Читать книгу The Man Who Was Nobody - Edgar Wallace - Страница 8

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THERE was a discussion at the waterhole on the edge of the Kalahari Desert. It was between Wilhelm the Fingo and Jan the half-breed bushman, and it concerned one Solomon Stedman who lay with blue lips, gasping out his life, within sight of the water that would have saved it. The discussion was conducted in the taal, which is Dutch as it is spoken by half-breed kitchen-maids and farm-workers.

"I think the baas will die at sundown," said Wilhelm, "and then we can take his curious instruments to the resident magistrate at Vrykloof, keeping his money for ourselves. The little mine he has found we can own and we shall be rich. Then I shall go back to T'simo and buy cattle and wives."

"You are a fool," retorted the dispassionate Jan, "for native people are not allowed to own mines in this land. We will let him die and take his money."

All this old Solomon heard and his glazing eyes turned malignantly upon his unfaithful servants.

"I am no fool," said the Fingo man, "for I am a Christian and can write my name. And I know a poor white man in Mafekin' who will make the claim for me. He lives with a Matabele woman whom I have known."

Into this debate intruded Pretoria Smith. He knew the location of the waterhole, having prospected this country before. He had a week's growth of beard, but he had been tired of life for six months. The sands of the desert were in his throat and he humped a pack, which was heavy but not quite as heavy as his heart, for his nights were full of dreams, dreams of a dead boy lying at his feet in the big hall at Tynewood Chase. At his belt, in a two-inch holster, hung a long and dangerous weapon, the barrel of which was polished bright in places. He stood for a second looking at the group, then his eyes fell upon the dying man.

"Do you let the baas lie there when he is parching for water?" he demanded hoarsely—you get hoarse in a ten-mile trek through a land which is mainly salt sand and wacht ein bitje bushes.

Jan was a half-breed, and therefore a coward. Wilhelm was of the Fingo people and in consequence was born with the soul of a slave. They both foresaw desperate developments and strove to avert the coming trouble.

"Baas," said Wilhelm, "this man has found a good little reef which shows gold in the rock so that you can pick it out with the point of a knife. If he dies we will be all—"

The revolver jerked out and with a squeal in chorus the men ducked and lifted Solomon Stedman and laid him beside the water, turning him over so that his dry lips could suck the wonder-fluid.

It was two hours before Solomon Stedman could find the voice and energy to talk, and then he employed the first few minutes of recovered speech in cursing all half-breed bushmen, Kaffirs and other aborigines of South Africa.

Pretoria Smith, who had started a fire and was slicing biltong into a small cooking-pot, laughed softly.

"If it hadn't been for you, lad," said the old man, "I should have been a dead 'un, and the Stedman reef would have been staked by some other prospector—you ain't a prospector, are you?" he asked suspiciously.

"We're all prospectors," said Pretoria Smith easily. "If you mean, am I prospecting for gold, I can relieve your mind. I am not."

The old man was looking at him keenly.

"No, you ain't a prospector; you're a gentleman, ain't you?" he asked. "But you're not a new chum, I'll swear."

"Not exactly" replied the other, cutting off the top of a tin of vegetables and emptying the contents into the pot. "I've shot up and down this country since I was a boy of seventeen. In fact, when I left Eton."

Pretoria Smith was not usually so communicative, but the old man had a trick of drawing confidences.

"I was in German West Africa and German East Africa during the war," Smith went on.. "In fact, I've not spent six months at a time away from this infernal continent since I was a kid."

"Where are you going now?" asked the other.

Pretoria Smith shrugged his shoulders.

"Anywhere for a change," he said vaguely.

The old man was very thoughtful through the meal which followed, and sat by the fire pulling at his pipe, staring hard into the dancing flames. Presently he knocked the ashes out of his pipe deliberately and asked:

"Do you want to make your fortune?"

Pretoria Smith, deep in his own thoughts, looked up sharply.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well," said the old man slowly "I have found the Kalahari reef."

"The devil you have!" said Pretoria Smith. "I thought that was one of the legends of Africa. People have always thought there was a reef in the Kalahari Desert, but it's never been found."

"I've found it," said Solomon Stedman triumphantly "Now, what do you say?"

"To what?"

"To coming in with me. I want a younger man, and I owe you something for what you did today."

"Don't be a fool," said Pretoria Smith pleasantly "'Who wouldn't give a dying man water? I want no decorations for that. And I want no fortunes either. I've quite enough to get along with."

Solomon Stedman stared at him.

"You're the first lad I've ever met that didn't want money," he chuckled. "Well, it's not going to be so easy to get, or perhaps I shouldn't offer you a share. The reef's got to be proved and prospected, and it means a year's hard work. Then I'll have to get the money to float the mine, and that'll want some doing."

Pretoria Smith scratched his unshaven chin.

"Work attracts me more than the wealth," he smiled, and Solomon took that as an acceptance of his offer.

He spoke about his own life and his struggles after a while, though Pretoria Smith volunteered no further information about himself.

"Mind you," said the old man, "even if I make good on this reef I've neither kith nor kin to leave my money to. There's a kid in England, the daughter of my brother—he was a bit of a fool, was Fred—and she's the only relation I have in the world. Minnie, her name is—no, Margaret—no—" He fumbled in his pocket and produced a bundle of letters from which he extracted one. "Marjorie, that's the name," he said, setting a pair of old pince-nez on his nose. "Marjorie. A regular girl she is. She's written me since she was a baby."

"Indeed!" said Pretoria Smith politely. He was not particularly interested in the relatives of Solomon Stedman, and found more pleasure in watching the incongruous picture of this rough man with the glasses set askew on his nose.

"A well-educated young lady; she is," nodded Solomon Stedman. "My brother Fred was well educated too, though he didn't know enough to get out of the rain and was always spending about ten per cent more than he earned. Have you ever heard of the Stedmans in England?"

"I can't remember having met one," smiled Pretoria Smith. "But then, of course, I don't know many people in England, and very few people know me."

"I've been keeping his widow for years," boasted the old man complacently "just a few pounds a month to help things along, you understand. I've been able to send her more lately; and if we get the reef going, my boy—"

He shook his head at the magnificence of the prospect. Solomon Stedman had not exaggerated the difficulties or the arduous character of the undertaking. For six months under a blazing sun the two men trekked and prospected, dug big cuttings in the sandy soil, sampled quartz which often had to be carried twenty miles to the nearest water for washing; and in those six months Pretoria Smith managed to forget a lot of things he did not wish to remember. The reef was located and proved beyond doubt. Expert engineers came up from Johannesburg, mining officials arrived importantly from Cape Town; licences were assessed and paid; and twelve months after their meeting, the first four-stamp mill was thundering on the very spot where Solomon Stedman had made his recovery.

But in that time the friendship between the two men had grown in strength; and although Solomon, who prided himself upon his artfulness, had failed to discover anything further about his partner, the reticence of Pretoria Smith rather helped to tighten the bond between them than to loosen it. The friendship was measured by a year and the fractions of years. The four-stamp mill had multiplied itself, and the little township of Stedmanville had come into being. A huge pumping plant to bring the water, and the installation of an electric power house, had occupied Pretoria Smith's fullest attentions, and he began to share the pride of the old man in this great achievement.

Two years had passed when the old man met his younger partner at the head of the main shaft. "Remember that sister-in-law of mine?" he asked. He had reached the age when he repeated stories over and over again, and Pretoria Smith had had little chance of forgetting the unfortunate lady whom old Solomon invariably described as "a useless kind of woman."

"Well, it appears she's got a nephew she's sending out."

"Fine!" said Pretoria Smith. "Where is she sending him out from?"

"She's sending him out from England, of course," said Solomon. "He's arriving next week. According to my sister, there's a sort of engagement between this lad and Lily—Margaret—"

"Marjorie," suggested Pretoria Smith with a little grin. "What a forgetful old devil you are!"

"Ain't I?" said Solomon, lost in self-admiration. "Well, this young spark and my niece are mashed on one another."

"Solomon, Solomon," reproved Pretoria Smith, shaking his head, "you're a vulgar old man! And why shouldn't he be 'mashed' on her, anyway? It's the way of the young, Solomon. We old gentlemen do not understand such things."

"Old!" scoffed Solomon. "Why you're only a kid yourself! His name," he went on, consulting a letter, "is Lance Kelman."

"And a very pretty name too," said Smith, slapping the other on the shoulder. "Now do you want me to meet the gentleman in the family Ford, or is he walking?"

Solomon apparently had ideas of his partner going to Kimberley to meet the visitor, but this suggestion Pretoria Smith vetoed, and was not sorry he took this stand when Mr Lance Kelman disgorged himself and some half a dozen large trunks from the Bulawayo mail one spring morning, and stood gazing disconsolately around the unpromising landscape.

He was a beautifully tailored young man, wearing the kit which he regarded as being appropriate to travel in the wilds. His tight-kneed, baggy breeches were of exquisite cut, his white shirt was silk and stainless, and he wore a coat shaped at the waist. The only person in sight on the platform when he arrived was Pretoria Smith, who watched the accumulation of luggage with a feeling of wonder and awe. Presently Mr Lance Kelman, looking round, caught sight of the tall figure and beckoned him.

"I say," he said loudly "how can I get to Mr Solomon Stedman's mine? I am his nephew."

"You can reach the mine on my humble motor car," said Pretoria Smith, "and I will send an ox-wagon for your baggage."

"Oh, you've come to meet me, have you?" said Mr Lance Kelman patronizingly "Well, you might tell these fellows what to do with the baggage until your wagon comes. I shall want to take some things with me, of course."

"There will be room for your vanity bag," said Pretoria Smith good-humouredly as he picked up a polished dressing-case and led the way to the car. "You'll get the rest of your stuff by the evening."

The newcomer looked at him suspiciously.

"I'm Mr Solomon Stedman's nephew," he said again with emphasis.

"So you remarked before," replied Pretoria Smith coolly. "Does that mean you'd rather come by the ox-wagon?"

"Now, don't be insolent, my friend," said Lance Kelman loudly and Smith chuckled.

The journey back to the mine was completed in dignified silence as far as Lance Kelman was concerned. Even when he was introduced to Pretoria Smith as the partner of the old man, his attitude did not unbend.

"Well, what do you think of my nephew?" asked Solomon when the young man had been taken to the galvanized-iron hut which was to be his home during his stay.

"He's very pretty" answered Pretoria Smith cautiously "So that's the young man your niece is engaged to?"

"Well, I don't know about engaged," hesitated Solomon. "Do you like him?"

"Next to a bad attack of mumps, he's the most popular thing I've been brought into contact with," said Pretoria Smith.