The Settler and the Savage - Robert Michael Ballantyne (reading a book .txt) 📗

the storm.

While this was going on at Mount Hope, the Skyds were actively engaged in gathering in their rattle and otherwise making their place secure. They had more than once been warned that their position was one of danger, but being young, athletic, and rollicking, they had not cared hitherto to remove their humble dwelling. It was time enough to do that, they said, when "lovely woman" should come on the scene and render improvement in domicile necessary. Bob Skyd had more than once attempted to induce a "lovely woman" to invade the land and enlighten the cave, but somehow without success!

"We shall have it stiff," said John, as the three brothers approached their burrow.

"And heavy," added Bob.

James made no remark, but opened the door. It was growing dark at the time and inside their cavern only a dim light prevailed.

"Why--what's--hallo! I say--"

Jim leaped back with a look of alarm. The brothers gazed in and saw, in the region of their bed (which held three easily), a pair of glaring eyeballs.

The brothers, although not superstitious, were by no means free from human weakness. At the same time they were gifted with a large share of animal courage. With beating heart John struck a light, and held up a flaming brimstone match. This caused the eyes to glare with fearful intensity, and revealed a distinct pair of horns. At that moment the match went out. With anxious trepidation another light was struck, and then it was discovered that a recently purchased goat had, under a wrong impression, taken possession of the family bed.

Laughing at this, they lit a tallow candle, which was stuck into that most convenient of candlesticks--an empty bottle.

The brothers, although not proficients, were mechanical in their way. One had set up the household bed; another had constructed a table, which had broken down only six times since their arrival; and the third had contrived a sofa. This last was Jim's work. It was a masterpiece in its way, of simplicity, and consisted of two rough planks laid on two mounds of earth, the whole being covered with a piece of chintz which fell in a curtain to the floor. This curtain, like love, covered a multitude of improprieties, in the shape of old boots, dirty linen, miscellaneous articles, and a sea-chest.

Sitting down on the sofa, John Skyd laughed long and heartily at the scene with the goat. His laugh suddenly ceased, and was replaced by an exclamation and a look of anxious surprise. "Something" had moved under the sofa! Snakes occurred to their minds at once, and the deadly character of South African snakes was well known.

"Look out, boys," cried John, leaping on the sofa, and seizing a sword which hung on a peg just above it.--"Fetch the light."

Bob quickly obeyed and revealed the tail of a large cobra disappearing among the improprieties. Jim ran to a rude cupboard where pistols and ammunition were kept, and began to load with small shot.

"This way I hold it closer to the wall," said John, in an earnest voice; "I see one of his coils at the back of the sofa. Now then, steady-- there!"

He made a deadly thrust as he spoke and pinned the snake to the ground, but evidently by the wrong coil, for in a moment its angry head was seen twining up towards the handle of the sword.

"Quick, Jim--the pistol!"

Jim was ready and Bob raised the curtain of the sofa, while John stood in readiness to let go the sword and bolt if the reptile should prove to be capable of reaching his hand.

"Fire, Jim, fire! look sharp!" cried John Skyd.

Jim took aim and fired. The candle was put out by the concussion.

In the dark John could risk the danger no longer. He let go the sword and sprang with a shout upon the bed. Bob and Jim made for the same place of refuge, and, tumbling over each other, broke the pint bottle and the candle. Securing a fragment of the latter they proceeded once more to strike a light, with quaking hearts, while a horrible hissing and lashing was heard under the sofa. At last light was again thrown on the scene, and when the curtain was cautiously raised the cobra was seen to be writhing in its death-agonies--riddled with shot, and still pinned with the sword.

This scene closed most appropriately with a flash of lightning and a tremendous clap of thunder,--followed, immediately, by cataracts of rain.


CHAPTER SIXTEEN.


THE GREAT FLOODS OF 1823.

All that night and all next day rain came down on the land in continuous floods. The settlers had previously been visited with occasional storms, which had roused some alarm among the timid and done a little damage, but nothing like this had yet befallen them. The water appeared to descend in sheets, and not only did the great rivers wax alarmingly, but every rill and watercourse became a brawling river.

The Skyds, and one or two others who, like themselves, had built too near the edge of streams, were the first to suffer.

"This won't do," said John Skyd, on the evening of the second day, as he and his brothers sat in front of their cavern gazing at the turbid river, which, thick and yellow as pea-soup, was hurrying trees, bushes, and wrack in formidable masses to the sea. "We must shift our abode. Come along."

Without a word more the brothers entered their cave, and began to carry out their goods and chattels. They were strong and active, but they had miscalculated the rapidity of the flood. Fortunately most of their valuables were removed to higher ground in time, but before all was got out a sudden increase in the rushing river sent a huge wave curling round the entire piece of ground on which their farm lay. It came on with devastating force, bearing produce, fences, fruit-trees, piggeries, and every movable thing on its foaming crest. The brothers dropped their loads and ran. Next moment the cavern was hollowed out to twice its former size, and the sofa, the rude cupboard, the sea-chest, and family bed were seen, with all the miscellaneous improprieties, careering madly down the yellow flood.

In their trousers and shirt-sleeves--for they had thrown off their coats, as all active men do in an emergency--the brothers watched the demolition of their possessions and hopes in solemn silence.

"I think," said John at length, with a sigh, "I've made up my mind to join Frank Dobson now."

Bob and Jim smiled grimly, but said never a word.

Meanwhile the settlers of Mount Hope farm were not idle. Although not fully alive to the danger of the storm, they saw enough to induce a course of rapid action. Goods and cattle were removed from low-lying buildings to higher ground, but the dwelling-house, being on the highest point in the neighbourhood--with the exception of the hills themselves-- was deemed safe.

In these arrangements the family were ably assisted by the unexpected accession of their friends. Hans, Considine, and Dobson taxed their activity and strength to the utmost, so that things were soon put in a state of security. Dobson did, indeed, think once or twice of his old chums on the river, but a feeling of gallantry prevented his deserting the ladies in the midst of danger, and besides, he argued, the Skyds are well able to look after themselves.

Just as this thought passed through his mind the chums in question appeared upon the scene, announcing the fact that their entire farm had been swept away, and that _the water was still rising_.

"Well, it can't rise much higher now," said Edwin Brook, after condoling with his young friends on their misfortunes, "and the moment it begins to abate we shall go down to save all we can of your property. You know, my poor fellows, that I shall be only too glad to help you to the utmost of my power in such a sad extremity as this."

The brothers thanked their neighbour, and meanwhile aided the others in removing the farm-produce and implements to higher ground.

Night at length settled down on the scene, and the wearied party returned to the cottage for food and rest.

"Do you think, Mr Marais," said Gertie, looking up timidly at the handsome young Dutchman, "that the worst of it is over?"

Hans, who felt somewhat surprised and chilled by the "Mister," replied that he hoped it was.

But Hans was wrong. Late that night, after they had all lain down to rest, Edwin Brook, feeling sleepless and uneasy, rose to look out at the window. All was comparatively still, and very dark. There was something grey on the ground, he thought, but judged it to be mist. The noise of the storm, with the exception of rushing streams, had gone down, and though it still rained there was nothing very unusual to cause alarm. He lay down again and tried to sleep, but in vain. Then he thought he heard the sound of the river louder than before. At the same time there was a noise that resembled the lapping of water round the frame of the house.

Jumping up, he ran to his door, opened it, discovered that the supposed mist was water, and that his dwelling was an island in a great sea.

To shout and rouse the household was the work of an instant. His guests were men of promptitude. They had merely thrown themselves down in their clothes, and appeared in an instant. Mrs Brook and Gertie were also ready, but Mrs Scholtz, being fond of comfort, had partially undressed, and was distracted between a wild effort to fasten certain garments, and restrain Junkie, who, startled by the shout, was roaring lustily.

"Not a moment to lose!" said Brook, running hastily into the room, where all were now assembled. "Everything is lost. We must think only of life. Lend a helping hand to the women, friends--mind the boy.--Come, wife."

Brook was sharp, cool, and decisive in his manner. Seizing his wife round the waist, he hurried her out into the dark night, stepping, as he did so, above the ankles in rising water.

Dobson, Considine, and the three brothers turned with a mutual impulse towards Gertie, but Hans Marais had already taken possession of her, and, almost carrying her in his powerful arms, followed her father.

"Come, my howlin' toolip," said George Dally, "you're my special and _precious_ charge. Shut up, will you!"

He seized the child and bore him away with such violence that the howling was abruptly checked; while Scholtz, quietly gathering his still half-clad spouse under an arm, followed with heavy stride.

The others, each seizing the object that in his eyes appeared to be most valuable--such as a desk or workbox,--sprang after the household and left the house to its fate. They first made for the cattle-kraals, but these were already flooded and the cattle gone. Then they tried a barn which stood a little higher, but it was evidently no place of refuge, for the stream just there was strong, and broke against it with violence.

"To the hills," shouted Hans, lifting Gertie off the ground altogether, as if she had been a little child.