The fossicker : a romance of Mashonaland

Front matter

KU1H

CANDLER

LOVETT

Contents

OH A P.

I. The Bells of Shandon

II. The Treasure

Chapter I. The Bells Of Shandon

Two men were pacing the promenade deck of the U.S. Mexican — outward bound for Capetown — one smoking, the other talking lazily to pass the time.

" An ocean passenger steamer," he was saying, " is a world in itself, more or less bilious according to the weather, but still a pocket edition of what is known as the world — a collection of people divided into classes by an unwritten code. An ocean steamer, with its skipper, crew, and passengers, brings the world into a foous, and it's rather a commonplace affair when submitted to observation. A drop of dirty water taken from a roadside pond and placed under a microscope, reveals an animated scene of life, in which each minute ruffian is trying to devour the other. That sort of thing has been going on ever since the earth's crust was watertight — and, upon my word, this world is like a drop of dirty water ! "

" That is one drop too much — if you must talk, please try to talk sense."

" We have been four days out, and already we have all the distinctions to be met with between Kensington and Whitechapel. The saloon is the West End, the fo'castle is beyond Aldgate Pump, the chosen few at the captain's table have been presented at Court, those who sun themselves in the smiles of the doctor are trying to get into society ; two young women are in deadly rivalry for the position of fashionable beauty, and the married ladies reserve their fascinations for every one but their husbands, who play nap and speculate on the ship's run. We've a stockbroker who discusses shares, a company promoter who exchanges a mile of quartz in the Transvaal with a few ounces of gold in it for a hundred thousand of specie in London ready coined for use, and "

"And a cynic who would be a philosopher, and cannot for lack of something — brains, I suppose."

" Exactly ; and to complete the summary, there are two fools bound on a wild-goose chase, myself the greater, we will say, and you, Drury, the less ; and already you have been marked down as a prey by one of those carnivorous animals we found in the water drop."

" Bless my soul ! " said Drury, with an affectation of alarm, "you don't mean to say there is something dangerous aboard. Will he bite ? "

"Seriously, Dick — weren't you too confidential with that man Foster ? "

" Well, I don't know ; I certainly did tell him that we were bound for Ophir, and as he was so deeply interested in the ancient history of Mashonaland, I gave him the latitude of that fabulous mine. The longitude I had clean forgotten."

" You are indeed a flat ! "

THE BELLS OF SHANDON. 3

" Nonsense ! What's he to Ophir, or Ophir to him, without the plan ? "

" Dick, you certainly should be in leading-strings."

"Ah, well, Smedley, you know I could not have undertaken this business unless you came, and as you are here, it is well your responsibilities should begin."

Smedley laughed at the easy manner in which Drury had with a sweep of his hand transferred a burden to the shoulders of one not directly concerned in them, but there was nothing bitter in his mirth. Yet, as the laugh died, his face grew grave — a look habitual with him, one would say.

They paced to and fro for some time in silence — Drury with his head well up, and his sunny blue eyes glancing, always with a smile in them, to where a lady in white lounged gracefully in a cane chair. He was a fair, handsome young fellow, frank and open, with a steely look, however, in his eyes, that told of a temper not all sunshine. He walked with an easy roll and swing, not ungraceful, which he had caught from the officers of a cavalry regiment stationed in Exeter. His parents had died when he was young, he had spent his youth as best pleased him, in all manner of healthy sport, having early got out of the control of his guardian, a conscientious but very nervous old gentleman, and his early manhood he had devoted to travel. He had met Frank Smedley in Canada, and there the two had at once recognized each other as fitted by circumstance for friendship.

Smedley, too, was a lonely man, but he felt his loneliness the more, for his father had not long been dead, and he had come to learn how much he had missed by

b 2

4 THE FOSSICKEk.

foregoing, when he had the opportunity, the companionship of his father. The memory of his father's death stayed with him always, for it was all too late when he appreciated how that silent and reserved man had missed and mourned for some semblance of friendship, some show of interest on the part of his son. He remembered with regret the many solitary walks the old man would take over the wide moor, and he recalled the hesitation at the door, the wistful glance — signs he now knew of a wished-for companionship. And all the time he had thought the dark, sorrow-laden man proud and absorbed.

He too had been accounted proud and reserved. At College, no man had called him friend ; and although he was at heart eager for friendship, he had not sufficient geniality to overcome the barriers set up by his grave looks and formal manners. So he had gone through his term, doing fairly well without much effort, and had left, without much regret, to wander aimlessly about the earth, like many other Englishmen, seeing much, daring much, yet doing nothing of any consequence to themselves or any one else.

Like Drury, too, he was Devonshire by birth, but he was dark, all trace of colour having been burnt out of his cheeks by tropical suns. A broad line across his forehead, and a few white hairs in his black moustache, with the

fixed set of his mouth, gave him a look of sternness a

look which his clear brown eyes partly relieved.

These two had been living together at The Pines, on the hills above Exeter, where Drury held loose hold of a vanishing estate, and Smedley had become acquainted with the lady to whom his friend was engaged to be

THE BELLS OF SHANDON. 5

married — Miss Elton, daughter of the old vicar of a neighbouring parish — and he had also often talked with Drury over the latter' s narrowing finances. When a chance, slight and shadowy, but very alluring, of making a fortune presented itself, the two friends had seized upon it.

" By Jove ! she sleeps, my darling sleeps ! " said Drury, suddenly.

Smedley looked up vaguely, suspecting his friend was quoting a snatch of song ; but there was something more than the refrain of a song in Drury's mind. He had started forward towards the lady in white, who, to all appearance, was sound asleep. One rounded arm, plainly revealed by the lace- work sleeves, dropped nervelessly to the deck ; the other was thrown back and bent, with the hand at the back of the head ; and the head was slightly inclined towards the young men. The fall red lips were parted, showing a gleaming line of white, and the long dark eyelashes fell upon the cheek, making an arc of black on the fair surface. The figure was thrown out by the position of the arms — a vision altogether seductive, voluptuous, and dangerous.

Smedley laid a restraining hand upon his companion's arm. " Now, Dick," he said, laughingly, " don't do anything foolish."

" Foolish, man ! do you call winning a pair of gloves from such a pair of lips foolishness ? "

" Yes, I do," said Smedley, with earnestness. " Only four days ago you said good-bye to Miss Elton at Plymouth, and the memory of that parting with the sweetest girl on earth should keep you from dangerous familiarities with an adventuress."

Drury flushed, and looked his friend hard in the eyes. " Look here, Frank," he broke out, " I honour you as a friend, but understand, my love affairs are my own." He strode quickly off, with the hot colour still in his cheeks.

"His ' love affairs ' ! — he talks like a roue, or a Mormon bishop, doesn't he now, Mr. Smeddle ?"

These words, drawled out in a soft and melodious voice, came from the sleeping beauty.

" I beg your pardon, Miss de Beer," stammered Smedley, as he recognized that she had heard everything.

" The adventuress ! " she drawled, with a smile, as though 6he enjoyed his discomfiture.

" I thought you were asleep," he said, lamely.

" No matter. Besides, I could have warned you — but I preferred to listen, and you know listeners seldom hear of anything to their credit. Now, tell me," she added, after arranging herself comfortably in her chair, " why am I an adventuress ? "

" Really, madam," he began, then stopped. She was looking out to sea through half-closed eyes, and her face had all the seeming of one expecting a pleasant communication. Tet he knew that at heart she was on fire at the epithet that had slipped from his lips, and he was in want of words to frame a suitable apology.

" Come, sir, be frank. A man who can be outspoken behind a woman's back should be plain-spoken in her presence, or — I will set the example of being frank — he is no gentleman. If you were acquainted with feminine coquetry, you might retort that a lady who feigns sleep in order to attract admiration, but receives detraction instead, is well paid out."

THE BELLS OF SHANDON. 7

"Miss de Beer, I hold my friend's happiness very dear; and in my anxiety for him and others I spoke, perhaps, hastily. I am very sorry — indeed I am," he added, with a faint smile, as she raised her eyebrows.

"Ah! you men are selfish to the core. You are anxious about a strong young fellow like that, and you throw a stone at a weak woman without caring whether you bruise her or not. It is not fair, Mr. Meddle."

" Smedley, Miss de Beer. Yet, pardon me, you appear to be quite unruffled, and I may hope you will forgive my rudeness."

She looked up into his face, which expressed his regret more than his words, and he noticed for the first time how expressive of alert intelligence were her eyes. She looked down and sighed. " You will be a good friend. Drury is lucky. Ah, yes ! I forgive you. A friend is better than a lover, for love is a flower that blooms in the night, and withers in the morning, while friendship strikes deep and grows strongly. Tell me," she said, waking from a reverie into which she had fallen, while Smedley stood by tugging at his moustache and wondering whether this fair woman was making sport of him or not, " why do you concern yourself about Mr. Drury 's 'love affairs,' as he sweepingly called them just now ? "

" That is a matter I cannot discuss," he returned, gravely.

" Very well then, we will not discuss it now ; but," she continued, with a soft smile and a flash in her eyes, " we certainly shall return to it another time. You mentioned the name of a lady, I think."

"I did."

" It appeared familiar to me. though I did not quite catch it. "Will you kindly repeat ? "

" There is no necessity to repeat her name, Miss de Beer; and as the subject must be unpleasant to you, let us drop Drury."

" Xo, pray don't — it might hurt him. Yet you know that name runs in my head. Elton, I think it was. I knew some one of that name once, a diamond digger. Poor fellow ! — ah, poor fellow ! he would have been glad for a friend like you, Mr. Smedlev ; but, forgive me, you cannot be interested in him." She looked up at him quietly, his face was alive with eager desire.

" Yes," he said, with emotion, " Elton was the name. When did j-ou last hear of this diamond digger ? Cau you recall his Christian name ? "

" Really, Mr. Sraedley," she said, " it is so long since, I cannot remember. Moreover, you cannot reasonably expect me to be confidential while you remain close as a clasped knife. There is the dressing-bell, and an adventuress, beyond other women, must dress well."

She rose, made him a sweeping curtsey, and went off humming these catching lines —

" The bells of Shandon, They sound so grand on The pleasant waters of the Eiver Lee.'-

"The very words he liked so well," muttered Smedlev, looking after her with a troubled brow. " Of course she knows him, poor Owen."

CIIAPTEE II.

THE TREASURE.

The steamer kept on its course with a directness as though the track had been marked out, and following almost in the vanished wake of its former voyages, its cutwater projecting like the jaw of a bulldog, and about its iron bulk a general air of decision.

If an ocean steamer is of the feminine gender, it is a " she " of the severe order, with no more resemblance to a full-rigged sbip in all her beauty of flowing lines, taperiug masts, and billowy canvas than a bespectacled and manly spinster bears to the gracious beauty of a young girl. The red funnel discharged volumes of smoke, which trailed away — a long smudgy track between sea and sky — while over the water stretched a sinuous path of gleaming foam from the stern right away into the haze of the horizon. The thirsting ventilators, with mouths always agape to the breeze, diverted some of its freshness to the engineers, who panted and steamed in a moving purgatory, where they ministered to the great heart of the steamer, wbose pulsations could be felt from bow to stern. That mass of steel, with its delicate mechanism and mighty arms of brightened metal fretting under the power of steam, required perpetual control, lest it should fly to pieces in one mad eil'ort, or become utterly impotent.

There lies the difference between divine creation and the invention of human intelligence. That which is created moves on of its own inherent force, while that which is invented requires continual care.

The steamer soon entered into the sultry seas. The pitch between the white boards became soft, and gave out an odour of tar, which freely mingled with the warm air from the engine-room and the smell of continual cooking.

The passengers were limp, and sweltered in their own juice. Their arms hung loosely from the shoulders, and their legs, when they did lazily walk, dragged listlessly. Some sat for coolness on the grating about the steeringwheel, others sprawled over Madeira chairs, and a few, whose energy had not altogether been soddened, lounged against the gritty bulwarks and watched a schooner which lay becalmed on the oily waters. Her crew rose up one by one from the nooks and shady places where they had been cooling off, and leant over the ship's side. So the two companies looked across at one another, glad to have something of human interest to ponder upon, yet not caring enough to stir a hand or wave a cap in token of good fellowship. No doubt the schooner's people made a few slow remarks about the uselessness of hurry and the degrading effects of steam before crawling back to the shade, and the steamer's passengers pitied the others for thoir hopeless stagnation.

When the ship had faded away into an indistinct blur on the horizon, a fresh point of interest was found far ahead in the form of a whale. His jet had caught the eye of a watchful quartermaster, and soon all were anxiously watching for the tiny gleam of white, the onlv indication yet that there was a whale within that vast circle of dreary water.

" There's only one of 'em," said the quartermaster, a fine old Naval Reserve man, with bronzed face, out of which peered the simplest, keenest eyes, " and he's on a voyage."

Gradually the steamer overhauled the great fish, and the columns of spray regularly ejected grew taller. At last his great head appeared black on the indigo water, then the shining back with colonies of barnacles thereon, their nets spread to sweep the waters for food, and each one of them carelessly indifferent to the duration of the voyage, or to the whereabouts of their destination. Their struggle for life had ended when they secured a firm foothold on the broad sides of the whale, and now they were in office they did not care a fig what happened. The whale himself forged steadily on, the foam rolling from his square head, two ridges of water breaking away from his shoulders and spreading, fan-like, in his wake, while the beat of his great flukes set the water boiling and hissing astern. Unheeding the vessel, he kept on, and as he fell astern the passengers turned their faces with a feeling of wonderment as to the purpose of his going.

"He looks as though he had an appointment somewhere," said Miss de Beer.

" Maybe, miss, he has a wife waiting for him off Tristan da Cuna."

" Yes, but that is thousands of miles away. How will he find his way ? It is so strange — he has no compass, cannot take the sun at noon, nor study a chart."

" I'm not so sartin of that, lady. Maybe he carries a compass and a chart too in that big head of his. I dunno how he can steer a straight course, for there are no signs about to guide him, an' the currents run anyhow. Put a man down in a flat, with the horizon round like the brim

12 THE FOSSTCKER.

of a hat, 'thout a stump or a stone, or aught else to steer by, and sooner or later he'll turn on his course. Now, how can a whale — which has not men's knowledge — keep a-going straight forward for a thousand or six thousand knots if he hasn't somewhat to steer by ? What I do think, miss and gentlemen, is that human folks ain't got all the knowledge that was given out, not by a long way."

" Was a sailor there on that occasion, quartermaster ? " asked Drury, with something that may have been a wink.

" If there had been, Mr. Drury, sir, he would have kept quiet and not exposed his ignorance. Can you tell me how a salmon finds his way back to the very identical pool in the river where he was spawned after he has been knocking about in the salt water for months ? "

" Of course I can, quartermaster. He finds his way up by hook or by crook, and by rod and line."

The old sailor looked at Drury questioningly — " I s'pose that's a joke, but blow me if I can see the point ! "

" I don't wonder — the point being in the fish's mouth."

The quartermaster went off, chuckling and shaking his head ; then he paused, turned round, and remarked aloud for the benefit of the laughing company, " Whales, I reckon, are too mighty sensible to joke."

The luncheon bell — pleasantest sound aboard — summoned the passengers into the saloon, where they fired themselves with the hottest curry, for an excuse to quench the flames throughout the afternoon with lemon squash imbibed leisurely through straws.

In the afternoon, Smedley found out a deserted part of the ship, and spreading out a map over his knees, busied himself marking off points with a pencil, varying his work by occasional references to an old manuscript.

By and by his eye travelled from the map to the deck, and he became aware from the shadow on the boards that some one was behind him. On looking round, he found a passenger named Foster, for whom he had an instinctive repugnance, standing on the skylight, in such a position that, had he chosen, he could easily have overlooked the map and manuscript. His eyes were listlessly fixed on the sea, and, noticing Smedley move, he appeared surprised at his vicinity.

" Ah ! Mr. Smedley, I did not see you. Studying geography ? "

" Yes," replied the other, curtly.

" I remember now — your friend Drury told me you were going in search of Mauchberg, or Ophir, or some such place where gold is to be found in bucketsful."

" Ah ! he was probably romancing."

"Very likely," said Foster, with a dry smile; "nevertheless, there are treasures of some sort to be found there, left probably by the old Phoenicians. I must confess I like luxury too much to become a treasure-hunter." Suiting the action to the word, he took a seat next to Smedley, and stretched out his legs.

" I did meet a man in Kimbeiiey who had been up in the Mashona country. It was understood that he had discovered a store of gold near one of those old ruins to be found up there, but he kept his secret. At my suggestion, he drew up a plan of the place, with description of the route to be followed, but he lost the paper. He disappeared — died from drink, I think — and of course his secret died with him." He spoke carelessly, but his small black eyes were eagerly fixed on the manuscript which Smedley rolled and unrolled impatiently.

" Did you credit his story ? " asked Smedley, taking a mental note of his eager look.

" Oh dear no ! I regarded the whole story as a delusion. May I glance a moment at your map — perhaps I can locate this romance approximately ? Thanks ; let me see." He ran his eye rapidly over the pencilled course marked out, and placed his finger on a red star, from which he traced the latitude and longitude — 20 degs., 32 degs.

" It was about here," he said, indicating a spot about ten degrees to the west of the red star. " 'Gad ! all the wealth of Solomon would not tempt me into that savage country."

" How do you know the paper you spoke of was lost ? "

" I do not know, as the lawyers say, of my own knowledge. For all I know to the contrary, the paper you hold in your hand may be the same. But after he got into trouble his effects were searched and no paper was found. I happen to know from a detective who searched him that the paper was not on his person."

" He got into trouble ? " said Smedley, vaguely.

" Yes, like many better men, he fell a victim to women and illicit diamond buying. His name was Webster," he added.

" Ah ! did you ever meet a man named Elton at Kimberley ? "

" Elton ? the name seems familiar. About what year would he have been at the mine ? "

" It is four years since his friends last heard of him — and then only through rumours which connected his name with an illicit diamond buyer, an utter scoundrel, T believe."

Foster covered his mouth to hide a smile of triumph. Then he continued in a smooth voice — "No, I cannot recall the circumstance ; and — pardon me for saying so — it is not likely that I should have had any knowledge of a man connected with the I.D.B. gang. Those people are the pariahs of the mine. I presume this man Elton was no friend of yours ? "

" I regret to say he was not," said Smedley, eyeing the other sternly ; " but I hope to gain his friendship."

Foster bowed with mock politeness, and went off, humming, with a look of great satisfaction on his cunning features.

Smedley stroked his moustache savagely. He resented the tone adopted by Foster, as well as the latter's manner of calmly appropriating his map. " That was a pretty shrewd guess of his about the nature of this manuscript, and I wonder whether he has made up that story about "Webster from what he must have gathered from Drury. Confound Dick ! there he is flirting with Miss de Beer worse than ever."

He watched the two grimly, noting the wiles of the coquette — how she used an effective armament of languishing glances and seductive smiles upon him, winning his admiration, and how she flattered him by indications of a clinging dependence upon his judgment.

" It's positively sickening ! " he growled ; " he has a heart like a sponge. If she does squeeze it, it may not affect him much ; but I suppose I must interfere." He paced up and down the deck altogether oblivious to the soft glances of one of the rival beauties, who, failing the first officer — absent on duty — required another devoted swain.

" It must be stopped," he said for the twentieth time ; and then, with the determined resolution of a man going to have a tooth out, he strode up to the gay couple.

" Here comes the ghost of Hamlet's father ! " cried Drury, with mock heroics ; " mark his lowering brow."

" Well," she said, turning her head and regarding Smedley critically, " he has to me more the aspect of a schoolmaster bent on chastising an unruly child."

"Can you spare Mr. Drury a few minutes, Miss -de Beer ? " he said, stiffly.

" I told you. Promise not to punish the dear boy too severely — besides, his cries might disturb the ship."

" I won't treat him with more severity than he deserves; but you know he is — ah ! — neglecting his diary."

Miss de Beer laughed merrily at this. " Well," she said, " a diary is certainly a serious matter ; and if you remain to amuse me I will endeavour to get on without his presence."

" Thank you," said Drury ; " but you are not going to get rid of me on a pretext of that sort. Besides, you and Smedley don't agree, and it would not be safe to leave you together."

" Never mind, my dear boy ; go and write in your diary about me."

Thus pleasantly dismissed, Drury went off, not to jot down how many chops he had eaten for breakfast, but to confide to the doctor that Smedley had gone queer in the head.

" I think, Mr. Smedley," said Miss de Beer, with a malicious smile, " you have come to give me the information you withheld a few days since?"

" Yes ; I think the time has arrived."

" Well, you know that is an indirect compliment to me, for it clearly shows my powers of attraction are not weak — a consolation to an adventuress, naturally." She looked up at him with a face as frank as a child's, and an innocent look in her large eyes.

Smedley smiled. " I must admit you are dangerous ; and I do not know, I am sure, whether I should grudge Drury the fatal pleasure of singeing his wings. Not for his sake, but for the happiness of others, do I interfere."

She sighed and looked away, and there was something wistful in the glance. Smedley hesitated a while, for though he did his duty relentlessly, he dreaded giving pain.

" I hope you will not think me impertinent," he said.

" I am hardened to impertinences, Mr. Smedley," she said, with a hard laugh. " I am one of those unfortunate women whom men treat as kindred spirits — and a ' jolly good fellow ' in a gown becomes, all too soon, the victim and sport of familiarity. Pray, go on."

He began his story gravely, and went through it with some show of emotion, which communicated itself to his listener.

He told how he and Drury had spent many days on Dartmoor, where they had seen much of the Eev. John Elton and his daughter Olive — how they had first learnt to respect the old man and to sympathize with him in a sorrow

18 THE FOSSICKS R.

that was visibly shortening his days. His son Owen had left for the Cape five years ago. Every week after his arrival at Capetown the mail steamer had brought over a bright letter, which Miss Olive had called for at the distant post-office, and as regularly read to her father in the room overlooking the long stretch of road, connected indelibly in his mind with the last appearance of his son.

At the end of the first year's absence the letters ceased, and not a word had they since heard of the boy. But still, on every Tuesday in the week, through every week in tbe four years, Olive had driven to the post-office, and as the day came round the white-haired old man had stood at the window watching his daughter, and was there waiting her return, to receive always the same mute caress that told of disappointment. A brave girl she was, with a smile and a hopeful word for that pathetic figure of waiting age, while never to herself acknowledging the despair which grew in her own heart. To others who had eyes to note, her sorrow was revealed in the wistful look in her large grey eyes, and in the pale beauty of her grave face.