‘But if they have Swaziland and Amatongaland beyond, right up to the sea, thus securing a seaport, how can they be enclosed? That means that they would be less enclosed than they are now by British territory,’
‘Ha, ha!’ laughed Thomson. ‘Do you think they will ever get it? No, my dear fellow, I am sorry to disappoint you, but a verbal promise does not count in diplomacy. Swaziland they may get—perhaps—but a seaport—never. It was only a bait held out to the stupid Boers. The bait will be drawn in gradually, until the Boers are enticed into the trap laid for them, when even the bait will be taken from them, and they will be starved out in the trap, until, like a starved and trapped lion, they will have to submit. The joke of the whole thing is that Hofmeyr, the head of the Colonial Afrikander Bond, has been used by Rhodes to accomplish his object.’
‘Yes, you are right. But it is not a joke, it is disgraceful, shameful, to be bitten thus by your own dogs. I wonder that a man like Hofmeyr—who is supposed to be a patriotic Afrikander—cannot see what he is assisting to do. Can’t he see that he is assisting Rhodes to kill all the national vitality of the Afrikander race in South Africa? Does he not know that round the independence of the Transvaal revolves the whole hope of Afrikander national existence? Is he blind, or is he a traitor? I used to be proud of the Afrikander Bond, but now I am beginning to be ashamed of them, when they support a man like Rhodes. A man who works, firstly, for self-aggrandizement, and secondly, of course, for Imperialism.’
All the Englishmen present laughed at Steve’s earnestness and bitterness against Hofmeyr for working thus against the Transvaal. But they were accustomed to his earnest patriotism, and respected him for it.
‘Well, old boy, it may be that Hofmeyr has been squared by Rhodes; who knows? Rhodes is known for his squaring propensities. Or it may be that Hofmeyr is wiser than you, and has seen that it is foolish to kick against the pricks, and that it is better to belong to the glorious British Empire, with its traditions of military power and glory, its traditions of wealth in gold and literature.’
‘It may be so,’ replied Steve; ‘but as a leading Afrikander, I would rather hope and believe that he is only blind, and that some day his eyes will be opened, and that he shall see Rhodes as he is. As to cornering the Transvaal, let them go on. Only I would warn our enemies that though we are a quiet and peace-loving people, preferring to till the land and herd our cattle to fighting, yet I say I warn Rhodes and his clique that an Afrikander at bay is fiercer and more dangerous than any tiger or lion at bay, so let them look out.’
‘But, Steve, why are you such an intense Republican? why will you not be satisfied to live under the English flag? Then you would have the right to call upon the whole British Empire to protect you. Then you would be a member of the greatest nation on earth. Then you can say, “I am a subject to a queen upon whose dominions the sun never sets.” Is not that better than to have a second-rate republic, with no traditions older than say twenty years; with hardly any literature at all; what more would you have than I have said you would have as a British subject?’
‘We would be FREE!’ was Steve’s curt reply.
‘Free! what is the good of being free in a country like this? As I have said, you can only hope to have a second-rate republic, the population of which at best is but a mongrel race.’
‘A mongrel race!’ echoed Steve. ‘We are a mixed race, if you like, but a mixture of the best blood of Europe. In our veins run the best blood of France, Holland and Germany. We are descended from heroes; our forefathers have been heroes ever since they left their ancestral homes in Europe for religion and principle: and we are heroes to-day, struggling, as we are, for national existence and freedom, and that against the mightiest empire on earth, as you describe it; but justice and right must prevail in the end. A mongrel race, you say? A race, I say, that has the grandest future before them of any race upon earth. Look at them; toiling sons of Nature! Do they not remind you of the rough diamonds dug out in Kimberley? hardy, strong, persevering, unpretending, but God-fearing as they are. Look at the few of them that have received the least bit of polish. Do they not shine enough to blind your eyes as you look upon them? Wait till they have all been polished and rubbed into shape, and then you will see what a race of men God has raised in this wilderness?’ Steve’s eyes were shining with enthusiasm. He seemed to see in imagination the future he was describing.