Wild Life in the Land of the Giants Part 18

I obeyed, feeling sure Peter was up to some lark. About five minutes after, the door was opened, not by Peter, but by a black man in a white jacket.

He sprang back in amazement when he saw me.

"You must be de debbil, sah," he said.

"Thank you," I replied, "but _you're_ more of his colour."

The explanation is this: after calling for beer and sherbet, Peter, who knew the landlord, having been here before, said--

"Now, Mr Brown, you see this young gentleman," alluding to Jill.

"Yes, sah," said Mr Brown, "pertiklerly handsom boy, sah."

"True," said Peter, "but his chief peculiarity is his ubiquitousness."

"Yes, sah, sure 'nuff, sah; come to look again, he is rather obliquitous."

"He can go through a key-hole."

The man drew back.

"Now, come and I'll show you." And upstairs the three went; and after making sure the window was properly fastened, Jill was duly locked into the room, and the landlord put the key in his pocket. In a minute after they returned. The room was empty to all appearance--Jill, in fact, was behind a chair in a corner. The landlord peeped under the bed, then stared in blank amazement.

"Now come on," cried Peter, "we'll find him out of doors. Go and look in your little stable."

And there, of course, Mr Brown found me. Meanwhile Jill had got downstairs, and had hidden himself in the parlour, so that Peter had an opportunity of ringing the changes on this trick in several ways.

Finally we both appeared at once.

"I'm going to pay for the sherbet," said I and Jill both in a breath, and both extending our hands at once.

"No, sah," said Mr Brown, "I not touch it. P'r'aps sah, the money is obliquitous too--ha! ha!"

We had a deal of fun that day one way or another, and very much enjoyed our visit to Napoleon's tomb. I believe I should have waxed quite romantic about that, or about some of the splendid views we saw on every side of us, but who could be romantic with Peter alongside making us laugh every moment?

After returning, we went to climb ladder hill. Every one does so, therefore we must. The ladder leads up the face of a cliff about four hundred feet high.

"I think," said Peter, "I see my way to a final joke before going off.

Jill, old man, you hide down here till I shout from the cliff top, then come slowly up the ladder, rubbing yourself as if you had tumbled."

Then up we went. We were in luck. An old gentleman at the top was watching our ascent from under his white umbrella. We said "good afternoon," and pa.s.sed along some little way, and at a sign from Peter I got into hiding.

Peter ran back. "Oh!" he cried, "I fear my young friend has fallen over the cliff."

"Dear me, dear me," said the old gentleman, looking bewilderedly round, "_so_ he must have. How very, very terrible."

"But it won't hurt him, will it?"

"Hurt him? why he'll be cat's meat by this time."

"Oh, you don't know my friend," said Peter. "He's a perfect little gutta-percha ball, he is."

Then he shouted, "Jill--Jill, are you hurt?"

And when Jill presently came puffing and blowing up the ladder, and making pretence to dust his jacket, that old gentleman's face was such a picture of mingled amazement and terror that I felt sorry for him; so I suddenly appeared on the scene, and, according to Peter, thus spoiled the sport.

Jill and I had built all sorts of castles in the air anent our arrival at Cape Town, and the meeting with our darling mother and brave papa.

We were not in the least little bit afraid of a scolding from either.

The _Salamander_ was to lie here for a whole week, so we would be certain to enjoy ourselves if--ah! there always is an _if_. I do not believe there ever was a castle in the air yet that had not a big ugly ogre living in some corner of it. Supposing father were killed, or something happened to mamma.

But here was the _Cape_ at last, and the bay, and the town, and the grand old hills above. It was early in the morning when we dropped anchor, but there was plenty of bustle and stir on the water nevertheless. The houses looked very white in the sun's glare, which was so bright on the water that we could scarcely look on it. The hills were purple, grey, and green with patches of bright crimson here and there, for it was early summer in this lat.i.tude. Indeed, everywhere around us was ablaze with sunlight and beauty. But all this fell flat on Jill and me, and we did not feel any near approach to happiness till the boat was speeding swiftly towards the landing with us. For somewhere in sh.o.r.e yonder lived, we hoped, all we held truly dear.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

LIFE AT SEA--POOR FATHER'S DEATH--MATTIE AND I.

Where did Major Jones of the --th live?

Was the regiment in town?

These were only two out of a dozen questions we asked about two dozen people on the street. And greatly to our astonishment, no one could give us a definite answer. We thought all the world knew our papa.

At last we met a smart sergeant of marines, who told us afterwards he was just up from Symon's Town on a few days' outing. Our father's regiment had gone to the front, away up country, but he would go with us to the barracks. He did so, and got an address--that of the house where the major used to live; and he walked with us that distance, then bade us good day.

The door was opened by a little yellow lady wearing a crimson silk bandana by way of cap. We had hardly spoken ere she guessed we were the "young ma.s.sa boys that Ma'am Jones speak so much about."

"And mother, is she with father?"

"She was wid Capitan Jones, but she come home to-day, sick."

"She is here, then?"

"No, to-day she _come_ home."

"Is she very ill?"

"No, bless de lubly lad, no, no ill at all, only sick."

Here was confusion and grief all mingled up together.

However, we waited. It was a beautiful room we were in, all jalousied and curtained, all thoroughly tropical in appearance, while every nick-nack around us was mother's--her work-box, writing-desk, books, everything.

A light carriage stopped ere long, and at a glance we could see it was mother's. We could not wait any longer, but ran right away down the garden to meet her.

Then the scene--which must be imagined.