Prester John Read online

  CHAPTER II

  FURTH! FORTUNE!

  In this plain story of mine there will be so many wild doings ere theend is reached, that I beg my reader's assent to a prosaic digression.I will tell briefly the things which happened between my sight of theman on the Kirkcaple sands and my voyage to Africa. I continued forthree years at the burgh school, where my progress was less notable inmy studies than in my sports. One by one I saw my companions pass outof idle boyhood and be set to professions. Tam Dyke on two occasionsran off to sea in the Dutch schooners which used to load with coal inour port; and finally his father gave him his will, and he wasapprenticed to the merchant service. Archie Leslie, who was a year myelder, was destined for the law, so he left Kirkcaple for an Edinburghoffice, where he was also to take out classes at the college. Iremained on at school till I sat alone by myself in the highestclass--a position of little dignity and deep loneliness. I had grown atall, square-set lad, and my prowess at Rugby football was renownedbeyond the parishes of Kirkcaple and Portincross. To my father I fearI was a disappointment. He had hoped for something in his son morebookish and sedentary, more like his gentle, studious self.

  On one thing I was determined: I should follow a learned profession.The fear of being sent to an office, like so many of my schoolfellows,inspired me to the little progress I ever made in my studies. I chosethe ministry, not, I fear, out of any reverence for the sacred calling,but because my father had followed it before me. Accordingly I wassent at the age of sixteen for a year's finishing at the High School ofEdinburgh, and the following winter began my Arts course at theuniversity.

  If Fate had been kinder to me, I think I might have become a scholar.At any rate I was just acquiring a taste for philosophy and the deadlanguages when my father died suddenly of a paralytic shock, and I hadto set about earning a living.

  My mother was left badly off, for my poor father had never been able tosave much from his modest stipend. When all things were settled, itturned out that she might reckon on an income of about fifty pounds ayear. This was not enough to live on, however modest the household,and certainly not enough to pay for the colleging of a son. At thispoint an uncle of hers stepped forward with a proposal. He was awell-to-do bachelor, alone in the world, and he invited my mother tolive with him and take care of his house. For myself he proposed apost in some mercantile concern, for he had much influence in thecircles of commerce. There was nothing for it but to acceptgratefully. We sold our few household goods, and moved to his gloomyhouse in Dundas Street. A few days later he announced at dinner thathe had found for me a chance which might lead to better things.

  'You see, Davie,' he explained, 'you don't know the rudiments ofbusiness life. There's no house in the country that would take you inexcept as a common clerk, and you would never earn much more than ahundred pounds a year all your days. If you want to better your futureyou must go abroad, where white men are at a premium. By the mercy ofProvidence I met yesterday an old friend, Thomas Mackenzie, who wasseeing his lawyer about an estate he is bidding for. He is the head ofone of the biggest trading and shipping concerns in theworld--Mackenzie, Mure, and Oldmeadows--you may have heard the name.Among other things he has half the stores in South Africa, where theysell everything from Bibles to fish-hooks. Apparently they like menfrom home to manage the stores, and to make a long story short, when Iput your case to him, he promised you a place. I had a wire from himthis morning confirming the offer. You are to be assistant storekeeperat--' (my uncle fumbled in his pocket, and then read from the yellowslip) 'at Blaauwildebeestefontein. There's a mouthful for you.'

  In this homely way I first heard of a place which was to be the theatreof so many strange doings.

  'It's a fine chance for you,' my uncle continued. 'You'll only beassistant at first, but when you have learned your job you'll have astore of your own. Mackenzie's people will pay you three hundredpounds a year, and when you get a store you'll get a percentage onsales. It lies with you to open up new trade among the natives. Ihear that Blaauw--something or other, is in the far north of theTransvaal, and I see from the map that it is in a wild, hilly country.You may find gold or diamonds up there, and come back and buyPortincross House.' My uncle rubbed his hands and smiled cheerily.

  Truth to tell I was both pleased and sad. If a learned profession wasdenied me I vastly preferred a veld store to an Edinburgh office stool.Had I not been still under the shadow of my father's death I might havewelcomed the chance of new lands and new folk. As it was, I felt theloneliness of an exile. That afternoon I walked on the Braid Hills, andwhen I saw in the clear spring sunlight the coast of Fife, andremembered Kirkcaple and my boyish days, I could have found it in me tosit down and cry.

  A fortnight later I sailed. My mother bade me a tearful farewell, andmy uncle, besides buying me an outfit and paying my passage money, gaveme a present of twenty sovereigns. 'You'll not be your mother's son,Davie,' were his last words, 'if you don't come home with it multipliedby a thousand.' I thought at the time that I would give more thantwenty thousand pounds to be allowed to bide on the windy shores ofForth.

  I sailed from Southampton by an intermediate steamer, and went steerageto save expense. Happily my acute homesickness was soon forgotten inanother kind of malady. It blew half a gale before we were out of theChannel, and by the time we had rounded Ushant it was as dirty weatheras ever I hope to see. I lay mortal sick in my bunk, unable to bearthe thought of food, and too feeble to lift my head. I wished I hadnever left home, but so acute was my sickness that if some one hadthere and then offered me a passage back or an immediate landing onshore I should have chosen the latter.

  It was not till we got into the fair-weather seas around Madeira that Irecovered enough to sit on deck and observe my fellow-passengers.There were some fifty of us in the steerage, mostly wives and childrengoing to join relations, with a few emigrant artisans and farmers. Iearly found a friend in a little man with a yellow beard andspectacles, who sat down beside me and remarked on the weather in astrong Scotch accent. He turned out to be a Mr Wardlaw from Aberdeen,who was going out to be a schoolmaster. He was a man of goodeducation, who had taken a university degree, and had taught for someyears as an under-master in a school in his native town. But the eastwinds had damaged his lungs, and he had been glad to take the chance ofa poorly paid country school in the veld. When I asked him where hewas going I was amazed to be told, 'Blaauwildebeestefontein.'

  Mr Wardlaw was a pleasant little man, with a sharp tongue but acheerful temper. He laboured all day at primers of the Dutch andKaffir languages, but in the evening after supper he would walk with meon the after-deck and discuss the future. Like me, he knew nothing ofthe land he was going to, but he was insatiably curious, and heaffected me with his interest. 'This place, Blaauwildebeestefontein,'he used to say, 'is among the Zoutpansberg mountains, and as far as Ican see, not above ninety miles from the railroad. It looks from themap a well-watered country, and the Agent-General in London told me itwas healthy or I wouldn't have taken the job. It seems we'll be in theheart of native reserves up there, for here's a list of chiefs--'Mpefu,Sikitola, Majinje, Magata; and there are no white men living to theeast of us because of the fever. The name means the "spring of theblue wildebeeste," whatever fearsome animal that may be. It soundslike a place for adventure, Mr Crawfurd. You'll exploit the pockets ofthe black men and I'll see what I can do with their minds.' There wasanother steerage passenger whom I could not help observing because ofmy dislike of his appearance. He, too, was a little man, by nameHenriques, and in looks the most atrocious villain I have ever clappedeyes on. He had a face the colour of French mustard--a sort of dirtygreen--and bloodshot, beady eyes with the whites all yellowed withfever. He had waxed moustaches, and a curious, furtive way of walkingand looking about him. We of the steerage were careless in our dress,but he was always clad in immaculate white linen, with pointed, yellowshoes to match his complexion. He spoke to no one, but smoked longcheroots all day in
the stern of the ship, and studied a greasypocket-book. Once I tripped over him in the dark, and he turned on mewith a snarl and an oath. I was short enough with him in return, andhe looked as if he could knife me.

  'I'll wager that fellow has been a slave-driver in his time,' I told MrWardlaw, who said, 'God pity his slaves, then.'

  And now I come to the incident which made the rest of the voyage passall too soon for me, and foreshadowed the strange events which were tocome. It was the day after we crossed the Line, and the first-classpassengers were having deck sports. A tug-of-war had been arrangedbetween the three classes, and a half-dozen of the heaviest fellows inthe steerage, myself included, were invited to join. It was a blazinghot afternoon, but on the saloon deck there were awnings and a coolwind blowing from the bows. The first-class beat the second easily,and after a tremendous struggle beat the steerage also. Then theyregaled us with iced-drinks and cigars to celebrate the victory.

  I was standing at the edge of the crowd of spectators, when my eyecaught a figure which seemed to have little interest in our games. Alarge man in clerical clothes was sitting on a deck-chair reading abook. There was nothing novel about the stranger, and I cannot explainthe impulse which made me wish to see his face. I moved a few steps upthe deck, and then I saw that his skin was black. I went a littlefarther, and suddenly he raised his eyes from his book and lookedround. It was the face of the man who had terrified me years ago on theKirkcaple shore.

  I spent the rest of the day in a brown study. It was clear to me thatsome destiny had prearranged this meeting. Here was this mantravelling prosperously as a first-class passenger with all theappurtenances of respectability. I alone had seen him invoking strangegods in the moonlight, I alone knew of the devilry in his heart, and Icould not but believe that some day or other there might be virtue inthat knowledge.

  The second engineer and I had made friends, so I got him to consult thepurser's list for the name of my acquaintance. He was down as the Rev.John Laputa, and his destination was Durban. The next day being Sunday,who should appear to address us steerage passengers but the blackminister. He was introduced by the captain himself, a notably piousman, who spoke of the labours of his brother in the dark places ofheathendom. Some of us were hurt in our pride in being made the targetof a black man's oratory. Especially Mr Henriques, whose skin spoke ofthe tar-brush, protested with oaths against the insult. Finally he satdown on a coil of rope, and spat scornfully in the vicinity of thepreacher.

  For myself I was intensely curious, and not a little impressed. Theman's face was as commanding as his figure, and his voice was the mostwonderful thing that ever came out of human mouth. It was full andrich, and gentle, with the tones of a great organ. He had none of thesquat and preposterous negro lineaments, but a hawk nose like an Arab,dark flashing eyes, and a cruel and resolute mouth. He was black as myhat, but for the rest he might have sat for a figure of a Crusader. Ido not know what the sermon was about, though others told me that itwas excellent. All the time I watched him, and kept saying to myself,'You hunted me up the Dyve Burn, but I bashed your face for you.'Indeed, I thought I could see faint scars on his cheek.

  The following night I had toothache, and could not sleep. It was toohot to breathe under cover, so I got up, lit a pipe, and walked on theafter-deck to ease the pain. The air was very still, save for thewhish of water from the screws and the steady beat of the engines.Above, a great yellow moon looked down on me, and a host of pale stars.

  The moonlight set me remembering the old affair of the Dyve Burn, andmy mind began to run on the Rev. John Laputa. It pleased me to thinkthat I was on the track of some mystery of which I alone had the clue.I promised myself to search out the antecedents of the minister when Igot to Durban, for I had a married cousin there, who might knowsomething of his doings. Then, as I passed by the companion-way to thelower deck, I heard voices, and peeping over the rail, I saw two mensitting in the shadow just beyond the hatch of the hold.

  I thought they might be two of the sailors seeking coolness on the opendeck, when something in the figure of one of them made me look again.The next second I had slipped back and stolen across the after-deck toa point just above them. For the two were the black minister and thatugly yellow villain, Henriques.

  I had no scruples about eavesdropping, but I could make nothing oftheir talk. They spoke low, and in some tongue which may have beenKaffir or Portuguese, but was in any case unknown to me. I lay,cramped and eager, for many minutes, and was just getting sick of itwhen a familiar name caught my ear. Henriques said something in whichI caught the word 'Blaauwildebeestefontein.' I listened intently, andthere could be no mistake. The minister repeated the name, and for thenext few minutes it recurred often in their talk. I went backstealthily to bed, having something to make me forget my aching tooth.First of all, Laputa and Henriques were allies. Second, the place Iwas bound for had something to do with their schemes.

  I said nothing to Mr Wardlaw, but spent the next week in the assiduoustoil of the amateur detective. I procured some maps and books from myfriend, the second engineer, and read all I could aboutBlaauwildebeestefontein. Not that there was much to learn; but Iremember I had quite a thrill when I discovered from the chart of theship's run one day that we were in the same latitude as thatuncouthly-named spot. I found out nothing, however, about Henriques orthe Rev. John Laputa. The Portuguese still smoked in the stern, andthumbed his greasy notebook; the minister sat in his deck-chair, andread heavy volumes from the ship's library. Though I watched everynight, I never found them again together.

  At Cape Town Henriques went ashore and did not return. The minister didnot budge from the ship the three days we lay in port, and, indeed, itseemed to me that he kept his cabin. At any rate I did not see hisgreat figure on deck till we were tossing in the choppy seas round CapeAgulhas. Sea-sickness again attacked me, and with short lulls duringour stoppages at Port Elizabeth and East London, I lay wretchedly in mybunk till we sighted the bluffs of Durban harbour.

  Here it was necessary for me to change my ship, for in the interests ofeconomy I was going by sea to Delagoa Bay, and thence by the cheaprailway journey into the Transvaal. I sought out my cousin, who livedin a fine house on the Berea, and found a comfortable lodging for thethree days of my stay there. I made inquiries about Mr Laputa, butcould hear nothing. There was no native minister of that name, said mycousin, who was a great authority on all native questions. I describedthe man, but got no further light. No one had seen or heard of such abeing, 'unless,' said my cousin, 'he is one of those American Ethiopianrascals.'

  My second task was to see the Durban manager of the firm which I hadundertaken to serve. He was a certain Mr Colles, a big fat man, whowelcomed me in his shirt-sleeves, with a cigar in his mouth. Hereceived me pleasantly, and took me home to dinner with him.

  'Mr Mackenzie has written about you,' he said. 'I'll be quite frankwith you, Mr Crawfurd. The firm is not exactly satisfied about the waybusiness has been going lately at Blaauwildebeestefontein. There's agrand country up there, and a grand opportunity for the man who cantake it. Japp, who is in charge, is an old man now and past his best,but he has been long with the firm, and we don't want to hurt hisfeelings. When he goes, which must be pretty soon, you'll have a goodchance of the place, if you show yourself an active young fellow.'

  He told me a great deal more about Blaauwildebeestefontein, principallytrading details. Incidentally he let drop that Mr Japp had had severalassistants in the last few years. I asked him why they had left, andhe hesitated.

  'It's a lonely place, and they didn't like the life. You see, thereare few white men near, and young fellows want society. Theycomplained, and were moved on. But the firm didn't think the more ofthem.'

  I told him I had come out with the new schoolmaster.

  'Yes,' he said reflectively, 'the school. That's been vacant prettyoften lately. What sort of fellow is this Wardlaw? Will he stay, Iwonder?'

  'From all acc
ounts,' I said, 'Blaauwildebeestefontein does not seempopular.'

  'It isn't. That's why we've got you out from home. The colonial-borndoesn't find it fit in with his idea of comfort. He wants society, andhe doesn't like too many natives. There's nothing up there but nativesand a few back-veld Dutchmen with native blood in them. You fellowsfrom home are less set on an easy life, or you wouldn't be here.'

  There was something in Mr Colles's tone which made me risk anotherquestion.

  'What's the matter with the place? There must be more wrong with itthan loneliness to make everybody clear out. I have taken on this job,and I mean to stick to it, so you needn't be afraid to tell me.'

  The manager looked at me sharply. 'That's the way to talk, my lad.You look as if you had a stiff back, so I'll be frank with you. Thereis something about the place. It gives the ordinary man the jumps.What it is, I don't know, and the men who come back don't knowthemselves. I want you to find out for me. You'll be doing the firman enormous service if you can get on the track of it. It may be thenatives, or it may be the takhaars, or it may be something else. Onlyold Japp can stick it out, and he's too old and doddering to care aboutmoving. I want you to keep your eyes skinned, and write privately tome if you want any help. You're not out here for your health, I cansee, and here's a chance for you to get your foot on the ladder.

  'Remember, I'm your friend,' he said to me again at the garden gate.'Take my advice and lie very low. Don't talk, don't meddle with drink,learn all you can of the native jabber, but don't let on you understanda word. You're sure to get on the track of something. Good-bye, myboy,' and he waved a fat hand to me.

  That night I embarked on a cargo-boat which was going round the coastto Delagoa Bay. It is a small world--at least for us far-wanderingScots. For who should I find when I got on board but my old friend TamDyke, who was second mate on the vessel? We wrung each other's hands,and I answered, as best I could, his questions about Kirkcaple. I hadsupper with him in the cabin, and went on deck to see the moorings cast.

  Suddenly there was a bustle on the quay, and a big man with a handbagforced his way up the gangway. The men who were getting ready to castoff tried to stop him, but he elbowed his way forward, declaring hemust see the captain. Tam went up to him and asked civilly if he had apassage taken. He admitted he had not, but said he would make it rightin two minutes with the captain himself. The Rev. John Laputa, forsome reason of his own, was leaving Durban with more haste than he hadentered it.

  I do not know what passed with the captain, but the minister got hispassage right enough, and Tam was even turned out of his cabin to makeroom for him. This annoyed my friend intensely.

  'That black brute must be made of money, for he paid through the nosefor this, or I'm a Dutchman. My old man doesn't take to his blackbrethren any more than I do. Hang it all, what are we coming to, whenwe're turning into a blooming cargo boat for niggers?'

  I had all too little of Tam's good company, for on the afternoon of thesecond day we reached the little town of Lourenco Marques. This was myfinal landing in Africa, and I mind how eagerly I looked at the low,green shores and the bush-covered slopes of the mainland. We werelanded from boats while the ship lay out in the bay, and Tam cameashore with me to spend the evening. By this time I had lost everyremnant of homesickness. I had got a job before me which promisedbetter things than colleging at Edinburgh, and I was as keen to get upcountry now as I had been loth to leave England. My mind being full ofmysteries, I scanned every Portuguese loafer on the quay as if he hadbeen a spy, and when Tam and I had had a bottle of Collates in a cafe Ifelt that at last I had got to foreign parts and a new world.

  Tam took me to supper with a friend of his, a Scot by the name ofAitken, who was landing-agent for some big mining house on the Rand.He hailed from Fife and gave me a hearty welcome, for he had heard myfather preach in his young days. Aitken was a strong, broad-shoulderedfellow who had been a sergeant in the Gordons, and during the war hehad done secret-service work in Delagoa. He had hunted, too, andtraded up and down Mozambique, and knew every dialect of the Kaffirs.He asked me where I was bound for, and when I told him there was thesame look in his eyes as I had seen with the Durban manager.

  'You're going to a rum place, Mr Crawfurd,' he said.

  'So I'm told. Do you know anything about it? You're not the first whohas looked queer when I've spoken the name.'

  'I've never been there,' he said, 'though I've been pretty near it fromthe Portuguese side. That's the funny thing aboutBlaauwildebeestefontein. Everybody has heard of it, and nobody knowsit.'

  'I wish you would tell me what you have heard.'

  'Well, the natives are queer up thereaways. There's some kind of aholy place which every Kaffir from Algoa Bay to the Zambesi and awaybeyond knows about. When I've been hunting in the bush-veld I've oftenmet strings of Kaffirs from hundreds of miles distant, and they've allbeen going or coming from Blaauwildebeestefontein. It's like Mecca tothe Mohammedans, a place they go to on pilgrimage. I've heard of anold man up there who is believed to be two hundred years old. Anyway,there's some sort of great witch or wizard living in the mountains.'

  Aitken smoked in silence for a time; then he said, 'I'll tell youanother thing. I believe there's a diamond mine. I've often meant togo up and look for it.'

  Tam and I pressed him to explain, which he did slowly after his fashion.

  'Did you ever hear of I.D.B.--illicit diamond broking?' he asked me.'Well, it's notorious that the Kaffirs on the diamond fields get awaywith a fair number of stones, and they are bought by Jew and Portuguesetraders. It's against the law to deal in them, and when I was in theintelligence here we used to have a lot of trouble with the vermin.But I discovered that most of the stones came from natives in one partof the country--more or less round Blaauwildebeestefontein--and I seeno reason to think that they had all been stolen from Kimberley or thePremier. Indeed some of the stones I got hold of were quite differentfrom any I had seen in South Africa before. I shouldn't wonder if theKaffirs in the Zoutpansberg had struck some rich pipe, and had thesense to keep quiet about it. Maybe some day I'll take a run up to seeyou and look into the matter.'

  After this the talk turned on other topics till Tam, still nursing hisgrievance, asked a question on his own account. 'Did you ever comeacross a great big native parson called Laputa? He came on board as wewere leaving Durban, and I had to turn out of my cabin for him.' Tamdescribed him accurately but vindictively, and added that 'he was surehe was up to no good.'

  Aitken shook his head. 'No, I don't know the man. You say he landedhere? Well, I'll keep a look-out for him. Big native parsons are notso common.'

  Then I asked about Henriques, of whom Tam knew nothing. I described hisface, his clothes, and his habits. Aitken laughed uproariously.

  'Tut, my man, most of the subjects of his Majesty the King of Portugalwould answer to that description. If he's a rascal, as you think, youmay be certain he's in the I.D.B. business, and if I'm right aboutBlaauwildebeestefontein you'll likely have news of him there some timeor other. Drop me a line if he comes, and I'll get on to his record.'

  I saw Tam off in the boat with a fairly satisfied mind. I was going toa place with a secret, and I meant to find it out. The natives roundBlaauwildebeestefontein were queer, and diamonds were suspectedsomewhere in the neighbourhood.

  Henriques had something to do with the place, and so had the Rev. JohnLaputa, about whom I knew one strange thing. So did Tam by the way,but he had not identified his former pursuer, and I had told himnothing. I was leaving two men behind me, Colles at Durban and Aitkenat Lourenco Marques, who would help me if trouble came. Things wereshaping well for some kind of adventure.

  The talk with Aitken had given Tam an inkling of my thoughts. His lastwords to me were an appeal to let him know if there was any fun going.

  'I can see you're in for a queer job. Promise to let me hear from youif there's going to be a row, and I'll come up country, though
I shouldhave to desert the service. Send us a letter to the agents at Durbanin case we should be in port. You haven't forgotten the Dyve Burn,Davie?'