_ CHAPTER VII
Dawn broke over the desert region of the Kalihari. The gray mists of the South African night slowly dissolved on the approach of the rising sun, until the crimson glow of the coming day, spreading high in the eastern heavens, tipped with gold the snow-clad peaks of the Drachenberg, and then, swiftly inundating the valley like a flood, chased away the shadows and filled the undulating plains with warmth and light.
Stretched out near the flickering embers of an expiring camp fire, not half a day's
trek from the Vaal River, lay what, at first view, appeared to be bundles of rags. A closer inspection showed them to be the prostrate forms of two men, asleep. Huddled close together, as if seeking all possible protection from the keen air of the open
veldt, they appeared grateful even for the little warmth that still came from the dying fire. Every now and again a tiny flame, bursting from one of the smouldering logs, would light up the recumbent figures, revealing a brief glimpse of the sleepers.
Both bore traces of desperate need. The rags they wore were filthy, and gave only scant protection from the weather, their emaciated faces and hollowed cheeks told eloquently of many days of fatigue and hunger; their feet, long since without shoes, were clumsily protected from the rocky
veldt by pieces of coarse sacking. For weeks they had tramped across the great, merciless desert, guided only by the stars, often losing the trail, begging their way from farm to farm, glad to do little jobs for friendly Boers in return for a meal, always in peril of attack by hostile Kaffirs, yet never halting, trudging ever onward in their anxiety to reach the coast. That was the haven they painfully sought--the open sea where at least there was a chance to die among their fellows and not perish miserably like dogs on the lonely. God-forsaken plains, with only the howling jackal and the screaming vulture to pick their bones.
They had tried and they had lost in the great gamble. Like thousands of other reckless adventurers attracted to the newly discovered diamond country, they had rushed out there from England, confident that they, too, could wrest from nature that wonderful gem, ever associated with tragedy and romance, mystery and crime, for the possession of which, since history began, men have been ready to give up their lives. Confident of their success, they had risked all on a turn of the wheel, and Fortune, mocking their puny efforts, had first ruined and then degraded them, afterward sending them back home to die.
It was now quite light. The fire, which had flickered up fitfully at intervals, was entirely extinguished. A chilly wind had started to blow from the plateau on the north. The strangers stirred uneasily in their sleep and awoke almost simultaneously. Sitting up with a start, they yawned and rubbed their eyes.
"What show o' gettin' some breakfast, Handsome?" asked the smaller of the two.
"Damned little!" was the profane and laconic rejoinder.
They were men still in the early thirties. One was short and stocky, his face slightly pock-marked. Pictures of a mermaid and anchor clumsily tattooed in indigo on his wrist showed him to be a sailor. In fact, Dick Hickey, boatswain on
H. H. S. Tartar, having taken French leave of his ship, as she lay in Cape Town Harbor, ran a very good chance of being taken back to England in irons as a deserter. Just now he was serenely indifferent as to what happened to him. Half dead from exposure and lack of nourishment, he would have gladly welcomed ship's officers or anybody else so long as there was some relief from his present sufferings. Meantime he spent what little breath he had left in cursing his hard luck, and blaming his companion as being solely responsible for his misfortune.
The latter was some few years his senior, stalwart and clean-limbed. He appeared to be over six feet in height and a man of splendid physique. At first glance it was evident that he came of superior stock. His shapely hands were grimy, his eyes of a peculiarly light shade of blue were hollow and haggard looking. His face, emaciated and ghastly, was almost livid. A clean-cut chin was covered with several weeks' growth of beard. Yet, underneath all these repellant externals, there was in his every attitude that indefinable refinement of manner which the world always associates with a gentleman. His dark hair, disheveled and matted, was unusually thick and bushy, with the exception of one spot, in the center of his forehead, where there was a single white lock, a capillary phenomenon, which imparted at once to his face from its very unusualness an individuality quite its own.
No one knew who he was or where he came from. They called him "Handsome Jack," partly because of his good looks and also on account of his reckless liberality with his cronies when flush. What his real name was no one knew or cared. It was a time when no one asked questions. As soon as the news of the astonishing diamond discoveries reached Europe, men began to flock to South Africa. Adventurers from all over the world gathered in Cape Town, a motley crew of incompetents and blacklegs, an investigation into the antecedents of any of whom was apt to have unpleasant results. That he was a professional gambler, he made no attempt to conceal, and that he had knocked about the world a good deal was also to be inferred from his wide knowledge of men and places. A man of aggressive, domineering personality, he was not without a certain following, attracted by his skill with cards and dice, but he was more feared than liked, and his reputation as a dangerous gunman kept inquisitive strangers at a safe distance. He was well known in every den frequented by the criminal and vicious, and it was in one of these resorts that Hickey had met him. The sailor had lost all his savings at faro. Dead broke, he was ready for anything which promised to recoup his fortunes. Handsome Jack laid before him a scheme which would make them both rich beyond the dreams of avarice. The recent discoveries on the Vaal had startled the world. A native had picked up a stone weighing over 80 carats. They might be equally lucky. All that was needed was pluck and patience. The plan was to make their way as best they could to the Vaal fields, jump a claim, and dig for diamonds.
They set out secretly, avoiding the larger caravans, making the long trek across the great plateau, partly by ox wagon, partly on foot. The trail led through a wild, desolate country, and gradually they left civilization hundreds of miles behind them. As far as the eye could reach in every direction was a monotonous desert of stone and sand, broken every now and then by small kopjies, the sides and summits of which were sparsely covered with thick brush and coarse grass. Scattered here and there, some twenty miles apart, were the homesteads of the Boer farmers and the thatched kraals of the dark-skinned Kaffirs. Over this lonely waste sheep and cattle wandered undisturbed by springbok, ostriches, crocodiles, mountain lions and other wild animals.
In this barren spot Nature had concealed her treasures. A child's cry of joy over a pretty pebble led to their discovery. The little son of a Boer farmer was playing one day in the fields near the homestead when his eye was attracted by something glittering at his feet. Stooping, he picked up a stone unlike any other he had ever seen. Interested, he began to look for others and found a number of them, which with great glee he carried home to show his mother. The worthy woman paid little heed to what, in her ignorance, she regarded merely as pretty stones, but she happened to speak about them to a neighboring farmer, who asked to look at them. Already tired of his new plaything, the child had thrown the stones away, but one was found in the field close by, and the neighbor, a shrewd Dutchman, who had heard of certain stones picked up in that locality having a certain value, offered to buy it. The good woman laughed at the idea of selling a stone, and made him a present of it. The farmer took it to the nearest town, where experts declared it to be a twenty-one carat diamond, worth $2,500. Round the world the telegraph flashed this remarkable story, and the rush to South Africa began. That was in 1870. In May of that year there were about a hundred men at the diggings in the Vaal fields. Before the next month had closed there were seven hundred. By April of the following year five thousand men were digging frantically in the mud along the Vaal and Orange rivers.
It was a rough, lawless gathering of men of every nationality under the sun, the criminal and the vicious, the idle and the worthless. The region being inside the border lines of the waste territory that lay between the Boers and the Hottentots, it was therefore No Man's Land, and beyond the pale of established law and order. The miners, compelled, in self-protection, to institute laws of their own, appointed committees to issue licenses, keep the peace, and punish offenders. Natives were whipped; white men were banished, and from this rough-and-ready justice there was no appeal.
When Handsome and Hickey arrived at the diggings, the fever was still at its height, and having secured a claim, they went to work with a will. Claims were thirty feet square, and to prevent speculation in them the owner, in order to hold title, was compelled to toil incessantly. It was hard work, harder work than Handsome had ever been put to in all his life. At the end of a few days, the skin was scraped off his hands from shoveling, and he had such a kink in his back that he couldn't straighten up. But he had come to stay, and a little; discomfort was not going to scare him. Their implements, purchased at the diggings, consisted of pick, shovel and rocker, this last being a box arranged on rockers like a baby's cradle. It was a clumsy yet useful contrivance, in which were fastened, one above the other, wire screens of varying fineness, the coarsest being on top. As Handsome dug the yellow earth out of the hole he shoveled it into the top screen. When it was full Hickey poured in water while he rocked. The water washed the dirt through the holes, leaving the stones. These were taken out, emptied onto a sorting table, where Handsome scraped off the worthless peddles [Transcriber's note: pebbles?], saving anything that seemed of value. As a rule, and much to Hickey's disgust, the table was scraped clean. Sometimes the sailor would make a joyful exclamation on seeing some glittering pieces of rock crystal, thinking he had found a prize, only to be disappointed a moment later when a more experienced miner assured him it was worthless. Both soon learned, however, to recognize at sight the precious gems, and, although few came their way, they saw many brought to the surface by luckier neighbors. One day sounds of great rejoicing was heard in their tent. They had worked hard for over a month without finding anything, and were feeling greatly discouraged and dejected, when all at once something happened. Handsome had been rocking the cradle in a listless sort of way, and Hickey was sorting the residue, when suddenly the sailor gave a wild whoop of delight. Darting forward, he held up a glittering stone. Examination proved it to be a genuine diamond, weighing about ten carats, and valued at about $1,000. It was not much of a find, but it was enough to turn their heads. Dropping all work, they both proceeded to have "a good time," going on a drunken orgie, which lasted just as long as the money held out. When they came to their senses they were worse off than before. Weakened by prolonged debauch, they were in no mood for digging, and to complicate matters some one had jumped their claim during their absence. Even their tools had disappeared. Without resource or credit, they could not procure others. Yet work they must to keep the wolf from the door, so, cursing others when they had only themselves to blame, Handsome secured employment, digging for another miner, while the sailor performed such occasional odd jobs as he could pick up.
Broken in spirit, enraged at the long spell of ill luck, Handsome began to drink heavily. Every cent he made went to the grog shop, and Hickey, never over fond of work at any time, was only too glad of an excuse to drink with him. The two cronies filled themselves with rum until their reason tottered, and they became beasts, refusing to work, growing ugly, even menacing, preferring to beg the food their empty stomachs craved for rather than toil, as before. At last they made themselves such a nuisance that the attention of the vigilance committee was called to their particular case. In short order they were hauled up and ordered to leave camp. There was no alternative but to obey, and thus began the dreary trek homeward of the two broken and miserable outcasts.
"We cawn't go on much longer like this," moaned Hickey.
He made a painful effort to get up, but his joints, stiff from the all-night exposure, refused to obey his will, and he fell back with a groan. Handsome, more successful, had already risen, and was scanning the horizon on every side. Except for the kopjies, which in places obstructed the view, there was a clear range for ten miles or more. If anything alive moved within the field of vision, they could not help seeing it, but nothing greeted their eyes. There was neither man or beast to be seen; seemingly they were still many weary miles from the nearest homestead.
"We must go on," replied Handsome determinedly. Impatiently he added: "What do you want to do--stay here and let the jackals gnaw your bones?"
Hickey, too weak to argue, shook his head despondently.
"You go on, Handsome. Leave me here. I cawn't go any further, s' help me Gawd! My feet hurt somethin' awful. I'm all in. If ye get 'ome safe, go and see the old folks, will ye, and tell 'em I put up a good fight?"
"Hell!" retorted the other savagely. "Don't squat there crying like a baby. Be a man. Get up and let's hike it to the nearest homestead." Shading his eyes as he gazed earnestly over the plain, he added: "I see smoke in the distance. It can't be far off. Come----"
Suddenly, to his astonishment, Hickey leaped to his feet, with an agility unheard of in one so nearly dying. Pointing to the nearest kopjie, he shouted hoarsely:
"Look! There's a man--near that kopjie--he's coming this way!"
It was no dream. A man, unarmed and unaccompanied, was advancing toward them. From his dress and manner, it was easy to see that he was not a Boer farmer. He looked more like an Englishman or an American.
Scarcely able to believe the evidence of his own eyes, Handsome watched his progress.
As he came nearer, he waved his hand to show that he saw them, and he walked faster, as if afraid that they might disappear before he could reach them. Hickey, unable to restrain himself, had run forward, and in a few minutes they met.
"Who are you?" demanded the stranger, whose face, shaded as it was by a big canvas helmet, it was difficult to see.
"Miners from the Vaal," answered Hickey. "Who are you?"
"I am a Frenchman--François Chalat. I am ze valet of an American gentleman. Our party not know ze road. We has wandered from what you call ze trail. Will you show ze way to us?"
"Where's your party?" demanded Hickey.
François pointed to a kopjie about three miles distant.
"There! Behind zat hill."
Just at that moment, Handsome came lumbering up almost on the run, anxious to know what it was all about.
"Have you any whiskey?" was his first breathless ejaculation. "We're starving."
The valet made no answer. He was too startled to speak. Drawing back a few steps, he stared blankly at the big fellow. For several minutes he stood as if struck dumb. Presently, when he found his speech, he asked in awed tones:
"Who are you? What's your name?"
"What business is it of yours?" snapped Handsome, with some show of irritation. "Have you any food or whiskey? We're starving."
The valet made no answer, but just stared in astonished silence at the big six-footer who towered above him. For a moment he had thought it a trick that his master had played upon him. By walking quickly he had got there before him, and dressed up in these rags just to have fun with him. But that matted hair and that chin, with its weeks of growth of beard. He could not be deceived in that. No, this man was not his employer. Could it be possible, was it--his twin brother long since given up for dead? The same physique, the same features, the same eyes, the same thick, bushy hair with the single lock of white hair in the center of the forehead. There was no room for doubt. It was his employer's brother. It was just as well to make friends. Drawing a flask from his pocket and holding it out, he said:
"Here, take a drink. You need it."
Eagerly, Handsome snatched it out of his hand.
"You bet we do."
He took a deep gulp and handed it to Hickey, whose bleary eyes had watered at the very sight of the flask. François turned to Handsome.
"Where is ze trail?" he asked.
"Over yonder," growled the big fellow in surly tones and making a sweeping gesture with his arm which embraced every quarter of the compass.
"Rather indefinite, I should say," smiled the valet. "Where you go? Are you on ze way to ze mines?"
Handsome Jack took another pull at the flask. His good humor returning in proportion as he felt warmed up by the spirits, he said more amiably:
"I guess not. My pal and I have enough of the cursed place--ain't we, Hickey?"
The sailor man glanced dolefully at his limping foot, and nodded his head in acquiescence.
"You show us the trail home. My boss is very rich man," interrupted François quickly. "He pay anything."
Handsome pricked up his ears.
"Oh, he's rich, is he?"
The valet laughed as he replied:
"All Americans rich--très riches. Did you ever hear of poor Americans?"
Hickey took another drink and snickered. Handsome looked thoughtful. After a pause, he said:
"What your boss' name?"
"Monsieur Traynor of the Americo-African Mining Co."
Handsome started.
"What? Kenneth Traynor, of the Americo-African Mining Company--the people who made those sensational finds."
"Yes--he's vice-president of the company."
Handsome gave a low, expressive whistle.
"He's rich--all right! Do you know what those stones are worth?"
"Over a million dollairs."
"And he came out here to----"
The valet nodded.
"
Oui--zat's it--to get ze big diamonds. We're on our way back from ze mines now. He has ze stones in his possession."
"And taking them to New York?" gasped Handsome; "a million dollars' worth?"
"Yes--taking zem to New York. That's what he came out for. We want to reach ze coast as soon as possible. Again I ask. Will you guide us back to ze trail?"
For a few moments Handsome made no answer. The thoughtful expression on his pale, care-worn face showed that he was thinking hard. What was passing in his mind no one knew, but whatever it was it caused the lines about his strong mouth to tighten and the steely blue eyes to flash. A million dollars? God! What will a man not do for a million dollars? Turning to the valet, he said hastily:
"Yes, I'm on. Take me to your party. I'll show you the trail. Quick, lead the way." _