Chapter 1.IX. He Sees A Ghost.
Bonaparte stood on the ash-heap. He espied across the plain a movingspeck and he chucked his coat-tails up and down in expectancy of ascene.
The wagon came on slowly. Waldo laid curled among the sacks at theback of the wagon, the hand in his breast resting on the sheep-shearingmachine. It was finished now. The right thought had struck him theday before as he sat, half asleep, watching the water go over themill-wheel. He muttered to himself with half-closed eyes:
"Tomorrow smooth the cogs--tighten the screws a little--show it tothem." Then after a pause--"Over the whole world--the whole world--mine,that I have made!" He pressed the little wheels and pulleys in hispocket till they cracked. Presently his muttering became louder--"Andfifty pounds--a black hat for my dadda--for Lyndall a blue silk,very light; and one purple like the earth-bells, and white shoes." Hemuttered on--"A box full, full of books. They shall tell me all, all,all," he added, moving his fingers desiringly: "why the crystals grow insuch beautiful shapes; why lightning runs to the iron; why black peopleare black; why the sunlight makes things warm. I shall read, read,read," he muttered slowly. Then came over him suddenly what he called"The presence of God"; a sense of a good, strong something folding himround. He smiled through his half-shut eyes. "Ah, Father, my own Father,it is so sweet to feel you, like the warm sunshine. The Bibles and bookscannot tell of you and all I feel you. They are mixed with men's words;but you--"
His muttering sank into inaudible confusion, till, opening his eyeswide, it struck him that the brown plain he looked at was the old homefarm. For half an hour they had been riding in it, and he had not knownit. He roused the leader, who sat nodding on the front of the wagonin the early morning sunlight. They were within half a mile of thehomestead. It seemed to him that he had been gone from them all a year.He fancied he could see Lyndall standing on the brick wall to watch forhim; his father, passing from one house to the other, stopping to look.
He called aloud to the oxen. For each one at home he had broughtsomething. For his father a piece of tobacco, bought at the shop by themill; for Em a thimble; for Lyndall a beautiful flower dug out bythe roots, at a place where they had outspanned; for Tant Sannie ahandkerchief. When they drew near the house he threw the whip tothe Kaffer leader, and sprung from the side of the wagon to run on.Bonaparte stopped him as he ran past the ash-heap.
"Good morning, my dear boy. Where are you running to so fast with yourrosy cheeks?"
The boy looked up at him, glad even to see Bonaparte.
"I am going to the cabin," he said, out of breath.
"You won't find them in just now--not your good old father," saidBonaparte.
"Where is he?" asked the lad.
"There, beyond the camps," said Bonaparte, waving his hand oratoricallytoward the stone-walled ostrich-camps.
"What is he doing there?" asked the boy.
Bonaparte patted him on the cheek kindly.
"We could not keep him any more, it was too hot. We've buried him,my boy," said Bonaparte, touching with his finger the boy's cheek. "Wecouldn't keep him any more. He, he, he!" laughed Bonaparte, as the boyfled away along the low stone wall, almost furtively, as one in fear.
*****
At five o'clock Bonaparte knelt before a box in the German's room. Hewas busily unpacking it.
It had been agreed upon between Tant Sannie and himself, that now theGerman was gone he, Bonaparte, was to be no longer schoolmaster, butoverseer of the farm. In return for his past scholastic labours he hadexpressed himself willing to take possession of the dead man's goodsand room. Tant Sannie hardly liked the arrangement. She had a greatdeal more respect for the German dead than the German living, and wouldrather his goods had been allowed to descend peacefully to his son. Forshe was a firm believer in the chinks in the world above, where not onlyears, but eyes might be applied to see how things went on in this worldbelow. She never felt sure how far the spirit-world might overlap thisworld of sense, and, as a rule, prudently abstained from doing anythingwhich might offend unseen auditors. For this reason she abstained fromill-using the dead Englishman's daughter and niece, and for this reasonshe would rather the boy had had his father's goods. But it was hard torefuse Bonaparte anything when she and he sat so happily together in theevening drinking coffee, Bonaparte telling her in the broken Dutch hewas fast learning how he adored fat women, and what a splendid farmer hewas.
So at five o'clock on this afternoon Bonaparte knelt in the German'sroom.
"Somewhere, here it is," he said, as he packed the old clothes carefullyout of the box, and, finding nothing, packed them in again. "Somewherein this room it is; and if it's here Bonaparte finds it," he repeated."You didn't stay here all these years without making a little pilesomewhere, my lamb. You weren't such a fool as you looked. Oh, no!" saidBonaparte.
He now walked about the room, diving his fingers in everywhere: stickingthem into the great crevices in the wall and frightening out thespiders; rapping them against the old plaster till it cracked and fellin pieces; peering up the chimney, till the soot dropped on his baldhead and blackened it. He felt in little blue bags; he tried to raisethe hearth-stone; he shook each book, till the old leaves fell down inshowers on the floor.
It was getting dark, and Bonaparte stood with his finger on his nosereflecting. Finally he walked to the door, behind which hung thetrousers and waistcoat the dead man had last worn. He had felt in them,but hurriedly, just after the funeral the day before; he would examinethem again. Sticking his fingers into the waistcoat pockets, he found inone corner a hole. Pressing his hand through it, between the lining andthe cloth, he presently came into contact with something. Bonaparte drewit forth--a small, square parcel, sewed up in sail-cloth. He gazed atit, squeezed it; it cracked, as though full of bank-notes. He put itquickly into his own waistcoat pocket, and peeped over the half-door tosee if there was any one coming. There was nothing to be seen but thelast rays of yellow sunset light, painting the karoo bushes in theplain, and shining on the ash-heap, where the fowls were pecking. Heturned and sat down on the nearest chair, and, taking out his pen-knife,ripped the parcel open. The first thing that fell was a shower of yellowfaded papers. Bonaparte opened them carefully one by one, and smoothedthem out on his knee. There was something very valuable to be hidden socarefully, though the German characters he could not decipher. When hecame to the last one, he felt there was something hard in it.
"You've got it, Bon, my boy! you've got it!" he cried, slapping his leghard. Edging nearer to the door, for the light was fading, he opened thepaper carefully. There was nothing inside but a plain gold wedding-ring.
"Better than nothing!" said Bonaparte, trying to put it on his littlefinger, which, however, proved too fat.
He took it off and set it down on the table before him, and looked at itwith his crosswise eyes.
"When that auspicious hour, Sannie," he said, "shall have arrived, when,panting, I shall lead thee, lighted by Hymen's torch, to the connubialaltar, then upon thy fair amaranthine finger, my joyous bride, shallthis ring repose.
"Thy fair body, oh, my girl, Shall Bonaparte possess; His fingers in thy money-bags, He therein, too, shall mess."
Having given utterance to this flood of poesy, he sat lost in joyousreflection.
"He therein, too, shall mess," he repeated meditatively.
At this instant, as Bonaparte swore, and swore truly to the end of hislife, a slow and distinct rap was given on the crown of his bald head.
Bonaparte started and looked up. No riem or strap, hung down fromthe rafters above, and not a human creature was near the door. Itwas growing dark; he did not like it. He began to fold up the papersexpeditiously. He stretched out his hand for the ring. The ring wasgone! Gone, although no human creature had entered the room; gone,although no form had crossed the doorway. Gone!
He would not sleep there, that was certain.
He stuffed the papers into his pocket. As he did so, three slow anddistinct taps were gi
ven on the crown of his head. Bonaparte's jaw fell:each separate joint lost its power: he could not move; he dared notrise; his tongue lay loose in his mouth.
"Take all, take all!" he gurgled in his throat. "I--I do not want them.Take"--
Here a resolute tug at the grey curls at the back of his head caused himto leap up, yelling wildly. Was he to sit still paralyzed, to be draggedaway bodily to the devil? With terrific shrieks he fled, casting noglance behind.
*****
When the dew was falling, and the evening was dark, a small figure movedtoward the gate of the furthest ostrich-camp, driving a bird before it.When the gate was opened and the bird driven in and the gate fastened,it turned away, but then suddenly paused near the stone wall.
"Is that you, Waldo?" said Lyndall, hearing a sound.
The boy was sitting on the damp ground with his back to the wall. Hegave her no answer.
"Come," she said, bending over him, "I have been looking for you allday."
He mumbled something.
"You have had nothing to eat. I have put some supper in your room. Youmust come home with me, Waldo."
She took his hand, and the boy rose slowly.
She made him take her arm, and twisted her small fingers among his.
"You must forget," she whispered. "Since it happened I walk, I talk,I never sit still. If we remember, we cannot bring back the dead." Sheknit her little fingers closer among his. "Forgetting is the best thing.He did watch it coming," she whispered presently. "That is the dreadfulthing, to see it coming!" She shuddered. "I want it to come so to metoo. Why do you think I was driving that bird?" she added quickly. "Thatwas Hans, the bird that hates Bonaparte. I let him out this afternoon; Ithought he would chase him and perhaps kill him."
The boy showed no sign of interest.
"He did not catch him; but he put his head over the half-door of yourcabin and frightened him horribly. He was there, busy stealing yourthings. Perhaps he will leave them alone now; but I wish the bird hadtrodden on him."
They said no more till they reached the door of the cabin.
"There is a candle and supper on the table. You must eat," she saidauthoritatively. "I cannot stay with you now, lest they find out aboutthe bird."
He grasped her arm and brought his mouth close to her ear.
"There is no God!" he almost hissed; "no God; not anywhere!"
She started.
"Not anywhere!"
He ground it out between his teeth, and she felt his hot breath on hercheek.
"Waldo, you are mad," she said, drawing herself from him, instinctively.
He loosened his grasp and turned away from her also.
In truth, is it not life's way? We fight our little battles alone; youyours, I mine. We must not help or find help.
When your life is most real, to me you are mad; when your agony isblackest, I look at you and wonder. Friendship is good, a strong stick;but when the hour comes to lean hard, it gives. In the day of theirbitterest need all souls are alone.
Lyndall stood by him in the dark, pityingly, wonderingly. As he walkedto the door, she came after him.
"Eat your supper; it will do you good," she said.
She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and then ran away.
In the front room the little woolly Kaffer girl was washing TantSannie's feet in a small tub, and Bonaparte, who sat on the woodensofa, was pulling off his shoes and stockings that his own feet mightbe washed also. There were three candles burning in the room, and he andTant Sannie sat close together, with the lean Hottentot not far off; forwhen ghosts are about much light is needed, there is great strengthin numbers. Bonaparte had completely recovered from the effects of hisfright in the afternoon, and the numerous doses of brandy that it hadbeen necessary to administer to him to effect his restoration had puthim into a singularly pleasant and amiable mood.
"That boy Waldo," said Bonaparte, rubbing his toes, "took himself offcoolly this morning as soon as the wagon came, and has not done a stiverof work all day. I'll not have that kind of thing now I'm master of thisfarm."
The Hottentot maid translated.
"Ah, I expect he's sorry that his father's dead," said Tant Sannie."It's nature, you know. I cried the whole morning when my father died.One can always get another husband, but one can't get another father,"said Tant Sannie, casting a sidelong glance at Bonaparte.
Bonaparte expressed a wish to give Waldo his orders for the next day'swork, and accordingly the little woolly-headed Kaffer was sent tocall him. After a considerable time the boy appeared, and stood in thedoorway.
If they had dressed him in one of the swallow-tailed coats, and oiledhis hair till the drops fell from it, and it lay as smooth as an elder'son sacrament Sunday, there would still have been something unanointed inthe aspect of the fellow. As it was, standing there in his strange oldcostume, his head presenting much the appearance of having been deeplyrolled in sand, his eyelids swollen, the hair hanging over hisforehead, and a dogged sullenness on his features, he presented most theappearance of an ill-conditioned young buffalo.
"Beloved Lord," cried Tant Sannie, "how he looks! Come in, boy. Couldn'tyou come and say good-day to me? Don't you want some supper?"
He said he wanted nothing, and turned his heavy eyes away from her.
"There's a ghost been seen in your father's room," said Tant Sannie. "Ifyou're afraid you can sleep in the kitchen."
"I will sleep in our room," said the boy slowly.
"Well, you can go now," she said; "but be up early to take the sheep.The herd--"
"Yes, be up early, my boy," interrupted Bonaparte, smiling. "I am tobe master of this farm now; and we shall be good friends, I trust, verygood friends, if you try to do your duty, my dear boy."
Waldo turned to go, and Bonaparte, looking benignly at the candle,stretched out one unstockinged foot, over which Waldo, looking atnothing in particular, fell with a heavy thud upon the floor.
"Dear me! I hope you are not hurt, my boy," said Bonaparte. "You'll havemany a harder thing than that though, before you've gone through life,"he added consolingly, as Waldo picked himself up.
The lean Hottentot laughed till the room rang again; and Tant Sannietittered till her sides ached.
When he had gone the little maid began to wash Bonaparte's feet.
"Oh, Lord, beloved Lord, how he did fall! I can't think of it," criedTant Sannie, and she laughed again. "I always did know he was not right;but this evening any one could see it," she added, wiping the tears ofmirth from her face. "His eyes are as wild as if the devil was in them.He never was like other children. The dear Lord knows, if he doesn'twalk alone for hours talking to himself. If you sit in the room withhim you can see his lips moving the whole time; and if you talk to himtwenty times he doesn't hear you. Daft-eyes; he's as mad as mad can be."
This repetition of the word mad conveyed meaning to Bonaparte's mind. Heleft off paddling his toes in the water.
"Mad, mad? I know that kind of mad," said Bonaparte, "and I know thething to give for it. The front end of a little horsewhip, the tip! Nicething; takes it out," said Bonaparte.
The Hottentot laughed, and translated.
"No more walking about and talking to themselves on this farm now," saidBonaparte; "no more minding of sheep and reading of books at the sametime. The point of a horsewhip is a little thing, but I think he'llhave a taste of it before long." Bonaparte rubbed his hands and lookedpleasantly across his nose; and then the three laughed together grimly.
And Waldo in his cabin crouched in the dark in a corner, with his kneesdrawn up to his chin.
The Story of an African Farm Page 11
