A change had come over the place during my absence. The natives had almost disappeared from sight. Except the few families living round Blaauwildebeestefontein one never saw a native on the roads, and none came into the store. They were sticking close to their locations, or else they had gone after some distant business. Except a batch5 of three Shangaans returning from the Rand, I had nobody in the store for the whole of one day. So about four o’clock I shut it up, whistled on Colin, and went for a walk along the Berg.
If there were no natives on the road, there were plenty in the bush. I had the impression, of which Wardlaw had spoken, that the native population of the countryside had suddenly been hugely increased. The woods were simply hotching with them. I was being spied on as before, but now there were so many at the business that they could not all conceal7 their tracks. Every now and then I had a glimpse of a black shoulder or leg, and Colin, whom I kept on the leash8, was half-mad with excitement. I had seen all I wanted, and went home with a preoccupied9 mind. I sat long on Wardlaw’s garden-seat, trying to puzzle out the truth of this spying.
What perplexed10 me was that I had been left unmolested when I had gone to Umvelos’. Now, as I conjectured11, the secret of the neighbourhood, whatever it was, was probably connected with the Rooirand. But when I had ridden in that direction and had spent two days in exploring, no one had troubled to watch me. I was quite certain about this, for my eye had grown quick to note espionage12, and it is harder for a spy to hide in the spare bush of the flats than in the dense13 thickets14 on these uplands.
The watchers, then, did not mind my fossicking round their sacred place. Why, then, was I so closely watched in the harmless neighbourhood of the store? I thought for a long time before an answer occurred to me. The reason must be that going to the plains I was going into native country and away from civilization. But Blaauwildebeestefontein was near the frontier. There must be some dark business brewing15 of which they may have feared that I had an inkling. They wanted to see if I proposed to go to Pietersdorp or Wesselsburg and tell what I knew, and they clearly were resolved that I should not. I laughed, I remember, thinking that they had forgotten the post-bag. But then I reflected that I knew nothing of what might be happening daily to the post-bag.
When I had reached this conclusion, my first impulse was to test it by riding straight west on the main road. If I was right, I should certainly be stopped. On second thoughts, however, this seemed to me to be flinging up the game prematurely16, and I resolved to wait a day or two before acting17.
Next day nothing happened, save that my sense of loneliness increased. I felt that I was being hemmed18 in by barbarism, and cut off in a ghoulish land from the succour of my own kind. I only kept my courage up by the necessity of presenting a brave face to Mr Wardlaw, who was by this time in a very broken condition of nerves. I had often thought that it was my duty to advise him to leave, and to see him safely off, but I shrank from severing19 myself from my only friend. I thought, too, of the few Dutch farmers within riding distance, and had half a mind to visit them, but they were far off over the plateau and could know little of my anxieties.
The third day events moved faster. Japp was sober and wonderfully quiet. He gave me good-morning quite in a friendly tone, and set to posting up the books as if he had never misbehaved in his days. I was so busy with my thoughts that I, too, must have been gentler than usual, and the morning passed like a honeymoon20, till I went across to dinner.
I was just sitting down when I remembered that I had left my watch in my waistcoat behind the counter, and started to go back for it. But at the door I stopped short. For two horsemen had drawn21 up before the store.
One was a native with what I took to be saddle-bags; the other was a small slim man with a sun helmet, who was slowly dismounting. Something in the cut of his jib struck me as familiar. I slipped into the empty schoolroom and stared hard. Then, as he half-turned in handing his bridle22 to the Kaffir, I got a sight of his face. It was my former shipmate, Henriques. He said something to his companion, and entered the store.
You may imagine that my curiosity ran to fever-heat. My first impulse was to march over for my waistcoat, and make a third with Japp at the interview. Happily I reflected in time that Henriques knew my face, for I had grown no beard, having a great dislike to needless hair. If he was one of the villains23 in the drama, he would mark me down for his vengeance24 once he knew I was here, whereas at present he had probably forgotten all about me. Besides, if I walked in boldly I would get no news. If japp and he had a secret, they would not blab it in my presence.
My next idea was to slip in by the back to the room I had once lived in. But how was I to cross the road? It ran white and dry some distance each way in full view of the Kaffir with the horses. Further, the store stood on a bare patch, and it would be a hard job to get in by the back, assuming, as I believed, that the neighbourhood was thick with spies.
The upshot was that I got my glasses and turned them on the store. The door was open, and so was the window. In the gloom of the interior I made out Henriques’ legs. He was standing25 by the counter, and apparently26 talking to Japp. He moved to shut the door, and came back inside my focus opposite the window. There he stayed for maybe ten minutes, while I hugged my impatience27. I would have given a hundred pounds to be snug28 in my old room with japp thinking me out of the store.
Suddenly the legs twitched29 up, and his boots appeared above the counter. Japp had invited him to his bedroom, and the game was now to be played beyond my ken4. This was more than I could stand, so I stole out at the back door and took to the thickest bush on the hillside. My notion was to cross the road half a mile down, when it had dropped into the defile30 of the stream, and then to come swiftly up the edge of the water so as to effect a back entrance into the store.
As fast as I dared I tore through the bush, and in about a quarter of an hour had reached the point I was making for. Then I bore down to the road, and was in the scrub about ten yards off it, when the clatter31 of horses pulled me up again. Peeping out I saw that it was my friend and his Kaffir follower32, who were riding at a very good pace for the plains. Toilfully and crossly I returned on my tracks to my long-delayed dinner. Whatever the purport33 of their talk, Japp and the Portuguese34 had not taken long over it.
In the store that afternoon I said casually35 to Japp that I had noticed visitors at the door during my dinner hour. The old man looked me frankly36 enough in the face. ‘Yes, it was Mr Hendricks,’ he said, and explained that the man was a Portuguese trader from Delagoa way, who had a lot of Kaffir stores east of the Lebombo Hills. I asked his business, and was told that he always gave Japp a call in when he was passing.
‘Do you take every man that calls into your bedroom, and shut the door?’ I asked.
Japp lost colour and his lip trembled. ‘I swear to God, Mr Crawfurd, I’ve been doing nothing wrong. I’ve kept the promise I gave you like an oath to my mother. I see you suspect me, and maybe you’ve cause, but I’ll be quite honest with you. I have dealt in diamonds before this with Hendricks. But today, when he asked me, I told him that that business
was off. I only took him to my room to give him a drink. He likes brandy, and there’s no supply in the shop.’
I distrusted Japp wholeheartedly enough, but I was convinced that in this case he spoke6 the truth. ‘Had the man any news?’ I asked.
‘He had and he hadn’t,’ said Japp. ‘He was always a sullen37 beggar, and never spoke much. But he said one queer thing. He asked me if I was going to retire, and when I told him “yes,” he said I had put it off rather long. I told him I was as healthy as I ever was, and he laughed in his dirty Portugoose way. “Yes, Mr Japp,” he says, “but the country is not so healthy.” I wonder what the chap meant. He’ll be dead of blackwater before many months, to judge by his eyes.’
This talk satisfied me about Japp, who was clearly in desperate fear of offending me, and disinclined to return for the present to his old ways. But I think the rest of the afternoon was the most wretched time in my existence. It was as plain as daylight that we were in for some grave trouble, trouble to which I believed that I alone held any kind of clue. I had a pile of evidence — the visit of Henriques was the last bit — which pointed38 to some great secret approaching its disclosure. I thought that that disclosure meant blood and ruin. But I knew nothing definite. If the commander of a British army had come to me then and there and offered help, I could have done nothing, only asked him to wait like me. The peril39, whatever it was, did not threaten me only, though I and Wardlaw and Japp might be the first to suffer; but I had a terrible feeling that I alone could do something to ward3 it off, and just what that something was I could not tell. I was horribly afraid, not only of unknown death, but of my impotence to play any manly40 part. I was alone, knowing too much and yet too little, and there was no chance of help under the broad sky. I cursed myself for not writing to Aitken at Lourenco Marques weeks before. He had promised to come up, and he was the kind of man who kept his word.
In the late afternoon I dragged Wardlaw out for a walk. In his presence I had to keep up a forced cheerfulness, and I believe the pretence41 did me good. We took a path up the Berg among groves42 of stinkwood and essenwood, where a failing stream made an easy route. It may have been fancy, but it seemed to me that the wood was emptier and that we were followed less closely. I remember it was a lovely evening, and in the clear fragrant43 gloaming every foreland of the Berg stood out like a great ship above the dark green sea of the bush. When we reached the edge of the plateau we saw the sun sinking between two far blue peaks in Makapan’s country, and away to the south the great roll of the high veld. I longed miserably44 for the places where white men were thronged45 together in dorps and cities. As we gazed a curious sound struck our ears. It seemed to begin far up in the north — a low roll like the combing of breakers on the sand. Then it grew louder and travelled nearer — a roll, with sudden spasms46 of harsher sound in it; reminding me of the churning in one of the pot-holes of Kirkcaple cliffs. Presently it grew softer again as the sound passed south, but new notes were always emerging. The echo came sometimes, as it were, from stark47 rock, and sometimes from the deep gloom of the forests. I have never heard an eerier48 sound. Neither natural nor human it seemed, but the voice of that world between which is hid from man’s sight and hearing.
Mr Wardlaw clutched my arm, and in that moment I guessed the explanation. The native drums were beating, passing some message from the far north down the line of the Berg, where the locations were thickest, to the great black population of the south.
‘But that means war,’ Mr Wardlaw cried.
‘It means nothing of the kind,’ I said shortly. ‘It’s their way of sending news. It’s as likely to be some change in the weather or an outbreak of cattle disease.’
When we got home I found Japp with a face like grey paper. ‘Did you hear the drums?‘he asked.
‘Yes,’ I said shortly. ‘What about them?’
‘God forgive you for an ignorant Britisher,’ he almost shouted. ‘You may hear drums any night, but a drumming like that I only once heard before. It was in ‘79 in the ‘Zeti valley. Do you know what happened next day? Cetewayo’s impis came over the hills, and in an hour there wasn’t a living white soul in the glen. Two men escaped, and one of them was called Peter Japp.’
‘We are in God’s hands then, and must wait on His will,’ I said solemnly.
There was no more sleep for Wardlaw and myself that night. We made the best barricade50 we could of the windows, loaded all our weapons, and trusted to Colin to give us early news. Before supper I went over to get Japp to join us, but found that that worthy51 had sought help from his old protector, the bottle, and was already sound asleep with both door and window open.
I had made up my mind that death was certain, and yet my heart belied52 my conviction, and I could not feel the appropriate mood. If anything I was more cheerful since I had heard the drums. It was clearly now beyond the power of me or any man to stop the march of events. My thoughts ran on a native rising, and I kept telling myself how little that was probable. Where were the arms, the leader, the discipline? At any rate such arguments put me to sleep before dawn, and I wakened at eight to find that nothing had happened. The clear morning sunlight, as of old, made Blaauwildebeestefontein the place of a dream. Zeeta brought in my cup of coffee as if this day were just like all others, my pipe tasted as sweet, the fresh air from the Berg blew as fragrantly53 on my brow. I went over to the store in reasonably good spirits, leaving Wardlaw busy on the penitential Psalms54.
The post-runner had brought the mail as usual, and there was one private letter for me. I opened it with great excitement, for the envelope bore the stamp of the firm. At last Colles had deigned55 to answer.
Inside was a sheet of the firm’s notepaper, with the signature of Colles across the top. Below some one had pencilled these five words:
‘The Blesbok3 are changing ground.’
3 A species of buck56.
I looked to see that Japp had not suffocated57 himself, then shut up the store, and went back to my room to think out this new mystification.
The thing had come from Colles, for it was the private notepaper of the Durban office, and there was Colles’ signature. But the pencilling was in a different hand. My deduction58 from this was that some one wished to send me a message, and that Colles had given that some one a sheet of signed paper to serve as a kind of introduction. I might take it, therefore, that the scribble59 was Colles’ reply to my letter.
Now, my argument continued, if the unknown person saw fit to send me a message, it could not be merely one of warning. Colles must have told him that I was awake to some danger, and as I was in Blaauwildebeestefontein, I must be nearer the heart of things than any one else. The message must therefore be in the nature of some password, which I was to remember when I heard it again.
I reasoned the whole thing out very clearly, and I saw no gap in my logic60. I cannot describe how that scribble had heartened me. I felt no more the crushing isolation61 of yesterday. There were others beside me in the secret. Help must be on the way, and the letter was the first tidings.
But how near? — that was the question; and it occurred to me for the first time to look at the postmark. I went back to the store and got the envelope out of the waste-paper basket. The postmark was certainly not Durban. The stamp was a Cape49 Colony one, and of the mark I could only read three letters, T. R. S. This was no sort of clue, and I turned the thing over, completely baffled. Then I noticed that there was no mark of the post town of delivery. Our letters to Blaauwildebeestefontein came through Pietersdorp and bore that mark. I compared the envelope with others. They all had a circle, and ‘Pietersdorp’ in broad black letters. But this envelope had nothing except the stamp.
I was still slow at detective work, and it was some minutes before the explanation flashed on me. The letter had never been posted at all. The stamp was a fake, and had been borrowed from an old envelope. There was only one way in which it could have come. It must have been put in the letter-bag while the postman was on his way from Pietersdorp. My unknown friend must therefore be somewhere within eighty miles of me. I hurried off to look for the post-runner, but he had started back an hour before. There was nothing for it but to wait on the coming of the unknown.
That afternoon I again took Mr Wardlaw for a walk. It is an ingrained habit of mine that I never tell anyone more of a business than is practically necessary. For months I had kept all my knowledge to myself, and breathed not a word to a soul. But I thought it my duty to tell Wardlaw about the letter, to let him see that we were not forgotten. I am afraid it did not encourage his mind. Occult messages seemed to him only the last proof of a deadly danger encompassing62 us, and I could not shake his opinion.
We took the same road to the crown of the Berg, and I was confirmed in my suspicion that the woods were empty and the watchers gone. The place was as deserted63 as the bush at Umvelos’. When we reached the summit about sunset we waited anxiously for the sound of drums. It came, as we expected, louder and more menacing than before. Wardlaw stood pinching my arm as the great tattoo64 swept down the escarpment, and died away in the far mountains beyond the Olifants, Yet it no longer seemed to be a wall of sound, shutting us out from our kindred in the West. A message had pierced the wall. If the blesbok were changing ground, I believed that the hunters were calling out their hounds and getting ready for the chase.
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1
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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batch
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| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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leash
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| n.牵狗的皮带，束缚；v.用皮带系住 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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conjectured
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| 推测，猜测，猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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espionage
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| n.间谍行为，谍报活动 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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prematurely
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| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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hemmed
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| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
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severing
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的现在分词 )；断，裂 | |
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honeymoon
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| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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villains
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| n.恶棍( villain的名词复数 )；罪犯；（小说、戏剧等中的）反面人物；淘气鬼 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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defile
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| v.弄污，弄脏；n.(山间)小道 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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purport
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| n.意义，要旨，大要；v.意味著，做为...要旨，要领是... | |
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Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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41
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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42
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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43
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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44
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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45
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
spasms
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| n.痉挛( spasm的名词复数 )；抽搐；（能量、行为等的）突发；发作 | |
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47
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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48
eerier
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| adj.（因阴森怪诞而）引起恐惧的，可怕的( eerie的比较级 ) | |
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49
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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50
barricade
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| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
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51
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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52
belied
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| v.掩饰( belie的过去式和过去分词 )；证明（或显示）…为虚假；辜负；就…扯谎 | |
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53
fragrantly
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| adv.芬芳地；愉快地 | |
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54
psalms
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| n.赞美诗( psalm的名词复数 )；圣诗；圣歌；(中的) | |
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55
deigned
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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57
suffocated
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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58
deduction
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| n.减除，扣除，减除额；推论，推理，演绎 | |
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59
scribble
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| v.潦草地书写，乱写，滥写；n.潦草的写法，潦草写成的东西，杂文 | |
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60
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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61
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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62
encompassing
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| v.围绕( encompass的现在分词 )；包围；包含；包括 | |
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63
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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64
tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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