The Gobi Desert

by The Gobi Desert (epub)

  Captain Lucas was charming towards her. Streep looked at her without saying a word, hardly able to take his eyes off her. At first I tried to start up a conversation with him, to see if he still bore a grudge against me after my misdemeanour that morning. It wasn’t that I particularly wanted to be in his good books. But he was going to be sailing on the same ship as Alzire, and I wanted as much as possible that she should not be subjected to any bad feeling which had nothing to do with her.

  As for Sanders, he had monopolised his bottle of champagne, which he had insisted on opening himself.

  ‘Now then dear sir,’ Alzire said straightaway, ‘Is it true then that you are taking Michel away from me, to take him hunting God knows where? It’s a mark of real friendship that I’m showing you, in trusting him to you. Try to bring him back to me in one piece! And try also to prevent him doing anything stupid, won’t you? I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. You men, I understand you very well! You won’t be chasing after your tigers all the time. In the towns which you will be passing through, you will be sure to find a different sort of prey. I implore you not to give him too much opportunity.’

  Sanders jumped at these kind remarks. He glanced furtively at Streep. Evidently, he had not told his assistant about our project. But he had had so little time up until now. And it was a project still very much up in the air.

  Nonetheless it was clear that he would be much more at his ease when faced with big cats than with women. He turned his attention away from Streep, who received this news without a murmur, and switched his gaze again on Alzire.

  ‘Don’t worry dear lady!’ he replied in his rough voice which he tried in vain to soften. ‘There’s nothing to worry about, as far as I can see. And besides, something tells me your little friend was quick enough to prefer the fauna of the desert than what you’re talking about. If he’s not grown up enough at his age to look after his own salvation, then with the greatest of respect it is hardly worth anyone else bothering about him.’

  *

  I was deep in thought, going over the details of that evening, as our junk penetrated into the gigantic corridor between the mountains. We could just make out their gloomy outline, which merged with the sky as the sky itself became darker. We were both sitting at the rear of the vessel, Sanders smoking his long pipe. Another man, a sort of silent giant, was standing behind us, braced up against the helm. A coal fire was burning at our feet, underneath an iron cooking pot. We held out our hands over the fire to warm ourselves.

  It was already twelve long days that we had been sailing up this river, which was a tributary of one of the tributaries of the Hoang-Ho. At first it had been a vast sea of calm water, where we could hardly make out the shore. Then bit by bit we began to discern mountains, then trees, then houses, then people. Now, some days later, people and houses had disappeared again. Oaks and young beech trees had become transformed into dark forests of pines and firs. Rapids surged down the river, against which we had to struggle day and night. One could say that the sailors on our two junks were earning their money, as was the crew of the motor launch which was serving as a tug-boat.

  ‘What day is it?’ asked Sanders. ‘You lose track of time on this sort of trip.’

  ‘Friday,’ I replied.

  ‘Friday? So it’s payday tomorrow, right? We’ll try and tie up in a bay somewhere, restock our supply of wood and buy whatever we can, if we come across another village. You can take the opportunity to settle up with everybody here, on the junks and the motor launch. Have you got enough money?’

  ‘You are joking, Mr Sanders’, I muttered in a reproachful tone of voice.

  He gestured as if excusing himself from having irritated me, and didn’t pursue the matter.

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’ he said a moment later, seeing me give myself a slap on the cheek.

  ‘These mosquitos!’ I said, ‘damned mosquitos!’

  He sniggered quietly. ‘Don’t complain! Whoever talks about mosquitos is talking about water. You have to choose, in this cursed country. When you have been deprived of one, after five or six days, you will begin to miss the other, my friend.’

  Strange shapes appeared and disappeared in our wake, lit up in the light of the moon; snakes, no doubt, or turtles. There was one of those creatures which suddenly emerged three or four metres from us, with a whiskery face and a moustache, like an old man . . . Some sort of sea-cow!

  ‘I suppose actually,’ said Sanders, ‘that there is a good third of animals in existence which have never been categorised in the catalogues of those stupid scientists.’

  As if talking to himself he added: ‘Besides, it’s much better like that! If it wasn’t so, you and I would have to turn back straightaway, wouldn’t we? . . . . . What’s the matter? What’s up with you now?’

  I had suddenly taken hold of his hand.

  ‘Ahong! Ahong!’

  I gripped Sanders’ hand more tightly. ‘That sound!’ I stammered. ‘Did you hear it? It’s him, isn’t it? It’s him?’

  ‘Ahong! Ahong!’

  My companion slowly took his pipe out of his mouth. He was quiet, listening. On the opposite bank, the dull, majestic, echo was repeated:

  ‘Ahong! Ahong!’

  I shuddered. In the hold, at the front of the boat, a dreadful moan could be heard: one of our sheep was bleating in terror.

  ‘It’s him all right, isn’t it?’ I persisted, forcing myself to keep calm, trying to familiarise myself with it, the voice, the same terrifying voice that we had heard in the port at Fouzan three weeks earlier.

  ‘It’s him all right,’ said Sanders. Again the sound rang out. A red star was shining. It was Sanders, who had just drawn on his pipe. I heard him mumble with a slight disdain:

  ‘It’s one of them, at any rate! But not the type which we need. It’s as big as our Mikado, at the very most.’

  After a moment’s reflection he added: ‘Do you want to get a better idea of it? That sheep that was bleating a moment ago. Well, between the sound of that bleating and the cry of the beast you just heard, there has to be the same distance between that latter cry and that of the nice little animal that we are looking for. Do you understand? Very good! I hope you’re not regretting anything, are you?’

  I was silent, and as if for one last time, it was the cry of the beast which seemed to reply for me:

  ‘Ahong! . . . Ahong!. . . ’

  VII

  So it was on that Friday five weeks earlier that we had all left Fouzan: Alzire, Otto Streep, and the Mikado in the morning, heading for Macao and Sydney, via Singapore; Jack Sanders and I for Tien-Tsin in the afternoon. Everything had proceeded exactly according to plan.

  On the other hand, who could have imagined, and then conveyed, the atmosphere of those last hours spent together with Alzire, a mixture of solemnity and wonder, of sadness and serenity, all at the same time? The sorrow she felt in leaving me could be seen only too clearly on her face, in her silences, in the way she suddenly stopped laughing. But on the other hand, she still possessed a joy for life, and a compensation in seeing me with a task which fully engaged me. ‘You will begin to understand,’ she said to me on several occasions, ‘how much I suffered when I accused myself for having been a bad influence on you, when all along, as you well know, I only had one desire, and that was to see you working.’

  Dear Alzire, in those last moments, one could say that we were not often out of each other’s arms, and I’m not talking only about night time, that goes without saying, but also during the day. How had we managed to live for so many long years without knowing each other? That was what we spent our time wondering about.

  In the end it was only Mme Domestici of our little circle who was left in a bad mood. The consolation of having had her bill paid wasn’t enough for her. She would not have been upset, I’m sure, to keep me as I was in the condition which we have seen. But she ended up by taking part in her own downfall, as I did by making my peace with her. I was at one of those points in l
ife when you wonder what good it can do to have enemies.

  It was already Wednesday morning. ‘There’s a lot more to talk about,’ Sanders had said to me the day before. ‘We haven’t settled anything yet. I like your confidence, of course. But all the same we must have a serious talk. Make sure you come to the Myako this afternoon.’

  Alzire was trying on a simple little dress when I got back after my meeting with Sanders. When I came in she saw me in her wardrobe mirror, and she also saw the sort of feverish joy which I was unable to hide.

  ‘What’s up with you, Michel?’

  ‘Just take a look at this.’ I put in front of her a cheque for two thousand dollars. That’s right, for two thousand dollars.

  She turned pale. ‘What’s all this money?’

  ‘Good honest American money, as you can see. It doesn’t all belong to me. But all the same there is one thousand, three hundred and sixty dollars which is mine. Almost thirty-five thousand francs, if I calculate correctly.’

  She abandoned trying on her dress and sat down. She was no longer looking at the cheque. Now she was looking at me.

  ‘I don’t understand. Was it Mr Sanders who gave you this money?’

  ‘Who would you want it to be?’ I asked triumphantly. ‘Besides, his signature is perfectly legible. Didn’t I tell you I had a meeting with him to talk about our contract? I’ve just this minute left him. He showed me the greatest consideration and let me have the rest of the day to think about it, and didn’t even want to wait for me to sign up before presenting me with this cheque. What do you say to that? Come to think of it, this is the man who only the other day you were advising me to be very careful about! You should take a close look at this as well.’

  ‘A close look at what?’

  ‘At the draft contract which he has just proposed to me, which we were talking about.’

  She pushed away the document which I held out to her. ‘No, my dear Michel! Your trust is very touching. But I don’t want to seem to be interfering in something which doesn’t concern me.’

  ‘Are you mad?’ I asked, bursting into laughter and shrugging my shoulders at the same time. ‘As if our interests were not the same! Besides, you told me not to be trusting, to be careful. I intend to prove to you that I am not a child.’

  ‘Oh! Well, if you say so!’ she muttered, and smiled.

  *

  It was all very clear, as clear as it was unexpected. With a generosity and a broad-mindedness such as I had never known before in my life, Sanders was offering me, during a hunting expedition of a fixed duration of six months and an itinerary that seemed to be detailed and interesting, the following terms: a sum of three hundred and twenty dollars per month, that was equivalent, for the six months, to forty-eight thousand francs. This contract could be extended, either expressly or by tacit renewal, for a further period of either three or six months. At the end of the first six months, I would have the option of keeping the same method of remuneration, or of relinquishing my salary in exchange for receiving a share calculated as five percent of the net profits of the expedition. All this was designed in the most liberal and generous spirit. From the moment of ratification of the contract – and we have seen that Sanders didn’t bother with actually signing it – I was to receive, by way of an advance, the first three months instalments as agreed, plus four hundred dollars for my personal expenses for equipment, and every payment, of whatever type, was to be mine whatever happened afterwards.

  Alzire finished reading, and gave a nod of approval. ‘I can’t see anything there which isn’t absolutely correct.’

  ‘Really?’ I said excitedly.

  ‘Yes, it’s all correct. He’s even given you too much, I think. Yes, three hundred and twenty dollars a month for three months, that comes to only nine hundred and sixty. Adding the premium for equipment of four hundred dollars, we get to one thousand three hundred and sixty. The cheque is for two thousand dollars. So there is a difference of six hundred and forty dollars between what is laid down in your contract and what you have just received. I’ve calculated that correctly.’

  ‘But I told you it’s not all for me. He has written a cheque for two thousand dollars to round up. ‘‘You will always have bills to pay,’’ he explained, ‘‘and I don’t want you to have to pay for all and sundry. It’s right that you should have something in advance. When this advance is nearly all used up, you only have to let me know. Voila!’’

  ‘He’s right. But don’t expect too much, that’s all,’ said Alzire pensively.

  She began to read the contract again, and asked:

  ‘Five per cent of the net profits of the expedition, what does that consist of?’

  ‘If I understand correctly what Sanders is thinking,’ I began in a casual tone, ‘he’s not counting on making money from this business. He has an objective which I don’t know about, but I’m certain that he will pay, although he hasn’t confided in me about any of this. Besides, what does it matter as long as my interests at any rate are protected? The way in which I expect to be paid depends only on me. And anyway, the expenses which he is incurring prove how much importance he attaches to this enterprise. He will try to pay off these expenses as far as possible by trading in furs which we will be able to obtain on the way. Martens, sables, tarbogans, blue foxes, stoats, it’s a paradise out there for these animals. They will come into the calculation of the profit which will be due to me, if I see an advantage in this way of remuneration. However much Mr Sanders is reticent about all of this however, he has had to admit that there is a different motive for our journey. It’s the tiger which we are going to hunt, let’s not forget, a tiger which we have to bring back alive, or not at all. I don’t know any more than that. And I would add that every time that I have tried, as discreetly as I possibly could, to get some more precise details . . . .’

  ‘It doesn’t matter! The main thing, as you said, is that whatever is due to you is guaranteed,’ said Alzire, who seemed to have been only half listening to the second part of my account.

  And with the practical sense of women who have someone else’s interests at heart, she added:

  ‘A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, as a French friend of mine used to say. Think carefully about giving up your fixed payment in favour of a hypothetical percentage. Think very carefully!’

  She still seemed preoccupied. ‘There’s something else on my mind,’ she said suddenly. ‘Your cheque, how are you going to cash it? It’s crossed, so you will have to pay it into a bank account, and you don’t have an account, as far as I know.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about that, I must admit. But there must be a way of sorting it out.’

  ‘No doubt there is. I think the easiest way would be to endorse it on the back in favour of Mme Domestici, who can do everything she wants on the spot. She will see to handling it for you straightaway. It’s a service which she owes us anyway. And after she is paid in full . . . ‘

  Less than an hour later, Alzire had returned with a bundle of banknotes which she threw on to the table.

  ‘There you are, sir,’ she said laughing, ‘please be so kind as to count it. One thousand . . . . one thousand five hundred . . . eight hundred, nine hundred, nine hundred and fifty, one thousand nine hundred and eighty dollars . . . That works out right. I’ve taken the liberty of keeping twenty dollars as a commission. I’ll buy a souvenir for Mme Domestici, that would be nice, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes, of course! For the past two days she’s been absolutely wonderful towards us. But for you darling, you have had a heap of items to pay for the two of us . . . .It’s only fair . . . . ‘

  She laughed in her usual charming, nonchalant way.

  ‘It’s nothing! If ever I need money, don’t worry, I’ll certainly ask you for some. For the time being, you mustn’t leave yourself without any, my friend.’

  It was at ten o’clock in the morning the following day that the Bendigo was due to weigh anchor. Alzire, who hated emotional scenes, would
not have wanted me to accompany her on board. But she couldn’t overcome my obstinacy on this point. Besides, my duty was to be with my new boss, who would never have agreed to us not making one last visit to his tiger.

  ‘Oh! But I want to see it as well!’ cried Alzire. ‘I’ve never seen such an animal! All the ones that I have seen have been dead.’

  So we all set off, dutifully making our way towards the prow of the ship, Alzire, Captain Lucas, Sanders, me, Otto Streep more withdrawn than ever, and with whom I had completely given up hope of one day making friends. It was there that the huge crate was stowed, which contained the cage where the Mikado was held. One of the sides of the crate, constructed as a sliding door, rolled slowly in its grooves, as it was manoeuvred by two sailors.

  Between the enormous bars, gradually the interior of the cage could be seen, dark and gloomy. Right at the back one could make out the obscure form of the big cat, sullenly huddled up in a corner.

  ‘Where is he then, the sulky old thing?’ asked Alzire. ‘Can you see anything, you men? I can’t make out anything. Let me get a bit closer . . . ‘

  Mad child! In her carelessness, with one step further she could have pressed her head against the bars. At that moment Sanders and the captain, seizing her by the arms, were just in time to drag her back. Releasing the powerful frame of its muscles, the tiger also leaped forward. Now he was there, standing upright, and grabbing hold of the cage which he was shaking with a furious frenzy. Its monstrous muzzle thrust through the bars. The dark caverns of its eyes glowed with greenish flames. Its enormous throat roared as if on fire. A hideous fog emerged from it, hot, acrid, nauseating. And making the whole ship shudder, the terrible howl twice rang out:

  ‘Ahong! . . . Ahong! . . . ‘

  *

  The panel was rapidly shut and we looked at each other. Alzire smiled, deathly pale from an emotion which she couldn’t control.