In a day or two, some of the farmers of the district arrived, bringing with them their families, and proposing to establish a bivouac on the plains. This Mr Daveney at once acceded to; but, deprecating the system of leaving the homesteads as lurking-places for the enemy, he laid his own plans of defence before the colonists, who, satisfied that their women and children would be under safe guardianship with the little force the magistrate could organise, consented to return to the principal farms, and garrison them at once. “Hurrah!” cried a sturdy young settler, with a complexion bronzed from its original English hue to the swarthy colour of the Hottentot; “I said we ought to make a stand for the credit of Old England. I never saw the mother-country, as you call her, but I have a respect for her, and I take it, the crack of a few Brummagem rifles will stop the mouths of these yelling devils long before she takes the trouble to send us soldiers. Well, I suppose she intends it for a compliment, and thinks we are able to take care of ourselves; and so we are.” He stooped from his saddle to receive a parting token from a pretty creature, who had been making her toilette, after the trek, in a cumbrous but cozy old wagon, and who, though sunburnt, looked as fresh as any girl on a fair-day in England. There were tears gathering in her eyes, but she brushed them away, and bidding “God speed him,” with an attempt at a smile, dropped the curtains of the vehicle, as he galloped in hot haste after his companions, far in front, with Mr Daveney at their head.
For Frankfort, well instructed by his host, and tolerably experienced in the warlike character of the enemy he had to guard against, was left in command of the settlement for the present; in a week Daveney’s magisterial duties in the district would terminate, and he would return with safe escort.
These had scarcely departed, ere the good missionary, Mr Trail, arrived with his wife and children, and begged for room to outspan; but Mr Daveney’s dwelling was of India-rubber quality, for a room was offered to the Trails, and they accepted it; but, occupying the wagon by night, this apartment was appropriated by Mr Trail for school purposes; and the night after the magistrate’s departure, as Frankfort and Ormsby were returning from their superintendence of the outworks, they were taken by surprise at the sound of the Evening Hymn chanted in good harmony by some thirty voices.
Frankfort instinctively lifted his hat from his head; Ormsby remained covered; there was silence, then the door opened, and a motley assemblage walked forth decorously: there was the broad-chested, square-faced Dutch vrouw, and her children, sturdy as herself; the Hottentot and Bechuana serving-girls, in flaunting douks; two or three Kafir children, who said their fathers were in the bush; some Englishwomen, wives of the district farmers, and their children, blue-eyed and fair-haired, like their Saxon ancestors. Then came Eleanor, Marion, and Mrs Trail; and lastly Mr Trail, with two little bright-faced creatures hanging at his skirts. No, not lastly, for May and Fitje, and their merry-eyed infant, brought up the rear.
As the ladies stepped into the trellised passage, Ormsby raised his hat and bowed—Frankfort said nothing; but he thought how one-half the world did homage to the creature, forgetting the Creator. Ormsby followed Marion into the house. Frankfort waited to address Mr Trail, with whose reputation he was well acquainted; but he was prevented in his purpose by hearing Eleanor say to the missionary, “You will come to me, then, in five minutes. I have much to tell you. You can scarcely feel sorrow; but you will certainly be shocked.”
She stopped suddenly, seeing Frankfort standing at her side; a glow, like sunset upon snow, mantled on her marble cheek, her eyes fell to the ground, and her embarrassment was only relieved by the sound of Mrs Daveney’s voice calling to her to come and assist in some household concerns.
Mr Trail apparently did not notice what I have related; he gave his attention at once to Frankfort, who was desirous of having all the defences completed before the host’s return.
It was no easy matter to enclose hastily a number of scattered outbuildings, occupying nearly two acres of ground. The wagons formed a capital breastwork for the front of the dwelling, already tolerably secure; the orchard and garden-ground flanking the rear were surrounded by hedgework of the prickly mimosa, forming a kind of abati (Note 1), in which picked men were to be placed as checks on the enemy’s advance; the stables, cattle, and sheep kraals, separated from the dwelling by a miniature vineyard, were as yet scarcely defensible—the stone wall, as I have before related, being stopped in its progress for want of hands. But now a redoubt was in speedy progress, the entrances being protected at night by piles of thorn-bushes; and the vineyard having in peaceful days been irrigated by a mountain rill, there was abundance of water; there was a chance of the supply being cut off by the cunning foe, but tanks and barrels were to be filled, which Mr Trail doubted not would last as long as water was required; for the plan of the defence was so admirable, that it was scarcely probable the Kafirs would make an open assault; still the cattle were a great temptation, and foraging parties were daily bringing in fresh captures.
“But,” said Mr Trail, pulling out his watch, “I must leave you now, sir, and at nine o’clock I propose assembling the family, and closing the day with thanksgiving to the Almighty for the mercies with which He surrounds us. We shall meet again then, I trust;” and leaving Frankfort in the vineyard, the missionary returned to the house.
What could this interview between Eleanor and Mr Trail mean? “Pshaw,” thought Frankfort, “what is it to me?” and then the mantling cheek, the quivering lip, the trembling hand, on which he had discovered the mystic ring guarded by a circlet—a gilded snake—came between him and his reason, and he paced the green retreat, regardless of the fading day, till the moon rose high and clear, and the path was traced with the graceful pattern of the vine foliage.