The Man Who Did the Right Thing: A Romance
but meanwhile the file of porters halted, and John, impatient to find
out the cause of the halt, urged on his donkey to flounder through the
vegetation along the track and reach the head of the caravan. Lucy's
donkey was so devoted to her sister ass that she could never bear to be
separated from her; so, unchecked by Lucy's limp clutch on the reins,
she hurried forward. But when she saw the swaying cobra she bolted off
to the left into the banana tangle, and the abrupt action flung her
rider off amongst skulls and bones and rotting vegetation.
The headman, with a tent-pole, hurled adroitly at the aggressive snake,
broke its back, the exasperated porters rushed forward and whacked it to
pulp and then threw the remains far from the path, took up their loads
and marched forward, hastening to leave so ill-omened a place. The cook
and the personal attendant hurried to raise the unconscious, slightly
stunned Lucy from her horrible surroundings and caught the donkey. The
caravan, however, had to be halted afresh. Lucy was far too ill to
ride. Yet a further stay could hardly be made in these surroundings.
After a conference with the headman it was decided to rig up a "machila"
or travelling hammock out of blankets, and a long pole, and to march on
a mile or so to a better site for a camping place, and there await the
lady's recovery....
Poor John! It required, indeed, patience and resignation to the fitful
ways of Providence to keep up heart against this succession of
disasters. The loads were readjusted so as to release four men to carry
the invalid; and the caravan moved on silently, in low spirits and
without the accustomed song, till they reached a spot which satisfied
their requirements of defensibility against lions, access to good water;
shade; and no likelihood of biting ants or snakes. Such a place was
found in an hour or two, and the overburdened porters gladly heard the
decision to remain till the Bibi was well enough to travel.
Lucy when put to bed was alternately hysterical and delirious. She was
suffering more from nervous shocks than from bodily injuries, though
several of the ant-bites were inclined to fester, and her left cheek,
arm, and side were badly bruised from the fall amongst the bones. John,
as he sat and watched her on the camp bed, thought what cursed luck had
followed him since his marriage. He had twice made this journey between
Hangodi and the coast, and although neither traversing of the
hundred-and-fifty miles had been precisely an agreeable picnic, there
had not occurred any really tragical incidents that he remembered.
Going first to Hangodi, nine months ago, the Masai raids had not taken
place; and on his coastward journey a month previously his guide must
have taken him along a different path. Thus they had avoided these
ruined villages with their rotting remains of massacres. He had often
heard lions roar and seen snakes gliding from the path, and had crossed
with a hop and a jump swarms of the dreaded "siafu." It was common
knowledge that some Arab daus were infested with bugs. But none of
these terrors had been obvious on his previous journeys, nor had there
been such a scarcity of drinking water. It really seemed as though
Divine Providence for some mysterious ends was to crowd all the dangers
and disagreeables of an African _safari_ into Lucy's wedding tour.
A talk with the headman helped to clear things up and settle plans.
They were, at this new camp--by contrast with the others a very pleasant
and salubrious place--about sixty miles from Hangodi and about fifty
from the Evangelical Missionary Society's station or Mpwapwa. Here
there lived a famous medical missionary. If a message were sent to him
by fast runners he might reach them in four or five days with advice and
medicines.
Two of the swiftest porters of the _safari_ were chosen to run through
the tolerably safe Usagara country with a letter, with calico bound
round them for food purchase and a bag of rice tied to each man's
girdle. John's revolver was lent to the more experienced of the two as
some protection against wild beasts or lawless men. They were promised
a present if they did the journey in two days.
* * * * *
There was nothing for it then but to keep Lucy well-nourished with broth
made from tinned foods and beef-extract. The porter who had let drop
the case of cider and had conceived an attachment for his mistress out
of pity and remorse, set a snare one day and caught a guinea-fowl. This
made an excellent nourishing soup. Another porter found a clutch of
guinea-fowl's eggs. There was one remaining milch goat which yielded
about a pint of milk daily.
With such resources as these John strove to prepare an invalid diet
which could be administered by spoonfuls to a patient with no appetite
and poor vitality. He had a small medicine-case of drugs, but knew not
what to prescribe for nervous exhaustion. He scarcely left the vicinity
of the tent during the day-time, and slept fully-dressed at night in a
deck-chair close to Lucy's camp bedstead.
At the end of the fifth day the medical missionary arrived on a riding
donkey with John's messengers, and six porters of his own carrying a
comfortable travelling hammock. He diagnosed the case and took a
cheerful view of it, but advised their setting out next day with him and
attempting by forced marches to reach his station--fifty miles away--in
two days. At Mpwapwa Lucy would be nursed back to health by his wife,
and when she was fit for more African travel she should be sent on to
Hangodi.
* * * * *
Six weeks afterwards she reached her husband's station in Ulunga,
completely restored to health. The cool dry season had set in; the
country she traversed was elevated, much wooded, picturesque
hill-and-dale threaded with numerous small streams, and her travelling
escort, the medical missionary, was an interesting man with a
well-stored mind who could explain much that she wanted to know.
On her arrival at Hangodi she found Ann Jamblin installed as a potent
force in several departments of the station economy, the real mistress
of the community. She had come up from the coast in the _safari_ of
Mrs. Ewart Stott. The marches had been well regulated the camping
places well chosen, the wild beasts had not annoyed them, and they had
avoided the waterless tract. Ann was prompt to infer that Lucy had made
far too much fuss over the petty discomforts of African travel, and Lucy
began to take refuge in a proud silence--which one's persecutors call
"sulks"--under Ann's gibes and obliquely slighting remarks.
*CHAPTER VIII*
*LETTERS TO AND FRO*
_From Lady Silchester to Captain Brentham._
Englefield House,
_July_ 12, 1887.
DEAR ROGER,--
The great event took place three weeks ago and I am just allowed to
leave my bed and lie on a couch for a few hours every day--in my
boudoir. Here I can wile away the time by writing letters.
It is a boy, so Francis ought to be in the seventh heaven of happiness
as he now has a direct heir for the succession. Ought to be, but
somehow isn't. Since I began to get better and take notice he does not
seem as exuberant as I expected. He isn't _well_. I have a sort of
idea he had a fainting fit in the House of Lords just when my crisis was
coming on and that they kept it back from me. But I saw an allusion to
it in an old _Times_ which had somehow found its way into my
sitting-room.
The infant is to be named James Francis Addington for ancestral reasons.
I do not feel energetic enough to contest. I should have preferred
_one_ Christian name _only_--a multitude of names is so demode and must
be so confusing to the recording angels who don't recognize surnames. I
wanted something a little baffling and out of the common such as
Clitheroe or Passavant. Clitheroe is not the name of any relation, but
I liked its sound--like the wind in the reeds, don't you think?--and it
would have been a new departure.
Little Clithy looks rather wizen as he lies asleep in his bassinette,
but at his age most infants seem incredibly old and cynical, as though
they were just finishing some life cycle and were peevish at beginning
another.
Of course, Clitheroe's coming has _quite_ ruled me out of the Jubilee
festivities. Suzanne Feenix has been doing all the running, and quietly
pushing her husband whilst I have been unable to secure any advancement
for mine, who now seems quite lacking in ambition. Suzanne, by the bye,
_l'on dit tres toquee_ of another good-looking African explorer, a rival
of yours from West Africa. A pity you did not make her acquaintance--as
I advised you to do--before you left. She has any amount of influence
with Lord W.
How is the missionaryess? I am glad she was safely married to her
missionary and withdrew herself into the interior. I feared otherwise
there was going to be _another_ entanglement: for I don't believe _in
the least_ you were a Galahad and faithful only to my memory in the days
when we played at being engaged. I don't see why I should be specially
interested in this young woman because she came from Aldermaston and her
father is one of our tenants.... However, when I can once more ride I'll
go over and look her people up and report on them. But I only hope you
won't turn her head by taking all this interest in her affairs. So like
you! And to think you once reproached me for inconstancy!
All the same, dear Roger, I do miss you--_dreadfully_. Francis _will_
keep up the grand manner and won't tell me any cabinet secrets. My
brothers and sisters don't interest me, mother is too anxious about
father's affairs to leave him for long, and when she is here I am
nervous about discussing them for fear they may want to borrow money
from Francis.
I have sent Maud an invitation because she reminds me faintly of you....
SIBYL.
_From Mrs. Josling to Mrs. John Baines._
Church Farm
Aldermaston
July 30 (1887)
My darling girl
Father and me were so releaved at getting your letter ten days ago
saying you had reached Unguja safe and sound and had just been married
to John Baines by the Consul and at the Cathedral. It sounded quite
grand being married twice, and I only hope youll be happy.
I went over to see Mrs. Baines at Tilehurst taking your letter with me
but was receaved [underscored: none too graciously]. It seems John had
not written to his parents to say he was married [strikeout: or even
that he] but I suppose he hadent time before being so busy over his
preperations for starting up country.
Well my darling we both wishes you every happiness. Your letter dident
tell us much but I suppose you were too busy having to start away on a
ship the next morning. We both send our humble thanks to Captain
Brentham for looking after you on the voyage. Lady Silchester has had
her baby--in the middle of last June. Father and me drove over last
week to pay our respecs and make inquiries. His lordship himself came
out to see and was nice as he always is. He's very like his poor mother
and she was always the lady and spoke as nice to her servants as to her
titled friends. Well Lord Silchester rang for the nurse and baby so as
we might see it. It looked to me a poor little antique thing but of
course I dident say so. It's been christened James after his Lordship's
father but they say as her Ladyship wanted some other name more romantic
like. She came in from the garden as we were leaving and gave herself
such airs I thought but Father says she's a rare piece for good looks