Aletta: A Tale of the Boer Invasion

“You were to have been shot at sunrise yesterday morning, and it is past sunrise this morning,” went on Schoeman, turning to Frank. “It is you or the man yonder. Are you prepared to undergo our judgment on you?”

“Why, of course,” answered Frank bravely. “I am not going to allow Colvin to die in my place. Englishmen don’t do that sort of thing.”

“Guard him,” said Schoeman. “In ten minutes, be ready.”

Chapter Sixteen.

The Falling of the Scales

At the end of the prescribed time Frank Wenlock was marched before the Commandant. His demeanour was very different now to what it had been upon the last occasion. All the swagger and aggressiveness had disappeared. His manner was quiet without subserviency.

Schoeman read him a long lecture upon his former shameful conduct and the magnanimity of the burghers of the Republics. Did he wish to apologise for his behaviour and the insulting references he had made to the President?

“Certainly, Mynheer Commandant,” replied Frank. “I’m a rough and ready harum-scarum sort of a chap, and I must have said some rather beastly things about people you all think a lot of. Well, I am sorry.”

“That is good,” said Schoeman. “Mynheer De la Rey has been pleading for you, and some others who have known you at home. Their esteemed words, and remembering that you are little more than a foolish boy, and the only son of your widowed mother, have decided us to spare the life which you had forfeited. But there are two courses, one of which we must exact from you – to be sent to Bloemfontein as an ordinary prisoner of war, or to pledge yourself not to serve against the Republics or those in arms on their behalf. In which case you may go free. Which do you choose?”

Frank’s face clouded a moment, wherein is a paradox. A moment ago he was expecting immediate death – now he was disappointed because denied the opportunity of meeting it every day or so.

“Choose your freedom, man,” said Stephanus kindly. “Remember you have a mother to take care of.”

“Very well. I will give you the pledge, Mynheer Commandant,” Frank answered. “But of course you will not have Colvin shot?”

“Under the circumstances, no,” was the cold reply.

“Hooroosh! You are gentlemen, you are, all of you!” cried Frank, his exuberance getting the better of him. “Wait till we meet in Schalkburg again. We’ll drink old Pritchett’s bar dry. But, now for Colvin.”

The latter had not moved from the spot on which he had stood to meet his death, and Aletta had not moved from him. She still held the revolver in her right hand, keeping jealous watch on the possibility of a suspicious move towards them. But for the moment the attention of everybody was riveted in the other direction. Not until her father approached her alone did she begin to feel reassured.

“Aletta, my child, you may put away that plaything,” called out Stephanus. “Colvin is safe now. I have Schoeman’s word for that. Besides, I am able to ensure his safety myself.”

“Aletta has saved me, Stephanus,” answered Colvin as they exchanged a great handgrip. “Look at this child of yours. But for her you would have been here just ten minutes too late. They had actually levelled the rifles when Aletta deliberately shielded me with herself. It just turned on the merest hairsbreadth of a pressure on the trigger. Look at her, Stephanus, and you will be looking on the bravest, sweetest, truest woman that ever brightened God’s world, and be as proud, to your dying day, that she is your own daughter as I am that she is to be my wife.”

“Er – I say, Colvin, old chap – how are you? I don’t want to intrude – only just to wring your flipper.” And Frank Wenlock, looking from one to the other, edged in, and performed that somewhat syllogistically described feat with a will. “It wasn’t my fault, Miss De la Rey,” he exclaimed. “I hadn’t the ghost of an idea they’d dream of meaning to shoot him till I heard it – well, by accident. When he got me safe off the premises yonder, he swore again and again that he wasn’t running the slightest risk himself – that he stood too much in with them – and so on. Otherwise I wouldn’t have budged. I have my faults, but I wouldn’t have allowed another fellow to get shot instead of me, and that’s why I came back now.”

“Look here, Frank,” said Colvin, “would you mind explaining precisely what on earth you are talking about?”

“Oh, come, that’s rather too good. Ain’t I talking about the night before last, when I was going to be shot in a few hours, and you came in and turned me loose. Eh?”

“Then you are talking of what never took place. As sure as I stand here, the last time I saw you was when you were playing the fool there in front of Schoeman and the rest, simply committing suicide like the consummate ass you were, and always have been. As for turning you loose, I couldn’t have done so even if I’d wanted to. Old Schoeman took jolly good care of that by putting me under arrest myself.”

Frank stared, whistled, then shook his head.

“All I can say is then, that if it wasn’t you, it was your bally ghost. That’s all,” he said.

“Well, you’d better not talk about it any more, Frank,” said Stephanus. “Don’t you see, man? It’s a thing to forget now.”

“Oh – um – ah – of course, I see,” assented Frank readily.

“That may be, Stephanus,” said Colvin, “but I have assured the whole of this crowd upon my honour that I had no more to do with Frank’s escape than the man in the moon. And no more I had.”

“No – no – of course not, old chap,” cheerfully rejoined Frank, who didn’t believe a word of the other’s denial. “Well, after all, what’s the odds now? All’s well that ends well.”

“There’s some mystery behind all this,” said Colvin in a low tone to himself. But Aletta heard it. And then her own doubts came back to her. What if they had all been mistaken? There was evidently someone about who bore an extraordinary likeness to Colvin. Her own eyes had deceived her once. Yes, it was extraordinary.

“Mijn Baas! Mijn lieve Baas!”

Just outside the group stood Gert Bondelzwart. He had watched his opportunity to sidle up, for in a Boer laager native servants were not wont to move about with the same free and independent swagger as, say, in the suburbs of Cape Town. Colvin turned:

“Hullo, Gert, how did you get here?”

“Ah!” cried Stephanus, “you have to thank this rascal that I am here at all, Colvin. He it was who brought Aletta’s note telling me of the fix you were in, and killed one of my best horses in doing so, but that’s nothing. The wonder to me is he got through at all.”

“Ja, Baas. It was a wonder,” put in the Griqua. “Twice I had a volley fired at me, but I knew what delay would mean, so I wouldn’t stop. Ah, well, we came in time – we came in time. And the klein missis told me it didn’t matter if I killed the horse if only we did that.”

“Gert, you are a fine fellow, and I won’t forget in a hurry,” said Colvin, turning a very kindly glance upon his faithful servitor. “Why, what is all this about?”

For a new diversion had occurred. Was there to be no end to the events of that day? A party of burghers were riding up, but – Great Heaven! what was this? What did it mean? Who was that in their midst? Colvin Kershaw? Yet, there stood Colvin Kershaw. But – here he was too! Not a face in that crowd but was agape with wild amaze. What on earth did it mean? Was this man the devil in disguise, they asked, that he could be present in two bodies at the same time? Even the stolid philosophical Dutch nature was stirred to the core, as in breathless excitement the burghers awaited the explanation of the new arrivals with this exact replica of Colvin Kershaw in their midst.

The latter had dismounted with the rest, and, pulling out his pipe, began to fill it. Those looking on could not fail to note that in manner, in every movement, the resemblance between the two men was faultless. He, for his part, not yet having descried his duplicate, was lazily wondering what the deuce all these Dutchmen were looking so scared about.

Aletta, from where she stood, could see the stranger, and a perfect maze of bewilderment flitted across her countenance as she gazed at him. Then a sudden light leaped into her eyes.

“Colvin,” she murmured. “Is that your twin brother?”

“N-no. I have a half-brother somewhere in the world, last heard of in Vancouver. I haven’t seen him for years, but he wasn’t like me then. But brother or not, Aletta, I have an idea we have run my ‘double’ to earth at last.”

“I think so too – darling,” she whispered.

The stranger’s glance had now swept round to where they stood. He gave a start and a whistle of surprise; then approached them.

“I believe I must have struck the real Colvin at last,” he began, without ceremony. Here, again, standing together as they were, the height, the features, even the voices of the two men, were inimitably alike. Yet Aletta, with the eyes of love, and hearing sharpened by its spell, could detect a difference. Nobody else could, however.

“Yes, that is my name,” replied Colvin. “But – you are not Kenneth, surely?”

“I am, though. Look here,” fishing out two or three directed envelopes. “But – I’m rather glad to run into you at last. People are always hailing me as ‘Colvin,’ and abusing me for not wanting to know them again – you know – when I tell them I’m somebody else. It’s becoming a bore.”

“Well, Kenneth. I’m glad to see you, too, after all these years. You shall tell me about yourself by-and-by. But, first of all, would you mind telling me one thing. Have you been staying in Johannesburg some little while of late?”

“Rather – only just left it. Why? Oh, I suppose people have been mistaking me for you, is that it? Has its awkward sides sometimes, hasn’t it?”

“It easily may have,” replied Colvin, with a meaning in his tone, which one, at any rate, standing beside him thoroughly grasped.

“The Commandant wants you. Come!”

Kenneth Kershaw turned leisurely. Two armed burghers stood waiting.

“Oh, all right, I was forgetting. So-long, Colvin. We’ll have a great pow-pow by-and-by.”