In a semblance of order along her streets.

The Diggers Committee, its members tired of having to scrape their boots

every time they went indoors, decreed public latrines be erected. Then,

flushed with their own audacity, they built a bridge across the Natal

Spruit, purchased a water cart to lay the dust on the streets of

Johannesburg and passed a law prohibiting burials within half a mile of

the city centre. Sean and Duff as members of the Committee felt it

their duty to demonstrate their faith in the goldfield, so they bought

twenty five plots of ground in Johannesburg, five pounds each to be paid

within six months. Candy recruited all her customers and in one weekend

of frantic effort they razed her Hotel to the ground, packed every plank

and sheet of iron onto their wagons, carried it a mile down the valley

and re-erected it on her own land in the centre of the township. During

the party she gave them on that Sunday night they nearly succeeded in

dismantling it for the second time. Each day the roads from Natal and

the Cape fed more wagons, more men into the Witwatersrand goldfield.

Duff's suggestion that the Diggers Committee levy a guinea a head from

all newcomers to help finance the public works was reluctantly rejected,

the general feeling being that if it led to civil rebellion there were

more newcomers than Committee members and no one fancied being on the

losing side.

One morning, when he came out to the mine, Duff brought a telegram with

him. He handed it to Sean without comment. Sean read it. The

machinery had arrived.

Good God, it's three weeks early. They must have had a downhill sea, or

a following wind or whatever it is that makes ships go faster muttered

Duff.

Have we got enough to pay the bill? asked Sean. No. What are we going

to do? I'll go and see the little man at the bank, He'll throw you out

in the street! I'll get him to give us a loan on the claims! How the

hell are you going to do that, we haven't paid for them yet. That's

what you call financial genius. I'll simply point out to him that

they're worth five times what we bought them for. Duff grinned. Can

you and Curtis carry on here without me for today while I go and arrange

it? You arrange it and I'll happily give you a month's holiday. When

Duff came back that afternoon he carried a paper with him. It had a red

wax seal in the bottom corner, across the top it said Letter of Credit,

and in the middle, standing out boldly from the mass of small print, was

a figure that ended in an impressive string of noughts.

You're a bloody marvel, said Sean.

Yes, I am rather, aren't I! agreed Duff.

The Heyns brothers machinery was on the same ship.

lock and Duff rode down to Port Natal together, hired a hundred wagons

and brought it all back in one load.

I'll tell you what Al do With You, Jock, I'll wager you that we get our

mills producing before you do. Loser pays for the transport on the

whole shipment, Duff challenged him when they reached Johannesburg

where, in Candy's new bar-room, they Were washing the dust out of their

throats. You're on! , I, ll go further, I'll put up a side bet of five

hundred.

Sean prodded Duff in the ribs.

Gently, Duff, we can't afford it. But Jock had already snapped up the

bet.

What do you mean we cane afford it? whispered Duff. We've got nearly

fifteen hundred pounds left on the letter of credit-Sean shook his head.

No, we haven't. Duff pulled the paper from his inside pocket and taPPed

sean's nose with it. There, read for yourself. Sean took it out of

Duff's hand.

Thanks, old chap, I'll go and pay the man now. What man? The man with

the wagons.

What wagons? The wagons that you and Jock hired in Port Natal. I've

bought them. The hell you say! It was your idea to start a transport

business. just as soon as they've offloaded they'll be on their way

again to pick up a shipment of coal from Dundee. Duff grinned at him.

Don't you ever forget an idea? All right, laddie, off you go, we'll

just have to win the bet, that's all. One of the mills they placed on

the Candy Deep, the other on the new claims beyond the Cousin Jock Mine.

They hired two gangs from among the unemployed in Johannesburg. Curtis

supervised one of them and Sean the other, while Duff darted back and

forth keeping an eye on both. Each time he passed the Cousin Jock he

spent a few minutes checking Trevor and Jock's progress. They've got

the edge on us, Sean; their boilers are up and holding pressure already,

he reported fretfully, but the next day he was smiling again. They

didn't mix enough cement in the platform, it started to crumble as soon

as they put the crusher on it.

They'll have to cast it again. That set them back three or four days.

The betting down in the canteens fluctuated sharply with each change of

fortune. Francois came up to the Candy Deep one Saturday afternoon. He

watched them work, made a suggestion or two, then remarked, They're

giving three-to-one against you at the Bright Angels; they, reckon the

Heynses, will be finished by next weekend. Go down and put another five

hundred pounds on for me, Duff told him, and Sean shook his head

despairingly. Don't worry, laddie, we can't lose, that amateur mining

engineer, Jock Heyns, has assembled his crusher jaws all

arse-about-face. I only noticed it this morning he's in for a surprise

when he tries to start up. He'll have to strip the whole damn rig. Duff

was right, they brought both their mills into production a comfortable

fifteen hours before the Heyns brothers. Jock rode over to see them with

his jaw on his chest. Congratulations. Thanks, Jock, did you bring your

cheque book?

That's what I came to talk about. Can you give me a little time? Your

credit's good, Sean assured him, come and have a drink and let me sell

you some cooPAh, yes, I heard your wagons arrived back this morning.

What price are you charging? Fifteen pounds a hundredweight. Good God.

You bloody bandit, I bet it cost you less than five shillings a

hundredweight. A man's entitled to a reasonable profit, protested Sean.

It had been a long hard pull up to the top of the hill but Sean and Duff

had arrived at last and from there it was downhill all the way. The

money poured in.

The geological freak that had bowed the Leader Reef away from the Main

across the Candy Deep claims had, at the same time, enriched it,

injected it full of the metal.

Francois was there one evening when they put the ball of amalgam into

the retort. His eyes bulged as the mercury boiled away; he stared at

the gold the way a mAn watches a naked woman. Gott! I'm going to have

to call you two thunders "Mister from now on. Have you ever seen richer

reef, Francois? Duff gloated.

Francois shook his head slowly. You know my theory about the reef being

the bed of an old lake, well this bears it out. The kink in your reef

must have been a deep trench along the bottom of the lake. It would

have acted as a natural gold trap. Hell, man, what luck. With your

eyes closed you have picked the plum out of the pudding.

The Jack and Whistle is half as rich as this. Their overdraft at the

bank dropped like a barometer in a hurricane; the tradesmen started

greeting them with a smile; they gave Doc Sutherland a cheque which

would have kept even him in whisky for a hundred years. Candy kissed

them both when they paid her out in full, plus interest at seven percent. Then she built herself a new Hotel, double storied, with a

crystal chandelier in the dining-room and a magnificent bedroom suite on

the second floor done out in maroon and gold. Duff and Sean rented it

immediately but with the express understanding that if ever the Queen

visited Johannesburg they would allow her to use it. In anticipation

Candy called it the Victoria Rooms.

Francois, with a little persuasion, agreed to take over the running of

the Candy Deep. He moved his possessions, one chest of clothes and four

chests of patent medicines, across from the Jack and Whistle. Timothy

Curtis was the manager of the mill on the new claims; they named it the

Little Sister Mine. Although not nearly as rich as the Candy Deep it

was producing a sweet fortune each month, for Curtis worked as well as

he fought.

By the end of August Sean and Duff had no more creditors: the claims

were theirs, the mills were theirs and they had money to invest. We

need an office of our own here in town. We can't run this show from our

bedrooms complained Sean. You're right, agreed Duff, we'll build on

that corner plot nearest the market square. The plan was for a modest

little four-room building, but it finally expanded to two stories,

stinkwood floors, oak panelling and twenty rooms. What they couldn't

use they rented. The price of land has trebled in three months, said

Sean, and it's still moving. You're right, now's the time to buy, Duff

agreed. You're starting to think along the right lines, It was your

idea. Was it? Duff looked surprised. Don't you remember your "up

where the eagles fly" speech? Don't you forget anything? asked Duff.

They bought land: one thousand acres at Orange Grove and another

thousand around Hospital Hill. Their transport wagons, now almost four

hundred strong, plied in daily from Port Natal and Lourenqo Marques.

Their brickfields worked twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, to

try to meet the demand for building materials.

It took Sean almost a week to dissuade Duff from building an Opera House

but he succeeded and instead they joined most of the other members of

the Diggers Committee in financing a different type of pleasure palace.

At Duff's suggestion they called it the Opera House. They recruited the

performers not from the great companies of Europe but from the dock

areas of Capetown and Port Natal and chose as the conductor a

Frenchwoman of vast experience named Blue Bessie after the colour of her

hair.

The Opera House provided entertainment on two levels.

For the members of the Committee and the other emergent rich there was a

discreet side entrance, a lavishly furnished lounge where one could buy

the finest champagne and discuss the prices on the Kimberley Stock

Exchange, and beyond the lounge were a series of tastefully decorated

retiring-rooms. For the workers there was a bare corridor to queue in,

no choice for your money and a five-minute time limit. In one month the

Opera House produced more gold than the Jack and Whistle mine.

By December there were millionaires in Johannesburg: Hradsky, the Heyns

brothers, Karl Lochtkamper, Duff Charleywood, Sean Courtney and a dozen

others. They owned the mines, the land, the buildings and the city: the

aristocracy of the Witwatersrand, knighted with money and crowned with

gold.

A week before Christmas, Hradsky, their unacknowledged but undoubted

king, called them all to a meeting in one of the private lounges of

Candy's Hotel. Who the hell does he think he is, complained Jock Heyns,

ordering us round like a bunch of kaffirs. Verdammt Juden! agreed

Lochtkamper.

But they went, every last man of them, for whatever Hradsky did had the

smell of money about it and they could no more resist it than a dog can

resist the smell of a bitch in season.

Duff and Sean were the last to arrive and the room was already hazed

with cigar smoke and tense with expectation. Hradsky sagged in one of

the polished leather armchairs with Max sitting quietly beside him; his

eyes flickeried when Duff walked in but his expression never changed.

When Duff and Sean had found chairs Max stood up. Gentlemen, Mr Hradsky

has invited you here to consider a proposition. They leaned forward

slightly in their chairs and there was a glitter in their eyes like

hounds close upon the fox. From time to time it is necessary for men in

your position to find capital to finance further ventures and to

consolidate past gains, on the other hand those of us who have money

lying idle will be seeking avenues for investment. Max cleared his

throat and looked at them with his sad brown eyes. Up to the present

there has been no meeting-place for these mutual needs such as exists in

the other centres of the financial world. Our nearest approach to it is

the Stock Exchange at Kimberley which, I'm sure you will agree, is too

far removed to be of practical use to us here at Johannesburg. Mr

Hradsky has invited you here to consider the possibility of forming our

own Exchange and, if you accept the idea, to elect a chairman and

governing body. Max sat down and in the silence that followed they took

up the idea, each one fitting it into his scheme of thinking, testing it

with the question How will I benefit? .

Ja, it's darn fine idea. Lochtkamper spoke first. Yes, it's what we

needCount me in. While they schemed and bargained, setting the fees,

the place and the rules, Sean, watched their faces. The faces of bitter

men, happy men quiet ones and big bull-roarers but all with one common

feature, that greedy glitter in the eyes. It was midnight before they

finished.

Max stood upGentlemen, Mr Hradsky would like you to join him in a glass

of champagne to celebrate the formation of our new enterprise. This I

can't believe; the last time he paid for drinks was back in sixty,

declared Duff. Quickly somebody find a waiter before he changes his

mind.

Hradsky hooded his eyes to bide the hatred in them.

With its own Stock Exchange and bordel Johannesburg became a city. Even

Kruger recognized it; he deposed the Diggers Committee and sent in his

own police force, sold monopolies for essential mining supplies to

members of his family and Government, and set about revising his tax

laws with special attention to mining profits. Despite Kruger's efforts

to behead the gold-laying goose, the city grew, and overflowed the

original Government plots and spread brawling and blustering out into

the surrounding veld.

Sean and Duff grew with it. Their way of life changed swiftly; their

visits to the mines fell to a weekly inspection and they left it to

their hired men. A steady river of gold poured down from the ridge to

their offices on Eloff Street, for the men they hired were the best that

money could find.

Their horizons closed in to encompass only the two panelled offices, the

Victoria Rooms and the Exchange.

Yet within that world Sean found a thrill that he had never dreamed

existed. He had been oblivious to it during the first feverish months;

he had been so absorbed in laying the foundations that he could spare no

energy for enjoying or even noticing it.

Then one day he felt the first voluptuous tickle of it.

He had sent to the bank for a land title document he needed, expecting

it to be delivered by a junior clerk but instead the sub-manager and a

senior clerk filed respectfully into his office. It was an exquisite

physical shock and it gave him a new awareness. He noticed the way men

looked at him as he passed them on the street.

He realized suddenly that over fifteen hundred human beings depended on

him for their livelihood.

There was satisfaction in the way a path cleared for him and Duff as

they crossed the floor of the Exchange each morning to take their places

in the reserved leather armchairs of the members lounge. When Duff and

he leaned together and talked quietly before the trading began, even the

other big fish watched them. Hradsky with his fierce eyes hooded by

sleepy lids, Jock and Trevor Heyns, Karl Lochtkamper, any of them would

have given a day's production from their mines to overhear those

conversations.

Buy! said Sean. Buy! Buy! Buy! cUrnoured the pack and the prices

jumped as they hit them, then slumped back as they sucked their money

away and put it to work elsewhere.

Then one March morning in 1886 the thrill became so acute it was almost

an orgasm. Max left the chair at Norman Hradsky's side and crossed the

lounge towards them. He stopped in front of them, lifted his sad eyes

off the patterned carpet and almost apologetically proffered a loose

sheaf of papers. Good morning, Mr Courtney. Good morning, Mr

Charleywood. Mr Hradsky has asked me to bring this new share issue to

your attention. Perhaps you would be interested in these reports, which

are, of course, confidential, but he feels they are worthy of your

support.

You have power when you can force a man who hates you to ask for your

favours. After the first advance by Hradsky they worked together often.

Hradsky never acknowledged their existence by word or look. Each

morning Duff called a cheerful greeting across the full width of the

lounge, Hello, chatterbox, or Sing for us, Norman. Hradsky's eyes would

flicker and he would sag a little lower into his chair, but before the

bell started the day's trading Max would stand up and come across to

them, leaving his master staring into the empty fireplace. A few soft

sentences exchanged and Max would walk back to Hradsky's side.

Their combined fortunes were irresistible: in one wild morning's trading

alone they added another fifty thousand to their store of pounds.

An untaught boy handles his first rifle like a toy. Sean was

twenty-two. The power he held was a more deadly weapon than any rifle,

and much sweeter, more satisfying to use. It was a game at first with

the Witwatersrand as a chessboard, men and gold for pieces. A word or a

signature on a slip of paper would set the gold jingling and the men

scampering. The consequences were remote and all that mattered was the

score, the score chalked up in black figures on a bank statement. Then