Swallow: A Tale of the Great Trek Read online

  And now I will tell of the finding of Ralph Kenzie many years ago.

  To begin at the beginning, my husband, Jan Botmar, is one of thewell-known Boer family of that name, the most of whom lived in theGraafreinet district in the Old Colony till some of them trekked intothe Transkei, when I was still a young girl, to be as far as they couldfrom the heart of the British power. Nor did they trek for a littlereason. Listen and judge.

  One of the Bezuidenhouts, Frederick, was accused of treating someblack slave of his cruelly, and a body of the accursed _Pandours_,the Hottentots whom the English had made into a regiment, were sent toarrest him. He would not suffer that these black creatures should layhands upon a Boer, so he fled to a cave and fought there till he wasshot dead. Over his open grave his brethren and friends swore to takevengeance for his murder, and fifty of them raised an insurrection. Theywere pursued by the _Pandours_ and by burghers more law abiding or morecautious, till Jan Bezuidenhout, the brother of Frederick, was shotalso, fighting to the last while his wife and little son loaded therifles. Then the rest were captured and put upon their trial, and to therage and horror of all their countrymen the brutal British governor ofthat day, who was named Somerset, ordered five of them to be hanged,among them my husband's father and uncle. Petitions for mercy availednothing, and these five were tied to a beam like Kaffir dogs yonder atSlagter's Nek, they who had shed the blood of no man. Yes, yes, it istrue, for Jan, my man, saw it; he saw his father and his uncle hangedlike dogs. When they pushed them from the beam four of the ropesbroke--perhaps they had been tampered with, I know not--but still thedevils who murdered them would show no mercy. Jan ran to his father andcast his arms about him, but they tore him away.

  "Do not forget, my son," he gasped as he lay there on the ground withthe broken rope about his neck, nor did Jan ever forget.

  It was after this that the Botmars trekked into the Transkei, and withthem some other families, amongst whom were the Naudes, my parents. Herein the Transkei the widow Botmar and my father were near neighbours,their steads being at a distance from each other of about three hoursupon horseback, or something over twenty miles. In those days, I may sayit without shame now, I was the prettiest girl in the Transkei, a greatdeal prettier than my granddaughter Suzanne there, although some thinkwell of her looks, but not so well as she thinks of them herself, forthat would be impossible. I have been told that I have noble Frenchblood in my veins, though I care little for this, being quite content tobe one of the Boers, who are all of noble blood. At least I believethat my great-grandfather was a French Huguenot Count who fled from hiscountry to escape massacre because of his religion. From him and hiswife Suzanne, so it is said, we women of the Naudes get our beauty, forwe have always been beautiful; but the loveliest of the race by far wasmy daughter Suzanne who married the Englishman, Ralph Kenzie, from whichtime our good looks have begun to fall off, though it is true that hewas no ill-favoured man.

  Whatever the cause, in my youth, I was not like the other Boer girls,who for the most part are stout, heavy, and slow of speech, even beforethey are married, nor did I need to wear a _kapje_ to keep a pink andwhite face from burning in the sun. I was not tall, but my figure wasrounded and my movements were as quick as my tongue. Also I had brownhair that curled and brown eyes beneath it, and full red lips, which allthe young men of that district--and there were six of them who can becounted--would have given their best horse to kiss, with the saddle andbridle thrown in. But remember this, Suzanne, I never suffered them todo so, for in my time girls knew better what was right.

  Well, among all these suitors I favoured Jan Botmar, the old cripple whosits yonder, though in those days he was no cripple but the properestman a girl could wish to see. My father was against such a match, forhe had the old French pride of race in him, and thought little of theBotmar family, as though we were not all the children of one God--exceptthe black Kaffirs, who are the children of the devil. But in the end hegave way, for Jan was well-to-do; so after we had "opsitted" togetherseveral times according to our customs, and burnt many very longcandles,[*] we were married and went to live on a farm of our own at adistance. For my part I have never regretted it, although doubtless Imight have done much better for myself; and if Jan did, he has been wiseenough not to say so to me. In this country most of us women must choosea man to look after--it is a burden that Heaven lays upon us--so onemay as well choose him one fancies, and Jan was my fancy, though why heshould have been I am sure I do not know. Well, if he had any wits lefthe would speak up and tell what a blessing I have been to him, and howoften my good sense has supplied the lack of his, and how I forgave him,yes, and helped him out of the scrape when he made a fool of himselfwith--but I will not write of that, for it makes me angry, and as likelyas not I should throw something at him before I had finished, which hewould not understand.

  [*] It is customary among the Boers for the suitor to sit up alone at night with the object of his choice. Should the lady favour him, she lights long candles, but if he does not please her she produces "ends," signifying thereby that she prefers his room to his company.--Author.

  No, no; I do not regret it, and, what is more, when my man dies I shallnot be long behind him. Ah! they may talk, all these wise young people;but, after all, what is there better for a woman than to love some man,the good and the bad of him together, to bear his children and to sharehis sorrows, and to try to make him a little better and a little lessselfish and unfortunate than he would have been alone? Poor men! Withoutus women their lot would be hard indeed, and how they will get on inheaven, where they are not allowed to marry, is more than I can guess.

  So we married, and within a year our daughter was born and christened bythe family name of Suzanne after me, though almost from her cradlethe Kaffirs called her "Swallow," I am not sure why. She was a verybeautiful child from the first, and she was the only one, for I was illat her birth and never had any more children. The other women with theircoveys of eight and ten and twelve used to condole with me about this,and get a sharp answer for their pains. I had one which always shuttheir mouths, but I won't ask the girl here to set it down. An onlydaughter was enough for me, I said, and if it wasn't I shouldn't havetold them so, for the truth is that it is best to take these things aswe find them, and whether it be one or ten, to declare that that is justas we would wish it. I know that when we were on the great trek and Isaw the _kinderchies_ of others dying of starvation, or massacred indozens by the Kaffir devils, ah! then I was glad that we had no morechildren. Heartaches enough my ewe lamb Suzanne gave me during thosebitter years when she was lost. And when she died, having lived out herlife just before her husband, Ralph Kenzie, went on commando with hisson to the Zulu war, whither her death drove him, ah! then it ached forthe last time. When next my heart aches it shall be with joy to findthem both in Heaven.