When The Lion Feeds Part 28

Up at the face Mbejane worked on. The first four natives came back to rest and fresh men took their place.

Mbejane led them, grunting an order occasionally but otherwise reserving his strength for the a.s.sault on the rock. For an hour Duff rested and when he returned to the head of the tunnel Mbejane was still there. Duff watched him curl his arms round a piece of stone the size of a beer keg, brace his legs and tear the stone out of the jam. Earth and loose rock followed it burying Mbejane's legs to the knees and Duff jumped forward to help him.

Another two hours and Duff had to rest again. This time he led Mbejane back with him, gave him a blanket and made him drink a little soup. They sat next to each other with their backs against the Wall of the tunnel and blankets over their shoulders. The s.h.i.+ft-boss came to Duff. Mrs Rautenbach sent this down for you, sir It was a half-bottle of brandy. Tell her, thank you Duff pulled the cork with his teeth and swallowed twice. it brought the tears into his eyes, he offered the bottle to Mbejane.

It is not fittingl Mbejane demurred.

Drink Mbejane drank, wiped the mouth of the bottle carefully on his blanket and handed it back. Duff took another swallow and offered it again but Mbejane shook his head.

A little of that is strength, too much is weakness.

There is work to do now Duff corked the bottle.

How long before we reach him? asked Mbejane. Another day, maybe two. A man can die in two days, mused the Zulu. Not one with a body like a bull and a temper like a devil, Duff a.s.sured him. Mbejane smiled and Duff went on groping for his words in Zulu.

"You love him, Mbejane? Love is a woman's word Mbejane inspected one of his thumbs; the nail was torn loose, standing up like a tombstone; he took it between his teeth, pulled it off and spat it onto the floor of the drive. Duff shuddered as he watched. Those baboons will not work unless they are driven. Mbejane stood up. Are you rested? Yes, lied Duff, and they went back to the face.

Sean lay in the mud with his head on the hard pillow of the helmet. The darkness was as solid as the rock around him. He tried to imagine where the one ended and the other began, by doing that he could stop himself feeling his thirst so strongly. He could hear the ring of hammer on stone and the rattle of rock falling free but it never seemed to come any closer. The whole side of his body was stiff and sore but he could not turn over, his knees caught on the cocopan every time he tried and the air in his little cave was starting to taste stale, his head ached.

He moved again, restlessly, and his hand brushed the small pile of sovereigns. He struck at them, scattering them into the mud. They were the bait that had led him into this trap. Now he would give them, and all the millions. of others, for just the feel of the wind in his beard and the sun in his face. The darkness clung to him, thick and cloying as black treacle; it seemed to fill his nose, his throat and eyes, smothering him. He groped and found the matchbox. For a few seconds of light he would burn up most of the precious oxygen in his cave and call it fair exchange, but the box was sodden. He struck match after match but the wet heads crumbled without a spark and he threw them away and clenched his eyelids to keep the darkness out. Bright colours formed in front of his closed eyes, moving and rearranging themselves until suddenly and very clearly they formed a picture of Garrick's face.

He hadn't thought about his family for months, he had been too busy reaping the golden harvest, but now memories crowded back. There were so many things he had forgotten. Everything else had become unimportant when compared with power and gold, even lives, men's lives, had meant nothing. But now it was his own life, teetering on the edge of the black cliff.

The sound of the sledge-hammers broke into his thoughts again. There were men on the other side of the blocked tunnel trying to save him, working their way into the treacherous rock pile which might collapse again at any minute. People were more valuable than the poisonous metal, the little gold discs that lay smugly beside him in the mud while men struggled to save him.

He thought of Garry, crippled by his careless shotgun, father to the b.a.s.t.a.r.d he had sired, of Ada whom he had left without a word of goodbye, of Karl Lochtkamper with the pistol in his hand and half his head splattered across the floor of his bedroom, of other nameless men dead or broken because of him.

Sean ran his tongue across his lips and listened to the hammers; he was certain they were nearer now. If I get out of here, it'll be different. I swear it Mbejane rested for four hours in the next thirty-six. Duff watched the flesh melt off him in sweat. He was killing himself, Duff was worn out; he could no longer work with his hands but he was directing the teams who were shoring up the reclaimed tunnel. By the second evening they had cleared a hundred feet of the drive. Duff paced it out and when he reached the face he spoke to Mbejane. How long since you last signalled to him?

Mbejane stepped back with a sledge-hammer in his tattered hands; its shaft was sticky and brown with blood. An hour ago and even then it sounded as though there were but the length of a spear between us. Duff took a crowbar from one of the other natives and tapped the rock. The answer came immediately, He's. .h.i.tting something made of iron, Duff said. It sounds as though he's only a few feet away. Mbejane, let these other men take over. If you wish you can stay and watch but you must rest again now. For answer Mbejane lifted the hammer and swung it against the face. The rock he hit cracked and two of the natives stepped up and levered it loose with their crowbars. At the back of the hole it left in the wall they could see the corner of the cocopan. Everyone stared at it, then Duff shouted. Sean, Sean, can you hear me? Stop talking and get me out of here. Sean's voice was hoa.r.s.e with thirst and dust, and m.u.f.fled by the rock. He's under the cocopan. It's him. Nkosi, are you all rightVWe've found him. The shouts were picked up by the men working behind them in the drive and pa.s.sed back to those waiting at the lift station. They've found him, he's all'right, they've found him. Duff and Mbejane jumped forward together, their exhaustion completely forgotten. They cleared the last few lumps of rock and with their shoulders touching knelt and peered under the cocopan. Nkosi, I see you. I see you also, Mbejane, what took you so long?

Nkosi, there were a few small stones in the way. Mbejane reached under the cocopan and with his hands under Sean's armpits pulled him out. What a h.e.l.l of a place you chose to go to ground in, laddie. How are you feeling? Give me some water and I'll be all right Water, bring water, shouted Duff.

Sean gulped it, trying to drink the whole mug in one mouthful. He coughed and it shot out of his nose. Easy, laddie, easy. Duff thumped his back. Sean drank the next mugful more slowly and finished panting from the effort. That was good. Come on, we've got a doctor waiting up on top. Duff draped a blanket over his shoulders. Mbejane picked Sean up across his chest. Put me down, d.a.m.n you, I haven't forgotten how to walk. Mbejane set him down gently, but his legs buckled like those of a man just out of bed from a long illness and he clutched at Mbejane's arm. Mbejane picked him up again and carried him down to the lift station. They rode up in the skip into the open. The moon's s.h.i.+ning. And the stars, my G.o.d, they're beautiful. There was wonder in Sean's voice; he sucked the night air into his lungs but it was too rich for him and he started coughing again. There were people waiting at the head of the shaft and they crowded round them as they stepped out of the skip. How is he? Are you all right, Sean? Doc Symmonds is waiting in the office Quickly, Mbejane, said Duff, get him out of the cold.

One on either side of him they hurried Sean across to the administrative building and laid him on the couch in Francois's office. Symmonds checked him over, looked down his throat and felt his pulse. Have you got a closed carriage here? Yes, Duff answered.

Well, wrap him up warmly and get him home to bed.

With the dust and bad air he's been breathing there's serious danger of pneumonia. I'll come down with you and give him a sedative. I won't need one, Doc, Sean grinned at him.

I think I know what's best for you, Mr Courtne. Doctor Symmonds was a young man. He was the fas.h.i.+onable doctor among the rich of Johannesburg and he took it very seriously. Now if you please, we'll get you to your hotel. He started to pack, his instruments back into his valise. You're the doctor, Sean agreed, but before we go will you have a look at MY servant's hands, they'-re in a h.e.l.l of a mess. There's hardly any meat left on them. Doctor Symmonds did not look up from what he was doing. I have no Kaffir practice, Mr Courtney, I'm sure you'll find some other doctor to attend to him when we get back to town Sean sat up slowly, he let the blankets slip off his shoulders. He walked across to Doctor Symmond held him by the throat against the wall. The doctor had a fine pair of waxed moustaches and Sean took one of them between the thumb and forefinger of his free handhe plucked it out like feathers from the carca.s.s of a dead fowl and Doctor Symmonds, squealed. Starting now, Doctor, you have a Kaffir practice, Sean told him. He pulled the handkerchief out of Symmondstop pocket and dabbed at the little drops of blood on the doctor's bare upper lip. Be a good fellow, see to my servant.

When Sean woke the next morning the hands of the grandfather clock across the bedroom pointed at the top of their dial. Candy was in the room opening the curtains and with her were two waiters, each with a loaded tray. Good morning, how is our hero this morning? The waiters put down their trays and went out as she came across to Sean's bed.

Sean blinked the sleep out of his eyes. My throat feels as though I've just finished a meal of broken gla.s.sThat's the dust, Candy told him and laid her hands on his forehead. Sean's hand sneaked round behind her and she squeaked as he pinched her. Standing well away from the bed she rubbed her bottom and made a face at him. There's nothing wrong with you! Good, then I'll get up. Sean started to pull back the bedclothes. Not until the doctor's had a look at you, you won, tCandy, if that b.a.s.t.a.r.d puts one foot in this room I'll punch him so hard in the mouth his teeth will march out of his backside like soldiers.

Candy turned to the breakfast trays to cover her smile.

That's no way to talk in front of a lady. But don't worry, it isn't Symmonds. Where's Duff? Sean asked. He's having a bath, then he's coming to eat breakfast with you. I'll wait for him, but give me a cup of coffee in the meantime, there's a sweetheart. She brought the coffee to him. Your savage has been camping on my trail all morning, he wants to see you.

I've just about had to put an armed guard on this room to keep him out. Sean laughed. Will you send him in, Candy? She went to the door and stopped with a hand on the latch. It's nice to have you back, Sean, don't do anything silly like that again, will you? That's a promise, Sean a.s.sured her.

Mbejane came quickly and stood in the doorway. Nkosi, is it well with you? Sean looked at the iodinestained bandages on his hands and the maroon and gold livery without answering. Then he rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling. I sent for my servant and instead there comes a monkey on a chain. Mbejane stood still, his face expressionless but for the hurt in his eyes. Go, find my servant. You will know him by his dress which is that of a warrior of Zululand. It took a few seconds for the laughter to start rolling around in Mbejane's belly; it shook his shoulders and creased the corners of his mouth. He closed the door very softly behind him and when he came back in his loin cloth Sean grinned at him. Ah! I see you, Mbejane. And I see you also. He stood by the bed and they talked. They spoke little of the cave-in and not at all of Mbejane's part in the rescue. Between them it was understood, words could only damage it. Perhaps they would talk of it later, but not now. Tomorrow, will you need the carriage? Mbejane asked at last. Yes - go now. Eat and sleep. Sean reached out and touched Mbejane's arm. just that small physical contact that almost guilty touching, and Mbejane left him.

Then Duff came in in a silk dressing-gown and they ate eggs and steak from the trays and Duff sent down for a bottle of wine just to rinse the dust out of their throats once more. They tell me Francois is still down at the Bright Angels - he's been on the drunk ever since he got out of that shaft. When he sobers up he can come to the office and collect his pay packet Sean sat up. You're going to fire him? I'm going to fire him so high he'll only touch ground when he reaches Capetown What the h.e.l.l for? demanded Sean. What for? Duff echoed. What for? For running, that's what for. Duff, he was in a cave-in at Kimberley, wasn't he? Yes, Broke his legs, didn't you say rYes.

Shall I tell you something? If it were to happen to me a second time I'd run as well.

Duff filled his wine gla.s.s without answering. Send down to the Bright Angels, tell him alcohol is bad for the liver, that should sober him, tell him unless he's back at work by tomorrow morning we'll dock it off his pay, Sean said. Duff looked at him with a puzzled expression. What is this? I had some time to think while I was down in that hole. I decided that to get to the top you don't have to stamp on everyone you meet. Ah, I understand. Duff gave his lopsided grin. A good resolution, New Year in August. Well, that's all right, you had me worried there, I thought a rock had fallen on your head. I also make good resolutionsDuff, I don't want Francois firedAll right, all right, he stays on. If you like we can open a soup kitchen at the office and turn Xanadu into a home for the aged. Oh, go and burst. I just don't think it's necessary to fire Francois, that's allWho's arguing? I agreed with you, didn't I? I have deep respect for good resolutions. I make them all the time. Duff pulled his chair up to the bed, Quite by chance I happen to have a pack of cards with me He took them out of his dressing-gown pocket. Vould you care for a game of Klabejas? Sean lost fifty pounds before he was saved by the arrival of the new doctor. The doctor tapped his chest and tu'ttutted, looked down his throat and tut-tutted, wrote out a prescription and confined him to bed for the rest of the day. He was just leaving when Jock and Trevor Heyns arrived. Jock had a bunch of flowers which he presented to Sean in an embarra.s.sed fas.h.i.+on.

Then the room began to fill in earnest: the rest of the crowd from the Exchange arrived, someone had brought a case of champagne, a poker game started in one corner and a political meeting in another.

who does this Kruger think he is, anyway, G.o.d or something? You know what he said last time we went to see him about getting the vote, he said "Protest, protest I have the guns and you have not! Three Kings wins, you are holding cards! Consolidated Wits. will hit thirty you wait and see.

s.h.i.+llings by the end of the month. and the taxes, theyre putting another twenty percent on dynamite. a new piece at the Opera, Jock's got a season ticket on her, no one else has had a look in yet. All right, you two, stop that. If you want to fight go outside, this is a sick room. This bottle's empty, break open a new one, Duff. Sean lost another hundred to Duff and then a little after five Candy came in. She was horrified. out, all of you, outV The room emptied as quickly as it had filled and Candy wandered around picking up cigar b.u.t.ts and empty gla.s.ses. The vandals! Someone's burnt a hole in the carpet and look at this, champagne spilt all over the table. Duff coughed and started pouring himself another drink. Don't you think you've had enough of that, Dufford? Duff put down his gla.s.s. And it's time you went and changed for dinner. Duff winked sheepishly at Sean, but he went.

Duff and Candy came back to his room after supper and had a liqueur with him. Now to sleep, Candy commanded and went across to draw the curtains. It's still early, protested Duff with no effect. Candy blew the lamp out.

Sean was not tired, he had lain in bed all day and now his brain was overactive. He lit a cigar and smoked, listening to the street noises below his window and it was past midnight before he finally drifted off. When he woke, he woke screaming, for the darkness was on him again and the blankets pressed down on him suffocating him. He fought them off and stumbled blindly across the room.

He had to have air and light. He ran into the thick velvet curtains and they closed around his face; he tore himself free and hit the french windows with his shoulder; they burst open and he was out on the balcony, out in the cold air with the moon fat and yellow in the sky above him.

His gasping slowed until he was breathing normally again. He went back inside and lit the lamp, then he went through to Duff's empty bedroom. There was a copy of Twelfth Night on the bedside table and he took it back to his own room. He sat with the lamp at his elbow and forced his eyes to follow the printed words even though they made no sense. He read until the dawn showed grey through the open windows, then he put down the book.

He shaved, dressed and went down the back stairs into the hotel yard. He found Mbejane in the stables. Put a saddle on the grey. Where are you going, Nkosi? To the devil. Then I will come with you. No, I will be back before midday. He rode up to the Candy Deep and tied his horse outside the administration buildings. There was a sleepy clerk in the front offices.

good morning, Mr Courtney. Can I help you? Yes. Get me overalls and a helmet. Sean went to the Number Three shaft. There was a frost on the ground that crunched as he walked on it and the sun had just cleared the eastern ridge of the Wit.w.a.tersrand. Sean stopped at the hoist shed and spoke to the driver. Has the new s.h.i.+ft gone on yet? all an hour ago, sir! The man was obviously surprised to see him. the night s.h.i.+ft finished blasting at five o'clock. Good, drop me down to the fourteenth level. The fourteenth is abandoned now, Mr Courtney, there's no one working there. yes, i know. Sean walked across to the head of the shaft. He lit his carbide lamp and while he waited for the skip he looked out across the valley. The air was clear and the sun threw long shadows. Everything stood out in sharp relief. He had not been up this early in the morning for many months and he had almost forgotten how fresh and dehcately coloured a new day was. The skip stopped in front of him. He took a deep breath and stepped into it. When he reached the fourteenth level he got out and pushed the recall signal for the skip and he was alone in the earth again. He walked up the tunnel and the echo of his footsteps went with him. He was sweating and a muscle in his cheek started to jerk; he reached the face and set the carbide lamp down on a ledge of rock. He checked to make sure his matches were in his pocket, then he blew out the lamp. The darkness came squeezing down on him.

The first half hour was the worst. Twice he had the matches in his hand ready to strike but he stopped himself.

The sweat formed cold wet patches under his arms and the darkness filled his open mouth and choked him. He had to fight for each lungful of air, suck in, hold it, breathe out. First he regulated his breathing and then slowly, slowly his mind came under control and he knew he had won. He waited another ten minutes breathing easily and sitting relaxed with his back against the side of the tunnel, then he lit the lamp. He was smiling as he went back to the lift station and signalled for the skip. When he reached the surface he stepped out and lit a cigar; he flicked the match into the square black opening of the shaft. So much for you, little hole.

He walked back towards the administration building.

What he could not know was that the Number Three shaft of the Candy Deep was to take something from him just as valuable as his courage and that, next time, what it took it would not give back. But that was many years ahead.

By October Xanadu was nearly finished. The three of them drove out to it as usual one Sat.u.r.day afternoon.

"The builder is only six months behind schedule, now he says he'll be finished by Christmas and I haven't found the courage yet to ask him which Christmas, Sean remarked.

It's all the alterations Candy has thought up, Duff said. She's got the poor man so confused he doesn't know whether he's a boy or a girl. Well, if you'd consulted me in the first place it would have saved a lot of trouble, Candy told them.

The carriage turned in through the marble gates and they looked around them. Already the lawns were smooth and green and the jacaranda. trees lining the drive were shoulder high. I think it's going to live up to its name, that gardener's doing a good job, Sean spoke with satisfaction. Don't you call him a gardener to his face or we'll have a strike on our hands. He's a horticulturist, Duff smiled across at him. Talking about names, Candy interrupted, don't you think Xanadu is, well, a bit outlandish? No, I do not, Sean said. I picked it myself. I think it's a darn good name. It's not dignified, why don't we call it Fair Oaks? Firstly, because there isn't an oak tree within fifty miles and secondly because it's already called Xanadu. Don't get cross, it was just a suggestion. The builder met them at the top of the drive and they began the tour of the house. That took an hour, then they left the builder and went out into the garden. They found the gardener with a gang of natives near the north boundary.

How's it going, Joubert? Duff greeted him. Not bad, Mr Charleywood, but it takes time you know. You've done a d.a.m.n fine job so far. It's kind of you to say so, sir. When are you going to start laying out my maze? The gardener looked surprised; he glanced at Candy, opened his mouth, closed it again and looked once more at Candy.

oh, I told Joubert not to worry about the maze. Why did you do that? I wanted a maze, ever since I visited Hampton Court as a child I've wanted my own Maze. They are silly things, Candy told him. They just take up a lot of s.p.a.ce and they're not even nice to look at.