Chapter Nine.
Johannesburg by Night.
Mr Philip Martin was an intelligent and entertaining speaker, with enough of the boy still about him to make him understand and interest our heroes.
His age was thirty-two, and he had both travelled and read a great deal. A South African by birth and descent of three generations, all his sympathies and hopes lay in his native land. England, or rather Scotland, had been the original home of his ancestors, and their traditions of liberty and independence were not forgotten. But it was Africa, not Scotland, which held all that was most sacred to him.
He had come to Johannesburg to superintend one of the mines, the same one from which Mr Raybold drew most of his immense income. Philip Martin was therefore a man with no personal vested interests in the Transvaal beyond his salary. He could therefore leave whenever he liked this inhospitable soil to Uitlanders.
He could also plot and conspire, without the same risks that Mr Raybold ran. This perhaps rendered him more daring and independent than his host.
During dinner, when not talking about the market, they conversed on indifferent subjects. Mr Martin seemed chiefly interested in hearing all about the life the lads had led at school.
Ned had a notion that this bright, strong, swarthy man, with his air of interest, was drawing them out for some purpose of his own, and was reading them all the time he asked questions and listened to their replies.
But he did not mind being studied, as his record and those of his companions were clean ones. Besides, he found it a pleasure to give his confidence to this man, for already he liked him very greatly, and felt that he would not be misjudged.
So the three lads rattled on, recalling incidents of victories won in the class and in the field, while Mr Martin listened with his keen, bright eyes glowing upon them alternately, as if in his heart he was moving again with them through those merry past times.
Mr Raybold also sat looking at them and listening with the indulgent smile of a genial host, who is pleased to find his guests enjoying themselves.
It was a good dinner, and the lads did full justice to it, in spite of their chatter, for they had brought with them good travellers’ appetites. The solids disappeared rapidly as they were placed before them, without in the least spoiling their zest for the dessert. The wines, however, they did not touch, which Mr Martin also abstained from. Mr Raybold was the only one who indulged in anything stronger than water.
“What do you drink?” asked Mr Martin, during a pause.
“Water,” answered our heroes.
“Right you are. That is my tipple also when I can get it; but in Africa one has to grow accustomed to moderate their desires even in this indulgence—particularly when on an exploring expedition.”
“And that was our intention in coming out to Africa.”
“You’ll have your chance, never fear. There is plenty of ground yet left to explore, and lots of big game to bag up-country.”
Clarence looked wistfully and affectionately at his father during the dinner, who returned his glances with tenderness. The abject expression which Mr Raybold had seemed to have worn in the afternoon had now been replaced by an air of placid content and kindliness. Clarence felt greatly relieved, and began to regain hope and confidence.
“Are you going to the club tonight, Philip?” he asked.
“Yes; I’ll look in there about ten o’clock. Shall you be there?”
“Yes; I think so,” replied the capitalist, quietly. “I have a few calls to make first.”
“I suppose you don’t object to me taking the youngsters, to show them about?”
“Well—no. If you consider them old enough, I don’t greatly object.”
There was not much heartiness in Mr Raybold’s tones, and he looked in the direction of his son with a slightly troubled eye, while he rubbed his chin reflectively.
“Oh, I’ll vouch for them, and take care that they do not get into any scrapes also,” answered Mr Martin, confidently.
“Very well; I’ll trust them under your wing. Come into my sanctum and have a cigar first.”
Mr Raybold rose and led the way with a pleasant smile; then, dismissing the servant who had followed them with coffee, he locked the door, and turned round to Philip Martin with a stern face—
“Look here, Philip, I don’t like this! I am risking the biggest part of my fortune, and possibly my own life, to help on the cause, but I draw the line at giving up my son also.”
Clarence sprang forward with a joyous cry, and flung his arms impulsively round his father’s neck.
“Oh, father, how happy you have made me by those words! So you are not, after all, a tame serf?”
“Wait, Clarence. I am speaking to Mr Martin at present,” said his father, gravely, at the same time pushing him away gently.
“I have learnt enough from these lads, Mr Raybold, to know that no power on earth will keep them out of the fun if they live in Johannesburg,” answered Philip Martin, calmly. “If we don’t show them what is going on under the surface, they are too recently from the home of freedom to be able to endure the life here.”
“I can send them away.”
“Where? To Rhodesia, where they will be picked up and utilised by our friends outside?”
Mr Raybold remained silent, as if he had not a reply handy.
“Best get them initiated first,” continued Philip, “and then they will be able to hold their own. Cecil Rhodes has already seen them, and trusts them, young as they are; and you know he is not the man to make many mistakes. Besides, think of your son’s feelings. He must respect his father. Just give him a chance to speak for himself.”
“Yes, father; let us go with Mr Martin. I want to be proud as well as fond of my father. We all want to help to shake down this horrible tyranny, and we can be trusted.”
“Those are our sentiments, sir,” echoed Ned and Fred—“to be of some service to the British, and help to wipe out those ugly stains that now lie on our flag.”
“My lads,” answered Mr Raybold, gravely, “it is not that I do not trust you, but that I fear to risk you. What has to be done is our business, not yours—men’s work, not boys’.”
“Where a father goes, surely it is a son’s duty to follow,” said Clarence.
“We’ll take the risk. And if we are boys, we are able to fight as well as most men, and run a good deal faster, if running is the game,” added Ned, with a flash in his eyes.
“Besides,” said Fred, quietly, “we know too much already not to know more.”
Philip Martin laughed, and cried—
“That clinches it, I fancy. Come, Mr Raybold, I’d rather have these three youngsters in our ranks than a dozen of some fellows I know.”
“I must yield, I suppose,” answered Mr Raybold, with a regretful sigh. “Only I wish I could have kept you out of this hornets’ nest, Clarence. Be careful, though, now that you are about to become conspirators, for we have a very wily enemy to hoodwink.”
He went over to where the cigars were and took one, which he cut and lit, while he offered the box to Philip.
“I’ll call the committee meeting for half-past ten. That will give you time to look round the town, Philip.”
“Yes; that will do nicely. Come, boys, if you are ready we’ll start.”
They found horses already saddled waiting for them at the front door, and together they cantered down the avenue and out to the main road.
The moon was just rising as they started, and very soon it was shining upon their faces and casting long black shadows behind them. The three boys were filled with eagerness, not so much to see the town as to be introduced to that mysterious club.
They had about four miles to ride before they reached the centre of the city, and through most of this distance they were passing private villas and gardens. The mines were situated on the other side of the city.
Under the silver lustre of the moon, with the dark mystery of shadow which the shrubs and trees cast, these suburbs appeared to be centuries old. From the window-blinds of the mansions shone the mellow lamplights, while the sounds of singing and music all added to the charm of that warm and radiant night.
Many people were out on the road, enjoying the beauty of the night—parties on horseback, lovers, natives, and not a few children. They all appeared happy and careless enough.
Soon they came to the more crowded parts, all brightly lighted up with electric globes and gas-jets. Many of the shops were still open and doing a thriving trade. The hotels and canteens were, as usual, crowded, while the side paths were filled with pedestrians. All the citizens of Johannesburg seemed to be on the streets at this time, and a strange gathering of nationalities they were.
“We have some of the worst blackguards on the face of the globe here,” observed Philip, as they rode slowly along Pritchard Street.
“And some of the greatest cowards also, I should say,” replied Ned.
“You are right; blackguards are very seldom brave men, although, of course, there are exceptions to every rule.”
“I see Israel is to the fore here.”
“Yes; that is one of the causes of our past failure. A Jew will never risk his property nor person for any cause outside of business. We don’t admit Jews nor Germans into the club where we are going tonight, nor, of course, Dutchmen either.”
“I suppose we must not ask any questions about your club now?” asked Ned, timidly.
“No; we shall dismount here, and leave our horses for the present. One thing I must ask of you, and that is, whatever you may see on the streets, do not interfere. This is a rough city, after dark particularly, and swarming with the vilest of both sexes. Yet restrain your generous instincts and do not pause either to remonstrate or protest. You will see and hear much to raise your just indignation, but keep your feelings under, or you will be of no use to the cause.”
It was a timely warning, and the boys acted upon it, although their chivalrous feelings were sorely tried during that night walk. Almost from the moment they turned from the hotel, where they left their horses, to the time they entered the club-house, their eyes and ears were affronted by evidences of unbridled licence and brutal tyranny.
All the inhabitants appeared to be more or less under the influence of drink, women as well as men. They were generally all well dressed, most of them overdressed, while on shirt-fronts and bare necks blazed out flashing diamonds.
“Are there no respectable people in Johannesburg?” asked the boys in astonishment.
“The respectable people mostly stay at home on nights like this,” replied Philip. “What you see are the scum of nations drawn here by the scent of gold, as vultures are to a battlefield. These are the camp followers of the great god Mammon, greater foes to freedom and progress than are the Boers. They are nearly all either thieves, spies, or reasonless beasts.”
It was a gay sight and for ever changing. The women with their shining dresses and flashing diamonds looked like fireflies as they flaunted along under the electric lights from canteen to canteen. Tram-cars, Cape carts, cabs, and horsemen filled up the centre of the streets, while black men, and whites, showing prominent noses and smoking enormous cigars, passed to and fro incessantly.
And amongst them swaggered shaggy-bearded and badly dressed Boers, scowling or jeering coarsely at the crowd they pushed so rudely through.
They heard one drunken fellow begin to shout out, “Rule, Britannia,” but he was immediately seized by a couple of Zarps and dragged off to prison. No one interfered on his behalf, nor did our heroes feel much pity either; he had such an atrocious rasping voice that they were almost grateful to the Boers for silencing it. At last they turned down a quiet street, and soon reached a house where the front door stood wide open, and where the first-flat windows were lighted up.
“This is our club,” said Philip, as they entered.
There was an office in the hall where lay a visitors’ book. In this he entered their names, with his own. Then, with a nod to the silent hall-keeper, he showed them upstairs.
“Our reading-room,” Philip said, as he ushered them into a large room comfortably furnished.
There were a good number of gentlemen assembled, reading papers and magazines, or writing. Philip looked about him keenly, and, nodding to several, took a chair and touched the electric bell. Almost immediately a waiter entered from another room.
“The committee are waiting for you, sir,” whispered the waiter to Philip.
“All right. Excuse me for a few moments, boys. You will find all the latest magazines here, and I’ll not be long.”
He went out of the room, and left them to amuse themselves as they best could amongst the papers and magazines.
They had not very long to wait, however, before he returned and said—
“Now, boys, come with me, and I’ll show you the other parts of these premises.”