Vrouw Grobelaar and Her Leading Cases Part 10

"'Have you got him?' he cried.

"'Yes,' answered the boy; 'I am holding him up, but he is still alive.'

"'Can he stand?' cried the old man.

"'No,' came the answer from the water.

"'Then drown him,' commanded the father. 'I will come down and help.'

"When he had climbed down into the water again Koos laid the girl down. She was still white; her senses had fled.

Presently as he was binding his leg he heard the father say--

"'Now raise him a little, and I will shoot again to make sure'; and immediately the sound of shot burst out. At this the girl opened her eyes, and Koos, looking at her, saw with astonishment that she smiled.

"'Have you killed him, Koos?' she asked very gently.

"'Be quiet,' answered Koos.

"'But tell me,' she persisted.

"'Yes.' he replied at length.

"She closed her eyes and sighed. 'That was cruel,' she said; 'I loved him so.'

"But she sat up again as the old father and the lad dragged the body out of the water.

"'Four wounds,' panted the old man. 'Not one of us missed.

That was very good, considering the darkness.' And as he flung the bleeding corpse down he turned upon Christina.

"'Here,' he cried, calling her by a dreadful word of shame.

'Here is your husband.'

"'Father,' said young Hendrik, 'there is money in his pockets. If I take it people will say this was done by Kafirs.'

"'Take it then,' said the old man, and when the boy had emptied the pockets he bade him throw the money into the stream.

"Then they mounted and rode away, but not homewards. They rode across the stream to cross it twenty miles down, that their spoor should not betray them.

"And as Koos told me, while his eyes glazed, he turned and looked back, and there he saw Christina with the Englishman's head on her lap, looking after them with a face that set him trembling."

As the old lady concluded I pa.s.sed an arm round Katje.

A GOOD END

One of the most awe-inspiring traits of the Vrouw Grobelaar was her familiarity with the subject of death. She had a discriminating taste in corpses, and remembered of several old friends only the figure they cut when the life was gone from them. She was as opinionative in this regard as in all others; she had her likes and dislikes, and it is my firm belief to this day that she never rose to such heights of conversational greatness as when attending a death-bed. It is on record that more than one invalid was relieved of all desire to live after being prepared for dissolution by the Vrouw Grobelaar.

On the evening following the burial of Katrina Potgieter's baby, which died of drinking water after a surfeit of dried peaches, the old lady was in great feather. Never were her reminiscences so ghoulish and terrifying, and never did she hurl her weighty moralities over so wide a scope.

Eventually she lapsed into criticism, and announced that the art of dying effectively was little practiced nowadays.

"I hate to see a person slink out of life," she said. "Give me a man or a woman that knows all clearly to the last, and gives other people an opportunity to see some little way into eternity. After all, there's nothing more in dying than changing the style of one's clothes, and even the most paltry folk have some consideration as corpses. I can't see what there is to be afraid of."

"I don't think that," observed Katje. "Even if it wasn't that I was soon to be dead and buried, the whole business seems horrible. Fancy all the people crowding round to look at you and cry, while they talked as if you were already dead. When Polly Honiball was dying, old Vrouw Meyers asked her if she could see anything yet. Ugh!"

The old lady shook her head. "That's not the way to look at it," she replied. "A good death is the sign of a good life; or anyhow, that's how people judge it. It's as well to give no room for talk afterwards, Katje. And as for the mere death, no good Christian fears that. Why, I have known a man seek death!"

"Did he kill himself?" inquired Katje.

"Kill himself! Indeed he didn't. That would be a crime, and a dreadful scandal. No, he took death by the hand in a most seemly and respectable way, and his family were always thought the better of for it.

"Yes, I'll tell you about it. It will be a lesson to you, Katje, and I hope you will think about it and take it to heart.

"The man I am talking about was Mynheer Andries van der Linden, a most G.o.dly and prosperous Burgher, whose farm was on the High Veld. All the days of his life he walked uprightly, and married twice. His sons and daughters were many, and all good, save for one sidelong skellum, Piet, his second son, who afterwards went to live among the English. He had cattle and sheep at pasture for miles, and a kerk on his land, where his nephew, the Predikant, used to preach. And by reason of his sanct.i.ty and cleverness Andries grew richer and richer till the Burghers respected him so much that they made him a commandant and a member of the Church Council.

"All prospered with him, as I was telling you, until one day it seemed as if G.o.d's hand had fallen from him. He was smitten with a disease of which not the oldest woman in the district had ever seen the like, and his own flesh became a curse to him. The very marrow in his bones bred fire to feed on his body, and he lay on his bed in the torments of h.e.l.l. For weeks he writhed and screamed like a madman, tossing on his blankets and tearing at his body, or struggling and howling as his sons held him down for fear he should injure himself in his frenzy. The whole thing was very terrible and mysterious; and it was said among the farms that Andries van der Linden could not have been so good after all, or G.o.d would not thus visit him with such a scourge.

"For myself, I never believed this, and what he afterwards did will show that I had the right of it. Still, good or bad, the affliction was undeniable, for I myself heard him screaming like a beast as I drove to Nachtmaal.

"The malady lasted for months, and all herbs and pills that were given him did not an atom of good. Even the Kafirs could do nothing, though Klein Andries, the old man's eldest son and a good lad, caught a witch-doctor and sjamboked him to pieces to make him help. In short, the illness was plainly beyond mortal cure, and the old man at last came to see this.

"I should have told you that he had times of peace, when the agony forsook him, and left him limp like a wet clout.

Then he would sweat and quake with terror of the pains that would return; and so pitiful was his condition that he could not even listen with a proper patience to the reading of Scripture or the singing of David's psalms. You will see from this what a terrible visitation to a G.o.d-fearing man this illness was.

"So he made up his mind. One morning early, while quietness was with him, he called for Klein Andries and bade him shut the door of the room.

"'Andries,' he said, 'I have been thinking the matter to a finish, and I am determined to have an end to this torment.'

"'Have you found any means?' began Klein Andries.

"'Listen,' said the old man. 'It is plain to me, that I shall gain no cure on earth, and I have decided to die. So I shall die at the end of a week about two hours after sunrise.'

"Andries was of course very much taken aback. 'I do not understand,' he said. 'You cannot mean to kill yourself?'

"'Of course not,' answered the old man. 'That will be your part.'

"'How do you mean?' cried Andries.

"'I shall lie here in my bed, with clean pillows and fresh sheets, and the best coverlet. Our people will all be here,--you will see to that,--and when I have spoken to them and shaken their hands, you shall bring in your rifle--'

"'That will do,' said Klein Andries. 'You need tell me no more. I will not do it.'

"'But you are my first-born,' said the father.

"'It is all the same; I will not do it.'

"'Then you can get out of my house, with your wife and your children, and go look for a stone on which to lay your heads.'

"'That is very easy,' answered Klein Andries, quite calmly.

'No doubt we shall find that stone you speak of.'