Chapter Nine.
Ralfontein—Captain Jamieson and his family—Business before pleasure!—The last evening at the Farm—A startling proposal.
Captain Jamieson’s farm was situated in the midst of a fertile tract of country, bounded on the north and east by ranges of lofty mountains and hills; beyond which lay vast plains and dense forests, abounding with wild animals and members of the feathered tribes, of every size and description—from the huge elephant to the diminutive “zenik;” from the ostrich to the tiny “creeper.”
The house, stables, and farm buildings stood on the summit of an eminence, which rose somewhat abruptly at the junction of two narrow, but swift streams; they were built in the form of a quadrangle, and were admirably planned for defence.
The pasturage in the immediate neighbourhood of the farm was remarkably rich, wood and water were plentiful, the climate was all that could be desired; yet this lovely district was but thinly populated, and the “Squire of Ralfontein” was practically “monarch of all he surveyed,” there being no other settlement within five-and-thirty miles, and no town or village within double that distance.
Donald Jamieson was—what our Yankee cousins would call—a “very remarkable man.” He had just turned his sixtieth year, but was as hearty and active as a man of forty. The youngest son of a poor, but proud, Scotch laird, he had taken the “king’s shilling” when a lad of eighteen, and after seeing much active service in all parts of the world, was awarded an ensign’s commission in the “Cape Mounted Riflemen;” in which corps he remained until he obtained his troop, when he retired on half-pay, and took to farming. He was now considered one of the most successful farmers in South Africa, and was also noted for his knowledge of the country, his skill as a hunter, and the influence he had acquired over the natives.
(Although a mounted corps, the junior subs, of the C.M.R. held the rank of ensign, not cornet.)
When Matthew Flinders exchanged from the —th Foot to the Cape Mounted Riflemen he was attached to Jamieson’s troop, and from that time they had been on the closest terms of friendship. Captain Jamieson was a widower; his family consisted of three sons and two daughters. Frank, the eldest boy, had just turned eighteen; his brothers, James and David, were sixteen and fourteen respectively. The girls were—but no, we must not divulge the young ladies’ ages! suffice it to say that Miss Janet (who since Mrs Jamieson’s death had acted as her father’s housekeeper) was well out of her teens, whilst Miss Elsie had not long jumped into hers. A pair of bonnier lasses could not have been found in the whole of Cape Colony!
The young Jamiesons assisted their father in looking after the farm and the men employed upon it; of whom there were between twenty and thirty—mostly Hottentots, Korannas and Griquas, or “Bastaards;” these lived in decent cottages on the estate with their wives and families, and were all trained to the use of fire-arms; thus in the event of Ralfontein being attacked, it could be defended by a well-disciplined and well-armed garrison.
“Business first, pleasure afterwards,” was Major Flinders’ motto; so on the morning after he arrived at Ralfontein he informed his host of his wish to purchase some horses.
“You could not have come to me at a better time, Mat,” was the captain’s reply. “I have now nearly seventy young uns—two, three, and four-year olds—and about half as many aged horses in the paddocks and stables; and early next month I expect a drove of brood mares and colts from Campbell’s Doorp. You can take your pick of those that are here or wait for the others.”
Major Flinders replied, that as he could not remain at Ralfontein more than a week he must choose from the horses then on the farm; so the next three days were spent in examining and trying several “young uns,” of which the Major ultimately purchased fifteen, making up the score with older horses.
Tom and his crony George Weston had hoped to see some big shooting during their stay at the Jamiesons’; but in this they were disappointed, as, it being a busy season at the farm, their young hosts had no opportunity of going out with them; however, like sensible lads, they contented themselves with roaming about the estate shooting hares and guinea-fowl, and assisting in the selection and trial of the horses; thus they found the time pass very quickly and the last day of their visit to the farm came round all too soon...
“Well, my lads what think you of Ralfontein?” asked their hospitable host as they sat round the supper-table the evening before their departure.
“It is the prettiest and jolliest place I ever stayed at,” cried George, with unmistakable earnestness; “that is to say, except—except Rustenburg,” he added, with some confusion.
“I only wish the pater would give up Rustenburg, and settle here!” exclaimed Tom. “How jolly we should all be together, and what sport we’d have!”
“That is exactly what our friend wishes me to do, Tom,” laughed the Major; “but I didn’t think he would have found a supporter in you!”
“Yes, that is true,” said their host. “I tell your father that he could sell Rustenburg for a large sum now, and once up here he would make no end of money. You and Weston must really think it over, Mat.”
“And then you know, father,” put in Tom, “when you had made your fortune, you might return to England, and buy back Flinders Court.”
“That’s your ambition, is it!” the captain said. “You want to become a Marlshire squire! But you must see a little more of your native land first, Tom; and I should say that a couple of years’ service in the ‘C.M.R.’ would be the best way of seeing it. Mat, my friend, let us have a glass together and drink to the welfare of the old corps?”
“With all my heart, Donald! you and I have both served in other regiments, but I am sure our happiest days were spent with the ‘Green Jackets.’”
“Do you think you will come up here, father?” inquired Tom as soon as the old comrades had drunk their toast—with “all the honours,” as old comrades should do.
“We must see what your mother says, Tom; such a ‘migration’ is not to be thought lightly of,” the Major replied. “In the meantime it may satisfy you to know that our good friend has invited us to spend a month with him next year, just to see how we like it. And now, as we have to be in the saddle by cock-crow, I think you youngsters had best turn in.”