The covenant - James A. Michener [482]
The most important lesson General de Groot taught Detlev came not from what he said but from what he did. When the English government released the captured Boers who had been interned in distant places like Ceylon, Bermuda and St. Helena, from the latter island came a great hulking man, taller than De Groot, on whose sloping shoulders rested a heavy burden. He was General Pieter Cronje, who in 1900 had surrendered at Paardeberg his entire army of nearly four thousand troops, the most disastrous loss in the war.
A photographer had happened to catch a stunning shot of the surrender, from which an artist working for the Illustrated London News made a most effective sepia wash, which eventually was seen throughout the world, becoming the traditional depiction of Boer-English relationships. There came Cronje, looking six feet seven, in rumpled field trousers, vest, coat and overcoat, bearded, dirty, and wearing a huge broad-brimmed hat. Waiting for him stood little Lord Roberts, one-eyed, one hundred and thirty pounds, bristling mustache, all spit-and-polish boots and leatherwork, jaunty expeditionary cap at a sharp angle. 'The Giant Surrendering to the Midget' the picture was sometimes called.
The copy which General de Groot kept on the wall of his house showed signs of having been spat upon; it was also punctured where the old man had thrown a fork at it. This version was titled 'Cronje Meets His Master,' and when De Groot explained its significance to Detlev he said, 'A man should rather die with six bullets in his belly than face such a moment. Don't ever surrender.'
Detlev was surprised, therefore, when he looked up one morning at the farm and saw the gigantic figure of General Cronje waiting on the stoep. It could be no one else, and when the deep voice rumbled, 'Waar is die generaal?' Detlev replied, 'He lives at the house.' He led Cronje to De Groot's place and was present when the two generals met. They did not embrace in the French manner, but stood respectfully apart, inclining their heads slightly out of mutual respect.
'Come in, Cronje,' De Groot said, ushering him into the sparsely furnished room. 'How was St. Helena?'
'Napoleon died there. I didn't.'
'What happened at Paardeberg?'
The general seated himself uneasily on an upended box and shrugged his shoulders. 'From babyhood we were taught "When you face trouble, go into laager." I faced trouble, Kitchener hammering at me like a madman, Roberts waiting. So I went into laager, but the old rules no longer applied. Not when they had cannon to rim the laager and blow its insides to bits.'
'Now, that's curious,' De Groot said. 'My family lost its life against Mzilikazi because it didn't go into laager. You lost everything because you did.'
'Times change.' He shook his head, then got down to business. 'Paulus, you're living like a pig. Things aren't good for me, either. But we both have a chance to earn a lot of money.'
'How?'
'Have you ever heard of St. Louis? The American city?'
'No.'
'I'm told it's important, bigger than Cape Town.'
'What's it got to do with us?' De Groot asked suspiciously. 'They're having a large World's Fair. Biggest of its kind.'
'Yes?'
'They've seen the drawing of me and Lord Roberts. They've sent a man here, untold funds. He wants me to collect a small commando of Boers who can ride well and shoot from the saddle. Blanks, of course. They'll have American soldiers dressed like Englishmen, and in a big arena you and I will come in riding and shooting. There'll be a mock fight, and then there'll be a tableau.'
'A what?'
'Everybody stops . . . dead still. And the audience sees that it's a representation of my surrender to Lord Roberts.'
De Groot simply sat there, arms folded, legs spread apart, staring at his old companion. Cronje had helped storm Majuba