John Ames, Native Commissioner: A Romance of the Matabele Rising

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER FIVE.

  THE MEETING OF THE WAYS.

  The mail-steamer from England had been docked early in Cape Town, andthe tables at lunch-time, in the dining room of Cogill's Hotel atWynberg, were quite full. There is something unmistakable about thenewly landed passenger, male or female, especially when takengregariously; and this comes out mainly in a wholly abnormal vivacity,begotten presumably of a sense of emancipation from the cooped monotonyof shipboard, and a conversational tendency to hark back to theincidents of the voyage, and the idiosyncrasies of the populace of therecent floating prison. Add to this a display of brand new ribbons onthe hats of certain of the ornamental sex, bearing the name of thefloating prison aforesaid, and a sort of huddled up clannishness as of ahanging together for mutual protection in a strange land.

  With this phase of humanity were most of the tables filled. One,however, was an exception, containing a square party of four, not of theexuberantly lively order. To be perfectly accurate, though, only threeof these constituted a "party;" the fourth, a silent stranger, wearingmore the aspect of a man from up-country than one of the newly landed,was unknown to the residue.

  "What an abominable noise those people are making," remarked one of thetrio, a tall, thin, high-nosed person of about thirty, with a glance ata table over the way, where several newly landed females were screamingover the witticisms of a brace of downy lipped youths, who were underthe impression the whole room was hanging upon their words. "I onlyhope they don't represent the sort of people we shall have to put upwith if we stay here."

  "Don't you be alarmed about that, Mrs Bateman," said the man on herright. "That stamp of Britisher doesn't stay here. It melts off intoboarding-houses and situations in Cape Town or Johannesburg. Just rollsup here because it's the thing to run out to Cogill's and have tiffinfirst thing on landing; at least, so it thinks. It'll all havedisappeared by to-night."

  "That's a comfort, anyway, if we do stay. What do you think of thisplace, Nidia?"

  "I think it'll do. Those views of the mountain we got coming along inthe train were perfectly lovely. And then it seems so leafy and cool.You can get about from here, too, can't you, Mr Moseley?"

  "Oh yes, anywhere. Any amount of trains and trams. And I expect you'llwear out the roads with that bike of yours, Miss Commerell."

  "By the way, I wonder if they brought our bicycles from the station?"said the other of the two ladies. "You saw them last, Nidia."

  "Yes. They are all right. They were standing outside when we came in."

  Now, utterly workaday and commonplace as all this was, not a word of itescaped the silent stranger. This girl, seated at his right, hadriveted his attention from the moment she came in, and indeed there wasthat about Nidia Commerell's face which was likely to exercise such aneffect. It had a way of lighting up--a sudden lifting of the eyelashes,the breaking into a half smile, revealing a row of teeth beautifullyeven and white. She had blue eyes, and her hair, which was neitherbrown nor golden, but something between, curled in soft natural wavesalong the brow, dispensing with the necessity of any attempt at afringe; and her colouring was of that warm richness which gave the ideathat Nature had at first intended her for a brunette, then got puzzled,and finally had given her up in hopeless despair, which was perhaps thebest thing that could have happened, for the result was about as dainty,refined, alluring a specimen of young womanhood as the jaded glance ofthe discriminating male could wish to rest upon.

  This, at any rate, was the mental verdict of the stranger, and for thisreason he hailed with inward satisfaction the recently expresseddecision of the two as to taking up their quarters there for a time.

  "You ought to remain here a few days, and show us about, Mr Moseley,"said the elder of the two ladies, after some more desultoryconversation.

  "Wish I could, Mrs Bateman. No such luck, though. I've got to startfor Bulawayo to-night. They are hurrying the soul out of me as it is."

  "Isn't the journey a frightful one?" asked Nidia.

  "It isn't a delightful one," laughed the man, who was just a fairaverage specimen of the well-bred Englishman, of good height, well setup, and well groomed. "Railway to Mafeking, then eight days' coaching;and they tell me the coach is always crammed full. Pleasant, isn't it?"

  The stranger looked up quickly as though about to say something, butthought better of it. Nidia rejoined--

  "What in the world will we do when our time comes?"

  "I am afraid you must make up your minds to some discomforts," repliedMoseley. "One of the conditions of life in a new country, you know.But people are very decent in those parts, and I'm sure would doeverything they could to assist you."

  A little more conversation, and, lunch being over, the trio withdrew.John Ames, left alone at the table, was lost in all sorts of wildimaginings. Something seemed to have altered within him, and that owingto the proximity of this girl, a perfect stranger, whom three quartersof an hour ago he had never set eyes on. It was really very absurd, hetold himself. But when a man has had fever, he is bound to be liable tofall a victim to any kind of absurdity. Fever! that was it--so he toldhimself.

  Now, as he sat there, dreamily cracking almonds, he began to regret hisreticence. The very turn of the conversation favoured him. He mighthave volunteered considerable information for the benefit of the man whowas going up-country, he suspected, for the first time. Theconversation would have become general, and might have paved the way toan acquaintanceship. There was no necessity for him to have been soreticent. He had lived too long stowed away, he decided. It was hightime he came out of his shell.

  He had applied for and obtained his leave, and had come down there tospend it. The sea breezes blowing across the isthmus of the CapePeninsula, the cool leafiness of the lovely suburbs, were as a verytonic after the hot, steamy, tropical glow of his remote home. But theeffects of the fever, combined with a natural reserve, kept him fromgoing much among people, and most of his time was spent alone.

  "I wonder who that man is who sat at our table," Nidia Commerell wassaying; for the trio were seated outside trying to converse amid thecackle and din of one of the livelier parties before referred to.

  "He looked awfully gloomy," said Mrs Bateman.

  "Did you think so, Susie? Now, I thought he looked nice. Perhaps hewasn't feeling well."

  "He had a look that way, too," said Moseley. "Up-country man perhaps.Down here to throw off a touch of fever. I've seen them before."

  "Poor fellow! That may have accounted for it," said Nidia. "Yes; he'squite nice-looking."

  John Ames, meanwhile, was smoking a solitary pipe on the balcony infront of his room, and his thoughts continued to run on this new--and tohim, supremely foolish subject. Then he pulled himself together. Hewould get on his bicycle and roll down to Muizenberg for a whiff of thebriny.

  The afternoon was cloudless and still, and the spin along a smooth and,for the most part, level road exhilarating. A brisk stroll on thebeach, the rollers tumbling lazily in, and he had brought his mind toother things--the affairs of his district, and whether the other man whowas temporarily filling his place would be likely to make a mess of themor not, and how he would pull with Inglefield--whether Madula hadrecovered from the sulky mood into which the action of Nanzicele hadthrown him--and half a hundred matters of the sort. And so, havingre-mounted his wheel, and being about halfway homeward again, he couldown himself clear of the foolish vein in which he had set out, when--there whirled round the bend in the road two bicycles, the riderswhereof were of the ornamental sex; in fact, the very two upon one ofwhom his thoughts had been chaotically running.

  One quick glance from Nidia Commerell's blue eyes as they shot by, andJohn Ames was thrown right back into all that futile vein of meditationwhich he had only just succeeded in putting behind him. The offender,meanwhile, was delivering herself on the subject of him to her companionin no uncertain terms.

  "Susie, that's the man who was sitting at our table. I think we
'll getto know him. He looks nice, and, as he bikes, he'll come in handy asescort to a pair of unprotected females."

  "How do you know he'll appreciate the distinction you propose to conferupon him? He may not, you know. He looks reserved."

  "Oh, he's only shy. Say something civil to him to-night at dinner.We'll soon get him out of his shell. He only wants a little judiciousdrawing out."

  The other looked dubious. "I don't know," she said. "I'm not sure wehadn't better leave him alone. You see, I'm responsible for your goodbehaviour now, Nidia; and really it is a responsibility. I don't likebeing a party to adding this unfortunate man's to your string ofscalps."

  We regret to record that at this juncture Nidia's exceedingly prettymouth framed but one word of one syllable. This was it:

  "Bosh!"

  "No, it isn't bosh," went on her friend, emphatically. "And, the worstof it is, they all take it so badly; and this one looks as if he'd be noexception to the general rule, but very much the reverse. I don't knowwhat there is about you, but you really ought to be cloistered, mychild; you're too dangerous to be at large."

  "Susie, dry up! We'll exploit our interesting stranger this evening,that is, presently; and now I think we'd better turn, for after threeweeks of the ship I can't ride any further with the slightest hope ofgetting back to-night."

  The upshot of all this was that when the two sat down to dinner theygave John Ames the "Good evening" with just as much geniality as thefrigidity of English manners would allow to be manifested when outsideEngland towards the only other occupant of the same table. It sufficedfor its purposes, and soon the three were in converse.

  "We passed each other on the road this evening," said John Ames. "Itwas some way out, and I wonder you got back in time. Are you fond ofbicycling?"

  "We simply live on our bikes when the weather is decent," replied Nidia."This seems a good locality for it. The roads are splendid, aren'tthey?"

  "Yes. I generally wheel down to Muizenberg or Kalk Bay for a puff ofsea air. It's refreshing after the up-country heat."

  "Sea air? But can you get to the sea so soon?" said Mrs Bateman,surprised.

  "Oh yes. In less than an hour."

  Both then began to enthuse about the sea, after the British method,which was the more inexplicable considering they had just had threeweeks of it, and that viewed from its very worst standpoint--_upon_ it,to wit. They must go there to-morrow. Was it easy to find the way?And so forth. What could John Ames do but volunteer to show it them?--which offer was duly accepted. Things were now upon a goodunderstanding.

  "Do they ride bikes much up-country--I think you said you were fromup-country, did you not?" said Nidia, artlessly, with that quick lift ofthe eyelids.

  "Oh yes, a good deal. But it's more for the hard practical purpose ofgetting from one place to another than just riding about for fun. Itstrikes one though, if one has any imagination, as a sample of the wayin which this aggressive civilisation of ours wedges itself ineverywhere. You are right away in the veldt, perhaps only just scaredaway a clump of sable or roan antelope, or struck the fresh spoor of abrace of business-like lions, when you look up, and there are twofellows whirring by on up-to-date bikes. You give each other a passingshout and they are gone."

  "Yes. It is a contrast, if one has an imagination," said Nidia. "Butnot everybody has. Don't you think so?"

  "Certainly. But when a man lives a good deal alone, and seescomparatively little of his kind, it is apt to stimulate that faculty."

  Nidia looked interested. The firm, quiet face before her, the straightglance of the grey eyes, represented a character entirely to her liking,she decided. "Is it long since you came out?" she asked.

  "Well, in the sense you mean I can't be said to have come out at all,for I was born and bred out here--in Natal, at least. But I have beenin England."

  "Really? I thought you were perhaps one of the many who had come outduring the last few years."

  "Am I not colonial enough?" said John Ames, with a quiet laugh.

  "N-no. At least, I don't mean that--in fact, I don't know what I domean," broke off Nidia, with a perfectly disarming frankness.

  "Do you know Bulawayo at all?"

  The diversion came from the third of the trio.

  "Oh yes; I have just come from up that way."

  "Really. I wonder if you ever met my husband. He is a mining engineer.Bateman our name is."

  John Ames thought.

  "The name doesn't seem altogether unknown to me," he said. "The fact isI am very seldom in Bulawayo. My district lies away out in the wilds,and very wild indeed it is."

  "What sort of a place is Bulawayo?"

  "Oh, a creditable township enough, considering that barely three yearsago it was a vast savage kraal, and, barring a few traders, there wasn'ta white man in the country."

  "But isn't it full of savages now?" struck in Nidia.

  "Yes; there are a good few--not right around Bulawayo, though. Are youlikely to be going up there?"

  "We are, a little later," replied Mrs Bateman. "This is fortunate.You will be able to tell us all about it."

  "With pleasure. I shall be too happy to give you any information Ican."

  "Is it safe up there?" said Nidia. "Is there no fear of those dreadfulsavages rising some night and killing us all?"

  Unconsciously the official reserve came over John Ames. He had morethan once predicted to himself and one or two confidential friends sucha contingency as by no means outside the bounds of practical politics,almost invariably to be laughed at for his pains. Now he replied:

  "Everything that precaution can do is against it. They are carefullysupervised; in fact, it is my own particular business to supervise aconsiderable section of them."

  "Really? But how do you talk, to them? Can they talk English?"

  John Ames smiled. "You forget I mentioned that I was raised in Natal."

  "Of course. How stupid I am!" declared Nidia. "And so you know theirlanguage and have to look after them? Isn't it very exciting?"

  "No; deplorably prosaic. There are points of interest about the work,though."

  "And you keep them in order, and know all that's going on?"

  "We try to; and I think on the whole we succeed fairly well."

  But at that very moment Shiminya the sorcerer was dooming to death twopersons, and filling with seditious venom the minds of three chiefs ofimportance within the speaker's district.