Eagle’S Cry

By Liz Godwin

When Johanna van Zweel meets William the first day of January in 1900, she doesnt intend to fall in love and certainly not with an Australian. A foreigner, an uitlander, William and his mate Eddie have come to South Africa seeking to make their fortunes in gold.

With her parents away observing the Commando Law in the Orange Free State, Johanna is tasked with ensuring Eagles Nest, the family farm in Barberton, runs smoothly and efficiently to support her brothers and sisters, each of whom is a player in the arena of a cruel war. She sees that her active duty in the war effort is to keep the farm running to provide food and horses for the commandos. She is determined to save her homeland and her kin from the imperial onslaught. William, on the other hand, pledges allegiance to the British Empire.

Set in the tumultuous years of 1899 to 1902 in South Africa, this romance between Johanna and William, both on different sides of a great conflict, charts their personal, military, and political challenges. The desperate passion of Johanna and William seems an impossibility. Can their love survive as everything they believe in forces them apart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491754535

Liz Godwin

Liz Godwin was born in Port Elizabeth, South Africa. She moved with her family to what is now Zimbabwe and was educated at Roosevelt High School in Harare. She obtained a degree at Rhodes University. Godwin and her husband, Robert, now live in Jacksonville, Texas.

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Eagle’s

Cry

Liz Godwin

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EAGLE’S CRY

Copyright © 2015 Liz Godwin.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Certain characters in this work are historical figures, and certain events portrayed did take place. However, this is a work of fiction. All of the other characters, names, and events as well as all places, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4917-6771-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-5453-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015908202

iUniverse rev. date: 06/11/2015

Contents

Chapter 1 New Beginnings – New Year’s Day 1900

Chapter 2 Morning Ride – January 1900

Chapter 3 Eagle’s Nest – January 1900

Chapter 4 Barberton – January 1900

Chapter 5 Engela

Chapter 6 Shadows from the Past

Chapter 7 Oupa

Chapter 8 The Meeting

Chapter 9 Getting to Know You

Chapter 10 Eddie Meets Ouma

Chapter 11 Ouma’s Story

Chapter 12 Disaster

Chapter 13 The Picnic

Chapter 14 Relief of Kimberley and the Battle of Paardeburg

Chapter 15 Thinking about the War

Chapter 16 Death of a Giant – 27 March 1900

Chapter 17 The Kruger Millions

Chapter 18 Pretoria – June 1900

Chapter 19 Fraternizing with the Enemy

Chapter 20 Visit from Riaan

Chapter 21 Setting Up the Camp

Chapter 22 Burgher Camp – July 1900

Chapter 23 Battle of Bergendal, 26–27 August 1900

Chapter 24 Letter from Nikki

Chapter 25 New Year 1901

Chapter 26 Back to the Real World

Chapter 27 After the Storm – January 1901

Chapter 28 Inside the Regent’s Palace – January 1901

Chapter 29 End of an Era – 22 January 1901

Chapter 30 French’s Drive, 27 January – 26 March 1901

Chapter 31 William

Chapter 32 Rescuing Engela – October 1901

Chapter 33 Ways and Means – October 1901

Chapter 34 Escape

Chapter 35 New Year 1902

Chapter 36 Star-Crossed Lovers – January 1902

Chapter 37 Rozalind

Chapter 38 Choices – March 1902

Chapter 39 Easter Sunday – March 1902

Chapter 40 Aftermath

This book is dedicated to my grandparents.

Shortly before his death on 14 July 1904, President Paul Kruger wrote to the Boers, Look in the past for all that is good and beautiful, take that for your ideal and build on it your future.

Acknowledgements

Carol Huxley, Rae Nash, Hans Bornmann, Sally Hanners, Louis Smith, and Melanie Groening all read the drafts of this book and made helpful and constructive comments. Elizabeth Howard was very generous with her time and spent many hours with me working on the text. Her comments were always sensible as well as creative and imaginative. I benefitted greatly from comments on specific chapters, especially those offered by Craig Parker, Jim and Patricia Barr, Charles Perrings, and Melanie Groening. Lindsay Stansberry gave her expertise, which is greatly appreciated. Thank you to my daughter Joannie for the picture of the eagle and the picture on the front cover. Thank you also to Wayne Yeargain for the map of South Africa. Grateful thanks to Carol and Stewart Huxley, who introduced me to Yorkshire and the city of York. Many thanks to my family for their love and encouragement: to Joannie, David, Nancy, Catherine, and Allison – and especially to my husband, Rob, who supported me in many ways. Walking with me every step of the way have been a magnificent trio, Thomas Packenham, Byron Farwell, and Rayne Kruger, who provided the structure of this story.

Preface

South Africa in 1899 was made up of two Boer republics, the Transvaal and the Orange Free State, and two British protectorates, the Cape and Natal. The Boer republic of the Transvaal had been nearly bankrupt when gold was discovered there. A gold rush ensued, and many British adventurers travelled to the Transvaal to make their fortunes. They were not welcomed by Paul Kruger, the president, or by his fellow Boers, and were labelled uitlanders, or foreigners. Discord surfaced. The uitlanders complained that Kruger’s government was corrupt and that it denied the uitlanders the rights of citizens. The British decided to intervene, supposedly to protect their fellow countrymen from President Kruger’s determination to maintain the independence of the Transvaal. War broke out. Great men like Piet Joubert, Louis Botha, Koos de la Rey, Christiaan de Wet, and Jan Smuts fought on the side of the republics against the British generals of the day, Sir Redvers Buller, Lord Roberts, Lord Kitchener, Lord Methuen, and Sir George White, to name a few. We South Africans feel the legacy of their actions even today.

Understanding our roots, you could say, is one of the greatest gifts we can be given. Who we are and why we are who we are both have a link to our pride and feelings of self-worth, personal and national, and this is linked to a sense of history. We need to hear the stories of our heroes, and create our own stories.

Glossary of Dutch/Afrikaans Words and Abbreviations

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Chapter 1

New Beginnings – New Year’s Day 1900

Who are you? I asked.

I had been lying on the kopje behind the house in the predawn darkness. I felt part of something great, something primal, something created from the ancient Makhonjwa Mountains behind me and sparked into life by the huge stars above – diamond-bright, enduring, and eternal – in the black velvet sky. To be young and strong and alive at the cusp of the twentieth century, and to be me, Johanna, custodian of Eagle’s Nest, my family home in Barberton, South Africa – life could hold no greater joy.

The silence of the night gave way to the chirp of a cricket, the explosive rush of melodious song from the robin, the wirry-wirry-wirrrr of the black cuckoo, and the grumpy kwe-kwe of a frog. The dawn chorus was in full voice: deafening, vital, exciting, a shrill precursor of the new century. This new day meant new triumphs for our people in our fight for independence from the vengeful British Empire.

The sharp crack of a twig had startled me, and then the purposeful tread of heavy boots brought me to my feet. As I stood, the sun crested the craggy mountain and poured its golden light on a stranger in midstride a few steps in front of me.

And g’day to you, too! I’m William, he said.

His voice was beautiful and clear, with a light timbre and a distinct accent. It was not the north-country echo that laced my ouma’s English – or Afrikaans, for that matter – as she was fluent in both languages. It was a different sound, yet still musical. William and I stood, locked in an enchanted moment as we gazed at each other across the stony path on the kopje, two strangers who somehow were strangers no longer.

William’s merry hazel eyes met mine. He swept off his slouch hat with a graceful bow. In that wild moment, my heart sang. I knew I had met my one true love.

And who are you, may I ask? he asked me.

Johanna, I replied.

The sun climbed the heavens and shed its light over the kopje, highlighting the dew on the brown stubble around us and banishing the night’s shadows. The silence between us lengthened as we stood, foolishly gazing at each other.

With an effort, I shook free of the trance-like state I was in and asked, So, what part of the Transvaal are you from?

William laughed. No! I’m not from the Transvaal at all, or even Africa. I’m from Australia. My mate Eddie and I came here to make our fortunes in gold.

My heart sank. This beautiful creature, born of the dawn, was one of the uitlanders whom we had been hearing so much about, foreigners who had come to Johannesburg to make their fortunes in the recently discovered gold mines. Now they were demanding voting rights. This, our president, Paul Kruger, vowed they would never get. The huge influx of adventurers – wild, godless, drunken men – now outnumbered Kruger’s followers. William himself, of course, did not look wild or drunken or godless, but then appearances weren’t everything, I warned myself. Oom Paul saw the threat the uitlanders posed. They might drive him from office and destroy his republic and people.

What are you doing in Barberton? I asked, moving to my favourite rock on the hilltop and arranging my long, green skirt around my legs.

William slouched casually against a rock opposite me, moving his shoulders until he found a comfortable spot, his arms folded and one leg crossed carelessly over the other. He looked down at me with a friendly smile. Eddie and I thought we’d get out of Johannesburg. We worked on the mines there for a while and made a bit of money, but it’s not the life for us. Johannesburg is the worst city in the world – lots of violence and crime. We heard there was still gold mining going on in Barberton, so we thought we’d try our luck as diggers here.

I stared at him. Up to this moment, I had a hostile attitude towards uitlanders. Yet here was this attractive young man talking about his motives as if there was nothing amiss, as if it was the most natural thing to wander around, discover life and the world, accept or reject certain aspects, and look for wealth and a livelihood. On the heels of that thought came another: wasn’t that exactly what my four brothers were doing – Riaan in the state attorney’s office; Jan-Daniel as a journalist; and Pieter and Nikki on the great adventure with my parents in the Orange Free State?

I think I must have been glaring rather rudely at my new companion, because he looked back at me quizzically, his brow raised as his eyes met mine. My heart raced, and I felt myself blush. Those eyes!

Enough about me, he said. What about you? What are you doing up here so early?

Somehow, I had no problem sharing my secret thoughts, my innermost philosophy, with him. I always get up early. Dawn is the best time of the day, with the promise of the day lying ahead. I get a thrilling sense of anticipation and excitement. And besides all that, how could I stay in the valley today, the first day of a new century?

William’s eyes were suddenly intent, fixed on mine. I know just what you mean. It’s as if heaven and earth are a bit closer for a moment.

He stepped away from the rock and held out his hand. I put mine into his. As we touched, a feeling of delight surged through my whole body. He slowly drew me up until we stood face-to-face. It was very quiet. The air was clear and fine; we were in for another hot day. William and I moved closer to each other, our eyes locking. I felt breathless; my heart was racing. Why did I feel he and I were the only two people in the world?

Just then an eagle’s cry rent the air and broke the spell. Startled, we gazed up into the sky to see the eagle arrowing out of the blue nothingness, talons extended. Then it turned and disappeared behind a tree.

William drew his breath in sharply. How magnificent, he said, awe in his voice.

He’s a familiar sight, I told him. His eyrie is high up in that mountain behind us.

It’s so beautiful here, said William.

So beautiful, I agreed. The mountains and the valley.

Is that a house up there? he asked, pointing to where a homestead showed through the trees.

Yes, that’s Eagle’s Nest. And I’d better be getting home, I said.

Home?

My farm, Eagle’s Nest.

Will I see you again? William called after me as I walked away.

I go for a gallop at dawn every day, I called back, my heart beating faster at the thought of seeing him again. I think I knew even then that there was little hope of a future with an uitlander, as my heart warred with my head. This will never work, I told myself. Forget it, Johanna. Forget it and forget him.

Chapter 2

Morning Ride – January 1900

I awoke with a smile and a delicious feeling of well-being. After hastily dressing, I rushed to the stables and saddled my horse, Dancer. I’d always been an early riser and cherished my morning ride. No one was ever around at this time, before the worries of the busy day intruded.

Dancer and I set off down the steep, rutted driveway and moved onto the broad road that led towards the prison farm. The tawny veldt, a wide, grassy plain, stretched away to the escarpment in the distance. As I cantered along, I heard flying hooves behind me. I looked back, and there was William, mounted on an enormous grey that dwarfed my little pony. I urged Dancer to a gallop, and we flew together down the wide stretch of grass. When I finally drew rein and William and I stopped together, side by side, I looked up into his hazel eyes. I was panting from the race, and my heart was pounding. I felt hot colour suffuse my cheeks. William reached over and grasped Dancer’s bridle.

Now I’ve got you. You’ll never get away from me. Never, ever. Don’t even try, he said.

That sounds very much like a challenge. I laughed in an attempt to still the clamour of my heart. And a crazy one at that. William, we don’t even know each other.

Even as I said the words, I knew they were not true. William, so different, so desirable, was my soulmate.

I know you are the girl for me, William answered.

He smiled down at me, his hazel eyes bright and sparkling.

Yes, I wanted to shout, yes, as my heart somersaulted in my breast; yes, and you are the man for me. William, I am yours, now and forever!

He must have sensed something of my passion because his expression changed. He regarded me intently. Before I gave myself away completely, I thought, it was time to change the mood.

Is that your own horse? She’s a beauty, I said.

She is that. Blue, my lovely, meet Miss Johanna van Zweel! Blue shuffled her feet and nodded her head in a delightful way. She was a lively mare, spirited and sure-footed.

And how do you know my name?

It isn’t hard to uncover the secrets of a small town if you know how to go about it! And when I asked the identity of a green-eyed beauty called Johanna, whose hair is long and as black as a bird’s wing, I soon tracked you down.

My heart beat faster and faster as he spoke. Stop this, I mentally chided myself. We dismounted and sat under a tree on the grassy verge of the track and fell into conversation. I learned that he grew up on a ranch in New South Wales. Both he and his mate were only-children, he told me. How sad, I thought. Eagle’s Nest and my family were everything to me. I couldn’t imagine leaving them and going to the other end of the world. Perhaps if one didn’t have brothers and sisters, it was easy to leave.

William had brought Blue from home. He told me heart-rending stories of the voyage over. The horses, used to almost unlimited freedom on the huge properties, had struggled to adjust to the narrow stalls and the constant motion of the ship. When they arrived in South Africa, William and Eddie had to spend weeks acclimatizing the poor beasts to their new surroundings and getting them strong again before they set off for the gold fields. The two men quickly entered into the rough and riotous life of the gold rush but then, just as quickly, looked for an alternative, which is how they ended up in Barberton.

What about your parents? I asked him.

Killed in a bush fire on our property when I was about twelve. I was staying with my grandfather at the time or I would probably have died, too.

I drew in my breath in quick sympathy. William looked at me.

It was crook, you know, really bad, he said. But then I went to live with my grandfather permanently. He was the best companion in the world. After he died, I left to explore the world. What about your parents?

Ma and Pa have gone on commando.

And what does that mean, to go on commando?

My pa obeyed the Commando Law that calls the burghers – citizens, you know, farmers – up for active service. We don’t have a standing army here in the Boer republics of the Transvaal and the Orange Free State.

William nodded his head. That is a very different system from what we have in Australia, he said. So your parents left when the war broke out last October?

Yes. Every burgher between sixteen and sixty must present himself with a horse, saddle and bridle, a rifle and thirty cartridges, and provisions for eight days – and be ready for active service.

Eight days’ food, eh! That could be a heavy burden. Just carrying my billy and bangers is enough for me.

It was my turn. Billy and bangers? I ventured.

A billycan for boiling water over an open fire for a cuppa. And bangers – you’re joshing, right? Everyone knows a banger is a sausage.

All the commandos take is dried meat or sausage, what we call biltong, and Boer biscuits – made of flour and raisins …

I got it, William broke in. Like damper – we mix flour and water and cook it in hot ashes.

"Oupa fries his in boiling fat. He calls them maagbommen, stomach bombs."

William gave a shout of laughter. Oh my. I can imagine.

Yes, well, I said. "So my pa got ready to go, but my ma wouldn’t let him go without her. She was determined to join her family, the Cronjes, in