the sjambok again? When was the last time-two weeks ago-when Sean had
reprimanded Dirk on some trivial point concerning the care of his pony.
Dirk had stood sullenly until Sean was finished, and then he had walked
away among the wagons. Dropping the subject from his mind, Sean was
chatting with MbeJane when suddenly there was a squeal of pain from the
laager and Sean ran towards it.
In the centre of the ring of wagons stood Dirk. His face was OR darkly
flushed with temper, and at his feet the tiny body of one of the
unweaned puppies flopped and whimpered with its ribs stoved in from
Dirk's kick.
In anger Sean had beaten Dirk, but even in his anger he had used a
length of rope and not the viciously tapered sjantbok of hippo hide.
Then he had ordered Dirk to his living-wagon.
At noon he had sent for him and demanded an apology-and Dirk, un crying
with lips and jaw set grimly, had refused it.
Sean beat him again, with the rope, but this time coldly-not for the
sake of retribution. Dirk did not break.
Finally, in desperation Sean took the sJambok to him. For ten hissing
strokes, each of which ended with a wicked snap across his buttocks,
Dirk lay silently under the whip. His body convulsed slightly at each
lash but he would not speak, and Sean beat him with a sickness in his
own stomach, and the sweat of shame and guilt running into his eyes,
swinging the sjambok mechanically with Ins fingers clawed around the
butt of it, and his mouth full of the shiny saliva of self-hatred.
When at last Dirk screamed, Sean dropped the sjambok, reeled back
against the side of the wagon and leaned there gasping, fighting down
the nausea which flooded acid-tasting up his throat.
Dirk screamed again and again, and Sean caught him up and held him to
his chest.
'I'm sorry, Pa! I'm sorry. I'll never do it again, I promise you. I
love you, I love you best of all-and I'll never do it again,'
screamed Dirk, and they clung to each other.
For days thereafter not one of the servants had smiled at Sean nor
spoken to him other than to acknowledge an order. For there was not
one of them, including Mbejane, who would not steal and cheat and lie
to ensure that Dirk Courtney had whatever he desired at the exact
moment he desired it. They could hate anyone, including Sean, who
denied it to him.
That was two weeks ago. And now, thought Sean watching that ugly
mouth, do we do it all again?
Then suddenly Dirk smiled. It was one of those changes of mood that
left Sean slightly bewildered, for when Dirk smiled his mouth came
right. It was irresistible.
'I'll go, Dad.' Cheerfully, as though he were volunteering, he prodded
the pony and trotted back towards the wagons.
'Cheeky little bugger ' gruffed Sean for Mbejane's benefit, but
silently he queried Ins share of the blame. He had raised the boy with
a wagon as his home and the veld as his schoolroom, grown men his
companions and authority over them as his undisputed right of birth.
