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It seemed as if the roof might sink in under the weight of them, as if the door might give in under their pressure and these rooms fill with them — and it was getting so dark… she looked up. The air was thinner, gaps of blue showed in the dark moving clouds. The blue spaces were cold and thin: the sun must be setting. Through the fog of insects she saw figures approaching. First old Stephen, marching bravely along, then her husband, drawn and haggard with weariness. Behind them the servants. All were crawling all over with insects. The sound of the gongs had stopped. She could hear nothing but the ceaseless rustle of a myriad of wings.
The two men slapped off the insects and came in. 'Well, said Richard, kissing her on the cheek, 'the main swarm has gone over. 'For the Lord's sake, said Margaret angrily, still half- crying, 'what's here is bad enough, isn't it? For although the evening air was no longer black and thick, but a clear blue, with a pattern of insects whizzing this way and that across it, everything else — trees, buildings, bushes, earth, was gone under the moving brown masses. 'If it doesn't rain in the night and keep them here — if it doesn't rain and weight them down with water, they'll be off in the morning at sunrise. 'We're bound to have some hoppers. But not the main swarm, that<sup>7</sup>s something. Margaret roused herself, wiped her eyes, pretended she had not been crying, and fetched them some supper, for the servants were too exhausted to move. She sent them down to the compound to rest. She served the supper and sat listening. There is not one maize-plant left, she heard. Not one. The men would get the planters out the moment the locusts had gone. They must start all over again. 'But what's the use of that? Margaret wondered, if the whole farm was going to be crawling with hoppers? But she listened while they discussed the new Government pamphlet which said how to defeat the hoppers. You must have men out all the time moving over the farm to watch for movement in the grass. When you find a patch of hoppers, small lively black things, like crickets, then you dig trenches around the patch, or spray them with poison from pumps supplied by the Government. The Government wanted them to cooperate in a world plan for eliminating this plague for ever. You should attack locusts at the source. Hoppers, in short. The men were talking as if they were planning a war, and Margaret listened, amazed. In the night it was quiet, no sign of the settled armies outside, except sometimes a branch snapped, or a tree could be heard crashing down. Margaret slept badly in the bed beside Richard, who was sleeping like the dead, exhausted with the afternoon's fight. In the morning she woke to yellow sunshine lying across the bed, clear sunshine, with an occasional blotch of shadow moving over it. She went to the window. Old Stephen was ahead of her. There he stood outside, gazing down over the bush. And she gazed, astounded — and entranced, much against her will. For it looked as if every tree, every bush, all the earth, were lit with pale flames. The locusts were fanning their wings to free them of the night dews. There was a shimmer of red-tinged gold light everywhere. She went out to join the old man, stepping carefully among the insects. They stood and watched. Overhead the sky was blue, blue and clear. 'Pretty, said old Stephen, with satisfaction. Well, thought Margaret, we may be ruined, we may be bankrupt, but not everyone has seen an army of locusts fanning their wings at dawn. Over the slopes, in the distance, a faint red smear showed in the sky, thickened and spread. "There they go, said old Stephen. 'There goes the main army, off South. And now from the trees, from the earth all round them, the locusts were taking wing. |
