First reason: Because Sir Henry Curtis and Captain John Good asked me.
Second reason: Because I am laid up here at Durban with the pain in my left leg. Ever since that confounded lion got hold of me I have been liable to this trouble, and being rather bad just now, it makes me limp more than ever. There must be some poison in a lion’s teeth, otherwise how is it that when your wounds are healed they break out again, generally, mark you, at the same time of year that you got your mauling? It is a hard thing when one has shot sixty-five lions or more, as I have in the course of my life, that the sixty-sixth should chew your leg like a quid of tobacco. It breaks the routine of the thing, and putting other considerations aside, I am an orderly man and don’t like that. This is by the way.
Third reason: Because I want my boy Harry3, who is over there at the hospital in London studying to become a doctor, to have something to amuse him and keep him out of mischief4 for a week or so. Hospital work must sometimes pall5 and grow rather dull, for even of cutting up dead bodies there may come satiety6, and as this history will not be dull, whatever else it may be, it will put a little life into things for a day or two while Harry is reading of our adventures.
Fourth reason and last: Because I am going to tell the strangest story that I remember. It may seem a queer thing to say, especially considering that there is no woman in it — except Foulata. Stop, though! there is Gagaoola, if she was a woman, and not a fiend. But she was a hundred at least, and therefore not marriageable, so I don’t count her. At any rate, I can safely say that there is not a petticoat in the whole history.
Well, I had better come to the yoke7. It is a stiff place, and I feel as though I were bogged8 up to the axle. But, “sutjes, sutjes,” as the Boers say — I am sure I don’t know how they spell it — softly does it. A strong team will come through at last, that is, if they are not too poor. You can never do anything with poor oxen. Now to make a start.
I, Allan Quatermain, of Durban, Natal9, Gentleman, make oath and say — That’s how I headed my deposition10 before the magistrate11 about poor Khiva’s and Ventv?gel’s sad deaths; but somehow it doesn’t seem quite the right way to begin a book. And, besides, am I a gentleman? What is a gentleman? I don’t quite know, and yet I have had to do with niggers — no, I will scratch out that word “niggers,” for I do not like it. I’ve known natives who are, and so you will say, Harry, my boy, before you have done with this tale, and I have known mean whites with lots of money and fresh out from home, too, who are not.
At any rate, I was born a gentleman, though I have been nothing but a poor travelling trader and hunter all my life. Whether I have remained so I known not, you must judge of that. Heaven knows I’ve tried. I have killed many men in my time, yet I have never slain12 wantonly or stained my hand in innocent blood, but only in self-defence. The Almighty13 gave us our lives, and I suppose He meant us to defend them, at least I have always acted on that, and I hope it will not be brought up against me when my clock strikes. There, there, it is a cruel and a wicked world, and for a timid man I have been mixed up in a great deal of fighting. I cannot tell the rights of it, but at any rate I have never stolen, though once I cheated a Kafir out of a herd14 of cattle. But then he had done me a dirty turn, and it has troubled me ever since into the bargain.
Well, it is eighteen months or so ago since first I met Sir Henry Curtis and Captain Good. It was in this way. I had been up elephant hunting beyond Bamangwato, and had met with bad luck. Everything went wrong that trip, and to top up with I got the fever badly. So soon as I was well enough I trekked15 down to the Diamond Fields, sold such ivory as I had, together with my wagon16 and oxen, discharged my hunters, and took the post-cart to the Cape17. After spending a week in Cape Town, finding that they overcharged me at the hotel, and having seen everything there was to see, including the botanical gardens, which seem to me likely to confer a great benefit on the country, and the new Houses of Parliament, which I expect will do nothing of the sort, I determined18 to go back to Natal by the Dunkeld, then lying at the docks waiting for the Edinburgh Castle due in from England. I took my berth19 and went aboard, and that afternoon the Natal passengers from the Edinburgh Castle transhipped, and we weighed and put to sea.
Among these passengers who came on board were two who excited my curiosity. One, a gentleman of about thirty, was perhaps the biggest-chested and longest-armed man I ever saw. He had yellow hair, a thick yellow beard, clear-cut features, and large grey eyes set deep in his head. I never saw a finer-looking man, and somehow he reminded me of an ancient Dane. Not that I know much of ancient Danes, though I knew a modern Dane who did me out of ten pounds; but I remember once seeing a picture of some of those gentry20, who, I take it, were a kind of white Zulus. They were drinking out of big horns, and their long hair hung down their backs. As I looked at my friend standing21 there by the companion-ladder, I thought that if he only let his grow a little, put one of those chain shirts on to his great shoulders, and took hold of a battle-axe and a horn mug, he might have sat as a model for that picture. And by the way it is a curious thing, and just shows how the blood will out, I discovered afterwards that Sir Henry Curtis, for that was the big man’s name, is of Danish blood.2 He also reminded me strongly of somebody else, but at the time I could not remember who it was.
The other man, who stood talking to Sir Henry, was stout22 and dark, and of quite a different cut. I suspected at once that he was a naval23 officer; I don’t know why, but it is difficult to mistake a navy man. I have gone shooting trips with several of them in the course of my life, and they have always proved themselves the best and bravest and nicest fellows I ever met, though sadly given, some of them, to the use of profane24 language. I asked a page or two back, what is a gentleman? I’ll answer the question now: A Royal Naval officer is, in a general sort of way, though of course there may be a black sheep among them here and there. I fancy it is just the wide seas and the breath of God’s winds that wash their hearts and blow the bitterness out of their minds and make them what men ought to be.
Well, to return, I proved right again; I ascertained25 that the dark man was a naval officer, a lieutenant26 of thirty-one, who, after seventeen years’ service, had been turned out of her Majesty’s employ with the barren honour of a commander’s rank, because it was impossible that he should be promoted. This is what people who serve the Queen have to expect: to be shot out into the cold world to find a living just when they are beginning really to understand their work, and to reach the prime of life. I suppose they don’t mind it, but for my own part I had rather earn my bread as a hunter. One’s halfpence are as scarce perhaps, but you do not get so many kicks.
The officer’s name I found out — by referring to the passengers’ lists — was Good — Captain John Good. He was broad, of medium height, dark, stout, and rather a curious man to look at. He was so very neat and so very clean-shaved, and he always wore an eye-glass in his right eye. It seemed to grow there, for it had no string, and he never took it out except to wipe it. At first I thought he used to sleep in it, but afterwards I found that this was a mistake. He put it in his trousers pocket when he went to bed, together with his false teeth, of which he had two beautiful sets that, my own being none of the best, have often caused me to break the tenth commandment. But I am anticipating.
Soon after we had got under way evening closed in, and brought with it very dirty weather. A keen breeze sprung up off land, and a kind of aggravated27 Scotch28 mist soon drove everybody from the deck. As for the Dunkeld, she is a flat-bottomed punt, and going up light as she was, she rolled very heavily. It almost seemed as though she would go right over, but she never did. It was quite impossible to walk about, so I stood near the engines where it was warm, and amused myself with watching the pendulum29, which was fixed30 opposite to me, swinging slowly backwards31 and forwards as the vessel32 rolled, and marking the angle she touched at each lurch33.
“That pendulum’s wrong; it is not properly weighted,” suddenly said a somewhat testy34 voice at my shoulder. Looking round I saw the naval officer whom I had noticed when the passengers came aboard.
“Indeed, now what makes you think so?” I asked.
“Think so. I don’t think at all. Why there”— as she righted herself after a roll —“if the ship had really rolled to the degree that thing pointed35 to, then she would never have rolled again, that’s all. But it is just like these merchant skippers, they are always so confoundedly careless.”
Just then the dinner-bell rang, and I was not sorry, for it is a dreadful thing to have to listen to an officer of the Royal Navy when he gets on to that subject. I only know one worse thing, and that is to hear a merchant skipper express his candid36 opinion of officers of the Royal Navy.
Captain Good and I went down to dinner together, and there we found Sir Henry Curtis already seated. He and Captain Good were placed together, and I sat opposite to them. The captain and I soon fell into talk about shooting and what not; he asking me many questions, for he is very inquisitive37 about all sorts of things, and I answering them as well as I could. Presently he got on to elephants.
“Ah, sir,” called out somebody who was sitting near me, “you’ve reached the right man for that; Hunter Quatermain should be able to tell you about elephants if anybody can.”
Sir Henry, who had been sitting quite quiet listening to our talk, started visibly.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said, leaning forward across the table, and speaking in a low deep voice, a very suitable voice, it seemed to me, to come out of those great lungs. “Excuse me, sir, but is your name Allan Quatermain?”
I said that it was.
The big man made no further remark, but I heard him mutter “fortunate” into his beard.
Presently dinner came to an end, and as we were leaving the saloon Sir Henry strolled up and asked me if I would come into his cabin to smoke a pipe. I accepted, and he led the way to the Dunkeld deck cabin, and a very good cabin it is. It had been two cabins, but when Sir Garnet Wolseley or one of those big swells38 went down the coast in the Dunkeld, they knocked away the partition and have never put it up again. There was a sofa in the cabin, and a little table in front of it. Sir Henry sent the steward39 for a bottle of whisky, and the three of us sat down and lit our pipes.
“Mr. Quatermain,” said Sir Henry Curtis, when the man had brought the whisky and lit the lamp, “the year before last about this time, you were, I believe, at a place called Bamangwato, to the north of the Transvaal.”
“I was,” I answered, rather surprised that this gentleman should be so well acquainted with my movements, which were not, so far as I was aware, considered of general interest.
“You were trading there, were you not?” put in Captain Good, in his quick way.
“I was. I took up a wagon-load of goods, made a camp outside the settlement, and stopped till I had sold them.”
Sir Henry was sitting opposite to me in a Madeira chair, his arms leaning on the table. He now looked up, fixing his large grey eyes full upon my face. There was a curious anxiety in them, I thought.
“Did you happen to meet a man called Neville there?”
“Oh, yes; he outspanned alongside of me for a fortnight to rest his oxen before going on to the interior. I had a letter from a lawyer a few months back, asking me if I knew what had become of him, which I answered to the best of my ability at the time.”
“Yes,” said Sir Henry, “your letter was forwarded to me. You said in it that the gentleman called Neville left Bamangwato at the beginning of May in a wagon with a driver, a voorlooper, and a Kafir hunter called Jim, announcing his intention of trekking40 if possible as far as Inyati, the extreme trading post in the Matabele country, where he would sell his wagon and proceed on foot. You also said that he did sell his wagon, for six months afterwards you saw the wagon in the possession of a Portuguese41 trader, who told you that he had bought it at Inyati from a white man whose name he had forgotten, and that he believed the white man with the native servant had started off for the interior on a shooting trip.”
“Yes.”
Then came a pause.
“Mr. Quatermain,” said Sir Henry suddenly, “I suppose you know or can guess nothing more of the reasons of my — of Mr. Neville’s journey to the northward42, or as to what point that journey was directed?”
“I heard something,” I answered, and stopped. The subject was one which I did not care to discuss.
Sir Henry and Captain Good looked at each other, and Captain Good nodded.
“Mr. Quatermain,” went on the former, “I am going to tell you a story, and ask your advice, and perhaps your assistance. The agent who forwarded me your letter told me that I might rely on it implicitly43, as you were,” he said, “well known and universally respected in Natal, and especially noted44 for your discretion45.”
I bowed and drank some whisky and water to hide my confusion, for I am a modest man — and Sir Henry went on.
“Mr. Neville was my brother.”
“Oh,” I said, starting, for now I knew of whom Sir Henry had reminded me when first I saw him. His brother was a much smaller man and had a dark beard, but now that I thought of it, he possessed46 eyes of the same shade of grey and with the same keen look in them: the features too were not unlike.
“He was,” went on Sir Henry, “my only and younger brother, and till five years ago I do not suppose that we were ever a month away from each other. But just about five years ago a misfortune befell us, as sometimes does happen in families. We quarrelled bitterly, and I behaved unjustly to my brother in my anger.”
Here Captain Good nodded his head vigorously to himself. The ship gave a big roll just then, so that the looking-glass, which was fixed opposite us to starboard, was for a moment nearly over our heads, and as I was sitting with my hands in my pockets and staring upwards47, I could see him nodding like anything.
“As I daresay you know,” went on Sir Henry, “if a man dies intestate, and has no property but land, real property it is called in England, it all descends48 to his eldest49 son. It so happened that just at the time when we quarrelled our father died intestate. He had put off making his will until it was too late. The result was that my brother, who had not been brought up to any profession, was left without a penny. Of course it would have been my duty to provide for him, but at the time the quarrel between us was so bitter that I did not — to my shame I say it (and he sighed deeply)— offer to do anything. It was not that I grudged50 him justice, but I waited for him to make advances, and he made none. I am sorry to trouble you with all this, Mr. Quatermain, but I must to make things clear, eh, Good?”
“Quite so, quite so,” said the captain. “Mr. Quatermain will, I am sure, keep this history to himself.”
“Of course,” said I, for I rather pride myself on my discretion, for which, as Sir Henry had heard, I have some repute.
“Well,” went on Sir Henry, “my brother had a few hundred pounds to his account at the time. Without saying anything to me he drew out this paltry51 sum, and, having adopted the name of Neville, started off for South Africa in the wild hope of making a fortune. This I learned afterwards. Some three years passed, and I heard nothing of my brother, though I wrote several times. Doubtless the letters never reached him. But as time went on I grew more and more troubled about him. I found out, Mr. Quatermain, that blood is thicker than water.”
“That’s true,” said I, thinking of my boy Harry.
“I found out, Mr. Quatermain, that I would have given half my fortune to know that my brother George, the only relation I possess, was safe and well, and that I should see him again.”
“But you never did, Curtis,” jerked out Captain Good, glancing at the big man’s face.
“Well, Mr. Quatermain, as time went on I became more and more anxious to find out if my brother was alive or dead, and if alive to get him home again. I set enquiries on foot, and your letter was one of the results. So far as it went it was satisfactory, for it showed that till lately George was alive, but it did not go far enough. So, to cut a long story short, I made up my mind to come out and look for him myself, and Captain Good was so kind as to come with me.”
“Yes,” said the captain; “nothing else to do, you see. Turned out by my Lords of the Admiralty to starve on half pay. And now perhaps, sir, you will tell us what you know or have heard of the gentleman called Neville.”
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1
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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satiety
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| n.饱和；(市场的)充分供应 | |
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yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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8
bogged
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| adj.陷于泥沼的v.（使）陷入泥沼， （使）陷入困境( bog的过去式和过去分词 )；妨碍，阻碍 | |
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9
natal
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| adj.出生的，先天的 | |
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deposition
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| n.免职，罢官；作证；沉淀；沉淀物 | |
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magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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12
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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15
trekked
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| v.艰苦跋涉，徒步旅行( trek的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指在山中）远足，徒步旅行，游山玩水 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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27
aggravated
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| 使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使更严重； 激怒； 使恼火 | |
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28
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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pendulum
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| n.摆，钟摆 | |
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30
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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31
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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32
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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testy
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| adj.易怒的；暴躁的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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38
swells
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| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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39
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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40
trekking
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| v.艰苦跋涉，徒步旅行( trek的现在分词 )；（尤指在山中）远足，徒步旅行，游山玩水 | |
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41
Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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42
northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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43
implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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44
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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45
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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46
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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47
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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48
descends
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| v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 )；下去；下降；下斜 | |
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49
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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50
grudged
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| 怀恨（grudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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51
paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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