Chapter Nineteen.
The King’s Necklace.
With the return of Lobelalatutu from his gruesome task, and while the bodies of M’Bongwele and M’Pusa still swung from the tree, the professor turned to his friends and said—
“Having disposed of one king, the onus now rests upon us of appointing another. The question consequently arises: What is to govern us in the somewhat delicate task of choosing a suitable man?”
“Yes,” agreed Sir Reginald; “and it is a somewhat difficult question to answer: very much too difficult to answer offhand. We want a man—”
“Excuse me for interrupting you, old chap,” broke in Lethbridge; “but I should like to offer a suggestion, based upon my knowledge of the peculiarities of the savage mind, as acquired in various out-of-the-way corners of the globe. In the light of what this chief, Lobelalatutu, has told us to-day, I am of opinion that we made a rather serious mistake when, on the occasion of our last visit here, we appointed Seketulo as king without consulting the wishes of the other chiefs. I would therefore suggest that we instruct the chiefs to hold a pow-wow to-night for the purpose of deciding upon, and submitting to us to-morrow, the names of such individuals as they consider suitable for the position. What say you, Professor? You, too, have had some experience with natives; what do you think of my plan?”
“I think it excellent in every way,” answered the professor, heartily; “so excellent, indeed, that I very strongly support it.”
“All right,” agreed Sir Reginald; “I can see no possible objection to the scheme. What do you say, Colonel, and you—Hillo! what has become of Mildmay?”
“It would not very profoundly surprise me if it should be found that he is below, doing his best to entertain the ladies,” observed Lethbridge, with a grin. “And, if so, there is really no need to disturb him; he is sure to agree to anything that we may decide upon. What think you of our plan, Colonel?”
“Well, really, I have had so little experience in matters of the kind, that I do not feel competent to express an opinion. But since my very excellent friend, von Schalckenberg, so thoroughly approves of it, I am certain that it must be a good one,” answered Sziszkinski.
“Very good, then; that is settled. Will you tell those fellows down there, Professor?” said Sir Reginald.
Von Schalckenberg did so, and then dismissed the people to their huts, commanding the chief, Lobelalatutu, however, to ascend to the deck again for a few minutes, as they had one or two further questions to put to him.
“And now,” remarked the professor, as the chief joined them, “our next business, I take it, is to discover who were those unfortunate white people who died under such barbarous circumstances, to amuse M’Bongwele and set his jealous fears at rest.”
“Certainly,” agreed Sir Reginald. “It is our manifest duty to do so. And, if we can identify any of them, it will also be our painful duty to make public the particulars of their most miserable fate, and, if possible, communicate with their relatives; also to despatch to those relatives any relics that they may have left behind them. Ask Lobelalatutu if he happens to know what became of the poor souls’ belongings.”
Von Schalckenberg put the question, and learned in reply that whatever may have belonged to the unhappy party would undoubtedly be found in the king’s palace.
“Of course,” remarked the professor, “we might have guessed as much! Well, is there anything more that we wish to ask our black friend?”
“Ask him whether any portion of the wreck still exists, and, if so, where it is to be found,” suggested Sir Reginald.
The professor and Lobelalatutu conversed together for a few minutes, and then the former, turning to his companion, said—
“The chief tells me that the wreck has disappeared, but that he can point out to us the spot where it lay. I think we ought to examine it, do not you?”
“Undoubtedly,” agreed Sir Reginald. “We may perhaps be able to go over and take a look at it to-morrow, after this matter of the choice of a new king is settled. Meanwhile, there goes the luncheon-bell. After lunch we might give the ‘palace’ an overhaul, and see what we can find of interest there.”
So it was arranged, and Lobelalatutu then received his dismissal.
In accordance with Sir Reginald’s suggestion, he, the professor, Lethbridge, and Colonel Sziszkinski quietly left the ship that same afternoon, about three o’clock, to institute a search in the palace for any relics of the shipwrecked party that M’Bongwele might have preserved. Mildmay very willingly agreed to remain on board the ship to keep the ladies company, and see, generally, that nothing went amiss with them.
But before they left the ship, von Schalckenberg handed to each of the party a small box, about half the size of this book.
“Our experiences in the forest, the other day, when we were lost there,” said he, “suggested to me the importance of providing some means of communicating with the ship—and with each other, if need be—under similar circumstances, and the outcome of my cogitations upon the subject is these little boxes, which are all precisely alike.”
He opened the one he held in his hand, and proceeded to explain the use of the instrument.
“It is very simple,” he said. “Let us assume that you wish to communicate with the ship. You draw your box from your pocket, and press firmly upon this small black knob, thus: and a bell instantly rings in the pilot-house, and in every one of the habitable chambers of the ship—for I have coupled them all up together in order that, wherever the occupants of the ship may be, they will hear at least one of the bells, and will know that one of us is calling. Incidentally I may mention that a bell will at the same time ring in each of our instruments. Listen!”
The professor pressed the knob of his own instrument; and as he did so the sound of many bells, not very loud, but still perfectly distinct, came to them from every part of the ship, and also from the instrument that each man held in his hand.
“So!” said von Schalckenberg. “Now, when any of us hears the sound of the bell in his instrument, he at once withdraws that instrument from his pocket, and touches the small red knob. This stops the ringing of his own particular bell—as you may ascertain by experiment—and at the same time informs the other person—by the momentary stoppage of his bell—that some one is in touch with him. Then the person who desires to communicate proceeds somewhat in this fashion. Releasing his pressure on the black knob, he draws out this small tube from the box, inserts its nozzle into his ear, and says into this mouthpiece—
“‘Hillo, there! Are you the Flying Fish?’
“‘No,’ comes the answer. ‘I am von Schalckenberg.’
“‘Thanks! I want the Flying Fish,’ you say; and you press your black knob again until you get a reply from the ship.”
“Why, what a splendid little device!” exclaimed Sir Reginald. “When did you invent this, Professor?”
“I thought it out that day when we were lost in the forest, and I made my first experimental instrument the next day. It is a wireless telephone; and it is powerful enough, I believe, to permit of intelligible conversation over a space of about fifty miles. But I cannot speak with certainty on that point without subjecting the instrument to actual trial. It is very roughly made, as you see, but if it answers its purpose, it will serve until we can get smaller and neater ones made.”
“Precisely. Utility before beauty, eh, Professor?” remarked Lethbridge. “Not,” he added, “but that this is neat and handy enough for anything. Well, we need never fear being lost again, I think; for it would be hard if, with these little instruments to ring up our friend Mildmay, we could not give him some sort of a clue as to the direction in which to look for us. And now, I suppose, we may as well go.”
It was but a few steps from the ship to the “palace,” which, after all, was only a somewhat larger hut than any of the rest, and a couple of minutes sufficed the party to reach it. They found it unoccupied, for the king’s wives were lodged in an adjoining hut, from which, as the four white men neared it, they became aware of a subdued sound of wailing, which they correctly interpreted as the mourning of the ladies over the tragic end of their lord and master. The interior of the palace consisted of but one circular apartment, some twenty-five feet in diameter, hung round with magnificent “karosses,” or curtains, made of the skins of various wild animals. One of these karosses instantly arrested their attention, from the fact that it conveyed to them the information that Africa contained at least one other new animal in addition to those already discovered by them. It was made of zebra skins; but there was a peculiarity in the marking which clearly indicated that the animals from which the skins had been taken were of a new and quite unknown variety. The peculiarity consisted in the fact that the head, neck, forelegs, and front half of the body were of a dark-brown colour, while the hinder half of the body was striped like that of the ordinary zebra.
Von Schalckenberg was at once plunged into an ecstasy of delight at the discovery, and, with the ruthlessness of the true scientist, announced his determination to despoil the palace of that particular kaross, let the opinion of the Makolo upon his act of spoliation be what it might; and he also there and then secured Sir Reginald’s amused consent to proceed eventually in search of the living animals, if it should prove possible to learn from the natives where they were to be found.
The furniture of the palace was of the most primitive description, consisting of a very roughly constructed bed, a low table, of equally rough manufacture, and an armchair decorated with rude but very elaborate carvings. There was also a chest—obviously an ordinary sailor’s sea-chest—which Sir Reginald opened, under the belief that here, if anywhere, would be found such relics of the unfortunate white people as might still remain in existence.
The chest proved to be about three-parts full, and the first articles that came to hand were the king’s very handsome gold coronet, his lion-skin mantle, and a necklace of what at first sight appeared to be red pebbles. Upon closer inspection, however, the stones were pronounced by the professor to be uncut and unpolished rubies of exceptional size and beauty, but which were ruined by the roughness and size of their perforations. There were ninety-three of them in all, strung upon a thin strip of deerskin, and, had they been perfect, would have been worth about ten thousand pounds.
The professor’s eyes sparkled as he held the necklace up to the light and noted the fire and deep, rich colour of the stones.
“Ah!” he ejaculated, “here is wealth with a vengeance, but reduced to about a tenth part of its original value by the crass ignorance and stupidity of somebody who did not know what irreparable mischief he was doing when he chipped and punched those ghastly great holes. I wonder, now, where they were found! Somewhere not very far from here, I’ll be bound, or they would not have found their way into M’Bongwele’s hands. I must ask Lobelalatutu about these; possibly he may be able to tell us where they came from, and, if so, there will be an opportunity not only for each of us to add considerably to our stock of precious stones, but also for me to acquire a little of that wealth which I so urgently need for the purpose that I mentioned to you, Sir Reginald, when you were good enough to invite me to make one of your party on this cruise.”
“All right, Professor; I remember,” answered Sir Reginald, cheerily. “If you can learn where these stones were found, we will go there, and you shall have a full week in which to collect as many as you can.”
The next articles in the chest upon which the searchers laid hands, consisted of a soldier’s castoff scarlet coat, buttonless, and very much the worse for wear; an old pair of blue trousers decorated on the side seams with tarnish-blackened gold lace; and a most shockingly battered old cocked hat; all of which they recognised with laughter as gifts presented by themselves to M’Bongwele upon the occasion of their former visit. And beneath these, again, they found two pairs of coarse blue-cloth trousers, a thick pilot-cloth coat, two blue-striped shirts, a pair of coarse worsted stockings, and one or two other oddments that had evidently belonged to one or more of the ill-fated party of white people who had fallen into M’Bongwele’s hands, and of whose identity the searchers were now endeavouring to discover some trace. But the clothing bore no name, not even of the maker, nor were there any letters or documents of any kind in the chest to indicate the name or nationality of the owner. Nor was anything of the kind to be found anywhere in the hut, although the searchers carefully examined it throughout and also every article that it contained. The only chance, therefore, that remained to them was to visit the scene of the wreck, and endeavour to find some vestige of the ship herself.
When, on the morrow of this somewhat eventful day, the male members of the Flying Fish party went on deck to smoke an after-breakfast pipe, they found the chiefs assembled in the Great Place below, awaiting their appearance for the purpose of submitting the names of those of their number considered most acceptable for the vacant kingship.
And now a rather amusing difficulty arose; for when von Schalckenberg invited the chosen chiefs to ascend to the deck of the Flying Fish, in order that the Spirits might determine which of them should receive the position, the whole of them, sixteen in number, gravely ascended the side-ladder and ranged themselves in line before the arbiters of their fate. And when the professor demanded of Lobelalatutu an explanation of this somewhat singular proceeding, he was informed that at the conference of the preceding evening, each chief had calmly and resolutely voted for himself. This somewhat complicated the matter, and brought about a situation full of troublous possibilities, calling for very careful and diplomatic handling; the four “Spirits,” therefore, having seated themselves in deck-chairs, invited each chief to step forward, in turn, and state briefly, first, the grounds upon which he based his belief in his own fitness for the post of king, and, secondly, the lines upon which he would govern, and the course of conduct which he would observe generally in the event of his nomination. To each man was accorded a certain number of good and also of bad marks corresponding to the nature of the replies given by him, the bad marks being deducted from the good, and the candidate’s fitness judged by the number of good marks then remaining to him. Thus carefully examined, three of the chiefs were eventually found to be equally suitable, upon which discovery the choice of one from among them was determined by the simple process of “odd man out,” as a result of which—to the great satisfaction of the judges—Lobelalatutu proved to be the fortunate individual. The fifteen unsuccessful candidates were, naturally, somewhat chagrined at their failure, but they had seen and understood enough of the proceedings to satisfy them of the absolute fairness of the test, and they therefore took their defeat with a good grace, and made no demur when they were presently required to swear fealty to their new sovereign.
This matter having been satisfactorily arranged, the bodies of M’Bongwele and the chief witch-doctor were ordered to be cut down and interred in the open country outside the village, after which the new king was crowned by no less a personage than Sir Reginald himself, while the professor invested him with the regal mantle of lion-skin, and Lethbridge dropped the ruby necklace over his head, the ceremony being performed on the deck of the Flying Fish, in the presence of the entire populace of the village.
The ceremony of coronation having thus been duly performed, the new king was at once called upon to exercise his regal functions for the first time by fulfilling one of the promises that he had made, this being the abolition of the power of the witch-doctors. These functionaries were accordingly summoned before him and bidden to pack up their traps and quit the country forthwith under an armed escort, an assurance being given them that if they were ill-advised enough to return after they had been conducted across the border, they would be slain at sight.
“And now, Lobelalatutu,” said von Schalckenberg, when this matter had been arranged and the people dismissed, “there are two things that we require you to do for us. The first is, to tell us, if you can, where M’Bongwele obtained those stones,”—pointing to the necklace of rubies—“and the other is, to guide us to the spot where the ship of the white people was last seen.”
“I can do both with equal ease, and at the same time, O Spirit,” answered the new king, “for these red stones were found by our people on the beach and in the soil of the cliffs at the spot where they came upon the wrecked white men and women. A few were found, in the first place, on the beach, and, being of a pleasing colour and shooting forth a ruddy light, were offered to M’Bongwele, who so greatly admired them that he sent the finders back to look for more, with orders to bring him enough to make a necklace.”
“And you know the exact spot?” demanded the professor.
“I know the exact spot; for my brother was one of the finders, and he told me,” answered Lobelalatutu.
“Good!” ejaculated the professor. “Your brother shall go with us, and point out the place.”
“Nay,” answered the king; “he cannot do that, for he is dead. M’Bongwele slew him with his own hand.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed the professor. “Why?”
“Because he was my brother,” answered the king, simply.
Von Schalckenberg turned to Sir Reginald. “His most gracious Majesty, here, tells me that he can show us where the wreck lies, and also where those rubies were found,” said he. “If the rest of you are quite agreeable, it appears to me that there is no very particular reason why we should not go there at once. We seem to have finished our business here, at all events, for the present.”
“All right,” agreed the baronet; “let us go. We will take Lobelalatutu with us, and get him to point out the places; then one of us can run him back here, and land him, while the others take a stroll along the beach and fill their pockets with rubies—if they can find any.”
The professor accordingly explained to the newly created monarch what was proposed; and then Sir Reginald retired to the pilot-house to assume the duties of navigator. A minute later the inhabitants of the village had the gratification of witnessing the flight into the air of their new king, not as a prisoner, but as a friend of the Great Spirits, who were doubtless taking him away with them on some business of importance connected with the welfare of the whole Makolo nation.