revolution.
Teh-ho. It --moved more readily.
Teh-ho. Gravity caught it. Ponderously it bumped down the slope and they ran behind it. The fire from the donga doubled its volume, rattling like hail against the huge metal cylinder. The singing of the Zulus changed its tone also; the deep-voiced chanting quickened, climbed excitedly, and became the blood trill. That insane, horrible squealing made Sean's skin crawl, tickled his spine with the ghost fingers of memory, but it inflamed him also. His mouth opened and he squealed with them. He touched the first grenade with the burning rope then flung it in a high spluttering sparking arc. It burst in the air above the donga. He threw again. Crump, crump. Duff was using his explosive as well. The boiler crashed over the lip of the donga and came to rest in a cloud of dust; the Zulus followed it in, spreading out, still shrieking, and now their assegais were busy. The white men broke, clawed frantically out of the ravine and fled, the Zulus hacking at them as they ran.
When Francois arrived with fifty armed diggers following him the fight was over. Take your boys down to the camps. Comb them out carefully. We want every one of those that got away, Duff told him. It's about time we had a little law and order on this field. How will we pick out the ones that were in on it?
asked Francois.
By their white faces and the sweat on their shirts you will know them. , Duff answered.
Francois and his men went, leaving Sean and Duff to clean up the battlefield. It was a messy job, the stabbing spears had made it so. They destroyed those horses that the blast had left still half alive and they gleaned more than a dozen corpses from the donga and the slope below it. Two of them were Zulus. The wounded, and there were many, they packed into a wagon and took them down to Candy's Hotel.
It was early afternoon by the time they arrived. They threaded the wagon through the crowd and stopped it in front of the Hotel. It seemed the entire population of the goldfield was there, packed around the small open space in which Francois was holding his prisoners.
Francois was almost hysterical with excitement. He was sweeping the shotgun around in dangerous circles as he harangued the crowd. Then he darted back to prod one of the prisoners with the twin muzzles. You thunders, he screamed. Steal our claims, hey steal our claims.
At that moment he caught sight of Duff and Sean bringing the wagon through the press. Duff, Duff. We got them. We got the whole lot of them. The crowd backed respectfully away from the menace of that circling shotgun and Sean flinched as it pointed directly at him for a second.. I see, Francois, Duff assured him. in fact, I have seldom seen anyone more completely had.
Francois's prisoners were swathed in ropes; they could move only their heads and as additional security a digger with a loaded rifle stood over each of them. Duff climbed down off the wagon.
don't you think you should slacken those ropes a little? Duff asked dubiously.
And have them escape? Francois was indignant. Do you think they'd get very far? tNo, I don't suppose so. Well, another half hour and they'll all have gangrene look at that one's hand already, a beautiful shade of blue. Reluctantly Francois conceded and told his men to untie them.
Duff pushed his way through the crowd and climbed the steps of the Hotel. From there he held up his hands for silence. There have been a lot of men killed today, we don't want it to happen again. One way we can prevent it is to make sure that this lot get what they deserve Cheers were led by Francois. But we must do it properly. I suggest we elect a committee to deal with this affair and with any other problems that crop up on these fields. Say ten members and a chairman.
More cheers. Call it the Diggers Committee, shouted someone and the crowd took up the name enthusiastically. All right, the Diggers Committee it is. Now we want a chairman, any suggestions?
Mr Charleywood, shouted Francois. Yes, Duff, he'll do. Yes, Duff Charleywood. Any other suggestions?
No, roared the crowd. Thank you, gentlemen. Duff smiled at them. I am sensible of the honour. Now, ten members Jock and Trevor Heyns. Karl Lochtkamper. Francois du Toit. Sean Courtney. There were fifty nominations. Duff baulked at counting votes so the committee was elected by applause. He called the names one at a time and judged the strength of the response to each. Sean and Francois were among those elected. Chairs and a table were brought out onto the veranda and Duff took his seat. With a water-jug he hamInered for silence, declared the first session of the DiggersCommittee open and then immediately fined three members of the crowd ten pounds each for discharging firearms during a meeting, gross contempt of Committee. The fines were paid and a proper air of solemnity achieved.
I'll ask Mr Courtney to open the case for the, prosecution.
Sean stood up and gave a brief description of the morning's battle, ending You were there, Your Honour, so you know all about it anyway. So I was, agreed Duff. Thank you, Mr Courtney. I think that was a very fair picture you presented. Now, he looked at the prisoners, who speaks for you? There was a minute of shuffling and whispering then one of them was pushed forward. He pulled off his hat and blushed purple. Your Worship, he began, then stopped, wriggling with embarrassment. Your worship. You've said that already. I don't rightly know where to begin, Mr Charleywood I mean Your Honour, sir.
Duff looked at the prisoners again. Perhaps you'd like to reconsider your choice. Their first champion was withdrawn in disgrace and a fresh one sent forward to face the Committee. He had more fire. You bastards got no right to do this to us, he started and Duff promptly fined him ten pounds. His next attempt was more polite. Your Honour, you can't do this to us. We had our rights, you know, that new proclamation and all, I mean, them old titles wasn't legal no more now, was they? We just came along as peaceful as you please, the old titles not being legal, we got a right to do what we done. Then you bastards, I mean Your Honour, dynamited us and like we had a right to protect ourselves, I mean after all, didn't we, sir? A brilliant defence most ably conducted. Your fellows should be grateful to you, Duff complimented him, then turned to his Committee. Well now, how say you merry gentlemen. Guilty or not guilty? Guilty. They spoke together and Francois added for emphasis, the dirty thunders. We will now consider sentence. String them up, shouted someone and instantly the mood changed. The mob growled: an ugly sound. I'm a carpenter, I'll whip you up a handsome set of gallows in no time at all. Don't waste good wood on them. Use a treeGet the ropes. String them up. The crowd surged in, lynch mad. Sean snatched Franco is's shotgun and jumped up onto the table. So help me God, I'll shoot the first one of you that touches them before this court says so. They checked and Sean pressed his advantage. At this range I can't miss.
Come on, try me, there's two loads of buckshot in here.
Someone will get cut in half. They fell back still muttering. Perhaps you've forgotten, but there's a police force in this country and there's a law against killing. Hang them today and it'll be your turn tomorrow! You're right, Mr Courtney, it'll be cruel heartless murder. That it will, wailed the spokesman. Shut up, you bloody fool, Duff snarled at him and someone in the crowd laughed. The laughter caught on and Duff sighed silently with relief. That had been very close. Give them the old tar and feathers. Duff grinned. Now you're talking sense. Who's got a few barrels of tar for sale! He looked round. What, no offers? Then we'll have to think of something else! We got ten drums of red paint, thirty shillings each, good imported brand. Duff recognized the speaker as a trader who had opened a general dealer's store down at Ferrieras Camp. Mr Tarry suggests paint. What about it? No, it comes off too easily, that's no goodI'll let you have it cheap, twenty-five shillings a drum No, stick your ruddy paint, the crowd booed him. Give them a twist on Satan's Roulette Wheel, shouted another voice, and the crowd clamoured agreement. That's it, give them the wheel. Round and round and round she goes, where she stops nobody knows, roared a black-bearded digger from the roof of the shanty across the road. The crowd howled.
Sean watched Duff's expression, the smile had gone.
He was weighing it up. If he stopped them again they might lose all patience and risk the shotgun. He couldn't chance it. All right. If that's what you want. He faced the terrified cluster of prisoners. The sentence of this court is that you play roulette with the devil for one hour and that you then leave this goldfield, if we catch you back here again you'll get another hour of it. The wounded are excused the first half of the sentence. I think they've had enough. Mr du Toit will supervise the punishment. We'd prefer the paint, Mr Charleywood, pleaded the spokesman again. I bet you would, said Duff softly, but the crowd was carrying them away already, out towards the open veld beyond the Hotel. Most of them had staked claims of their own and they didn't like claim jumpers. Sean climbed down off the table.
Let's go and have a drink, Duff said to him.
Aren't you going to watch? asked Sean. I've seen it done once before down in the Cape. That was enough. What do they do? Go and have a look, I'll be waiting for you at the Bright Angels. I'll be surprised if you stay the full hour. By the time Sean joined the crowd most of the wagons had been gathered from the camps and drawn up in a line.
Men swarmed round them fitting jacks under the axles to lift the big back wheels clear of the ground. Then the prisoners were hustled forward, one to each wheel. Eager hands lifted them and held them while their wrists and ankles were lashed to the rim of the wheel with the hub in the middle of their backs and their arms and legs spread-eagled like stranded
