Rough Diamond, page 35
“Mr. President,” Barney said, fighting down the feeling that he was wasting his time with the arguments he was using, “believe me when I tell you I know these people. It would have been a bloodless—a bloodless—”
Kruger smiled humorlessly at the other man’s hesitation.
“A bloodless what, Mr. Barnato? A bloodless revolution? Other than hanging poor old Oom Paul Kruger, and who would worry about that except old Kruger himself, and maybe his family? A bloodless revolution, Mr. Barnato? Was there ever such a thing?” He leaned forward a bit, his jaw hard. “Let me tell you something! They killed twelve of our people, and for that they should all be hanged, not just those four! True, they lost more than that themselves, many more, but they killed twelve innocent Boers—twelve innocent men and boys! Killed! Men and boys who only wanted to be left alone to tend their farms and their flocks and their herds!” Kruger leaned back, his face rigid. “You know these people, you say? I never met them, but I know them better!”
Barney took a deep breath and changed his tactics. “Mr. President, look what you have gained from this affair—”
“Gained?” The bushy eyebrows went up. “Gained what? Twelve dead men and boys? Boer mothers who look to me to protect their husbands and sons, and now come to me crying?”
Barney looked Kruger in the eye. “Cecil Rhodes has resigned as Premier of the Cape because of this fiasco. I know how you feel about Rhodes as well as I know how he has always felt about you. You and he have been enemies for years. He’s a sick man and now, beyond that, he’s finished politically because of this raid. Surely that’s a gain for you. You can afford to be merciful.”
Kruger considered him almost sadly as he slowly shook his head.
“Mr. Barnato, you are a businessman, not a politician or a soldier. Stay with your businesses and leave politics and soldiering to others. The resignation of Cecil Rhodes will not help the Transvaal a bit. Eventually, probably—almost assuredly—it will mean further tension between the Boers and the British. It may in time, in a very short time, lead to war. Rhodes may have resigned because he had no choice after encouraging, even organizing, an attack on a friendly neighbor, but he will never give up his ambitions as long as he breathes. Nor, unfortunately, will England. We are a small people and Britain is a very large empire. The failure of Jameson’s raid will not end anything; most probably it will only begin something.”
He looked at Barney a moment, his forehead wrinkling as he asked the question.
“Tell me something, Mr. Barnato. What is your interest in this? I know you opposed the Reform Committee. I know you were opposed to any action against my government. What is your interest in saving these lives? In saving men like Carl Luckner, for example?”
“Carl Luckner is just a name, one man; he means nothing,” Barney said evenly, “but lives and living mean a great deal. I originally brought John Hays Hammond to this country. I will not see him hanged. Frank Rhodes has many faults, but he is a soldier and he thought he was doing his duty to his country. I cannot see him hanged. Solly Loeb is my nephew, my sister’s son. I will not see him in prison for two years. You are speaking of hanging four men. You are speaking of taking another sixty men and putting them in one of your prisons for two years at hard labor. Some of these men are not strong enough to stand two years in one of your prisons, Mr. President. For them the sentence is also a death sentence. I cannot stand by and see this happen.”
“They should have considered all that when they planned their revolt,” Kruger said coldly. “Our prisons are not meant to be holiday reports; they are meant to punish. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, says the Bible.” He came to his feet, indicating the interview was over. “I believe in the Bible, Mr. Barnato. I believe in the law. So I can only repeat what I said before. There is nothing I can do.”
Barney came to his feet as well. “I do not accept that statement, Mr. President,” he said, now fighting down his anger. “You have the power to commute those insane sentences, and we both know it. Well, I have power, too. If you do not commute those sentences within the next two weeks—and I mean no hangings, no prison with or without hard labor, no banishment, but any reasonable fine you wish—I will shut down every property I own or control in the entire Transvaal! I will put out of work over twenty thousand white men and over one hundred thousand Kaffirs! Your economy will lose the fifty thousand pounds my companies spend in your republic every week; you will lose the taxes I pay that keep your republic running! D’you want to ruin your precious republic just for the satisfaction of getting revenge on a bunch of fools?”
Kruger’s usually ruddy face whitened. “Mr. Barnato, sir, are you threatening me?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President. I’m threatening the existence of the entire Transvaal and its economy. I’m threatening what you have worked for all your life. And it’s a threat I can carry out. If you doubt me, read the newspapers tomorrow morning!”
He snatched up his hat and stormed from the room, not taking the time for the usual amenities with the President of the Republic. Kruger stared after him, trying his best not to let the anger that swept him either voice itself or affect his judgment. He was, after all, the President of a country, and he should be above anger. But it was difficult, for he knew Barney Barnato well enough to realize the man’s threat had not been an idle one. And without the revenues from the Barnato properties, the Transvaal would, indeed, suffer. He sighed. It was a decision that would have to be taken to the Executive Committee, although he knew in the long run the decision would have to be his. What would Abraham have done? What would Isaac have done… ?
Barney Barnato, followed by all the newspaper reporters in Johannesburg that he had been able to contact, began putting up the notices of the closing of the mines and his other properties himself that very night. One of the reporters, John Ryan of the Rand Daily Mail and an old acquaintance, paused in his scribbling to trot alongside Barney as Barney climbed into his trap and prepared to move on to his next objective. Ryan put his hand on the horse’s bridle, preventing it from moving, and dropped his voice, not wishing to share any information he might be able to garner.
“Come on, Barney! Be a pal. What’s this promotion really all about?”
Barney stared down at the man. “Johnny, didn’t you hear what I said to all the boys before?”
“I heard it, but who gives up a fortune just to stop a few men from going to prison? The chances are that Kruger isn’t going to hang the four. There’d be too much noise around the world if he did. He’s just giving them a skrik, a fright. Then he’ll give them prison sentences like the others. And who’s going to close all his mines and other businesses to save men from doing a few years in quod, especially men he was in open disagreement with? Men who weren’t particularly his friends? Men who, in many countries, would probably have been shot for what they did, instead of getting off with a mere two years on the rock pile? Who would throw away a fortune for them?”
“I would, that’s who. Now, let the horse go.”
“Look, Barney, I know you too well—”
“Let the horse go, or you’ll get the whip!”
The reporter released the horse but stepped up into the trap next to Barney. Barney hesitated a moment and then reluctantly slid to one side, letting Ryan enter the vehicle, rather than waste any more time. There was a chorus of complaining yells from the other reporters, but Ryan waved them away. Barney shook the reins, putting the trap in motion.
“Now, look, Barney,” Ryan said, trying to sound reasonable, “there’s a story in this, and you know me well enough to know I’ve got to get it. Why these notices you’re posting? And give me the real reason, this time. It’s not to save Carl Luckner’s hide, I’m sure.”
Barney spoke without looking at the man. “How about saving my sister’s son, Solly Loeb, from two years at hard labor in one of Kruger’s hell-hole prisons?”
The reporter looked at him in utter disbelief. “To save Solly Loeb? I should have thought you’d have paid to have him put away! I’ve wondered for the past year why you didn’t, but I figured you knew your business. Now I’m beginning to wonder.”
Barney frowned. He turned to stare at the man. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ryan still could not believe it. “You mean you don’t know?”
“Know what?” Barney was beginning to lose his temper. “Look, Johnny, start talking before I toss you out of the rig! Know what?”
“Know that your precious Solly Loeb has been cheating you for a long, long time!”
“What!” Barney’s hand jerked at the reins; the horse skittered and then recovered. Barney glared at Ryan. “You’re a liar!”
Johnny Ryan sighed. “Barney, reporters don’t lie. They may exaggerate, sometimes, but they don’t lie. And in any event, this isn’t even an exaggeration. You know, Barney, you’re a bright guy and I like you, but sometimes you’re a damn fool. You can’t see what’s under your nose, and most people are afraid to tell you. I know you’re a busy man, what with the new playhouse you’re building, and the improvements in the racecourse, and everything else you’re involved in, but it wouldn’t hurt you to pay some attention to your business every now and then.”
“What are you talking about?”
“For example,” Ryan said, quite as if Barney had not interrupted him, “have you heard of a new company in Jo’burg? The Reef Investment Company? A little over a year old. And going strong.”
“I’ve heard of it, of course. They’re competitors. Tough competitors, Solly tells me.”
Ryan snorted. “Solly tells you, does he? Well, he should know: he owns it.”
“What!”
“That’s right. Lock, stock, and barrel. He’s taken a good number of Barnato investors along with him to Reef—all the while running Barnato. Running it into the ground, that is. I thought at first it was a ploy of yours, but I’ve done some checking around. You’re just the innocent babe in the woods, waiting for the robins to come along and cover you with leaves.”
Barney pulled up the reins; the horse obediently stopped. Barney considered Ryan with dangerous quiet. “I don’t believe you.”
“Then you’re the only one in town who doesn’t. They’ve been laughing at you, Barney. One half the town’s been laughing at you. The other half has been praying you’d be taken down a peg or two. They resent you not taking a part in this revolt thing. They resent your success. They resent your money. They resent your being a Jew. They resent your friendship with Kruger, who they hate like poison. Maybe I’m foolish for telling you all this, but it’s high time somebody did. You’re throwing away a fortune, if what you told the boys is true, for men who don’t deserve it.”
“Then I guess I’m going to throw it away,” Barney said without expression, and whipped the horse up again. “Reach behind you for another poster, Johnny. We’ll be at the Primrose shaft in a few minutes.”
The reporter stared at him a moment. Barney returned the stare imperturbably. Johnny Ryan sighed and then, with a shrug of nonunderstanding, reached behind the seat for another notice of closure. One thing he knew, though: whether Barney Barnato was being a damned fool or not, it was going to be one hell of a story.
Paul Kruger had donned his most formal dress; across his barrel chest ran a new and lustrous blue-green silk sash of office, and although he was seated indoors on his favorite chair in the front sitting room of his home, a new tophat graced his large head, quite as if he were presiding over the Volksraad. Barney, shown into the presidential presence, stood almost at attention before the impressive-looking man.
“You sent for me, Mr. President?”
Kruger waited until his aide had withdrawn, closing the door behind him, and then looked at Barney. His hands, bent arthritically around the curved lions’ heads at the end of the chair’s arms, were clenched about the ornate wood tightly; there was the pain of defeat in his old eyes.
“Mr. Barnato, I have asked you here to give you the decision of the Executive Committee of the Volksraad. It is a decision made with mercy. The sentences of those involved in the attempt to overthrow the Transvaal Republic have been commuted. The four ringleaders, upon payment of a proper fine, will be freed and deported, banished for life from the Transvaal. There can be no discussion on this point. The sixty other men involved in the so-called Reform Committee will be freed upon payment of a proper fine, but not deported nor banished from the Transvaal.”
No muscle moved in Barney’s face at this triumph. “Thank you, Mr. President.”
“In return, I expect the notices of closure on your properties will be removed.”
“By nightfall, Mr. President.” He hesitated as Kruger remained silent. “Is there anything else, Mr. President?”
“Yes. One thing.” There was a moment’s silence before Kruger continued. When he did there was a touch of sadness in his voice, but the rigid hardness of steel as well. “You will not be welcome in this house again, Mr. Barnato.”
“I’m sorry to hear it, Mr. President.” It was an unfortunate thing, Barney knew, but he could understand it. He wondered if, under the same circumstances, he could have voiced the same dictum with the same composure. He bent his head a fraction and this time, in deference to the old man sitting there so majestically, while at the same time so helplessly defeated, Barney Barnato slowly backed from the room, his head remaining bent in recognition of having been in the presence of a great man, a man he had been privileged to know as a friend, a man he had bested for others who were, in effect, far more his enemies than the old man sitting so rigidly in the gloom of the rococo room.
“England,” Barney said to Fay with a broad smile, and patted her growing stomach affectionately. “You’ll have Jason, or Michelle, or whoever, there. Would you like that? A proper doctor, with proper nurses, in a proper hospital if you want—everything proper and the best for our second kind. What d’you say?”
Fay smiled at him a bit mischievously. “Kinder, most likely. What if I have two Jasons, or two Michelles? I’m getting awfully big, you know. Could they handle that in England?”
Barney waved the question away majestically. “Lydy, us’ns can ‘andle anythin’ in ol’ Lunnon Town! Bybies er men folk. Er women folk, fer all o’ that.” He dropped the atrocious and nearly forgotten accent and grinned at Fay. “We’ll be able to see Harry and his family again, and my folks who are still alive, thank God, and I’ll show Leah the King of Prussia where her uncle Harry was a bouncer and her daddy used to do his first juggling act, and I’ll stand her a ginger beer and you a regular beer just for putting up with me all these years—if the King is still there, of course. How would you like that?”
“If that’s what you want, darling—” She saw some of the joy leave his face and added swiftly, softly, “It’s what I want, too, darling. When I say I want what you want, it isn’t just to make a concession to you. It’s because what pleases you pleases me. And going to England again will please both of us. Besides,” she added, as if to put a touch of logic into the discussion, “Leah Primrose should meet her cousins, get to know her family. I love the idea. When do we leave?”
“In a month. I’ve booked us passage on the Scott; it’s an all-steam ship,” Barney said, spirits restored. God, after all the years one word from Fay could still raise him to heaven or devastate him! “We can stop on the way to the Cape and spend a few days in Kimberley, see old friends, look in on the Paris Hotel, drop by Dutoitspan, remember when and where we first met.” He looked at Fay, serious now. “D’you remember those days?”
She reached for him, taking his hand, squeezing it tightly.
“They’re rather hard to forget, darling. I sat in that tent with my pa, cutting cloth for miners’ pants, basting for Pa to sew, wondering what on earth I’d done on the trail to keep you away from me, to make you forget me so soon, or to want to forget me.”
“And I went from sorting shed to sorting shed with old Rhodes, wondering how on earth I could get up the nerve to tell you that a nobody like me was in love with a beautiful girl like you—”
Fay smiled. “You mean, in love with a beautiful, rich, well-dressed”—her smile faltered a bit at the memory—”shy, silly, terribly frightened girl like me, with ugly hands.” She looked down at her hands and then pulled Barney to her, holding him tightly. “Oh, Barney, we’ve been so lucky!”
“We’ll always be lucky,” Barney said, and meant it. He paused as there was a discreet tap on the open door; a servant was there, waiting for their attention. “Yes?”
“Your nephew is here.”
Fay looked at him questioningly. “Solly? For dinner?”
“No, just for a few minutes. I asked him to drop in before dinner. He’ll be coming to England with us.” He turned to the servant. “In the living room.”
“Oh?” Fay said. “That’s nice. I’ll have some tea made.”
“I think he may prefer whiskey tonight,” Barney said enigmatically, and walked into the living room, forming the words in his mind he intended to use, although he had considered them in detail for some time. When Solly appeared, debonair as usual, Barney nodded to him pleasantly and walked over, shutting the door. Solly sat down in an easy chair and brought out a large cigar, lighting it, leaning back comfortably.
“You wanted to see me, Barney?”
“Yes.” Barney sat down opposite him. “I’m going to England, taking Fay and Leah Primrose with me. I thought it would be good for Fay to have the baby there with decent care and everything. And it’s about time for Leah to meet her family, anyway.”
