"This is a Bland's .577 axite express," said he. "I got that bigfellow with it." He glanced up at the white rhinoceros. "Ten moreyards, and he'd would have added me to HIS collection.
'On that conical bullet his one chance hangs, 'Tis the weak one's advantage fair.'
Hope you know your Gordon, for he's the poet of the horse and the gunand the man that handles both. Now, here's a useful tool--.470,telescopic sight, double ejector, point-blank up to three-fifty.That's the rifle I used against the Peruvian slave-drivers three yearsago. I was the flail of the Lord up in those parts, I may tell you,though you won't find it in any Blue-book. There are times, youngfellah, when every one of us must make a stand for human right andjustice, or you never feel clean again. That's why I made a little waron my own. Declared it myself, waged it myself, ended it myself. Eachof those nicks is for a slave murderer--a good row of them--what? Thatbig one is for Pedro Lopez, the king of them all, that I killed in abackwater of the Putomayo River. Now, here's something that would dofor you." He took out a beautiful brown-and-silver rifle. "Wellrubbered at the stock, sharply sighted, five cartridges to the clip.You can trust your life to that." He handed it to me and closed thedoor of his oak cabinet.
"By the way," he continued, coming back to his chair, "what do you knowof this Professor Challenger?"
"I never saw him till to-day."
"Well, neither did I. It's funny we should both sail under sealedorders from a man we don't know. He seemed an uppish old bird. Hisbrothers of science don't seem too fond of him, either. How came youto take an interest in the affair?"
I told him shortly my experiences of the morning, and he listenedintently. Then he drew out a map of South America and laid it on thetable.
"I believe every single word he said to you was the truth," said he,earnestly, "and, mind you, I have something to go on when I speak likethat. South America is a place I love, and I think, if you take itright through from Darien to Fuego, it's the grandest, richest, mostwonderful bit of earth upon this planet. People don't know it yet, anddon't realize what it may become. I've been up an' down it from end toend, and had two dry seasons in those very parts, as I told you when Ispoke of the war I made on the slave-dealers. Well, when I was upthere I heard some yarns of the same kind--traditions of Indians andthe like, but with somethin' behind them, no doubt. The more you knewof that country, young fellah, the more you would understand thatanythin' was possible--ANYTHIN'! There are just some narrowwater-lanes along which folk travel, and outside that it is alldarkness. Now, down here in the Matto Grande"--he swept his cigar overa part of the map--"or up in this corner where three countries meet,nothin' would surprise me. As that chap said to-night, there arefifty-thousand miles of water-way runnin' through a forest that is verynear the size of Europe. You and I could be as far away from eachother as Scotland is from Constantinople, and yet each of us be in thesame great Brazilian forest. Man has just made a track here and ascrape there in the maze. Why, the river rises and falls the best partof forty feet, and half the country is a morass that you can't passover. Why shouldn't somethin' new and wonderful lie in such a country?And why shouldn't we be the men to find it out? Besides," he added,his queer, gaunt face shining with delight, "there's a sportin' risk inevery mile of it. I'm like an old golf-ball--I've had all the whitepaint knocked off me long ago. Life can whack me about now, and itcan't leave a mark. But a sportin' risk, young fellah, that's the saltof existence. Then it's worth livin' again. We're all gettin' a dealtoo soft and dull and comfy. Give me the great waste lands and thewide spaces, with a gun in my fist and somethin' to look for that'sworth findin'. I've tried war and steeplechasin' and aeroplanes, butthis huntin' of beasts that look like a lobster-supper dream is abrand-new sensation." He chuckled with glee at the prospect.
Perhaps I have dwelt too long upon this new acquaintance, but he is tobe my comrade for many a day, and so I have tried to set him down as Ifirst saw him, with his quaint personality and his queer little tricksof speech and of thought. It was only the need of getting in theaccount of my meeting which drew me at last from his company. I lefthim seated amid his pink radiance, oiling the lock of his favoriterifle, while he still chuckled to himself at the thought of theadventures which awaited us. It was very clear to me that if dangerslay before us I could not in all England have found a cooler head or abraver spirit with which to share them.
That night, wearied as I was after the wonderful happenings of the day,I sat late with McArdle, the news editor, explaining to him the wholesituation, which he thought important enough to bring next morningbefore the notice of Sir George Beaumont, the chief. It was agreedthat I should write home full accounts of my adventures in the shape ofsuccessive letters to McArdle, and that these should either be editedfor the Gazette as they arrived, or held back to be published later,according to the wishes of Professor Challenger, since we could not yetknow what conditions he might attach to those directions which shouldguide us to the unknown land. In response to a telephone inquiry, wereceived nothing more definite than a fulmination against the Press,ending up with the remark that if we would notify our boat he wouldhand us any directions which he might think it proper to give us at themoment of starting. A second question from us failed to elicit anyanswer at all, save a plaintive bleat from his wife to the effect thather husband was in a very violent temper already, and that she hoped wewould do nothing to make it worse. A third attempt, later in the day,provoked a terrific crash, and a subsequent message from the CentralExchange that Professor Challenger's receiver had been shattered.After that we abandoned all attempt at communication.
And now my patient readers, I can address you directly no longer. Fromnow onwards (if, indeed, any continuation of this narrative should everreach you) it can only be through the paper which I represent. In thehands of the editor I leave this account of the events which have ledup to one of the most remarkable expeditions of all time, so that if Inever return to England there shall be some record as to how the affaircame about. I am writing these last lines in the saloon of the Boothliner Francisca, and they will go back by the pilot to the keeping ofMr. McArdle. Let me draw one last picture before I close thenotebook--a picture which is the last memory of the old country which Ibear away with me. It is a wet, foggy morning in the late spring; athin, cold rain is falling. Three shining mackintoshed figures arewalking down the quay, making for the gang-plank of the great linerfrom which the blue-peter is flying. In front of them a porter pushesa trolley piled high with trunks, wraps, and gun-cases. ProfessorSummerlee, a long, melancholy figure, walks with dragging steps anddrooping head, as one who is already profoundly sorry for himself.Lord John Roxton steps briskly, and his thin, eager face beams forthbetween his hunting-cap and his muffler. As for myself, I am glad tohave got the bustling days of preparation and the pangs of leave-takingbehind me, and I have no doubt that I show it in my bearing. Suddenly,just as we reach the vessel, there is a shout behind us. It isProfessor Challenger, who had promised to see us off. He runs afterus, a puffing, red-faced, irascible figure.
"No thank you," says he; "I should much prefer not to go aboard. Ihave only a few words to say to you, and they can very well be saidwhere we are. I beg you not to imagine that I am in any way indebtedto you for making this journey. I would have you to understand that itis a matter of perfect indifference to me, and I refuse to entertainthe most remote sense of personal obligation. Truth is truth, andnothing which you can report can affect it in any way, though it mayexcite the emotions and allay the curiosity of a number of veryineffectual people. My directions for your instruction and guidanceare in this sealed envelope. You will open it when you reach a townupon
the Amazon which is called Manaos, but not until the date and hourwhich is marked upon the outside. Have I made myself clear? I leavethe strict observance of my conditions entirely to your honor. No, Mr.Malone, I will place no restriction upon your correspondence, since theventilation of the facts is the object of your journey; but I demandthat you shall give no particulars as to your exact destination, andthat nothing be actually published until your return. Good-bye, sir.You have done something to mitigate my feelings for the loathsomeprofession to which you unhappily belong. Good-bye, Lord John.Science is, as I understand, a sealed book to you; but you maycongratulate yourself upon the hunting-field which awaits you. Youwill, no doubt, have the opportunity of describing in the Field how youbrought down the rocketing dimorphodon. And good-bye to you also,Professor Summerlee. If you are still capable of self-improvement, ofwhich I am frankly unconvinced, you will surely return to London awiser man."
So he turned upon his heel, and a minute later from the deck I couldsee his short, squat figure bobbing about in the distance as he madehis way back to his train. Well, we are well down Channel now.There's the last bell for letters, and it's good-bye to the pilot.We'll be "down, hull-down, on the old trail" from now on. God blessall we leave behind us, and send us safely back.
CHAPTER VII
"To-morrow we Disappear into the Unknown"
I will not bore those whom this narrative may reach by an account ofour luxurious voyage upon the Booth liner, nor will I tell of ourweek's stay at Para (save that I should wish to acknowledge the greatkindness of the Pereira da Pinta Company in helping us to get togetherour equipment). I will also allude very briefly to our river journey,up a wide, slow-moving, clay-tinted stream, in a steamer which waslittle smaller than that which had carried us across the Atlantic.Eventually we found ourselves through the narrows of Obidos and reachedthe town of Manaos. Here we were rescued from the limited attractionsof the local inn by Mr. Shortman, the representative of the British andBrazilian Trading Company. In his hospitable Fazenda we spent our timeuntil the day when we were empowered to open the letter of instructionsgiven to us by Professor Challenger. Before I reach the surprisingevents of that date I would desire to give a clearer sketch of mycomrades in this enterprise, and of the associates whom we had alreadygathered together in South America. I speak freely, and I leave theuse of my material to your own discretion, Mr. McArdle, since it isthrough your hands that this report must pass before it reaches theworld.
The scientific attainments of Professor Summerlee are too well knownfor me to trouble to recapitulate them. He is better equipped for arough expedition of this sort than one would imagine at first sight.His tall, gaunt, stringy figure is insensible to fatigue, and his dry,half-sarcastic, and often wholly unsympathetic manner is uninfluencedby any change in his surroundings. Though in his sixty-sixth year, Ihave never heard him express any dissatisfaction at the occasionalhardships which we have had to encounter. I had regarded his presenceas an encumbrance to the expedition, but, as a matter of fact, I am nowwell convinced that his power of endurance is as great as my own. Intemper he is naturally acid and sceptical. From the beginning he hasnever concealed his belief that Professor Challenger is an absolutefraud, that we are all embarked upon an absurd wild-goose chase andthat we are likely to reap nothing but disappointment and danger inSouth America, and corresponding ridicule in England. Such are theviews which, with much passionate distortion of his thin features andwagging of his thin, goat-like beard, he poured into our ears all theway from Southampton to Manaos. Since landing from the boat he hasobtained some consolation from the beauty and variety of the insect andbird life around him, for he is absolutely whole-hearted in hisdevotion to science. He spends his days flitting through the woodswith his shot-gun and his butterfly-net, and his evenings in mountingthe many specimens he has acquired. Among his minor peculiarities arethat he is careless as to his attire, unclean in his person,exceedingly absent-minded in his habits, and addicted to smoking ashort briar pipe, which is seldom out of his mouth. He has been uponseveral scientific expeditions in his youth (he was with Robertson inPapua), and the life of the camp and the canoe is nothing fresh to him.
Lord John Roxton has some points in common with Professor Summerlee,and others in which they are the very antithesis to each other. He istwenty years younger, but has something of the same spare, scraggyphysique. As to his appearance, I have, as I recollect, described itin that portion of my narrative which I have left behind me in London.He is exceedingly neat and prim in his ways, dresses always with greatcare in white drill suits and high brown mosquito-boots, and shaves atleast once a day. Like most men of action, he is laconic in speech,and sinks readily into his own thoughts, but he is always quick toanswer a question or join in a conversation, talking in a queer, jerky,half-humorous fashion. His knowledge of the world, and very especiallyof South America, is surprising, and he has a whole-hearted belief inthe possibilities of our journey which is not to be dashed by thesneers of Professor Summerlee. He has a gentle voice and a quietmanner, but behind his twinkling blue eyes there lurks a capacity forfurious wrath and implacable resolution, the more dangerous becausethey are held in leash. He spoke little of his own exploits in Braziland Peru, but it was a revelation to me to find the excitement whichwas caused by his presence among the riverine natives, who looked uponhim as their champion and protector. The exploits of the Red Chief, asthey called him, had become legends among them, but the real facts, asfar as I could learn them, were amazing enough.
These were that Lord John had found himself some years before in thatno-man's-land which is formed by the half-defined frontiers betweenPeru, Brazil, and Columbia. In this great district the wild rubbertree flourishes, and has become, as in the Congo, a curse to thenatives which can only be compared to their forced labor under theSpaniards upon the old silver mines of Darien. A handful of villainoushalf-breeds dominated the country, armed such Indians as would supportthem, and turned the rest into slaves, terrorizing them with the mostinhuman tortures in order to force them to gather the india-rubber,which was then floated down the river to Para. Lord John Roxtonexpostulated on behalf of the wretched victims, and received nothingbut threats and insults for his pains. He then formally declared waragainst Pedro Lopez, the leader of the slave-drivers, enrolled a bandof runaway slaves in his service, armed them, and conducted a campaign,which ended by his killing with his own hands the notorious half-breedand breaking down the system which he represented.
No wonder that the ginger-headed man with the silky voice and the freeand easy manners was now looked upon with deep interest upon the banksof the great South American river, though the feelings he inspired werenaturally mixed, since the gratitude of the natives was equaled by theresentment of those who desired to exploit them. One useful result ofhis former experiences was that he could talk fluently in the LingoaGeral, which is the peculiar talk, one-third Portuguese and two-thirdsIndian, which is current all over Brazil.
I have said before that Lord John Roxton was a South Americomaniac. Hecould not speak of that great country without ardor, and this ardor wasinfectious, for, ignorant as I was, he fixed my attention andstimulated my curiosity. How I wish I could reproduce the glamour ofhis discourses, the peculiar mixture of accurate knowledge and of racyimagination which gave them their fascination, until even theProfessor's cynical and sceptical smile would gradually vanish from histhin face as he listened. He would tell the history of the mightyriver so rapidly explored (for some of the first conquerors of Peruactually crossed the entire continent upon its waters), and yet sounknown in regard to all that lay behind its ever-changing banks.
"What is there?" he would cry, pointing to the north. "Wood and marshand unpenetrated jungle. Who knows what it may shelter? And there tothe south? A wilderness of swampy forest, where no white man has everbeen. The unknown is up against us on every side. Outside the narrowlines of the rivers what does anyone know? Who will say what ispossible in such a country? Why should old man Challenger not beright?" At which direct defiance the stubborn sneer would reappearupon Professor Summerlee's face, and he would sit, shaking his sardonichead in unsympathetic silence, behind the cloud of his briar-root pipe.
So much, for the moment, for my two white companions, whose charactersand limitations will be further exposed, as surely as my own, as thisnarrative proceeds. But already we have enrolled certain retainers whomay play no small part in what is to come. The first is a giganticnegro named Zambo, who is a black Hercules, as willing as any horse,and about as intelligent. Him we enlisted at Para, on therecommendation of the steamship company, on whose vessels he hadlearned to speak a halting English.
It was at Para also that we engaged Gomez and Manuel, two half-breedsfrom up the river, just come down with a cargo of redwood. They wereswarthy fellows, bearded and fierce, as active and wiry as panthers.Both of them had spent their lives in those upper waters of the Amazonwhich we were about to explore, and it was this recommendation whichhad caused Lord John to engage them. One of them, Gomez, had thefurther advantage that he could speak excellent English. These menwere willing to act as our personal servants, to cook, to row, or tomake themselves useful in any way at a payment of fif
teen dollars amonth. Besides these, we had engaged three Mojo Indians from Bolivia,who are the most skilful at fishing and boat work of all the rivertribes. The chief of these we called Mojo, after his tribe, and theothers are known as Jose and Fernando. Three white men, then, twohalf-breeds, one negro, and three Indians made up the personnel of thelittle expedition which lay waiting for its instructions at Manaosbefore starting upon its singular quest.
At last, after a weary week, the day had come and the hour. I ask youto picture the shaded sitting-room of the Fazenda St. Ignatio, twomiles inland from the town of Manaos. Outside lay the yellow, brassyglare of the sunshine, with the shadows of the palm trees as black anddefinite as the trees themselves. The air was calm, full of theeternal hum of insects, a tropical chorus of many octaves, from thedeep drone of the bee to the high, keen pipe of the mosquito. Beyondthe veranda was a small cleared garden, bounded with cactus hedges andadorned with clumps of flowering shrubs, round which the great bluebutterflies and the tiny humming-birds fluttered and darted increscents of sparkling light. Within we were seated round the canetable, on which lay a sealed envelope. Inscribed upon it, in thejagged handwriting of Professor Challenger, were the words:--
"Instructions to Lord John Roxton and party. To be opened at Manaosupon July 15th, at 12 o'clock precisely."
Lord John had placed his watch upon the table beside him.
"We have seven more minutes," said he. "The old dear is very precise."