It was observed that Mr Burden stopped somewhat suddenly, as in amazement, when he approached the soldier; and, indeed, the sight which met his gaze was novel to him, and might have proved entrancing to a better balanced mind.
Major Pondo, who boasted no regular commission from any crowned head or president, had yet perhaps seen more real fighting than any of those who are pleased to call themselves professional soldiers. Even in this brilliant assembly, a dark contusion upon his left cheek-bone was markedly visible, and a deep gash, clumsily sewn up across the cusp of the chin, marked an adventure suffered somewhere far from medical aid. In stature, he has been described as so short as to be almost dwarfish. It is an error into which my contemporaries have been led by the sturdy build and short, strong neck of the explorer. His exact height, as it appears in official records, where the photograph, thumb-marks, and many other accurate measurement of his anatomy are preserved, is 1·3587 metres, or in English notation, almost exactly five feet two inches.
MAJOR PONDO
(AN EXTRACT FROM THE PICTURE OF THE RECEPTION AT BARNETT HOUSE. BY THE COURTESY OF THE PROPRIETORS OF “SOCIAL SKETCHES,” A WEEKLY MAGAZINE)
Tropical suns and arctic snows in Mexico and Manitoba had tanned his skin to the colour of wet elm. His teeth were even and of a brilliant white, which stood in almost painful relief against the complexion I have described.
His head, which was of great size, was bald, save for a considerable cluster of hair at the back and just beside the ears. But though this adornment was sparse, it was never unkempt; and Mr Burden, while yet he was some way off, could distinguish upon it the gloss of a recent unguent. The scalp was a mighty dome, and over the eyes was fixed a frown, which indicated less a habit of scowling than the fixed impression of indomitable energy. The face was clean shaven, and the eyes of a beautiful soft brown, approaching black. Their glances were slow and measured, but seemed to betray a certain unfamiliarity with his surroundings. The right foot thrust out firmly a few inches before the left; the right hand, holding the coffee cup in a simple but powerful gesture, the left clenched just above the small of his back, such was the figure whose name at least is familiar to every Englishman, such was the human monolith which stood immovable in the swirling of the throng as Mr Burden approached it with wondering eyes. Mr Barnett introduced and left them together.
In that introduction the explorer had bowed, but had not uttered a word. To the first remarks Mr Burden somewhat timidly made, he replied with gestures alone; to a compliment, with a slight smile; to a theory upon the climate of the M’Korio valley, with a cough that committed him to nothing.
My old friend has confessed to me that, for some moments, he was in dread lest Major Pondo might be dumb. He was even seized with a terror that the man was ill-acquainted with the English language, until the word “Yas!” mouthed out in the rich accent of Jamaica, convinced him that he was in error. It was the prelude to a short account, delivered as it were by rote, of the Major’s life and adventures, at the close of which dark silence redescended. Mr Burden, so far from finding his suspicions allayed, was tortured with every manner of doubt.
If it were my purpose to defend my friend, I should find no difficulty in holding such a brief. It must be remembered that he was wholly ignorant of the new world into which he had wandered, and that men such as Major Pondo, or indeed any other of those who yearly and almost daily spread the bounds of our power, were quite unknown to him. His irritability and unstable spirit, the result, as I still believe, of old age, have been evident throughout these pages, and it must be added that the hour was late—far later than the merchant would have permitted himself had he obeyed his medical adviser—that the glare, the heat, the multitude, all combined to arouse in him a morbid judgment, and to enflame distorted views which were due in the main to the failure of his health.
But it is not my business to defend him. I have no duty but to enumerate quite simply, the facts in their order. Were I to trespass upon another ground, I might find myself in competition with the labours of Mr and Mrs O’Rourke, the very mention of whose existence I particularly desire to avoid.