best to stop me going but, that, of course, was ridiculous. I had
to attend to my business."
"Oh dear!" sighed Louie, sinking into a chair
"tell me everything that happened."
"I had a lot of business to attend
to and while far out in the wilds, miles and miles from anywhere, I made for a
spot where I knew we would find water. We camped. The next morning poor old Isaac
-" (Jim's faithful native driver and son of old Ayah Diena)
"Did he also
know of your danger?" interrupted Louie.
"Yes, he came to my tent, 'Baas,'
he whispered hardly able to speak, 'Baas James is camped on the other side of
the water.'"
"Oh! Jim how awful."
"I dressed and walked over to
his camp. He was standing at the side of his wagon, his great burly figure in
rough corduroy breeches and khaki shirt, drinking a cup of coffee. 'Hullo old
chap!' I said, slapping him on the shoulder, but careful not to spill his coffee,
'You've been out in the wilds for many months; I believe you must be longing for
decent food. Come along to my tent and have a good civilised breakfast.'"
"Jim!
How wonderful of you! And he came?"
"He came alright, and after giving
him a slap-up breakfast, we had a heart to heart talk. I explained that the winding
up of his affairs had nothing to do with me personally; that if he shot me there
would only be another man in my place to carry on the winding up."
"You
made him see reason?"
"I did, and we parted the best of friends. Poor old
James, he little knows how sorry I am for him!"
A few evenings later Louie
was much alarmed by Jim's appearance when he walked into the house.
"Whatever
have you been doing?" she asked in distress.
"I was in the express, coming
from Pretoria, and as the train was nearing Jeppe Station, someone fired at it,
right into the window of my carriage. The window was closed, the shot passed just
above my head, splintering the glass and cutting my face like this, my hair is
full of little bits of glass."
"Heavens! What an escape you've had."
The
next morning Jim came home with the news that Stumkie had been killed. All through
those months and years of War Louie's heart was wrung by constantly hearing of
the death of some friend or relative. Three years and still war!
"How would
you like to spend a month in Cape Town, Louie," asked Jim.
"I would love
it," promptly answered Louie.
"I thought so, well, we must think of some
arrangement about the children and when that's fixed up, we'll be off. I am sick
to death of office life and want to get back to farming."
"Jim, how exciting."
"We'll
go down and have a look at the fruit farms in the Western Province and see how
we like the idea of growing fruit for a living!"
A wonderful month was
spent in Cape Town, but fruit growing did not appeal to either Jim or Louie. However,
the trip to Cape Town marked another turning point in their lives.
Tafelberg
Hall was in the market; Jim's aunt was most anxious that he should buy it.
"It
has been in Louie's family for nearly forty years, and in your family for twenty
five years," said the lady, "and Louie grew up in the neighbourhood and spent
years at Tafelberg Hall at school, and you lived on the property for seven years
- so I feel that you two are the ones who should be in possession of Tafelberg
Hall."
The necessary business was arranged, and, with a partner, the property
was bought.
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CHAPTER
VII
TAFELBERG HALL
As
Jim was the Manager of the Transvaal Estates and Development Company, it was necessary
that he should give three month's notice before he could be released from the
responsible position he held.
The family had left the large house in which
they had resided for two years, and had bought a property, a much smaller house
but very comfortable, in which they had lived for nearly two years, when the children
caught whooping cough, which meant they were out of school.
One day when
Jim came home to dinner he said, "I've had a splendid offer for this house, a
hundred pounds more than we paid for it, but as the would-be purchaser wants it
in a fortnight's time I have turned down the offer."
"Oh! you mustn't do
that," exclaimed Louie, "we can't refuse such a chance to sell!"
"But you
can't possibly let them have the house in a fortnight's time!"
"Of course
I can. We'll pack up and send everything to Tafelberg, the children and I will
got to Vereeneging and stay with our friends Mr & Mrs Wilson, who have long wanted
us to come, and as they have no children of their own and are on a farm, it will
be an ideal arrangement for our whooping children."
"Splendid," said Jim,
"You do show some spirit, and I am pleased to see your courage and energy. I'll
phone the man as soon as I get back to the office, and tell him he can have the
house. Unfortunately I have to go to Cape Town next week on business for the Company,
which means that you will be alone for the final packing and getting away."
"Don't
worry about that," said Louie, "if you will pack the pictures, I'll manage the
rest."
On his return from office that evening, Jim called excitedly to
Louie, "You will never guess whom I had in my office this afternoon as callers!"
"No,
I can't imagine. Do tell me!"
"Mr & Mrs Wilson! They had read in some newspaper,
not that I was 'dead' like Jack Robinson, but of our purchase of Tafelberg Hall,
and came in to congratulate me. Mrs Wilson said sadly, 'I suppose there is no
chance now of Mrs Rous and the children coming to spend their promised holiday
with me.' 'Indeed,' I told her, 'that's just where you are making a mistake, she
is arranging to come in a fortnight's time!' Mrs Wilson was delighted to hear
this and says you must come as soon as you can and stay as long as possible! Isn't
that most satisfactory?"
The end of the fortnight saw the whole house dismantled
and the furniture packed. Louie and the children had been living in the greatest
discomfort for several days. It was impossible for them to go to an Hotel or boarding
house on account of the infection. The state of the dismantled house had a most
depressing effect on Marcus. He lay on a little cane couch in front of the fire
in the dining room, feeling too ill and unhappy to take an interest in anything.
A
friend of Louie's, who lived almost next door, had been kind enough to suggest
that she and the children spend their last night in Johannesburg in their house,
and leave from there for Vereeniging.
"Mother," said Marcus, "I feel too
ill to get up! Please leave a lot of wood beside me and I will sleep here and
keep the fire going all night. You and the kids go, but leave me here."
"My
dear Marcus, I'll never do that," said his mother, "I could not think of such
a thing; to leave you, ill and alone in this empty house is not to be thought
of. I'll write a note to my friend and tell her you are feeling too ill to move,
and I am afraid to take you out in this dreadful weather. It is most bitterly
cold and it has begun to rain. You and I will stay here."
Louie dispatched
her note and a few minutes later her friend came dashing into the house.
"What
an absurd idea!" she said with energy, "I will not allow you and Marcus to remain
here. Let him lie on the couch, cover him up and let the two native boys carry
him to my house."
This was done. The two native men placed the couch in
the passage, Marcus rose and walked into the dining room.
"Mother," he
said with a bright and happy smile, "I am perfectly well!" and so he was. The
change from the dismantled house where he had been, to the bright and cheerful
room had worked a miracle.
As Louie and her friend sat over the fire and
chatted, after the children had been put to bed, the former remarked, "I have
never in my life experienced such cold!"
"I shouldn't be surprised if it
snowed," replied her friend.
"Oh, don't suggest anything so dreadful!"
replied Louie, "think of my journey with the children tomorrow."
Louie's
consternation next morning as she looked through her bedroom window on to a white
world, can be better imagined than described. She could not bear to trespass on
the hospitality of her friends, nor could she face the thought of travelling with
the children in such weather. When she told her host and hostess of her anxiety
and worry, they were kindness itself and placed their home at her disposal.
After
the third day, the weather cleared sufficiently for Louie and the children to
make the journey.
To be on a farm was ideal for the children in every way.
They were allowed perfect freedom except for two hours daily which were set aside
for their lessons.
"What have you children been doing?" asked their mother
one day as they came in.
"The weather is so bad, that I meant you to stay
indoors."
"We have been playing inside," said Marcus, "playing in the empty
house next door."
"We've had such fun," said Marjory, "Marcus has been
making the electric bells ring."
"Good Gracious!" exclaimed Mrs Wilson,
turning round excitedly. "What is this you have been doing, and how did you do
it?"
"I found the cells and filled them with water, now all the bells can
ring."
"Do you think you could put those bells into my house?" asked Mrs
Wilson excitedly.
"Of course I could," answered Marcus, "It's quite easy."
"Well,
I'm going to ask Mr Wilson if we may remove them, and I'll get you to do it after
dinner."
"I would love to do it," said Marcus.
Having obtained Mr
Wilson's consent to the removal of the bells, they were successfully transferred,
to the great pleasure and satisfaction of Mrs Wilson.
"I wonder," she said
to Marcus, "if you could be as helpful to me with the electric light, as you have
been with the bells? I want an extension into my pantry. Do you think you could
do it?"
"If Mr Wilson will give me the wire, the bulb and the fittings,
I would love to do it for you."
"Mother," said the fourteen year old boy
a little later, "Mr Wilson asked me where I learned about electricity. Wasn't
that funny? Because a person doesn't learn about electricity or electric bells;
you just know."
When Jim arrived to spend the weekend, as he did on many
occasions, Louie was pleased to see the twin's pride in Marcus' work as they showed
their dad what had been accomplished. Jim, who was a severe critic, was equally
proud, and could find no fault.
"I have bought you boys an airgun," said
Jim, "I want you to be good shots so keep count of the birds you shoot and give
me the figures when next I come. I know Mr Wilson will be glad if you can destroy
some of the little beggars which are eating his fruit."
During the course
of their visit, the children got into severe trouble with their hostess, which
Louie thought was not altogether their fault. At eleven o'clock one morning a
huge plate of buttered toast was produced, to the great delight of the children.
"I don't think you should have more than one piece each," said their mother, "you
will never be able to eat your dinner if you do."
"Of course they will
be able to eat their dinner," said Mrs Wilson, "it's hours before dinner time."
The
children thoroughly enjoyed their morning tea, then set out on their adventures.
They were just in time to see a wagon drawn by four oxen leaving the yard. They
dashed after it and the men in charge allowed them to climb up. After travelling
for several miles, the wagon reached its destination. Here the children found
a great deal to amuse and interest them and they played happily for hours.
As
there was no sign of the children, although dinner had been delayed half an hour,
Mr and Mrs Wilson and Louie sat down and ate it alone. Two o'clock came, and still
no children. At four o'clock there was a rush of feet and eager voices were heard
asking: "Is it dinner time?"
Mrs Wilson was very angry and gave them a
severe scolding. However, she set before them a feast which they thoroughly enjoyed
but which, she said, she did only for their mother's sake!
The boys were
kept very busy and interested in shooting birds, and looked forward eagerly to
Jim's visits, to give him their results.
Placing his hand on Marcus' shoulder,
Jim led the boy into the garden.
"Marcus," he said, "why is it that you
and Leslie have always shot more birds than Graham. Is he such a bad shot?"
"No,
Dad, it is because he gets so sorry for the little birds. He has a splendid chance
to hit a bird, and just as he is going to shoot, he drops the gun and says, 'It's
a hen, perhaps she is sitting on eggs, perhaps she has little ones in her nest,
waiting for her to feed them.' And if it is a cock he says, 'If I kill it, perhaps
the poor little hen will be waiting for her mate,' so of course there is nothing
left for him to shoot, and it's only when we tell him that he's an idiot and make
him shoot, that he does!"
"Dear old Graham, he has a very tender heart,"
said his Dad.
At last the long-looked
for day arrived when the family were in the train on their way to Tafelberg. It
was night when they reached the little wayside station. They found their partner
and his wife waiting to receive them, with two carts which would convey them to
the homestead, four miles off. Louie and Jim much appreciated the welcome they
received from their very old friends, two gentlemen who lived in the neighbourhood.
The
rush of memories which were hers as she stepped on to the platform were a mixture
of joy and sorrow. Here it was she had arrived, when she was eight years old after
her first train journey, in an open truck. From this little platform she came
and went on her many journeys to and from Cradock and it was here that she arrived
when Jim carried her off from Rocklands during the trouble with her eyes. She
pictured the home of her childhood, which lay a mile beyond the station; turned
and looked at the little church, whose outline could be distinctly
seen in the bright moonlight. Her grandfather, Mr Distin, had given the plot of
ground on which it stood, her father had worked hard for its erection and had
been treasurer and churchwarden, and she herself had been organist for eight years
before her marriage.
Memories! Memories!! Memories!!!
"How glad
I am," said Louie, as they jogged along, that it is such a beautiful night and
I can see the outline of the dear old mountain. I am longing to show the children
all the interesting and beautiful spots. I love to think that they are going to
run abut in the garden their great grandmother laid out and planted, where their
Mother played as a child, and their grandmother before her."
"Come along,
children," said Louie, the next morning, "I am longing to show you the gardens
and all the familiar spots; this little bench is just midway on this very long
walk. My grandfather had it specially made for his Mother."
"Isn't it wonderful
that it has lasted all these years?" said Marcus.
"Yes, indeed it is; the
old lady liked to sit here and rest during her walk. I can remember her quite
well, she was such a dainty little lady, and very pretty, even in her old age,
with bright rosy cheeks and snow white hair. She was very upright and always sat
stiffly on her chair, never dreaming of reclining in an armchair. There is the
spot where Dad stood attending to a clutch of ostrich chicks when Ida introduced
us to one another. Now come and look at the fig trees."
"Mother! What a
lot of names!" exclaimed the children, as they excitedly tried to decipher names
and initials and dates on the fig trees.
"Look at this," said Louie, "in
each case the whole name has been written. These were Ida's parents - Mary Distin,
John Montague, 1870. I do appreciate the fact that Dad's cousin has kept these
trees as the Distins left them; during the many years that he was here he has
not allowed anyone to carve his or her name, so all the carving you see has been
done by the Distin family, their friends and relations. You children must carve
your names; I am so proud to think they will be on these old trees. After dinner
we will walk over to 'The Little Fountain'"
"Needn't we do any lessons?"
asked Leslie.
"No dear, we are going to have three weeks' holiday as there
is so much for us to see, and to do, that it is impossible to think of lessons
at present. Dad and I have decided that we will not send you to boarding school
until after the Christmas vacation. Marcus, you have to go into Standard VII,
Marjory you Standard VI and you two Standard IV. We have five months in which
to do a lot of hard work. I am afraid we shall have a lot of interruptions with
visitors coming. An aunt of mine arrives next week. During Christmas and New Year
there will be no work done, so we must settle down to work in real earnest after
your three weeks' holiday."
In the afternoon the family walked over to
the 'Little Fountain'. This had been a favourite picnic spot during all the years
the Distins lived at Tafelberg. It lay a mile from the house and was an ideal
spot in which to spend a day. As its name implied there was a fountain, a clear
beautiful stream which trickled down between two koppies, hundreds of splendid
mimosa thorn trees grew in rich profusion all down the valley. A great change
had taken place during Jim and Louie's absence in the Transvaal; a wall had been
built between the two koppies, making a huge dam on the upper side and below this
wall was a smaller dam and the trees.
"Look at this water," said Jim as
he turned a valve, "isn't it a glorious sight? This is an overflowing borehole;
it was discovered by Mr Harry McLeod, who lives in Cradock."
"Dad, how
did he discover it?" asked Graham.
"With a divining rod. These artesian
wells are quite common in Australia, but I believe there are only five in South
Africa, and we are lucky to have one of the five!"
"It is a lovely spot,"
said Marjory, "I do like all these trees and water. May we have a picnic here?"
"Yes,
of course you may. Come now and look at an interesting spot and I will tell you
something about it. This building used to be just two rooms, and when I was a
child at school, we walked over here one afternoon with our governess and were
chased by a vicious bull. We were glad to remember these rooms and made for them
- we rushed in and closing the door, watched the infuriated animal as he bellowed
and pawed the ground. It grew quite dark and still the bull had not forgotten
that he had chased several frightened people into that house. When the family
assembled round the table for supper, it was discovered that the governess and
her charges had not returned from their walk. Everybody was much alarmed. Two
of my uncles leaped on to their horses as soon as they were saddled, and made
straight for this spot, knowing it was our favourite walk, and here they found
us, the frightened children looking through the cracks in the wooden shutter and
the bull still pawing the ground. They drove off the bull and escorted us home,
where we arrived with ravenous appetites for our late supper!"
"What a
good thing they missed you," said Marjory, "you might have stayed there all night."
"Yes,
indeed we were very thankful to be rescued. It would have been too dreadful had
we been kept prisoners all night."
The children were each given a horse
of their own and their delight in their animals was pretty to see. Jim was most
anxious that they should become expert in the handling of the horses so they were
taught to groom, to feed and to saddle, as well as to ride them.
"They
are very apt pupils," said Jim, "and Marjory is as keen as the boys."
"I
don't think Marjory should be treated exactly like the boys in this case," said
Louie.
"That is where you make a mistake," said Jim, "It is essential for
her to become absolutely familiar with her horse, and unless she handles him as
she is doing, it is impossible for her to do so. I do think girls need a much
broader bringing up than they get."
During January Lily Ziervogel, now
Mrs Shaw, the friend of Louie's childhood, who saved her from
falling in the well, arrived at Tafelberg, with her three children, and a very
happy holiday was spent. There was much to amuse and entertain the children and
the friends were never at a loss for topics of conversation - they found so much
of interest in relating their various experiences.
"This is rather amusing,"
said Jim, as with an open letter in his hand, he came into the drawing room where
Lily and Louie sat with their work. "This letter is from a man I know in the Transvaal,
and it is a letter of condolence: he says all our friends are very sad at the
dreadful news they have heard - that is of the sad loss of my wife and two of
my children.…."
"What an extraordinary letter!" exclaimed Louie.
"Yes,
it appears you and the two children were in a boat on the dam, the boat turned
turtle and you three drowned. He does not know whether the children who drowned
were the two eldest or the twins, or a twin and on of the elder ones, and asks
me to write and give him all the details."
"Isn't it strange," said Louie,
"how such rumours get about and we've not even got a boat!"
"This is the
second time Louie has been reported dead," said Jim.
"Is that so?" asked
Lily with interest, "do tell me about the other time."
"When the twins
were about three years old, I happened to be in Pretoria, waiting for hours for
a train, so made up my mind to pass the time by calling on a lady and her mother
who were friends of ours. They behaved in such a peculiar manner that I could
not refrain from asking them if anything was the matter. The younger woman then
said how she had been trying for a whole month to write me a letter of sympathy,
but had not been able to do so as words failed her when she thought of the poor
little children, especially the twins. I asked her to explain herself as I had
no idea what she was talking about. 'I am talking about your wife's death.' 'My
wife's death! Good Lord! She was perfectly well when I left home this morning.'
"The
poor lady went on to explain that a gentleman from our neighbourhood had called
on them a month previously and had informed them of the death of Mrs Rous! They
had asked for details, which he could not supply, but was absolutely certain that
it was Mrs James Cole Rous who had died."
"I wonder how he could have got
hold of such an extraordinary story! If I had been ill there might have been an
explanation of such a rumour, but I have never known a day's illness."
"It
is strange," agreed Lily, "I have heard that a person who has been reported dead
lives to a great age and is very lucky. You should live to a very great age and
be particularly lucky, since you've twice been reported dead."
'Of course,
I don't know about living to a great age, but I certainly am lucky."
At
all times in her life Louie was much affected by the state of the weather. On
many occasions Jim laughed at her because she would say, "Oh! it is such a perfectly
glorious day, I simply cannot work! I must spend the time appreciating the good
gifts of the gods!" another time she would say, "The day is too awful, I just
don't want to think about it, so I must have a nice book and just sit and read."
Jim
would say, "If my grandfather, the preacher Cole, could hear you, he would say,
'It is good growing weather.' No matter how bad the day was he would never allow
anyone to criticise what God gave us!"
Boarding School: Fortunately
for Louie, on the day that the big roomy Cape cart stood at the door, with the
four little trunks strapped on behind, the afternoon was perfect. Had the weather
been bad, it would have been more than she could possibly have borne. They drove
to the station where they caught the train and arrived in Cradock after two hours.
Here they spent a few days with Mrs Shaw before the children were taken to their
various schools.
Louie found Cradock very much changed. Beautiful homes,
gardens and streets lay beyond Frere Street, and stretched right up to the koppies.
The old house in Frere Street was just the same, the same old railings between
whose bars her head has stuck when she was a child. Her children were very interested
in this and other old familiar spots which she was able to show them. It was a
new Rocklands to which she took Marjory, a splendid pile of buildings lying right
on the outskirts of town and far beyond Frere Street. Louie was very pleased to
find so many of her old friends still living in Cradock, friends of her childhood,
the little Dorothy who had read to her when she spent her days lying on a couch,
now Mrs Storr Garlake and the mother of four children; Mr Metcalf who had been
her parents' greatest friend and who had given her a high chair when she was two
years old. This linking with the past was full of thrills for Louie.
On
Sunday afternoon Louie engaged a taxi and drove the three boys to the Boys' School
and Marjory to Rocklands, and on Monday morning she returned to Tafelberg by an
early train. Her courage was taxed to the uttermost as through that long day she
attended to various household duties and tried to be brave; but it was a sore
trial as her heart ached for herself and her children, she knew how homesick they
would be, how dreadful for them to be cooped up and have strict rules after the
free farm life; how they would be missing their dogs and their horses and all
the other interests which kept their little lives so busy and joyous. Her heart
longed and yearned over them - if only she could hear the rush of their feet and
the sound of their merry voices! The deathly stillness of the house seemed more
than she could bear during that long, long afternoon.
The strain of the
last few days was telling on her; she was not feeling well enough to go down to
the shed, about a quarter of a mile off, where Jim was supervising the shearing
of the sheep, and it was impossible for him to leave his work, even to join Louie
in a cup of tea, and so she sat alone - utterly sad and miserable!
"Hullo,"
exclaimed Jim as he came in at sunset to find Louie in tears, a most unusual sight.
"Whatever is the matter, old lady?" he asked, sitting down beside her on the couch.
"I'm
so sad about the children," sobbed Louie.
"But, my dear, you should be
glad that we are able to send them to school."
"I know, and I am glad,
but I do miss them so, and I know how their poor little hearts must be aching
and how homesick they must be."
"Never mind, we'll go down and spend a
weekend with them and that will cheer you all. Write and tell them we'll come
quite soon, and then when you see how jolly they are, you'll realise that you
need not be sad for them. Think if they had to go to England, or even Cape Town!"
"Oh!
I know, I could not have borne that."
"Well, cheer up and don't be sad
any more. It is a pity we could not have spent the afternoon together. Tomorrow
you must try and get down to the shed."
"You can't think," said Louie,
"how sad the children were at the station when they parted with their dogs, and
the dogs seemed to understand what was happening; they followed the train, Grundy
and Gamble ran for miles! The children were very distressed, thinking they could
not find their way home again!"
A few months later, as Jim and Louie were
reading their post, Jim exclaimed, "Ah! Wonders will never cease! Of all the impossible
things that could have happened! Here is a letter from Oom Jan, saying he is coming
to see us!"
"You don't say so," exclaimed Louie, "I am glad, I think he
is the dearest man I know."
"Yes," agreed Jim, "I have the greatest admiration
and respect for him. It is sad that he has been so unfortunate in his sons."
"It
is indeed very sad to think that he has lost three sons, all such promising boys,
and Oom Jan was so devoted to each of them in turn. I am surprised that he can
tear himself away from his baby boy, the consolation of his old age, and all the
more precious having lost all his other boys. Isn't it strange, Jim, how often
one sees families who are very keen about having boys, either have only girls
or lose the boys when they do have them?"
"Yes, that is so when one comes
to think of it. Poor Oom Jan, with his eight daughters!"
"I do hope this
little chap grows up and is a comfort to him, in his old age."
"Judging
from his letter, he spoils the little fellow alright. He says he carries him about
wherever he goes and cannot bear him out of his sight."
A few days later
Oom Jan arrived. It was several years since the friends had met, consequently
they had much to talk about, as Oom Jan was a very poor correspondent. He could
not speak or understand English, so Louie and Jim spoke only Afrikaans during
his stay with them.
"I hope you had a pleasant journey, that you were able
to sleep and had a good night?" asked Louie.
"Sleep in the train!" replied
Oom Jan indignantly, "Louie, do you think I could come out of the Transvaal, take
this long journey and waste my time sleeping? No, indeed! I sat on the
little platform all night to see all that I possibly could see. We passed through
……(mentioning the number) stations between Johannesburg and Tafelberg."
"You
don't mean to say you kept count of all the stations?" exclaimed Jim.
"Of
course I did! I am so glad to find that when I return I will leave here by an
early train so I will pass through the country during the day time, which I came
through at night."
"That is so," said Jim, "Oom Jan, what would you have
said, if during the Boer War, someone had told you that you would one day leave
the Transvaal to visit an Englishman and his wife?"
I would have told them
that they were stark, staring, raving mad," replied Oom Jan laughing, "I am sorry,"
he continued, "that the children are not here. I should have arranged my visit
during their school holiday, but of course I did not think of that. I am very
disappointed not to see them. You know I am hoping that one day your Marcus will
marry my Maria!"
Jim and Louie exchanged glances, but smiled at Oom Jan
as they did not wish hurt his feelings by showing how preposterous they thought
his proposal.
"This is the first time in my life I've been out of the Transvaal
or travelled so far by train. How glad I was when I reached Johannesburg Station
to find a porter who spoke Afrikaans. I felt utterly lost in all that confusion
of people and trains. However, this porter was most kind and helpful and put me
in my carriage. It was very hard for me to leave my baby boy, but I had a great
longing to see you two, your home, and the way you carry on sheep farming in the
Karroo."
"Tell us about your little boy," said Louie.
"He is nearly
three years old," said Oom Jan, greatly pleases to be on his favourite topic.
"He is very clever, much more old fashioned than any of my other children at that
age. He goes with me wherever I go; I carry him on my shoulder and he does love
it! Sannie says I spoil him, but I don't care. I can't see why he should not do
just as he likes, and no matter what he does, I could never bring myself to whip
him."
"But, Oom Jan, you cannot let him grow up too naughty and spoilt,"
remonstrated Louie, "you know what Solomon said, 'Spare the rod and spoil the
child.'"
"Oh! but Louie, it would simply break my heart to whip him, he
is such a darling, pretty little fellow."
"Does he look like any of your
other children?"
"Yes, he looks like Maria."
"How well I remember
what a pretty little thing she was when we first went to Riverside."
"Yes,
she is the flower of my flock, that is why I am going to keep her for Marcus."
Happy
days were spent by the three friends, walking through the gardens, driving over
the veld; Oom Jan was a most entertaining and enthusiastic visitor. He was tremendously
pleased when Jim took him on horseback, and he shot his first springbok.
"Louie,"
said Oom Jan, as they sat over the fire one evening, "I am very anxious to climb
the mountain. Have you ever climbed it?"
"No, when I was a child, I promised
my Father that I would not; he was so afraid of an accident - and then that climb
was not to be thought of during the four years I suffered from my back, since
then I have had no opportunity."
"Wouldn't you like to go up now?"
"Yes,
I would, very much indeed."
"That's good," said Oom Jan, 'because Jim is
quite willing to take me up, but I know he'll climb like a young springbok and
expect me to keep up with him. That, of course, would be impossible, so if you
will come with us you will be doing me a great favour because he will have to
go slow then, and I won't feel that it is only for my sake that he is doing so."
"I
think yours is a very good idea, Oom Jan," said Jim, "I've long wanted Louie to
climb the mountain and she will be so proud when she can say she has done it."
"What
is the height?" asked Oom Jan.
"Nearly 2,000 feet - 1,800 to be exact;
that is from the base to the summit. The top which is as flat as a table, is on
the same level as Johannesburg, 6,000 feet above sea level. Can we arrange this
climb for tomorrow?"
"Yes, certainly," said Louie, "Oom Jan hasn't many
days left so we should go as soon as possible."
"I do think it is absurd
for you to come all this way for one week! You simply must stay another week,"
said Jim.
"It is very kind of you and nothing would please me better; I
have so enjoyed being in an Englishman's house and very interested indeed in your
farming methods, so different from ours, but I told Sannie I would be home on
Saturday and she will send the cart to meet me; besides, much as I have enjoyed
my visit, I cannot stay away any longer from my little son. Oh my greatest blessing
and the joy of my old age. I live in terror of something happening to him."
"Dear
Oom Jan," said Louie soothingly, "you must not feel like that. I am sure he is
going to grow up a fine strong boy and be a great comfort and joy to you when
you are an old man."
"God grant that your words may be true!"
"There
is one thing Jim must promise us before I undertake to go up the mountain, and
that is that he won't stand on the edge of the cliffs."
"Oh! you old fussy
wuzzy," laughed Jim.
"Oom Jan," said Louie, "it is no laughing matter.
Do you know that on one occasion he was standing on the very edge of the mountain
and suddenly a feeling of insecurity made him step back; as he did so, the whole
side of the mountain on which he had been standing, went hurtling down, thousands
of tons of stones and earth! Had he been on that spot a second longer, he would
have been killed, nothing would have saved him."
"But here I am, perfectly
sound in mind and limb!"
"Oh! Jim you really are hopeless. Do tell Oom
Jan about the time when you shot the last tiger which was found in these parts."
"He'll
only scold me if I do," laughed Jim, "We set a trap for the tiger, which was killing
the lambs, not really a tiger, of course, but a South African leopard - the next
morning when a couple of men and I went to the spot near Beeste Hoek, there was
the animal caught by the foot, the dogs were barking at him, making him furious.
There was a good deal of bush in my way so I decided to skirt round and get on
to a ledge or rock facing the tiger. I climbed up, unfortunately the ledge was
very narrow, and I was so placed that it was impossible for me to get away, the
rock at my back being far too high for me to climb over, should I wish to do so.
I had my gun ready when what was my astonishment to see that the tiger was free
of the trap and coming at me! I was standing about six feet above the ground and
four feet away from the tiger. As he reared up to strike me I shot him. Down he
fell - dead as a doornail!"
"Oom Jan, don't you think it was a terrible
risk to take, to climb on to that narrow little ledge? But what makes me jealous
is to think that Jim had one of the claws set in gold as a brooch and gave it
to a lady friend of his!"
"Well, but this was long before we were engaged
and The Little Dane was so unapproachable, so occupied with her teaching, I did
not think I stood the ghost of a chance."
"Oh! Jim you dreadful old tease."
The
next morning the mountaineers made an early start, but unfortunately they had
not climbed half way when Jim's quick ear caught an unusual sound. "Stop!" he
said, "and listen; it sounds as if someone is shouting to us."
Louie and
Oom Jan took the opportunity of finding a convenient stone on which to sit and
rest. Jim mounted a boulder and adjusted his field glasses.
"I see a man.
He is running as if for dear life, waving his arms in our direction and shouting.
You two wait here and I'll go down. When I am able to hear what his trouble is
I'll shout to you."
They watched Jim as he leaped from stone to stone in
his precipitous flight down the mountainside.
"How like a springbok," said
Oom Jan, "rather different from the pace at which he came up. I am glad that you
were here to keep him from climbing too fast, and so prevent him being impatient
with me."
When Jim was within shouting distance of the native, he called
to him asking what was the trouble.
"Listen," said Louie, "Jim is going
to tell us what the native says."
"He says," came Jim's voice in full,
clear tones, "the baas is dead!" and away he went, leaping from boulder
to boulder and in no time was out of sight.
"Dear me," said Oom Jan wiping
his brow, "I thought that man was carrying bad news about my little son."
"Poor
Oom Jan, I am glad you have not had bad news - but if our partner is dead it is
very serious news for us, so we must return at once." So saying Louie turned and
began the descent. It was very rough and difficult, far more difficult than it
had been to climb up. Oom Jan was most kind and helpful. He was a big man, nearly
six feet in height, and weighing about two hundred pounds. He had black hair,
a moustache, and short little black beard turning grey, and very kind brown eyes.
Louie
and Oom Jan had reached the garden when they met Jim coming to tell them what
had happened.
"The silly nigger," he said, "lost his head, gave me an awful
fright, as I know you must have had too - one of the men, a white man in charge
of the thrashing machine had a fit - 'and he's not dead at all, said Jack Robinson'
- I wish I could say this to you in Afrikaans, Oom Jan, but I can't; however,
I'll try to explain it - Jack Robinson knocked at the door of his home after years
of absence when his wife, who opened the door, and who had married during his
long absence, said 'somebody told me that somebody said that somebody else had
somewhere read in some newspaper that you were dead!' 'I'm not dead at
all,' said Jack Robinson."
Oom Jan had a ready wit and was much amused
at the dilemma in which 'Jack Robinson's' wife found herself.
"It is no
use trying to climb the mountain now," said Louie, "Let us go home and have tea
and spend the rest of the afternoon chatting. Oom Jan must tell us some of his
experiences."
"On one occasion when my wife and I were camping in the Bushveld,"
said Oom Jan as they sat over the tea cups, "I was mending a harness and she was
busy making bread. I was dressed in trousers and shirt. I felt a queer sensation
on my back; calling to her I asked her to see what it was. She came and looked
and said 'It was all imagination on your part; there is nothing to be seen.' After
a while I felt it again. 'I am sure there is a spider on my back, I feel something
crawling.' Impatiently she left her work. She looked down on my back. 'Oh God!'
she exclaimed in a dreadful tone of horror and alarm. It was enough for me; I
seized hold of my shirt in the middle of my back, and with one wrench I tore it
off and flung it from me; there I was with only the wristbands round my wrists.
Imagine my surprise to find my wife laughing until the tears were streaming down
her face; it had been a joke - she was only teasing me."
"She had the worst
of the joke," said Louie, laughing, "as she had to mend your shirt."
"Didn't
you have a quarrel with a Jew about some sheep?" asked Jim, "Louie your tea is
so good - I'll have another cup please."
"Yes, I did and the result of
that quarrel I'll carry to my dying day. Look at my finger."
He showed
them the middle finger of his left hand; evidently the first joint had been broken,
as he was unable to straighten it.
"What happened?" asked Jim.
"I
took a hundred sheep to Witbank for sale. I bargained with a Jew and eventually
sold them to him at ten shillings a head. They were driven into his kraal and
we walked down to his shop to conclude the business by his giving me his cheque.
He started arguing, saying he had bought the sheep at eight and sixpence per head.
After a heated argument, in which neither of us would give in, he defied me to
take my sheep out of his kraal. I felled him with one blow of my left hand and
as I am left-handed, he was quite unprepared for my attack, especially as I was
carrying a sjambok in my right hand. He went down like an ox. I left him lying
unconscious on the floor of his shop, returned to the kraal and took possession
of my sheep. What I did to damage my finger like this I don't know; but it is
the result of the blow I gave the Jew. What I should like to do more than anything
in the world is to come again and bring Sannie with me," remarked Oom Jan.
"Yes,
do," said Louie, "and you must bring your little son too."
Poor Oom Jan!
Six months after his return home, Louie and Jim received a most pathetic letter
form him, telling them of the loss of the little chap he so much loved; he had
died from croup.
Louie and Jim had a constant
succession of callers as the neighbourhood was most friendly and sociable. People
came for miles thought there were no cars in those days; at any rate not in that
neighbourhood.
As they stood one afternoon and watched a cart load of visitors
drive off, Louie turned to Jim and said, "Do you know that darling baby boy has
some skin trouble. I am most terribly heartsore about it. I simply can't bear
to think of it. During the afternoon the irritation became so unbearable that
his Mother undid his clothes and smeared salve all over him, and he kept saying
'B'ow on it Mommie, b'ow on it.'"
"Poor little chap," said Jim, "are they
doing anything about it?"
"Oh yes, they have seen several doctors, but
they don't seem to be able to cure him, poor little fellow. I simply could not
bear it if it were my baby."
For the rest of that afternoon and evening
that little child and his trouble were never out of Louie's thoughts; she lifted
up her soul in the most earnest and heartfelt prayer, that something might be
done for the child.
The next morning as Louie and Jim sat down to breakfast,
Jim said, "I have had the most peculiar experience during the night, a dream,
but it wasn't a dream, it was a vision. In this vision I went to a man whom I
know to be a clever specialist; I can see him now as he sat, his elbows resting
on the arms of his chair, the tips of this long, think white fingers pressed together.
He had a thin, white, clever face, piercing blue eyes and large intellectual head.
I described the child's trouble to him exactly as you told it to me; after a thoughtful
pause he said, 'one of three things must happen - the child will die, go mad,
or be cured, and surely it is best to cure him. This can be done by removing all
his clothes and allowing him to play, naked, out of doors. The sun and the air
will cure his trouble. His clothing must be left off gradually until at length
he is in only one garment, and eventually this must be left of!'"
"What
an extraordinary dream," said Louie with a feeling of jealousy, wishing she had
had the dream, as she was the one who had prayed so earnestly for the child.
"It
was most extraordinary," agreed Jim, "it was all so vivid - a vision - and so
convincing that I am most anxious to tell the child's parents. I feel like driving
over to their farm at once."
"I don't think we need do that, as we will
meet the child's father on the train when we go up to Bloemfontein tomorrow night,
and you'll have plenty of time then to tell him all about it."
"So I shall.
I am glad you remembered that. I know that this treatment is going to cure him,
and am most anxious for it to be tried as soon as possible."
As Louie,
Jim and their friend were walking up to the Show Ground in Bloemfontein, the morning
after their arrival in that town, Jim said: "Have you sent your wife a wire telling
her to leave off the little chap's clothes?"
"No, no. Oh, no, no! I will
wait until; I get home and explain it all to her, and of course we must consult
our doctor before we do anything like that!"
Jim's enthusiasm received
a sharp check. But he never ceased to argue, and to persuade the parents of the
child at every opportunity which chance gave him, to try his open air cure. In
1918 people did not know so much about open air treatment, in South Africa at
any rate, as they do now. Eighteen months elapsed before Jim's remedy was tried
and during that time how thankful Louie was that he had had the vision and not
she, as she would never have had the courage to argue as he did, nor could she
have been so convincing.
"Come and show yourself to Dr Rous," said the
child's mother six months after he had been wearing only one garment, as she led
the little fellow, who was as brown as a berry, up to Jim. "He loves this garment,
which he calls his 'clo!' and hates his clothes, so he is never properly dressed
except when he goes to town."
"You should not dress him even then," said
Jim, patting the little fellow's back, "it is splendid to see him so well and
strong and brown."
One day while Jim was
still busy with the shearing, he managed to leave the shed during the morning,
and walk up to the house and have tea with Louie.
"It is such a lovely
day, I think I'll walk back with you to the shed and then I must come and prepare
the Sunday dinner. We are going to have quite a crowd tomorrow. I am having the
scrappiest dinner for you and me today."
"If that is so," said Jim, never
missing an opportunity of teasing, "I hope we don't have any visitors."
"Oh!
no, Jim, don't suggest such a thing - it is Saturday and already nearly twelve
o'clock - I am going home to stuff the leg of venison for tomorrow."
"Louie
returned to the house - she had everything prepared and was just about to stuff
the leg of venison when the 'phone rang. "Yes, hullo! Tafelberg here, who's speaking?"
"This
is the station master here," came the answer over the 'phone. "Your friends, four
in number, are on their way up to you for lunch; they are in a car."
Louie
banged down the receiver, flung off her apron, which she did not find for days
- and ran - ran down the hill to the shed where Jim was working. "Oh Jim!" she
exclaimed breathlessly, 'four grown-ups for dinner! What ever shall I do? They
are coming by car and have already left the station! What can I do?"
"My
dear, calm yourself; there is only one thing to do; go back as fast as you can,
stuff the leg, and put it in the oven, we must have it for dinner. Give them coffee
and rusks as soon as they arrive, that will help to pass the time and keep them
from being too hungry - we can't have dinner before two o'clock. I'll come as
soon as ever I can," Jim called after poor Louie as she dashed back to the kitchen,
where she worked at lightning speed.
The venison was in the oven as well
as some pastry when the car drew up at the front door. This episode was one of
the greatest dilemmas Louie ever experienced in her housekeeping; and it was only
a for a few minutes that she was in a perfect 'doodar' as her friend would say.
Dinner was served at two o'clock and everybody thoroughly enjoyed the repast,
and the visitors never knew what and anxious few minutes the little housekeeper
had experienced.
"It reminds me," said Louie, as she and Jim sat over the
fire in the evening, talking of the day's experience, "of an aunt of mine. Her
husband had been given a message, which was that her brother, his wife, child
and nurse and their two visitors were coming to dinner! The husband forgot to
deliver the message and what was Auntie's consternation to see a carriage full
of people arrive just about twelve o'clock!"
"Whatever did she do?"
"She
was the most resourceful person I've ever heard of! You'll never guess what she
did! Of course on a farm we are at such a disadvantage. We can't ring up the butcher
and order a few pounds of sausages or chops - we just have to manage. Well - Auntie
saw her guests comfortably settled, then dashing into the yard with a couple of
servants, she caught three fowls, poured a tablespoon of vinegar down each of
their throats (she says this has the effect of making them tender) wrung their
necks, plucked them and had them in the oven before you could say 'Jack Robinson".
As her visitors were late people, she knew it would be nothing unusual for them
to have dinner at three o'clock, and in the meantime she did as we did, served
coffee and rusks."
"Were the fowls eatable?"
"Indeed they were!
Most delicious! As tender as could be and everybody thoroughly enjoyed their dinner,
not guessing for one moment that she had been taken by surprise, so you can imagine
how well everything passed off. Poor, dear old Auntie! An amusing incident in
her home was told me by another of my aunts:
"They had a governess called
Miss Truby, teaching the little boys, the youngest used to say grace. After the
meal his aunt called Ivan to her, he was five years old, and asked him to repeat
the grace very slowly. He said, 'Please God, make Miss Truby thankful for what
we are about to receive,' instead of 'us truly'. For months he had been saying
'Miss Truby'! Wasn't that funny?"
Not only did Louie and Jim have the pleasure
of their friends visiting them, they also had many of their relations. An Aunt
of Jim's, his sister Winnie, Louie's mother, her brothers Jack, Christian, Claude
and their families; also Edith and her family were welcome visitors at Tafelberg
Hall and it gave Louie the greatest pleasure to entertain them.
"I believe
you were farming for some years in Bechuanaland, Jack. How did you like it?" asked
Jim, on the occasion when Jack spent a few days with them.
"I was very
interested but, unfortunately I did not have my own farm. I was working for a
man in Johannesburg who knew nothing about farming. On one occasion there was
a great boom in artichokes; he sent me bags and bags, with orders to plant. I
wrote him saying it was impossible to undertake the planting as the sheep were
lambing. He sent me a wire, 'stop lambing, plant artichokes'!!"
"Oh! dear,"
said Jim, between peals of laughter, in which everyone joined, "It is hopeless
having to work for people who do not understand the position! I expect you are
glad you are out of it."
"Yes, indeed."
In 1918 Louie and Jim were much alarmed on hearing graphic stories of tragic and sudden deaths throughout the country, and immediately wired the Secretary of the Cradock School Board to send their children home at once. This action was justified as in a few weeks the schools were closed, and the Influenza Epidemic raged throughout the country. For the five following months Louie's schoolroom was again occupied and her responsibilities with regard to teaching, which she hoped she had finally relinquished when the children went to boarding school, were attacked with vigour and energy, as she was determined that they should not fail to pass their various standards. Her labour and ambition were fully justified.
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CHAPTER
VIII
STRADBROKE
During
the following year it was agreed by Jim and his partner to
dissolve the partnership and divide the farm.
"The only way to make a
perfectly fair division, " said Jim, "is to follow the President Kruger's method.
When two brothers came to him with the property their father had left them, and
which they were determined to divide as they could not agree, he said:' one of
you must divide the land, and the other one must choose.'"
President Kruger's
method was followed. Jim divided the farm and the partner chose. It fell to the
lot of Jim and Louie to make their home at the Little Fountain; they changed the
name to Stradbroke, as Jim wished to perpetuate a connecting link with the home
of his ancestors in England.
The three boys were taken from the Cradock
School and sent to Cape Town to the South African College. Marjory was sent to
the Collegiate School in Port Elizabeth.
"It is nice to think, " said Louie,
"that though the children are much further from us, you agree that we must have
them home for all the holiday, which means to see them four times a year. I think
it is so essential to keep in touch with them during their growing years - our
influence must count for so much in their lives."
"This is where I want
the tennis court," said Jim, as he and Louie strolled about the bare and barren
ground which surrounded their house at Stradbroke - one row of mimosa thorn trees
running along the valley, not far from the house, was all they had in the shape
of trees, and very thankful they were to have those beautiful natural trees.
"I
am giving you a man who will be entirely at your service; you will be able to
plant trees, make paths and lay out garden beds to your heart's content."
"That
will be nice. I am glad that there are no remains of an old garden. That I have
all this space in which to do just as I like. I have such schemes for laying it
all out, and am longing to begin. I do hope I shall be a successful gardener!
I really know nothing about the subject; hitherto I have felt that the growing
of our children occupied all my time, and I had none to spare for other flowers."
Louie
became a very enthusiastic gardener, and found great pleasure in the laying out
of the grounds. On several occasions she was much moved by receiving high praise
for her flowers. The regrets that she had felt at giving up her Grandmother's
gardens were completely banished in the joy of her new home.
The house,
a stone building, was large and roomy, with a wide verandah on three sides, below
the verandah was a terrace, on which grew masses of geraniums, verbena, heliotropes
and carnation, making a lovely splash of colour. Not far from the house stood
the little building where Louie and her companions took refuge when chased by
the bull in those far-off school days.
On the South side of the house,
at a little distance, was a narrow building in which were Jim's office and a bedroom
for each of the three boys, with a bathroom. Running along the whole length of
this building, at the back, lay the garage.
"This is very interesting,
" said Jim as he sat down beside Louie where she lay in a lounge chair on the
verandah, "I have a letter from Mr John Millais, he tells me that his friend the
Maharajah of Kuch is in England. It appears that this Indian Prince is anxious
to introduce our springboks to his country; he wants them on this own Estate and
though he has tried for the last two years to get them from South Africa, he has
not been successful. Millais has given him my name and address, telling him to
write to me, and saying that if it can be done, it will be done if I undertake
to do the job, some praise, isn't it? He wants twenty tame springboks, rather
a tall order."
"Twenty tame springboks!" exclaimed Louie, "Where in the
world are you going to get hold of twenty tame springboks?"
"I am sure
I don't know, but I think there must be lots of farmers who will have one, or
perhaps two tame ones about their homesteads, they do make such pretty little
pets!"
"Yes, I remember the two Marcus caught when we first came to Tafelberg.
What a pity the children have not a few now!"
"I'll put an advertisement
in the 'Farmers Weekly,' offering £5 a time. I hope I'll be able to collect twenty.
I'll assemble them here."
"It will mean a lot of work for you, and how
will you send them off?"
"In crates. I'll have four crates made and put
five buck into each one."
"I do hope you'll be successful, and that the
Maharajah will receive the twenty buck safely. What a glorious afternoon it is
! Just good to be alive; that is why I am so idle! Just sitting and enjoying this
beautiful view and our garden. It is coming on apace, isn't it?"
"Yes,
indeed, we are well rewarded for our efforts."
A week later Jim received
a telegram from the manager of the Koffiefontein Mine in the Orange Free State.
"This is splendid," he said, reading it aloud to Louie, " 'we can supply twenty
tame springbok' - isn't that good news? I shall have to cancel the offers I have
had. It will be so much easier to have them all on one spot, and be able to send
them off from there. I wonder how they come to have so many tame springbok! I'll
go up to Koffiefontein, see them, and arrange about crates and shipment."
When
Jim arrived at Koffiefontein a few weeks later, he was much interested to find
that one of the men on the mine was devoted to animals, that he had caught a couple
of young buck ten years previously and these had increased, and from time to time
others had been caught and placed in the enclosure.
"Now we have about
forty and have been very much worried because this camp is too small to hold so
many. We would not bring ourselves to kill them, and when we saw your advertisement
we were pleased to find such a nice way out of our difficulties. We will make
the crates and carry out your instructions about shipping them."
"They
are wonderfully tame," said Jim, as he watched a beautiful little buck eat out
of the gentleman's hand, and even his pocket, "They are not at all disturbed by
our being in their midst like this. I did not think it was possible for buck to
become so tame! And I don't think anything could have been more fortunate for
the Maharajah's enterprise; this is a wonderful opportunity of filling his order!"
Four
crates were made and five buck put into each, but unfortunately, before the train
reached Durban five of the buck had killed themselves in their efforts to regain
their freedom; two died on the boat, one was born. At Bombay the Maharajah himself
met the boat, fourteen springbok were landed and placed in the Botanical Gardens
where they were allowed to rest a few days before continuing their journey to
Kuch. Several more buck were born and the Maharajah was much pleased with his
undertaking.
A few months later Jim received the most enthusiastic letter
of thanks from the Maharajah in which he said he was sending a small present hoping
in some way to show his appreciation of what Jim had done. "This is a silver tea
service" read Jim, "made by my own people from the silver produced from my mines."
"Jim,"
said Louie in great excitement as they unpacked the parcel, holding up the teapot,
"just look at this! Could you ever imagine anything more beautiful? I love this
white silver! And this darling wee elephant which makes the handle to the lid.
I would like to take it off and wear it as a pendant! Look, the handle is a huge
lizard."
"Yes," said Jim, "and there is an ivory ring at each end to act
as an insulator, no need to worry about a holder for fear of burning your hand.
On each side of the teapot is a different hunting scene, the spout in his trunk,
look at his enormous ears."
"What a beautiful sugar basin and milk jug,
" said Louie glowing with enthusiasm, "also with hunting scenes, and see the milk
will flow out of the elephant's mouth this time, instead of his trunk as the tea
does. It is truly a Royal gift. You must write him a most enthusiastic letter,
Jim, and try to give him some idea of how much we appreciate his magnificent present."
Unfortunately,
the following year, when His Highness was away from home, a large hayrick caught
fire in the vicinity of the enclosure where the buck lives, and instead of those
in charge opening the gate to release the poor little animals, they neglected
to do so, with the result that they were all burned to death.
"Jim,
I would like to send Marjory a wire, she begins writing her examinations tomorrow."
"Yes,
do."
"I have been trying to think of something appropriate to say, please make
a suggestion!"
Jim had plenty of suggestions which were all turned down by
Louie, as she did not consider they met the case; some were too flippant, others
too serious.
"I know, I have it! Listen: 'courage, dear heart, and success
is yours.'"
"Very nice indeed. Shall I send if off for you?" asked Jim.
"Please
do."
A few days later Louie, with an open letter in her hand, set out to
look for Jim and found him in the garden, pruning trees.
"Do come off your
perch," she said, "come and sit on this branch beside me while I read Marjory's
letter to you, it is so amusing. She says 'Thank you very much for the telegram,
which I wore in my shoe all though the examination, because 'if my heart went
down to my boots' it would read the message and return to its proper place!'"
"Funny
little girl, " said Jim, "I do hope she is successful!"
"Poor children,
I do wish there were no such things as examinations. How well I remember how I
suffered when I wrote an examination!"
Weeks, months, years rolled
on. The two elder children had passed on to the universities. Jim and Louie's
lives were very calm and happy and the joy and pride of their home a mutual interest.
Their evening reading had been resumed and their pleasure in their children's
successes, as Louie said 'filled their cup of happiness to overflowing.'
To
Jim life was very full; to have another opportunity of planting trees and so changing
the whole face of the landscape, gave him the greatest satisfaction. He would
say "If a man has made one person happy, and been able to plant trees, he has
not lived in vain."
To Louie the children seemed to be growing up as fast
as the trees. Many happy holidays were spent, in which bathing, tennis and riding
filled the time, making it pass all too quickly.
On one occasion the household,
for a fortnight, numbered nineteen. Men and girls from the South African University
- Marcus' friends, and men and girls from Rhodes University - Marjory's friends,
made up the happy party. Louie felt it to be one of the most enjoyable and interesting
holidays she had ever spent. She much appreciated the kind thought of her young
guests in sending her an album containing snaps taken during the holiday, each
snap described by a witty or amusing remark.
"Louie," said Jim, when he
found her in the garden picking a basket of flowers, "I have just heard that I
am to attend the 'Farmers Congress' in Port Elizabeth - You know I was secundus,
the principal cannot go, so of course, I must. It is a pity it has been left so
late, I doubt whether I shall get accommodation. I have wired the proprietor of
the Grand Hotel booking a room. I suppose I'll be stuck in some little dark hole
at the back of the building, in which there won't be room to 'swing a cat!'"
"What
a shame!" said Louie, "I should like to have gone with you but would not think
of running the risk of being so uncomfortable."
"That's exactly how I feel
about it!"
"Oh, well! We won't worry ; you must go alone and I'll stay
at home and do such a lot of work in the garden. Look at my beautiful basket of
flowers. Do you know the story of the pansy, and why the Germans call it 'Stiefmütterchen'(Little
Stepmother)?"
"No, I didn't know there was story - tell me." said Jim,
who was always much interested in nature.
"It is quite an interesting
story which I only heard yesterday from a visitor. Unfortunately, I have to pick
the little flower to pieces as I tell it," said Louie, as she selected a fine
specimen from her basket of flowers:
"This petal here is the mother," removing
the large petal in front, "see how gaudily she is dressed; these smaller petals
on each side of her are her two daughters; they are also dressed in highly decorated
frocks, now we come to the two petals at the back - they are the two step children,
and so are always in the plainest of clothes. Here we have the old father - Can
you see the old man sitting with his feet in a tub? He is evidently having a footbath
- he has a lace collar, very fine and beautiful. I have great difficulty in seeing
the old man, but my friend said it was as plain as the nose on your face."
"How
very amusing and interesting. I never realised before that in every case the two
petals at the back are always plain."
"Poor stepmothers! They do have a
bad time! Isn't the garden pretty? Look at all these Shirley poppies and the rose
garden is a beautiful sight and repaying us for trenching the ground. Let us walk
round and enjoy the labours of our hands. I am so glad I persuaded you, so much
against your will too, to plant those orange trees!"
"Yes," said Jim, "I
am glad I was not obstinate enough to hold out against your wishes; they are in
such an excellent spot - so well sheltered: they are going to be a great success
and pleasure, especially to you who love oranges even if they are sour!"
The
morning after Jim's arrival in Port Elizabeth, as he entered the dining room of
the hotel, he saw a friend and immediately made for his table. This friend was
a man who was extremely fond of practical jokes and did not mind what trouble
he took, and never spared himself to carry out a joke, so Jim's nickname for his
was 'Joker'.
"Imagine my surprise," said Jim, as he sat down beside him and
proceeded to unfold his napkin, "on my arrival last night to be shown into a large
double room. Had I known I was going to occupy such comfortable quarters, I certainly
would have brought my wife with me; we were afraid there would be no accommodation."
"By
Jove, you are in luck," said Joker, "I have a poky little single room at the back
of the building."
As the Congress was most important, they men were kept
very busy, only escaping for meals and getting back to the hotel late at night.
One night, Jim, leaving a group of his friends on the stoep, went to his room
which was situated a few paces down a passage leading off the stoep. He opened
his bedroom door switched on the light. His horror and dismay at the sight which
met his gaze almost caused him to shout aloud. A woman in his bed! He quickly
switched off the light, closed the door, and strode up and down the passage, much
agitated and annoyed.
After a few minutes he came to the conclusion that
he had been moved to another room and that the proprietor had forgotten to inform
him of the fact- "or have I mistaken the number of my room. No, it is number 30
alright. They must have moved me, I'll just have a look and make sure." Opening
the door and turning on the light he had a good look at the room. - "There stands
my suitcase, those are my pyjamas hanging over the back of that chair, all amongst
her beautiful silk lingerie. - Those are my humble hair brushes amongst her aids
to beauty - she must have had too many cocktails and mistaken this room for hers.
I'll go and get the Proprietor to come and turn her out."
He glanced at
the bed, a large woman, he back turned towards him, long red curly hair streaming
over the pillow, escaping from a most elaborate boudoir cap. An open book lay
on the pillow, she had evidently been reading.
Again Jim switched off the
light, and closing the door, he made his way to the Office. Here he found a young
boy, the proprietor's son. He told the youth of his dilemma. "I can't do anything,
I assure you Mr. Rous; and my parents have gone to bed."
"Go and fetch
them out, they must come and attend to this woman."
"That is impossible,
they both have very bad colds. I could not possibly disturb them."
Jim
returned to the stoep, and glad he was to find that the party had not retired.
He called to he friend, Joker, and taking him aside said, "Man, there's a woman
in my bed."
"What's this? What's this?" asked one of the men of their party
as he joined Jim.
"There's a woman in my bed," repeated Jim.
"Well,
what are you grumbling about? I'm sixty and such a thing has never happened to
me."
"Oh! stop it man," exclaimed Jim impatiently, feeling his temper decidedly
irritated, "I'm a respectable married man and don't want any of your nonsense."
Roars
of laughter from the men.
Jim crossed to where the ladies were sitting.
"I appeal to you ladies. There is a woman in my bed and there is no one who can
help me but you. Please go in and wake her, she must have got into the wrong room."
"Certainly
we'll help you," and the ladies rose with alacrity.
Jim led the way, opening
the door, switching on the light and standing outside while the ladies passed
in, followed by their husbands and Joker. Jim remained in the passage. The minutes
passed and the noise which he expected to hear from the woman being awakened did
not reach him, so he also walked in. Great was his surprise to see the party walking
round and round the bed examining the occupant from every angle, and giving way
to exclamations of admiration and surprise. "It is indeed a work of art," exclaimed
one of the ladies.
In a flash Jim realised that a practical joke had been
played on him, and that the figure in the bed was nothing but a dummy!
"If
I had not been in your company all day, Joker, I would have suspected you of being
at the bottom of this joke!"
"Of course, I've been with you the whole day,
"said Joker with the most innocent expression in the world.
Amidst much
laughter and joking, and Jim's puzzled question of "I wonder who could have played
this joke on me!" the dummy was removed and Jim's room cleared of all the exquisite
and elaborate articles of a woman's toilet.
The next morning as the friends
sat at breakfast and Jim was still puzzling as to the originator of the joke,
his friend said, "Jim, I could not resist playing that trick on you. Your being
so pleased with your double room put the idea into my head, and when I passed
the barber's shop and saw that gorgeous wig of red curly hair, the whole plan
flashed into my mind!"
"It was jolly well done, " said Jim, in tones of
admiration and laughing heartily. "I was completely taken in - never doubting
for one moment that some woman had had too many cocktails and had got into my
room by mistake."
"Jim," said Louie, coming into the lounge one day after
his return home and where he sat reading his paper, I've just heard such a sweet
story about those darling little girls, Peggy and Joan.
"Come and sit here
and tell it to me," said Jim, flinging his paper on to the floor.
"Why
will men always throw their papers on to the floor?"
"The floor's such
a nice convenient place," said Jim laughing, "tell me your story."
"Peggy,
as you know is five years old and has straight hair. Well, the other day Peggy
said to her Mother 'Please curl my hair so as to make it pretty like Joan's.'
'No darling,' said her Mother, your straight hair suits your face, and Joan's
curls suit her face.' A few days later the two girls were watching their aunt
who was washing her hair. She had heard of Peggy's ambition with regard to her
hair, so thought she would take the opportunity of bringing home the lesson and
said 'You see I have straight hair like Peggy's because it suits my face.'
"'Yes,
Auntie,' said Peggy, 'You know God knows what kind of hair suits us best, that's
why He gave me, and you, straight hair, and Joan curly hair.' Then Joan said looking
up with her lovely big blue eyes and face of a little angel, 'Yes Auntie, and
He knows how nice Grandpa looks without any hair at all, so he lets the wind blow
it all away.'
"Wasn't that perfectly sweet?" asked Louie, much moved by
the pretty story.
"It was indeed," said Jim, "fancy a little thing of three
finding a reason for Grandpa's baldness!"
Jim set off early one cold winter
morning to join in a hunt for a jackal which had been killing some of the Stradbroke
sheep, and which was suspected of having taken cover in the range of mountains
running along the southern boundary of the farm. The farmers in the neighbourhood
had come together to help Jim to destroy this most destructive of wild animals.
The men with their guns were stationed at various points of vantage on the range
of mountains. A number of natives were divided into two sections, and each section
given half the mountain as their beat. They had to yell and shout and bang on
empty tins and make 'the devil's own row' Jim told them, to try an frighten the
jackal from his place of hiding.
Jim had been given an ideal spot. Here
he lay in the warm winter sunshine amongst bushes and scattered rocks on the mountainside.
He was dressed in khaki so it was impossible for any one to detect his presence.
After several hours' patient waiting he was rewarded by the arrival of a troop
of baboons and watched their human antics with keen interest. A female baboon
with a young one in her arms was walking about and saying in her language, "Look
at my pretty baby! Look at my fine baby!" A group gathered round her, evidently
admiring her offspring as there was much chattering, but presently a mischievous
young male pinched the little one! Up went the Mother's hand and she gave him
a sound box on the ear! He went off howling and she with all the actions of a
human mother proceeded to comfort her baby.
Presently a conceited young
male came walking along in all the pride of his young manhood, showing off what
a fine fellow he was, and evidently saying, "Look at me, you chaps, just you watch
how I walk and how I am going to climb that fence!" With one bound he was over,
and from the other side turned round waiting for the applause he thought his action
merited. His companions took no notice of him; however, an old male thought it
worth while to try and take the youngster down a peg or two, so with the greatest
deliberation in the world he walked saying "Who cares what you do - this is how
I climb a fence, "and with the same deliberate actions he climbed up the one side
and down the other!
After a while a very big old male sat down close to
Jim, not six feet away. He was very busy lifting stones and eating insects. Presently
he sat back and began scratching himself and looking for fleas. Jim said in a
deep voice, "Try a little Keatings old chap."
The old fellow lifted his head
and looked right into Jim's eyes. He gave the most awful yell which sounded to
Jim for all the world like, "Oh, Got ! the enemy, my children run for your lives!
The enemy is on us." Yelling and shouting he bounded over the fence and in a few
moments had had a good look round and finding everything serene, no enemy in sight,
resumed their various occupations; some gambolling about, others looking for insects,
but all saying "Oh! he's just a silly old fool. Don't take any notice of him.
He's balmy. "
Jim felt it was too bad to have the old baboon so misjudged
and he determined to give the 'Know alls' a severe lesson for daring to criticise
their wise, old man. He leaped up, yelling and shouting, waving his arms frantically,
and had the satisfaction of feeling his punishment had been most effective, for
with screams of terror the whole troop rushed headlong down the mountain side
(not stopping to climb the fence) and disappeared in the distance.
Jim
thoroughly enjoyed the day and would not have missed his encounter with the baboons
for anything - even though the jackal was not seen.
On reaching home he
sat over the fire and gave Louie a most graphic description of his experiences.
"How
the children will enjoy hearing this most amusing story," said Louie, "I remember
how interested they were in watching the baboons in the Johannesburg Zoo."
"I
thought of your encounter with that big old male baboon, when we first came to
Tafelberg," said Jim.
"Yes, that was horrid - I was terrified."
"It was clever of you," said Jim, " to pretend your stick was a gun and frighten
him off like that. They can become very dangerous when they have been thrown out
of the pack, as evidently this one had been. Luckily we managed to kill him the
next day; he was getting too cheeky coming down to the homestead like that. How
excited the children were and so proud of their dogs helping to kill the monster."
"Leslie
used to treasure the skin and a couple of his enormous teeth, " said Louie.
"Flossie,
I have just received a letter from Jim, "said Louie the day after her arrival
in Maritzburg, where she was visiting her aunt, with whom she had meant to spend
a month. "Let us sit down on this couch, I want to read you what he says, 'The
Governor General and Princess Alice are going to be at Schoombie in the White
Train, Mrs. Southey is arranging a springbok hunt. On Thursday afternoon they
will be in Middelburg, where a tea will be given in their honour and everybody
will have the opportunity of shaking hands with them. The day following, Good
Friday April 18th, there will be a service in our little church at Tafelberg Station,
at which they will be present. As soon as I heard this Programme I jumped into
my car and went over to see Mr Southey and suggested to him that instead of the
Royal Visitors going all the way back to Schoombie, thirty-six miles, in the heat
of the day, they should come to us, to Stradbroke to luncheon. He thinks it is
an excellent idea and is writing to the Secretary of The Earl of Athlone informing
him of this suggestion. As soon as I have a reply I will let you know; knowing
you as I do, I feel sure you will return immediately did you think there was a
chance of entertaining Royalty!'"
"Oh! Louie, you can't possibly think
of going home, you've only just arrived," said Flossie in distress, "and you promised
to stay a month. I have so been looking forward to your visit."
"But Flossie,
I can always come to Natal, whereas it is only once in a lifetime that I have
the opportunity of having Princess Alice in my house!"
"I can't bear to
have you go; I do hope the Secretary says they can't go to lunch with you!"
Two
days later Louie received a letter from Jim in which he said "Mr Southey has wired
me to the effect that nothing can be done about the Royal visit until after their
arrival at Schoombie; as this will leave you no time for your preparations to
receive them, we will give up the idea, so don't spoil your holiday."
"Oh,
I am so glad, "exclaimed Flossie, joyously, "Now you won't go."
"It is
sweet of you to want to keep me, but I am determined to go. I will leave tomorrow
night. Even if there is only one chance in a hundred of their coming, I would
not miss it. I shall reach home on Tuesday morning, which will give me three days
for my preparations."
"But how can you think of making preparations when
everything is so uncertain, and you might have all your trouble for nothing."
"That
does not worry me at all. Even if my labours are wasted I would feel honoured
to have made preparations for a Princess!"
"You are a little loyalist,"
said Flossie, "For that reason I suppose it is a waste of breath trying to persuade
you to stay."
On Tuesday morning, as Jim helped Louie out of the train
at Tafelberg Station, he said, "Until yesterday afternoon when I received your
wire, I had no idea you were coming. I sent you a wire yesterday morning telling
you not to come as it all seems so difficult to arrange, but of course you had
left the night before - I am glad you left before receiving my wire."
"Flossie
tried to keep me - but Jim, it is not to be thought of, even your wire would not
have stopped me from coming; this is a chance of a lifetime and I am simply thrilled
at the thought that we might have the Royal Visitors with us on Friday. Of course
we will go to Middelburg on Thursday to the tea. I will take a large bunch of
my beautiful carnations to Princess Alice."
Thursday came. Louie said as
she settled herself in the car, "Everything is ready. I have told the servants
that if they hear the hooter as we are returning home this afternoon, they must
know that it means that the 'King' and 'Queen' are coming to dinner with us tomorrow."
"That was a good idea, "said Jim laughing, "because 'King' and 'Queen'
are the only words that would convey the unusual and important situation to their
minds."
The Industrial Hall at the Show Ground in Middelburg was most tastefully
decorated, and the whole floor space covered with dainty tea tables, on which
glistened exquisite silver and valuable old china. After the tea, the Royal Party
stood on a platform outside the building and shook hands with the inhabitants
of Middelburg. Louie presented her bunch of carnations which was much admired
by the Princess; and this opportunity was taken to ask about the luncheon the
next day. As soon as Princess Alice heard what was being discussed, she said "Oh!
I would love it. But please let it be very quiet."
The little church of
St Laurence at Tafelberg Station was crowded on Good Friday morning. After the
service the Royal Party stood outside. Introductions were made, and they chatted
and shook hands with everyone in the most friendly way, winning the heart of every
member of that community.
As Princess Alice alighted from the motor car
when it drew up at Stradbroke, she exclaimed excitedly, "Cherry pie, Cherry pie!"
and both she and the Earl buried their faces in the fragrant blossoms, and each
wore a few sprigs of heliotrope which were fastened to Princess Alice's frock
and the Earl's buttonhole. Glancing round the Princess said, Oh! this is where
you grow your beautiful carnations!"
When the Royal ladies returned to
the lounge from Louie's bedroom, Princess Alice said, "We've been such a long
time because we've been looking at your boy's photographs. What a sportsman he
must be!"
"Oh! those are the twins," said Louie.
"Twins," exclaimed
the Princess, "have you got twins? Are they alike?"
"Yes," answered Louie,
"I starved one for a whole day when they were babies, and overfed the other!"
The
Princess laughed and said, "Tell me more about them."
One story followed
after another, the Princess being a most enthusiastic and interested listener.
Louie found it the easiest thing in the world to talk to her, she was so charming,
so sweet and so natural.
"Are they still so much alike?" she asked.
"Yes;
when they were playing in a cricket match in Cape Town, where they are at school,
Graham had been in and batted, and when Leslie went in, the Captain of the opposition
team stopped the game and remonstrated, saying that it was not 'cricket' for one
man to bat twice!"
"How very amusing," said the Princess and Louie felt
that were she to tell her every story she could remember about the twins she would
still be interested.
"Yesterday," the Princess said, "we were shown over
the Grootfontein School of Agriculture. I was very interested in an apparatus
made for checking the laying of the hens. After the hen has laid the egg, she
goes out at a different door from the one by which she came in, and finds herself
in another yard."
"If she didn't lay an egg, what happens then?" asked
Louie.
"I don't know, I'm sure, I never thought of that!"
"When
my daughter was a little girl, "said Louie, "she asked 'does a hen lay an egg
because she wants to or because she must?'"
This story much amused the
Princess and she laughed most heartily. As the party of ten sat down to the luncheon
table, that awkward silence which is often experienced at such a time was broken
by the Earl asking Louie as he helped himself to butter, "Do you keep Jerseys?"
"No,"
replied Louie, "Airedales - Oh! I mean Ayrshires!" she corrected herself amidst
roars of laughter from everyone of the party. And the Earl said, "I thought you
had very funny Airdales!" Renewed laughter!
Louie did not feel at all sorry
for the mistake she had made, as it completely broke the ice, and thereafter the
luncheon passed off most happily, amidst a buzz of conversation and laughter.
After an hour's rest in Louie's room, Her Royal Highness was most interested
to see Jim's sheep dog working a flock of sheep, and she visited the artesian
well, strolled through the grounds, climbed a koppie to view a reservoir and the
big dam. She was charmed with the huge sheet of water and said, "You should certainly
have a boat."
During the afternoon Louie had an opportunity of asking the
Lady in waiting if there was anything she could do for the Princess. "Oh, no,
she does not require anything; she says you are a marvellous hostess."
"How
sweet and charming of her! Isn't there anything she needs in the train?"
"Yes,
if we could have something in which to put flowers. For instance, she received
a beautiful bouquet of carnations……"
"I gave them to her."
"Did
you really? I must tell her."
"She knows, " said Louie.
"Are you
sure she knows?"
"Yes, as soon as she arrived, after admiring the cherry
pie, she said 'Oh! This is where you grow your beautiful carnations.'"
"Isn't
she wonderful!" exclaimed the lady in tones of the deepest admiration.
Jim
found the time spent with the Earl most interesting. He was interested in the
working of the sheep dog, and in the artesian well, and was much attracted by
a splash of colour, masses of flowers at the end of a long path in Louie's garden.
As they walked at the side of a pond and Jim was saying that he had introduced
a large number of fish, a huge carp the size and thickness of a man's arm, raised
itself out of the water making a perfect picture - The Earl was delighted!
A
special page was kept in the Visitors'' Book on which only the three distinguished
signatures appeared.
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FOOT NOTES
Maria van der Spuy was born at the Cape on 18th October 1758. Her grandfather was Melt van der Spuy born in Rotterdam who arrived at the Cape for the first time in 1707 in the employ of the Dutch East India Company. He died a wealthy man in 1734
Caroline Matilda was 'married off' at age 15 to the 16 year old King Christian VII and a dowry of £100 000 was paid to the British Crown. When she went to Denmark after a proxy marriage in London it was the first time they had met although he had seen a painting of her
Toger Abo (the 'von' was added to the name in South Africa) was aged 23 and in the Danish Navy when he met Struensee and was promoted to 'generaladjutant' by him. It is unlikely that he would have been given a private apartment
It is generally accepted that the second child of Caroline Matilda, Louise, was fathered by Struensee-see Caroline Matilda-Queen of Denmark 1751-1775 by Hester W. Chapman
Celle near Hanover
In 1772 Toger Abo was arrested along with all Struensee supporters who were suspected of plotting with Struensee. After an enquiry Toger Abo was aquitted of all charges but banished from Denmark for 2 years
Toger Abo went to Amsterdam where he joined the Dutch East India Company [DEIC]. He made several voyages to the East and 1781 was promoted by the Dutch to Captain of the India Seas. He returned to Denmark in about 1785 and re-entered the Danish Navy as 'kaptajnlojtnant'. He never achieved the rank of Admiral although highly regarded. It is presumed that his involvment in the 'Struensee Affair' counted against him
He had probably met Maria on one of his trips to the East. He arrived in Cape Town in 1781 as Captain of the DEIC ship Het hof ter Linde and they married on 12th February 1781. It is likely that he left her there and continued on his voyage to Batavia. He returned permanently to Copenhagen in 1785
There is no factual basis for this statement. Their son Christain Johannes Abo was born on the 27th October 1787. He was christened at the Holmens Naval Church in Copenhagen and no royalty are recorded among the new-born's sponsors
These 'Obligations' were in fact Danish Government Bonds or debentures. Denmark was in a financial crisis at this time and was effectively insolvent
There is no factual basis for this legend. Louise Dorothea Naested 1793-1823 was a descendant of Mikkel Naested born about 1670. Her father Hans Michael Naested was a very wealthy man who owned a large house in Copenhagen
Betty Camilla Augusta Abo 1816-1896 future wife of Dr. Christian August Flemmer
If Christian Johannes Abo, husband of Louise Naested left Denmark in 1816 as seems likely, she died in 1823-seven years later
Her mother in law was Maria Abo [van der Spuy] who died in 1830 seven years after Louise
Betty was about 7 when her mother died. At that time she went to live with her mother's sister Charlotte Henriette Naested who was married to the Lutheran minister Andreas Hansen Kjeldberg. The daughter refered to was Methea Sophia Kjeldberg born 1820
Hans Christian Flemmer 1771-1847
Ridder af Danebrog translated to Knight of the Danish Flag
A silver tax was imposed because of a crisis in the Danish economy and silver had to be handed over or land was confiscated
Christian August Flemmer 1816-1896
Toger von Abo 1813-1879 married his cousin Methea Sophie Kjelberg on this visit and took her back to Cradock
There were in fact 4 sons and 3 daughters
Port Elizabeth was quite a well established although very rough and ready town by 1853, but they may well have stayed in a tent near the beach on arrival
There were already many doctors in the Cape Colony by this time, and there had been at least one doctor in Cradock since 1847
Anna Distin 1849-1924
Christian Ludvig Flemmer 1839-1903
26. John Sweet Distin was a very progressive and successful farmer. The 1886 Cape of Good Hope Official Handbook describes the farm Tafelberg Hall as being 22 800 acres in extent with wire fencing of 50-60 miles
The Mr. Flemmer referred to in this section is Christian Ludvig Flemmer 1839-1903 also referred to in the text as Ludvig
Dr Christian August Flemmer died aged 57 on 11th January 1870 on the farm Ruightervlei District Steynsburg
Toger von Abo died Cradock 9th April 1879
Christian Augustus Flemmer 1870-1874
Selina Camilla Flemmer born 4th December 1871
Anna Louise Flemmer born Cradock 28th January 1874
James Cooper Rous died 1876 (SA Archives: TAB MHG 0/544 1876) married Alexa Susan Cole died 1892 SA Archives ( TAB MHG 0/7107 1892)
Martha Winifred married John James Frean (SA Archives TAB 3129/41 1941)
Christian Ludvig and Anna Flemmer (Distin)
In 2003 the street numbers for this property were 632/633 Frere St
John Distin Flemmer born 4th August 1875
Christian Ludvig Flemmer born 25th January 1878
The Basuto War 1879/80 sometimes referred to as the Moirose Campaign. At this time Christian Ludvig Flemmer was aged 40
William Flemmer born 6th September 1879 died 19th June 1881
Christian was about 3 at this time
Edith Selina Flemmer born 1st June 1881 at Cradock and Olive Flemmer born 8th November 1882 at Cradock
Arthur Claude Flemmer born 21st July 1884 at Cradock
Mary Distin & John Montague's children, Anne Selina Montague April 27, 1872: Ruby Mabel Montague February 15, 1874: Ida Violet Montague May 17, 1876
Betty Camilla Augusta Flemmer (Abo) died 19th September 1896 aged 80. Anna was 22 at the time
As she was born in 1874 the engagement would have been in 1898
The Boer ultimatum to London expired on 10th October 1899, and the war broke out the next day
Page 288 "Twice Captured" Lord Rosslyn. He handed me 'Uncle Tom's Cabin'! As he did so , he whispered quickly, "Page 100," and then he was attended to by the doctor, and went away, I wondered at my curious visitor, and immediately opened the book. For a long time I could see nothing, but on looking closely at the page he had mentioned and the one following, I noticed little dots over some of the letters. I guessed that this was a message of some importance, and I immediately set to work to decipher it. The following is how it read:- "I have it on authentic information that General Cronje buried two big guns and a large quantity of ammunition under the graves of his dead. The guns are in the long grave pointing east and west. Two Waggon-loads (sic) of ammunition have been buried between Kroonstad and Winburg by burghers. Please communicate from Ernest Distin, Intelligence Department under Captain Lawrence, General French's column."
The wedding of her Anna Betty Camilla Gilfillan daughter of Charlotte Flemmer and Edward Gilfillan, to Launcelot M Harison (note spelling) on 5th February 1902 at St Peter's Cradock ( according to the paper it was the 5th not 3rd)
The 'Danish uncle and aunt' referred to were Hans Michael Naested and his wife Camilla Henriette Flemmer, who had married in Cradock 42 years before (1860)
Martha Winifred Rous married John James Frean SA Archives TAB 3129/41
born January 09, 1903
died in Cradock October 14, 1903
born August 26, 1904
October 30, 1905
Up to today January 2003 no trace has been found of Olive Flemmer. Rumour has it that she married Henri de Roosen, but no record can be found.
October 18, 1910 Arthur Claude Flemmer married Millicent Constance Kerr
St Lawrence Anglican Church. In the 1890's John Sweet Distin donated part of his farm for the church to be built. There were no stone masons and JSD brought two by the names of Miles and Barter from Scotland and with the help of the community the Church was built. It was consecrated by Bishop Webb of Grahamstown on the 15th February 1894.
Lillian Martha Shaw born Ziervogel married Robert William Thomas Shaw died 1950 TAB MHG Ref 227/50
Johnny Van Ryneveld
Site Last Updated Saturday, February 22, 2003. 14:16:36