CHAPTER II
THE LEGEND OF SOLOMON'S MINES
"What was it that you heard about my brother's journey at Bamangwato?"asked Sir Henry, as I paused to fill my pipe before replying to CaptainGood.
"I heard this," I answered, "and I have never mentioned it to a soultill to-day. I heard that he was starting for Solomon's Mines."
"Solomon's Mines?" ejaculated both my hearers at once. "Where are they?"
"I don't know," I said; "I know where they are said to be. Once I sawthe peaks of the mountains that border them, but there were a hundredand thirty miles of desert between me and them, and I am not aware thatany white man ever got across it save one. But perhaps the best thing Ican do is to tell you the legend of Solomon's Mines as I know it, youpassing your word not to reveal anything I tell you without mypermission. Do you agree to that? I have my reasons for asking."
Sir Henry nodded, and Captain Good replied, "Certainly, certainly."
"Well," I began, "as you may guess, generally speaking, elephanthunters are a rough set of men, who do not trouble themselves with muchbeyond the facts of life and the ways of Kafirs. But here and there youmeet a man who takes the trouble to collect traditions from thenatives, and tries to make out a little piece of the history of thisdark land. It was such a man as this who first told me the legend ofSolomon's Mines, now a matter of nearly thirty years ago. That was whenI was on my first elephant hunt in the Matabele country. His name wasEvans, and he was killed the following year, poor fellow, by a woundedbuffalo, and lies buried near the Zambesi Falls. I was telling Evansone night, I remember, of some wonderful workings I had found whilsthunting koodoo and eland in what is now the Lydenburg district of theTransvaal. I see they have come across these workings again lately inprospecting for gold, but I knew of them years ago. There is a greatwide wagon road cut out of the solid rock, and leading to the mouth ofthe working or gallery. Inside the mouth of this gallery are stacks ofgold quartz piled up ready for roasting, which shows that the workers,whoever they were, must have left in a hurry. Also, about twenty pacesin, the gallery is built across, and a beautiful bit of masonry it is."
"'Ay,' said Evans, 'but I will spin you a queerer yarn than that'; andhe went on to tell me how he had found in the far interior a ruinedcity, which he believed to be the Ophir of the Bible, and, by the way,other more learned men have said the same long since poor Evans's time.I was, I remember, listening open-eared to all these wonders, for I wasyoung at the time, and this story of an ancient civilisation and of thetreasures which those old Jewish or Phoenician adventurers used toextract from a country long since lapsed into the darkest barbarismtook a great hold upon my imagination, when suddenly he said to me,'Lad, did you ever hear of the Suliman Mountains up to the north-westof the Mushakulumbwe country?' I told him I never had. 'Ah, well,' hesaid, 'that is where Solomon really had his mines, his diamond mines, Imean.'
"'How do you know that?' I asked.
"'Know it! why, what is "Suliman" but a corruption of Solomon?[1]Besides, an old Isanusi or witch doctoress up in the Manica countrytold me all about it. She said that the people who lived across thosemountains were a "branch" of the Zulus, speaking a dialect of Zulu, butfiner and bigger men even; that there lived among them great wizards,who had learnt their art from white men when "all the world was dark,"and who had the secret of a wonderful mine of "bright stones."'
"Well, I laughed at this story at the time, though it interested me,for the Diamond Fields were not discovered then, but poor Evans wentoff and was killed, and for twenty years I never thought any more ofthe matter. However, just twenty years afterwards--and that is a longtime, gentlemen; an elephant hunter does not often live for twentyyears at his business--I heard something more definite about Suliman'sMountains and the country which lies beyond them. I was up beyond theManica country, at a place called Sitanda's Kraal, and a miserableplace it was, for a man could get nothing to eat, and there was butlittle game about. I had an attack of fever, and was in a bad waygenerally, when one day a Portugee arrived with a single companion--ahalf-breed. Now I know your low-class Delagoa Portugee well. There isno greater devil unhung in a general way, battening as he does uponhuman agony and flesh in the shape of slaves. But this was quite adifferent type of man to the mean fellows whom I had been accustomed tomeet; indeed, in appearance he reminded me more of the polite doms Ihave read about, for he was tall and thin, with large dark eyes andcurling grey mustachios. We talked together for a while, for he couldspeak broken English, and I understood a little Portugee, and he toldme that his name was Jose Silvestre, and that he had a place nearDelagoa Bay. When he went on next day with his half-breed companion, hesaid 'Good-bye,' taking off his hat quite in the old style.
"'Good-bye, senor,' he said; 'if ever we meet again I shall be therichest man in the world, and I will remember you.' I laughed alittle--I was too weak to laugh much--and watched him strike out forthe great desert to the west, wondering if he was mad, or what hethought he was going to find there.
"A week passed, and I got the better of my fever. One evening I wassitting on the ground in front of the little tent I had with me,chewing the last leg of a miserable fowl I had bought from a native fora bit of cloth worth twenty fowls, and staring at the hot red sunsinking down over the desert, when suddenly I saw a figure, apparentlythat of a European, for it wore a coat, on the slope of the risingground opposite to me, about three hundred yards away. The figure creptalong on its hands and knees, then it got up and staggered forward afew yards on its legs, only to fall and crawl again. Seeing that itmust be somebody in distress, I sent one of my hunters to help him, andpresently he arrived, and who do you suppose it turned out to be?"
"Jose Silvestre, of course," said Captain Good.
"Yes, Jose Silvestre, or rather his skeleton and a little skin. Hisface was a bright yellow with bilious fever, and his large dark eyesstood nearly out of his head, for all the flesh had gone. There wasnothing but yellow parchment-like skin, white hair, and the gaunt bonessticking up beneath.
"'Water! for the sake of Christ, water!' he moaned and I saw that hislips were cracked, and his tongue, which protruded between them, wasswollen and blackish.
"I gave him water with a little milk in it, and he drank it in greatgulps, two quarts or so, without stopping. I would not let him have anymore. Then the fever took him again, and he fell down and began to raveabout Suliman's Mountains, and the diamonds, and the desert. I carriedhim into the tent and did what I could for him, which was littleenough; but I saw how it must end. About eleven o'clock he grewquieter, and I lay down for a little rest and went to sleep. At dawn Iwoke again, and in the half light saw Silvestre sitting up, a strange,gaunt form, and gazing out towards the desert. Presently the first rayof the sun shot right across the wide plain before us till it reachedthe faraway crest of one of the tallest of the Suliman Mountains morethan a hundred miles away.
"'There it is!' cried the dying man in Portuguese, and pointing withhis long, thin arm, 'but I shall never reach it, never. No one willever reach it!'
"Suddenly, he paused, and seemed to take a resolution. 'Friend,' hesaid, turning towards me, 'are you there? My eyes grow dark.'
"'Yes,' I said; 'yes, lie down now, and rest.'
"'Ay,' he answered, 'I shall rest soon, I have time to rest--alleternity. Listen, I am dying! You have been good to me. I will give youthe writing. Perhaps you will get there if you can live to pass thedesert, which has killed my poor servant and me.'
"Then he groped in his shirt and brought out what I thought was a Boertobacco pouch made of the skin of the Swart-vet-pens or sable antelope.It was fastened with a little strip of hide, what we call a rimpi, andthis he tried to loose, but could not. He handed it to me. 'Untie it,'he said. I did so, and extracted a bit of torn yellow linen on whichsomething was written in rusty letters. Inside this rag was a paper.
"Then he went on feebly, for he was growing weak: 'The paper has allthat is on the linen. It took me years to read. Listen: my ancestor, apo
litical refugee from Lisbon, and one of the first Portuguese wholanded on these shores, wrote that when he was dying on those mountainswhich no white foot ever pressed before or since. His name was Jose daSilvestra, and he lived three hundred years ago. His slave, who waitedfor him on this side of the mountains, found him dead, and brought thewriting home to Delagoa. It has been in the family ever since, but nonehave cared to read it, till at last I did. And I have lost my life overit, but another may succeed, and become the richest man in theworld--the richest man in the world. Only give it to no one, senor; goyourself!'
"Then he began to wander again, and in an hour it was all over.
"God rest him! he died very quietly, and I buried him deep, with bigboulders on his breast; so I do not think that the jackals can have dughim up. And then I came away."
"Ay, but the document?" said Sir Henry, in a tone of deep interest.
"Yes, the document; what was in it?" added the captain.
"Well, gentlemen, if you like I will tell you. I have never showed itto anybody yet except to a drunken old Portuguese trader who translatedit for me, and had forgotten all about it by the next morning. Theoriginal rag is at my home in Durban, together with poor Dom Jose'stranslation, but I have the English rendering in my pocket-book, and afacsimile of the map, if it can be called a map. Here it is."
MAP]
"I, Jose da Silvestra, who am now dying of hunger in the little cave where no snow is on the north side of the nipple of the southernmost of the two mountains I have named Sheba's Breasts, write this in the year 1590 with a cleft bone upon a remnant of my raiment, my blood being the ink. If my slave should find it when he comes, and should bring it to Delagoa, let my friend (name illegible) bring the matter to the knowledge of the king, that he may send an army which, if they live through the desert and the mountains, and can overcome the brave Kukuanes and their devilish arts, to which end many priests should be brought, will make him the richest king since Solomon. With my own eyes I have seen the countless diamonds stored in Solomon's treasure chamber behind the white Death; but through the treachery of Gagool the witch-finder I might bring nought away, scarcely my life. Let him who comes follow the map, and climb the snow of Sheba's left breast till he reaches the nipple, on the north side of which is the great road Solomon made, from whence three days' journey to the King's Palace. Let him kill Gagool. Pray for my soul. Farewell.
Jose da Silvestra."[2]
When I had finished reading the above, and shown the copy of the map,drawn by the dying hand of the old Dom with his blood for ink, therefollowed a silence of astonishment.
"Well," said Captain Good, "I have been round the world twice, and putin at most ports, but may I be hung for a mutineer if ever I heard ayarn like this out of a story book, or in it either, for the matter ofthat."
"It's a queer tale, Mr. Quatermain," said Sir Henry. "I suppose you arenot hoaxing us? It is, I know, sometimes thought allowable to take in agreenhorn."
"If you think that, Sir Henry," I said, much put out, and pocketing mypaper--for I do not like to be thought one of those silly fellows whoconsider it witty to tell lies, and who are for ever boasting tonewcomers of extraordinary hunting adventures which never happened--"ifyou think that, why, there is an end to the matter," and I rose to go.
Sir Henry laid his large hand upon my shoulder. "Sit down, Mr.Quatermain," he said, "I beg your pardon; I see very well you do notwish to deceive us, but the story sounded so strange that I couldhardly believe it."
"You shall see the original map and writing when we reach Durban," Ianswered, somewhat mollified, for really when I came to consider thequestion it was scarcely wonderful that he should doubt my good faith.
"But," I went on, "I have not told you about your brother. I knew theman Jim who was with him. He was a Bechuana by birth, a good hunter,and for a native a very clever man. That morning on which Mr. Nevillewas starting I saw Jim standing by my wagon and cutting up tobacco onthe disselboom.
"'Jim,' said I, 'where are you off to this trip? It is elephants?'
"'No, Baas,' he answered, 'we are after something worth much more thanivory.'
"'And what might that be?' I said, for I was curious. 'Is it gold?'
"'No, Baas, something worth more than gold,' and he grinned.
"I asked no more questions, for I did not like to lower my dignity byseeming inquisitive, but I was puzzled. Presently Jim finished cuttinghis tobacco.
"'Baas,' said he.
"I took no notice.
"'Baas,' said he again.
"'Eh, boy, what is it?' I asked.
"'Baas, we are going after diamonds.'
"'Diamonds! why, then, you are steering in the wrong direction; youshould head for the Fields.'
"'Baas, have you ever heard of Suliman's Berg?'--that is, Solomon'sMountains, Sir Henry.
"'Ay!'
"'Have you ever heard of the diamonds there?'
"'I have heard a foolish story, Jim.'
"'It is no story, Baas. Once I knew a woman who came from there, andreached Natal with her child, she told me:--she is dead now.'
"'Your master will feed the assvoegels'--that is, vultures--'Jim, if hetries to reach Suliman's country, and so will you if they can get anypickings off your worthless old carcass,' said I.
"He grinned. 'Mayhap, Baas. Man must die; I'd rather like to try a newcountry myself; the elephants are getting worked out about here.'
"'Ah! my boy,' I said, 'you wait till the "pale old man" gets a grip ofyour yellow throat, and then we shall hear what sort of a tune yousing.'
"Half an hour after that I saw Neville's wagon move off. Presently Jimcame back running. 'Good-bye, Baas,' he said. 'I didn't like to startwithout bidding you good-bye, for I daresay you are right, and that weshall never trek south again.'
"'Is your master really going to Suliman's Berg, Jim, or are you lying?'
"'No,' he answered, 'he is going. He told me he was bound to make hisfortune somehow, or try to; so he might as well have a fling for thediamonds.'
"'Oh!' I said; 'wait a bit, Jim; will you take a note to your master,Jim, and promise not to give it to him till you reach Inyati?' whichwas some hundred miles off.
"'Yes, Baas.'
"So I took a scrap of paper, and wrote on it, 'Let him who comes . . .climb the snow of Sheba's left breast, till he reaches the nipple, onthe north side of which is Solomon's great road.'
"'Now, Jim,' I said, 'when you give this to your master, tell him hehad better follow the advice on it implicitly. You are not to give itto him now, because I don't want him back asking me questions which Iwon't answer. Now be off, you idle fellow, the wagon is nearly out ofsight.'
"Jim took the note and went, and that is all I know about your brother,Sir Henry; but I am much afraid--"
"Mr. Quatermain," said Sir Henry, "I am going to look for my brother; Iam going to trace him to Suliman's Mountains, and over them ifnecessary, till I find him, or until I know that he is dead. Will youcome with me?"
I am, as I think I have said, a cautious man, indeed a timid one, andthis suggestion frightened me. It seemed to me that to undertake such ajourney would be to go to certain death, and putting otherconsiderations aside, as I had a son to support, I could not afford todie just then.
"No, thank you, Sir Henry, I think I had rather not," I answered. "I amtoo old for wild-goose chases of that sort, and we should only end uplike my poor friend Silvestre. I have a son dependent on me, so Icannot afford to risk my life foolishly."
Both Sir Henry and Captain Good looked very disappointed.
"Mr. Quatermain," said the former, "I am well off, and I am bent uponthis business. You may put the remuneration for your services atwhatever figure you like in reason, and it shall be paid over to youbefore we start. Moreover, I will arrange in the event of anythinguntoward happening to us or to you, that your son shall be suitablyprovided for. You will see from this offer how necessary I think yourpresence. Also if by chance we should reach this plac
e, and finddiamonds, they shall belong to you and Good equally. I do not wantthem. But of course that promise is worth nothing at all, though thesame thing would apply to any ivory we might get. You may pretty wellmake your own terms with me, Mr. Quatermain; and of course I shall payall expenses."
"Sir Henry," said I, "this is the most liberal proposal I ever had, andone not to be sneezed at by a poor hunter and trader. But the job isthe biggest I have come across, and I must take time to think it over.I will give you my answer before we get to Durban."
"Very good," answered Sir Henry.
Then I said good-night and turned in, and dreamt about poor long-deadSilvestre and the diamonds.
[1] Suliman is the Arabic form of Solomon.--Editor.
[2] Eu Jose da Silvestra que estou morrendo de fome na pequena cova onde nao ha neve ao lado norte do bico mais ao sul das duas montanhas que chamei scio de Sheba; escrevo isto no anno 1590; escrevo isto com um pedaco d'osso n' um farrapo de minha roupa e com sangue meu por tinta; se o meu escravo der com isto quando venha ao levar para Lourenzo Marquez, que o meu amigo --------- leve a cousa ao conhecimento d' El Rei, para que possa mandar um exercito que, se desfiler pelo deserto e pelas montonhas e mesmo sobrepujar os bravos Kukuanes e suas artes diabolicas, pelo que se deviam trazer muitos padres Far o Rei mais rico depois de Salomao Com meus proprios olhos ve os di amantes sem conto guardados nas camaras do thesouro de Salomao a traz da morte branca, mas pela traicao de Gagoal a feiticeira achadora, nada poderia levar, e apenas a minha vida. Quem vier siga o mappa e trepe pela neve de Sheba peito a esquerda ate chegar ao bica, do lado norte do qual esta a grande estrada do Solomao por elle feita, donde ha tres dias de jornada ate ao Palacio do Rei. Mate Gagoal. Reze por minha alma. Adeos. Jose da Silvestra.
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