“Heaven only knows; certainly I do not,” answered Dick with a lugubrious smile. “When I step ashore on the wharf at Port Natal I shall not know in what direction to turn my steps, or where to look for a meal or a night’s lodging. Also the whole of my available capital will consist in the wages which I shall take up when Captain Roberts gives me my discharge, amounting, probably, to a couple of shillings.”
“What?” ejaculated Grosvenor incredulously. “Oh, I say, my dear chap, you are not in earnest, surely?”
“Indeed I am, then, in deadly earnest,” answered Dick. “But I am not worrying. I am strong and more than willing to work, and I mean to take the very first job that comes to hand, let it be what it will. I believe that if a chap is willing to work he can always get something to do, though it may not be precisely the kind of work that he would like. And when once I have secured the means of providing myself with board and lodging I shall be able to look round for something better.”
“Yes—yes, of course you will,” responded Grosvenor, a little dubiously. “I say, old chap,” he continued admiringly, “you are a ‘gritty’ beggar, and no mistake! I wonder if you would mind telling me your story?”
“No, not at all,” answered Dick; “there is nothing in it that I need be ashamed of.” And forthwith he proceeded to give his new-found friend a brief yet clear account of the circumstances which had resulted in his being reduced to his present plight.
“By Jove, Maitland, I admire you!” exclaimed Grosvenor when Dick had come to the end of his story. “There is not one man in a hundred who, under similar circumstances, would have tackled the situation with the indomitable pluck and whole-hearted belief in himself that you have shown; and I feel sure that such courage will meet with its just reward. You are the kind of fellow that always comes out on top, simply because you will not allow yourself to be kept down. Now, look here, I am going to make a proposition to you—and, understand me, it is on purely selfish grounds that I am going to make it. I am going out to South Africa because I want to forget a—well, a very bitter disappointment that I have recently sustained, and the particulars of which I will perhaps tell you some day if you fall in with my proposition, as I hope you will. The way in which I propose to conquer this disappointment of mine is to go in for a life of adventure—exploration of the interior, big-game shooting, and that sort of thing, you understand. I have heard some most thrilling stories of the wonderful things and people that are to be found in the interior of Africa, and, while many of them are doubtless lies, there is evidence enough of a perfectly reliable character to prove that there is at least a certain amount of truth in others; and it is my purpose to ascertain at firsthand the exact measure of that truth. Take, for example, the contention of certain antiquarians that the ruins of Ophir must exist somewhere upon the east coast. I have read pretty nearly everything that has been written upon that subject, and I am convinced of the soundness of the contention, as I am also of the contention that Zimbabwé is not ancient Ophir. Then, again, there is the statement of the existence of a mysterious white race in the far interior, which persistently crops up at intervals. It would be interesting in the extreme to be able to settle that matter beyond a doubt, wouldn’t it? Very well, then; my idea is to attempt to find ancient Ophir, and also the mysterious white race, if possible.
“Of course I know that what I propose is scarcely in the nature of a picnic; it no doubt means a good deal of hardship, privation, and danger; in fact, my friends without exception pronounced me a fool for thinking of engaging in such an undertaking, while at least half of them confidently prophesy that if I make the attempt I shall never return. Well, that is as may be; plenty of better fellows than I have gone under in such excursions, but, on the other hand, as big duffers as I am have done great things and turned up again all right, so there is no particular reason that I can see why I should not do the same. And so far as money is concerned I have more than enough to enable me to equip the expedition in such a manner as to ensure the minimum of discomfort with the maximum of everything necessary to success. The only item that I have had any doubt as to my ability to obtain is—a suitable companion; for of course in my maddest moments I have never been ass enough to contemplate going into so big a thing single-handed. But the precise kind of man that I want was not to be found either among my friends or elsewhere at home, so I came away without him, trusting that I should be lucky enough to pick him up somewhere on the way; and, by Jove, Maitland, the event has justified my trust; for I have found in you exactly the kind of man I have had in my mind all along—or, rather, somebody better, for in addition to your other qualifications you have very considerable skill as a physician and surgeon, which is what I never hoped to secure, even in my most sanguine moments.”
“Do you wish me to infer, then, that you are proposing to take me as a hired assistant—or what?” demanded Dick.
“Well, yes—and no,” answered Grosvenor, with a somewhat embarrassed laugh. “As a hired assistant, certainly, because the services of a fellow like yourself would be of incalculable value to me, especially when the inevitable sickness comes along. But I want particularly to secure you because—well, to be perfectly plain and blunt, because I have taken a great fancy to you, and because I recognise in you exactly the qualities that would make of you not only an invaluable assistant but also a perfectly ideal partner, friend, and companion. Therefore, in your capacity as medical attendant to the expedition I propose to offer you a regular fixed salary of, let us say, two guineas a day, or, taking one month with another, sixty-five pounds a month—the first six months to be paid in advance—and, in your capacity of partner, all the ivory, skins, and other matters which we may accumulate during the progress of the expedition, except what I may desire to appropriate as trophies wherewith to adorn the ancestral halls.”
Dick laughed. “Thank you very much,” he said, “but I couldn’t possibly accede to your terms; they are altogether too glaringly unfair. The salaried part I don’t at all object to, because of course if you desire to include a medical man in your retinue you must pay him a fair salary, and two guineas a day is not too much, in my opinion. But when you come to talk about my share of the spoils, in my capacity of your partner, it becomes a different matter altogether, since I cannot contribute a farthing to the expenses of the expedition, therefore I cannot by any process of reasoning be entitled to any share of its possible profits. No; if you care to engage me as doctor, at the salary that you have named, I will accept the post with pleasure and my most hearty thanks, because the pay will suffice to keep the dear old Mater going; and when we return to civilisation—if we ever do—I shall be able to set about the task in earnest of ‘making my fortune.’”