Michael Dun - 19. Chapter 19

After breakfast, Michael showed them the diggings. Trenches had been built marking the claim, sand had piled up high and rocks and pebbles were placed on one side for sifting. The site looked more like archeological diggings than a gold mine. Danie stepped forward and smiled confidently when he spoke. “We need a dolly and a battery to crush the ore. The gold is deeper. Inside the rock.”

“Perceptive.” Michael remarked, vividly impressed, then said, “And the reef lies at an angle, so we shall have to build shafts with strong supports. Hopefully, one day, some one will perfect the cyanide process. As it stands it is flawed. Then we shall have true mining power.”

“That is a long way off.” Danie remarked, “We have to use Struben’s battery to crush the ore.”

Struben had struck gold a couple of years before by shafting into the side of what they called the Confidence Reef on the Geldenhuys farm. Every now and then the Strubens did hit pay dirt but their excitement would diminish when the reef disappeared into the rock.

“An option we may consider.” Michael informed him.

They decifded to employ ten black men to assist with the digging, more men meant faster production.

Michael noticed that Gordon Atkinson was quiet and stood outside the circle of conversation. His manner, contemplative, as though every moment of every hour was a funeral march. On their return, Michael asked Gordon what had happened between the three of them out on the vlaktes. Gordon did not answer at first, but when he did, the words came stuttering out. “N…Nothing happened. Leave it al..alone!”

“Did not mean to pry, old chap.” Michael said.

Gordon was silent.

“Where is your friend…John, I think it is?”

“Forget it! Shall we? Just forget it! I do not think of him. I am quite at home where I am, and thank you for your hospitality.”

“Well, if ever you wish to speak, I shall be quite willing to offer advice.” Michael offered. It was the least he could do for a man who was shattered.

*

By October, canteens had emerged on every street corner. Land sharks conned many a young dupe into purchasing worthless land. Alcohol was available on Sundays and a burglary took place at the Central Hotel. Within a month, budding entrepreneurs owned butcher shops, apothecaries, stock and sharebroker offices, baker shops, wagon makers, blacksmiths and general stores and Madam Ferreira’s Opera Company was playing at Edgson’s Hotel.

At Tweelingsrus, mining was arduous in that the supplies were, at times, delayed at the border posts or were wrong and sent back, which would delay the crushing of the ore. Daily the trenches widened and the mouth of the shaft deepened. They dug deeper into the earth, exposing solid rock, hacking at it to loosen the conglomerate. On the third day they were at ten feet and still digging when old man Van Breda arrived. He leaped from the carriage and skipped across the trenches towards the shaft, yelling at the top of his voice for Michael and Danie.

Michael held his axe in the air but did not bring it down. He heard the yelling outside, turned to the others and signaled for them to stop. They heard the voice too.

“It sounds like van Breda.” Michael said. “He sounds quite distressed.” He downed the axe and ran towards the entrance where he found the old man waving his hands and shouting at the top of is voice. “I think it is time, my magtig, my word! The woman is in much pain. I think she is giving birth. Kom, Kom! Come!,Come!”

Danie was first to enter the room. The old man had prepared a hot toddy and warm water bottle to place, to ease the pain on her mound. She was sweating and breathing heavily when they arrived. Charlie got some blankets and a frying pan from the wagon; lit a fire in the brick oven and brought a pot of water to the boil.

Michael brought in several cushions and placed them under her, lifting her to assist in the birth. Marie gripped her husband’s hand, biting her teeth closed. Then she began to breathe in and out in short, thin gasps of agony. By the time the baby was ready to come, the water in the pot was lukewarm but the blankets were wet from body fluids, mostly blood between her legs. She pushed and shoved and heaved and finally, in agony, the child was expelled from her body into Michael’s hands.

But the boy was not breathing, Michael spanked him hard on the bum - no reaction.

Danie gripped hold of the child and spanked it again; still, no reaction. Marie began to whimper and as they attempted to revive the child she began to cry and shout and eventually scream.

Danie spanked him with tears in his eyes, then immersed him in the lukewarm water and washed the birth off his body then gave it over to Marie.

Danie left the room. Michael followed him closely and stopped him outside by the horse shelter. Danie cried into his shoulder, whispering how soorry he was, but Michael would not hear of it. What was meant to be had passed. But Danie was looking forward to playing with his son, to watching him grow and become an adult. God’s reward for goodness and kindness. Michael embraced the weeping man gently, calmed him down.

Danie’s wife needed him more now than ever before. After all, just as much as Danie could not blame himself for the virth of a still – born child, he could not blame Marie.

Several moments passed before he turned and said, “Very well. I shall do my duty as the husband.” Then he turned to walk away but Michael grabbed his arm and said, “No, Danie. It is not duty. It is compassion.”

They returned to the room and found Charlie holding Marie’s hand as she rocked her stillborn child, singing Sarie Marais.

*

Michael cursed himself for not doing more for the woman. Charlie stared at the downcast face of his friend and saw in it the kindness of a gentleman, the loyalty of a businessman, the trust of a friend and the harmony of a lover. Charlie reached down and turned Michael’s head to face him. “I love you. I want to share the rest of my days with you, that’s a long time.”

And when they made love, it was on the ground in the open veldt where the wind blew in and touched their hair, and naked skin.

Across the open veldt, within three meters of them, watchful eyes stared, neither disgusted nor charmed at the sight.

*

Business was slow for Peter Sheffield. He had managed to build a makeshift corrugated hut with a sign that read “Sheffield’s Brokerage”. Little mounds of mine-dump were appearing overnight. Most of the diggers at Natal Camp were British, some were Australian and others Italian, but they all employed the services of Black workers who dug deep. Insignificant discoveries were reported on a daily basis.

Peter maintained his composure and wondered to himself when the stranger would show. His allegations about Michael were spectacular to say the least. Michael Dun working for the British Colonial Office? Who would have thought? These allegations were punishable only by death, but if the stranger knew of this it was only a matter of time before Kruger heard.

In the great scheme of things, killing John Mansfield in self-defense was nothing compared to treason or the business of spying. Or so Peter thought. Michael deserved what was coming to him. He despised Michael for the good person he was. He despised Michael for having an aristocratic pedigree. He despised Michael for not loving him. Through all this despising, there was no hint of guilt for what he had done. And no hint of the nightmare to come.

*

Charlie never took the lunch break.

He picked at the rock face well into the night. He would do this often enough but never all night and well into the morning. But he did on this particular morning. The excavation had gone twelve feet into the outcrop and the rock had hardened at an alarming rate.

The platform arrived and Michael stepped across the open shaft to confront Charlie about not coming home. But Charlie could not explain his actions. All he knew was that the time was close, he could feel it.

Michael suggested he should return to the house to sleep, but Charlie hacked away at the hard rock. Michael picked up his axe and went to work.

Suddenly, halfway into the morning, Charlie stopped picking. He looked at his raw, blistered hands, then he looked at the wall in front of him. He stepped back with a smile on his face and before long all of them were staring at the wall.

Michael slammed him on the back. “Mother Lode, Charlie. Fantastic!”

They celebrated at the river into the small hours of the morning. Drinking and singing, dancing and eating the heartiest meals. Gold Commissioner Von Brandis, Colonel Ferreira, Mrs. Walker and Mrs. Minnaar were called to join them and soon all the camps, as far as Kimberley Camp, knew about the discovery.

Von Brandis was a sullen man, respected for his fairness in dealing with squabbles. He had begun to congratulate Charlie on his discovery when a piercing scream filled the cool highveld night air.

Every one turned and gazed in disbelief at Mrs. Minnaar, but her scream was directed at the flames engulfing Michael and Charlie’s little house. In the time it took to reach the fire, the damage had been done.

The small crowd frantically dashed around dousing the flames with the little water they could find, for the water had been diverted to the diggings; and they heard the screams of Marie as she burned, trapped in her bed, unable to get out.

Danie made a dash towards the flames, which had by now, engulfed the bed, but Michael ran after him and dived upon him to save him from sure death. He lay upon the man, breathing heavily, preventing him from getting up and trying again. Danie fought at first with all the strength he could find, then realizing that his plight was futile, dropping his arms, he wept. His wife screamed no more.

But Michael could feel his fear and lost hope.

Danie was not allowed to come close to the body. The Colonel offered to take him away, offer him a stiff whiskey to console him. Michael agreed and assured Danie it was the best thing he could do right now. After he had gone, Michael and Charlie sifted through the charred remains of their worldly goods.

“Sheffield…” Michael whispered to Gordon.

“It could be. He is quite capable.” Gordon replied.

“I think we should pay Mr. Sheffield a visit.”

“No need for that. He is here.” Gordon pointed at him, standing in the place that was once the door.

Michael was angry. After all that had been said and done he should have been ashamed to show his face.

“Keep your distance Sheffield…” Michael, exclaimed.

But Peter continued to walk towards him.

“How dare you show yourself here. You have the gall to appear in the wake of your own handiwork.”

“Are you accusing me of arson, Michael? Because if you are, you will have a tough and fruitless journey finding evidence of any kind. You did your damnedest to save the place.”

“Your sentiments are worthless.” Michael rebuked him.

“You may have more enemies than you thought, Michael. I sympathize with you, please accept my profound sorrow at the loss of all of this. You know I mean it, chapsy.”

“This was our home. Now it is nothing. Just ash, cinders and a burned woman who had given birth to a stillborn boy only days ago.”

Peter explained slowly, “I have a home, Michael. I would not that such tragedies befall my worst enemy. To lose everything…to start over. I am here to offer my assistance in the clean- up operation. Did you say a woman? Burnt?”

“Please leave us, Peter. We have much work to do here.”

“Oh, but I am sure there is something I can do for you. For instance…” He stooped and picked up what looked like Michael’s charred diary. “…Your diary. Perhaps I shall post it to Father for you.”

Michael stared at him, puzzled as to how he had this information. However, to question it might bring suspicion from all sides. He reached out and said, “My diary, please, Mr. Sheffield.” Peter handed it to him and he placed it in his pocket.

“Please leave, Mr. Sheffield.” Michael asked once again

“I see Mr. Atkinson is under your spell, Michael. Enjoying it, then, Mr. Atkinson?”

“You heard the man, leave us.” Gordon replied with a twitch of his mouth.

“Very well, then. Oh! Congratulations on your find, Charlie.”

Michael’s eyes grew larger and his forehead lifted as he shouted, “Get the hell away from us, Sheffield.”

Then he walked away, leaving Michael to gather the odd pieces that could be salvaged from the disaster.

Colonel Ferreira came up to Michael and empathized with him. He was proud of them and what they had achieved in so short a time. He did not want this tragic loss to end a dream.

“I brought a tent in the event that I may have to sleep overnight and trek home in the morning. Use it, you will need it. I shall return to camp.”

“Thank you, sir. Te Danke. Thank you.” Michael said softly. “This is indeed a nasty bit of work. Mr. Peter Sheffield’s master stroke.”

The Colonel raised his brow, he was prepared to listen. “Sheffield? Tell me about this man…”

Camouflaged like night, unseen by those milling about, unseen by Michael, Charlie, Gordon and Peter, he watched. And chuckled to himself.

*

In the morning the Colonel suggested to Gold Commissioner Jan Meyer that Peter Sheffield be expelled from Natal Camp. The Colonel put his case across quite firmly. He had it on good authority that Sheffield was a troublemaker of the worst kind. Expel the man from the community before he committed further damage. The Commissioner needed proof of these allegations.

The Colonel would not accept such an answer. “As a young man I dreamed of having a home one day. I dreamed of wealth and the ability to remain a free spirit. The soldier inside me tells me to continue as a miner. The wonderer tells me to move on. But this time the soldier is victorious and I have found a home. I must remain and build the dream. Michael and Charlie ‘s dream has been taken away by this man.”

“But they are British.”

“All the more reason to see justice done.”

“Very well. You shall return with a signed rit that I shall expel this Man called Peter Sheffield from the Camp.”

“I knew you would see it my way. Dankie.”

The Colonel informed Michael and Charlie of his discussion with Jan Meyer. He explained that there was no proof of any wrongdoing on the part of Sheffield, however, he was prepared to cast doubt aside for the sake of his friend, Ignatius Ferreira.

Gordon stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, I have something to say…important enough to shed some light on these allegations against Peter Sheffield.”

The Colonel fidgeted with his moustache and Michael waited patiently for him to continue. Charlie yelled, “Well, go on! Go on man. Why do you leave us hanging on your words, then?”

“Peter Sheffield killed John Mansfield. I buried him.”

“You are able to prove this?”

“I can take you to the place I buried him. I will never forget it."

“That is all we need to convince Jan Meyer. I think we have him, gentlemen.”

“Why?” Michael asked.

“John dared to refuse Peter’s advances. Peter was ruthless. Peter forced himself on John, and he reacted the only way he knew how, by at first refusing, then defending himself. They both fell out of the wagon, kicking and punching, and tearing at each other. Peter found his gun somewhere, and the next moment he was beating the butt into John’s face, his head cracked and he was dead. Then he forced me to bury him, at gunpoint. So I dug all night and in the morning, I was exhausted, but I knew Peter was mentally exhausted so I reacted quickly and got away.” Suddenly he stopped as his gaze fell on Colonel Ferreira. As Gordon went on with his tale, he became more and more aware that the man was talking about sexual preference.

The Colonel groped for words and quickly ended, changing the subject. “We will get him. Now, which one of you will I be accompanying to register the find?”

Michael suggested that someone remain to supervise the mess about him. It was clear he meant the burned down building, Danie Vogel’s loss and Gordon Atkinson’s revelation. Michael volunteered to begin the cleaning up operation. Charlie should go. Besides, Van Breda, Gordon, and Danie were with him.

“Well, then, I journey at six in the morning. We shall have to hire a carriage, but I wish to see an old friend.”

“And who might that be?” Charlie inquired.

“President Kruger.”

Charlie was unable to sleep that night. They had set up the tent that the Colonel had given them and Michael slept soundly. The sky had rotated and the moon, which had ascended in the east, now descended in the west. He took in the campfires in the distance and a dog barked somewhere.