Part 39 (1/2)
THE GENERAL.
From the head-quarters of Sir Adrian Fairfax, I most transport you, my reader, to one of the most lonely and romantic districts in Southern Africa, where Sir John Manvers, with the second division of the army, had pitched his camp. Stretching in a south-easterly direction rose the green Chumie Mountains, their verdure contrasted occasionally with bold grey columns of rock; beyond these again, the Amatolas blended their purple heights with the roseate clouds; northward, the Winterberg range formed a barrier between the colony and Tambookieland, where dwelt the ”royal race” of the Kafirs, and, towering to the sky like a gigantic elephant, with a howdah on its back, the Great Winterberg, nine thousand feet high, lifted its lofty head, crowned with a diadem of snow.
On a fair green plain, the clear stream of the Kat running through the midst, were ranged with beautiful precision the white tents of the little army, which had been at first employed against the Kafir warriors, and afterwards held in reserve, lest the Dutch should rally in their strongholds. But Vander Roey's fate had been the death-blow to all further opposition for the present, and the troops were only waiting Sir Adrian's return from the Orange River to disperse, provided the aspect of affairs was peaceful.
It promised to be so, for the Kafirs were considerably dismayed at the news of the severe loss the Boers had suffered, in spite of their unerring roers and strong position, and now promised submission with the meekness of the dove and the wiliness of the serpent!
Sir Adrian's detention arose from delay in diplomatic measures. Several prisoners were yet to be disposed of. The princ.i.p.al traitor, Lyle, still eluded discovery, but a price was set upon his head.
On the outskirts of this encampment, just where the bright waters of the Kat River and the Mancazana meet, were scattered over a few acres of ground some temporary dwellings. Simple and rudely fas.h.i.+oned as they were, these thatched tenements looked exceedingly picturesque among the natural groves overshadowing them. The walls were white-washed, the little windows neatly glazed, and the verandahed fronts were gracefully wreathed with the wild creepers that grew about in profusion.
These dwellings, albeit not quite proof against the storms that often sweep in terrific grandeur through this lovely region, were comparatively luxurious, contrasted with the poor shelter of the tent or marquee, and one, divided far apart from the rest by a _banquette_ of earth, would have made apparently a sufficiently pleasant summer dwelling in England.
Mr Daveney finding it impracticable to reach the lower districts in safety, and earnestly requested by Sir Adrian Fairfax to accept an appointment of trust and responsibility, if only for a time, had taken up his abode here. The whole fabric had been run up within six weeks, despite untoward weather; a few days of suns.h.i.+ne made the little habitation of wattle, clay, thatch, and whitewash fit for the reception of his family. The ladies occupied one bed-room, a small office served the Commissioner--for such was Mr Daveney's new appointment--for a reception and sleeping apartment. The common sitting-room opened as usual from the verandah, and the simple cookery was carried on by the old Malay in the hollow of a tall rock, backing the premises. A couple of tents added materially to the accommodation and comfort of the tenement.
The intense anxiety of Eleanor's mind had produced a low fever, which kept the unfortunate young creature on her couch--wasted to a shadow, she lay beneath a little cas.e.m.e.nt, her only rest s.n.a.t.c.hes of fitful sleep, her only enjoyment the fresh air, that brought sweet odours with it from the heath-clad hills. Her mother and sister watched day and night by turns beside her. The Trails were again their neighbours, and were a great solace to the afflicted invalid.
”It is a sad strait for one so young to come to,” said Eleanor to Mr Trail one day, ”to wish to die.”
”Sad, indeed,” replied the good missionary; ”sad, because so sinful.”
”Ah, me!” said the sufferer, ”this suspense is killing me--is it not natural that I should long to be where the tears will be wiped from off all faces?”
”Patience, Eleanor, patience,” whispered Mr Trail. ”G.o.d has His own means of bestowing happiness; you _have_ been sorely tried, my poor child; but you are young, a long future may lie before you.”
And the invalid lifted up her large luminous eyes to Heaven with the most hopeless expression of despair.
Hark! horses are galloping past the dwelling--the rattle of accoutrements announces that soldiers are on their way. They soon go by; there are but few--it must be an express.
And the question pa.s.ses along the tented line, ”Is Lee taken?”
”Not yet; but the dispatches from Sir Adrian relate that a clue is obtained to his discovery.”
In a word, Herma.n.u.s the stutterer, who, rebel as he was, hated English traitors, succeeded in persuading his comrades that Lee and Brennard had never had any view but self-aggrandis.e.m.e.nt. It was therefore resolved in council to purchase their own pardon by delivering up the trader and the convict. Poor Gray had been carried off with the wounded to the hospital tent, and found to be seriously, though not mortally, hurt. He had not an enemy among the Boers; but it was proved that he had consented to serve a gun, and despite the decided step he had taken to avoid firing upon his countrymen, there was no evidence to show whether the act was the result of panic, or repentance.
He was, however, not to be condemned without a further hearing, when more evidence could be collected, and was sent to Sir John Manvers's division, with other convalescents, after the action.
Perfectly pa.s.sive and resigned to his impending fate, the young deserter met with compa.s.sion and solace at the kind hands of Mr Trail, who obtained permission to lodge him in his own little dwelling. Gray was, however, ironed whenever he pa.s.sed the threshold; but, in spite of his bonds, the poor lad confessed himself happier than he had been for years.
Marion and Ormsby were, as in happier times, sitting, side by side, under the willows that bent over the rus.h.i.+ng waters of the two rivers.
They were not many paces from the house, and hearing the tramp of horses' feet, hastened to learn the news brought by the express.
As they pa.s.sed Mr Trail's cottage, they saw Gray walking up and down, as he was permitted to do at certain hours of the day, between two sentries.
Marion shuddered at sight of the manacled limbs of this slight, handsome, and frank-hearted looking youth. He had been the a.s.sociate of Lyle! She was turning from him with a feeling of dislike, when his poor attempt to salute her with his fettered hands disarmed the sentiment and filled her heart with pity.
She pa.s.sed on with her lover, and on entering the house, they learned from Mrs Daveney that the express had brought private letters from Sir Adrian to Sir John Manvers and Mr Daveney.
The latter was at this moment sent for by the General commanding the division.
Sir John Manvers's marquee stood in the centre of the ”canvas city,”