With Airship and Submarine: A Tale of Adventure

by Harry Collingwood

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.