The little procession moved slowly and silently across the gra.s.sy plain.

The people at Annerley watched it till the glittering bayonets of the escort were lost in the haze; and when "the master" was fairly out of sight, Markland, the old settler, put the house in order, and a.s.sumed the command.

Daveney had planned his line of march intending to avoid Sir John Manvers's camp; but, on the third day's journey, the sound of harmonious voices swelling in chorus struck on the surprised ears of the party. A deep glen lay just below; the cavalcade halted; they could see nothing, for the cliffs overhung the gorge. The sounds drew near--'twas an old Scotch air, very martial and stirring, especially in that deep solitude.

In front was an opening, an outlet from the glen. Mr Daveney and Marion rode forward, and looked down.

Soldiers singing on a march! Reader, did you ever hear it? Ah, it is worth a world of fine, well-taught, scientific melodies! You should have seen them in this mountain-pa.s.s. They were Highlanders, not kilted, but they wore the "tartan trews."

Beating time with steady tread to the n.o.ble chorus, they pa.s.sed below the cliff from which Daveney and his daughter Marion watched them.

Truly this had a singular effect in that ravine, so like a Scottish glen, with mountains looming far and near, and--oh! rare in Southern Africa--a waterfall tumbling and foaming over h.o.a.ry rocks.

Softly it rose and fell upon the air, again burst forth in full harmony as the glen widened, and died away in the shade where the pathway narrowed between tall hills.

All was still once more, save the murmur of the waterfall. The Daveneys took their station for the night. The escort formed its cordon round the little bivouac, and May directed the lighting of the fires and preparations for the usual sunset meal.

Midnight--Daveney held that watch himself.

"Who goes there?"

"Friends," answered a voice--it was Ormsby's. He was in command of a company of soldiers. Sir John Manvers was extending his force. The Daveneys found themselves unexpectedly within the lines of the British troops.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE BATTLE.

I have said that the salute of the hors.e.m.e.n who advanced to meet Vander Roey's band was answered by a corresponding movement from the latter.

Each party moved along its path in stern silence. They met at the foot of the lull, and then palm met palm, as though sealing a sullen but determined compact.

Vander Roey's countenance proclaimed evil tidings. No one liked to ask him questions; besides, the very advance of the pilgrims over the hills was a signal that hope was lost. Lodewyk was the spokesman, while Vander Roey and his wife rode forward with Vanbloem, a son of the settler introduced in the early chapters of this work. He was young, active, brave, and clever. Each of these two men had much to tell the other.

Lodewyk strode on declaiming--Vander Roey told again how he had been turned from Sir John Manvers's door with scorn.

The colonists had sympathised with him at the insult, but what could they do? All hope of redress of grievances was over, and no better time could be chosen for _trekking_. The troops were marching towards Kafirland. Sir John was as bewildered as a bird in a mist. Here were men--pointing to Lyle and Brennard--who could tell them that the eyes of England, and France, and Holland were upon them. Lyle was a patriot, had suffered in the cause of patriotism; he had been cast upon the sh.o.r.es of Africa for a great purpose. They already knew the services that Brennard had rendered them; well, Lyle had been an able colleague-- his plans had proved his ability; through his means arms and ammunition had been safely conveyed through various branches of the colony; every Boer was armed, every honest man was roused to a just sense of his forlorn and degraded position; but the time had come--if they were permitted to go in peace, well and good; if not--

"Ah! if not," said Lodewyk's brother, "we will dress ourselves in thunder, and mark a boundary-line for ourselves with blood."

They reached the bivouac: it was more wretched than the last. The plains were saturated with water from the heavy rains which had prevailed on the eastern flats. There were but few tents or wagon-tilts, and these were ragged and damp, serving as poor coverings to the sickly, shivering wretches beneath.

Lyle's first salutation from a sallow man, who sat making a coffin for his wife and baby, was, "Welcome to the place of graves." He pa.s.sed on; some squalid children in rags were stirring up a pool of stagnant water to find frogs; an agueish woman with parched lips remonstrated with them for troubling the waters; she wished to slake her thirst. Two women were grinding corn between stones, others looked greedily on. There was neither milk nor bread. Some wretched sheep, lately brought in by a foraging party, awaited their doom--they had been earned at great cost; three men lay dying of their wounds; in truth, it was a sorry sight.

Poor Gray was more disheartened than ever. The Boers had begun to look upon him with a suspicious eye; it was evident he was not a volunteer.

He felt that he was despised, and his heart died within him. He sat down upon an old pack-saddle; he looked so weary, so dejected, that young Vanbloem's wife took pity on him. She was an Englishwoman. She spoke kindly to him in his own language. The deserter could have wept, but for very shame.

"Come hither," said she, "you poor young Englishman; has your country done you any wrong, that you should turn rebel? You look miserable enough in mind and body, but I can give you something for your heart to rest upon,--see here."

She raised a canva.s.s screen, and showed him Amayeka fast asleep.

Amayeka had found a kind heart, and trusted it.

Gray's face shone with sudden light.

Anne Vanbloem dropped the screen: "There," said she; "it is good for you to know she is safe; be satisfied with that for the present."

Poor Amayeka! Vanbloem was the man who had rescued her from the torture, and his wife "had compa.s.sion on her."

Gray would have given much to have poured out his heart to the young Dutchman; but Vander Roey's disastrous mission and its results had fanned the flame of rebellion to such a height, that no one could expect to meet with a hearing who was not resolved on freedom, or on fighting for it; besides, Gray knew that his confession might draw on him the imputation of cowardice, and then--alas for resolution!--here was Amayeka, the only being on earth who truly loved him.

Doda was as philosophical on discovering that his daughter was in safe hands as he would have been had he heard that she had died by torture.

In the latter case, he would have excused his apparent want of feeling by alleging that grief was useless--a Kafir has as little idea of gratuitous sorrow as gratuitous labour.

Brennard expected that Zoonah would bring them news from the colony, and it was resolved in council that, on the arrival of the scouts from different points, if the intelligence of each agreed with the other, the bivouac should be entirely broken up.

Vander Roey had brought some supplies with him, and parties were formed to obtain provisions from the hunting-grounds. In these expeditions Gray redeemed his character for skill and courage, albeit he was no longer strong and lithe of limb as he had been.

He saw little of Amayeka. Anne Vanbloem had her own plans about her, and changed the subject whenever Gray alluded to her. He saw, however, that the young Boeress meant kindly, and was obliged to content himself with that idea.

Anne and Gray were left together one afternoon; he had been a.s.sisting her in carrying goods from her tent to the wagons, which were to move towards the Modder River on the morrow with various stores and a strong escort of the Boers, Vander Roey's object being to advance gradually beyond the colony, and to give battle, if driven to such an alternative, in a position of which he knew the advantages. Thus the elder men, women, children, goods, and arms, were sent off from time to time by small divisions. The Kafir scouts, and five or six more traders from the British settlements, were anxiously expected; and, although the Boers did not contemplate success on the side of the savages in the present strife in Kafirland, they knew that the warfare would be such as to hara.s.s the troops, and keep them employed for a considerable time.

In the mean time he despatched his message of defiance to Sir John Manvers.

"It is very clear, young man," remarked Anne Vanbloem, "that your heart is not in this business."

"I am a miserable creature," replied the poor young deserter; "my heart is, indeed, quite opposed to the treachery I am called upon to join in."

"And mine also," said Anne; "I do not see my way; but, by G.o.d's help, Vanbloem shall have no part in this war."

It may be believed that Lyle improved every hour of his new acquaintance with Vander Roey. He ascertained from the chief that the great body of the Dutch had formed a settlement near a river, which, it was necessary to cross ere the English could satisfy themselves of the existence of the great Salt Lake. The Boers and aborigines had explored this part long ago [Note 1]; but men of science professed themselves unbelievers on this point. Lyle showed his colleagues the advantage of such a position, and stirred up the rest of the unfortunate wanderers into the belief that it would be as unavailing as cowardly to yield without a struggle. Rumours had reached Lyle and Brennard of the prospect of Sir Adrian Fairfax's return to South Africa, but they determined on keeping this to themselves.

The scouts came in, Zoonah among them; Lyle took the latter aside, and learned from him how he had hovered about the neighbourhood of Annerley, holding daily parleys with his little sister--the traitress!--how she had brought him back the a.s.segai, and related the issue of its discovery.

"Ha! ha!" thought Lyle, laughing bitterly; "they know now that I am not at the bottom of the sea, as they hoped."

The reports of the scouts encouraged some and daunted others.

On the one hand, Sir John Manvers was hara.s.sed by the Kafirs--on the other, Sir Adrian's sudden appearance in the heart of the country struck terror into the minds of the less resolute.

The season of dewy mornings and bitter nights was fast approaching, sickness was increasing in the camp; Lyle, Brennard--all the English traitors, in fact--urged Vander Roey to retire to the north-eastward without delay. With his usual policy, the former had contrived to send forward a member from almost every family, and thus all had an interest in falling into a position where they might make a stand against the British forces.

The chill dawn of an April morning saw the bivouac again broken up, and by noon the plain was vacant.

Vanbloem rode in the rear with a heavy heart--he was beginning hourly to repent; Gray was beside him. Each knew what was pa.s.sing in the other's mind, but neither spoke.

It was midnight; the wanderers had halted at the foot of a bill on the site of an old mission station--part of the house still remained. The rain fell in torrents, a few stunted bushes were all that afforded shelter to the poor pilgrims of the desert.

Gray heard his name called.

It was Vanbloem--he came for help; he had removed his wife into the dilapidated building--Amayeka was with her; ere long he hoped to behold his first-born; but he was in dismay at the sudden pain and peril of Anne, who, hurried by the journey, and terrified at the prospect of her husband leaving her, had been brought sooner into her trouble than she expected.