Turf and Veldt

Front matter

TURF AND VELDT. In the Press. Ready March, 1893. AUSTRALIAN EARLY REMINISCENCES. By A PIONEER, ILLUSTRATED BY HUME NISBET. Large Crown Bvo. 232 pp. This Work recounts, with much vividness, interesting personal experiences of life and adventure in the early days of the Colony. The illustrations are by a master hand. LONDON A. P. MAESDEN, Publisher, 27, Southampton Street, —i Covent Garden, E.C. TURF AND VELDT. BY DALRYMPLE J. BELGRAVE, h'- Author qf "Jack IVarleigk," " Luck at the Diamond Fields." LONDON : A. P. MARSDEN, 27, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. THE |}t;teMm; of Cl#*wty By WALLIS MACKAY. ONE VOLUME. With 80 Illustrations by the Author. The World says : - " A brightly written book." Morning Post: — "Bright and attractive." The Saturday Review : — " Mr. Mackay is as good with pencil as with pen."

The Scotsman: — "Written in a bright, spirited style ; and the illustrations are full of fun and move ment." The Spectator: — "Much that is worth reading in Mr. Mackay's Book." Foolscap Quarto, handsomely bound in Cloth, bevelled edges, 7s. 6d. A. P. MARSDEN, LONDON PKEFACE. The attention which South Africa is attracting encourages me to offer these stories to the public. In most of them I attempt to describe the Diamond Fields some half-dozen years ago, when, with but very few exceptions, the men who to-day lead the way in South African progress sojourned there. A SPORTING NOVEL BY A NEW AUTHOR. THE FASCINATING MISS LAMARCHE. BY C. C. FERNIVAL. yid pp., crowti Svo, cloth, silver lettering, 2s. 6d. " We cordially recommend the history of Miss Lizzie Lamarche." — The Saturday Review. "The situations are exciting." — The Literary World.

" There is a brightness in the writer's manner that will ensure the perusal of his tale." — Morning Post. "The interest is sustained throughout." — National Observer. " The story is an exceptionally clever one, and it is a long time since we have seen a work by an unknown writer of a quarter the power." — Bristol Mercury. "An exceptionally interesting and clever story. It is quite out of the beaten track, and cannot fail to interest everyone with even a tinge of sporting in his or her composition." — Sporting Times. London: A. P. MARSDEN, Publisher. CONTENTS. i'Ai.r I. — The Kimberley Cup. Chap. I. — Morning Gallops ... ... 9 Chap. II. — D'Arcy's Little Game 23 Chap. III.— The Biters Bit 33 II. — Diamond Mall. Chap. I. — On Board the Trojan 44 Chap. IL— Detective and I.D.B. 52 Chap. III.— The Tiger at Bay 62 Chap. IV.— Too late! 72 III. — Won "On the Square" 82 IV. — Diamonds ake Trumps !

Chapter I. Morning Gallops

For a week or two before the races at Kimberley, a large and fairly representative assembly of the strangely mixed population of the Diamond Fields gather together on the racecourse of a morning to see the horses engaged in the different events do their gallops. A good many men must have looked across the long stretch of veldt to the range of flat-topped hills in the distance, and found their thoughts wandering back to bygone mornings on Newmarket Heath, South of England Downs, or York shire Wolds. Certainly one morning, some ten days or so before the first day of the races, amongst the sportsmen who were up betimes, instead of as too many men, who keep it up at the club to the small hours will do, wasting in sleep the pleasantest and healthiest hours of the South African day, there were several men who bad for weal or woe once trod the English turf.

The faces of one or two of the lower grade of Kimber ley sportsmen had in their time been unpleasantly recognised by the officials who look after the respectability of betting rings at some English race meetings. On the other hand, that tall, good-looking man, with iron-grey hair, whose suit of soft white homespum fits his loose graceful figure so admirably, is Jim Harmer, a large farmer from tbe colony, who, besides having been a mighty hunter in the interior, has been a great supporter of South African racing, and is familiar enough with most English racecourses and training-grounds, where he is known as a judicious and plucky purchaser for South Africa. Another face, a bronzed, soldier-like one, has been seen often enough on English racecourses, and its owner bears a name very celebrated in the annals of the turf, for he is Captain George Melton, V.C., the nephew of Sir George Melton, who has been winning classic races for the last half-cen tury.

He is looking with some little pride at a httle grey (the Castaway) that is coming round the turn into the straight, and is attracting the attention of most of the good judges present. The grey is entered in his name in the Kimberley Cup, and is the joint property of him and two of bis brother officers of the — th Fusiliers, quartered at Capetown. For the — th are a sporting lot, and Melton and his friends determined to maintain in South Africa the sporting reputation their regiment had gained in England, Ireland, and India, and had commissioned Sir George Melton's trainer to send out something good enough to beat anything in South Africa. Another who had gained an experience of racing at home — purchasing it somewhat dear — is a grey-haired man standing talking to another person, some way from where most of the other spectators had taken up their position.

His face, for all the five and a half decades which it has worn, is a singularly handsome and winning one, though it is marred somewhat when one knows it well by an expression of weakness, which becomes irritating. He has still something of youth in him, which comes out strongly as he watches the grey gallop past. "By gad, there's more class there than in anything else on the course. The old regi ment have got hold of a good thing, and those young fellows will go back to the Cape with a hat full of money, he said, more to himself than his companion." The latter was a tall, gaunt-looking middle-aged man, with a large coarse, strong mouth, fringed by a long weedy beard of red hair. He was, as he would put it, more respec ably dressed than most of the men of the racecourse, for he wore a coat of black broadcloth, and there was about him an air as of the British workman in his Sunday clothes.

There was a look half of anger, half of contempt, in his httle light blue eyes as he listened to the other. " So you ain't on my side, Major, and you want to see me beat 1 Well, perhaps you know best who are your friends, but I should'a thought me and my 'orse 'ad your jjood wishes," he said. " Good wishes, Garrard, of course you have. It would be odd if you hadn't, and you have a rare good chance of winning. I always said so," answered the other quickly enough and somewhat nervously, but with a want of enthusiasm which somewhat belied his words ; " but, of course, one likes to see the old corps hold its own." " Well, the old corps don't put you into a good billet as secretary of the Ixion Diamond Mining Company; and the old corps doesn't stand your friend and prevent your accounts being overhauled in an unfriendly spirit ; or hasn't stood your friend these last two years, as I have," answered Garrard, and he gave the other a look which somewhat belied the character for friendliness which he laid claim to.

" I know what you've done for me. I am the last man to forget it ; you need not remind me of it." "Needn't I; well, I ain't so sure about that neither. There is just one thing I'd like you to know, that I think the sooner those young swells clear off from the Fields, with or without a hat full of money, the better it will be for all parties. There's one of them I don't like ; seems to me he is unsettling things that it's high time were settled for good and all. Yet see, Major, as I don't like what's going on there," and Garrard pointed to Melton, who, about fifty yards from them, was talking to a singularly pretty girl, whose likeness to Dick Norton suggested their relationship, which was that of father and daughter. Norton looked rather embarrassed and uncomfortable as he glanced from the man standing beside him to his daughter's companion.

Garrard's expression, as he watched the pretty girl with whom Melton was talking, and who was laughing so brightly and happily, made Norton shudder to himself. " Well, Garrard, there is really nothing in it. You can't expect a girl like her not to be pleased at the attentions of a man like Melton, but there is nothing serious in it." " A man like Melton ! Who the is Melton, and what good is he to her or you 1 Why, I heard say that if something didn't turn up he'd be clean broke, and have to leave the army, and you know what good a soldier swell is when he is broke, leastwise, you ought to, for all as knows you does ; but, then, Melton is a gentleman, like you are Norton, and a devilish lot of good it's done you, Seems it don't keep your books straight or yourself straight either," snarled Garrard.

" No, it's time she's got to be spoke to straight about the matter. Tell her that I want her, and that I can send you to jail if I like. If you don't tell her, I'll do it for you." " Hang it, man, you needn't talk like that. I swear 1 never knew there was anything wrong about the books. It was only an oversight, if anything was not accounted for. You treat me as if I were a thief. By George ! it's unfair — grossly unfair." " That's it, turn round on your best friend and abuse him. 1 daresay I am not a gentleman but then the other directors of the Ixion Company ain't gentlemen either. What do you think they'd have done if they had found out what I did ? I stuck to you, and made a proposition which you accepted gladly enough at the time, though now you think you can chuck me ; but I mean holding you to your word, and if the agreement ain't carried out straight, and if Miss Aggie ain't willing to marry her father's benefactor and saviour, well, what could have come out then will come out."

" So it shall be carried out, only you're in such a hurry, and so upsetting. Why, she is getting to like you ; knows how much you have done for me and all ; but she might be left in peace for a bit, poor girl," said Norton. " Ah ! " he added, with a tone of relief in his voice, for he saw a chance of turning the conversation from a subject that was very distasteful, " here comes our lot. Cawdor's going firstrate to day. No, that horse of Melton's will never beat him, and you'll win the cup all right." " Maybe I shall," snarled Garrard ; " but don't forget what I said about the other business. I want things to be settled, and Melton might have a hint given him to keep away from where he ain't wanted, and is only making mischief. I wish that d d Castaway had broken his back before Melton bought him.

I wish I never bothered about tbe race, but I wanted to win it ; and when I've wanted a thing I've generally had it since I've been on these Fields. " I ought to beat that confounded soldier officer. I paid more money for my horse than he and his pals did for theirs, confound him," he added, as his horse Cawdor, a big raking chestnut with a white blaze on his face, swept by where they were standing. Not a bad-looking horse, and by no means a bad goer, was the opinion of the best judges. The race was generally believed to be a question between Melton's horse and Garrard's and, so far as could be judged from the few wagers that were booked on the course that morning, the little grey had made the better impression. Garrard looked rather surly as he walked up to Miss Norton, and he was not made in any better temper by hearing her tell Mel ton that she hoped his horse would win.

" So you don't stick up for Kimberley, Miss Norton, but want to see the stranger the winner. Old friends are surer they say, though," he added. rather moodily. " Yes, old friends are, perhaps ; but I don't see why one shouldn't wish well to the friends that come from a distance. Besides, Castaway belongs to the — th, father's old regi ment." Garrard growled out something which was not audible, but which seemed anything but in the nature of a blessing, on the distinguished regiment which were interested in the success of Castaway. Melton was confoundedly in his way, he thought. It was bad enough that he should stop his winning the Kimberley Cup on which he had set his heart. In fact, some months before he had made a large bet with another Kimberley man that he would win it. To win his bet he determined to pay a big price in England for a horse that was decidedly better than anything in South Africa.

He thought he had done this. The handicappers had put a good weight on his horse, but he felt pretty confident from what he had been told by men who knew more than he did about racing (Norton amongst others) that the weight would not affect his chance of beating the class of horse he was likely to meet. But now every one was beginning to believe that Melton had managed to pick up at home a rare good horse in Castaway. And what was worse, Melton looked as if he might upset his • chances of winning something he cared much more for than the Kimberley Cup. Garrard had grown accustomed to have his own way. For some time he had been a very important man in the board-rooms of Diamond Mining Companies, and he learnt to push others on one side in mining matters. People on the Diamond Fields thought a good deal of him because of his wealth and success.

A good many men would have told him that Agnes Norton was far more out of his reach than the Kimberley Cup. But he did not look at things in that way. She was only Dick Norton's daughter after all, though she looked so thoroughbred and held herself so proudly. It was non sense, so he thought, to talk to him about her family and connections when her father, the only relation with whom she had anything to do, was a poor fellow like Dick, who hadn't a penny and never could make one or keep one. Perhaps he was rough and ill-educated, but that hadn't THE KIMBERLEY CUI. 17 prevented his becoming one of the richest men in the place. And then, was he not her father's benefactor and preserver? Dick Norton would not dare to deny that. Poor old Dick made, perhaps, one of the many false steps in his life when, after being forced to sell out of the army, with a few hundred pounds, and a wife and a little daughter, he found his way out to the Diamond Fields.

An old brother officer had gone out there before him and reported favourably of the place. Half the broken division were out there, he-wrote, and doing well, and there were big fortunes to be made. So there were, but not by men like Dick Norton. How he kept afloat at all, and always made some sort of home for his wife until she died, and afterwards for his daughter, was a marvel. He prospered in nothing, and was a man whose affairs were never otherwise than in volved. So Garrard, who had a genius for petty finance, soon managed to get a good many holds over him. " Old Garrard wasn't half a bad chap when you knew him ; a big hearted man, who would do you a good turn if he could, any day," easy-going Dick Norton declared. People began to agree with him when Garrard, by using his influence, got him the post of secretary to the Ixion Diamond Mining Company.

Men said that Garrard might have his bad points, but he was a good friend. The affairs of that Company were, when Dick Norton entered their service, in a fctate of considerable confusion. Under his supervision B I/I the confusion became almost hopeless — Dick Norton him self was generally as muddled as the Company's accounts. Garrard, who had always had the reputation of being very near and stingy, developed a habit of treating his secretary to champagne of a morning. Champagne is said to be an extremely wholesome drink on the Diamond Fields, and is believed to keep off fever. But the consumption of the greater part of a bottle does not tend to clear the head, and in Dick Norton's case it had the effect of creating an after-thirst, which he quenched with brandies and soda. All this told on the way the books of the Ixion Company were kept.

One day Garrard, who was chairman, came into the secretary's office to make some inquiries about certain cheques that had been paid to the company. Dick puzzled over the books hopelessly for some time. He could hardly understand any system of book keeping, and nobody could understand his. But though the books were confused, it seemed pretty clear that the cheques had been received by Norton, and not accounted for by him to the company. At that interview Norton learnt that his friend Garrard wished to become his son in-law. He also obtained some closer insight into his benefactor's character. For all that, he consented to further his views. It would put off tbe evil day; some thing might turn up in the meantime ; and, after all, " Garrard wasn't such a bad fellow," Norton argued to himself.

Garrard had insisted that Norton should write out a statement to him, which practically amounted to a confession, and though the latter didn't like doing this, he was persuaded into it. " He has behaved uncommonly well to me, Aggie, and though he is a rough customer, he has got a good heart," Norton said to his daughter. On the other hand, he had urged Garrard not to hurry matters, and the latter felt confident that he would get all he wanted. He had got Norton in his power, and he could afford to wait. Melton's appearance on the scene had, however, made him feel a good deal less confident. It was not surprising, therefore, that Garrard cursed Melton, his horse, his regiment, and everything that was his, as he turned to walk to the Cape-cart in which he was going to be driven back to Kimberley.

Somehow the two prizes that he coveted — Aggie Norton and the race — though he cared for the one much more than the other — seemed to him to be associated together. If he beat Melton in one he would beat him in the other, he persuaded him self. For, with that quick perception which jealousy some times gives to the dullest natures, he knew that the hated soldier officer was his rival. As Garrard was getting into his cart he felt a touch on his shoulder. " All right, Mister Garrath ; don't be angry at my thpeaking to you. Bleth yer, in racing no one notices who thpeaks to who. On the turf and under it all men are equal, as some coves put it. We can talk to von another just as if we vas at my house on the quiet," said the man b THE KIMBERLEY (UP. who had come up to him, a ittle hatchet-faced Jew, in whose twinkling eyes there was an expression of cunning and humour mingled, as if he enjoyed the embarrassment which Garrard showed at being recognised by him in public.

" Look 'ere, we can talk in the cart. Nobody won't think the worse of you 'cause you happen to be a chance passenger along with me in the same cart. No one would expect you to hire one all to yourself. I want to tell you about this 'ere race." " What the blazes do you want talking at all ; what do you know about race-horses ? They ain't in your line ; they never dealt in 'em in Petticoat Lane," said Garrard. "Nor they did, my dear; but though maybe I don't know much about 'orses, I know one little bit about men who've got to do with 'orses, and I know something about one who's apt a good deal to do with that blessed Castaway, of which all the sharps seemed to think such a lot this morning, " said the little man, as he got into the cart after Garrard. " Do you mean that cursed Melton? " said Gerrard.

" No, I don't mean Melton, but I mean a party as Melton seems to 'ave a very high opinion of — a party as has come up with him, trains and looks after the 'orse, and who goes by the name of James Brien, though he didn't go by that name when he and I was boarding on a Inland which ain't a thousand miles off Weymouth. They called him by another name when he got seven years at the Cambridge Assizes for poisoning Black Jack, the favourite for the City and Suburban. He wern't so pleased to see me when I runs across him yesterday, and fust he says he don't know nothink about me; but he owns up, he does, ven he sees I twigged him right enough, and says he's on the square. ' Then,' says I, ' if yer on the square, of course you've told Captain Melton all about that 'ere Black Jack job, and he's agreed to forget the past, so therp won't be no occasion for me to keep my mouth shut,' I says, a grinnin' at 'im, and that took him off his perch a bit."

" Well, what's that to do with me? " said Garrard. " 0 my ! what's that got to do with you ? What a blessed hinnocent hinfant ! They say that 'ere Castaway is cock-sure to beat your horse, and that 'ere cursed Melton, as you calls him, will just dance off with the stakes in his pocket. It don't occur to you that it might be made worth someone's while, just for the sake of old times, to play the Black Jack trick over again. No, no, course it don't. Why, Garrard, whatever is the good of cutting this 'ere innocent caper with me, as once was yer partner ? Maybe you don't want to win ? Maybe this 'ere Captain Melton is a particular pal o' yours ? " and the Jew's eyes twinkled wickedly as he watched Garrard's expression. " Don't know why I should be spoken to about this sort of thing ; it's not in my line, and it ain't my business if Melton chooses to employ a thief of a trainer who chooses to poison his horse."

"That's very 'igh and mighty, and a fine line to take; it's all very well for them as can afford it ; but a plant such as this can't be worked without a little capital, for it will have to be made worth someone's while to get at the horse." Garrard said nothing for some minutes ; but the other, as he watched him, felt pretty certain he was going to fall into his plans. " A good lot of money might be made out of those officers who own the horse ; tbat cursed Melton, as you calls 'im, strikes me as being one of the sort who find it difficult to stop backing a good thing, particularly when it was in his own stable," Levi added, and he saw that his remark told. " Well, I shall come and see you to-night after your place is shut up," Garrard said when the cart stopped at Levi's canteen, a little iron shanty about which there hung an indescribable air of disrepute, which seemed to belong to the very building itself, apart from its proprietor or its customers, or the evil-looking barman who could be seen through the open door practising by himself the useful art of cheating at dice.

Chapter II

D'ARCY's LITTLE GAME. That the Castaway was a real good thing for the Cup was the general opinion at Kimberley, and people did not grudge Melton and his friends their luck — in fact, the soldiers' victory would be a very popular one. They were generally voted good fellows, and they made heaps of friends. But though the best judges said the Castaway would win, Garrard seemed to have plenty of confidence in his chance, and one night at the Club he astonished everyone by the way he laid odds to Melton and his friends, first laying six to four, then two to one, and at last three to one, against the horse, to the tune of some thousand pounds. " Can't make that fellow out at all," Melton said to Knox of the — th on the morning after they had taken the bets. " He probably knows what he is about, or he thinks he does ; but it is all three to one against his horse beat ing ours_, and there is hardly anything else in the race with a ghost of a chance."

" We have a good bit on," said Knox ; " though those bets of his were too tempting to refuse, but they mount up to very nearly a thousand pounds if we lose. Yes, they clo indeed ; one way and another it will cost us a good deal if we don't pull it off." " Never mind, we are bound to win the race and to return with plenty of money and a pleasant visit to look back to. I like the people here well ; hospitable, jolly lot," said Melton. For all that, he felt rather grave as he added up what he stood to lose if his horse did not win. Since the last few days he was not quite the same reckless, happy-go-lucky young soldier he had been hitherto, and his duns and debts and difficulties had begun to oppress him. He had realised that this racing speculation was hardly a judicious invest ment for his last few hundreds.

" Don't know what I shall do if we're beat, Knox," he said, after he had thought rather gloomily for some time. " It seems to me I shan't have a penny beyond my pay to bless myself with." " Go home, old chap, and pick up an heiress. You ought to be well in it ; a V.C., and all that sort of thing," said Knox. " Don't want to marry an heiress," answered Melton, and as he started off to walk from their hotel across the Market Square to Norton's house, where they had been asked to breakfast, Melton thought of the girl who was anything but an heiress he had fallen in love with. Yes, for her sake, he would face poverty, or banishment from England or even retirement from his profession, to which he was devoted, he declared to himself ; and he thought how beautiful she had looked the evening before in the soft light of a glorious South African night, as she saton the step of Dick Norton's house in a low rocking-chair.

The morning market was over, but the square was still crammed with wagons which had brought produce and wood from the colony and from hundreds of miles up country. On the wagons there were Dutch Boers with their wives and families. The men, for the most part, long, heavy looking fellows, with light beards and dull, dreamy faces ; the women, shapeless and pasty-faced. Amongst the men looking after the oxen you could see types of most of the native races of South Africa — Kaffirs, Hottentots, Griquas, and weird, monkey-like little Bushmen. Coolies were carrying about ill-looking confectionery ; while hungry eyed Jews, with packs of Birmingham jewellery and cheap watches, were flitting about amongst wagons, and doing a very good business with the simple Dutchmen. As Melton and Knox crossed the square, a man from one of the wagons came up to them, and to their surprise called them by their names.

He looked like a Dutch Boer, for he was dressed in baggy trousers and a short jacket of cord, a soft felt hat, and wore a pair of home-made shoes of soft leather such as the Dutch farmers make at their farm houses. " Don't you remember me — D'Arcy, of the — th Hussars, we were quartered together at Dublin, and knew each other pretty well ? But what brings you up here ? " Melton remembered D'Arcy of the — th well enough He had been one of the smartest of subalterns, and Melton remembered that he had last seen him most elaborately got up at Ascot. Melton explained what brought them to Kimberley, and in return D'Arcy informed them that he was transport-riding, and that he had come up to Kimberley from Natal with his wagons, after having been away from the Diamond Fields for some years. " I am not surprised you didn't know me, for I look quite the Dutchman in this rig, which I bought in the Free State.