He appeared not to have heard me. He was completely absorbed with his string which he wound up and carefully put back in his pocket. This was often his habit, doing everything to provoke a question, and then ignoring it.
*
Spring, as I said, was on the point of arriving when we set sail on the Hoang-Ho. Now we had the impression that it was avoiding us and that we were returning to winter. What’s more, it seemed as if we were abandoning the century itself to return to earlier, prehistoric times. Each day we began to make another strange discovery. Was there anything among them which might have had a link with the main objective of our expedition? That was Sanders’ secret, Sanders who was always so mean with explanations. Besides, it sometimes happened that he himself would shake his head with almost the same astonishment or anxiety that we felt, when we came across a sight or when something happened which was particularly disconcerting.
One day it would be the fauna which held our attention; the next day it was the flora. The living flora consisted almost solely of sad, faded clumps of moss which our camels forced themselves to dig up from under layers of frozen snow, often five or six feet deep. And then there was the other, the dead vegetation, of which there were mysterious traces and vestiges, encrusted in the sides of underground tunnels, as if glazed inside blocks of transparent mica. The remains of strange animals, of snakes, camels, flying fish, all were mixed in with their mournful skeletons. I’m not a great expert in geology and I don’t know the type of rocks or crystals which were suddenly lit up in the beams of our electric torches. But what extraordinary colours they were adorned with all of a sudden! There were some in pink, in blue, in silver with veins of purple, in sulphurous green streaked with olive, in amethyst and celadon. One might have thought these were statuettes and priceless Chinese jewels, in the shape of goddesses, or of birds, or miraculous plants or shrubs. And then everything fell back into the night, the deep night without stars, beaten by the furious moaning of the wind, and the bitter sobbing of the spirits.
As for the animals, that was something else. We came across fewer and fewer of them; and the less we saw the more we felt oppressed by some obscure presence, something which we felt with a mixture of haste and of terror, that it might deign to manifest itself in a tangible form. One day our dogs, as they had just gone ahead of us into one of those grottoes in which, to put our minds at rest, we always had a look around, began to bark hysterically. They came out dragging behind them enormous strips of a sort of lumpy mane. The remains, more or less intact, of a prehistoric elephant lay inside the cave. We stood around with Sanders, looking at him without saying a word. He couldn’t hide the gleam of triumph which shone in his eyes. He restrained himself, however, and just shrugged his shoulders. ‘A mammoth!’ he said. ‘That’s nice! But what of it? It’s not even as big as the one you can see every Sunday, free of charge, in the museum at St. Petersburg. It would be better if it was alive. But in this condition? We’re not collecting bits and pieces to go behind plates of glass, guys!’
It was Kailar, the taciturn gatherer of gin-sen, the oldest of our Koreans, who was responsible for looking after our pack of hounds. The pack consisted of half-a-dozen short-haired Manchurian dogs, as savage and as aggressive as wolves. Their backs and their sides, covered with wounds and scars, were proof of the excellence of their service against wild boars and even against tigers. Sanders, out of the goodness of his heart, had also taken on a frightful little Japanese mongrel, which had attached itself to him in the streets of Fouzan, and which had stuck to him like a leech ever since, growling and constantly baring its teeth. At first the six Manchurians had welcomed it by giving it a good hiding. Now they recognised it as their leader. Kiss was the name which Sanders had given it, and it so happened that Kiss was not slow in justifying the high opinion which people might have of his intelligence. Most of us might not have witnessed his little games over the past week, but there were in fact a couple which had not gone unnoticed.
It had not been snowing so heavily on that particular day. At the evening halt we managed to make a fire to revive the horses and camels. While waiting for Youen to call us to dinner, we were leaning against our vehicles, our eyes looking with melancholy towards the west. In the livid beige light of the sky, a clearer spot indicated the place where the sun, which we had not seen for many days, was just setting. We were dreaming of those happy people in both hemispheres, who at the same time were also able to contemplate how it was disappearing with such radiance.
Sanders, smoking his pipe, was walking up and down, with Kiss stuck to his heels. Suddenly he stopped in front of me.
‘Are you coming?’ he asked abruptly.
‘Where to?’ I asked calmly, accustomed as I was to his ways.
‘To go for a little ride. Youen hasn’t laid the table for us yet. We have time.’
‘I’m at your disposal,’ I said, thinking that he must have his reasons.
Our two ponies, on the other hand, seemed less pleased with this unexpected news.
Suddenly I let out a cry. ‘My horse, look how it’s shaking! And so is yours also!’
Nain-Sain was there, checking the straps for both animals. I thought I saw him glance at Sanders.
‘You think so?’ was all Sanders said eventually. ‘After all, it’s possible. It’s certainly cold enough, thank God!’
We set off. Our itinerary was simple. We would confine ourselves to going back along our route of that afternoon. Darkness was falling rapidly. Sanders didn’t seem bothered.
‘Got your rifle?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t bring it.’
‘Why not?’
‘I didn’t think we would go far from the camp site. Besides, I’ve got my revolver.’
‘Oh really! You’ve got your revolver? And why not a penknife, or even a pop gun?’
For some minutes the awful Kiss had been making a dull whimpering sound. He was trotting along between the legs of Sanders’ pony. His master finally leant forward and, after punching him on the back of the neck, lifted him up and installed him on the pommel of his saddle.
‘There now, little thing! What’s the matter? Are you cross? What can you see?’
The wretched dog continued with its lamentable yapping. It wasn’t funny, such a litany, in the twilight, and who knew how far we were from any civilisation?
‘What are you looking at there?’ I asked, unable to stand it any longer.
‘Oh! So you’ve suddenly got curious have you?’ he said.
He got down from his horse. I did the same. In the muddy clay of the path, along which our convoy, one hour earlier, had passed, you could see the tracks left by the wheels of our lorries, as well as some circular-shaped footprints, all mixed up together, and which the snow, now beginning to come down again, was slowly covering up.
At that instant there rang out a cry so mournful that I nearly jumped out of my skin. It was Sanders’ horse, which had begun shaking again throughout its whole body. Kiss responded with an almost equally terrified barking. What was the point of our ridiculous promenade? The dinner which Youen had prepared should be ready by now. There was no reason not to get back to the camp.
My companion started speaking, pointing to the footprints.
‘You were asking what I was looking at. Well, what do you think this could be?’
‘The tracks left by our camels, of course!’
‘The tracks left by our camels? Why not? It’s possible! Everything is possible! All the same, when you discover a camel which has five toes on its front feet, and four on its back feet, not to mention the little heart-shaped cushion underneath which we can see here, pointing forward, and all about twice the normal size, then you really must do your best to keep a specimen for me. I promise you we’ll send it on favourable terms to those gentlemen at the Sydney Zoo. While you’re waiting, try to remember what I said last week. You will have to acknowledge that I was right.’
‘Right? What about?’ I said sullenly.
‘When I told you that the most unpleasant thing in the world is the sensation that you are being followed, my friend.’
*
It took us another hour to get back to the camp. The legs of my horse were giving way even more than were those of Sanders’ horse. When finally we could make out two or three lights from our lorries, we could at last feel a bit reassured.
‘What do you think of it then, Michel?’ asked Sanders. ‘Your life here, our life I mean, certainly isn’t without some little inconveniences. Even so, for my part I find it more worthy than the sort of life you can lead in Fouzan, or anywhere else for that matter. Don’t you think so?’
He looked at me with an expression as if he was visibly seeking approval. It was the first reference to my previous life which he had dared to make since his recent revelation, and the afternoon when the Gobi Desert had suddenly loomed up in front of us. And you would be right in thinking that, as far as I was concerned, I hadn’t sought to turn the conversation back to that again.
‘Don’t you think so?’ he repeated, with such a pathetic expression that anyone else would have felt some sympathy for him.
‘Absolutely!’ I said emphatically.
In the darkness I heard him breathe what sounded like a sigh of relief. Never had he seemed happier or in a better mood than he did that evening. He could believe that he had convinced me, that we had made our peace . . . . . . And even if that wasn’t true, what would be the point of trying to put him straight, I ask you?
XII
If anyone wants to know, on the eve of the most decisive event of our adventure, the full extent to which Sanders wanted to demonstrate his affection for me, then they should listen to what took place between him and me one moonlit, snow-covered night, at the end of a day which was also marked by a little incident which might have shaped my destiny - and that of Alzire - in a completely different way.
We never failed to investigate, as best we could, any of the innumerable caverns which we came across on our journey. The results were always rather unsatisfactory. Sanders was obstinate however. He claimed that our failures were due to the fact that too often we didn’t go right to the end of our exploration. In the end he put forward the theory that, like those nicely-built bachelor apartments, many of the caves would have both an entrance and an exit. While we were coming in from one end, the animals, alerted by the barking of our dogs, could easily escape through the other. Nain-Sain was inclined towards this opinion. But this particular event however did not prove them right.
Despite all the entreaties of our leader, there was one precaution which I could less and less resign myself to, and that was to burden myself with my rifle during these fruitless searches. As well as my revolver, which never left my side, I always had under my arm a little horse whip made of plaited leather, which I used to encourage my pony when caresses and soft words were not sufficient.
So Sanders, Neratov, and I, not forgetting the inevitable Kiss, plus Kailar with two more of our dogs on leads, found ourselves that afternoon at the entrance to one of these famous caves. The passage way into the cave was obstructed by thick lichens which had formed into dense bushes. Sanders tried to clear all this away by kicking at it with his feet. Just at that moment, Kiss began to bark. Although I was used to his outbreaks of temper, I now had the distinct impression that his barking was completely different, and good God, I wasn’t wrong. At the same moment Kailar’s dogs also began to howl like death.
‘Hey! Mr Sanders! Look out!’
It was me who was standing closest to him, three or four steps behind. I was the only one out of the four of us to have seen it. Such a ghastly horror! Who could have imagined such a thing! Snakes in the Gobi Desert! Was this hideous apparition really a snake? We would check in a minute. For the moment there was only one thing to do! Whish! Whish! Whish!
That was it! Three cracks of my whip had done the job pretty well. Disturbed by Sanders while it was resting, this horrible creature had suddenly reared up between him and me. My horse whip had broken its spine just at the moment when it was about to plant its two fangs into my companion’s thigh. Can you imagine this abject and terrifying animal, something between a reptile and a huge centipede, an ancient basilisk, its skin covered with a sort of slimy fibre like seaweed? A revolting blood-stained dribble flowed from its throat. Its eyes were like two horrible rubies, already darkened by death . . . .
‘Dolly! Dolly! Come back!’ But it was too late.
*
Ten o’clock in the evening! It was hard to believe. Not since the start of the expedition had we kept watch so late.
‘Michel, don’t forget I want a word with you.’
‘At your command, Mr Sanders!’
Despite the sadness at the death of Dolly, he had insisted that we should drink some champagne. It was a terrible moment when we watched the poor creature writhing in agony, which Neratov put an end to with a compassionate bullet behind its ear. Having got loose from Kailar, Dolly had launched herself furiously at the monster, whose ghastly flat head still had the ability to spit out a sort of dark, menacing spittle. In a final spasm, its terrible fangs had fastened themselves onto the dog’s neck. It was impossible to tear them away! Less than an hour later Dolly gave up her little soul. She was the oldest of Sanders’ team. She had taken part with him in more than a dozen hunting expeditions, in Korea, in the Ussuri and the Ghirin, as far as Baikal. Never had she complained about injury or pain. Most recently the capture of the Mikado had cost her three broken ribs.
We got back to the convoy in silence. Only then did Sanders take me by the hand.
‘I owe my life to you, Michel,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to think that you’re dealing with someone who isn’t grateful.’
When I said that we had drunk some champagne, that meant Sanders, Welowski, Neratov, and me. The three Koreans preferred koumiss, which is a filthy drink to lift the heart of every self-respecting orthodox Christian. Ilichine never drank. Nor did Nain-Sain. Besides, that evening it was Nain-Sain’s turn to be on watch. For the past week, every three hours, even throughout the night, Sanders had insisted that each one of us should take our turn on guard duty. He certainly must have had his reasons for that.
All the same it was a curious sensation, in such a solitary place, to hear corks popping and see this French wine bubbling in our glasses. The black silhouettes of our vehicles, which were arranged in a circle and making dull clucking noises, stood out against the yellow snow in the moonlight. The horses were asleep. But the camels in their pen could perhaps smell something threatening in the bitter wind of the steppe which our other animals could not discern. We heard them moaning pitifully, so that even the most hardened among us wished that the sad light of the dawn would not be too long in coming to visit us again.
*
‘I won’t keep you any longer, fellas!’
Welowski and Neratov saluted, then shook the hand extended out to them, and clicked their heels. I was left alone with Sanders. There was a moment’s silence. Then he said:
‘Do you realise, Michel? I’ll say it again, I owe you my life.’
‘Mr Sanders, please. It’s not worth talking about it.’
‘You’re a good fellow, you really are. And on the contrary, I think it is worth talking about it. Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?’
He took out an envelope from the inside pocket – the left pocket, let’s be precise! – of his jacket.
‘Do you know what this is? It’s my will. Adventures such as the one that happened to me this afternoon make us all want to put our affairs in order. This is what I’ve been busy doing, in view of the kindness which you have inspired in me, and the gratitude which I owe you as from today.’
I looked at him with a mixture of mistrust and astonishment. He wasn’t going to make me his heir, was he? But it seemed he was. Men really are strange creatures. Such a gesture from someone who at times I hated! The amazement which showed on my face the more he tried to explain himse
lf must have been such that he couldn’t prevent a smile. He gently took my hand.
‘Why should you be so surprised? Days such as those which we have just spent have brought us closer together more than a lifetime could have done. And besides, everything that I own I shall have to leave to someone, won’t I?’
‘Isn’t there anyone else you could consider apart from me?’ I asked warily. ‘Ilichine and Neratov for example, who you knew before me? Or even that Otto Streep, who has been in your service for I don’t know how many years.’
He smiled.
‘Precisely! That Otto Streep, as you call him, has had all these years in which to make his mark. You don’t get bored working as an accountant for old Sanders, believe me! Just recently I gave him his share of the proceeds from the sale of the Mikado. As for the others, how do you know I haven’t considered them? You will be the first to know, since you will also be the executor of my will. But it’s amusing, you and your scruples, my friend! Instead of being embarrassed about all this, you would do better to concern yourself with the money which might come your way, one day which I hope will be as far into the future as possible. So put your mind at rest on that score.’
Thereupon he began, with a childish desire to please, to enumerate all the financial successes which, having started from nothing, he had achieved over forty years of hard work, years which hadn’t always been a bed of roses. He recounted to me his whole life as a poor solitary adventurer, in such detail and with such feeling that he was capable of softening the hardest heart, and mine even more so, in view of what he was going to do for me. But the more he spoke the more my dislike of him seemed to grow. There was something which I was certain I would never, ever, forget: that he had held Alzire in his arms, for a whole night. ‘And so what?’ you would be right to ask me. Oh yes, I understand. It’s true that I had never experienced that sort of resentment towards anyone else, anyone at all, even those who I have had to get to know or sometimes even had to put up with, in different circumstances. Why then should I feel it towards the one man who had ever been interested in me, who was all in all the only benefactor I had ever had? I couldn’t understand that at all. But in the end there was nothing to say, that was the fact of the matter.
The Gobi Desert Page 10