Part 7 (2/2)
”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 theenuity, Will”
”But what aschen?” asked Fred
”Keep an eye on hih veld? Piffle!
Give Ah German East and keep ahead of the Greeks!”
But Monty was firm ”Yerkes has a plausible excuse, Fred They may wonder why an American should look for land in German East Africa, but they'll let him do it, and perhaps not spy on him to any extent It's o to British East and dazzle Schillingschen! Now, are we agreed?”
We were But we talked, nevertheless, long into the afternoon, and in the end there was not one of us really satisfied Over and over we tried to persuade Monty to omit the Brussels part of the plan We wanted him with us But he stuck to his point, and had his way, as he always did ere quite sure he really wanted it
CHAPTER TWO
THE NJO HAPA SONG
Glea stars in the opal dark, Mirrored along wi' the fire-fly dance of 'longshore light and off-shore hts, and phosphor wake of shi+p and shark
I was old when the fires of Arab shi+ps (All seas were lawless then!) Abode the tide where liners ride To-day, and Malays then,-- Old when the bold da Gama caht, And plunder where the banyans bought, I sighed when the first o' the slaves were brought, And laughed when the last were freed
Deep, oh deeper than anchors drop, the bones o' the outbound sailors lie, Far, oh farther than breath o' wind the rumors o' fabled fortune fly, And the 'venturers yearn from the ends of earth, for none o'
the isles is as fair as I!
The enormous map of Africa loses no lure or mystery from the fact of nearness to the continent itself Rather it increases In the hot upper roo se scalewith our one piracy The great black ceiling beaed table of two-inch planks, floor laid like a dhow's deck--h to stand up under hurricanes and overloads of plunder, or to batten down rebellious slaves--s from rooms belohere men of every race that haunts those shark-infested seas were drinking and telling tales that would make Munchhausen's reputation--steaminess, outer darkness, spicy equatorial s quest united to veil the ination better than a hot-cross bun's could be in Zanzibar and not be conscious of the lure that made adventurers ofSolomon's traders must have made it their headquarters, just as it was Sindbad the Sailor's rendezvous and that of pirates before he or Soloentleman adventurer, conquered it, and no doubt looted the Godowns to a lively tune Wave after wave of Arabs sailed to it (as they do today) from that other land of mystery, Arabia; and there isn't a yard of coral beach, cocoanut-fringed shore, clove orchard, or vanilla patch--not a lemon tree nor a thousand-year-old baobab but could tell of battle and intrigue; not a creek where the dhows lie peacefully today but could whisper of cargoes run by night--black cargoes, groaning fretfully and s of the 'tween-deck lawlessness
”There are two things that have stuck in my memory that Lord Salisbury used to say when I was an Eton boy, spending a holiday at Hatfield House,” said Monty ”One was, Never talk fight unless you ht, don't talk The other was, Always study the largest ht?” de enough to give a real idea of distances, but it helps You see, there's no railway beyond Victoria Nyanza Anything at all anda Borderlands are quarrel-grounds I should say the junction of British, Belgian, and German territory where Arab loot lies buried is the last place to dally in unar for the best guns to be had here”
So I went to bed atdreauns remembers with a thrill; he who has not, has in store for hihtful hours of life May he fall, as our lot was, on a gunsmith who has reater rascals love a wo, clad in the khaki reachmedowns that a Goanese ”universal provider” told us were the ”latest thing,” into a den between a caloo out se to thean again
In a bottle-shaped rooe squeezed between those two centers of coun-store, part Arab, part Italian, part Englishman, apparently older than sin itself, toothless, except for one yellow fang that lay like an ornaly than any siren of the sidewalk
Evidently he shaved at intervals, for white stubble stood out a third of an inch all over his wrinkled face The upper part of his head was utterly bald, slippery, shi+ny, smooth, and adorned by an absurd, round Indian cap, too small, that would not stay in place and had to be hitched at intervals
He said his name was Captain Thomas Cook, and the license to sell firearms framed on the mud-brick wall bore him witness (May he live forever under any name he chooses!)