Роберт Фиш - Rough Diamond

“Johannesburg is in the Transvaal,” Rhodes said with a faint smile, interrupting. “This is the Cape Colony. This is where I’m Premier.”

“—or what your involvement with it might be,” Barney went on, quite as if Rhodes had not spoken, “but if you have any influence with its members, I think there are a few things you ought to consider. As you know, I met with Kruger almost two years ago—”

“When you got him to agree to the railway,” Rhodes said. “That was well done,” he added almost grudgingly. “But that’s ancient history.”

Barney shook his head. “Look, Cecil, I’m a lot closer to the thing than you are, stuck down here in the Cape and getting your information — or often misinformation — by telegraph. I tell you the Reform Committee is going about this thing the wrong way. The way to work on Kruger is certainly not to antagonize him. He came around on the railway thing; he’ll come around on other things as well.”

“He hasn’t come around on the franchise,” Rhodes said, a stubborn set to his thin lips, “and as I understand it, that’s the main complaint of the Reform Committee.”

Barney snorted. “If Kruger gave the Uitlanders the vote right now, he’d be crazy, and one thing Paul Kruger is not is crazy! Johannesburg is almost as advanced as Kimberley, now. We’ve got streetlights, they’re working on a sewage system, it’s already bigger than Kimberley. He has given in on things; give him time and he’ll give in on more. What I’m trying to say is that this is no time for the Reform Committee to do anything foolish.”

“I see. Well, let me think it over. As I said before,” Rhodes said, “the Transvaal is out of my province. I have enough on my hands with the Cape. However, I do know some members of the Reform Committee, and I suppose it would do no harm to discuss this matter with them—”

He paused as the door to the room opened and his brother Frank poked his head in. The colonel frowned to see Barney Barnato sitting there. Cecil Rhodes turned back to Barney.

“Is there anything else you wished to discuss, Barney? I don’t wish to be rude, but I have a rather full schedule, and I would like to spend a little time with my brother—”

Barney stood up. “No, I think I’ve said what I came to say, Cecil. I just hope you fully understood what I was trying to say. Nobody really gains from trouble,” he added, as much for Colonel Frank Rhodes’ sake as for the Premier’s. “It can only cost money. Your money and my money.” He nodded and walked through the door that Frank Rhodes had been holding open for him; the door closed behind him. Neville Pickering was sitting at a desk beyond the door; he nodded stiffly. A butler was waiting to escort Barney to his rented carriage in the drive that would take him back to the railway station.

As he climbed in and gave the necessary directions, he wondered why he had taken the trouble to come to Cape Town. It was evident that whatever was being planned was well along its way. Certainly all his arguing in the Rand Club in Johannesburg had only led to losing him friends, as well as cutting him off from any information as to what was being planned. Even Solly, whom he had treated as well as a brother, hedged when asked about the Reform Committee, although it was evident the man was deeply involved. It was also evident that Cecil Rhodes not only had a finger in the pie, but undoubtedly was up to his elbows in it. “The Transvaal, of course, is not in my province, but I do know some members of the Reform Committee… ”What drek!

Well, maybe it was all talk. Most of the members of the Reform Committee, including his nephew Solly, tended more to talk than to action. At least it was something “devoutly to be wish’d for,” he thought with a faint smile, recalling his Hamlet . He had his own problems with the deepening of the mine shafts in Johannesburg; he’d stop and pick up Armando in Kimberley, borrowing his talents for a while.

He leaned back and watched the scenery.

In the room Barney had just left, Colonel Frank Rhodes was staring down at his seated brother, a frown on his face. “What was Barnato doing here?”

Rhodes laughed. “Apparently our Reform Committee is not as circumspect as it, or they, should be. Barnato seems to sense that there is trouble brewing; his Jew nose is twitching. Two years ago he got Kruger to agree to the extension of the railway to Johannesburg and Pretoria, so now he thinks he knows the old man. It’s his idea that Kruger will bend and, if we wait long enough, maybe break, for all I know. At which point the Reform Committee would have nothing to do but pick up the pieces.” He waved away the matter of Barnato and his dreams with a flick of the wrist. “Don’t pay any attention to Barnato and his hallucinations. He has no idea of what’s really going on. What brings you here, Frank?”

Frank Rhodes seated himself in the chair Barney had been occupying.

“I hate to say it, Cecil, but in one respect I agree with Barnato.”

Rhodes frowned. “I beg your pardon? You think Paul Kruger is going to fold? Give us what we want without a fight?”

“No, no! I don’t mean we should wait to pick up any pieces I don’t think are going to fall from any nonexistent table. What I’m trying to say is that I agree with Barnato that this is not the time to act. We’re simply not ready for it. Jameson is up at Pitsani with fewer than five hundred men, not the fifteen hundred he so blithely promised he could raise, and even that number, in my opinion, would be none too many. Plus a few Bechuanaland Police who are supposed to join him when he leaves — eighty of them, to be exact, rather than the three hundred he was sure would go along — and none of them, by the way, very enthusiastic. And Jameson sending those idiot telegraph messages every five minutes in a code that must be making Kruger laugh himself sick, and you know his sense of humor!”

Rhodes smiled, but he was listening closely. “I’m familiar with Jameson’s telegraph messages; I’ve had a few. But I don’t believe Kruger is aware of what’s going on. If he were he would have done something about it before now. I keep a pretty close eye and ear on Pretoria, and I’m sure I would have heard if Kruger was onto the Reform Committee’s plans.”

“I just hope you’re right.” Frank Rhodes sounded far from convinced. “But let me go on. We have exactly thirty-one rounds of ammunition per rifle in Johannesburg at the moment, and this is supposed to be issued to totally inexperienced men for the most part. And the committee, when they are in full session, fight more with each other than I promise you they ever will against the Boer, unless they get a lot more organized than they are at present! The Americans don’t particularly want the Vierkleur replaced with the Union Jack, and believe it or not, neither do a lot of the British. The lot of them feel they’d simply be replacing Kruger’s taxes with Queen Vic’s taxes and they don’t feel this is worth getting shot for. And the fact is that despite the noise the Reform Committee is making, I believe that nine out of ten of the people we’re asking for support in this so-called spontaneous uprising in Jo’burg don’t give a tinker’s dam for the vote! They want to bring in dynamite free, and cyanide free, and everything else they use they want to bring in free. They don’t care if Kruger is President, or you, or me, or Barney Barnato! They want to make more money, that’s all. And I agree with them, but most of them feel that when these concessions are taken from the Boer, they’ll simply be given to some other one who will gouge their pockets as much as the Boer did!”

Cecil Rhodes’ eyebrows rose. When he spoke his voice was cold.