by Talbot Mundy
Produced by Jake Jaqua
THE IVORY TRAIL
By Talbot Mundy
Author of King--of the Khyber Rifles The Winds of the World Hira Singh etc.
Chapter One
THE NJO HAPA* SONG
Green, ah greener than emeralds are, tree-tops beckon the dhows to land, White, oh whiter than diamonds are, blue waves burst on the amber sand, And nothing is fairer than Zanzibar from the Isles o' the West to the Marquesand.
I was old when the world was wild with youth (All love was lawless then!) Since 'Venture's birth from ends of earth I ha' called the sons of men, And their women have wept the ages out In travail sore to know What lure of opiate art can leach Along bare seas from reef to beach Until from port and river reach The fever'd captains go.
Red, oh redder than red lips are, my flowers nod in the blazing noon, Blue, oh bluer than maidens' eyes, are the breasts o' my waves in the young monsoon, And there are cloves to smell, and musk, and lemon trees, and cinnamon.
---------*The words "Njo hapa" in the Kiswahili tongue are the equivalent of"come hither!"---------
Estimates of ease and affluence vary with the point of view. While hisolder brother lived, Monty had continued in his element, a cavalryofficer, his combined income and pay ample for all that the Bombay sideof India might require of an English gentleman. They say that a finerpolo player, a steadier shot on foot at a tiger, or a bolder squadronleader never lived.
But to Monty's infinite disgust his brother died childless. It isdivulging no secret that the income that passed with the title variedbetween five and seven thousand pounds a year, according as coal washigh, and tenants prosperous or not--a mere miserable pittance, ofcourse, for the Earl of Montdidier and Kirkudbrightshire; so that allhis ventures, and therefore ours, had one avowed end--shekels enough tolift the mortgages from his estates.
Five generations of soldiers had blazed the Montdidier fame onbattle-grounds, to a nation's (and why not the whole earth's) benefit,without replenishing the family funds, and Monty (himself a confirmedand convinced bachelor) was minded when his own time should come topass the title along to the next in line together with sufficient fundsto support its dignity.
To us--even to Yerkes, familiar with United States merchant kings--heseemed with his thirty thousand dollars a year already a gildedCroesus. He had ample to travel on, and finance prospecting trips. Wenever lacked for working capital, but the quest (and, including Yerkes,we were as keen as he) led us into strange places.
So behold him--a privy councilor of England if you please--lounging inthe lazaretto of Zanzibar, clothed only in slippers, underwear and along blue dressing-gown. We three others were dressed the same, andbecause it smacked of official restraint we objected noisily; butMonty did not seem to mind much. He was rather bored, but unresentful.
A French steamer had put us ashore in quarantine, with the grim wordcholera against us, and although our tale of suffering and Monty'srank, insured us a friendly reception, the port health authoritieselected to be strict and we were given a nice long lazy time in whichto cool our heels and order new clothes. (Guns, kit, tents, and allbut what we stood in had gone to the bottom with the German choleraship from whose life-boat the French had rescued us.)
"Keeping us all this time in this place, is sheer tyranny!" grumbledYerkes. "If any one wants my opinion, they're afraid we'd talk if theylet us out--more afraid of offending Germans than they are of cholera!Besides--any fool could know by now we're not sick!"
"There might be something in that," admitted Monty.
"I'd send for the U. S. Consul and sing the song out loud, but foryou!" Yerkes added.
Monty nodded sympathetically.
"Dashed good of you, Will, and all that sort of thing."
"You English are so everlastingly afraid of seeming to start trouble,you'll swallow anything rather than talk!"
"As a government, perhaps yes," admitted Monty. "As a people, I fancynot. As a people we vary."
"You vary in that respect as much as sardines in a can! I traveledonce all the way from London to Glasgow alone in one compartment withan Englishman. Talk? My, we were garrulous! I offered him anewspaper, cigarettes, matches, remarks on the weather suited to hisbrand of intelligence--(that's your sole national topic of talk betweenstrangers!)--and all he ever said to me was 'Haw-ah!' I'll bet he wasafraid of seeming to start trouble!"
"He didn't start any, did he?" asked Monty.
"Pretty nearly he did! I all but bashed him over the bean with thenewspaper the third time he said 'haw-ah!'"
Monty laughed. Fred Oakes was busy across the room with his mostamazing gift of tongues, splicing together half-a-dozen of them inorder to talk with the old lazaretto attendant, so he heard nothing;otherwise there would have been argument.
"Then it would have been you, not he who started trouble,"' said I, andYerkes threw both hands up in a gesture of despair.
"Even you're afraid of starting something!" He stared at both of uswith an almost startled expression, as if he could not believe his ownverdict, yet could not get away from it. "Else you'd give theBundesrath story to the papers! That German skipper's conduct ought tobe bruited round the world! You said you'd do it. You promised us!You told the man to his face you would!"
"Now," said Monty, "you've touched on another national habit."
"Which one?" Yerkes demanded.
"Dislike of telling tales out of school. The man's dead. His ship'sat the bottom. The tale's ended. What's the use? Besides--?"
"Ah! You've another reason! Spill it!"
"As a privy councilor, y'know, and all that sort of thing--?"
"Same story! Afraid of starting something!"
"The Germans--'specially their navy men--drink to what they call DerTag y'know--the day when they shall dare try to tackle England. We allknow that. They're planning war, twenty years from now perhaps, thatshall give them all our colonies as well as India and Egypt. They'reso keen on it they can't keep from bragging. Great Britain, on theother hand, hasn't the slightest intention of fighting if war can beavoided; so why do anything meanwhile to increase the tension? Whysend broadcast a story that would only arouse international hatred?That's their method. Ours--I mean our government's--is to give hatreda chance to die down. If our papers got hold of the Bundesrath storythey'd make a deuce of a noise, of course."
"If your government's so sure Germany is planning war," objectedYerkes, "why on earth not force war, and feed them full of it beforethey're ready?"
"Counsel of perfection," laughed Monty. "Government's responsible tothe Common--Commons to the people--people want peace and plenty. No.Your guess was good. We are in here while the government at homesquares the newspaper men."
"You don't mean to tell me your British government controls the press?"
"Hardly. Seeing 'em--putting it up to 'em straight--asking 'empolitely. They're public-spirited, y'know. Hitting 'em with a clubwould be another thing. It's an easy-going nation, but kings have beensorry they tried force. Did you never hear of a king who used forceagainst American colonies?"
"Good God! So they keep you--an earl--a privy councilor--a retiredcolonel of regulars in good standing--under lock and key in thispest-house while they bribe the press not to tell the truth about someGermans and start trouble?"
"Not exactly" said Monty.
"But here you are!"
"I preferred to remain with my party."
"You moan they'd have let you out and kept us in?"
"They'd have phrased it differently, but that's about what it wouldhave amounted to. I have privileges."
"Well, I'm jiggered!"
"I rather suspect it's not so bad as that," said Monty. "You're withfriends in quarantine, Will!"
For a quarantine station in the tropics it was after all not such a badplace. We could hear the crooning of lazy rollers on the beach, andwhat little sea-breeze moved at all came in to us through iron-barredwindows. The walls were of coral, three feet thick. So was the roof.The wet red-tiled floor made at least an impression of coolness, andthe fresh green foliage of an enormous mango tree, while it obstructedmost of the view, suggested anything but durance vile. From not veryfar away the aromatic smell of a clove warehouse located us, notdisagreeably, at the farther end of one of Sindbad's journeys, and thebirds in the mango branches cried and were colorful with hues and notesof merry extravagance. Zanzibar is no parson's paradise--nor thecenter of much high society. It reeks of unsavory history as well asof spices. But it has its charms, and the Arabs love it.
It had Fred Oakes so interested that he had forgotten hisconcertina--his one possession saved from shipwreck, for which he hadoffered to fight the whole of Zanzibar one-handed rather than have itburned.
("Damnation! it has silver reeds--it's an English top-hole one--awonder!")
So the doctors who are kind men in the main disinfected it twice, onceon the French liner that picked us out of the Bundesrath's boat, andagain in Zanzibar; and with the stench of lord-knew-what zealouschemical upon it he had let it lie unused while he picked up Kiswahiliand talked by the hour to a toothless, wrinkled very black man with atouch of Arab in his breeding, and a deal of it in his brimstonevocabulary.
Presently Fred came over and joined us, dancing across the wide redfloor with the skirts of his gown outspread like a balletdancer's--ridiculous and perfectly aware of it.
"Monty, you're rich! We're all made men! We're all rich! Let's spendmoney! Let's send for catalogues and order things!"
Monty declined to take fire. It was I, latest to join the partnershipand much the least affluent, who bit.
"If you love the Lord, explain!" said I.
"This old one-eyed lazaretto attendant is an ex-slave, ex-accomplice ofTippoo Tib!"
"And Tippoo Tib?" I asked.
"Ignorant fo'castle outcast!" (All that because I had made one voyageas foremast hand, and deserted rather than submit to more of it.)"Tippoo Tib is the Arab--is, mind you, my son, not was--the Arab whowas made governor of half the Congo by H. M. Stanley and the rest of'em. Tippoo Tib is the expert who used to bring the slave caravans toZanzibar--bring 'em, send 'em, send for 'em--he owned 'em anyway.Tippoo Tib was the biggest ivory hunter and trader lived since old KingSolomon! Tippoo Tib is here--in Zanzibar--to all intents and purposesa prisoner on parole--old as the hills--getting ready to die--and proudas the very ace of hell. So says One-eye!"
"So we're all rich?" suggested Monty.
"Of course we are! Listen! The British government took Tippoo'sslaves away and busted his business. Made him come and live in thisplace, go to church on Sundays, and be good. Then they asked him whathe'd done with his ivory. Asked him politely after putting him throughthat mill! One-eye here says Tippoo had a million tusks--amillion!--safely buried! Government offered him ten per cent. of theircash value if he'd tell 'em where, and the old sport spat in theirfaces! Swears he'll die with the secret! One-eye vows Tippoo is theonly one who knows. There were others, but Tippoo shot or poisoned'em."
"So we're rich," smiled Yerkes.
"Of course we are! Consider this, America, and tell me if Standard Oilcan beat it! One million tusks! I'm told--"
"By whom?"
"One-eye says--"
"You'll say 'Oh!' at me to a different tune, before I've done! One-eyesays it never paid to carry a tusk weighing less than sixty pounds.Some tusks weigh two hundred--some even more--took four men to carrysome of 'em! Call it an average weight of one hundred pounds and be onthe safe side."
"Yes, let's play safe," agreed Monty seriously.
"One hundred million pounds of ivory!" said Fred, with a smack of hislips and the air of a man who could see the whole of it. "The presentmarket price of new ivory is over ten shillings a pound on the spot.That'll all be very old stuff, worth at least double. But let's sayten shillings a pound and be on the safe side."
"Yes, let's!" laughed Yerkes.
"One thousand million--a billion shillings!" Fred announced. "Fiftymillion pounds!"
"Two hundred and fifty million dollars!" Yerkes calculated, beginningto take serious notice.
"But how are we to find it?" I objected.
"That's the point. Government 'ud hog the lot, but has hunted high andlow and can't find it. So the offer stands ten per cent. to any onewho does--ten per cent. of fifty million--lowest reckoning, mindyou!--five million pounds! Half for Monty--two and a half million. Amillion for Yerkes, a million for me, and a half a million for you allaccording to contract! How d'you like it?"
"Well enough," I answered. "If its only the hundredth part true, I'menthusiastic!"
"So now suit yourselves!" said Fred, collapsing with a sweep of hisskirts into the nearest chair. "I've told you what One-eye says.These dusky gents sometimes exaggerate of course--"
"Now and then," admitted Monty.
"But where there's smoke you mean there's prob'ly some one smokinghams?" suggested Yerkes.
"I mean, let's find that ivory!" said Fred.
"We might do worse than make an inquiry or two," Monty assentedcautiously.
"Didums, you damned fool, you're growing old! You're wasting time!You're trying to damp enthusiasm! You're--you're--"
"Interested, Fred. I'm interested. Let's--"
"Let's find that ivory and to hell with caution! Why, man alive, it'sthe chance of a million lifetimes!"
"Well, then," said Monty, "admitting the story's true for the sake ofargument, how do you propose to get on the track of the secret?"
"Get on it? I am on it! Didn't One-eye say Tippoo Tib is alive and inZanzibar? The old rascal! Many a slave he's done to death! Many aman he's tortured! I propose we catch Tippoo Tib, hide him, and pullout his toe-nails one by one until be blows the gaff!"
(To hear Fred talk when there is nothing to do but talk a strangermight arrive at many false conclusions.)
"If there's any truth in the story at all," said Monty, "governmentwill have done everything within the bounds of decency to coax thefacts from Tippoo Tib. I suspect we'd have to take our chance andsimply hunt. But let's hear Juma's story."
So the old attendant left off sprinkling water from a yellow jar, andcame and stood before us. Fred's proposal of tweaking toe-nails wouldnot have been practical in his case, for he had none left. His blacklegs, visible because he had tucked his one long garment up about hiswaist, were a mass of scars. He was lean, angular, yet peculiarlystraight considering his years. As he stood before us he let hisshirt-like garment drop, and the change from scarecrow to deferentialservant was instantaneous. He was so wrinkled, and the wrinkles wereso deep, that one scarcely noticed his sightless eye, almost hiddenamong a nest of creases; and in spite of the wrinkles, his polished,shaven head made him look ridiculously youthful because one expectedgray hair and there was none.
"Ask him how he lost his toe-nails, Fred," said I.
But the old man knew enough English to answer for himself. He made awry grimace and showed his hands. The finger-nails were gone too.
"Tell us your story, Juma," said Monty.
"Tell 'em about the pembe--the ivory--the much ivory--the meengipembe," echoed Fred.
"Let's hear about those nails of his first," said I.
"One thing'll prob'ly lead to another," Yerkes agreed. "Start him onthe toe-nail story."
But it did not lead very far. Fred, who had picked up Kiswahili enoughto piece out the old man's broken English, drew him out and clarifiedthe tale. But it only went to prove that others besides ourselves hadheard of Tippoo Tib's hoard. Some white man--we could not make head ortail of the name, but
it sounded rather like Somebody belonging to aman named Carpets--had trapped him a few years before and put him totorture in the belief that he knew the secret.
"But me not knowing nothing!" he assured us solemnly, shaking his headagain and again.
But he was not in the least squeamish about telling us that Tippoo Tibhad surely buried huge quantities of ivory, and had caused to be slainafterward every one who shared the secret.
"How long ago?" asked Monty. But natives of that part of the earth arepoor hands at reckoning time.
"Long time," he assured us. He might have meant six years, or sixty.It would have been all the same to him.
"No. Me not liking Tippoo Tib. One time his slave. That bad. Byumbyset free. That good. Now working here. This very good."
"Where do you think the ivory is?" (This from Yerkes.)
But the old man shook his head.
"As I understand it," said Monty, "slaves came mostly from the Congoside of Lake Victoria Nyanza. Slave and elephant country wereapproximately the same as regards general direction, and there were tworoutes from the Congo--the southern by way of Ujiji on Tanganyika toBagamoyo on what is now the German coast, and the other to the north ofVictoria Nyanza ending at Mombasa. Ask him, Fred, which way the ivoryused to come."
"Both ways," announced Juma without waiting for Fred to interpret. Hehad an uncanny trick of following conversation, his intelligenceseeming to work by fits and starts.
"That gives us about half Africa for hunting-ground, and a job forlife!" laughed Yerkes.
"Might have a worse!" Fred answered, resentful of cold water thrown onhis discovery.
"Were you Tippoo Tib's slave when he buried the ivory?" demanded Monty,and the old man nodded.
"Where were you at the time?"
Juma made a gesture intended to suggest immeasurable distances towardthe West, and the name of the place he mentioned was one we had neverheard of.
"Can you take us to Tippoo Tib when we leave this place?" I asked, andhe nodded again.
"How much ivory do you suppose there was?" asked Yerkes.
"Teli, teli!" he answered, shaking his head.
"Too much!" Fred translated.
"Pretty fair to middling vague," said Yerkes,"but"--judicially--"almost worth investigating!"
"Investigating?" Fred sprang from his chair. "It's better than allKing Solomon's mines, El Dorado, Golconda, and Sindbad the Sailor'streasure lands--rolled in one! It's an obviously good thing! All weneed is a bit of luck and the ivory's ours!"
"I'll sell you my share now for a thousand dollars--come--come across!"grinned Yerkes.
There was a rough-house after that. He and Fred nearly pulled the oldattendant in two, each claiming the right to torture him first andlearn the secret. They ended up without a whole rag between them, andhad to send Juma to head-quarters for new blue dressing-gowns. Thedoctor came himself--a fat good-natured party with an eye-glass and acocktail appetite, acting locum-tenens for the real official who washome on leave. He brought the ingredients for cocktails with him.
"Yes," he said, shaking the mixer with a sort of deft solicitude."There's more than something in the tale. I've had a try myself to getdetails. Tippoo Tib believes in up-to-date physic, and when the oldrascal's sick he sends for me. I offered to mix him an elixir of lifethat would make him out-live Methuselah if he'd give me as much as ahint of the general direction of his cache."
"He ought to have fallen for that," said Yerkes, but the doctor shookhis head.
"He's an Arab. They're Shiah Muhammedans. Their Paradise is apleasant place from all accounts. He advised me to drink my ownelixir, and have lots and lots of years in which to find the ivory,without being beholden to him for help. Wily old scaramouch! But Ihad a better card up my sleeve. He has taken to discarding ancientprejudices--doesn't drink or anything like that, but treats his haremalmost humanly. Lets 'em have anything that costs him nothing. Evensends for a medico when they're sick! Getting lax in his old age!Sent for me a while ago to attend his favorite wife--sixty years old ifshe's a day, and as proud of him as if he were the king of Jerusalem.Well--I looked her over, judged she was likely to keep her bed, and didsome thinking."
"You know their religious law? A woman can't go to Paradise withoutspecial intercession, mainly vicarious. I found a mullah--that's aMuhammedan priest--who'd do anything for half of nothing. They most ofthem will. I gave him fifty dibs, and promised him more if the trickworked. Then I told the old woman she was going to die, but that ifshe'd tell me the secret of Tippoo Tib's ivory I had a mullah handy whowould pass her into Paradise ahead of her old man. What did she do?She called Tippoo Tib, and he turned me out of the house. So I'm fiftyout of pocket, and what's worse, the old girl didn't die--got right upout of bed and stayed up! My rep's all smashed to pieces among theArabs!"
"D'you suppose the old woman knew the secret?" I asked.
"Not she! If she'd known it she'd have split! The one ambition shehas left is to be with Tippoo Tib in Paradise. But he can intercedefor her and get her in--provided he feels that way; so she rounded onme in the hope of winning his special favor! But the old ruffian knowsbetter! He'll no more pray for her than tell me where the ivory is!The Koran tells him there are much better houris in Paradise, so whytrouble to take along a toothless favorite from this world?"
"Has the government any official information?" asked Monty.
"Quite a bit, I'm told. Official records of vain searches. Betweenyou and me and these four walls, about the only reason why they didn'thang the old slave-driving murderer was that they've always hoped he'ddivulge the secret some day. But he hates the men who broke him fartoo bitterly to enrich them on any terms! If any man wins the secretfrom him it'll be a foreigner. They tell me a German had a hard tryonce. One of Karl Peters' men."
"That'll be Carpets!" said Monty. "Somebody belonging to Carpets--KarlPeters."
"The man's serving a life sentence in the jail for torturing our friendJuma here."
"Then Juma knows the secret?"
"So they say. But Juma, too, hopes to go to Paradise and wait onTippoo Tib."
"He told us just now that he dislikes Tippoo Tib," I objected.
"So he does, but that makes no difference. Tippoo Tib is a bigchief--sultani kubwa--take any one he fancies to Heaven with him!"
We all looked at Juma with a new respect.
"I got Juma his job in here," said the doctor. "I've rather the notionof getting my ten per cent. on the value of that ivory some day!"
"Are there any people after it just now?" asked Monty.
"I don't know, I'm sure. There was a German named Schillingschen, whospent a month in Zanzibar and talked a lot with Tippoo Tib. The oldrascal might tell his secret to any one he thought was England's reallydangerous enemy. Schillingschen crossed over to British East if Iremember rightly. He might be on the track of it."
"Tell us more about Schillingschen," said Monty.
"He's one of those orientalists, who profess to know more about Islamthan Christianity--more about Africa and Arabia than Europe--more aboutthe occult than what's in the open. A man with a shovelbeard--stout--thick-set--talks Kiswahili and Arabic and half a dozenother languages better than the natives do themselves. Hasmoney--outfit like a prince's--everythingimaginable--Rifles--microscopes--cigars--wine. He didn't make himselfagreeable here--except to the Arabs. Didn't call at the Residency.Some of us asked him to dinner one evening, but he pleaded a headache.We were glad, because afterward we saw him eat at the hotel--has waysof using his fingers at table, picked up I suppose from the people hehas lived among."
"Are you nearly ready to let us out of here?" asked Monty.
"Your quarantine's up," said the doctor. "I'm only waiting for wordfrom the office."
We drank three rounds of cocktails with him, after which he grew darklyfriendly and proposed we should all set out together in search of thehoard.
"I've no money," he assured us. "Nothing but a kn
owledge of thenatives and a priceless thirst. I'd have to throw up my practise here.Of course I'd need some sort of guarantee from you chaps."
The proposal falling flat, he gathered the nearly empty bottles intoone place and shouted for his boy to come and carry them away.
"Think it over!" he urged as he got up to leave us. "You might take abigger fool than me with you. You'd need a doctor on a trip like that.I'm an expert on some of these tropical diseases. Think it over!"
"Fred!" said Monty, as soon as the doctor had left the room, "I'mtempted by this ivory of yours."
But Fred, in the new blue dressing-gown the doctor had brought, was inanother world--a land of trope and key and metaphor. For the last tenminutes he had kept a stub of pencil and a scrap of paper working, andnow the strident tones of his too long neglected concertina stirred theheavy air and shocked the birds outside to silence. The instrument waswheezy, for in addition to the sacrilege the port authorities had doneby way of disinfection, the bellows had been wetted when Fred plungedfrom the sinking Bundesrath and swam. But he is not what you couldcall particular, as long as a good loud noise comes forth that can bejerked and broken into anything resembling tune.
"Tempted, are you?" he laughed. He looked like a drunken troubadour endeshabille, with those up-brushed mustaches and his usually neat brownbeard all spread awry. "Temptation's more fun than plunder!"
Yerkes threw an orange at him, more by way of recognition thanremonstrance. We had not heard Fred sing since he tried to charmcholera victims in the Bundesrath's fo'castle, and, like the rest ofus, he had his rights. He sang with legs spread wide in front of him,and head thrown back, and, each time he came to the chorus, kept onrepeating it until we joined in.
There's a prize that's full familiar from Zanzibar to France; From Tokio to Boston; we are paid it in advance. It's the wages of adventure, and the wide world knows the feel Of the stuff that stirs good huntsmen all and brings the hounds to heel! It's the one reward that's gratis and precedes the toilsome task-- It's the one thing always better than an optimist can ask! It's amusing, it's amazing, and it's never twice the same; It's the salt of true adventure and the glamour of the game!
CHORUS It is tem-tem-pitation! The one sublime sensation! You may doubt it, but without it There would be no derring-do! The reward the temptee cashes Is too often dust and ashes, But you'll need no spurs or lashes When temptation beckons you!
Oh, it drew the Roman legions to old Britain's distant isle, And it beckoned H. M. Stanley to the sources of the Nile; It's the one and only reason for the bristling guns at Gib, For the skeletons at Khartoum, and the crimes of Tippoo Tib. The gentlemen adventurers braved torture for its sake, It beckoned out the galleons, and filled the hulls of Drake! Oh, it sets the sails of commerce, and it whets the edge of war, It's the sole excuse for churches, and the only cause of law!
CHORUS It is tem-tem-pitation! etc., etc. No note is there of failure (that's a tune the croakers sing!) This song's of youth, and strength, and health, and time that's on the wing! Of wealth beyond the hazy blue of far horizons flung-- But never of the folk returning, disillusioned, stung! It's a tale of gold and ivory, of plunder out of reach, Of luck that fell to other men, of treasure on the beach-- A compound, cross-reciprocating two-way double spell, The low, sweet lure to Heaven, and the tallyho to hell!
CHORUS It is tem-tem-pitation! The one sublime sensation! You may doubt it, but without it There would be no derring-do! It's the siren of to-morrow That knows naught of lack or sorrow, So you'll sell your bonds and borrow, When temptation beckons you!
Once Fred starts there is no stopping him, short of personal violence,and he ran through his ever lengthening list of songs, not all quiteprintable, until the very coral walls ached with the concertina'swailing, and our throats were hoarse from ridiculous choruses. AsYerkes put it:
"When pa says sing, the rest of us sing too or go crazy!"
I went to the window and tried to get a view of shipping through themango branches. Masts and sails--lateen spars particularly--always getme by the throat and make me happy for a while. But all I could seewas a low wall beyond the little compound, and over the top of itheadgear of nearly all the kinds there are. (Zanzibar is a wonderfulmarket for second-hand clothes. There was even a tall silk hat of notvery ancient pattern.)
"Come and look, Monty!" said I, and he and Yerkes came and stood besideme. Seeing his troubadour charm was broken, Fred snapped the catch onthe concertina and came too.
"Arabian Nights!" he exclaimed, thumping Monty on the back.
"Didums, you drunkard, we're dead and in another world! Juma is theone-eyed Calender! Look--fishermen--houris--how many houris?--seen 'emgrin!--soldiers of fortune--merchants--sailors--by gad, there's Sindbadhimself!--and say! If that isn't the Sultan Haroun-al-Raschid indisguise I'm willing to eat beans and pie for breakfast to obligeYerkes! Look--look at the fat ruffian's stomach and swagger, will you?"
Yerkes sized up the situation quickest.
"Sing him another song, Fred. If we want to strike up acquaintancewith half Zanzibar, here's our chance!"
"Oh, Richard, oh, my king!" hummed Monty. "It's Coeur de Lion andBlondell over again with the harp reversed."
If Zanzibar may be said to possess main thoroughfares, that window ofours commanded as much of one as the tree and wall permitted; andmusic--even of a concertina--is the key to the heart of all peoplewhose hair is crisp and kinky. Perhaps rather owing to the generosityof their slave law, and Koran teachings, more than to racial depravity,there are not very many Arabs left in that part of the world with truesemitic features and straight hair, nor many woolly-headed folk who arequite all-Bantu. There is enough Arab blood in all of them to makethem bold; Bantu enough for syncopated, rag-time music to take them bythe toes and stir them. The crowd in the street grew, and gathereduntil a policeman in red fez and khaki knickerbockers came and startedtrouble. He had a three-cornered fight on his hands, and no sympathyfrom any one, within two minutes. Then the man with the stomach andswagger--he whom Fred called Haroun-al-Raschid--took a hand in masterlystyle. He seized the police-man from behind, flung him out of thecrowd, and nobody was troubled any more by that official.
"That him Tippoo Tib's nephew!" said a voice, and we all jumped. Wehad not noticed Juma come and stand beside us.
"I suspect nephew is a vague relationship in these parts," said Monty."Do you mean Tippoo's brother was that man's father, Juma?"
"No, bwana.* Tippoo Tib bringing slave long ago f'm Bagamoyo. Himshe-slave having chile. She becoming concubine Tippoo Tib his wife'sbrother. That chile Tippoo Tib's nephew. Tea ready, bwana."
-----------------* Bwana, Swahili word meaning master.-----------------
"What does that man do for a living?"
"Do for a living?" Juma was bewildered.
"What does he work at?"
"Not working."
"Never?"
"No.
"Has he private means, then?"
"I not understand. Tea ready, bwana!"
"Has he got mali*?" Fred demanded.
"Mali? No. Him poor man."
--------------*Mali, Swahili word meaning possession, property.--------------
"Then how does he exist, if he has no mali and doesn't work?"
"Oh, one wife here, one there, one other place, an'Tippoo Tib byumby him giving food."
"How many wives has he?"
"Tea ready, bwana!"
"How do they come to be spread all over the place?" (We were shootingquestions at him one after the other, and Juma began to look as if hewould have preferred a repetition of the toe-nail incident.)
"Oh, he travel much, an' byumby lose all
money, then stay here. Tea,him growing cold."
There is no persuading the native servant who has lived under the UnionJack that an Englishman does not need hot tea at frequent intervals,even after three cocktails in an afternoon. So we trooped to the tableto oblige him, and went through the form of being much refreshed.
"What is that man's name?" demanded Monty.
"Hassan."
"Do you know him?"
"Everybody know him!"
"Can you get a message to him?"
"Yes, bwana."
"Tell him to come and talk with us at the hotel as soon as he hears weare out of this."
We did not know it at the time (for I don't think that Monty guessed iteither) that we had taken the surest way of setting all Zanzibar by theears. In that last lingering stronghold of legal slavery,* where theonly stories judged worth listening to are the very sources of theThousand Nights and a Night, intrigue is not perhaps the breath oflife, but it is the salt and savory. There is a woolly-headed sultanwho draws a guaranteed, fixed income and has nothing better to do thanregale himself and a harem with western alleged amusement. There arepolice, and lights, and municipal regulations. In fact, Zanzibar hascome on miserable times from certain points of view. But there remainsthe fun of listening to all the rumors borne by sea. "Play on theflute in Zanzibar and Africa as far as the lakes will dance!" the Arabssay, and the gentry who once drove slaves or traded ivory refuse tobelieve that the day of lawlessness is gone forever. One rumor then isworth ten facts. Four white men singing behind the bars of thelazaretto, desiring to speak with Hassan, "'nephew" of Tippoo Tib, andoffering money for the introduction, were enough to send whisperssizzling up and down all the mazy streets.
----------------* Slavery was not absolutely and finally abolished in Zanzibar until1906, during which year even the old slaves, hitherto unwilling to beset free, had to be pensioned off.----------------
Our release from quarantine took place next day, and we went to thehotel, where we were besieged at once by tradesmen, each proclaiminghimself the only honest outfitter and "agent for all good exportfirms." Monty departed to call on British officialdom (one advantageof traveling with a nobleman being that he has to do the stilted socialstuff). Yerkes went to call on the United States Consul, the same beingpresumably a part of his religion, for he always does it, and almostalways abuses his government afterward. So Fred and I were left torepel boarders, and it came about that we two received Hassan.
He entered our room with a great shout of "Hodi!" (and Fred knew enoughto say "Karibu!")--a smart red fez set at an angle on his shaven head,his henna-stained beard all newly-combed--a garment like a night-shirtreaching nearly to his heels, a sort of vest of silk embroideryrestraining his stomach's tendency to wobble at will, and a fat smiledecorating the least ashamed, most obviously opportunist face I eversaw, even on a black man.
"Jambo, jambo;"* he announced, striding in and observing our lack ofworldly goods with one sweep of the eye. (We had not stocked up yetwith new things, and probably he did not know our old ones were at thebottom of the sea.) He was a lion-hearted rascal though, at all eventsat the first rush, for poverty on the surface did not trouble him.
---------------* Jambo, good day.---------------
"You send for me? You want a good guide?"
The Haroun-al-Raschid look had disappeared. Now he was thejack-of-all-trades, wondering which end of the jack to push in first.
"When I need a guide I'll get a licensed one," said Fred, sitting downand turning partly away from him. (It never pays to let those gentrythink they have impressed you.) "What is your business, Johnson?"
"My name Hassan, sah. You send for me? You want a headman. I'mformerly headman for Tippoo Tib, knowing all roads, and how to managewapagazi,* safari,** all things!"
---------------* Wapagazi, plural of pagazi, porter.** Safari, journey, and, by inference, outfit for a journey.---------------
"Any papers to prove it?" asked Fred.
"No, sir. Reference to Tippoo Tib himself sufficient! He mypart-uncle."
"Ready to tell any kind of a lie for you, eh?"
"No, sir, always telling truth! You got a cook yet?"
"Can you cook?" Fred answered guardedly.
"Yes, sah. Was cook formerly for Master Stanley, go with him onexpedition. Later his boy. Later his headman. You want to go onexpedition, I getting you good cook. Where you want to go?"
"Are you looking for a job?" asked Fred.
"What you after? Ivory?"
"Maybe."
"I know all about ivory--I shoot, trade ivory along o' Tippoo Tib an'Stanley. You engage my services, all very well."
"Go and tell Tippoo Tib we want to see him. If he confirms what yousay, perhaps we'll take you on," said Fred.
"Tell Tippoo Tib? Ha-ha! You want to find his buried ivory--that it?All white men wanting that! All right, I go tell him! I come again!"
"Come back here, you fat rascal!" ordered Fred. "What do you meanabout buried ivory? What buried ivory?"
Hassan's face lost some of its transcendent cheek. Even the dyed beardseemed to wilt.
"What you wanting?" he asked. "Hunt, trade, travel--what yourbusiness?"
"Fish!" Fred answered genially.
"Samaki?"
"Yes--samaki--fish!"
Having no experience of Arabs, and part-Arabs, I wondered what on earthFred could be driving at. But Hassan wondered still more, and that wasthe whole point. He stood agape, looking from one to the other of us,his fat good-natured face an interrogation mark.
"I go an' tell bwana Tippoo Tib!" he announced, and departed swiftly.
"What's the idea of fish, Fred?" I asked.
"Oh, just curiosity. The way of getting information out of coloredfolk is to get them so frantically curious they've no time to think uplies. Tobacco would have done as well--anything unexpected. A birdflying, and a black man lying,--are both of 'em easy to catch orconfuse unless they know which way they're heading. Let's go and lookat the bazaar."
But in order to look one had to reach. We left the great heavy-beamedhotel that had once been Tippoo Tib's residence, but were stopped inthe outer doorway by a crowd of native boys, each with a brass plate onhis arm.
"Guide, sah!--Guide, sah!--My name 'McPhairson, sah!--My name Jones,sah!--My name Johnson, sah! Guide to all the sights, sah!"
They were as persistent and evilly intentioned as a swarm of flies, andbold enough to strike back when anybody kicked them. While we wrestledand swore, but made no headway, we were accosted by a Greek, who seemedfrom long experience able to pass through them without striking orbeing struck. We were not left in doubt another second as to whetherour friend Hassan had dallied on the way, and held his tongue or not.
"Good day, gentlemen! I hear you are after fish! Hah! That is a goodstory to tell to Arabs! You mean fishing for information, eh? Ha-hah!"
He turned on the swarm of boys, who still yelled and struggled aboutour legs.
"Imshi!* Voetsak!** Enenda zako!*** Kuma nina, wewe!****" In a minutehe had them all scattering, for only innocence and inexperience attractthe preying youth of Zanzibar. "Now, gentlemen, my name isCoutlass--Georges Coutlass. Have a drink with me, and let me tell yousomething."
-----------------* Imshi (Arabic), get to hell out of here!** Voetsak (Cape Dutch), ditto.*** Enenda zako (Kiswahill), ditto.**** Kuma nina (Kiswahill). An opprobrious, and perhaps the commonestexpletive In the language, amounting to a request for details of theobjurgee's female ancestry. By no means for use in drawing-rooms.------------------
He was tall, dark skinned, athletic, and roguish-looking even for thebrand of Greek one meets with south of the Levant--dressed in khaki,with an American cowboy hat--his fingers nearly black with cigarettejuice--his hands unusually horny for that climate--and his hairclipped so short that it showed the bumps of avarice and other things,said to reside below the hat-band to the rear. Yet a plausible,companionable-seeming man.
And Zanzibar confers democratic privilege,as well as fevers; impartiality hovers in the atmosphere as well assmells, and we neither of us dreamed of hesitating, but followed himback into the bar--a wide, low-ceilinged room whose beams were two feetthick of blackened, polished hard wood. There we sat one each side ofhim in cane armchairs. He ordered the drinks, and paid for them.
"First I will tell you who I am," he said, when he had swallowed afoot-long whisky peg and wiped his lips with his coat sleeve. "I neverboast. I don't need to! I am Georges Coutlass! I learned that youhave an English lord among your party, and said I to myself 'Aha!There is a man who will appreciate me, who am a citizen of threelands!' Which of you gentlemen is the lord?"
"How can you be a citizen of three countries?" Fred countered.
"Of Greece, for I was born in Greece. I have fought Turks. Ah! Ihave bled for Greece. I have spilt my blood in many lands, but thebest was for my motherland!--Of England, for I became naturalized. Bybloody-hell-and-Waterloo, but I admire the English! They have guts,those English, and I am one of them! By the great horn spoon, yes, Ibecame an Englishman at Bow Street one Monday morning, price FivePounds. I was lined up with the drunks and pick-pockets, and by Jumbothe magistrate mistook me for a thief! He would have given me sixmonths without the option in another minute, but I had the good luck toremember how much money I had paid my witnesses. The thought of payingthat for nothing--worse than nothing, for six months in jail!--in anEnglish jail!--pick oakum!--eat skilly!--that thought brought me to mysenses. 'By Gassharamminy,' I said, 'I may be mad, but I'm sober! Ifit's a crime to desire to be English, then punish me, but let me firstcommit the offense!' So he laughed, and didn't question my witnessesvery carefully--one was a Jew, the other an ex-German, and either ofthem would swear to anything at half price for a quantity--and theykissed the Book and committed perjury--and lo and behold, I was Englishas you are--English without troubling a midwife or the parson! Fivepounds for the 'beak' at Bow Street--fifty for thewitnesses--fifty-five all told--and cheap at the price! I had money inthose days. It was after our short war with Turkey. We Greeks gotbeaten, but the Turks did not get all the loot! By prison and gallows,no! When our men ran before a battle, I did not run--not I! Iremained, and by Croesus I grew richer in an hour than I have ever beensince!"
"That's two countries," said I. "Which is the third that has the honorto claim your allegiance?"
"Honor is right!" he answered with a proud smile. "I, Georges Coutlass,have honored three flags! I am a credit to all three countries! Thethird is America--the U. S. A. You might say that is the corollary ofbeing English--the natural, logical, correct sequence! The U. S. lawsare strict, but their politics were devised for--what is it thepreachers call it--ah, yes, for straining out gnats and swallowingcamels. By George Washington they would swallow a house on fire!There was a federal election shortly due. One of theparties--Democratic--Republican--I forget which--maybe both!--needednew voters. The law says it takes five years to become a citizen.Politics said fifteen minutes! The politicians paid the fees too! Iwas a citizen--a voter--an elector of presidents before I had beenashore three months, and I had sold my vote three times over within amonth of that! They had me registered under three names in threeseparate wards! I didn't need the money--I had plenty in those days--Igave the six dollars I received for my votes to the Holy Church, andvoted the other way to save my conscience; but the fun of the thingappealed! By Gassharamminy! I can't take life the way the copy-bookslay down! I have to break laws or else break heads! But I loveAmerica! I fought and bled for America! By Abraham Lincoln, I foughtthose Spaniards until I don't doubt they wished I had stayed in Greece!Yes, I left that middle finger in Cuba--shot through the left hand bya Don, think of it, a Don! When I came out of hospital--and I neversaw anything worse than that hot hell!--I got myself attached to thecommissariat, and the pickings were none so bad. Had to hand over toomuch, though. That is the worst of America, there is no genuineliberty. You have to steal for the man higher up. If you keep morethan ten per cent., he squeals. He has to pass most of it on again tosome one else, and so on, and they all land in jail in course of time!Give me a country where a man can keep what he finds! There was talkabout congressional inquiries. Then a friend of mine--a Greek--who hadbeen out here told me of Tippoo Tib's ivory, and it looked all right tome to change scenes for a while. I had citizenship papers--U. S., andEnglish, and a Greek passport in case of accident. Traveling lookedgood to me."
"If you traveled on a Greek passport you couldn't use citizenshippapers of any other country," Fred objected.
"Who said I traveled on a Greek passport? Do you take me for such afool? Who listens to a Greek consul? He may protest, and accept fees,but Greece is a little country and no one listens to her consuls. Icarry a Greek passport in case I should find somewhere someday a Greekconsul with influence or a Greek whom I wish to convince. I traveledto South Africa as an American. I went to Cape Town with the idea ofgoing to Salisbury, and working my way up from there as a trader intothe Congo. I reached Johannesburg, and there I did a little I. D. B.and one thing and another until the Boer War came. Then I fought forthe Boers. Yes, I have bled for the Boer cause. It was a damned badcause! They robbed me of nearly all my money! They left me to diewhen I was wounded! It was only by the grace of God, and the intriguesof a woman that I made my way to Lourenco Marquez. No, the war was notover, but what did I care? I, Georges Coutlass, had had enough of it!I recompensed myself en route. I do not fight for a bunch of thievesfor nothing! I sailed from Lourenco Marquez to Mombasa. I huntedelephant in British East Africa until they posted a reward for me onthe telegraph poles. The law says not more than two elephants in oneyear. I shot two hundred! I sold the ivory to an Indian, boughtcattle, and went down into German East Africa. The Masai attacked me,stole some of the cattle, and killed others. The Germans, damn andblast them, took the rest! They accused me of crimes--me, GeorgesCoutlass!--and imposed fines calculated carefully to skin me of all Ihad! Roup and rotten livers! but I will knock them head-over-hallelujaone fine day! Not for nothing shall they flim-flam Georges Coutlass!Which of you gentlemen is the lord?"
We bought him another drink, and watched it disappear with oneuninterrupted gurgle down its appointed course.
"What did you do next?" Fred asked him before he had recovered breathenough to question us. "I suppose the Germans had you at a loose end?"
"Do you think that? Sacred history of hell! It takes more than alousy military German to get Georges Coutlass at a loose end! Theymust get me dead before that can happen! And then, by Blitzen, asthose devils say, a dead Georges Coutlass will be better than athousand dead Germans! In hell I will use them to clean my boots on!At a loose end, was I? I met this bloody rogue Hassan--the fatblackguard who told me you have come to Zanzibar for fish--and made anagreement with him to look for Tippoo Tib's buried ivory. Yes, sir! Ishowed him papers. He thought they were money drafts. He thought me aman of means whom he could bleed. I had guns and ammunition, he none.He pretended to know where some of Tippoo Tib's ivory is buried."
"Some of it, eh?" said Fred.
"Some of it, d'you say?" said I.
"Some of it, yes. A million tusks. Some say two million! Some saythree! Thunder!--you take a hundred good tusks and bury them; you'llsee the hill you've made from five miles off! A hundred thousand tuskswould make a mountain! If any one buried a million tusks in one spotthey'd mark the place on maps as a watershed! They must be buriedhere, there, everywhere along the trail of Tippoo Tib--perhaps athousand in one place at the most. Which of you two gentlemen is thelord?"
"Did Hassan lead you to any of it?" Fred inquired.
"Not he! The jelly-belly! The Arab pig! He led me to Ujiji--that'son Lake Tanganika--the old slave market where he himself was once soldfor ten cents. I don't doubt a piece of betel nut and a pair ofworn-out shoes had to be thrown in with him at the price! There hetried to make me pay the expenses in
advance of a trip to Usumbora atthe head of the lake. God knows what it would have cost, the way hewanted me to do it! Are you the lord, sir?"
"What did you do?" asked Fred.
"Do? I parted company! I had made him drunk once. (The Arabs aren'tsupposed to drink, so when they do they get talkative and lively!) AndI knew Arabic before ever I crossed the Atlantic--learned it inEgypt--ran away from a sponge-fishing boat when I was a boy. No, theydon't fish sponges off the Nile Delta, but you can smuggle in a spongeboat better than in most ships. Anyhow, I learned Arabic. So Iunderstood what that pig Hassan said when he talked in the dark withhis brother swine. He knew no more than I where the ivory was! Hesuspected most of it was in a country called Ruanda that runs prettymuch parallel with the Congo border to the west of Victoria Nyanza inGerman East Africa, and he was counting on finding natives who couldtell him this and that that might put him on the trail of it! I couldbeat that game! I could cross-examine fool natives twice as well asany fat rascal of an ex-slave! Seeing he had paid all expenses so far,however, I was not much to the bad, so I picked a quarrel with him andwe parted company. Wouldn't you have done the same, my lord?"
But Fred did not walk into the trap. "What did you do next?" he asked.
"Next? I got a job with the agent of an Italian firm to go north andbuy skins. He made me a good advance of trade goods--melikani,* beads,iron and brass wire, kangas,** and all that sort of thing, and I didwell. Made money on that trip. Traveled north until I reachedRuanda--went on until I could see the Fire Mountains in the distance,and the country all smothered in lava. Reached a cannibal country,where the devils had eaten all the surrounding tribes until they had totake to vegetarianism at last."
-----------------* Melikani, the unbleached calico made in America that is the mostuseful trade goods from sea to sea of Central Africa.** Kanga, cotton piece goods.-----------------
"But did you find the ivory?" Fred insisted.
"No, or by Jiminy, I wouldn't be here! If I'd found it I'd havesettled down with a wife in Greece long ago. I'd be keeping an inn,and growing wine, and living like a gentleman! But I found out enoughto know there's a system that goes with the ivory Tippoo Tib buried.If you found one lot, that would lead you to the next, and so on. Igot a suspicion where one lot is, although I couldn't prove it. And Imade up my mind that the German government knows darned well where alot of it is!"
"Then why don't the Germans dig it up?" demanded Fred.
"Aha!" laughed Coutlass. "If I know, why should I tell! If they know,why should they tell? Suppose that some of it were in Congo territory,and some in British East Africa? Suppose they should want to get thelot? What then? If they uncovered their bit in German East Africamightn't that put the Congo and the British on the trail?"
"If they know where it is," said I, "they'll certainly guard it."
"Which of you is the lord?" demanded Coutlass earnestly.
"What do you suppose Hassan is doing, then, here in Zanzibar?" askedFred.
"Rum and eggs! I know what he is doing! When I snapped my thumb underhis fat nose and told him about the habits of his female ancestors bewent to the Germans and informed against me! The sneak-thief! Theturn-coat! The maggot! I shall not forget! I, Georges Coutlass,forget nothing! He informed against me, and they set askaris* on mytrail who prevented me from making further search. I had to sit idlein Usumbura or Ujiji, or else come away; and idleness ill suits myblood! I came here, and Hassan followed me. The Germans made aregular, salaried spy of him--the semi-Arab rat! The one-tenth Arab,nine-tenths mud-rat! Here he stays in Zanzibar and spies on TippooTib, on me, on the British government, and on every stranger who comeshere. His information goes to the Germans. I know, for I interceptedsome of it! He writes it out in Arabic, and provided no woman goesthrough the folds of his clothes or feels under that silken belly-piecebe wears, the Germans get it. But if a woman does, and she's a friendof mine, that's different! Are you the lord, sir?"
------------------* Askari, native soldier.------------------
"What do you propose?" asked Fred.
"Help me find that ivory!" said Coutlass. "I have very little moneyleft, but I have guns, and courage! I know where to look, and I am notafraid! No German can scare me! I am English-American-Greek!--betterthan any hundred Germans! Let us find the ivory, and share it! Let usget it out through British territory, or the Congo, so that no Germansausage can interfere with us or take away one tusk! Gee-rusalem, howI hate the swine. Let us put one over on them! Let us get the ivoryto Europe, and then flaunt the deed under their noses! Let us send onelittle tip of a female tusk to the Kaiser for a souvenir--female inproof it is all illegitimate, illegal, outlawed! Let us send him apiece of ivory and a letter telling him all about it, and what we thinkof him and his swine-officials! His lieutenants and his captains! Letus smuggle the ivory out through the Congo--it can be done! It can bedone! I, Georges Coutlass, will find the ivory, and find the way!"
"No need to smuggle it out," said Fred. "The British government willgive us ten per cent., or so I understand, of the value of all of it wefind in British East."
Georges Coutlass threw back his head and roared with laughter, slappedhis thighs, held his sides--then coughed for two or three minutes, andspat blood.
"You are the lord, all right!" he gasped as soon as he could getbreath. "No need to smuggle it! Ha-ha! May I be damned! Ten percent. they'll give us! Ha-ha! Generous! By whip and wheel! they'relucky if we give them five per cent.! I'd like to see any governmenttake away from Georges Coutlass ninety per cent. of anything without afight! No, gentlemen! No, my Lord! The Belgian Congo government iscorrupt. Let us spend twenty-five per cent.--even thirty-forty-fiftyper cent. of the value of it to bribe the Congo officials. Hand overninety per cent. to the Germans or the British without a fight?--Never!Never while my name is Georges Coutlass! I have fought too often! Ihave been robbed by governments too often! This last time I will putit over all the governments, and be rich at last, and go home to Greeceto live like a gentleman! Believe me!"
He patted himself on the breast, and if flashing eye and frothing lipwent for anything, then all the governments were as good as defeatedalready.
"You are the lord, are you not?" he demanded, looking straight at Fred.
"My name is Oakes," Fred answered.
"Oh, then you? I beg pardon!" He looked at me with surprise that hemade no attempt to conceal. Fred could pass for a king with thatpointed beard of his (provided he were behaving himself seemly at thetime) but for all my staid demeanor I have never been mistaken for anykind of personage. I disillusioned Coutlass promptly.
"Then you are neither of you lords?"
"Pish! We're obviously ladies!" answered Fred.
"Then you have fooled me?" The Greek rose to his feet. "You havedeceived me? You have accepted my hospitality and confidence underfalse pretense?"
I think there would have been a fight, for Fred was never the man toaccept brow-beating from chance-met strangers, and the Greek's fieryeye was rolling in fine frenzy; but just at that moment Yerkesstrolled in, cheerful and brisk.
"Hullo, fellers! This is some thirsty burg. Do they sell soft drinksin this joint?" he inquired.
"By Brooklyn Bridge!" exclaimed Coutlass. "An American! I, too, am anAmerican! Fellow-citizen, these men have treated me badly! They havetricked me!"
"You must be dead easy!" said Yerkes genially. "If those two wanted tolive at the con game, they'd have to practise on the juniorkindergarten grades. They're the mildest men I know. I let that onewith the beard hold my shirt and pants when I go swimming! Trickedyou, have they? Say--have you got any money left?"
"Oh, have a drink!" laughed the Greek. "Have one on me! It's good tohear you talk!"
"What have my friends done to you?" asked Yerkes.
"I was looking for a lord. They pretended to be lords."
"What? Both of 'em?"
"No, it is one lord I
am looking for."
"One lord, one faith, one baptism!" said Yerkes profanely."And you found two? What's your worry? I'll pretend to be a third ifthat'll help you any!"
"Gentlemen," said the Greek, rising to his full height and letting hisrage begin to gather again, "you play with me. That is not well! Youwaste my time. That is not wise! I come in all innocence, looking fora certain lord--a real genuine lord--the Earl of Montdidier andKirscrubbrightshaw--my God, what a name!"
"I'm Mundidier," said a level voice, and the Greek faced about like aman attacked. Monty had entered the barroom and stood listening withcalm amusement, that for some strange reason exasperated the Greek lessthan our attitude had done, at least for the moment. When the firstflush of surprise had died he grinned and grew gallant.
"My own name is Georges Coutlass, my Lord!" He made a sweeping bow,almost touching the floor with the brim of his cowboy hat, and thencrossing his breast with it.
"What can I do for you?" asked Monty.
"Listen to me!"
"Very well. I can spare fifteen minutes."
We all took seats together in a far corner of the dingy room, where theSyrian barkeeper could not overhear us.
"My Lord, I am an Englishman!" Coutlass began. "I am a God-fearing,law-abiding gentleman! I know where to look for the ivory that theArab villain Tippoo Tib has buried! I know how to smuggle it out ofAfrica without paying a penny of duty--"
"Did you say law-abiding?" Monty asked.
"Surely! Always! I never break the law! As for instance--in Greece,where I had the honor to be born, the law says no man shall carry aknife or wear one in his belt. So, since I was a little boy I carrynone! I have none in my hand--none at my belt. I keep it here!"
He stooped, raised his right trousers leg, and drew from his Wellingtonboot a two-edged, pointed thing almost long enough to merit the name ofrapier. He tossed it in the air, let it spin six or seven times endover end, caught it deftly by the point, and returned it to itshiding-place.
"I am a law-abiding man," he said, "but where the law leaves off, Iknow where to begin! I am no fool!"
Monty made up his mind there and then that this man's game would not beworth the candle.
"No, Mr. Coutlass, I can't oblige you," he said.
The Greek half-arose and then sat down again.
"You can not find it without my assistance!" he said, wrinkling hisface for emphasis.
"I'm not looking for assistance," said Monty.
"Aha! You play with words! You are not--but you will! I am no fool,my Lord! I understand! Not for nothing did I make a friend again ofthat pig Hassan! Not for nothing have I waited all these months inthis stinking Zanzibar until a man should come in search of that ivorywhom I could trust! Not for nothing did Juma, the lazaretto attendanttell Hassan you desired to see him! You seek the ivory, but you wishto keep it all! To share none of it with me!" He stood up, and madeanother bow, much curter than his former one. "I am Georges Coutlass!My courage is known! No man can rob me and get away with it!"
"My good man," drawled Monty, raising his eyebrows in the comfortlessway he has when there seems need of facing an inferior antagonist. (Hehates to "lord it" as thoroughly as he loves to risk his neck.) "Iwould not rob you if you owned the earth! If you have valuableinformation I'll pay for it cheerfully after it's tested."
"Ah! Now you talk!"
"Observe--I said after it's tested!"
"I don't think he knows anything," said Fred. "I think he guessed alot, and wants to look, and can't afford to pay his own expenses.Isn't that it?"
"What do you mean?" demanded Coutlass.
"I can't talk Greek," said Fred. "Shall I say it again in English?"
"You may name any reasonable price," said Monty, "for real information.Put it in writing. When we're agreed on the price, put that inwriting too. Then, if we find the information is even approximatelyright, why, we'll pay for it."
"Ah-h-h! You intend to play a trick on me! You use my information!You find the ivory! You go out by the Congo River and the other coast,and I kiss myself good-by to you and ivory and money! I am to be whatd'you call it?--a milk-pigeon!"
"Being that must be some sensation!" nodded Yerkes.
"I warn you I can not be tampered with!" snarled the Greek, putting onhis hat with a flourish. "I leave you, for you to think it over! ButI tell you this--I promise you--I swear! Any expedition in search ofthat ivory that does not include Georges Coutlass on his own terms is adelusion--a busted flush--smashed--exploded--pfff!--so--evanescedbefore the start! My address is Zanzibar! Every street child knowsme! When you wish to know my terms, tell the first man or child youmeet to lead you to the house where Georges Coutlass lives! Goodmorning, Lord Skirtsshubrish! We will no doubt meet again!"
He turned his back on us and strode from the room--a man out of themiddle ages, soldierly of bearing, unquestionably bold, and not one bitmore venial or lawless than ninety per cent. of history's gallants, ifthe truth were told.
"Let's hope that's the last of him!" said Monty. "Can't say I likehim, but I'd hate to have to spoil his chances."
"Last of him be sugared!" said Yerkes. "That's only the first of him!He'll find seven devils worse than himself and camp on our trail, if Iknow anything of Greeks--that's to say, if our trail leads after thativory. Does it?"
"Depends," said Monty. "Let's talk upstairs. That Syrian has longears."
So we trooped to Monty's room, where the very cobwebs reeked of Arabhistory and lawless plans. He sat on the black iron bed, and wegrouped ourselves about on chairs that had very likely covered theknown world between them. One was obviously jetsam from a steamship;one was a Chinese thing, carved with staggering dragons; the other wasmade of iron-hard wood that Yerkes swore came from South America.
"Shoot when you're ready!" grinned Yerkes.
I was too excited to sit still. So was Fred.
"Get a move on, Didums, for God's sake!" he growled.
"Well," said Monty, "there seems something in this ivory business. Ourchance ought to be as good as anybody's. But there are one or twostiff hurdles. In the first place, the story is common property.Every one knows it--Arabs--Swahili--Greeks--Germans--English. To besuspected of looking for it would spell failure, for the simple reasonthat every adventurer on the coast would trail us, and if we did findit we shouldn't be able to keep the secret for five minutes. If wefound it anywhere except on British territory it 'ud be taken away fromus before we'd time to turn round. And it isn't buried on Britishterritory! I've found out that much."
"Good God, Didums! D'you mean you know where the stuff is?"
Fred sat forward like a man at a play.
"I know where it isn't," said Monty. "They told me at the Residencythat in all human probability it's buried part in German East, and byfar the greater part in the Congo."
"Then that ten per cent. offer by the British is a bluff?" asked Yerkes.
"Out of date," said Monty. "The other governments offer nothing. TheGerman government might make terms with a German or a Greek--not withan Englishman. The Congo government is an unknown quantity, but wouldprobably see reason if approached the proper way."
"The U. S. Consul tells me," said Yerkes, "that the Congo government isthe rottenest aggregate of cutthroats, horse-thieves, thugs, yeggs,common-or-ordinary hold-ups, and sleight-of-hand professors that theworld ever saw in one God-forsaken country. He says they're of everynationality, but without squeam of any kind--hang or shoot you as soonas look at you! He says if there's any ivory buried in those partsthey've either got it and sold it, or else they buried it themselvesand spread the story for a trap to fetch greenhorns over the border!"
"That man's after the stuff himself!" said Fred. "All he wanted to dowas stall you off!"
"That man Schillingschen the doctor told us about," said Monty, "issuspected of knowing where to look for some of the Congo hoard. He'llbear watching. He's in British East Africa at present-
-said to becombing Nairobi and other places for a certain native. He is known tostand high in the favor of the German government, but poses as aprofessor of ethnology."
"He shall study deathnology," said Fred, "if he gets in my way!"
"The Congo people," said Monty, "would have dug up the stuff, ofcourse, if they'd known where to look for it. Our people believe thatthe Germans do know whereabouts to look for it, but dread putting theCongo crowd on the scent. If we're after it we've got to do two thingsbesides agreeing between ourselves."
"Deal me in, Monty!" said Yerkes.
"Nil desperandum, Didums duce, then!" said Fred. "I propose Monty forleader. Those against the motion take their shirts off, and see ifthey can lick me! Nobody pugnacious? The ayes have it! Talk along,Didums!"
For all Fred's playfulness, Yerkes and I came in of our free andconsidered will, and Monty understood that.
"We've got to separate," he said, "and I've got to interview the Kingof Belgium."
"If that were my job," grinned Yerkes, "I'd prob'ly tell him things!"
"I don't pretend to like him," said Monty. "But it seems to me I canserve our best interests by going to Brussels. He can't very wellrefuse me a private audience. I should get a contract with the Congogovernment satisfactory to all concerned. He's rapacious--but I thinknot ninety per cent. rapacious."
"Good," said I, "but why separate?"
"If we traveled toward the Congo from this place in a bunch," saidMonty, "we should give the game away completely and have all therag-tag and bob-tail on our heels. As it is, our only chance ofshaking all of them would be to go round by sea and enter the Congofrom the other side; but that would destroy our chance of picking upthe trail in German East Africa. So I'll go to Brussels, and get backto British East as fast as possible. Fred must go to British East andwatch Schillingschen. You two fellows may as well go by way of BritishEast Africa to Muanza on Victoria Nyanza, and on from there to theCongo border by way of Ujiji. Yerkes is an American, and they'llsuspect him less than any of us (they'd nail me, of course, in aminute!) So let Yerkes make a great show of looking for land to settleon. We'll all four meet on the Congo border, at some other place to bedecided later. We'll have to agree on a code, and keep in touch bytelegraph as often as possible. Now, is all that clear?"
"We two'll have all the Greeks of Zanzibar trailing us all the way!"objected Yerkes.
"That'll be better than having them trail the lot of us," said Monty."You'll be able to shake them somewhere on the way. We'll count onyour ingenuity, Will."
"But what am I to do to Schillingschen?" asked Fred.
"Keep an eye on him."
"Do you see me Sherlock-Holmesing him across the high veld? Piffle!Give America that job! I'll go through German East and keep ahead ofthe Greeks!"
But Monty was firm. "Yerkes has a plausible excuse, Fred. They maywonder why an American should look for land in German East Africa, butthey'll let him do it, and perhaps not spy on him to any extent. It'sme they've their eye on. I'll try to keep 'em dazzled. You go toBritish East and dazzle Schillingschen! Now, are we agreed?"
We were. But we talked, nevertheless, long into the afternoon, and inthe end there was not one of us really satisfied. Over and over wetried to persuade Monty to omit the Brussels part of the plan. Wewanted him with us. But he stuck to his point, and had his way, as healways did when we were quite sure he really wanted it.