The train was steaming over Mombasa Island, and Mr. David Halliday,
ejaculating "Now we're off!" settled himself in his corner and
comfortably fell asleep. Age has its weaknesses--or its privileges,
according as you look at it. Not that Mr. Halliday was aged, or even
old. He was nearly fifty, and might have passed for younger. His son,
at any rate, was neither old nor sleepy. He was, in fact, but a few
months past his seventeenth year; and being possessed of an average
curiosity and a healthy interest in novel scenes, he looked with delight
on the groves of lofty cocoa-nut palms, the wide-spreading mangoes and
baobabs filled with chattering monkeys, and the long stretches of
park-like glades, brilliant with flowers, through which runs the Uganda
railway in the first stage of its long course to the shores of Victoria
Nyanza.
Mr. Halliday, son of a Scots farmer who had emigrated from Ayrshire
thirty years before, had been for many years agent--or "factor," as he,
being a Scotsman, preferred to call himself--on the estates of Lord
Sussex, who, as everybody knows, owns half the county from which his
title is derived. He had managed to save some money during his
stewardship, but having entrusted the greater part of it for investment
to a bland London solicitor of his acquaintance, he had the misfortune
to learn one day from the newspaper that the lawyer had absconded,
leaving defalcations to the tune of some L50,000. A few weeks
afterwards another calamity befell Mr. Halliday. His employer, a
bachelor, died; the estates passed into the hands of a distant relative;
and the new peer, taking alarm at the large sums demanded of him in the
shape of death duties, announced his intention of cutting down expenses,
and employing a younger man to steward his estates, at a lower salary.
Luckily Mr. Halliday had a thousand or two safely invested, apart from
what he had lost through the lawyer's rascality; and being disinclined,
at his time of life, to seek similar employment, he cast about, during
his six months' notice of the termination of his engagement, to find
some new outlet for his energies and some secure channel for the use of
his little capital.
The problem was complicated by the necessity of starting his son in
life. He had intended David for one of the professions, and put him to
a good school; but the boy had not shown any particular aptitude for
book work, except in the one subject that interested him--natural
history. He was never so happy as when he was with dogs and horses; he
read with avidity every book about animals on which he could lay hands;
and once, when his career was being talked about, he said bluntly that
he knew he couldn't stand work at a desk in stuffy London, and implored
his father to let him go out to Canada or Australia. Mr. Halliday
merely grunted at the time; he was a man of few words; but he thought
the matter out very carefully, and his attention having been called to
the opening up of East Africa consequent upon the completion of the
Uganda railway, he quietly made inquiries, obtained information about
the country, its climate, soil, and prospects in regard to
stock-raising, and one day startled his son with the news that he was
going out in a few months to settle. Having once made up his mind he
let no grass grow under his feet. One May day father and son left
London in a Peninsular and Oriental Liner, transhipped at Aden into a
vessel of the British India Steam Navigation Company, landed at Mombasa,
and after spending a fortnight there in preliminary preparations, took
tickets for Nairobi, three hundred and thirty miles down the line,
whence they proposed to strike up country and select the ground for
their settlement.
They travelled by the intermediate class--the third of the four classes
into which passengers on the Uganda railway are divided. Mr. Halliday,
as he said, had not come out to Africa for the fun of it and having
spent considerably over L100 already in travelling expenses, he was not
inclined to spend more was absolutely necessary now. By travelling
intermediate, unusual though it was, they saved nearly a hundred rupees
(the currency of British East Africa) on the first-class fare, and
twenty-five on the second, and every rupee they could save would be of
importance when they came to stock their ranch. "And I haven't taken
return tickets, John," said Mr. Halliday.
Since the boy had been named David after his father, and had no other
name, it is necessary to explain how he came to be called John. At
school, his name being David, on the principle of association of ideas
he was immediately dubbed Jonathan, though he might just as reasonably
have been called Saul. Jonathan being too long was cut down to Johnny,
and finally to John; and when one of his school-fellows, on a visit in
the holidays, addressed him by this simple monosyllable, the name was
laughingly accepted by his parents as an excellent means of
distinguishing between the two Davids. People who knew him only as John
were puzzled when he signed himself "D. Halliday," and one
matter-of-fact lady was not quite pleased when he said gravely that,
Prince Edward being known in the family circle as David, it was only
right that David Halliday should be known as John. "I am glad I am not
your godmother," she replied grimly.
John, then, as we, like all his intimates, will call him, smiled
affectionately when he saw his father settle himself to slumber, and
devoted his own very wide-awake eyes to the scenery. It was a feast for
the senses and the imagination. The train, leaving Mombasa island for
the mainland, runs through a tract of undulating richly-wooded country,
with, here, groves of cocoa-nut palms and papaws; there, orchards of
mangoes and cashew apples; anon, vast plantations of maize and millet
and other grain crops. There is plenty of time to take in the details
of this luxuriant panorama, for the train is climbing, climbing always,
and the traveller is not whirled along at the bewildering speed of an
English express. Leaning out of the window, and looking back over the
route, John catches a last glimpse of the sea at Port Reitz, guarded by
the Shimba hills, and realizes that a new chapter in his life is
opening, full of romantic possibilities.
"A verree fine country, sir," says a thin staccato voice behind, and
turning, he is smiled upon by a swarthy face, with black moustache and
beard that have never known a razor, and surmounted by a spotless white
turban.
"Magnificent," replies John, eyeing his fellow-passenger curiously.
"But this is not the best," says the man again. "We shall see, in due
time, scenes of still more prepossessing appearance, together with
myriads of four-footed beasts, et cetera."
"Indeed," says John, a trifle amused.
"Yes, sir. When we come to Tsavo we may behold lions, truly denominated
the king of beasts, but no longer monarchs of all they survey, as
William Cowper beautifully and poetically says. Man, sir, plays the
very dickens with Nature; the surveyor molests the ancient solitary
reign of Mr. Lion; he has to take a back seat."
John was quite unaccustomed to conversation interlarded with quotations
from what he had at school irreverently called "rep.," and wondering
what manner of man he had to do with he hazarded an indirect question.
"You seem to have read some of our poets," he said.
"Yes, sir, I am familiar with the masterpieces of English literature,
edited with notes. My name, sir, is Said Mohammed, failed B.A. of
Calcutta University."
"Failed B.A.?" said John, puzzled. He had met B.A.'s of several
universities, and even junior masters who called themselves Inter. B.A.
Lond. (honours); but a failed B.A. was a new species.
"Yes, sir; the honourable examiners formed a less elevated estimate of
my intellectual attainments than was reasonably anticipated, and when
the list was published, lo! my name was conspicuous by its absence. But
that is a bagatelle. The honorific distinction--what is it but the
guinea stamp? It is work, sir, that ennobles. I have accumulated a
priceless store of knowledge; I am all there, I assure you."
John thought it only polite to murmur an assent to this, but he felt
himself ill equipped to sustain a conversation on the dizzy heights to
which Said Mohammed appeared inclined to ascend, and turning once more
to the window, he viewed in silence the ever-changing scenery. The
luxuriant vegetation of the coastal region had given place to a vast
plateau covered with a dense scrub of umbrella-shaped acacias, with
patches of dry grass, and here and there a massive baobab rearing its
antic form from out the undergrowth. He was interested in the little
stations, with their trim flower-beds and home-like appointments, at
which the train stopped at intervals of several miles; and gave but
perfunctory answers to the Bengali, who kept up, with every appearance
of pleasure, a continual flow of talk, informing him that this tree was
an aristolochia and that an aloe, and calling his attention at one spot
to a herd of sable antelopes which were startled by the train as they
drank at a stream, and dashed off into the jungle. "Their scientific
name, sir, is _Hippotragus niger_," said Said Mohammed, and Mr. Halliday
waking at this point, the Bengali favoured him with a smile, and said,
"A verree fine country, sir; good-morning."
They took their lunch at Mackinnon Road station, at the foot of the Taru
hills. Refreshed by his sleep and the meal, Mr. Halliday began to take
more interest in things in general, and John having introduced Said
Mohammed (mentioning impressively that he was a failed B.A. of Calcutta
University), a three-cornered conversation was begun, in which the
Bengali fluently expounded his views on many subjects.
"Yes, sir," said he, when the question of the treatment of native races
cropped up, "that is a subject to which I have devoted considerable
acumen. Is it just, I ask you, is it worthy of this immense and
glorious empire on which the sun never sits, that the natives, the
primordial owners of the soil, should be laid under such restrictions as
are now in force? Are we Indians not subjects of the same gracious and
glorious majesty, F.D., et cetera? Have we not shed our blood in
defence of the Union Jack? Are we not ready to fight and conquer again
and again like your jolly tars and all? And yet my countrymen, to wit,
are not allowed in South Africa the full rights of citizens; and in this
country, where this verree railway was built by the labour of Indians,
it is becoming the rule to refuse them grants of land. Is this sauce
for the gander, I ask you, gentlemen?"
"It's a very ticklish subject," said Mr. Halliday, "and I don't profess
to understand it. I dare say those zebras yonder--look at them, John,
hundreds of 'em--think it great impudence on the part of this engine to
run snorting through their grounds. But the engine runs all the same."
At Tsavo the line crossed the river Athi. John looked out eagerly for a
glimpse of the lions which were said to infest this region, but to his
disappointment saw none. Indeed, as the train passed through mile after
mile of uninteresting scrub, he began to feel that his first enthusiasm
for the country was premature. But at Kibwezi the line enters another
belt of forest, the trees looped together with festooning creepers, and
filled with chattering monkeys and barking baboons; the undergrowth
brilliant with colour, both of the flowers and of birds and butterflies
innumerable. Some miles farther on, at Makindu, the forest yields to
rich pasture land, the undulating plain stretching on both sides of the
line, broken by streams whose beds are lined with date-palms and firs.
All the vegetation was fresh and vivid through recent rains, and Mr.
Halliday, viewing the country with a stock-breeder's eye, now for the
first time allowed a remark on the scenery to pass his lips. "That's
grand!" he said; and when the rumbling of the train set startled herds
of antelope and gazelle, red congoni and black wildebeeste, scampering
over the plain, he stood up in the carriage and gazed at them with
kindling admiration.
The oppressive heat of the morning had now given place to a pleasant
coolness, with a crisp exhilarating breeze. When John expressed his
surprise at this, within a degree or two of the Equator, Said Mohammed
explained that they were now four or five thousand feet above sea-level,
among the Highlands of East Africa, where Europeans may live in health
and comfort. By the time they reached Nairobi, indeed, the evening air
was so chill that both Englishmen were glad to don their overcoats.
Said Mohammed deferentially took leave of them on the platform of the
station, and disappeared among a crowd of Orientals gathered there;
while Mr. Halliday inquired for the coffee-planter to whom he had an
introduction, and who had offered him the hospitality of his bungalow so
long as he remained in Nairobi.
CHAPTER THE SECOND--Said Mohammed, failed B.A.
Nairobi was disappointing. At a distance it looked like a cluster of
tin cottages, and though these appeared larger and more substantial on a
nearer view, they retained the dreary aspect of makeshift which
corrugated iron always gives. Mr. Gillespie, however, the
coffee-planter with whom the Hallidays were to stay, was hospitality
itself; he and his good wife received their visitors with real Scottish
heartiness of welcome. They gave them a capital dinner, and made them
feel thoroughly at home.
Mr. Gillespie was much amused when, in answering his question about
their journey from Mombasa, John told him of Said Mohammed, failed B.A.
"I'm that myself," he said, with a comical smile--"failed M.A. of
Glasgow, though I don't call myself so. Professor Ramsay's Latin
Composition fair stuck me, that's a fact. Man, these Indians are a
problem. We've some thousands of them here, industrious, quick, and
able to live on next to nothing, which we Scotsmen have got out of the
way of. I believe in free trade, when it is free; but I don't believe
in free competition with people who can beat us hollow, and these
Indians will do that if we let 'em. We're bound to put restrictions on
them."
"But they're British subjects, sir," John was beginning.
"Aye," interrupted Mr. Gillespie, "and so are the lions and rhinoceros
of these parts, and we have to fight 'em. A country can't belong to
both wild beasts and men; nor can it belong to black men and white; one
or other must go to the wall. Not that the Indians are wild beasts, or
even black; on the contrary, they're very decent folk in the main, and
that's the worst of it. The only solution I see is to let them develop
the Lowlands where we can't live, and to keep the Highlands for
ourselves. Man, it's a grand country."
After dinner Mr. Gillespie led his guests to the verandah, and providing
them with deck-chairs and cigars, discussed with them their immediate
future.
"We've a decent club here; I'll introduce you to-morrow, Halliday. You
can get a round of golf; and there are several young lassies who'll play
lawn tennis all day with your son if he wishes."
"Don't speak of it, man," said Mr. Halliday hastily. "We're out on
business--strictly on business, and we've no time for playing till we've
fixed on our land. Where is this Mount Kenya, anyway? John
Gilmour--d'ye know him?--was out hunting a while ago, and he wrote me
he'd found the very place for me, somewhere south-east of Mount Kenya;
he stuck a post in the ground to mark the spot, and I've the directions
written down somewhere."
"Mount Kenya's a bit north-east of us, a hundred miles or so. Fine
country, too."
"And how do you get there?"
"Well, the ground's not exactly fit for motor-cars yet, and horses don't
thrive. You can get mules, but they're apt to be a trouble, so I guess
you'd better tramp it. You'll have to carry food with you, and a load
of 'trade' for the natives; we'll have to see about getting carriers for
you; you pay 'em about four rupees a month, and feed 'em. Their food
don't cost much; you can get a hundredweight of native grain and red
beans for three or four rupees, and if you're good shots you can provide
yourselves with plenty of meat on the way."
"There's no fear of trouble with the natives, I suppose?"
"Not if you don't go too far north. South of Kenya they're friendly
enough as a rule, but there are wild tribes on the east and north. You
must have two porters who can shoot; Sniders they're used to; but don't
let 'em use them except in case of necessity. Do all the game shooting
yourselves, and keep a firm hand on the men; they'll play you all manner
of tricks if you don't. They're the queerest people God ever made,
that's a fact. They'll desert at any moment and forfeit their pay, for
no reason at all that we can understand. I could tell you of men who'll
carry a load of ninety pounds or more every day for a month on end, and
then all at once decamp, hundreds of miles away from their home, and
with no earthly chance of getting there. But you'll find 'em out for
yourselves."
The talk lasted far into the night, Mr. Gillespie giving advice and
retailing reminiscences of his own early days as a settler, which John
drank in eagerly. Next day they set about collecting porters for the
journey. The news that a white man was going up country had already
spread through the native quarter of the town, and Mr. Gillespie's
office was besieged by a great crowd of black men, representing a score
of different races, all eager to join the stranger's "safari." The
experience of the coffee-planter was very useful at this juncture, and
the Hallidays were quietly amused as he dismissed man after man with
little ceremony and a curtness of speech which, had they understood it
(he spoke in Swahili, the common vehicle of intercourse between European
and native), would have amused them still more. A little M'kamba would
come forward with a smile. "You're a thief; be off," said Mr.
Gillespie, and the man went away, still smiling. A hulking Swahili
appears, a sullen look on his face. "You're always quarrelling; be
off," says Mr. Gillespie, and the Swahili retires, to join the crowd of
rejected. At length half-a-dozen men were selected, three Swahilis, of
whom Coja ben Selim, a big, good-tempered-looking fellow, was to be
headman; and three Wakamba. Mr. Gillespie was doubtful whether so small
a safari would suffice; but Mr. Halliday was bent on economy; he argued
that he could not in any case afford an escort large enough to cope with
a serious native attack, and further, that a party of modest dimensions
was not so likely to provoke hostility as a large one. Moreover, he
intended to pay only a flying visit to the site of his proposed
settlement, for the purpose of a preliminary survey. If he was pleased
with the country, he intended to mark out the ground and put in an
application to the Land Commissioner for a lease of a thousand acres or
so. With luck, a month would suffice for this prospecting journey,
which incidentally, as Mr. Gillespie informed him, would absolve him
from paying registration fees on his porters, such fees only being
necessary when they were engaged for two months or more.
It remained to hire a cook for the expedition.
"We don't need a cook," said Mr. Halliday. "I've roughed it often
enough; we can do our own cooking."
"Man, you're a tenderfoot," said Mr. Gillespie, laughing. "You must
have a cook. Your men would all mutiny if you didn't. I don't mean
that he would cook for them; they'll have their own cooking-pots; but
they wouldn't obey you for a day if they saw you cooking for yourself.
The first maxim for a white man in this country is: 'Never do a black
man's work.' Order your men about as much as you please, but _don't do
anything_."
"But that's a doctrine of the dark ages. Confound it, man, that's the
kind of thing we shook off centuries ago. I'm not a duke."
"That's just exactly what you are here. The natives will regard you as
their lord and master, and if you don't act up to the part--why, man, I
think the Governor will expel you as an undesirable alien. In short,
you must have a cook."
Here Mr. Gillespie's native servant came in to say that an Indian
gentleman desired to see him.
"Send him in," said Mr. Gillespie, and there entered, suave and smiling,
Said Mohammed, failed B.A. He bowed respectfully--a little too
respectfully, thought John--to his acquaintances of the day before;
then, addressing himself to Mr. Gillespie, he said--
"Having learnt in the bazaar, sir, that the esteemed gentleman in whose
company I had the honour to travel yesterday is engaging a safari, I
embrace the opportunity of submitting tender of my services in
unremitting attention to the interior economy--soups, joints, sweets, et
cetera, or, as one might say, _hoc genus omne_, as it were."
John opened his eyes. Apparently the failed B.A. was offering himself
as cook; but John thought he must be mistaken. Mr. Gillespie, however,
after a stare at his visitor, said in a severely practical tone--
"You have experience?"
"Yes, sir, I am _experientia docet_ with several years' standing, and
testimonials galore. Videlicet, the Central Restaurant, sir, in London,
continuously chock-a-block on curry day when my dishes, prepared Indian
fashion, were the delight of city gents and ladies of prepossessing
appearance who feed there regular as clock-work. In soup, joint, entree
I am a don; in sauce I am a wily adept."
"Come up to my bungalow and cook my dinner to-night," said Mr.
Gillespie.
"Verree good, sir. The proof of the pudding is in the mastication
thereof. Good-morning, sir, and assuring you of my best services at all
times."
There was a laugh when Said Mohammed had gone.
"He'll never do," said Mr. Halliday.
"Man, if he's any good at all he'll be a perfect treasure," said Mr.
Gillespie. "And you'll have to pay him fifty rupees a month."
"Near L3 a month for cooking?" cried Mr. Halliday. "Can't afford it."
"But, my dear sir, you can't get any sort of a cook here for less than
thirty rupees; and our failed B.A., if he's worth his salt, will be
worth fifty. He will at least be clean; it's a part of his religion."
"Well, perhaps he's a failure all round. Anyway, we don't want
kickshaws, and a cheaper man will do all we need."
But the dinner at Mr. Gillespie's that night turned out excellent--well
cooked, well served, and varied though simple dishes.
"Faith, Halliday," said the host, "if you don't engage the man I'll take
him myself. That'll bring you up to the scratch if you've any Scotch
blood left in you."
Whether it was due to this provocation or not, Mr. Halliday engaged Said
Mohammed next day, for a month. Then, having been advised of the
inexpediency of delay, which might be taken advantage of by his porters
to desert, he decided to set off the same day, as soon as the hottest
hours were past. He sent Said Mohammed into the bazaar to buy the
necessary amount of food-stuff for the natives; Mr. Gillespie undertook
the purchase of small quantities of "trade"--sheeting, coloured cloths,
and beads for the most part; Mr. Halliday himself bought a small tent,
provisions, blankets, rifles and ammunition, and a few cheap utensils.
All these articles were sent up to the bungalow. At three o'clock Said
Mohammed and the six porters arrived and set about packing up, under Mr.
Gillespie's directions. Within an hour the loads were packed and placed
in a line on the ground.
"Now, Halliday," said Mr. Gillespie, "it's up to you. You must give
each man his proper load, and don't be jockeyed."
There was a twinkle in his eye which Mr. Halliday detected.
"Are you setting a trap for me?" he asked.
"No, no, man; but as you're to be master, the sooner you feel your feet
the better."
Whereupon Mr. Halliday, who was not without courage as well as shrewd
common-sense, instantly confided the tent and personal baggage to two of
the three Swahilis, and distributed the remaining loads among the three
Wakamba by a rough and ready estimate of their muscular capabilities.
Then began what John called the "fun." The Swahilis accepted their
loads without a murmur; were they not the best fitted to carry the
_bwana's_ belongings? But one of the Wakamba, a stout little fellow
with one eye, uttered a terrible wail when he lifted his bundle to his
back, and, letting it down again, began to expostulate in a torrent of
gibberish, of which the _bwana_, of course, understood not a word. The
others instantly followed his example, and all three began to wrangle
and gesticulate and abuse one another with a deafening clamour. It was
plain that every man wanted the load of somebody else. Mr. Halliday
looked on calmly for a few moments, Mr. Gillespie curiously watching to
see what he would do, and placidly smoking a cigar without offering any
suggestion. Suddenly Mr. Halliday called to Coja ben Selim, the
Swahili, and the only man whose name he knew.
"You're headman; settle it," he said calmly, turning on his heel. "I
give you five minutes."
The big Swahili instantly went among the Wakamba, cuffing them right and
left. In less than five minutes peace was restored, the Wakamba slung
their loads to their backs, passing the long loop of raw hide around
their foreheads; the Swahilis set theirs upon their heads; and the cry
of "Safari! safari!" indicated that they were ready to be off.
"A capital start, Halliday," said Mr. Gillespie. "Good luck to ye."
Mr. Halliday and John shook hands heartily with their host and hostess,
and taking their rifles under their arm, set off after the little
caravan, the leader of which had already started a marching song. Said
Mohammed, carrying a little bundle of his own, brought up the rear, with
Coja ben Selim.