They drove the pack-horses in first, forcing them to jump from the
steep bank and watched anxiously until their heads reappeared above the
surface and they struck out for the far bank.
Then all three of them naked, their clothing wrapped in oilskins and
lashed to the saddles, they remounted.
'You first, MbeJane. ' A splash that rose above the bank.
'Off you go, Dirk. Remember to hang on to the saddle.'
Another high splash, and Sean flogged his mount as it baulked and
danced sideways along the bank. A sudden lunge outwards and the long
drop before the water closed over them.
Snorting water, they surfaced and with relief Sean saw Dirk's head
bobbing beside that of his horse, and heard his shouted excitement.
Moments later they stood on the far bank, water streaming from their
naked bodies, and laughed together at the fun of it.
Abruptly the laughter was strangled to death in Sean's throat.
Lining the bank above them, grinning with the infection of merriment
but with Mauser rifles held ready, stood a dozen men.
Big men, bearded, festooned with bandoliers of ammunition, dressed in
rough clothing and a selection of hats that included a brown derby and
a tall beaver.
In imitation of Sean, both Mbejane and Dirk stopped laughing and stared
up at the frieze of armed men along the bank. A complete silence fell
on the gathering.
It was broken at last by the man in the brown derby as he pointed at
Sean with the barrel of his Mauser.
'Magtig! But you'd need a sharp axe to cut through that branch.
' 'Don't anger him,' warned the gentleman in the beaver. 'If he hits
you over the head with it, it will crack your skull! ' and they all
laughed.
It was hard for Sean to decide which was the more discomforting; the
intimate discussion of his nudity, or the fact that the discussion was
conducted in the Taal (or Cape Dutch). In his impatience he had
walked, or rather swum, into the arms of a Boer patrol. There was just
a forlorn hope that he might be able to bluff his way through, and he
opened his mouth to make the attempt. But Dirk forestalled him.
'Who are they, Pa, and why are they laughing? ' he asked in clear
piping English, and Sean's hope died as abruptly as did the Boer
laughter when they heard that hated language.
'Oh! So!' growled the man in the beaver, and gestured eloquently with
his Mauser. 'Hands up please, my friend.'
'Will you allow me to put my trousers on first?' Sean asked
politely.
'Where are they taking us?' For once Dirk was subdued and there was a
quiver in his voice that touched Beaver, who rode beside him. He
answered for Sean.
'Now, don't you worry, you're going to see a general. A real live
general. ' Beaver's English was intelligible and Dirk studied him with
interest.
'will he have medals and things?'
