Читать книгу In the Beginning - Alan Sullivan - Страница 6
ОглавлениеCHAPTER IV
Preparations
Many Corners, Crowborough, Surrey.
September 23, 19—.
Dear Moberley,
I'm thinking of going on a prospecting trip for a
few months, somewhere between B.A. and Punta Arenas.
That sounds like me, doesn't it? I don't want anything
to get into the papers. My daughter and I and my
servant should be in B.A. two months from to-day,
where the others will meet us. Now I want to charter
a small coasting steamer, in which to jog southward,
stopping where I wish and for such time as may be necessary.
Furthermore, my mind would be a good deal relieved
if I could get a skipper who wouldn't talk. There
being none, which I fear, the best alternative would be
some fellow who was such a notorious liar that no one
would believe him. You see the point? What can you
do? Send me a line.
Yours ever,
Caxton.
J. W. Moberley, Esq.,
British and South American
Trading and Steamship Co., Ltd.,
Lime Street, Liverpool.
P.S.—I wish you'd shorten the title of your company.
FROM J. W. MOBERLEY TO JOHN CAXTON
September 29, 19—.
My Dear Caxton,
I've been in cable communication with B.A. I have
been able to secure you a coaster called "La Plata,"
which has been on that route for some years, and is
skippered by a sort of desperado called Lopez Almano.
He is said to be an unmitigated liar, but, nevertheless,
has the reputation of a first-rate seaman. I fancy he is,
as must be anyone who can trade along that coast for
five years without piling up on the shore. There are two
fair cabins besides his, and his will make another, as it
doesn't matter where he sleeps. So that's rather better
than I expected to find at such short notice. As to terms,
I got him at the rate of £300 a month for a minimum of
four months. I haven't the faintest idea how he'll feed
you, but suggest that you prepare for the worst.
Sincerely yours,
J. W. Moberley.
TELEGRAM—CAXTON TO MOBERLEY
Sept. 30, 19—.
Many thanks, quite satisfactory, please close.—Caxton.
Natural History Museum,
South Kensington, London, S.W.
September 26, 19—.
Dear Caxton,
With reference to your questions about Pliocene
fauna of America, there is no doubt that a good many
of the larger mammals experienced very little change
between the upper Miocene and lower Pliocene. The
rhinoceros, for instance, was practically the same.
As to the ground sloth (genus Megatherium, sub-order
Gravigrada), they were very common in both the
South American Pliocene and Pleistocene. Some were
quite as large as the African elephant. Scott speaks of
the tremendous shoulder-blade, the short nasals, and
extraordinarily heavy limbs, and says that the brute must
have walked on the outer side of its foot on account of
its long, sharp claws, as the existing ant-bear uses its
forefoot to-day. Prodigious strength, evidently, and able
to root up whole trees.
Of course, there's his smaller brother, who didn't,
apparently, get into North America at all, and the allied
Grypotherium. You'll remember one being found in a
cavern near Last Hope Inlet, Patagonia, buried in dry
dust. The long, coarse hair was quite preserved. He
fed like the bigger chap by browsing, but being smaller,
was probably content with low shrubbery.
Re Sabre Tooth. You must distinguish between the
false and true, the former a little chap found in Eastern
Oregon (upper Oligocene), which Scott calls a 'cursorila
cat,' and the real old terror (Smilodon). He was a
terrible beast of prey, and had all of what is now South
America as a playground. Not, I think, as active as the
modern tiger, but with those slashing, tearing tusks that
are unlike anything else in the carnivora. He had five
digits on the hind foot against the present cat's four.
I can't imagine a more stirring spectacle than a Smilodon
on top of an elephant (Elephas columbi) stuck in a tar
pool, standing off a pack of giant wolves (Canis diris).
I'm afraid that in the foregoing I must have said a
good deal that you already know, but one is apt to
ramble on, because the picture of what must have existed
when the world was younger is always in one's brain.
I know Withers used to have visions of this kind, and
it was always his dearest hope to contribute something
very sharp and definite. Well, he has moved on, as the
rest of us will, and left nothing behind him but some
sound, useful work which can only be appreciated by the
few. It was a tragic ending to a valuable life.
