THE START
That evening when the baggage had been disposed of and locked up in my
little stable and arrangements were made for the delivery of some cases
containing tinned foods, etc., which had proved too heavy for the
Scotch cart, Lord Ragnall and I continued our conversation. First,
however, we unpacked the guns and checked the ammunition, of which
there was a large supply, with more to follow.
A beautiful battery they were of all sorts from elephant guns down, the
most costly and best finished that money could buy at the time. It made
me shiver to think what the bill for them must have been, while their
appearance when they were put together and stood in a long line against
the wall of my sitting-room, moved old Hans to a kind of ecstasy. For a
long while he contemplated them, patting the stocks one after the other
and giving to each a name as though they were all alive, then
exclaimed:
“With such weapons as these the Baas could kill the devil himself.
Still, let the Baas bring Intombi with him”—a favourite old rifle of
mine and a mere toy in size, that had however done me good service in
the past, as those who have read what I have written in “Marie” and
“The Holy Flower” may remember. “For, Baas, after all, the wife of
one’s youth often proves more to be trusted than the fine young ones a
man buys in his age. Also one knows all her faults, but who can say how
many there may be hidden up in new women however beautifully they are
tattooed?” and he pointed to the elaborate engraving upon the guns.
I translated this speech to Lord Ragnall. It made him laugh, at which I
was glad for up till then I had not seen him even smile. I should add
that in addition to these sporting weapons there were no fewer than
fifty military rifles of the best make, they were large-bore Sniders
that had just then been put upon the market, and with them, packed in
tin cases, a great quantity of ammunition. Although the regulations
were not so strict then as they are now, I met with a great deal of
difficulty in getting all this armament through the Customs. Lord
Ragnall however had letters from the Colonial Office to such
authorities as ruled in Natal, and on our giving a joint undertaking
that they were for defensive purposes only in unexplored territory and
not for sale, they were allowed through. Fortunate did it prove for us
in after days that this matter was arranged.
That night before we went to bed I narrated to Lord Ragnall all the
history of our search for the Holy Flower, which he seemed to find very
entertaining. Also I told him of my adventures, to me far more
terrible, as chairman of the Bona Fide Gold Mine and of their
melancholy end.
“The lesson of which is,” he remarked when I had finished, “that
because a man is master of one trade, it does not follow that he is
master of another. You are, I should judge, one of the finest shots in
the world, you are also a great hunter and explorer. But when it comes
to companies, Quatermain——! Still,” he went on, “I ought to be grateful
to that Bona Fide Gold Mine, since I gather that had it not been for it
and for your rascally friend, Mr. Jacob, I should not have found you
here.”
“No,” I answered, “it is probable that you would not, as by this time I
might have been far in the interior where a man cannot be traced and
letters do not reach him.”
Then he made a few pointed inquiries about the affairs of the mine,
noting my answers down in his pocket-book. I thought this odd but
concluded that he wished to verify my statements before entering into a
close companionship with me, since for aught he knew I might be the
largest liar in the world and a swindler to boot. So I said nothing,
even when I heard through a roundabout channel on the morrow that he
had sought an interview with the late secretary of the defunct company.
A few days later, for I may as well finish with this matter at once,
the astonishing object of these inquiries was made clear to me. One
morning I found upon my table a whole pile of correspondence, at the
sight of which I groaned, feeling sure that it must come from duns and
be connected with that infernal mine. Curiosity and a desire to face
the worst, however, led me to open the first letter which as it
happened proved to be from that very shareholder who had proposed a
vote of confidence in me at the winding-up meeting. By the time that it
was finished my eyes were swimming and really I felt quite faint. It
ran:
“HONOURED SIR,—I knew that I was putting my money on the right horse
when I said the other day that you were one of the straightest that
ever ran. Well, I have got the cheque sent me by the lawyer on your
account, being payment in full for every farthing I invested in the
Bona Fide Gold Mine, and I can only say that it is uncommonly useful,
for that business had pretty well cleaned me out. God bless you, Mr.
Quatermain.”
I opened another letter, and another, and another. They were all to the
same effect. Bewildered I went on to the stoep, where I found Hans with
an epistle in his hand which he requested me to be good enough to read.
I read it. It was from a well-known firm of local lawyers and said:
“On behalf of Allan Quatermain, Esq., we beg to enclose a draft for the
sum of £650, being the value of the interest in the Bona Fide Gold
Company, Limited (in liquidation), which stands in your name on the
books of the company. Please sign enclosed receipt and return same to
us.”
Yes, and there was the draft for £650 sterling!
I explained the matter to Hans, or rather I translated the document,
adding:
“You see you have got your money back again. But Hans, I never sent it;
I don’t know where it comes from.”
“Is it money, Baas?” asked Hans, surveying the draft with suspicion.
“It looks very much like the other bit of paper for which I paid
money.”
Again I explained, reiterating that I knew nothing of the transaction.
“Well, Baas,” he said, “if you did not send it someone did—perhaps your
father the reverend Predikant, who sees that you are in trouble and
wishes to wash your name white again. Meanwhile, Baas, please put that
bit of paper in your pocket-book and keep it for me, for otherwise I
might be tempted to buy square-face with it.”
“No,” I answered, “you can now buy your land back, or some other land,
and there will be no need for you to come with me to the country of the
Kendah.”
Hans thought a moment and then very deliberately began to tear up the
draft; indeed I was only just in time to save it from destruction.
“If the Baas is going to turn me off because of this paper,” he said,
“I will make it small and eat it.”
“You silly old fool,” I said as I possessed myself of the cheque.
Then the conversation was interrupted, for who should appear but Sammy,
my old cook, who began in his pompous language:
“The perfect rectitude of your conduct, Mr. Quatermain, moves me to the
deepest gratitude, though indeed I wish that I had put something into
the food of the knave Jacob who beguiled us all, that would have caused
him internal pangs of a severe if not of a dangerous order. My holding
in the gold mine was not extensive, but the unpaid bill of the said
Jacob and his friends——”
Here I cut him short and fled, since I saw yet another shareholder
galloping to the gate, and behind him two more in a spider. First I
took refuge in my room, my idea being to put away that pile of letters.
In so doing I observed that there was one still unopened. Half
mechanically I took it from the envelope and glanced at its contents.
They were word for word identical with those of that addressed to “Mr.
Hans, Hottentot,” only my name was at the bottom of it instead of that
of Hans and the cheque was for £1,500, the amount I had paid for the
shares I held in the venture.
Feeling as though my brain were in a melting-pot, I departed from the
house into a patch of native bush that in those days still grew upon
the slope of the hill behind. Here I sat myself down, as I had often
done before when there was a knotty point to be considered, aimlessly
watching a lovely emerald cuckoo flashing, a jewel of light, from tree
to tree, while I turned all this fairy-godmother business over in my
mind.
Of course it soon became clear to me. Lord Ragnall in this case was the
little old lady with the wand, the touch of which could convert
worthless share certificates into bank-notes of their face value. I
remembered now that his wealth was said to be phenomenal and after all
the cash capital of the company was quite small. But the question
was—could I accept his bounty?
I returned to the house where the first person whom I met was Lord
Ragnall himself, just arrived from some interview about the fifty
Snider rifles, which were still in bond. I told him solemnly that I
wished to speak to him, whereon he remarked in a cheerful voice,
“Advance, friend, and all’s well!”
I don’t know that I need set out the details of the interview. He
waited till I had got through my halting speech of mingled gratitude
and expostulation, then remarked:
“My friend, if you will allow me to call you so, it is quite true that
I have done this because I wished to do it. But it is equally true that
to me it is a small thing—to be frank, scarcely a month’s income; what
I have saved travelling on that ship to Natal would pay for it all.
Also I have weighed my own interest in the matter, for I am anxious
that you should start upon this hazardous journey of ours up country
with a mind absolutely free from self-reproach or any money care, for
thus you will be able to do me better service. Therefore I beg that you
will say no more of the episode. I have only one thing to add, namely
that I have myself bought up at par value a few of the debentures. The
price of them will pay the lawyers and the liquidation fees; moreover
they give me a status as a shareholder which will enable me to sue Mr.
Jacob for his fraud, to which business I have already issued
instructions. For please understand that I have not paid off any shares
still standing in his name or in those of his friends.”
Here I may add that nothing ever came of this action, for the lawyers
found themselves unable to serve any writ upon that elusive person, Mr.
Jacob, who by then had probably adopted the name of some other
patriarch.
“Please put it all down as a rich man’s whim,” he concluded.
“I can’t call that a whim which has returned £1,500 odd to my pocket
that I had lost upon a gamble, Lord Ragnall.”
“Do you remember, Quatermain, how you won £250 upon a gamble at my
place and what you did with it, which sum probably represented to you
twenty or fifty times what it would to me? Also if that argument does
not appeal to you, may I remark that I do not expect you to give me
your services as a professional hunter and guide for nothing.”
“Ah!” I answered, fixing on this point and ignoring the rest, “now we
come to business. If I may look upon this amount as salary, a very
handsome salary by the way, paid in advance, you taking the risks of my
dying or becoming incapacitated before it is earned, I will say no more
of the matter. If not I must refuse to accept what is an unearned
gift.”
“I confess, Quatermain, that I did not regard it in that light, though
I might have been willing to call it a retaining fee. However, do not
let us wrangle about money any more. We can always settle our accounts
when the bill is added up, if ever we reach so far. Now let us come to
more important details.”
So we fell to discussing the scheme, route and details of our proposed
journey. Expenditure being practically no object, there were several
plans open to us. We might sail up the coast and go by Kilwa, as I had
done on the search for the Holy Flower, or we might retrace the line of
our retreat from the Mazitu country which ran through Zululand. Again,
we might advance by whatever road we selected with a small army of
drilled and disciplined retainers, trusting to force to break a way
through to the Kendah. Or we might go practically unaccompanied,
relying on our native wit and good fortune to attain our ends. Each of
these alternatives had so much to recommend it and yet presented so
many difficulties, that after long hours of discussion, for this talk
was renewed again and again, I found it quite impossible to decide upon
any one of them, especially as in the end Lord Ragnall always left the
choice with its heavy responsibilities to me.
At length in despair I opened the window and whistled twice on a
certain low note. A minute later Hans shuffled in, shaking the wet off
the new corduroy clothes which he had bought upon the strength of his
return to affluence, for it was raining outside, and squatted himself
down upon the floor at a little distance. In the shadow of the table
which cut off the light from the hanging lamp he looked, I remember,
exactly like an enormous and antique toad. I threw him a piece of
tobacco which he thrust into his corn-cob pipe and lit with a match.
“The Baas called me,” he said when it was drawing to his satisfaction,
“what does Baas want of Hans?”
“Light in darkness!” I replied, playing on his native name, and
proceeded to set out the whole case to him.
He listened without a word, then asked for a small glass of gin, which
I gave him doubtfully. Having swallowed this at a gulp as though it
were water, he delivered himself briefly to this effect:
“I think the Baas will do well not to go to Kilwa, since it means
waiting for a ship, or hiring one; also there may be more slave-traders
there by now who will bear him no love because of a lesson he taught
them a while ago. On the other hand the road through Zululand is open,
though it be long, and there the name of Macumazana is one well known.
I think also that the Baas would do well not to take too many men, who
make marching slow, only a wagon or two and some drivers which might be
sent back when they can go no farther. From Zululand messengers can be
dispatched to the Mazitu, who love you, and Bausi or whoever is king
there to-day will order bearers to meet us on the road, until which
time we can hire other bearers in Zululand. The old woman at Beza-Town
told me, moreover, as you will remember, that the Kendah are a very
great people who live by themselves and will allow none to enter their
land, which is bordered by deserts. Therefore no force that you could
take with you and feed upon a road without water would be strong enough
to knock down their gates like an elephant, and it seems better that
you should try to creep through them like a wise snake, although they
appear to be shut in your face. Perhaps also they will not be shut
since did you not say that two of their great doctors promised to meet
you and guide you through them?”
“Yes,” I interrupted, “I dare say it will be easier to get in than to
get out of Kendahland.”
“Last of all, Baas, if you take many men armed with guns, the black
part of the Kendah people of whom I told you will perhaps think you
come to make war, whatever the white Kendah may say, and kill us all,
whereas if we be but a few perchance they will let us pass in peace. I
think that is all, Baas. Let the Baas and the Lord Igeza forgive me if
my words are foolish.”
Here I should explain that “Igeza” was the name which the natives had
given to Lord Ragnall because of his appearance. The word means a
handsome person in the Zulu tongue. Savage they called “Bena,” I don’t
know why. “Bena” in Zulu means to push out the breast and it may be
that the name was a round-about allusion to the proud appearance of the
dignified Savage, or possibly it had some other recondite
signification. At any rate Lord Ragnall, Hans and myself knew the
splendid Savage thenceforward by the homely appellation of Beans. His
master said it suited him very well because he was so green.
“The advice seems wise, Hans. Go now. No, no more gin,” I answered.
As a matter of fact careful consideration convinced us it was so wise
that we acted on it down to the last detail.
So it came about that one fine afternoon about a fortnight later, for
hurry as we would our preparations took a little time, we trekked for
Zululand over the sandy roads that ran from the outskirts of Durban.
Our baggage and stores were stowed in two half-tented wagons, very good
wagons since everything we had with us was the best that money could
buy, the after-part of which served us as sleeping-places at night.
Hans sat on the _voor-kisse_ or driving-seat of one of the wagons; Lord
Ragnall, Savage and I were mounted upon “salted” horses, that is,
horses which had recovered from and were therefore supposed to be proof
against the dreadful sickness, valuable and docile animals which were
trained to shooting.
At our start a little contretemps occurred. To my amazement I saw
Savage, who insisted upon continuing to wear his funereal upper
servant’s cut-away coat, engaged with grim determination in mounting
his steed from the wrong side. He got into the saddle somehow, but
there was worse to follow. The horse, astonished at such treatment,
bolted a little way, Savage sawing at its mouth. Lord Ragnall and I
cantered after it past the wagons, fearing disaster. All of a sudden it
swerved violently and Savage flew into the air, landing heavily in a
sitting posture.
“Poor Beans!” ejaculated Lord Ragnall as we sped forward. “I expect
there is an end of his journeyings.”
To our surprise, however, we saw him leap from the ground with the most
marvellous agility and begin to dance about slapping at his posterior
parts and shouting,
“Take it off! Kill it!”
A few seconds later we discovered the reason. The horse had shied at a
sleeping puff adder which was curled up in the sand of that little
frequented road, and on this puff adder Savage had descended with so
much force, for he weighed thirteen stone, that the creature was
squashed quite flat and never stirred again. This, however, he did not
notice in his agitation, being convinced indeed that it was hanging to
him behind like a bulldog.
“Snakes! my lord,” he exclaimed, when at last after careful search we
demonstrated to him that the adder had died before it could come into
action.
“I hate ‘em, my lord, and they haunts” (he said ‘aunts) “me. If ever I
get out of this I’ll go and live in Ireland, my lord, where they say
there ain’t none. But it isn’t likely that I shall,” he added
mournfully, “for the omen is horrid.”
“On the contrary,” I answered, “it is splendid, for you have killed the
snake and not the snake you. ‘The dog it was that died,’ Savage.”
After this the Kafirs gave Savage a second very long name which meant
“He-who-sits-down-on-snakes-and-makes-them-flat.” Having remounted him
on his horse, which was standing patiently a few yards away, at length
we got off. I lingered a minute behind the others to give some
directions to my old Griqua gardener, Jack, who snivelled at parting
with me, and to take a last look at my little home. Alack! I feared it
might be the last indeed, knowing as I did that this was a dangerous
enterprise upon which I found myself embarked, I who had vowed that I
would be done with danger.
With a lump in my throat I turned from the contemplation of that
peaceful dwelling and happy garden in which each tree and plant was
dear to me, and waving a good-bye to Jack, cantered on to where Ragnall
was waiting for me.
“I am afraid this is rather a sad hour for you, who are leaving your
little boy and your home,” he said gently, “to face unknown perils.”
“Not so sad as others I have passed,” I answered, “and perils are my
daily bread in every sense of the word. Moreover, whatever it is for me
it is for you also.”
“No, Quatermain. For me it is an hour of hope; a faint hope, I admit,
but the only one left, for the letters I got last night from Egypt and
England report that no clue whatsoever has been found, and indeed that
the search for any has been abandoned. Yes, I follow the last star left
in my sky and if it sets I hope that I may set also, at any rate to
this world. Therefore I am happier than I have been for months, thanks
to you,” and he stretched out his hand, which I shook.
It was a token of friendship and mutual confidence which I am glad to
say nothing that happened afterwards ever disturbed for a moment.