When The Lion Feeds Part 22

Mbejane's Zulus were adding their voices to the confusion. Let us go down to them now, Nkosi. They are close, let us go. Quiet down, you madmen, you'd not go a hundred paces against those rifles, Sean snarled impatiently. Sean, cover me, whispered Duff. I'm going to sneak round the back of the ridge, rush them from the side and lob a few sticks of dynamite into that donga.. Sean caught his arm, his fingers dug into it so that Duff winced. You take one step and I'll break a rifle b.u.t.t over your head, you're as bad as those Blacks. Now keep shooting and let me think. Sean peered over the top of the boiler but ducked again as a bullet rang loudly against it, inches from his ear. He stared at the new paint in front of his nose, put his shoulder against it; the boiler rocked slightly. He looked up and Duff was watching him. We'll walk down together and lob that dynamite, Sean told him. Mbejane and his bloodthirsty heathens will roll the boiler in front of us. These other gentlemen will cover us, we'll do this thing in style. Sean called the Zulus out of the trench and explained to them. They chorused their approval of the scheme and jostled each other to find a place to push against the boiler. Sean and Duff filled the front of their shirts with the dynamite grenades and lit a short length of tarred rope each.

Sean nodded to Mbejane.

Where are the children of Zulu? sang Mbejane, shrilling his voice in the ancient rhetorical question. Here, answered his warriors braced ready against the boiler. JWhere are the spears of Zulu? Here. How bright are the spears of Zulu? Brighter than the Sun.

How hungry are the spears of Zulu? Hungrier than the locust. Then let us take them to the feeding. Tehho. Explosive a.s.sent and the boiler revolved slowly to the thrust of black shoulders.

Teh-ho. Another reluctant revolution.

Teh-ho. It --moved more readily.

Teh-ho. Gravity caught it. Ponderously it b.u.mped down the slope and they ran behind it. The fire from the donga doubled its volume, rattling like hail against the huge metal cylinder. The singing of the Zulus changed its tone also; the deep-voiced chanting quickened, climbed excitedly, and became the blood trill. That insane, horrible squealing made Sean's skin crawl, tickled his spine with the ghost fingers of memory, but it inflamed him also. His mouth opened and he squealed with them. He touched the first grenade with the burning rope then flung it in a high spluttering sparking arc. It burst in the air above the donga. He threw again. Crump, crump. Duff was using his explosive as well. The boiler crashed over the lip of the donga and came to rest in a cloud of dust; the Zulus followed it in, spreading out, still shrieking, and now their a.s.segais were busy. The white men broke, clawed frantically out of the ravine and fled, the Zulus hacking at them as they ran.

When Francois arrived with fifty armed diggers following him the fight was over. Take your boys down to the camps. Comb them out carefully. We want every one of those that got away, Duff told him. It's about time we had a little law and order on this field. How will we pick out the ones that were in on it?

asked Francois.

By their white faces and the sweat on their shirts you will know them. , Duff answered.

Francois and his men went, leaving Sean and Duff to clean up the battlefield. It was a messy job, the stabbing spears had made it so. They destroyed those horses that the blast had left still half alive and they gleaned more than a dozen corpses from the donga and the slope below it. Two of them were Zulus. The wounded, and there were many, they packed into a wagon and took them down to Candy's Hotel.

It was early afternoon by the time they arrived. They threaded the wagon through the crowd and stopped it in front of the Hotel. It seemed the entire population of the goldfield was there, packed around the small open s.p.a.ce in which Francois was holding his prisoners.

Francois was almost hysterical with excitement. He was sweeping the shotgun around in dangerous circles as he harangued the crowd. Then he darted back to prod one of the prisoners with the twin muzzles. You thunders, he screamed. Steal our claims, hey steal our claims.

At that moment he caught sight of Duff and Sean bringing the wagon through the press. Duff, Duff. We got them. We got the whole lot of them. The crowd backed respectfully away from the menace of that circling shotgun and Sean flinched as it pointed directly at him for a second.. I see, Francois, Duff a.s.sured him. in fact, I have seldom seen anyone more completely had.

Francois's prisoners were swathed in ropes; they could move only their heads and as additional security a digger with a loaded rifle stood over each of them. Duff climbed down off the wagon.

don't you think you should slacken those ropes a little? Duff asked dubiously.

And have them escape? Francois was indignant. Do you think they'd get very far? tNo, I don't suppose so. Well, another half hour and they'll all have gangrene look at that one's hand already, a beautiful shade of blue. Reluctantly Francois conceded and told his men to untie them.

Duff pushed his way through the crowd and climbed the steps of the Hotel. From there he held up his hands for silence. There have been a lot of men killed today, we don't want it to happen again. One way we can prevent it is to make sure that this lot get what they deserve Cheers were led by Francois. But we must do it properly. I suggest we elect a committee to deal with this affair and with any other problems that crop up on these fields. Say ten members and a chairman.

More cheers. Call it the Diggers Committee, shouted someone and the crowd took up the name enthusiastically. All right, the Diggers Committee it is. Now we want a chairman, any suggestions?

Mr Charleywood, shouted Francois. Yes, Duff, he'll do. Yes, Duff Charleywood. Any other suggestions?

No, roared the crowd. Thank you, gentlemen. Duff smiled at them. I am sensible of the honour. Now, ten members Jock and Trevor Heyns. Karl Lochtkamper. Francois du Toit. Sean Courtney. There were fifty nominations. Duff baulked at counting votes so the committee was elected by applause. He called the names one at a time and judged the strength of the response to each. Sean and Francois were among those elected. Chairs and a table were brought out onto the veranda and Duff took his seat. With a water-jug he hamInered for silence, declared the first session of the DiggersCommittee open and then immediately fined three members of the crowd ten pounds each for discharging firearms during a meeting, gross contempt of Committee. The fines were paid and a proper air of solemnity achieved.

I'll ask Mr Courtney to open the case for the, prosecution.

Sean stood up and gave a brief description of the morning's battle, ending You were there, Your Honour, so you know all about it anyway. So I was, agreed Duff. Thank you, Mr Courtney. I think that was a very fair picture you presented. Now, he looked at the prisoners, who speaks for you? There was a minute of shuffling and whispering then one of them was pushed forward. He pulled off his hat and blushed purple. Your Worship, he began, then stopped, wriggling with embarra.s.sment. Your worship. You've said that already. I don't rightly know where to begin, Mr Charleywood I mean Your Honour, sir.

Duff looked at the prisoners again. Perhaps you'd like to reconsider your choice. Their first champion was withdrawn in disgrace and a fresh one sent forward to face the Committee. He had more fire. You b.a.s.t.a.r.ds got no right to do this to us, he started and Duff promptly fined him ten pounds. His next attempt was more polite. Your Honour, you can't do this to us. We had our rights, you know, that new proclamation and all, I mean, them old t.i.tles wasn't legal no more now, was they? We just came along as peaceful as you please, the old t.i.tles not being legal, we got a right to do what we done. Then you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, I mean Your Honour, dynamited us and like we had a right to protect ourselves, I mean after all, didn't we, sir? A brilliant defence most ably conducted. Your fellows should be grateful to you, Duff complimented him, then turned to his Committee. Well now, how say you merry gentlemen. Guilty or not guilty? Guilty. They spoke together and Francois added for emphasis, the dirty thunders. We will now consider sentence. String them up, shouted someone and instantly the mood changed. The mob growled: an ugly sound. I'm a carpenter, I'll whip you up a handsome set of gallows in no time at all. Don't waste good wood on them. Use a treeGet the ropes. String them up. The crowd surged in, lynch mad. Sean s.n.a.t.c.hed Franco is's shotgun and jumped up onto the table. So help me G.o.d, I'll shoot the first one of you that touches them before this court says so. They checked and Sean pressed his advantage. At this range I can't miss.

Come on, try me, there's two loads of buckshot in here.

Someone will get cut in half. They fell back still muttering. Perhaps you've forgotten, but there's a police force in this country and there's a law against killing. Hang them today and it'll be your turn tomorrow! You're right, Mr Courtney, it'll be cruel heartless murder. That it will, wailed the spokesman. Shut up, you b.l.o.o.d.y fool, Duff snarled at him and someone in the crowd laughed. The laughter caught on and Duff sighed silently with relief. That had been very close. Give them the old tar and feathers. Duff grinned. Now you're talking sense. Who's got a few barrels of tar for sale! He looked round. What, no offers? Then we'll have to think of something else! We got ten drums of red paint, thirty shillings each, good imported brand. Duff recognized the speaker as a trader who had opened a general dealer's store down at Ferrieras Camp. Mr Tarry suggests paint. What about it? No, it comes off too easily, that's no goodI'll let you have it cheap, twenty-five shillings a drum No, stick your ruddy paint, the crowd booed him. Give them a twist on Satan's Roulette Wheel, shouted another voice, and the crowd clamoured agreement. That's it, give them the wheel. Round and round and round she goes, where she stops n.o.body knows, roared a black-bearded digger from the roof of the shanty across the road. The crowd howled.

Sean watched Duff's expression, the smile had gone.

He was weighing it up. If he stopped them again they might lose all patience and risk the shotgun. He couldn't chance it. All right. If that's what you want. He faced the terrified cl.u.s.ter of prisoners. The sentence of this court is that you play roulette with the devil for one hour and that you then leave this goldfield, if we catch you back here again you'll get another hour of it. The wounded are excused the first half of the sentence. I think they've had enough. Mr du Toit will supervise the punishment. We'd prefer the paint, Mr Charleywood, pleaded the spokesman again. I bet you would, said Duff softly, but the crowd was carrying them away already, out towards the open veld beyond the Hotel. Most of them had staked claims of their own and they didn't like claim jumpers. Sean climbed down off the table.

Let's go and have a drink, Duff said to him.

Aren't you going to watch? asked Sean. I've seen it done once before down in the Cape. That was enough. What do they do? Go and have a look, I'll be waiting for you at the Bright Angels. I'll be surprised if you stay the full hour. By the time Sean joined the crowd most of the wagons had been gathered from the camps and drawn up in a line.

Men swarmed round them fitting jacks under the axles to lift the big back wheels clear of the ground. Then the prisoners were hustled forward, one to each wheel. Eager hands lifted them and held them while their wrists and ankles were lashed to the rim of the wheel with the hub in the middle of their backs and their arms and legs spread-eagled like stranded starfish. Francois hurried along the line checking the ropes and placing four diggers at each wheel, two to start it and another two to take over when those were tired. He reached the end, came back to the centre again, pulled his watch from his pocket, checked the time, then shouted. All right, turn them, kerels The wheels started moving, slowly at first then faster as they built up momentum. The bodies strapped to them blurred with the speed. Round and round and round she goes, round and round and round she goes, chanted the crowd gleefully.

Within minutes there was a burst of laughter from the end of the line of wagons. Someone had started vomiting, it sprayed from him like yellow sparks from a Catherine wheel. Then another and another joined in, Sean could hear them retching and gasping as the centrifugal force flung the vomit up against the back of their throats and out of their noses. He waited a few more minutes but when their bowels started to empty he turned away gagging and headed for the Bright Angel.

Did you enjoy it? asked Duff.

Give me a brandy, answered Sean.

With the Diggers Committee dispensing rough justice a semblance of order came to the camps. President Kruger wanted no part in policing the nest of ruffians and cutthroats which was growing up just outside his Capital and he contented himself with placing his spies among them and leaving them to work out their own salvation. After all, the field was far from proved and the chances were that in another year the veld would again be as deserted as it had been nine months before. He could afford to wait; in the meantime the Diggers Committee had his tar-it sanction.

While the ants worked, cutting down into the reef with pick and with dynamite, the gra.s.shoppers waited in the bars and shanties. So far only the Jack and Whistle min was turning out gold, and only Hradsky and Francois du Toit knew how much gold was coming out of it. Hradsky was still in Capetown crusading for capital and Francois spoke to no one, not even to Duff, about the mill's productivity.

The rumours flew like sand in a whirlwind. One day it seemed that the reef had pinched out fifty feet below the surface, and the next the canteens buzzed with the news that the Heyns brothers had gone down a hundred feet and were pulling out nuggets the size of musket b.a.l.l.s.

n.o.body knew but everybody was prepared to guess.

Up at the Candy Deep, Duff and Sean worked on relentlessly. The mill took shape on its concrete platform, its jaws open for the first bite at the rock. The boiler was swung up onto its cradle by twenty sweating, singing Zulus. The copper tables were fitted up ready to be smeared with quicksilver. There was no time to worry about the reef nor the dwindling store of money in Sean's cash belt. They worked and they slept, there was nothing else. Duff took to sharing Sean's tent up on the ridge and Candy had her featherbed to herself again.

On the twentieth of November they fired the boiler for the first time. Tired and h.o.r.n.y-handed, their bodies lean and tempered hard with toil, they stood together and watched the needle creek up round the pressure gauge until it touched the red line at the top.

Duff grunted. Well, at least we've got power now. Then he punched Sean's shoulder What the h.e.l.l are you standing here for, do you think this is a Sunday School picnic? There's work to do, laddie. On the second of December they fed the mill its first meal and watched the powdered rock flow across the amalgam tables.

Sean threw his arm round Duff's neck in an affectionate half-Nelson, Duff hit him in the stomach and pulled his hat down over his eyes, they drank a gla.s.s of brandy each at supper and laughed a little but that was all. They were too tired to celebrate. From now on one of them must be in constant attendance on that iron monster. Duff took the first night shift and when Sean went up to the mill, next morning he found him weaving on his feet, his eyes sunk deep in dark sockets. By my reckoning we've run ten tons of rock through her. Time to clean the tables and see just how much gold we've picked up. You go and get some sleep, said Sean and Duff ignored him.

Mbejane, bring a couple of your savages here, we're going to change the tables. Listen, Duff, it can wait an hour or two. Go and get your head down. Please stop drivelling, you're as bad as a wife Sean shrugged. Have it your own way, show me how you do it then. They switched the flow of powdered rock onto the second table that was standing ready; then with a broad bladed spatula Duff sc.r.a.ped the mercury off the copper top of the first table, collecting it in a ball the size of a coconut. The mercury picks up the tiny particles of gold, he explained to Sean as he worked, and lets the grains of rock wash across the table and fall off into the dump. Of course it doesn't collect it all, some of it goes to waste. How do you get the gold out again? You put the whole lot in a retort and boil off the mercury, the gold stays behind. h.e.l.l of a waste of mercury, isn't it? No, you catch it as it condenses and use it again. Come on, I'l show you. Duff carried the ball of amalgam down to the shed, placed it in the retort and lit the blow-lamp. With the heat on it the ball dissolved and started to bubble. Silently they stared at it. The level in the retort fell.

Where's the gold? Sean asked at last. Oh, shut up, Duff snapped impatiently, and then, repentant, Sorry, laddie, I feel a bit jaded this morning. The last of the mercury steamed off and there it was, glowing bright, molten yellow. A drop of gold the size of a pea. Duff shut off the blow-lamp and neither of them spoke for a while. , Then Sean asked, Is that all? That, my friend, is all, agreed Duff wearily. rWhat do you want to do with it, fill a tooth? He turned towards the door with a droop to his whole body. Keep the mill running we might as well go down with our colours flying.

It was a miserable Christmas dinner. They ate it at Candy's Hotel. They had credit there. She gave Duff a gold signet ring and Sean a box of cigars. Sean had never smoked before but now the sting of it in his lungs gave him a certain m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.tic pleasure. The dining-room roared with men's voices and cutlery clatter, the air was thick with the smell of food and tobacco smoke while in one corner, marooned on a little island of gloom, sat Sean, Duff and Candy.

Once Sean lifted his gla.s.s at Duff and spoke like an undertaker's clerk. Happy Christmas Duff's lips twitched back in a dead m in's grin. And the same to you. They drank. Then Duff roused himself to speak. Tell me again, how much have we got left? I like to hear you say it; you have a beautiful voice, you should have played Shakespeare. Three pounds and sixteen shillings. Yes, yes, you got it just right that time, three pounds and sixteen shillings, now to really make me feel Christma.s.sy, tell me how much we owe. Have another drink, Sean changed the subject.

Yes, I think I will, thank you, Oh please, you two, let's just forget about it for today, pleaded Candy. I planned for it to be such a nice party look, there's Francois! Hey, Francois, over here!

The dapper du Toit bustled across to their table. Happy Christmas, kerels, let me buy you a drinkIt's nice to see you. Candy gave him a kiss. How are you? You're looking fine. Francois sobered instantly. It's funny you should say that, Candy. As a matter of fact I'm a bit worried. He tapped his chest and sank down into an empty chair. My heart, you know, I've been waiting for it to happen, and then yesterday I was up at the mill, just standing there, you understand, when suddenly it was as though a vice was squeezing my chest. I couldn't breathe, well, not very well anyway. Naturally I hurried back to my tent and looked it up. Page eighty-three. Under "Diseases of the Heart". He shook his head sadly. It's very worrying.

You know I wasn't a well man before, but now this. Oh, no, wailed Candy. I can't stand it, not you too.

I'M sorry, have I said something wrong? Just in keeping with the festive spirit at this table. She pointed at Duff and Sean. Look at their happy faces, if you'll excuse me I'm going to check up in the kitchen.