VAN DER WYCK'S GIFT
"GOT 'em, sir. There were two of 'em. All fast, sir!"
"Hoist away!"
Amid ringing and unrestrained cheers from the passengers of the
_Huldebras_ the boat and its occupants were whisked up to the
davits. Willing hands helped the two rescued men to the deck, where
they were at once taken in charge by the ship's doctor.
Once more the twin screws lashed the water, and, gathering way, the
_Huldebras_ resumed her interrupted voyage. The passengers went
below, and in a very short space of time the forty-minutes wonder
was to the majority of them merely an incident.
By noon on the day following, Colin and Van der Wyck were out and
about. The former had quite a difficulty to avoid being lionised by
the rest of the passengers, for, greatly to his annoyance, Tiny
Desmond had related the circumstances under which Colin had leapt
overboard.
The Afrikander got off lightly in that respect. He was merely an
object of curiosity, and even the newly-repaired rail failed to
scotch a rumour that he had deliberately thrown himself into the
sea.
He said little about the mishap beyond thanking Colin for saving his
life. He quite realised that if the lad had not brought the lifebuoy
to within his grasp things would have gone badly with him. But what
appeared to trouble him was the fact that he had lost his revolver,
and also the mechanism of his artificial foot had been damaged by
the salt water.
Although he continued to talk with Colin and Desmond, he never
attempted to renew his interrupted account of the wonders of the
Secret City of the Makoh'lenga. When Tiny broached the subject he
adroitly switched the conversation off into another channel, and
Desmond had the good sense to take the hint.
Beyond a mild excitement caused by the report that a first-class
passenger had been robbed of a pocket-book containing £500 and a
quantity of jewellery, nothing out of the ordinary occurred during
the rest of the voyage to Cape Town.
The outlines of the famous Table Mountain were already showing above
the horizon, and the end of the voyage in sight when Van der Wyck
turned abruptly to his cabin-mate.
Colin and the Afrikander were engaged in packing their cabin-trunks
when the latter asked:
"How are you going upcountry?"
"We're taking a boat to Dar-es-Salaam," replied Sinclair, "and then
train to Tabora."
"H'm--might almost as well go up from here by train--through
Mafeking and Bulawayo to Kambove, and then by steamer across
Tanganyika. Don't know, though; perhaps you'd better carry on. We
might have kept together as far as Mafeking. But we may run across
one another again. If you want to write, Box 445B Mafeking will find
me." Colin made a note in his pocket-book of the address.
"And look here," continued Van der Wyck, pushing his portmanteau
aside and looking straight at his companion. "Look here, forget all
I told you about Makoh'lenga--if you can. It's not exactly---- well,
healthy. No white man ever did himself any good by trying to probe
the secrets of the place. I'm sorry I ever mentioned the place or
the people to you."
The Afrikander's almost fierce earnestness took Colin aback.
Naturally the lad wished for an explanation, but none was
forthcoming. Van der Wyck resumed his packing with almost feverish
energy, never saying a word until, with a vicious tug, he secured
the buckle of the last strap.
"Yes," he reiterated, apparently regardless of the fact that he had
not spoken for quite ten minutes. "I'm sorry I ever mentioned the
place. However, what's said cannot be unsaid. I owe you something,
Sinclair, for hiking me out of the ditch----"
"No, indeed," interrupted Colin in protest. "You thanked me. That
was quite enough."
"It's my call," declared Van der Wyck. "You were a good chum. I'd
have thought twice before jumping overboard on a dark night--or in
the daytime," he added grimly, "since I can't swim. So I want you to
take this as a souvenir."
He tossed Colin a small bag of discoloured wash-leather secured by a
thin strip of cowhide.
"It won't bite you," he added with a laugh as Colin handled the bag
without making any attempt to examine its contents. "Open it and see
what's inside."
Sinclair did as he was asked, and drew out a curiously shaped piece
of metal of crude native workmanship bearing a decided resemblance
to a swastika. It was of gold inlaid with copper. The face was
inscribed with rough representations of animals of a kind unknown to
biology, while on the reverse side was an inscription in uncial
characters. At the top of one of the four arms a hole had been
drilled, or rather punched, for the edges were rough to the touch.
"Why, it's gold!" exclaimed Colin. "It must be worth a tremendous
lot!"
Van der Wyck nodded gravely.
"Yes, it's gold," he agreed. "African gold but I fancy there are a
good many people who would give you ten times its weight in gold to
possess it."
"But why give it to me?" asked Colin in bewilderment.
"'Cause I want to," replied the Afrikander. "That's reason enough.
But take my advice, if you want to realise on it----"
"But I wouldn't," protested Colin.
"To realise on it," continued Van der Wyck, "don't attempt to do so
while you are in Africa. Keep it. Wear it. It may do you a very good
turn."
Then, as if dismissing the matter from his mind, Van der Wyck
regarded his strapped portmanteau with a far-away air.
"Hang it!" he muttered to himself, yet sufficiently loud to enable
Colin to hear. "Hang it! I wish I hadn't lost my revolver."