Chapter Fifteen.
At Nylstroom.
Tender-hearted and magnanimous Uncle Paul had not come best out of this interview, neither had he exhibited much of his vaunted diplomacy and character-reading. Indeed, he had shown himself to be what he was exactly—a densely stupid and tyrannical Boer, who thought to cow three lads with his threats, and make them his tools by a little clumsy and transparent cajolery. This was the only method he had, however, of dealing with people, and what his parasites termed his greatness.
His agents and whitewashes have called him a man of deep religious feeling, honesty of purpose, singleness of life, thoroughness of character, free from all vices and defects, of great magnanimity, mercy, clemency, and justice, and possessed of the simplicity of a child.
Yes; he had the simplicity of a very much spoilt, greedy, and vicious child. Our heroes had penetrated this side of his nature. They were now about to taste of his clemency and justice. They had thwarted his intentions concerning them, and, being a Boer, he could not pardon that from either man or child. No Boer was ever known to forgive or forget any rebuff. They never reason; they can only brood upon their side of the question and plan revenge.
Kruger showed his thoroughness in the way he pursued them with his witnesses and private orders to the landdrost. He did this with the thoroughness of a red-skin. Their advocate was snubbed, and ordered to sit down the moment he rose to defend them. No witnesses were called on their side, while people they had never seen came and swore to actions and words they had never thought about or said. Then the verdict was given without a pause, and their sentence delivered with vicious denunciation from the judge. As they listened to him they were almost persuaded that they were very dangerous criminals, and deserved the gallows, instead of hard labour and long imprisonment.
Boer justices, now that Kotze was removed and they had only one will to consult, did their work with sweeping and drastic force. They punished not only the criminal, but his friends as well, when they could be got at.
Their sentences were—
Seven years each, with hard labour.
2000 pounds fine each, or another five years.
A hundred lashes, to be spread over the first two years in the following order: twenty-five lashes after the first three months’ imprisonment, and twenty-five each six months after.
Our heroes laughed at the fines, but they clenched their teeth and vowed that they would be free or dead before the lashes were inflicted upon them.
“If we get free and live, boys,” whispered Ned, fiercely, “I hope that fiend Kruger may not die before I can kill him.”
Mr Raybold and Philip Martin got a few words with them before they were led away.
“Don’t you pay that fine, father,” said Clarence.
“Not until you are at liberty, then I don’t mind what it costs me,” replied his father, brokenly.
“Don’t be afraid, father; the Transvaal hasn’t got a tronk that will keep us in for three months, now that we know our fate.”
Philip stooped and whispered in the ear of Ned.
“We shall move heaven and earth to get you sent to one jail. After that, day and night we will work to help your escape. Keep up your pluck, and take advantage of all chances. We’ll have you shadowed with friends and able horses.”
Ned smiled, and pressed the hand of his friend as he answered—
“I will not spend all my time sleeping, you bet.”
It was a desperate life our heroes led after this day, and might have broken even their spirits, only for the hope they had of accomplishing their escape.
After passing a week at Pretoria, they were sent up the country to Nylstroom, where some heavy road-making was being done. This they did not object to, as it was so far on the way to Rhodesia. They were glad also to find that they were not separated.
Here they were treated with all the ignominy and harshness that the stupid and merciless Boers could invent to make their captives sick of existence. They were put into a cell where only natives were confined, and not allowed any bedding whatever. If they could find space enough to lie down, that was all the comfort they were permitted to have.
This, of course, was intended to degrade them as far as possible, and doubtless would have been a terrible punishment to a Boer.
But our heroes, being more liberally brought up, did not find the company of those Kaffirs half the infliction that some of their late white companions had been. The captive savages were cleaner and more wholesome, both outwardly and inwardly.
They were men most of them, whose only crime had been that of conquered enemies. Tall, powerful warriors they had been once upon a time, with spirits still untamed, and hearts filled with undying hatred toward their harsh oppressors.
As soon as these prisoners discovered that Ned, Fred, and Clarence were English, and filled with the same hatred as they had, they received them into their ranks, and treated them with all the kindness and consideration which they were able to show.
Several of them formed a blood bond with our heroes, which made them allies and friends for life.
One clear benefit in this companionship was that these Kaffirs thus pledged would be faithful to them. Indeed, amongst the whole gang, there was not likely to be a traitor or a spy. These poor wretches had nothing to gain by treachery, for their condition would not be a whit improved. They all knew the Boers from bitter experience, and abhorred them as much as they respected their English conquerors.
By daybreak they were marched out to their work under the escort of an armed and mounted force of warders. The food served out to them was mealie-porridge with salt, and not too much of that. From the hour our heroes entered Nylstroom, they were constantly in a famishing condition.
Yet they had to labour as navvies all day long under the broiling rays until sundown, with hardly any intermission except the short time allowed for their midday meal. The overseers rode about abusing them in German and Low Dutch, and plying their cowhide whips over the backs of those who fainted or shirked their work. It was worse than slavery, as these Boers did not care whether the prisoners lived or died. If they resented the savage stroke by so much as a look, they were tied up and flogged almost to death. If they showed fight, they were at once shot down and flung to one side like carrion.
Our heroes could not have endured the whip even with their hopes of liberty buoying them up, therefore they laboured with a will, and gave the brutes no chance of chastising them. Sometimes the whip cracked over their heads, but fortunately for their future, it did not descend on their backs.
The reason for this was that their friends outside had managed to get at these venal wretches, and paid them a weekly sum to spare the young men that last outrage.
They were all the more closely watched for this very reason so that they might not escape. During the day this would have been impossible, as before they could have run a dozen steps, they would have been shot down.
They had passed a fortnight of this wretched existence, when, one day, as Ned looked up, he saw a party of horsemen riding past. Amongst them was Philip Martin, who, catching his eye, pointed quickly north, and then patted his horse.
Ned knew what that meant. They were to run northward when their chance came, where friends and horses would be in readiness.
His heart bounded as he read the signals and saw his friend gallop past him. Then he bent and plied his pickaxe with renewed energy.
In spite of their semi-starvation, the hard labour did not hurt our heroes. Already they had got over the utter exhaustion that made them so helpless when they reached their cells. They had lost flesh woefully, but their muscles were becoming tough and hard as steel, and their skins tanned and sun-proof. They did not fear but that they would be able to run once they got the chance.
Their cell was a small one, with corrugated iron on two sides and mud-cemented walls on the other two. Each night they were carefully searched before being locked in, so that it was impossible for them to smuggle in any tool.
Still, now that Ned had seen help so close at hand, he did not despair. What he could not get in himself might be sent to him from the outside.
That night he told his chums what he had seen, and their spirits rose wonderfully at the news.
“They will be on the outlook, I am sure, therefore we must let them know whereabouts we are located.” After some consultation the idea struck them to hang out a bit of rag from one of the narrow air-holes. If they did this that night, it was almost sure to be noticed and understood by those on the watch outside.
There were fifteen Kaffirs in this cell besides themselves who would have to be trusted. The lads had seen enough of them to risk taking the lot into their confidence.
“Cocoeni,” he whispered to a strong young fellow, who had vowed friendship with him, “would you like to escape?”
“You bet, baas,” replied the Kaffir, who understood and could speak a little English.
“And the others, will they help us?”
“Yes, baas; you may trust us all. We shall all help you if you show us how.”
“I have friends outside who, when they know where we are, will give us some instrument to break out of this.”
“Good. And what can we do to let them know?”
Ned had torn a piece from his shirt while he was speaking; he now said—
“Give me a back up, Cocoeni. I’ll push out this bit of rag. When the moon rises they will see it.”
“So will the Boers,” said Cocoeni.
“Oh, we must risk that. If they do wander round that side, they may not think anything about it. Besides, they are too lazy to do much knocking about at night.”
Cocoeni willingly placed his face against the wall, and bent his back while Ned climbed up on to his broad shoulders. It was pitch dark inside, but they could see the stars through the slits near the roof.
After the rag had been pushed half through so that one end hung outside and the other inside, they agreed to watch and watch turn about. At the first appearance of day they would take in the signal.
Clarence took the first watch of three hours, while the rest lay down to sleep. By this time every Kaffir had been told by Cocoeni, and they were prepared to obey orders.
Nothing disturbed Clarence. The Boers never troubled themselves to visit their prisoners during the night, and doubtless not many bothered themselves to keep awake.
He saw, however, by the rays of silver that the moon had risen and was shining on the outer wall. It was a full moon, so that the rag must be observed if any one was on the watch.
Fred took the next watch, nor had he anything to report when Ned relieved him. The moon by this time had moved round to the other side.
Ned waited patiently for about two hours in the darkness, when, just as he was beginning to think there would be no answer that night, Cocoeni touched him, and whispered softly in his ear—
“Baas, some one outside creeping gently.”
The keen ears of the savage had heard what Ned could not.
A few moments afterwards something heavy dropped upon his head, and fell with a muffled thud on the clay floor. He stooped to lift it, and to his delight felt the head of a small pickaxe wrapped in flannel. As he was unrolling it, another article came through the slit, and this he found to be the handle.
His friends had understood his signal, and this was their reply. He hugged handle and head in his arms with an ecstasy of delight. Now, at last, freedom was within sight.
It was too late, however, to do anything this morning. In another hour dawn would be upon them. They must defer operations for another night, and hide the treasure.
He explained what he had received to Cocoeni, who woke his friends to tell them, while Ned did the same with Fred and Clarence. A deep grunt of joy spoke the Kaffirs’ feelings, while our heroes fairly danced with pleasure.
To dig a small hole in the corner was the work of the next half-hour, after which they placed the articles side by side and covered them with the clay, which they pressed down, and moistening the top from their water-jug, they smoothed it as carefully over as they could in the dark.
One of the Kaffirs lay down on the damp clay and dried it with his body, while the others crawled about and picked up every portion of loose clay, which they swallowed as they found them.
Before the first streak of dawn crept in the floor was as clear of débris as it had been before, and the part over the pickaxe completely caked and dry.
Then Ned looked up to see and remove the rag. It was gone. The one who had brought the gift had removed the signal.