All that night and all next day rain came down on the land in continuous floods. The settlers had previously1 been visited with occasional storms, which had roused some alarm among the timid and done a little damage, but nothing like this had yet befallen them. The water appeared to descend2 in sheets, and not only did the great rivers wax alarmingly, but every rill and watercourse became a brawling3 river.
The Skyds, and one or two others who, like themselves, had built too near the edge of streams, were the first to suffer.
“This won’t do,” said John Skyd, on the evening of the second day, as he and his brothers sat in front of their cavern4 gazing at the turbid5 river, which, thick and yellow as pea-soup, was hurrying trees, bushes, and wrack6 in formidable masses to the sea. “We must shift our abode7. Come along.”
Without a word more the brothers entered their cave, and began to carry out their goods and chattels8. They were strong and active, but they had miscalculated the rapidity of the flood. Fortunately most of their valuables were removed to higher ground in time, but before all was got out a sudden increase in the rushing river sent a huge wave curling round the entire piece of ground on which their farm lay. It came on with devastating9 force, bearing produce, fences, fruit-trees, piggeries, and every movable thing on its foaming10 crest12. The brothers dropped their loads and ran. Next moment the cavern was hollowed out to twice its former size, and the sofa, the rude cupboard, the sea-chest, and family bed were seen, with all the miscellaneous improprieties, careering madly down the yellow flood.
In their trousers and shirt-sleeves—for they had thrown off their coats, as all active men do in an emergency—the brothers watched the demolition13 of their possessions and hopes in solemn silence.
“I think,” said John at length, with a sigh, “I’ve made up my mind to join Frank Dobson now.”
Bob and Jim smiled grimly, but said never a word.
Meanwhile the settlers of Mount Hope farm were not idle. Although not fully14 alive to the danger of the storm, they saw enough to induce a course of rapid action. Goods and cattle were removed from low-lying buildings to higher ground, but the dwelling15-house, being on the highest point in the neighbourhood—with the exception of the hills themselves—was deemed safe.
In these arrangements the family were ably assisted by the unexpected accession of their friends. Hans, Considine, and Dobson taxed their activity and strength to the utmost, so that things were soon put in a state of security. Dobson did, indeed, think once or twice of his old chums on the river, but a feeling of gallantry prevented his deserting the ladies in the midst of danger, and besides, he argued, the Skyds are well able to look after themselves.
Just as this thought passed through his mind the chums in question appeared upon the scene, announcing the fact that their entire farm had been swept away, and that the water was still rising.
“Well, it can’t rise much higher now,” said Edwin Brook16, after condoling17 with his young friends on their misfortunes, “and the moment it begins to abate18 we shall go down to save all we can of your property. You know, my poor fellows, that I shall be only too glad to help you to the utmost of my power in such a sad extremity19 as this.”
The brothers thanked their neighbour, and meanwhile aided the others in removing the farm-produce and implements20 to higher ground.
Night at length settled down on the scene, and the wearied party returned to the cottage for food and rest.
“Do you think, Mr Marais,” said Gertie, looking up timidly at the handsome young Dutchman, “that the worst of it is over?”
Hans, who felt somewhat surprised and chilled by the “Mister,” replied that he hoped it was.
But Hans was wrong. Late that night, after they had all lain down to rest, Edwin Brook, feeling sleepless21 and uneasy, rose to look out at the window. All was comparatively still, and very dark. There was something grey on the ground, he thought, but judged it to be mist. The noise of the storm, with the exception of rushing streams, had gone down, and though it still rained there was nothing very unusual to cause alarm. He lay down again and tried to sleep, but in vain. Then he thought he heard the sound of the river louder than before. At the same time there was a noise that resembled the lapping of water round the frame of the house.
Jumping up, he ran to his door, opened it, discovered that the supposed mist was water, and that his dwelling was an island in a great sea.
To shout and rouse the household was the work of an instant. His guests were men of promptitude. They had merely thrown themselves down in their clothes, and appeared in an instant. Mrs Brook and Gertie were also ready, but Mrs Scholtz, being fond of comfort, had partially22 undressed, and was distracted between a wild effort to fasten certain garments, and restrain Junkie, who, startled by the shout, was roaring lustily.
“Not a moment to lose!” said Brook, running hastily into the room, where all were now assembled. “Everything is lost. We must think only of life. Lend a helping23 hand to the women, friends—mind the boy.—Come, wife.”
Brook was sharp, cool, and decisive in his manner. Seizing his wife round the waist, he hurried her out into the dark night, stepping, as he did so, above the ankles in rising water.
Dobson, Considine, and the three brothers turned with a mutual24 impulse towards Gertie, but Hans Marais had already taken possession of her, and, almost carrying her in his powerful arms, followed her father.
“Come, my howlin’ toolip,” said George Dally25, “you’re my special and precious charge. Shut up, will you!”
He seized the child and bore him away with such violence that the howling was abruptly26 checked; while Scholtz, quietly gathering27 his still half-clad spouse28 under an arm, followed with heavy stride.
The others, each seizing the object that in his eyes appeared to be most valuable—such as a desk or workbox,—sprang after the household and left the house to its fate. They first made for the cattle-kraals, but these were already flooded and the cattle gone. Then they tried a barn which stood a little higher, but it was evidently no place of refuge, for the stream just there was strong, and broke against it with violence.
“To the hills,” shouted Hans, lifting Gertie off the ground altogether, as if she had been a little child.
There was no time for ceremony. Edwin Brook lifted his wife in the same manner, for the water was deepening at every step, and the current strengthening. The darkness, which had appeared dense29 at first, seemed to lighten as they became accustomed to it, and soon a terrible state of things became apparent. Turbid water was surging among the trees and bushes everywhere, and rushing like a mill-race in hollows. One such hollow had to be crossed before the safety of the hills could be gained. The water reached Edwin’s waist as he waded30 through. To prevent accident, John Skyd and Considine waded alongside and supported him. James Skyd performed the same office for Hans, and Bob waded just below Scholtz and his burden—which latter, in a paroxysm of alarm, still tried frantically31 to complete her toilet.
The hills were reached at last, and the whole party was safe—as far, at least, as the flood was concerned—but a terrible prospect32 lay before them. The farm of Mount Hope was by that time a sea of tumultuous water, which seemed in the darkness of the night to be sweeping33 away and tearing up trees, bushes, and houses. Behind and around them were the hills, whose every crevice34 and hollow was converted into a wild watercourse. Above was the black sky, pouring down torrents35 of rain incessantly37, so that the very ground seemed to be turning into mud, and slipping away from beneath their feet. Fortunately there was no wind.
“To spend the night here will be death to the women and child,” said Edwin Brook, as they gathered under a thick bush which formed only a partial shelter; “yet I see no way of escape. Soaked as they are, a cavern, even if we can find one, will not be of much service, for our matches are hopelessly wet.”
“We must try to reach Widow Merton’s farm,” said John Skyd. “It is only three miles off and stands on highish ground.”
“It’s a bad enough road by daylight in fine weather,” said George Dally, on whose broad shoulder Junkie had fallen sound asleep, quite regardless of damp or danger, “but in a dark night, with a universal flood, it seems to me that it would be too much for the ladies. I know a cave, now, up on the hill-side, not far off, which is deep, an’ like to be dryish—”
“Never do,” interrupted Hans Marais, to whose arm Gertie clung with a feeling that it was her only hope; “they’d die of cold before morning. We must keep moving.”
“Yes, let us try to reach the widow’s farm,” said poor Mrs Brook anxiously, “I feel stronger, I think; I can walk now.”
“Zee vidow is our only chanze.—Hold up, mein vrow,” said Scholtz, taking a firmer grasp of his wife, who, having leisure to think and look about her now, felt her heart begin to fail. “I know zee road vell,” continued Scholtz. “It is bad, but I have zeen vurse. Ve must carry zee vimen. Zey could not valk.”
As the women made no objection, those who had carried them from the house again raised them in their arms—Mrs Scholtz insisting, however, on being treated a little less like a sack of old clothes—and the march along the hill-side was begun.
George Dally, knowing the way best, was set in advance to take the responsibility of guide as well as the risk of being swept away while fording the torrents. The brothers Skyd, being free from precious burdens, marched next, to be ready to support the guide in case of accident, and to watch as well as guard the passage of dangerous places by those in rear. Then followed in succession Mr Brook with his wife, Charlie Considine, Hans with Gertie, and Scholtz with his vrow, the procession closing with Frank Dobson and Junkie, the latter having been transferred to Frank when Dally took the lead.
It was a slow as well as dangerous march on that dreary38 night, because every step had to be taken with care, and the rivulets39, white though they were with foam11, could scarcely be seen in the thick darkness. Many a fall did they get, too, and many a bruise40, though fortunately no bones were broken. Once George Dally, miscalculating the depth of a savage41 little stream, stepped boldly in and was swept away like a flash of light. Jack42 Skyd made a grasp at him, lost his balance and followed. For a moment the others stopped in consternation43, but they were instantly relieved by hearing a laugh from George a few yards down the stream as he assisted Skyd to land. At another time Scholtz was not careful enough to follow exactly in the footsteps of Hans, and, while crossing a torrent36, he put his foot in a deep hole and went down to the armpits, thereby44 immersing his vrow up to her neck. A wild shriek45 from the lady was followed by “Zounds! hold me op!” from the man.
Hans turned short round, stretched out his long right arm—the left being quite sufficient to support Gertie,—and, seizing the German’s shaggy hair with a mighty46 grip, held on till one of the Skyds returned to the rescue.
It was also a melancholy47 march on that dismal48 night, for poor Edwin Brook was well aware, and fully alive to the fact, that he was a ruined man. His labour for the previous three years was totally lost, and his property swept entirely49 away. Only life was spared,—but for that he felt so thankful as to feel his losses slightly at the time. The brothers Skyd were also painfully alive to the fact that they were ruined, and as they staggered and stumbled along, a sinking of heart unusual to their gay and cheerful natures seemed to have the effect of sinking their steps deeper in the soft mire50 through which they waded.
Only two of the party were in any degree cheerful. Gertie, although overwhelmed by the sudden calamity51, which she had yet very imperfectly realised, felt a degree of comfort—a sort of under-current of peace—at being borne so safely along in such powerful arms; and Hans Marais, huge and deep-chested though he was, felt a strange and mysterious sensation that his heart had grown too large for his body that night. It perplexed52 him much at the time, and seemed quite unaccountable!
The storm had revelled53 furiously round the widow Merton’s wattle-and-dab cottage, and the water had risen to within a few feet of its foundations, but the effect on her mind was as nothing compared with that produced by the sudden storming of her stronghold by the Mount Hope family in the dead of night, or rather in the small hours of morning. The widow was hospitable54. She and her sons at once set about making the unfortunates as comfortable as the extent of their habitation and the state of their larder55 would admit.
But the widow Merton was not the only one of the Albany settlers who had to offer hospitality during the continuance of that terrible catastrophe56 of 1823, and Edwin Brook’s was not the only family that was forced to accept it.
All over the land the devastating flood passed like the besom of destruction. Hundreds of those who had struggled manfully against the blight57 of the wheat crops, and Kafir thefts, and bandit raids, and oppression on the part of those who ought to have afforded aid and protection, were sunk to the zero of misfortune and despair by this overwhelming calamity, for in many cases the ruin was total and apparently58 irremediable. Everywhere standing59 crops, implements of husbandry, and even dwellings60, were swept away, and whole families found themselves suddenly in a state of utter destitution61. The evil was too wide-spread to admit of the few who were fortunate enough to escape rendering62 effectual assistance to the many sufferers, for it was obvious that hundreds of pounds would not be sufficient to succour the infant colony.
In this extremity God’s opportunity was found. The hearts of men and women far away, at Capetown, in India, and in England, were touched by the story of distress63; generosity64 was awakened65 and purses were opened. Men such as HE Rutherfoord of Capetown, the Reverend Doctor Philip, the Reverend W Shaw, and others like-minded, entered heartily66 into the work of charity, and eventually some ten thousand pounds were distributed among those who had suffered. To many this was as life from the dead. Some who would never have recovered the blow took heart again, braced67 their energies anew, and ere long the wattle-and-dab cottages were rebuilt, the gardens replanted, and the lands cultivated as before.
The existence of the settlement was saved, but its prosperity was not yet secured. The battle had gone sorely against the valiant68 band of immigrants, and very nearly had they been routed, but the reinforcements had enabled them to rally and renew the fight. Still, it was a fight, and much time had yet to come and go before they could sit down in the sunshine of comparative peace and enjoy the fruits of their industry.
Meanwhile the oppressions and mismanagements of the Colonial Government went on as before. It were useless in a tale like this to inflict69 details on our readers. Suffice it to say that in the distribution of lands, in treaties with the Kafirs, in the formation of laws for the protection of Hottentots and slaves, in the treatment of the settlers, a state of things was brought about which may be described as confusion worse confounded, and the oppressed people at last demanded redress70 with so loud a voice that it sounded in England, and produced the Royal Commission of Investigation71 already referred to in a previous chapter.
The arrival of the gentlemen composing this Commission followed close on the Floods of 1823. The event, long looked for and anxiously desired, was hailed with a degree of eager delight scarcely to be understood except by those who had gone through the previous years of high-handed oppression, of weary wrangling72 and appeal, and of that hope deferred73 which maketh the heart sick. Expectation was raised to the highest pitch, and when it was heard that the Commissioners74 had reached Capetown preparations were made in Grahamstown to give them a warm reception.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
previously
|
|
| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
descend
|
|
| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
brawling
|
|
| n.争吵，喧嚷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
cavern
|
|
| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
turbid
|
|
| adj.混浊的，泥水的，浓的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
wrack
|
|
| v.折磨；n.海草 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
abode
|
|
| n.住处，住所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
chattels
|
|
| n.动产，奴隶( chattel的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
devastating
|
|
| adj.毁灭性的，令人震惊的，强有力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
foaming
|
|
| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
foam
|
|
| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
crest
|
|
| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
demolition
|
|
| n.破坏,毁坏,毁坏之遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
brook
|
|
| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
condoling
|
|
| v.表示同情，吊唁( condole的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
18
abate
|
|
| vi.(风势，疼痛等)减弱，减轻，减退 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
extremity
|
|
| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
implements
|
|
| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
sleepless
|
|
| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
partially
|
|
| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
mutual
|
|
| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
dally
|
|
| v.荒废(时日)，调情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
spouse
|
|
| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
waded
|
|
| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
frantically
|
|
| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
sweeping
|
|
| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
crevice
|
|
| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
torrents
|
|
| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
torrent
|
|
| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
incessantly
|
|
| ad.不停地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
rivulets
|
|
| n.小河，小溪( rivulet的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
bruise
|
|
| n.青肿，挫伤；伤痕；vt.打青；挫伤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
jack
|
|
| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
consternation
|
|
| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
thereby
|
|
| adv.因此，从而 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
shriek
|
|
| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
mire
|
|
| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
calamity
|
|
| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
perplexed
|
|
| adj.不知所措的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
revelled
|
|
| v.作乐( revel的过去式和过去分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
hospitable
|
|
| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
larder
|
|
| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
catastrophe
|
|
| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
blight
|
|
| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
dwellings
|
|
| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
destitution
|
|
| n.穷困，缺乏，贫穷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
rendering
|
|
| n.表现，描写 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
generosity
|
|
| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
awakened
|
|
| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
braced
|
|
| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
valiant
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
inflict
|
|
| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
redress
|
|
| n.赔偿，救济，矫正；v.纠正，匡正，革除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
investigation
|
|
| n.调查，调查研究 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
wrangling
|
|
| v.争吵，争论，口角( wrangle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
deferred
|
|
| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
commissioners
|
|
| n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 )；长官；委员；政府部门的长官 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |