CHAPTER XXIV

IN THE MIDST OF LIFE WE ARE IN DEATH

After peace was once more partially restored, our hero resolved to pay Johannesburg a visit and see how the _City of Gold_ looked after its effort to amuse itself, _à la_ South America, with an abortive revolution. It was not until Tuesday, the 18th February, that he was able to carry out his resolve--the evening of which day found him comfortably dining at a leading Rand hotel.

Steve found excitement, although cooled to a great extent, still running high. Arguments, pro and con, on late events were still the chief, if not the only, conversation indulged in during leisure moments.

It was after dinner, in the smoking-room, that our hero found himself in the midst of a party of men hotly discussing politics. The conversation was led by a colonial, who was taking the part of the Government, and a Jingo of the first water, who was as hotly defending the freebooters and rebels.

‘It is no use talking,’ said the latter, who was burdened with the name of Bock; ‘the Boers will ultimately have to go under. They are in the minority; they are illiterate; they are only half civilised! They are _Boors_, and it is presumptuous to hold that they will continue to rule this country--still less that they will ever rule South Africa! Englishmen are bound to _chuck_ them out in the end.’

‘Anyone can see that you are using the hackneyed arguments of the Jingoistic enemies of the Government, and that you are not speaking from your own knowledge or experience, but from what you have read in Jingo papers. It is true the Boers are illiterate, or the majority of them are; but it is also true that those few who have had the benefit of education have proved that the Afrikander is as capable to learn, and as susceptible to education, as any race in the world. As to civilisation--they are more civilised, as civilisation is taught in the Christian code, than many of their European contemporaries.’

‘If you call Bible reading and psalm singing, civilisation, I won’t argue the matter with you; in any case, they are bound to bend before the English race, sooner or later.’

‘By your faith shall ye be saved!’ interposed Steve.

‘By which you mean, sir?’ inquired Bock.

‘I mean that the Boers do not believe that salvation lies in superior learning, in high civilisation, or in superiority of numbers or arms, but in right and justice and the blessing of God?’

‘Cant!’ was the sneering reply of Bock.

‘You may call it _cant_ if you like. But it was such _cant_ that gave Dingaan and his twelve thousand warriors into the hands of five hundred Boers. It was such cant that enabled the Boers to carry on the war of independence against mighty England to a successful issue. It was such _cant_ that brought the elaborate plots of Rhodes, Jameson and the Johannesburg revolutionists to utter failure. It will be such cant that will make South Africa a free and united Republic, in which all the races of the world shall live free and united! The Boers believe in the efficacy of prayer: they believe that by prayer and through faith they can move mountains, and--England itself.’

‘Bah! do you believe in such nonsense? Do you really believe that you have only to ask God, if God there be, for anything you want, from a needle to an anchor, to receive it?’

‘I certainly believe that God _is_, and that if we ask we shall receive, if it be good for us, and if we ask in faith. I also believe that blasphemy and unbelief shall be punished,’ said Steve, reprovingly.

‘Rot!’ was the irreverent reply of Bock. ‘I do not believe that there is such a thing as God, beyond the godliness there is in Nature. There is no such thing as a God that answers prayer, or punishes blasphemy.’

‘I am sorry for you,’ was Steve’s gentle reply; ‘for the day shall come when you shall _know_ that there is a God of Wrath, who punishes blasphemy as well as a God of Love, who answers prayer.’

Bock answered with a roaring and mocking laugh, and said, ‘Well, I shall prove to you that there is no such God as you worship. _If there be a God, Who punishes blasphemy, I call upon Him to strike me dead, now or within forty-eight hours._ There, I have thrown the gauntlet down, let your God pick it up. I have given Him time enough to do it in.’

Steve answered by jumping up from his seat and running towards the door, where he stood looking at Bock with terror in his face.

‘What is the matter with you now?’ inquired Bock, laughing.

‘I fear me that God may take you at your word, and in your doom include me, for being in such evil company. For your soul’s sake speak not thus, but at least treat your Maker with reverence.’

Even the others present were shocked at Bock’s blasphemy, and seemed to share the fear of Steve to be punished for being in the same room with such a tempter of God; for they now rose and strolled out of the room, leaving Bock alone.

The following day Steve went for a long and extended stroll. He was surprised to see--all considered--the bustle and life still to be seen in the streets of Johannesburg; and he could hardly believe that he was walking in a city whose revolutionary state, a few weeks previously, was the talk of the world. He had no doubt that business men and the mining interest were still feeling the effects of the crisis severely; but the crowds in the streets seemed to hurry and bustle, with the usual intentness in their own missions in life incident to a large and busy city.

Steve had lunch at some restaurant, and then journeyed towards Auckland Park; and after a lengthy stroll about, was thinking of returning, and hailed a passing cab to do so, when he felt the earth tremble under him, and the glass of a house opposite fell crashing to the ground, and a noise as of distant thunder or artillery was heard.

‘Is it an earthquake, or Johannesburg fighting in earnest at last?’ Steve asked himself. He jumped into the cab, and told the driver to drive his best. A cloud of smoke was now seen ascending the sky; and after a few minutes a party in a cab was hailed and asked for information, as they seemed to be coming from the direction of the smoke. The driver replied that he ‘expected some magazine had blown up, as a stone had fallen from the sky a few yards from his cab.’

On reaching town, Steve was informed that a tremendous explosion of dynamite had taken place at Vrededorp. Evidence of the severity of the explosion was not wanting, as everywhere smashed windows were seen, and on nearing the scene of the explosion, the signs of damage done increased at every pace. All along the road our hero’s heart bled to see the number of wounded being conveyed to the hospital. But, on approaching the scene of the catastrophe itself, Steve felt sick and faint at the signs of death about him. He got out of the cab, and told the driver to put the cab at the service of the wounded, and look to him for payment when done. He himself assisted to place two of the wounded on his cab, and forgetting his natural repulsion at the sight of human blood and gaping wounds, set to work assisting in the labour of rescue.

‘My God! it is too horrible,’ he murmured, as he saw a severed head lying alone and ghastly here, with · set and staring eyes. It reminded him of his thoughts, in times past, of what the day of doom must be like. It seemed to him, as he found a human arm here, a leg, a hand, a head, or some portion of a body, there, that these portions of human bodies were waiting to be re-united to their other parts. He ran about, as if in a fever, and as if he would avoid seeing these terrible emblems of death lying about. Spade in hand, he would now assist in following a limb protruding from the mass of debris, lying on the brink of the vast hole that had been made by the explosion, after which task had been done, he would rush down to the bottom of the hole itself, and there again work and dig till the sweat poured from his face. After he could find no more rescue work here to be done, (so many others being busy in the same task that there was hardly room for all), he rushed towards the many fallen houses, fallen upon the inmates, where there was work enough for all. Oh, what a sight! A sight, once seen, never to be forgotten, if you live for a thousand years! Here is lying a dead mother, clasping her dead child to her cold breast. Here are a mother and three children, all found dead in one room. Here is a father, mad because of his grief, holding his dead child in his arms while moaning over his dead wife--dead, all dead--_death_ here, _death_ there, DEATH everywhere! How the men worked! Affliction makes us all of a kin. Not one skulked. Everyone was doing his best to rescue the wounded from the wrecks of once happy homes. No thought of politics here; no racial distinctions thought of. Here, in this great affliction all were of one race--the human race. Dutch and English work together like brothers. An Englishman rescues and handles a child of Dutch parents as tenderly as if it were his own. A Dutchman pulls out of the ruins a ‘rooinek,’ and supports his head as tenderly as if it was his own father, while he holds the restoring cup to his lips. When God wishes our hearts to be softened towards each other, he sends us affliction.

While the work of rescue is still going on, others, moved with pity at the sight of homeless and friendless ones not killed or wounded, begin to subscribe of their plenty, so that these may be provided for--a movement that was responded to most liberally from all South Africa, so that, at least, those who were left behind were provided for. Steve worked hard as long as he could, but at midnight he gave place to fresh ones who came up, as he was now thoroughly knocked up, and went to his hotel to get a few hours rest.