Weel, weel, did ever ee see the like o that, noo? observed Sandy Black, as he passed some sandhills covered with aloes and cactuses and rare exotics, such as one might expect to find in English greenhouses.
Well, yes, replied Jerry Goldboy, them are hodd lookin wegitables. I cant say that Ive much knowledge of such-like myself, avin bin born an bred in London, as Ive often told you, but they do seem pecooliar, even to me.I say, look ere; I thought all the people ere was settlers.
Sandy, who was a grave man of few words, though not without a touch of sly humour, replied, Weel, so they arean what than?
Why, wat are them there? demanded Jerry, pointing to several marquees pitched apart among some evergreen bushes.
Hm! ee may ask that, replied the Scot; but as he did not add more, his companion was content to regard his words as a confession of ignorance, and passed on with the remark, haristocrats.
Jerry was so far right. The marquees referred to belonged to the higher class of settlers, who had resolved to forsake their native land and introduce refinement into the South African wilds. The position chosen by them on which to pitch their tents, and the neatness of everything around, evinced their taste, while one or two handsome carriages standing close by betokened wealth. Some of the occupants, elegantly dressed, were seated in camp-chairs, with books in their hands, while others were rambling among the shrubbery on the little eminences and looking down on the bustling beach and bay. The tents of these, however, formed an insignificant proportion of the canvas town in which Sandy Black and his friend soon found themselves involved.
Settlers Camp, as it was called, consisted of several hundred tents, pitched in parallel rows or streets, and was occupied by the middle and lower class of settlersa motley crew, truly. There were jolly farmers and pale-visaged tradesmen from various parts of England, watermen from the Thames, fishermen from the seaports, artisans from town and country, agricultural labourers from everywhere, and neer-do-weels from nowhere in particular. England, Scotland, Ireland, were representedin some cases misrepresented,and, as character was varied, the expression of it produced infinite variety. Although the British Government had professedly favoured a select four thousand out of the luckless ninety thousand who had offered themselves for emigration, it is to be feared that either the selection had not been carefully made, or drunkenness and riotous conduct had been surprisingly developed on the voyage out. Charity, however, requires us to hope that much of the excitement displayed was due to the prospect of being speedily planted in rural felicity in the wilds of Africa. Conversation, at all events, ran largely on this theme, as our wanderers could easily distinguishfor people talked loudly, and all tent-doors were wide open.
After wandering for some time, Sandy Black paused, and looking down at his little friend with what may be called a grave smile, gave it as his opinion that they had got lost in Settlers-toon.
I do believe we ave, assented Jerry. Whats to be done?
Gang to the best hotel, suggested Sandy.
But where is the best otel?
Hm! ee may ask that.
A burst of noisy laughter just behind them caused the lost ones to turn abruptly, when they observed four tall young men of gentlemanly aspect sitting in a small military tent, and much amused apparently at their moist condition.
Why, where did you two fellows come from? asked one of the youths, issuing from the tent.
From England and Scotland, replied Jerry Goldboy promptly.
From the sea, I should say, returned the youth, to judge from your wet garments.
Ay, weve been drookit, said Sandy Black.
Bring em in, Jack, shouted one of the other youths in the tent.
Come inside, said he who was styled Jack, and have a glass of whisky. Theres nothing like whisky to dry a wet skin, is there, Scotty?
To this familiar appeal Sandy replied, mhm, which word, we may add for the information of foreigners, is the Scotch for Yes.
Sit down there on the blankets, said the hospitable Jack, we havent got our arm-chairs or tables made yet. Allow me to introduce my two brothers, James and Robert Skyd; my own name is the less common one of John. This young man of six feet two, with no money and less brain, is not a brotheronly a chumnamed Frank Dobson. Come, fill up and drink, else youll catch a cold, or a South African fever, if there is such a thing. Whom shall I pledge?
My name is Jerry Goldboy, said the Englishman; your health, gentlemen.
Am Sandy Black, said the Scot; heres tee.
Well, Mr Black and Mr ColdboyGoldboy, interposed JerryI speak for my brothers and friend when I wish you all success in the new land.
Do talk less, Jack, said Robert Skyd, the youngest brother, and give our friends a chance of speakingHave you come ashore lately!
Just arrived, answered Jerry.
I thought so. You belong to the Scotch party that goes to Baviaans River, I suppose? asked Frank Dobson.
This question led at length to a full and free account of the circumstances and destination of each party, with which however we will not trouble the reader in detail.
Dee ken onything aboot Baviaans River? inquired Sandy Black, after a variety of subjects had been discussed.
Nothing whatever, answered John Skyd, save that it is between one and two hundred milesmore or lessinland among the mountains, and that its name, which is Dutch, means the River of Baboons, its fastnesses being filled with these gentry.
Ay, Ive heard as much mysel, returned Sandy, an they say the craters are gey fierce. Are there ony o the big puggies in the Albany district?
No, none. Albany is too level for them. It lies along the sea-coast, and is said to be a splendid country, though uncomfortably near the Kafirs.
The Kawfirs. Ay. Hm! said Sandy, leaving his hearers to form their own judgment as to the meaning of his words.
An what may your tred be, sir? he added, looking at John Skyd.
The three brothers laughed, and John replied
Trade? we have no trade. Our profession is that of clerksknights of the quill; at least such was our profession in the old country. In this new land, my brother Bobs profession is fun, Jims is jollity, and mine is a compound of both, called joviality. As to our chum Dobson, his profession may be styled remonstrance, for he is perpetually checking our levity, as he calls it; always keeping us in order and snubbing us, nevertheless we couldnt do without him. In fact, we may be likened to a social clock, of which Jim is the mainspring, Bob the weight, I the striking part of the works, and Dobson the pendulum. But we are not particular, we are ready for anything.
Ay, an fit for nothin, observed Sandy, with a peculiar smile and shrug, meant to indicate that his jest was more than half earnest.
The three brothers laughed again at this, and their friend Dobson smiled. Dobsons smile was peculiar. The corners of his mouth turned down instead of up, thereby giving his grave countenance an unusually arch expression.
Why, what do you mean, you cynical Scot! demanded John Skyd. Our shoulders are broad enough, are they not? nearly as broad as your own.