Chapter Six.
Tom Flinders’ Home—“A friend in need Is a friend indeed!”—An Expedition proposed.
Five miles from Cape Town, on the Wynberg and Simon’s Town road, lies the picturesque, wood-girt village of Rondebosch. The ground in rear of this village is beautifully timbered, and rises with a more or less gradual ascent, towards a mountain range extending from Table Bay to Muissenburg; an old fort and military station about two-and-a-half leagues from Simon’s Town; and upon one of the rocky spurs of this range, overlooking Rondebosch, there used to stand an ancient Dutch block-house, from the summit of which a splendid view of the surrounding country, and “veldt,” stretching far away to the foot of the Stellenbosch Hills, could be obtained, on a fair, clear day.
Between the “Block-house Hill”—as it was then called—and the village of Rondebosch lay Major Flinders’ property, the “Rustenburg House Farm,” consisting of some 300 morgens (about 600 acres) of carefully cultivated land and vineyards, with a substantial dwelling-house and farm buildings; the whole being screened from the highroad by plantations of well-grown trees. The Major also held 60 morgens of coarse grazing-land, with a cottage and stables, two miles away on the “veldt” to the north-east of Rondebosch.
So you see the Major’s commission-money had been well invested; the more so, because—thanks to good management and untiring industry—the farm had greatly increased in value since he took possession of it.
One warm evening, some few weeks after the Surat Castle anchored in Table Bay, Major and Mrs Flinders, with Tom, his two sisters, and their guests the Westons, were seated on the “stoep” of Rustenburg House; the ladies busily engaged in mending a pair of canvas saddle-bags, whilst the Major, Mr Weston, and the two boys occupied themselves cleaning and oiling a couple of sporting rifles and a double-barrelled “Joe Manton”—which latter weapon Tom had brought out from England.
When Major Flinders heard of the misfortunes that had befallen Mr Weston he offered to assist him in any way that lay in his power—either by using his influence with the Governor to obtain for him some suitable appointment in Cape Colony, or by rendering him pecuniary aid. At the same time the Major pressed his friend to join him in farming at Rondebosch, rather than seek government employment, or continue his seafaring life.
Mrs Flinders warmly seconded her husband’s proposition, pointing out that Rustenburg House was quite big enough to accommodate the two families, and declaring—with most unmistakable sincerity—how much it would please her to have Gracie Weston as a companion for her own girls, Ella and Maud.
“They can be educated together, Mr Weston,” said the good lady, “and that, you know, will be a mutual advantage.”
After a little consideration Weston thankfully accepted this offer, and decided to settle down at the Cape, and join his fortunes to those of his quondam school-fellow. The Sea-mew was insured for 1500 pounds (about one-third her value) and Mr Weston had 500 pounds in his London banker’s hands; and the Major introduced him to a lawyer, who consented to advance him 250 pounds on his policy, and promised to take the necessary steps to secure the whole sum for which the ill-fated barque had been insured. So Mr Weston did not come into the “firm” quite empty-handed.
“By the way, my dear Mat,” said Mr Weston as he proceeded to take the lock of one of the rifles to pieces, “we have been so engaged with lawyer Rutherhorn that we have forgotten all about that trip up country you were talking of the week before last. Suppose you tell us about it.”
“Oh, I had not forgotten it,” rejoined the Major; “indeed Kate and I were going over the ‘pros and cons’ this morning, and we came to the conclusion that—”
“What?” cried Tom eagerly, laying down the barrel he was cleaning.
“That Rugby hadn’t cured our son and heir of his impatience and impetuosity,” laughed Mrs Flinders, rising from her seat. “Come along, girls, we will leave the gentlemen to talk over this important project by themselves. There are your saddle-bags, Tom; but if your father takes you with him, you must have a new pair; these have seen their best days.”
“Now, Maurice,” said Major Flinders as soon as the ladies had disappeared into the house, “I will give you an idea of my plans, and see what you think of them. To begin with, I must tell you that an old brother officer of mine, Donald Jamieson, has gone in for breeding horses at his farm up country, 180 miles north-east of Mossel Bay. He has been exceptionally lucky, for it so happens that the district in which he has settled is wonderfully free from the fatal ‘horse-sickness;’ and that pest of the country the ‘tsetse’ is almost unknown there.”
“What is the ‘tsetse,’ Major Flinders?” inquired George Weston, who was a lad with a thirst for knowledge of any description.
“A most intolerable nuisance, George,” replied the Major; “in the shape of a small, brownish-yellow fly, which attacks horses and cattle, too often causing their death; for the bite of this insect produces blood-poisoning, and that generally proves fatal. Oddly enough human beings rarely suffer any ill effects from the bite.”
“Jot that down, Geordie,” laughed Tom.
“I think I will,” quietly observed his friend, suiting the action to the word.
“Quite right, my boy,” said Major Flinders, with an approving nod; “pick up information whenever you can; you never can tell when it may not prove useful. But to proceed! Just now horses are very dear in these parts, and high prices are being offered in Cape Town even for unbroken colts and fillies. I heard some time ago from Jamieson that he had several young horses to dispose of, so I thought we might combine business and pleasure.”
“Good!” assented his friend.
“Jamieson mentioned in his letter,” continued the Major, “that he wanted two good Cape-carts and four sets of double-harness from Muter in Berge Street, besides a host of other things which are not to be had for love or money in his parts; and I propose, therefore, to purchase all he requires in Cape Town, go round by sea to Mossel Bay, and from thence ‘trek’ up country to Ralfontein, where he lives. If Jamieson has any suitable horses we can take them off his hands and bring them down to Cape Town; when the price we shall get for them will cover all our expenses, and leave a good profit into the bargain. As for sport, we shall have our fill of it; altogether the trip, at this season of the year, should prove most enjoyable. Now, what say you?”
“Capital! excellent, my dear Mat!” exclaimed Mr Weston. “When do you propose to start, and who are to form the party?”
“Well,” the Major answered, “I saw Muter yesterday, and he has three carts all but finished. By putting on extra hands—which he is quite willing to do—two can be got ready for shipment in a week from this, and the sets of harness will be ready at the same time. Now, old Van Ryn’s schooner, the Knysna, makes two trips to Mossel Bay every month, and I see that she is advertised to sail on Saturday week; so we might take our passage in her, and that will give us ample time to prepare for the journey.”
“Very good,” assented Mr Weston. “And who are to go?”
“Why, there will be you and I, the two boys, and Patrick Keown, and Black William; six all told—a number sufficient to bring down a score of horses, and to hold our own should any roving bands of Caffres or Bosjesmans venture to attack us, which is not very probable.”
“How do you propose to travel back, father?” asked Tom, who was highly excited at the prospect of the trip.
“Ride, my boy; ride the whole distance from Ralfontein, and let the led-horses carry our baggage. I shall take a dozen pack-saddles with us, for Jamieson is certain to have at least twenty horses to dispose of.”
And after some further discussion, in which Mrs Flinders was invited to take part, the Major’s proposals were carried “nem con.”