Old Hendrik's Tales

by Arthur Owen Vaughan

The children were accompanying Old Hendrik from the tobacco lands to the mealie lands farther out, and on the way, in crossing the broken, bush-grown spruit between, the eldest boy marked a fresh earth of the Ratel or honey-badger. “Dat’s bad to see if we don’t do sometin’,” said Old Hendrik. “Dere’ll be mighty little honey on dis place ’fore long if we don’t drop on to Mr Ratel.”

“But, Ou’ Ta’,” demanded Annie, “why is the Ratel always after the honey?”

“Well, Ainkye,” answered Old Hendrik gravely, “it’s ’cause it’s in de blood. Some folk ses it’s dis way an’ some ses it’s dat way but as soon as Ou’ Ratel sees ’em comin’ to ax, he fair dives into diggin’, an’ he’s half-way down to Dublin, as your mammy ses, ’fore dey comes to where he started f’m. It ain’t dat dese hyer Ratels ain’t proud o’ de reason, ’cause dey tinks it was mighty smart o’ deir grandaddy. It’s yust dey rinks nobody knows, an’ so dey won’t tell.

“But I knows, ’cause my ole grandaddy tole me, an’ it happen in his grandaddy’s time. You see it was de grandaddy of all dese yere Ratels, an it was when he was a young kerel in his daddy’s house. Dere ain’t no doubt he was slim, baiah slim, an’ he was yust dat gone on honey dat he even played tricks on his ole daddy, till at last he tried on dat about de sack o’ honey an’ de honey-gum tree. Den—well, you listen.

“Dis young Seeunkie Ratel was de sort dat his mammy was al’ays a-fallin’ out wid his daddy over him, reckonin’ his daddy was al’ays a-tinkin’ he was up to some skellumness or other. An I reckon myse’f dat de ole man know’d. However, de ole man had a big goatskin chock full o’ de finest honey, an’ he kep’ it under de bed in de sleepin’ chamber, so it ’ud be nice an handy—an’ safe. In a mawnin’ dey’d all get up, an de ole daddy he’d go out an’ have a look round, an’ de ole mammy she’d be busy a-gettin’ de breakfas’ ready, while little missy Wilhelmina Ratel she’d play about, inside or outside or underfoot, yust like little girls does when deir mammies is busy. An’ all dis time young Seeunkie Ratel he’d be—well—dat’s when de honey ’ud be doin’ de dis-appearin’.

“What he used to do was to wait till de rest was outside or in de eatin’ room, an’ den he’d sneak back into de sleepin’ chamber, pull out his knife, snick a chunk o’ dis sugary honey out o’ de bag, slip it into his pocket an’ off out to have a look round too, ’fore breakfas’. Dat’s when he’d scoff dis chunk o’ honey.

“Well, de ole daddy he sees his honey lookin’ less an’ less every day, an’ he scratch his head an’ he say to his wife: ‘Mammy,’ ses he, ‘dat’s mighty funny about dat honey. It’s a-goin’ somewheres.’

“‘Well,’ ses she, ‘what you expect? You let dat good-for-nuffin’ Wilhelmina play about yust as she likes an’ do what she likes, an’ yet you won’t never b’lieve nawtin’ I tells you about her. I know’d she’d be in some mischief soon,’ ses she, for Ole Missis Ratel was one o’ dese women what’s all for deir skellum of a boy, an’ so de daddy has to be good to de little girl hisse’f.

“Well, ole daddy he sit down an’ he tink an’ tink, an’ old mammy she go out an’ ketch hold o’ little Wilhelmina an’ spank an’ spank, but young Seeunkie he stays out on de veldt an smack an’ smack his lips on de honey, an’ keep de tail o’ one eye over his shoulder to watch if his daddy’s comin’.