He drew up his sleeve, and showed a white cicatrice on his arm, which must have been a dangerous wound; and then began to tell of his African adventures, of battles with savage tribes, of explorings in unknown wilds, fights with wild beasts, elephant hunts, witchcraft ceremonies of the Obi kind, until the listeners did not know at which to marvel most, his memory or the bizarre existence he had led.
“I had five years of that sort of thing,” he went on, after a pause, “and it became rather tiresome. Besides, I was now thirty-five years of age, and thought it was best to settle down, but where I could not make up my mind. He who has prairie fever once always gets it again, and it sends him off on his travels into the wilds as if he were stung by the gadfly of Io. What I wanted was some big work to keep my mind and body busy; but, with all my wealth, I really did not see where I could find such occupation. True, I might have remained in Africa, and become a kind of savage king; but, with all my buccaneering leanings, I had intellect enough to despise such rusting away in tropical forests beyond the reach of civilization. I wished to exercise my brain as well as my body; yet, in spite of all my hard thinking, no scheme appeared feasible enough to give me work, interest, and pleasure when I had passed the meridian of life. England I disliked returning to, as a cramped existence in that gray little island would have sent me mad; and unless I had asserted my right to Roylands, and entered Parliament, I did not see how I could employ my time. Besides, I was averse to disturbing Austin; and the prejudices I would meet with on all sides from narrow-minded stay-at-homes would have sent me back again to a savage life. Unlike the Genii in the “Arabian Nights,” I could not go back to my jar after once being released therefrom.
“England, therefore, being out of the question, I had serious thoughts of returning to South America, and exploring up the Orinoco river, where they say all sorts of buried cities, civilized Indians, and golden temples are to be found. Then, changing my mind, I almost decided to go to San Francisco, and have a try at gold-digging. Feeling doubtful of this being worth undertaking, I fancied Australia, where fortunes were being made up Ballarat way, would suit me; but this idea I also abandoned. I did not wish to make my fortune, as I already had more money than I knew what to do with; and it was all safely invested in England. You see, Maurice, I had the price of my army commission, which was no great sum, my mother’s fortune, which was considerable, and also that enormous Incas treasure I dug up near Lake Titicaco, which nearly cost me my life, as I told you; so you can fancy I was quite a millionnaire long before the days of Chicago pig-sticking and Pennsylvanian oil wells.”
“How did you decide to come to the Ægean?”
“Well, that came about in a queer sort of way,” said the Demarch, lighting his pipe. “When I was up at Zanzibar, which was about as far north as I had then got, I met a poor devil of a Greek who was starving, so took him about with me as a kind of companion. He had been mixed up in the War of Independence, and got on the bad side of King Otho, who was, at that time, ruling Greece about as badly as it could be ruled. My Greek had a dream of reviving the old Hellenic learning; but with the country under a Bavarian king, and overrun with brigands, he did not see how this could be done. I told him of my desire to find something to occupy my mind and body; so he suggested, as I had such a lot of money, I ought to try to start a little kingdom of my own on an intellectual basis. The idea took my fancy greatly, as I was always of an administrative turn of mind; and then he told me about this island of Melnos, and how it could be cultivated, fortified, and made into a kind of Elysium by a man with capital. After some deliberation I decided to do this, and pose as a second Lord Byron; therefore, with my Greek, I went up the coast in a trading vessel, and into the Red Sea. It was very uncivilized in those days, and we had all kinds of adventures, in one of which my poor Hellene was knocked on the head; so I was left to battle my way on alone over the isthmus to the Mediterranean.”
“I wonder you were not killed.”
“I was pretty nearly,” rejoined Justinian grimly; “especially up Suez way. Of course, at that time, there was no canal, and no Suez; but I managed somehow to get across the isthmus to Alexandria. I need not tell you all my adventures from the time I left Zanzibar, as it would take too long; but they were just as exciting as the Bolivian escapades, if not quite as bloodthirsty.”
“You ought to publish a book of your career.”
“My dear Crispin, they would call me a second Baron Munchausen, for many of my adventures would seem impossible in these tame days of Cook’s tourist parties. The thirties were a great falling off from the buccaneering times, but in these days the thirties seem quite bloodthirsty; and where the next generation of born adventurers, such as I was, will find scope for the exercise of their talents, I am sure I do not know.”
“Well, uncle, and what did you do after Alexandria?”