Page 19 of Lizzie’s Spirit

“Oh, will they never learn!” exclaimed Elizabeth, who was standing on the quarterdeck with the children and Mrs. Bent. “Do they not know The Rime of the Ancient Mariner—

…

'God save thee, ancient Mariner!

From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—

Why look'st thou so?'—'With my crossbow

I shot the Albatross.

…

And I had done an hellish thing,

And it would work 'em woe:

For all averr'd, I had kill'd the bird

That made the breeze to blow.

Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,

That made the breeze to blow!”

“A sailor’s superstition,” declared Captain Pasco, who came up to them, but nevertheless, he instructed the sailors to cease shooting at the birds.

Perhaps because of this caution, the weather to the Cape was generally moderate, and the run of three thousand eight hundred miles was of shorter duration than expected.

Before their arrival, some ten days out, the climate changed from hot to cold so suddenly as not to allow the passengers time to adopt warmer clothing.

Mrs. Bent took a moderate cold, but Mr. Bent succumbed to pleurisy, to which he was often susceptible.

“Mrs. Bent, you should be in your cot. Please—Hannah and I can see to the children if that’s your concern.

” Elizabeth took the arm of Mrs. Bent, who was trying to walk down the passageway from her cabin.

The roll of the vessel was throwing her against the walls, and she could scarcely make any progress.

“But I must see to the comfort of Mr. Bent,” she complained. “He’s so poorly and pale. He requires some wine and broth.”

“I’ll see to it. You cannot assist him in your condition.

” Elizabeth led Mrs. Bent back to her cabin, which she shared with Mr. Bent.

She lay on her cot, whimpering and very much distressed.

Elizabeth turned to Mr. Bent, who was breathing with great difficulty.

She laid her hand on his forehead—his skin was burning with a high fever.

At that moment, Mrs. Bent’s maid, Hannah, entered the room.

“Mr. Bent is burning up,” said Elizabeth, turning to her. “Please fetch a jug with fresh water and a small towel so I can cool his brow. Mrs. Bent is also poorly but is not fevered.” She looked worriedly to the passageway behind Hannah. “Where are the children?”

“They are well, Miss Bennet; they are playing with little William in the Great Cabin under Mrs. Pasco’s supervision. I’ll fetch the water immediately. Do you also wish for Mr. Arnold to attend to Mr. Bent?”

“There’s little Mr. Arnold can do; he’s a surgeon, not a physician. It’s best if we, you and I, nurse Mr. and Mrs. Bent. Later, I’ll request some thin chicken broth from Cook—they both lack sustenance, but water to cool Mr. Bent is all that is useful for now.”

Thus Elizabeth and Hannah spent their remaining time until the convoy discovered land and they came to anchor in Table Bay on the 23rd of September, a month to the day since leaving Rio.

Fortunately for Elizabeth, who had become excessively weary, none of the regimental wives close to their time delivered their infants, though she had now expanded her ministry to support those women who were ill with the numerous ailments arising in the close quarters of an overmanned vessel, as well those poor few who had the misfortune to miscarry.

Of the latter, she secured for them an extra ration of beef, for they became very pale with the bleeding, and Elizabeth knew from the women cottagers at Longbourn that red meat was the best cure for this condition, in addition to leafy green vegetables, but none of these were available.

Mrs. Bent was fatigued but recovered; Mr. Bent, though still afflicted with numerous aches and pains, was sufficiently well to go ashore the next day.

The town was built on the bay between the sea in front and an immense slab of hard sandstone, Table Mountain, at the back.

Nothing could be finer than the coup d'?il from the bay; yet nothing has so little affinity as the bold perpendicular mountains—bare and rocky—and the low white houses, which from a distance seemed scarcely large enough to hold an ant.

Elizabeth, after the disappointment of the fine view of Funchal from the sea, which bore little resemblance to the actuality of the rough housing therein, knew well that first impressions were not always reliable and determined to learn more of the town once she herself went ashore.

In this, she was well content, for the town was clean and neat in stark contrast to the Portuguese towns of Madeira and Rio de Janeiro; not a single house but presented an extraordinary degree of cleanness and neatness.

She could discover no such thing as a shabby house, and there were no beggars on the streets, which were laid out in an orderly fashion.

Mr. Bent had a letter of introduction to the Colonial Secretary, Mr. Alexander, but as this gentleman’s house stood within the Castle, it was small and unable to accommodate another family.

Although, traditionally, the Dutch of the colony were willing to take strangers into their houses and provide them with lodgings, such was no longer the case.

The English had so much abused and laughed at them for this custom that they now required to be coaxed into it.

“Meneer Brand, goeie gaan dit met u? Ek is Juffrou Bennet.” Elizabeth curtseyed to Meneer Brand, who had graciously agreed to accommodate the Bents. In the Dutch style, he formally shook hands with her. He continued in Afrikaans, the Dutch dialect spoken in the Cape.

“You are Dutch, Miss Bennet, but possibly Flemish. How do you come to travel with the Englishman, Mr. Bent?”

Elizabeth laughed, “Oh no, Meneer, I was taught by an émigré living in Hertfordshire, England—Mynheer Meyers, though he would call himself Flemish rather than Dutch! We spoke Dutch, West Flemish, and German, although he also knew French, Spanish, and Italian. A wonderful gentleman from whom I learnt to admire Dutch culture and traditions.”

He introduced Elizabeth to his wife, a very genteel lady with three young children.

Because they primarily spoke in Dutch, and their English was poor, her facility with their language was a great boon to Mr. and Mrs. Bent as guests of the family.

The children were introduced, and, as with all so young, their lack of shared language did naught to diminish their games, play, and general good cheer.

Mevrouw Brand employed a Khoikhoi girl who acted as a nurse to her children; she was very sweet and shy.

Her care of the children was exemplary, and Elizabeth could assure Mrs. Bent that Henry and Beth would be well looked after.

***

Elizabeth was to attend a ball! This was her very first; she had not been able to attend the assembly in Meryton, which, she acknowledged, was not the same as a private ball with those of high society in attendance.

Meneer Brand took the invitation from a servant at his door and turned to his wife, speaking in Dutch.

“The governor is giving a ball, and we are invited. What a distinction!” He turned to Mr. Bent, switching seamlessly to English. “We have you to thank for this, sir. His Excellency, who, I believe, is an Irish earl, would not honour us otherwise.”

“Nonsense, my dear Brand. You are high in the community. The ball is on Colonel Macquarie’s behalf, as he is of equal rank, and you’ve been of much use to us. I’m sure the governor recognises your service to the British Crown.”

Elizabeth noticed the slight downward turn of Meneer Brand’s mouth.

The annexation of the Cape in ‘06 was still resented by the Dutch.

She knew English replaced Dutch as the language of administration, and the British pound sterling replaced the Dutch rixdollar, which, though still in circulation, fell rapidly in value.

Furthermore, the abolition of the slave trade by Britain in ‘07 contributed to a labour shortage and reduced income for the Boers, the Dutch farmers who settled inland from the Cape.

“Oh, Mevrouw Brand,” she said in Dutch, turning the conversation, “is the ball to be held at Government House? I’m sure it will be enchanting.”

“Yes, indeed, Miss Bennet. The gardens will be lit with lamps, and the walks will be delightful. Have you a gown? I see you wear a practical woollen day dress, which is wise here, as the climate from day to day can vary so widely. But at the ball, there will be much muslin.”

“Dankie, Mevrouw. You’re so thoughtful. My gown’s been packed in my chest for the past five months. I must air it and brush out the creases.”

“Is that necessary, Miss Bennet?” said Mrs. Bent acerbically, having taken the gist of the conversation. “Henry and Beth will require your attention—they are sleeping ill of late.”

“But Mrs. Bent,” Meneer Brand interceded, giving her an ingratiating smile, “Miss Bennet is a guest of my house, and the invitation includes all who reside here. Miss Bennet must attend; otherwise, my neighbours will think my hospitality deficient. She is, as we say in Dutch, een jonkvrouw, a young lady .”

Elizabeth smiled; indeed, she was a gentlewoman—her father was untitled but a landholder—yet she was not a lady in the English sense or in the Low Countries, as the honorific was used there.

Meneer Brand was being subtle in his use of language.

Although Mrs. Bent had married a barrister and was therefore the wife of a gentleman, Elizabeth, being the daughter of a gentleman landholder, would rank at least her equal in society.

She hoped Mrs. Bent would remain oblivious to the implied slight.

***