“Curse this country! Curse it—curse it!” The man spoke3 aloud, but there was no one near to hear. He shook his skinny yellow fist out over the broad river that crept greasily4 down to the equatorial sea.
All around him the vegetable kingdom had asserted its sovereignty. At his back loomed5 a dense6 forest, impenetrable to the foot of man, defying his puny7 hand armed with axe8 or saw. The trees were not high, few of them being above twenty feet, but from their branches creepers and parasites9 hung in tangled10 profusion11, interlaced, joining tree to tree for acres, nay12 for miles.
As far as the eye could reach either bank of the slow river was thus covered with rank vegetation—mile after mile without variety, without hope. The glassy surface of the water was broken here and there by certain black forms floating like logs half hidden beneath the wave. These were crocodiles. The river was the Ogowe, and the man who cursed it was Victor Durnovo, employe of the Loango Trading Association, whose business it was at that season to travel into the interior of Africa to buy, barter13, or steal ivory for his masters.
He was a small-faced man, with a squarely aquiline14 nose and a black moustache, which hung like a valance over his mouth. From the growth of that curtain-like moustache Victor Durnovo's worldly prosperity might have been said to date. No one seeing his mouth had before that time been prevailed upon to trust him. Nature has a way of hanging out signs and then covering them up, so that the casual fail to see. He was a man of medium height, with abnormally long arms and a somewhat truculent15 way of walking, as if his foot was ever ready to kick anything or any person who might come in his way.
His movements were nervous and restless, although he was tired out and half-starved. The irritability16 of Africa was upon him—had hold over him—gripped him remorselessly. No one knows what it is, but it is there, and sometimes it is responsible for murder. It makes honourable17 European gentlemen commit crimes of which they blush to think in after days. The Powers may draw up treaties and sign the same, but there will never be a peaceful division of the great wasted land so near to Southern Europe. There may be peace in Berlin, or Brussels, or London, but because the atmosphere of Africa is not the same as that of the great cities, there will be no peace beneath the Equator. From the West Coast of Africa to the East men will fight and quarrel and bicker18 so long as human nerves are human nerves. The irritability lurks19 in the shades of boundless20 forests where men may starve for want of animal sustenance21; it hovers22 over the broad bosoms23 of a hundred slow rivers haunted by the mysterious crocodile, the weird24 hippopotamus25. It is everywhere, and by reason of it men quarrel about trifles and descend26 to brutal27 passion over a futile28 discussion.
Victor Durnovo had sent his boatmen into the forest to find a few bananas, a few handsful of firewood, and while they were absent he gave vent29 to that wild unreasoning passion which is inhaled30 into the white man's lungs with the air of equatorial Africa. For there are moral microbes in the atmosphere of different countries, and we must not judge one land by the laws of another. There is the fatalism of India, the restlessness of New York, the fear of the Arctic, the irritability of Africa.
“Curse this country!” he shouted, “curse it—curse it! River and tree—man and beast!”
He rose and slouched down to his boat, which lay moored31 to a snag alongside the bank, trodden hard to the consistency32 of asphalte by a hundred bare feet. He stepped over the gunwale and made his way aft with a practised balancing step. The after part of the canoe was decked in and closed with lock and key. The key hung at his watch-chain—a large chain with square links and a suggestive doubtfulness of colour. It might have been gold, but the man who wore it somehow imparted to it a suggestion of baser metal.
He opened the locker33 and took from it a small chest. From this he selected a bottle, and, rummaging34 in the recesses35 of the locker, he found an unwashed tumbler. Into half a glass of water he dropped a minute quantity from the bottle and drank off the mixture. The passion had left him now, and quite suddenly he looked yellow and very weak. He was treating himself scientifically for the irritability to which he had given way. Then he returned to the bank and laid down at full length. The skin of his face must have been giving him great pain, for it was scarlet36 in places and exuding37 from sun-blisters. He had long ago given up wiping the perspiration38 from his brow, and evidently did not care to wash his face.
Presently a peacefulness seemed to come over him, for his eyes lost their glitter and his heavy lids drooped39. His arms were crossed behind his head—before him lay the river.
Suddenly he sat upright, all eagerness and attention. Not a leaf stirred. It was about five o'clock in the evening, the stillest hour of the twenty-four. In such a silence the least sound would travel almost any distance, and there was a sound travelling over the water to him. It was nothing but a thud repeated with singular regularity40; but to his practised ears it conveyed much. He knew that a boat was approaching, as yet hidden by some distant curve in the river. The thud was caused by the contact of six paddles with the gunwale of the canoe as the paddlers withdrew them from the water.
Victor Durnovo rose again and brought from the boat a second rifle, which he laid beside the double-barrelled Reilly which was never more than a yard away from him, waking or sleeping. Then he waited. He knew that no boat could reach the bank without his full permission, for every rower would be dead before they got within a hundred yards of his rifle. He was probably the best rifle-shot but one in that country—and the other, the very best, happened to be in the approaching canoe.
After the space of ten minutes the boat came in sight—a long black form on the still waters. It was too far away for him to distinguish anything beyond the fact that it was a native boat.
“Eight hundred yards,” muttered Durnovo over the sight of his rifle.
He looked upon this river as his own, and he knew the native of equatorial Africa. Therefore he dropped a bullet into the water, under the bow of the canoe, at eight hundred yards.
A moment later there was a sound which can only be written “P-ttt” between his legs, and he had to wipe a shower of dust from his eyes. A puff41 of blue smoke rose slowly over the boat and a sharp report broke the silence a second time.
Then Victor Durnovo leapt to his feet and waved his hat in the air. From the canoe there was an answering greeting, and the man on the bank went to the water's edge, still carrying the rifle from which he was never parted.
Durnovo was the first to speak when the boat came within hail.
“Very sorry,” he shouted. “Thought you were a native boat. Must establish a funk—get in the first shot, you know.”
“All right,” replied one of the Europeans in the approaching craft, with a courteous42 wave of the hand, “no harm done.”
There were two white men and six blacks in the long and clumsy boat. One of the Europeans lay in the bows while the other was stretched at his ease in the stern, reclining on the canvas of a neatly43 folded tent. The last-named was evidently the leader of the little expedition, while the manner and attitude of the man in the bows suggested the servitude of a disciplined soldier slightly relaxed by abnormal circumstances.
“Who fired that shot?” inquired Durnovo, when there was no longer any necessity to shout.
“Joseph,” replied the man in the stern of the boat, indicating his companion. “Was it a near thing?”
“About as near as I care about—it threw up the dust between my legs.”
The man called Joseph grinned. Nature had given him liberally of the wherewithal for indulgence in that relaxation44, and Durnovo smiled rather constrainedly45. Joseph was grabbing at the long reedy grass, bringing the canoe to a standstill, and it was some moments before his extensive mouth submitted to control.
“I presume you are Mr. Durnovo,” said the man in the stern of the boat, rising leisurely46 from his recumbent position and speaking with a courteous savoir-faire which seemed slightly out of place in the wilds of Central Africa. He was a tall man with a small aristocratic head and a refined face, which somehow suggested an aristocrat47 of old France.
“Yes,” answered Durnovo.
“I am glad we have met you,” he said; “I have a letter of introduction to you from Maurice Gordon, of Loango.”
Victor Durnovo's dark face changed slightly; his eyes—bilious, fever-shot, unhealthy—took a new light.
“Ah!” he answered, “are you a friend of Maurice Gordon's?”
There was another question in this, an unasked one; and Victor Durnovo was watching for the answer. But the face he watched was like a delicately carved piece of brown marble, with a courteous, impenetrable smile.
“I met him again the other day at Loango. He is an old Etonian like myself.”
This conveyed nothing to Durnovo, who belonged to a different world, whose education was, like other things about him, an unknown quantity.
They were walking up the bank towards the dusky and uninviting tent.
“And the other fellow?” inquired Durnovo, with a backward jerk of the head.
“Oh—he is my servant.”
Durnovo raised his eyebrows50 in somewhat contemptuous amusement, and proceeded to open the letter which Meredith had handed him.
“Not many fellows,” he said, “on this coast can afford to keep a European servant.”
“But,” he said courteously52, “I suppose you find these coloured chaps just as good when they have once got into your ways?”
“Oh yes,” muttered Durnovo. He was reading the letter. “Maurice Gordon,” he continued, “says you are travelling for pleasure—just looking about you. What do you think of it?”
“A bit suggestive of Hell,” he went on, “eh? How does it strike you?”
“Finer timber, I should think,” suggested Jack Meredith, and Durnovo laughed more pleasantly.
“The truth is,” he explained, “that it strikes one as a bit absurd that any man should travel up here for pleasure. If you take my advice you will come down-stream again with me to-morrow.”
He evidently distrusted him; and the sidelong, furtive55 glance suggested vaguely56 that Victor Durnovo had something farther up this river which he wished to keep concealed57.
“I understand,” answered Meredith, with a half-suppressed yawn, “that the country gets finer farther up—more mountainous—less suggestive of—Hell.”
The proprietors58 of very dark eyes would do well to remember that it is dangerous to glance furtively59 to one side or the other. The attention of dark eyes is more easily felt than the glances of grey or blue orbs60.
Jack Meredith's suspicions were aroused by the suspicious manner of his interlocutor.
“There is no white man knows this river as I do, and I do not recommend it. Look at me—on the verge61 of jaundice—look at this wound on my arm; it began with a scratch and has never healed. All that comes from a month up this cursed river. Take my advice, try somewhere else.”
“I certainly shall,” replied Meredith. “We will discuss it after dinner. My chap is a first-rate cook. Have you got anything to add to the menu?”
“Not a thing. I've been living on plantains and dried elephant-meat for the last fortnight.”
“Doesn't sound nourishing. Well, we are pretty well provided, so perhaps you will give me the pleasure of your company to dinner? Come as you are: no ceremony. I think I will wash though. It is as well to keep up these old customs.”
With a pleasant smile he went towards the tent which had just been erected62. Joseph was very busy, and his admonishing63 voice was heard at times.
“Here, Johnny, hammer in that peg64. Now, old cups and saucers, stop that grinning and fetch me some water. None of your frogs and creepy crawly thing this time, my blonde beauty, but clean water, comprenny?”
With these and similar lightsome turns of speech was Joseph in the habit of keeping his men up to the mark. The method was eminently65 successful. His coloured compeers crowded round him “all of a grin,” as he himself described it, and eager to do his slightest behest. From the throne to the back-kitchen the secret of success is the art of managing men—and women.
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1
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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vacuity
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| n.(想象力等)贫乏，无聊，空白 | |
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3
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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greasily
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| adv.多脂，油腻，滑溜地 | |
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5
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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7
puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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9
parasites
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| 寄生物( parasite的名词复数 )； 靠他人为生的人； 诸虫 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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barter
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| n.物物交换，以货易货，实物交易 | |
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aquiline
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| adj.钩状的，鹰的 | |
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15
truculent
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| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
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irritability
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| n.易怒 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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bicker
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| vi.(为小事)吵嘴，争吵 | |
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19
lurks
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| n.潜在，潜伏；（lurk的复数形式）vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的第三人称单数形式） | |
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20
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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21
sustenance
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| n.食物，粮食；生活资料；生计 | |
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hovers
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| 鸟( hover的第三人称单数 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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23
bosoms
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| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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24
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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hippopotamus
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| n.河马 | |
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26
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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29
vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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inhaled
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| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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consistency
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| n.一贯性，前后一致，稳定性；(液体的)浓度 | |
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locker
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| n.更衣箱，储物柜，冷藏室，上锁的人 | |
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rummaging
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的现在分词 )； 海关检查 | |
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35
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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37
exuding
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| v.缓慢流出，渗出，分泌出( exude的现在分词 )；流露出对（某物）的神态或感情 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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39
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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41
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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42
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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44
relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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45
constrainedly
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| 不自然地，勉强地，强制地 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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47
aristocrat
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| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
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48
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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49
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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50
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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51
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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52
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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53
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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54
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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55
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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56
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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57
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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proprietors
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| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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orbs
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| abbr.off-reservation boarding school 在校寄宿学校n.球，天体，圆形物( orb的名词复数 ) | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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62
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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63
admonishing
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| v.劝告( admonish的现在分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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64
peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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