Jasper Lyle Part 14

"See there," observed Mr Daveney; "at the very farthest ridge is a gleam like a star, this is but a link in the chain which began in some far valley within the frontier line, and is pa.s.sing from hill to hill to the distant bluffs overhanging the sea near the Kei."

The servants were a.s.sembling in the trellised pa.s.sage to wait their master's orders, the ladies and Ormsby were still busied in the dining-room, and Frankfort was intent on May's entreaties that a party might be sent under his guidance in search of Piet's wagon, when the deep stillness of the night was broken by a cry so unearthly, so shrill, yet so strangely prolonged, that all stood still to listen.

It was the war-cry of Kafirland!

It came from the farthest mountain-tops, advanced as though a voice, trumpet-tongued, pa.s.sed over the hills, descended to the plains, rose again, the echoes following it. Fainter, fainter, it dies away at last into a wailing cry, only to be repeated at the starting point, taken up, pa.s.sed on as before, and sent again wailing through the great solitudes from the Amatolas to the ocean.

Silence, dread and profound, fell upon many tenants of the mansion in that appalling hour. Mr Daveney and his guest re-entered the dining-room--Eleanor had sunk upon a chair to receive her falling sister in her arms, Marion's face was buried in her sister's lap; Mrs Daveney, in the act of giving a musket to the Griqua, stood transfixed with awe, for she well knew what that unearthly cry portended, and Ormsby had opened the door leading to the trellised pa.s.sage, and stood there with the servants drawn up awaiting the orders of their master.

We read of the heroines of old, who armed their heroes for the battle, or went forth commanding armies; but it is not to such as these our hearts yield the tribute of earnest admiration: that calm fort.i.tude, which stands in better stead than the daring elicited by excitement-- that dignified resignation, which prepares itself to meet danger--that self-abnegation, which sets aside all difference of opinion, and unites with all ranks of life in the common cause of defence, is worth all the sudden impulses of bravery which history has immortalised. The records of our colonies would furnish forth subject-matter for many a bard; but they want, so to speak, dramatic colouring, though one would think the terrific scenes of blazing homesteads and blood-stained hearths were not without what reporters would call "effect." Verily, our English settlers' wives, with their patient, work-a-day endurance, would need the pen of a Goldsmith or a Crabbe to set them in their proper light.

Eleanor Daveney would have made a charming foreground for such a picture as men like these have loved to draw.

Mrs Daveney issued orders in conjunction with her husband, apportioned to each man his store of ammunition, loosed to the priming of the muskets in the hands of the herd-boys, who were more accustomed to the a.s.segai and the k.n.o.b-kierrie than to our firearms; but Eleanor, while she soothed her more excitable sister's fears, had a word of encouragement for every one; and, rousing Marion, bid her accompany her to the stoep, and comfort the women, who were there huddled together in mute terror.

Poor May, who, in the extremity of danger to the household, could not obtain a hearing, now rushed past the sisters like a madman, and, springing over the gateway, sped out into the wilderness. They could hear the terrier yelping at his heels ever so far, and Frankfort, thoroughly dismayed at the idea, at once gave his faithful bushman up for lost.

Eleanor had some comfort for him.

"These defiances from the hills," said she, "are so decided, that there is no doubt the a.s.segai hangs over our heads by a single hair; still the object of these creatures is plunder. When they attack the settlement, it will be in a quiet guise. If May keeps his wits about him as he used--as he used to do--he will find his way uninterrupted."

"Ah!" said Frankfort, "you have seen my friend May before?"

Eleanor hesitated, but only for a moment, and replied--

"Yes, we remember him when quite a boy."

Candour evidently prevailed over a seeming reluctance to refer to the past; and yet there was nothing singular in Eleanor Daveney's remembrance of May, who had been employed from childhood about the English quarters and locations. It was simply her sudden pause, hesitation, and hurried tone in admitting the truth, which had attracted Frankfort's notice.

Ormsby, on hearing the bushman had sped into the wilderness, grew furious with Piet, and wished Frankfort had taken his advice in forbidding Fitje's accompanying her husband. Frankfort reproached himself for not riding in the rear of the cavalcade, and keeping the party together, but time was too precious for unavailing regret; it was deemed prudent to close and secure the front of the dwelling, Eleanor consoling Marion by reminding her that, for the present, the war-cry of Kafirland was their best personal security, since "you know," said she, "that unlike the honest faces of civilised lands, the Kafir comes not with beating drum and flying standard; and the settler of South Africa is safest when face to face with his wicked neighbour. Yet," added Eleanor, "why should I call the Kafir wicked?--it is not for me to judge."

Again there arose that shrill, terrific war-cry. Marion shuddered, and wound her arms round her sister's slender waist.

"Poor wretches!" said Eleanor, lifting her mournful eyes to heaven--"poor misguided beings!" and, clasping her hands, her lips moved in inaudible prayer.

Frankfort watched her as she implored Heaven in behalf of the unhappy savages, and could not help contrasting her mild courage with her mother's authoritative air of resolution and her sister's utter helplessness and terror.

All night long the little garrison of Annerley stood to its arms, the sentinels immovable at the outposts, Daveney and Frankfort going the rounds at intervals, Ormsby in command of the party guarding the rearward premises, his head-quarters being the trellised pa.s.sage, from which he occasionally looked in upon the ladies. He had been particularly requested by his host to act under the directions of the old Griqua, who had been a soldier in the Cape Corps, and whose experience was invaluable; and, what was more than Frankfort had expected, Ormsby had the good sense to see this, and acknowledge it.

Daveney, albeit far from easy as to the safety of his family, would not permit his domestic troubles to interfere with his duties as master of a household.

Once, when on his rounds with Frankfort, he looked in upon the group, and asked how all went on. Marmion had made his way into the sitting-room, and stretched himself at Eleanor's feet, with his black muzzle to the ground, and ears and eyes wide open, keeping watch and ward over the group. Marion lay on a couch, her head pillowed on her sister's arm, and fast asleep, her ringlets hanging, all dishevelled, round her, and Mrs Daveney's anxious gaze was riveted on a loop-hole looking eastward, watching with weary heart the long-coming of the dawn.

So wore on the night. The fires on the hills died away; the gorgeous sun, opening his gates of glory, came forth to dispel the smoke and vapours that obscured the distant mountains and floated over the plains; the night sentinels were relieved, and other watches set; the house was put in order for the morning refreshment, so much needed; the herdsmen, well armed, led the cattle to the open ground fronting the settlement, and the ladies retired to their own apartments for a while.

Frankfort then expressed his deep anxiety about the missing members of his train; but as it was considered by his host highly imprudent to reduce the force of the garrison under present circ.u.mstances, there was nothing for it but to leave May to his known sagacity, and hope that old Piet had not brought himself and others into danger through his obstinacy and imprudence; for there was no denying that the vley indicated by May as the outspan was flanked on one side by a dense bush, a notorious haunt of Kafirs.

Our two sportsmen were ushered by Mr Daveney into a tolerably-sized apartment, divided by a wooden part.i.tion running little more than half way to the roof. Everything was in the most homely style, but exquisitely neat. In each domicile was a small camp bedstead, table, chair, and chest of drawers, all manufactured by their ingenious host.

Sheepskin mats were spread on the earthen floor, and the walls, originally white-washed, were gaily papered with manifold prints and engravings from some of those publications which, for the last fifteen years, have taken England and her customs through the length and breadth of the earth. The windows were, of course, partially screened by brickwork; but the sun pierced one of the loops, and shed its rays on the picture of a popular _danseuse_. Frankfort would have smiled at the a.s.sociations called forth by such an anomaly, but his heart misgave him about his faithful servant, and though he lay down, he could not rest, and he longed to start in search of May; but that would have been absurdly imprudent.

At noon the cattle herds came running in, to say that hors.e.m.e.n were in sight; and Daveney, on examining the defile behind the settlement, descried, to his great satisfaction, a party of burghers, headed by an escort of Cape cavalry.

In five minutes they were at the gate, the state of their steeds indicating sharp riding. Daveney stood with open doors ready to receive them, and the officer in command dismounted, and presented an official packet.

It announced that the Commander-in-Chief, Sir John Manvers, had reached the frontier; that, deeming it prudent to await his reinforcements, he had projected a meeting with the Kafir chiefs at the base of the Amatola range; that, for the present, open hostilities were suspended; that the Eighty --th had been selected, as the weaker corps, for garrison duty.

Daveney was instructed to put the district under his authority on the _qui vive_, and to send the General such intelligence as he could gather. It was antic.i.p.ated that the meeting in Kafirland would not tend to a peaceful result, as Sir John had to propose terms most distasteful to the tribes, who had long been bent on war. "And so," said Captain Ledyard, coolly dusting his boots on the steps, and looking round on the unfinished defences, "the sooner you throw up your outworks, Daveney, the better." Captain Ledyard had, from his bivouac at night, witnessed the warlike demonstrations on the hills, and p.r.o.nounced them as evincing the resolution of the war party in Kafirland. It was very natural to believe that the Kafir scouts had seen his fires, and carried the intelligence to the chiefs, that troops were on the march. The warriors had therefore evidently delayed offensive operations till it, was ascertained whether more were following.

"You are too well accustomed," said Ledyard, "to guard against stealthy attacks, to require any caution on that head; but it is amazing to think how these devils have supplied themselves with ammunition. Within six or seven months, they must have completely stored their magazines afresh. I see, too"--and here the colonial soldier's experienced eye scanned the defences of the homestead--"that your house is roofed with zinc; but I do not like the glen in the rear. It is well named the 'Devil's Kloof.' However, you did not choose the site of your farm yourself, my good brother-soldier, and you will make the best of it, and give your enemy a good peppering from the loops."

So saying, he entered the house, where he was introduced to the two officers, who, on hearing that their regiment was the one selected for garrison duty, resolved on not rejoining it at present. It was clear they could be useful to their host, and had more chance of smelling gunpowder where they were than if they returned to their corps.

Such refreshment as the times allowed was spread in the darkened eating-room for Captain Ledyard, while his followers bivouacked in front, and a sheep was killed, skinned, cut up, and eaten, within half an hour after the arrival of these welcome visitors.

As they were to halt till the cool of the evening, Mr Daveney proposed that poor May's footsteps should be traced, while the st.u.r.dy burghers, resting on their arms, kept guard over his people; so, with a knowing old Hottentot, and two Fingoes, the latter on foot, the host and Frankfort well mounted, pistols in their belts, and rifles slung ready for use, started for the vley, where Piet had lingered on the midnight march.

CHAPTER NINE.

THE GATHERING OF THE SETTLERS.

Anxious as Frankfort was concerning the fate of his attendants, thoughts of his host's daughter Eleanor _would_ rise as he rode silently beside Mr Daveney on the expedition in search of Piet the obstinate.

Within the last twenty-four hours of his existence a new chapter had been opened before him in his book of fate--it was not his own inditing.

Frankfort, although not the man to be attracted by a mere pretty, interesting face, had been taken by surprise in the desert. He had never been a trifler in those showy circles in which Ormsby was wont to flutter; he loved books, reflection, and but for his sporting tastes and military talent might have been considered by his brother-officers a "slow man." Albeit courteous by nature and education to the gentler s.e.x, and less uncharitable towards its failings than many more favoured than himself, he never could bring himself to "philander," as Ormsby designated flirting, for which the latter had a cruel capacity.

But this sorrowful, gentle-looking being would have drawn Frankfort to her side anywhere--so he thought.

Certainly, the circ.u.mstances attending the introduction of our travellers to this family had brought out features in the character of all, which placed them in a strong light before the young men, who naturally yielded to the influence of the fair daughters of the wilderness. Ormsby was attracted at once by the merry-eyed Marion; Frankfort's contemplative mind dwelt on the care-worn face and dignified calmness in the midst of dangers displayed by Eleanor; and now, as he rode beside her father, he found himself going back to the first moment of meeting, and counting, as it were, every link in the chain that he felt had been silently, but surely, cast around him.

Her quiet courage, her steady reasoning, her unconsciousness of display as she stood amid the clatter of arms, the centre of a group of uncouth creatures, so strongly contrasted with herself, as they received the weapons of death from her hands; the mysterious sadness that superseded all other feeling, clouding her young brow, and influencing the very tones of her voice as she addressed words of comfort and encouragement to her sister, who, like all volatile people, had been struck down at once by terror--all those attributes, so rare in woman, or so seldom developed--(perhaps for want of opportunity--that is a mighty word, though all men may not know it)--would have impressed Frankfort, had the possessor of them been the plainest woman in the world.

So he fancied. But was any man ever yet attracted _at once_ by a plain woman, simply _because_ she displayed courage, tenderness, or was visibly unhappy?

Trace the cause to what source you please, our reflective, reasonable Frankfort could not banish Eleanor from his thoughts; and he found himself replying vaguely to some of her father's remarks, till the latter, as he put his horse into a canter, observed--

"This creature, you see, is perfectly trained; he is seldom ridden by any one but my daughter Eleanor, who is an excellent horsewoman."

"Ah! he is Miss Daveney's favourite, is he?" said Frankfort, struck for the first time with the graceful action of the animal.

"My daughter _Eleanor's_," said Mr Daveney--"Mrs Lyle's."

"Mrs Lyle! I was not aware"--and a sudden glow suffused the manly face unused to blushing--"that--that the young lady was married."

"She is a widow," answered Mr Daveney; and then he abruptly changed the subject, as, settling his reins, he directed Frankfort's attention to a wild pa.s.s on the left, in which he had once had an adventure with Kafirs.

Married! a widow! so young! Frankfort was astonished--yet what was it to him?--His host evidently thought so too; for, having set him right as to his daughter's position, he began talking on other matters.