CHAPTER X

A FISHING PARTY ON THE VAAL RIVER

From the time of publication of the National Union Manifesto, a cloud seemed to hang over the country. On every street corner and under every verandah where two or three were gathered together, politics were being spoken of. What is going to happen? Was Johannesburg really going to take the bit in its own teeth and go its own way, or was it all only big talk and a case of the Union playing the bogey man to frighten the Government into submission and into giving way to their demands. There _were_ a few fiery-minded youths in Pretoria who talked big of the mighty things the Uitlanders were going to do. They were armed; they had twenty Maxims, cannons and small arms in plenty; they were going to remove the Boer Government and raise a government of their own, etc., etc.

But the majority of the Uitlanders living in Pretoria expressed their intention to stand by the present Government. They were not going to have either the Imperial Government again, or a government of capitalists. The former had made too many mistakes in South Africa already to be desired; besides, are we not men, cannot we work out our own salvation? As to the latter, enough of that has been seen in Europe, America and Kimberley. No, we are satisfied with the present Government, and with the improvements we know that we shall get soon. The Government received daily assurances from leading Pretoria men of staunch support in case of need. Even in Johannesburg, the Government was not in want of many thousands of Uitlander friends.

One hardy old Scotchman, interviewed by a countryman lately arrived, in answer to the question as to what his intentions were in case of disturbances, replied by pointing to a gun standing in a corner and saying,--

‘You see that gun? Well that gun and myself are at the service of Oom Paul whenever he wants us. I am not going to see such an unrighteous thing as deposing a just and kind Government by a lot of capitalists and other knaves.’

Steve, amongst many others, never for a moment supposed that any disturbance or breach of the peace would take place before the 6th January, which was the date appointed by the National Union for their great meeting, when they would decide upon future action. How was he or the general public (mostly concerned) to know of the secret preparations (whispered of, but not believed) made by the conspirators to let the dogs of war--and that civil war--loose on or before the date appointed? How was he or they to know that preparations were far advanced for the invasion of the Transvaal by Chartered troops? The different Governments concerned did not know of it; how could private individuals know?

So Steve and his friends made preparations for a fishing party during the New Year holidays on the Vaal River.

Accordingly, Saturday night saw Steve and his friends embarked on the Cape train _en route_ for the Vaal River. They were going by rail as far as Vereeniging, from which place they had made arrangements to leave by a mule waggon, which they had chartered for the week. Arrived at the border town, they loaded their tent and provisions on the mule waggon, expecting to have a quiet but enjoyable picnic on the banks of the Vaal. The site for their camp was chosen about eighteen miles west from Vereeniging, as they wished to be away from the bustle of town life for the few days of rest. Sunday afternoon saw the party comfortably settled on a pretty spot on the river’s bank. A few beautiful trees supplied them with the necessary shade from the heat of the sun.

Sunday afternoon and evening were spent in quiet rest, after the necessary operations of fixing up camp were over.

Monday morning early, fishing was begun in earnest. A fairly successful day was spent on the river bank. Towards sundown the party returned to camp.

After coffee had been made and partaken of, Steve proposed that they should go to the little country store, lying about half-a-mile away.

‘It will be a nice little walk before supper,’ he remarked, ‘and, besides, we might hear some news from the shopkeeper, as he is the post-agent here.’ His proposal was accepted, and the party strolled forth. Arrived at the store, they found the proprietor to be one Nande. This Nande was an Afrikander born, but an English educated young man; handsome, stout, and well spoken, but slightly deaf. As to his character, that will be sufficiently gathered from his conversation and acts.

After a few trifling purchases had been made in the store, as a sort of introduction, Steve inquired if he had heard any news from Pretoria or Johannesburg to-day.

‘Oh, yes, I have heard news, and if it is true, I shall be jolly glad; it will show these miserable Boers that the British people are not to be trifled with. I hear that Jameson has entered the Transvaal with eight hundred troopers, and is marching on to Johannesburg at full speed; it is only a rumour as yet, I heard it at the station this afternoon.’

At the first few words Steve trembled with agitation and apprehension for the Transvaal, for, if this was true, it really meant war with Great Britain, for Jameson and his men were really British troops. But a moment’s reflection showed him how improbable such a thing must be. He could not believe England capable of such perfidy. The Transvaal was at peace with England, and had done absolutely nothing to provoke an invasion, or even a talk of an invasion from England. Besides, the last decade of the nineteenth century was not a time when one civilised country invades another, unprovoked and without rhyme or reason. No, the wish was only father to the thought, it was not to be believed for a moment. But what struck Steve with disgust was that this young man, who looked like an Afrikander, appeared to wish for such an invasion, and seemed to glory in the very idea of it.

‘May I ask what your name is, sir?’ he said, turning to the storekeeper.

‘My name is Nande.’

‘But that is a pure Afrikander name.’

‘So it is. I was born in the Cape Colony, and have been in the Transvaal now for five years.’

‘But why do you speak as if you wished for the downfall of our Afrikander Republic?’

‘Because I do not think it right that we should be governed by these Boers any longer. Why, they refused to give me a situation just because I could not write Hollander-Dutch; they rather gave it to a Hollander than to an Afrikander.’

‘I think that shows their good sense,’ replied Steve; ‘if you had learned your mother tongue as well as you did English, they would not have refused you.’

‘Well, I only hope that Jameson and the Uitlanders will succeed in chucking the whole lot out, then a man who has received an English education will be able to get a Government situation too. I hope to see the British flag flying once more over the Transvaal in a week or so.’

‘Hurrah for Jameson and the British flag!’ cried Steve’s cousin.

This young man had been in the habit of running the English down ever since he had come to the Transvaal, because he thought it good policy, but now that he believed the English were going to be victorious, he thought it was high time to put on his Anglo-Saxon coat and go with the winning party. It is all very well to be an Afrikander while Afrikanderism is popular, and while Afrikanders hold the handle of the knife. But now it seems England is going to wrest the handle out of the hands of the Boers, so ‘British I will be now,’ was his philosophy--ugh!

Keith and Harrison did not say a word; they seemed to be stricken dumb at what they heard.

‘Oh, so you are taking a fit of Anglo-mania, too, now--you--cur, you--dog, you coward.’

‘And I am a Britisher too, and I also say Hurrah for Jameson,’ cried Nande.

Steve stood with clenched hands, pale as death.

‘And I say that the man who turns his coat and stands away from his countrymen in their time of need is worse than a _dog_, is worse than a Kaffir, for even a Kaffir will stand by his people in time of need. You are both dogs--_curs_, and worse than curs, you mongrel Afrikanders.’

‘Look here, young man, you must be careful what you say; you must remember we are four against you alone; we will soon take your gas out of you,’ said Nande.

‘Come on then all of you. One true Afrikander can always _down_ half-a-dozen cowardly curs like you. I do not believe a hundred like you would have the pluck to tackle one single Boer. Come on, I am ready for you.’

He stood with his back against the wall, with clenched fists, fierce set face, and gleaming eyes.

Nande snatched an axe handle standing near, and crying to the other three to ‘come on and let us silence this miserable Boer,’ he walked in a threatening way to within three paces of Steve. Steve stood calmly but determinedly awaiting the attack. When Nande stopped three paces in front of him, Steve looked him full in the eyes. Nande could not stand that look; he trembled with fear, and looking away, he turned to the others and said,--

‘Are you fellows not going to help me to give this Boer a good thrashing?’

Keith and Harrison looked contemptuously at him, the former remarking that,--

‘If any help were required, we would certainly give it to Steve. _He_ is a _man_. You are a cowardly renegade. I would be ashamed of you, if you really were an Englishman.’

‘Thank God there are very few Afrikanders such as these two,’ said Steve. ‘It would be a bad lookout for us if there were many such.’

‘You are right, Steve,’ said Harrison. ‘They are about the only two I have ever met. I wish I had the privilege to be a born Afrikander. I would not thus turn renegade, but would be only too happy to fight for my country; and, by God, if this is true about Jameson, I _will_ fight for them. If Englishmen can act as treacherously as this, then I shall disown my own country and become a true citizen of this, my adopted country; that, at least, would not be turning renegade, for I should be fighting for the country I live in.’

‘And so say I, too,’ said Keith.

Nande, seeing how the land lay, and the mistake he had made when he expected to be supported by the young Englishmen, backed out, and retreated behind his counter.

The party now left, and returned to their camp with Steve’s cousin slinking on behind them. He kept out of Steve’s way for the rest of the evening, as he saw that he was in the minority now, and that was not a _rôle_ he delighted in playing.