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Explorer
972 Posts |
 Posted - May 15 2008 : 01:59:50 AM
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This Fic is Rated as Mature, and contains adult themes that may be unsuitable for younger readers or for those who are easily distressed by scenes of sex, violence, or candid accounts of life in somewhat uncivilized countries in times past. This Fic contains scenes of wild animals being killed for sport, for protection, and for food. This may be stressful to timid persons, to young children, or to those who are emotionally delicate. Persons depicted here are fictional or are used fictitiously, and no resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is intended, apart from known historical figures, who are used fictitiously.
Some characters are my own, and others are from the TV series The Lost World, and property rights to them reside with the estate of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, New Line Cinema, and other interested parties. Romantic relationships in the story have progressed beyond those depicted in the Treehouse when The Lost World TV program ended. All three couples in my prior Fics are now married. These are: The Roxtons (John and Marguerite), The Challengers (George and Finn), and the Malones (Ned and Veronica). Social attitudes are those of the times, to give authentic flavor to the story. Racial derogatives employed are not endorsed by the writer, but it would be unrealistic to avoid them, and detract from the authenticity of the story. No offense is intended toward any modern ethnic group. These terms were not used on the TV show, and their inclusion has no association with any rights holder to the intellectual property of The Lost World.
DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. Some very restrictive nations may also limit whether one is free to read mature -rated fiction. Know your local laws.
On Safari
by
Explorer
-----Kenya Colony, British East Africa, 1928-----
Marguerite Roxton sat at a table, a rather nice table actually, in the New Stanley Hotel in Nairobi. She was listening to her husband discussing with their white hunter which species of game they would seek first when their safari got underway in two days' time. In the interim, they would have safari clothing made to measure, including boots, and purchase mosquito nets and a few other essentials that they had not brought from Britain. They already owned a good deal of their gear and had bought some additional items at home, leaving a minimum to be acquired here, in this outpost of their Empire.
The hunter, Geoff Blacklaws, was telling Lord John Roxton something about antelopes. "Isn't that right, Lady Roxton?" said Blacklaws heartily. He took a sip of his whisky and water and looked expectantly at his female client.
Marguerite was startled. She had been only half listening, her mind occupied by something that she had seen as they unloaded their luggage outside the hotel and checked in.
She remembered what the men were saying. "Ah, Mr. Blacklaws, that's all very interesting to my husband, I'm sure, but I can never sort out the differences between those similar antelope. The topi and the hartebeest, in particular, always baffle me. But don't mind me: I'm a simple female. What do I know about these matters?" She smiled charmingly, and Blacklaws, like many another man before, was enchanted.
Roxton was less pleased. "Come now, Marguerite," he demanded. "Don't you remember me showing you these species from the mounted ones at home and in friends' dens? And the zoo? You at least recall the similar ones, like the impala, the reedbuck, and the Uganda kob? And the little duikers and the Thomson's and other gazelles? We'll collect some of those for trophies and for camp meat. You'll find them delicious."
"Quite right, Lady Roxton," echoed Blacklaws. "And we'll shoot both Greater and Lesser Kudu and Sable antelope, also. And of course, the Big Five of dangerous game."
"Oh, I know those," interjected Veronica Malone, sitting between her husband Ned and her friend Nicole "Finn" Challenger. "They're the elephant, the rhino, the cape buffalo, the lion, and the leopard. Right?"
"Right you are, Mrs. Malone," beamed Blacklaws. "I say, here comes the waiter. Would anyone care for another drink? With any luck at all, they've run a cow to ground, and the roast beef will be along shortly." He looked at Mrs. Malone and Mrs. Challenger. " And the chicken surely hasn't flown the coop, either, ladies. Your lunches will be surprisngly good, I daresay. This hotel does quite well with meals, you know. It's not like we live in the jungle, as people back in England and the States often think. " He smiled apologetically at Ned Malone, the lone American at their table. Not that Blacklaws realized that Mrs. Malone was a Brazilian, for she was of Anglo ancestry, and she spoke English like an American. Indeed, she was in the process of taking out US citizenship.
"I know there are towns here," said Ned. "But you do have a lot of empty real estate out here, too."
Blacklaws happily agreed. "Yes, indeed: MMBA is the expression. Miles and miles of bloody Africa." Everyone laughed politely.
In spite of herself, Marguerite was amused, and the hunter thought that she was still very attractive, although probably in her mid to late thirties. The two blonde ladies seemed to be in their mid twenties, with Mr. Malone a few years older than his spouse. Prof. Challenger was noticeably older than his wife, but they seemed to get along extremely well. When he had met the three couples as they arrived on the train from Mombasa, he had suspected that Mrs. Challenger had married for money. Or, perhaps she was her man's trophy bride. But he had soon realized that even if this was so, they seemed to get along famously, being quite affectionate and obviously attentive to one another. In fact, not only did all three couples get along, they seemed to be very close friends of long acquaintance.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 15 2008 : 03:40:40 AM
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'Have you all known one another before, or did you meet on the ship?"
Challenger told Blacklaws that they had spent some years together in the Amazonian jungle, and it hit the hunter with the force of a .577 Nitro Express bullet who these people were. Good heavens! Of course! That was why they looked familiar. This was the Challenger Expedition! The very people whom he had seen in the papers and in, "The Illustrated London News." They were really quite famous, although they seemed very unaffected and casual.
He pumped them for details of their experiences, and for parallel animals. "Are jaguars an awfully lot larger than our leopards? I read in your book, Mr. Malone, that your friends killed an especially savage black one that had turned out man-eater?"
The waiter said that dinner would be out soon, and asked about drinks. They all renewed, Finn Challenger and Veronica Malone opting for lemonade and glasses of water. The others drank whisky, save for Marguerite Roxton, who said that she would like another pot of tea.
Hardly had the waiter gone, when another African staffer of the hotel approached Blacklaws. "Bwana, you have telephone call at bar. Bartender say, you come soon, he hold call."
Blacklaws excused himself, and Marguerite thought that he looked quite dashing in his well cut grey suit, with a Guards tie. Probably, he swept his share of women off their feet, like her husband had once done. These days, she was glad to be the only sweeping that Roxton was doing...
"Penny for your thoughts, Darling," Roxton offered. He knew full well that she was preoccupied by something other than lunch on one hand or antelope species on the other.
She smiled slightly and decided to play this for laughs. She held out a hand. "Payment in advance, John."
Finn laughed. She was fumbling for something in her purse, and passed a penny to Roxton. "Here, Johnny. Pay her off and let's hear her. Something is occupying her mind, and we'd better know what. She has that dangerous look about her today."
"All beautiful women have a dangeous look to them, Finnykins," Marguerite said. "Don't you know that? Why should I be the exception?" She took the coin and dropped it down her bosom. "There, Roxton: you can go treasure hunting later." She smirked at the amused, embarrassed look on his face as the others laughed. Challenger, older than the others and more formal, coughed uncomfortably, but he smiled too, as his wife noted.
Malone demanded, "Well? Doesn't a penny buy anything any more?"
Marguerite lowered her voice, although it carried around the table. "Listen, did any of you notice that Arab chap talking to the Indian wallah as we unloaded luggage? The man in the green turban, rather prosperous looking, if a litle sinister?"
"Yeah," admitted Finn. "He was kinda creepy, if you ask me. Not that anyone has, until now." She grinned at her attempt at humor, and Challenger smiled and laid a large hand over one of hers in affection and support.
"Finn's right," agreed Mrs. Malone. "I got the willies from that guy. He looked at us girls like we were pieces of meat, or something. Marguerite, he kept looking at you, in particular. Maybe he prefers brunettes."
"Now, don't start that blondes vs. brunettes thing again," pleaded Ned. For years, Marguerite and the other two girls had teased one another about their respective hair colors.
None of the men had paid attention, for they had been shaking hands with Blacklaws and supervising getting their baggage from the taxi.
"So, what's the deal, Marguerite?", asked Finn. "Did this guy really creep you out? Is your Druid psychic side telling you something?" She grinned, thinking that Marguerite was being melodramatic, something for which the older woman was in fact known.
"Yes," Lady Roxton said simply. "Yes, he did. I felt a cold chill down my spine, and Roxton here was keeping his hands to himself. I have the oddest feeling that I have seen that chap somewhere before, and that it was someplace unpleasant." She looked thoughtful, and her husband became a little worried. He had learned to respect Marguerite's intuition. Her hunches were often surprisingly prescient.
"Probably nothing, " opined Ned Malone. "All of those ragheads look pretty much the same. And a lot of them look creepy. Like they get portrayed in adventure films."
Everyone agreed, but Marguerite had seen many Arabs, and she knew very well that they didn't all look alike, once you became accustomed to what to look for. Perhaps she had seen this one in Cairo some years ago, when she had had a close call with the law during the sale of some gems that were, technically speaking, not really her property to sell.
Blacklaws interrupted her concentration as he returned, the waiters bearing lunch just behind. But Marguerite made a mental note to keep her mind working on this. In time, that marvelous human computer would probably provide an answer. Probably, there was just a resemblance to someone in her past. For now, she was starved, and the food looked and smelled scrumptuous. She smiled, and reached for her fork as the chicken and vegetable meal was laid out before her.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 16 2008 : 03:32:19 AM
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As they ate, Blacklaws explained that the phone call had been from the other hunter. An expedition with six clients needed two, if not three, white hunters and their safari staffs of black "boys" and each hunter's headman.
In this case, because the other hunter knew Roxton and felt that he was of nearly professional caliber himself, and Challenger was along mainly to study local flora and fauna, two men and their crews would be enough. In any event, John A. Hunter, the other guide whom Roxton had hoped to engage, was already booked by an Indian maharaja. He was now quite a a popular professional for wealthy clients from all over the world.
The other guide for this excursion was Stuart Hamilton, DSO, MC. He had served with Roxton in France after fighting the German general von Lettow-Vorbeck in Tanganyika, and Roxton said that he was a first class man. With the Distinguished Service Order and a Military Cross to his name, he certainly had the credentials for bravery!
Hamilton had rung to say that he was leaving the garage where he had had the front axle on his hunting car repaired, and would arrive in a few minutes, He had asked that Blacklaws order his lunch. Hamilton had just driven in from his ranch in the Ngong Hills after another safari, and Roxton said that they were fortunate to acquire his services. Like Hunter, he was much in demand.
True to promise, Stuart Hamilton appeared within half an hour, just as the waiter announced that his steak was ready. Blacklaws had ordered him a gin and tonic, which the newcomer seized happily, as soon as he had been introduced around the table.
Malone noticed that the ladies seemed to like the handsome hunter, as indeed they had been eyeing Blacklaws. Both were large, powerful men, who looked as if they had stepped off of a recruiting poster or from a movie set. Blacklaws was dark haired, with a slim mustache, and fitted to a tee the adage that a man should be tall, dark, and handsome. He evoked thoughts of a swashbuckling privateer on the Spanish Main three hundred years before, or reminded people of an officer on the bridge of a destroyer going in harm's way. Some might see him as Robin Hood.
His fellow hunter was about the same height, two inches over six feet, but was fair haired and clean shaven. He was dressed in bush shirt and khaki trousers, having just driven in from his ranch. But he looked as capable of impressing clients as was his suited peer.
Marguerite Roxton looked at the newcomer as they chatted, and she and Finn Challenger exchanged a meaningful look. They glanced away from each other just in time to avoid mutually giggling. Both were quite taken with Blacklaws, and Hamilton was at least as charming. Not that any of the three ladies saw a need to share that knowledge with their spouses...Jealousy was a green-eyed monster best kept well caged.
Marguerite noticed Mrs. Malone playing with her hair as she tried to find questions for Hamilton. He fielded them with aplomb, if using rather few words. Blacklaws was more openly affable, a glib raconteur and a natural entertainer. She thought that it was no wonder that he was much in demand as a guide and mentor for clients from all over the civilized world.
"I want to shoot a really big lion," gushed Finn. She had longed to do this ever since Roxton had told her tales of his own early hunts in this wild land. His narrow escapes never failed to enchant and intrigue her. Finn was a huntress, teased about her enthusiasm by Marguerite. Indeed, when they had been trapped on that remote Brazilian plateau where they had met, she was often Roxton's companion in the chase. Marguerite had dubbed them Orion and Diana, or The Gun People. Their conversations about guns, animals, history, and similar subjects tended to bore her, causing her to seek coffee and company with Veronica Layton, now Mrs. Edward Malone.
Now she saw her chance to zing Finn and her own husband. Putting on a cheerful, interested face, she asked, "Mr. Hamilton, you have hunted here for some time. Where might we find trophy-sized lions? Ones with great black manes and teeth that can kill a buffalo?" She beamed all of her charm at him.
Hamilton was reserved and relatively sparse with words, for all his assured, self confident looks. He spoke as much with his body and facial expressions as he did with words. But he seemed genial, if not as forthcoming as Blacklaws. Private, but competent...
"We should have good luck with that on the Athi Plains as well as other places. This country has no shortage of lions, but the Athi is perhaps the best place for that. Maybe the Masai Mara area. Or, if you fancy stalking known man-eaters, down around Tsavo. For some obscure reason, many lions at Tsavo like to dine on two-legged prey. I expect that there's no accounting for taste."
"So, either the Athi Plains or Tsavo have big lions?"
"Yes, ma'am," agreed Hamilton. " Big ones, and plenty of them."
"Wonderful," said Marguerite. "Lets' go somewhere else! Now, I know where I don't want to be," She smiled to show that she was making a joke. Not that she really felt any differently than she presented herself.
Hamilton smiled, his eyes twinkling. "I'll try to keep you from being eaten, Lady Roxton. It reflects poorly on my image as a professional to have clients consumed by our intended prey."
Finn stuck out her tongue at Marguerite. "Stay in camp, then, 'fraidy cat. But I want to shoot a couple of lions. Johnny, will you hunt with me?" She turned to the male Roxton.
He nodded, amused by his wife's antics. "Certainly, Finn. I'll be happy to have you along when we hunt any game out here. Marguerite can stay in camp and read while we have all the fun."
"If you call being eaten by a lion 'fun', you can have it." retorted his mate. "I'll just watch some birds and make sure that tea is ready when you stalwarts of the chase come home."
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 17 2008 : 03:40:01 AM
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They continued to talk throughout lunch and Finn became aware that Hamilton was giving her a close examination when he thought that no one else was watching. Once, she caught him at it, and they exchanged frank looks. She had the feeling that he was offering a challenge or an invitation.
After a time, she excused herself to "powder her nose". Veronica asked to join her, and the ladies left, following directions from Blacklaws. The others placed dessert orders, not paying much attention to the restroom visitors. They were engrossed in discussing where to hunt cape buffalo, and arguing which of the Big Five was the most dangerous animal.
But in a moment, Hamilton said that they had had the right idea, and that he hadn't had time to visit sanitary faclities before coming from the garage. "Be back in a jiffy," he promised. "Just tell the waiter that I'll have a slice of that white cake with the chocolate icing, will you, Geoff? Coffee with it, please."
In the ladies room, Finn and Veronica discussed the white hunters, snickering as they covered their intimate assessments of each.
"Both of these guys think they're God's gift to women, " Finn speculated. "And they are good looking. I'd just bet that they score on a lot of chicks out here, including some of the old rich guy clients' wives and daughters."
Veronica agreed. "But I don't want any trouble. Most men will try their luck with us if they think they'll get anywhere. I'll ignore them unless it gets to be a real problem, then tell them where to go. If that doesn't work, we'll tell our own men. But I don't think there'll be a problem. We just need to let them know that we're taken. They seem like nice men, deep down. Unfortunately, deep down is how far you have to dig to find the niceness in a lot of men."
She saw Finn brushing her hair and playing with her lipstick, and told her that she was going back to the table. "Did you want dessert? I'm full. You and Marguerite are so lucky that you can eat what you want and not get fat. I have to watch my step, beyond a certain point, as you well know."
"So you say, " Finn answered. "I've never seen any sign that you were ever too heavy. You're a hot number, Vee. Ned is lucky to have you. See if they have vanilla ice cream. If not, that cake that Hamilton wants is okay. Coffee for me, too."
Veronica shook her head, watching herself in the mirror. She liked the gilded frame it reposed in. The ladies room here was a far cry from the canvas tent that it would be when they left Nairobi. "I should have known that you'd go for the ice cream. I'll see what I can do." She closed her tortoiseshell compact, dropped it into her purse, and went out, her high heels clicking on the marble floor, her pleated knee length white skirt rustling sensuously as she walked. Finn heard the faint swish of silk stockings as her legs brushed one another, and grinned into the mirror as she freshened her lipstick. They both looked a far cry from what they had when they had lived on that remote plateau where they had become best friends.
She sobered briefly as she remembered her life in New Amazonia, where she had sometimes not known where her next meal was coming from, or who she would find for companionship, or for how long. Her heart filled with emotion, and she had to use a tissue on her eyes. Finn thought how much she loved George Challenger, who had rescued her from a bad destiny, and given her hope, love, and someone to hear her darkest secrets and fears. And then tell her that she was wonderful, and that all would be well. And it had gone well. Now she was a published author, the wife of a famous man, and the mother of two gorgeous, loving children. Her soul was usually at peace, save for her deepest nightmares, and when those came, her man held her to him and made it all good again.
She lifted her dark blue dress, with the puffed short sleeves and cloth belt. It was the height of fashion for younger women in London, with a skirt that would have been deemed scandalous before the war. The war had changed society, she understood, ushering in a new era. It still seemed stuffy to her, as a child of the 21st Century, but it had to be better than it was before the Roaring '20's began.
Finn wore a lacy black garter (suspender) belt under her dress, and she adjusted her right stocking now, thinking of how glamorous she felt. Her loose skirt would blow up if a strong wind came, but she wasn't too concerned. It was a calm day, and she was proud of her long, shapely legs. In truth, she was a slight exhibitionist, as long as she didn't go overboard and cause gossip that might embarrass her husband. The dress had a matching short jacket and she shrugged, getting it draped just right. That done, she opened the door to return to the table.
It was at that point that she realized that Hamilton had stepped from the mens room and was eyeing her appreciatively, running his gaze from her hair to her ankles and back again. He smiled and started to say something.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 17 2008 : 4:05:43 PM
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"Mr. Hamilton, have I got something on my dress? You seem concerned about my appearance?" Finn was cool, but not angry. She felt flattered, but needed to let this man know that she wouldn't be intimidated, or enchanted by him. He probably found most women to be easy prey. Like my good buddy Johnny Roxton once did, she reflected.
"No, ma'am, " he replied. "There is nothing on your dress. I was just admiring it. You have excellent taste. But you probably look good in anything. Prof. Challenger is a fortunate man, to have you as his wife. I mean that as a compliment. I'm not being 'fresh'. I am simply impressed. Of course, the other ladies are also very lovely. That's good. I hate safaris where one woman is jealous of another to the point that it causes friction. But you all seem to get on very well."
"We do," she assured him. "And we all get along with our men. I love my husband, Mr. Hamilton. Some think that I married for money, but I have money of my own. Not all South Americans are impoverished." She flushed slightly, for she had heard some unsavory comments along those lines.
He raised his eyebrows. "You are South American? I noticed the American accent, but I thought that you and Mrs. Malone were from the USA or maybe Canada? Are you British now?"
Finn smiled. "As British as the flag. I took British citizenship when I married. It was easier for my husband and for our children. But I retain dual citizenship from Brazil, where I was raised. I'm just not a 'dago', so I don't look like the popular image of a Brazilian, I'm afraid. But many of us have Anglo ancestry. A whole group emigrated there from the Confederate states after the US Civil War, and many Germans and others came to live in Brazil."
She rattled off a couple of paragraphs in fluent Portugeuse. "Now, do you believe me? By the way, Mrs. Malone, Veronica, is from the same place. We just learned English with a US accent, because the only English speakers we knew were American, for the most part. Our fathers were American, too."
"And Mr. Malone? Is he also Brazilian?"
"No, Neddy is from New York. He's the real item, a Yankee man. Look, what I'm trying to say here is, I'd like for us to be friends. But I know the reputation of some white hunters. You fellows sometimes think that you're real studs. And you are a very hot guy. I admit that. I was flattered when you were running your eyes over me. If you hadn't thought I was cute, you probably wouldn't have bothered. I'm a litle vain, I know. I like being admired. Most women do. We just try not to admit it. I'm a brash chick."
"But I married for love, and George Challenger is not just my husband. He's a scientific icon. I admire him as well as adore him. Marguerite and Veronica tease me about worshipping him, and there may even be some truth to that. He's meant a lot to me, in several ways. You and I can be friends, and I hope that we will. You may notice that John Roxton and I are very close. Real buddies, on and off the hunt. But his wife is one of my two best friends, and he's more a brother or favorite uncle than anything more. Don't read too much into any teasing that we do. George is the only man whose bed I warm, and that isn't going to change, even for a really handsome white hunter. I hope that I haven't overstepped, but I thought that you and I should know where we're coming from before you feel tempted to do more than look at me. Looking is fine, if no one notices. More isn't going to happen. Please excuse me if I misinterpreted your intentions. I get a lot of attention from men who think I'm too young for my husband. I'm not. I grew up fast, and George is my idol. Now, I guess we'd better go see if dessert is there."
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 17 2008 : 4:17:20 PM
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"That was quite a speech, Mrs. Challenger," Hamilton conceded. "But looking was all that I intended. Actually, I hadn't intended to stare, and I hope that I didn't. I was just automatically drawn to admire something so lovely as you are."
"For the record, I am officially off the market," he continued. "I am engaged to a local girl, Diana Hardy. You'll meet her if we swing by her father's farm. We probably will, because that's one of the best places that I know for Lesser Kudu and bushbuck, and Angus Hardy is an old friend of mine. I have no intention of cheating on his daughter."
"As for being friends, I hope so. I'd like that, and I want to be friends with your husband, too. I know his reputation. He is indeed an impressive man, who will certainly go down in history as a great inventor. May I call you by your first name, as we are going to be seeing a lot of one another for the next couple of months? I promise that I won't overstep our acquaintance."
He smiled and Finn felt a warm flush suffuse her. There was something to the legend of men like this affecting women. He was not only in a glamorous business, and very good looking; she had seen the initials after his name. A war hero. Quite a formidable combination, especially with that smile...
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 17 2008 : 5:11:05 PM
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"Call me Finn, then, Stuart. My real name is Nicole, but my maiden name was Finnegan, and Finn is my nickname. Only my really close friends usually even know that I'm Nicole. When my husband calls me that, I know that it usually means that I'm in trouble or that he has something big to discuss. So, I'm Finn to my friends. I hope that you'll stay one, even after this safari. I think that I'm going to like Africa. We'll probably be back, if the children aren't too big an issue. When they're older, I want to bring them here."
"You have children. Many?"
"Two. A boy and a girl. Arthur and Caroline. All three of us women have two kids apiece, and all are one boy and one girl.. Coincidence, I guess. We left them with our nannies and the Roxtons' nannies in our London townhome. Our butler, Thomas, is in charge. He's very competent, and he's good with children,too.
"The Malones don't have nannies. They are visiting from Brazil, where they still live. Veronica and Ned raise their kids on their own. It's a source of pride to them. They aren't sure that we Limeys have the right ideas with our nannies and butlers and valets. But Marguerite and I make a point to be with the kids a lot, more than most well-to-do mothers do. I love many things, but my husband and my children are first in my heart. I even love them more than I do my guns and my bincoculars and my fishing stuff." She grinned.
"But the really amazing thing is that Marguerite loves her offspring more than she does jewels. I never thought that I'd see the day. Oh, look: our cake is here, and Veronica even had them send out some ice cream. Ice cream is my secret passion. My husband knows, but he tolerates that one rival for my love."
Hamilton laughed. "I think I'm going to enjoy knowing you, Finn. You and Lady Roxton are quite funny at times. I like that."
"Oh, Marguerite is funny, all right. But you have to watch her when she's mad. It used to be that she didn't want to wear a knife on her gunbelt, but we didn't worry about it. She could always slice things with a few cutting remarks. She's nicer in her old age, though. You'll like her. We all do. She's just an acquired taste."
With Hamilton chuckling about that, they resumed their seats at the table, and Finn looked gleefully at the ice cream, for which she thanked Veronica.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 18 2008 : 02:46:30 AM
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They shopped that afternoon, having an Indian tailor take measurements for safari clothing and boots. As they browsed shops along the central business district and bought souvenirs and gifts to ship to their children, another inconspicious Indian followed them.
He noted the license plates of the hunting cars and jotted down notes about all of the group. A skilled artist, he made careful sketches of their faces. He then took these notes to an Arab in a green turban who paid him fifty shillings and told him to continue to follow the visitors, if he wanted more money.
The Arab sat in his store and mulled over the notes. One name stood out: Marguerite. Lady Roxton. Then, he remembered. Yes! Marguerite Smith was the name of an English girl who had been sold to the Sultan of Ammarah, whom he had once served, before making enough money to move to East Africa and open his own business.
This slave girl had escaped with the help of a German arms merchant. (See, "A Prisoner of the Sultan, or How Marguerite Learned to Dance" in Fiction on THIS board.) She had been one of the Sultan's prized slaves, and was in fact his best dancer, one whom he commanded to perform when he had guests whom he wished to impress. She had been one of his favored sleeping girls, too. If only he had remembered to chain her by the ankle to the ring at the foot of his bed on that night when she had disappeared...
The girl had fled and others had to be given up when US and British warships had appeared in the harbor of the capital city. President Theodore Roosevelt, for this had been during his administration before World War I, had ordered the admiral commanding the American flotilla to begin bombarding the palace and other key buildings and to land his Marines. The Sultan's only option had been to release his slave girls, an action that would have irreversibly shamed him before other Arab potentates. War had been averted only by diplomats negotiating an arrangement whereby the Sultan would quietly deliver all of his English-speaking girls to the Royal Navy flagship under cover of darkness, when the fewest of his subjects would see. Girls of other nationalities would be retained. Hardly fair, but pragmatic...
The Sultan had declared for Germany during the Great War, and British troops had invaded his kingdom. He was killed in the fighting. After the war, his eldest son became Sultan, and he had never forgotten the shame that had befallen his father because of that damned English slave, Marguerite! He had offered large sums to whoever could deliver her into his hands, but she had never been found. Indeed, the reward was mainly a means of salving the new Sultan's ire and enhancing his image in the Middle East. The girl was known to have been returned to Britain, and he had small hope of ever finding her. In time, most had forgotten the issue. But now, if this Lady Roxton was who Nidal al Khalid thought she was, that vast reward might be his!
He had seen the girl dance on several occasions when he had been the old Sultan's guest. Lady Roxton had aged, was now in her mid or late 30's, although she had retained most of her looks. But Khalid was almost certain that this was the very girl whom he had seen writhing on the sultan's dance floor and serving him dates, figs, and grapes with fruit juices. And she had looked back at him, sensing that she somehow knew him, although not sure why.
Khalid composed a coded telegram to the new Sultan, with whom he had continued to do business. He wanted to know whether the reward was still offered, and if so, how much. He felt sure that fortune might smile upon him. If it did not smile upon the English harlot who had presumed to marry an earl, so be it. The girl had clearly gotten above herself. It was merely fair that she be returned to the son of her master, especially if her return enriched Nidal al Khalid. Truly, there was justice in the world, after all!
He called for his servant to bring tea, and smiled. This had been an eventful day. Perhaps, tomorrow would be better.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 19 2008 : 09:01:30 AM
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Two days later, their equipment all ready, the explorers loaded the cars and met their personal "boys" and gun bearers.
The Roxtons went through the same process as the others, with Geoff Blacklaws officiating. He introduced Juma, the personal boy, and Metheke and Jomo, their gunbearers. The Africans grinned broadly and said, "Jambo, Bwana. Jambo, Mem'Sahib." The headboy, Ahmed, had been with Blacklaws for ten years, and knew how to run the camp staff. Others had been with the same basic crew for a year or more, save for Juma, who was a last minute replacement for another African who had gone missing. "Probably drank too much native beer, and is passed out in some unsavory woman's place of business in a time-honored profession," muttered Blacklaws, who had hired Juma the previous day. He had fortunately applied, with good references, just as Blacklaws was giving up on the other boy.
The personal boys were dressed like African staff at the hotel, in long white gowns and red fez caps with matching cummerbund style sashes at their waists. The gunbearers wore cut-off trousers and shirts with short sleeves. They were barefoot,as they had lived all their lives. The personal boys tended to wear sandals.
The other hunter, Stuart Hamilton, went through the same procedure with his clients. Blacklaws would guide the Roxtons and the Malones, with Hamilton seeing to the Challengers. Although they were in seperate hunters' care, the group would remain together, camping in the same places. By day, the hunters would take out their charges to hunt in different areas, to minimize crowding or having clients quarrel over who got to shoot a particularly nice trophy animal. It would also avoid having too many people in one place for quietness, essential in stalking alert game.
They got underway by ten, and paused to eat by the road a little after noon. It was just after two in the afternoon that Blacklaws and Hamilton pulled over and called a group meeting.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 19 2008 : 10:06:09 AM
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"Time to be sure that the guns are sighted-in properly, and to be sure that you folks don't have any problems with the light here. That sometimes makes people from abroad shoot badly at first." Hamilton used this diplomatic excuse for bad marksmanship. The light was different from that in Britain, but some of the clients who used that as an excuse simply had never learned basic marksmanship. Too often, some rich ninnie decided to go on safari without having ever shot anything larger than a hare, if that.
The professionals understandably wanted to be sure what they were dealing with before letting anyone shoot at live animals, especially dangerous ones.
They set up a table and laid out the rifles and everyone fired a few shots at such marks as a blazed tree, a slice hacked off the trunk with the local version of a machete, called a panga. This was at about 100 yards. Shooters sat at the table,resting their rifles on a thick sweater, and squeezed off a few shots from each of their weapons. The shotguns were not meant for precise marksmanship, and were excluded, being intended for pointing and swinging more than exact aiming. But Hamilton assured them that they would have marvelous wingshooting on a variety of birds.
"Tomorrow, we'll shoot sand grouse and francolin. The boys will cook them for supper. I think you'll be impressed. Have you done much wingshooting, Lady Roxton? Pheasant and grouse maybe?"
Marguerite replied that she had done, "some". "How much ammunition do I have to waste to satisfy the Great White Hunter that I can hit the back end of a bull, or whatever?"
"Marguerite..." warned Roxton, and she was nicer about firing until Blacklaws was satisfied that she knew how to shoot and that the sights had not been knocked out of alignment in transit.
When everyone had finished, Hamilton commented that he had seldom seen six people who shot so well. Veronica had a rifle and had been coached in England in its use. She had also brought a good bow and three dozen hunting arrows.
"I'll shoot some game with the rifle, " she said, "but I like to fall back on the familiar, too." She set up a target and impressed everyone with her accuracy and speed with the bow. The gunbearers marvelled, having never seen a European use archery tackle.
In the late afternoon, they spied a herd of Thomson's gazelle, and pulled over. Blacklaws asked who would like to shoot dinner.
"We need about four of these little antelope, so most of you will get a shot, if you like." He explained that the Thomson's seldom went much over 50 pounds, not all of which was good meat. The clients and the hunters would need one, the personal boys another, and two more for the camp staff.
"Let the ladies have a go," suggested Roxton.
"Ned or George can go, too. I'll wait and shoot something larger tomorrow. I've done a lot of hunting in my life, already."
Marguerite took her .275 Rigby and Finn her new rifle of the same type. She had left her beloved Mannlicher-Schoenauer and Winchester .44 at home, wanting something flatter shooting for the African plains. She liked the light recoil and good killing power of the .275, which was basically the 7mm Mauser cartridge, loaded in England with Rigby's patented bullets. Ned Malone also came, with a custom American rifle in .30/06, built on a M-1903 Springfield action. Veronica declined to shoot, so Challenger took his .275, selected to share the same ammunition with his wife's and the Roxtons' light rifles.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 20 2008 : 11:16:04 AM
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They crept up on the herd of maybe 50 animals, and Hamilton had Challenger shoot first, with his wife next.
This went splendidly, with two "buck" down in two shots, and Marguerite swung her Rigby like a shotgun, dropping a third as the antelope bolted.
"Someone pop another!," called Blacklaws, ready to shoot if a client failed to. They needed the meat to stretch their supplies and to keep the safari boys happy. One reason why they signed on was to eat far better than they would in their villages, and meat was scarce in the average native's diet. Without it on safari, they could easily grow unhappy, and become surly and inefficient.
Finn had foreseen the need, and had already cycled the bolt of her rifle. She swung, followed through even better than Marguerite had, and put a 140 grain bullet through the neck of a fleeing "Tommy". It dropped like a lead balloon, dead when it hit the ground.
The boys came forward to collect the animals, one slicing the throats, in the "hallal" stroke that made the meat acceptable for Muslims, of whom they had a number in camp.
"Actually," explained Blacklaws quietly, "The bullets generally kill. But they make a production of cutting the throats as a symbolic gesture. Lip service to their religion, I expect. But you''ll see that, even when you know the beast to be stone dead. Just don't say anything. We'll all help them pretend, and everyone will eat well."
"What if we shoot a warthog or a bush pig?", queried Challenger. "Will they eat pork?"
"Officially, no," replied Hamilton. "But if no other meat is available, some of them will conveniently forget to observe religious restrictions. We try to shoot other game, but we can have the pork and shoot them something else. They don't care too much what, as long as they get plenty of meat. By the way, when we shoot really large animals, where there is far more meat than we can use, we'll make biltong from some. Dried meat. Quite tasty, and it keeps well. But what we don't use, the local natives will swarm over. What hunting safaris give them is most of what meat tribesmen get each year. If we shoot them buffalo or elephant, they'll happily tell us where to find good examples."
"They don't hunt on their own?", Finn wanted to know. Hamilton thought that she looked very trim and sexy in a khaki shirt and jodhpur trousers like she had seen Marguerite wear on the Plateau. Her sun helmet only added to her femininity. He wondered whether she could use the Smith & Wesson .38 Special revolver in the holster on her belt. He had, of course, never seen her in the black shorts and cropped top that she had worn in Amazonia. That would be scandalous in polite society in this time. Veronica also wore "decent" attire, not her loincloth and halter top of years past.
Blacklaws answered. "Most of these tribes are pastoral: farmers, with chickens and the like. They keep cattle, but seldom slaughter them. The Wakamba and a few others do hunt, often poach, these days.
They're very artful with their poisoned arrows. What the Masai live on, I won't say, until I know you better. Perhaps the ladies might not like to know, even then." He grinned, thinking of the effect that this knowledge had on most white people.
Finn walked over to a dead Thomson's gazelle and held the head up. She stroked the fur, looking at the curved, ringed horns, and felt sadness as well as pride in her shooting.
"The best clients are those who experience sorrow when they shoot something, I think." Hamilton had followed her over, trailed by her husband. "Don't feel bad, though. All of these animals die, most more nastily than by a bullet. If a lion or a leopard doesn't get them, Mother Nature sends rinderpest or some other disease. Nothing gets out of life alive, including humans. You shoot well. You killed cleanly, and quickly, as merciful a death as a wild animal ever gets. Don't feel too badly. But I'm glad to see that sensitivity. The hunters who don't show it are usually not pleasant people."
Challenger set his rifle on a log and studied the Tommy. He was fascinated by it, by the celebration of life that they had encountered. He liked the black streak along the sides of the animal, and the long neck and graceful horns.
"I want to mount one of these full size, for Arthur's room," he said. "I want the lad to grow up knowing about animals and where they fit into the overall scheme of things."
His wife took his hand and smiled. "We'll see about putting one in his room, Genius," she said. "You may have to settle for the den, with the other game mounts. Little boys may think it's sad to have one mounted near their beds. Give him some time: he's still very young."
Challenger kissed her hand as he rose. "Oh, very well. But I want several of these smaller antelope mounted for the lab, as well as in the den."
She nodded, handed him his rifle, and stood next to him, leaning into him, with him looking down into her eyes. Both smiled, and he leaned over and kissed her. "I'm happy, Darling. This is a whole new world. I can hardly wait to set out traps for small vermin and see if they yield new species for science."
"I want to see the night sky," she added. "The Milky Way must look tremendous out here."
"It does," said John Roxton, who had walked up. "It gives one a sense of where one stands in the overall scheme of Creation. Somewhere between the turtles and the stars."
"You're closer to the turtles, if you don't congratulate me on that wonderful running shot that I made, " challenged his wife.
He did, and kissed her, to the applause of the others.
Blacklaws and Hamilton looked at one another and smiled. "I think we've got a good lot on this trip, chum," said Blacklaws. "I like a safari that stays happy, and these people haven't quarrelled yet. Maybe our luck will hold."
The headboy came up and pointed to the meat from the kills, ready to be loaded into the trucks.
"Nyama, Bwana, Nyama m'zuri sana," he said, for it was indeed very good meat. He was happy, too.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 21 2008 : 09:02:08 AM
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That evening, around a crackling fire of mopane wood, the group gathered for drinks as dinner was readied.
Roxton and Hamilton renewed their acquaintance from the Great War, recalling battles in which they had fought, and Roxton had to tell the others how he had won his Victoria Cross: by wiping out three German machine gun crews and turning one of their Maxim guns on attacking enemy troops, although wounded, himself. After his surviving men fought their way to his side and held the line in the face of heavy German assaults, Roxton refused evacuation, and commanded until he passed out from shock and loss of blood. Throughout, he had been exposed to heavy enemy fire and had lost three-quarters of his rifle company. But he had held a crucial portion of the British lines and denied the Germans the opportunity to breach the defenses and swarm into lightly defended rear areas.
Field Marshal Lord Haig, on presenting the coveted award noted, "This officer's extreme gallantry and devotion beyond the call of duty almost single-handedly enabled His Majesty's forces to prevail in one of the most bitterly contested encounters of this war. He was continually under the heaviest of fire, yet achieved bold deeds against the greatest of odds, and unquestionably saved countless Allied lives by holding his position in the face of daunting opposition."
Marguerite noticed the stress on his face as Roxton recounted the events of that horrible day, and she reached over and took his hand and squeezed it. He looked back at her and managed a wan smile.
Hamilton recounted his own tales of derring-do, and told how he had met Roxton in hospital as they recovered from wounds received during the commission of their valiant deeds. They had later served in staff positions in the same unit, and had gotten to know one another fairly well.
"Lets' change the subject," suggested Blacklaws. "I see that this is causing our heroes to have unpleasant memories. Finn, tell us how you shot that running Tommy through the neck. Honestly, are you a trick shot, or was that happy coincidence?"
Finn looked up from her gin and tonic and grinned impishly. "I'd like to say that I can do that all the time," she admitted. "But what happened was that I led the gazelle like I was shooting a Mannlicher 6.5mm that I've used a lot. Rigby's high velocity 140 grain .275 bullet is faster , and it hit the neck, when I was expecting to hit the lungs. Also, the Tommy jumped just as I fired. But it was stll a good shot, huh?" She smiled, remembering the way that the little antelope had folded on receiving her bullet. She knew that it had looked spectacular, and the memory of that clean kill on a running antelope would stay with her for the rest of her life.
"What am I, chopped meat?" demanded Marguerite. "My bullet hit just as I intended. Don't I get praise, too?" She managed to look huffy and put upon, denied her rightful place in the sun.
Veronica laughed. "It's all because Finny is blonde and you aren't, Marguerite!" And she howled with laughter, as did the others. They had all heard Marguerite's disparaging remarks about blondes, and delighted in seeing her squirm at Veronica's revenge.
"Seriously, Marguerite, I saw that shot, and it was splendid," said Blacklaws. "I was in fact very impressed. Would have said so, but your husband made that quite profound remark about the turtles and the stars, and I was sort of sidetracked by your response. Here, let me pour you another Scotch. You certainly earned a drink with that shot!" And he reached for the bottle of Dewar's.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 21 2008 : 09:47:26 AM
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Ahmed motioned to Blacklaws that dinner was ready, and the boys brought venison chops and steaks with vegetables purchased in Nairobi. Red wine was served, a marvelous vintage of Chateau Latour. Everyone was very impressed with the cuisine, well presented, especially under the circumstances. Even the china and the tableware were quality items, as fine as one would see in a good London restaurant or private home.
Roxton swirled wine in his glass and held it so that light from the campfire glowed through the deep garnet color. He listened to the others and remembered the day and tasted the wine, and he felt more content than he had in some weeks.
Hamilton looked at the women as they chatted. The ladies had all changed for dinner, and instead of the jodhpur trousers and tall boots of the day, wore skirts. Finn's khaki shirt had been exchanged for a soft cornflower blue blouse that tightened nicely over her breasts as she straightened, stretching tired muscles. She knew that Hamilton had noticed, but pretended not to care. She was often aware of his eyes on her, and wrote it off as simple male attraction. Biology in action. But he didn't seem to be paying that much attention to the other women, and this both bothered her and made her a bit smug that she was the one who drew his eye.
She listened as her husband outlined his plans for the morrow, about wanting to study some animals through binoculars before setting out traps for small mammals that might be new to science.
"We can do that, Professor," acknowledged Blacklaws. "The rest of us can scout for leopard along a riverbed not far off while you and Mrs. Challenger do that, and we'll meet for lunch. Then, in the afternoon, we'll shoot birds over a waterhole. I think we can promise you some fast and fancy shotgunning. Ever tried to hit a sand grouse when a flock of them flash past?"
"No, but I daresay that I am more intrigued with those francolin partridge that you mentioned earlier. Any hope of having a go at them? More meat per bird, and I want to have a close look at some. Lovely birds."
Blacklaws nodded. "By tomorrow, we'll be in good country for them. You will find very sporting shooting, and the francolin is cursed by having an abundance of white meat. Just the thing for the table."
"Good," said Ned Malone. "I brought a Winchester 12 gauge pump gun that I like on grouse and ducks, and I want to see how it does on African birds."
Hamilton said that he had seen some of these American shotguns. "Load it with heavy buckshot, and it makes a dandy backup gun for going after wounded leopard in thick cover, too. But lets' hope that no one wounds a leopard. That's the stuff of darkest nightmares."
Finn was sure that he knew what he meant, but the comment reminded her of her own darkest nightmares, and there wasn't a lot of comparison. Her whole world had been a continuing nightmare, for the most part. She mentally whispered a prayer of thanksgiving for George Challenger having delivered her from that awful realm into her present state of bliss.
Talk turned to their families, and the ladies got out photos of their children and showed them around as the fathers beamed with pride. "Roxton here isn't perfect," mentioned Marguerite, "but he does breed well. I wasn't awfully sure that I wanted children, but for him, I tried. I don't think I did too badly."
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 21 2008 : 9:29:07 PM
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"Mother of the Year", laughed Roxton, and pulled her long black hair.
Marguerite yelped. "Well, if one has to create little monsters, ours are among the best. Naturally. I did bear them." She smirked at her immodest claim.
She handed round an alblum of the children. "The next Earl of Avebury there is John George Edward Roxton. Yes, the little varlet is named after my husband and these other men here swilling your wine, Geoff." She winked at Blacklaws, who grinned back and offered the bottle of Chateau Latour to any whose glasses were needful.
"The little girl, who I must say will someday be a ravishing beauty like her mother, is Emily Nicole Roxton. Her middle name honors our beloved Finnykins here, whose real first name is Nicole." She nodded at Finn, who rose and curtsied, to general laughter.
"I'd have added Veronica's name, too, but we may have another daughter for that, and the name just didn't fit with Emily. Sorry, Vee." She had taken to occasionally calling their former Treehouse hostess, "Vee", as Finn did, although she still generally disapproved of the nickname. "That's it for now. I'm 37, and rather hopeful that Muscles here will spare me another pregnancy, now that we know what causes it." She squeezed Roxton's arm, and smiled at him.
He looked fondly back at her, set his glass on the table, and took her hand. The love that flowed between them was almost tangible, and the others sat impressed with the intensity of this vital human emotion, silently expressed by this noble couple.
"This is going to be a tough act to follow," said Ned. But he showed photos of Veronica Elizabeth Malone and her little brother, Andrew George Malone. Both had his and their mother's fair hair, and looked healthy, happy, and mischievous.
Everyone "oohed" and "awweed" over them and Ned mentioned that he was looking foward to teaching Andrew to shoot and fish. "And to play baseball," he added. Two things that typified Ned Malone as the American that he so proudly was were his love of ice cream and his passion for baseball.
Finn went into her tent and returned with the Challenger photo alblum. It contained pictures of Arthur John George Challenger and his little sister, Caroline Elizabeth Challenger. (See also, "Thunderbolt Over Burma" in Fiction on THIS board for the adult adventures of these two.)
"Normally," quipped Challenger, "I ask Finn not to show pictures of our offspring to ordinary mortals. The radiance surrounding them blinds some people. They are, after all, my children, and surely destined for great things." He chuckled to show that he was teasing.
Finn blushed and handed around the alblum, anyway. "Forgive George," she pleaded. "He is just trying to save you from blindness. But I think this present exalted company can bear to look briefly at our little nippers." Finn was becoming English to a considerable degree, and this was sometimes reflected in her speech.
Blacklaws looked dutifully at the children, feeling like a politician who has to admire his voters' kids. They were all lovely, all three sets of them. But other peoples' children were just children. Being male, he had limited interest.
Then, he saw another photo that raised his eyebrows and accelerated his heart. "What is this, a black jaguar?" He showed the book to Finn, who nodded.
"Johnny and Marguerite shot it. The ones with spots were shot by me or the Genius." They had all grown used to her pet name for her brilliant husband. "We saw quite a few in Brazil. The trick was to see them first. They sometimes eat people. That hurts! But they are beautiful, and I promise you, I got quite a thrill from shooting them at close range. I knew a few Indians who took them on with heavy spears. Not Prof. Challenger's little babe: I always used a gun!"
There were other photos, although none of dinosaurs. One photo of a T-rex egg was diplomatically explained away as being from a large native bird. The expedition had decided not to reveal even half of what they had found. They had concealed their taking much of the immense treasure of Xochilenque from all but select collectors, to whom Marguerite fenced their loot. (See, "The Crystal Skull" on the old Orth board. This link is directly to a MATURE rated Fic: http://americanbty12.proboards62.com/index.cgi?board=fanfic&action=display&thread=279
In the distance, a lion roared, the first that they had heard on this trip. It was new to most of them, and the sound thrilled and terrified. "AhhhROAR! AAroughh! Gruff! Gruff! Gruff..."
Finn looked startled and asked Hamilton, "Should we call for our rifles?"
He shook his head. "That's a mile off, or close to it. The sound carries a long way on a still night. You'll get used to it. It's one of the sounds that typifies the African night. Another that will get to you at first is the insane giggle of hyenas on a kill. They sound like lunatics."
"I've long suspected that they vote Labour," joked Blacklaws. "It would account for that sound. Takes a loony to vote Labour, I think."
That led to a discussion of politics that soon bored the Malones, who excused themselves. Not being British, this held little interest for them. And Ned wanted to get Veronica in his arms and thank her for having the children whose photos they had shown. He was tired, but there was something invigorating about the African night, and he wanted to see if it affected his wife the same way.
"Good night, " wished Blacklaws. "If you hear something at the door of your tent around dawn, don't shoot. It will probably be your personal boy, with a pot of tea. That's called 'chai' in Swahili, by the way."
"If it growls instead of saying, 'Mimi lette chai, Bwana,' you may want to think about shooting, after all," added Hamilton. "But if it's the tea chap, hold your fire. It's very bad form to shoot the boys on safari." He winked at Veronica, who smiled back.
"We'll be careful, " promised Ned. "If anything growls in our tent by then, it'll probably just be my stomach, anyway."
"Oh, Neddy!" And his wife led him away before he could embarrass her any more. But she took his arm and kissed his cheek, for she did love him, and he was actually pretty funny...
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 22 2008 : 10:25:26 PM
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The boys cleared away the dinner dishes and brought fruit for dessert. With it came tea, although no one drank much, as it would soon be time to retire for the night. Hunters needed to be up early, and it was already nine o'clock.
Within the hour, everyone called it a night, and drifted off to their tents.
Finn felt Hamilton's eyes on her and glanced back, trailing her husband. He was looking thoughtfully at her, and when he saw that she had seen him, he nodded pleasantly. Then, he turned to Blacklaws and resumed a conversation. If he felt guilty, he didn't show it. Maybe he was just looking in her direction, and she was reading too much into it...
The Challengers went into their tent, having bade the Roxtons, in the next, good night. As they undressed, they talked about plans for the morrow, and talked about which animals they especially wanted to collect.
"I want to see one of those big crocodiles," Challenger offered. "They say that some exceed 20 feet. That must be an awesome reptile, not that we didn't see a few American crocs nearly that long on the Plateau."
They heard muffled feminine laughter coming from the next tent. and Roxton's deeper voice saying something. "Sounds like they're up late," quipped Challenger. "Probably discussing whether to buy a yacht when they get home. I say, Finn, I was joking, but if sales of my inventions continue to improve, we may really be able to buy one. Would you like that?"
She thought, pulling off her taupe skirt and folding it on a footlocker near her bed. "It'd take a lot of upkeep, and we'd need to hire a crew and learn to sail, ourselves. We could probably use the money better for something else."
"What else do we reasonably want?", he countered. "We already have about all that our hearts desire, or will. There would be enough money."
"I came from nothing, George. I'm scared to waste money. And we can build some more on our home. I want to stash what we have left of the gold and jewels from Xochilenque, in case of a rainy day. I'll think about the boat. We can see what one the size you want would cost. Maybe we could sail it around and do things like this, if we could leave it in some harbor. I want to do some deep sea fishing, and you can do some marine studies. If we write about our travels and make those movies that I want to do, maybe we could write off some of the yacht as a business expense. We could make the boat famous, as the travelling headquarters for our adventures. But what about Arthur and Caroline? I already miss them."
"A good point, " Challenger admitted. "We'd need to take the trips while school is out for the summer. We'll think more, and get some prices. But consider it. I think it might be fun, and we might be able to sell at a profit after a few years."
Finn agreed, and turned out the light, which had left them silhouetted to some degree, visible to those outside.
Challenger tied the tent flaps shut. "Not as cool this way, but more secure," he noted. "And nights here at this altitude can be cold." He got into bed, setting his flashlight and Colt .45 revolver near to hand.
Finn tried to sleep, but the handsome, calm, very masculine face of Stuart Hamilton, DSO, MC haunted her. She flushed and ran her hands down her body. She felt her nipples engorge, and she flexed her legs. She realized that she was breathing harder than normal. Then, an idea struck her.
She rolled out of bed and crept across the three feet separating her cot from her husband's. "Move over, Genius," she ordered, "I'm cold."
He let her slide in beside him and caressed her, discovering that she wore only bikini panties of the sort that she designed for Marguerite to sew, for the styles were not in current shops. They were much too daring for the society of the 1920's.
"Put something on," he suggested.
"I plan to," she snickered. "You. Feel up to some hanky-panky?"
He considered, loving the way that her hands sought his body and the things that she did to it. "Um, these tents aren't like wooden or stone walls. We should have to be quiet."
"I'm not a 'screamer'," she pointed out. "Unless maybe when you do to me what you do down there when I'm really horny." He couldn't see her face well in the dark, but knew with certainty that she was blushing. After six years of this girl in his bed, Challenger knew her inside and out. Not that she didn't have new twists from time to time...
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 22 2008 : 11:07:44 PM
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She handed him something soft that felt like satin in the dark. "Here, Muscles, put my knickers under your pillow, where we can find them when that guy comes at the crack of dawn, with tea."
"Finn, do you realize that you just referred to your brief nether garment as knickers? What about panties? Are you becoming acclimitized to being British?" He chuckled, stroking her shoulder length blonde hair.
She snuggled next to him. "Yeah, I'm seriously working on that. Maybe I'll call them panties if I'm talking to Ned and Vee. For the rest of us, I'm the new Limey on the block, as of almost four years now. I may as well try to sound like it. Anyway, whatever I call them, they're off. You have my last bit of clothing in your hand. What are you gonna do about it, big boy?" She nibbled at the base of his ear, and Challenger tucked the 'knickers' beneath his pillow and addressed himself to his mate's lust.
After almost an hour, with both trying hard not to make more noise than necessary, they climaxed and lay in one another's arms.
"Umm, Genius. That hit the spot!" Finn giggled and arranged herself as she often did, with her back and legs against Challenger's front. She arched her hips back, into snug contact with his penis and rubbed it briefly, moving up and down, rocking her pelvis, half arousing him. But they knew one another well enough to know that she wanted merely to offer a parting tender gesture. They would soon sleep.
When she was sure that Challenger slumbered, Finn went to her cot and recovered her blanket, arranging it over them. She snuggled against her man again and sighed. I'm a happy broad, she mused. But I feel guilty that I let myself get in the mood for this by thinking about another guy. Oh, well: George got the benefit of my getting all wet inside. Wives have done worse.
But she still felt guilty as she drifted off to sleep.
Dawn came early, with someone scratching at the tent flaps.
"Bwana? Mem'Sahib? Mimi letti chai!"
Finn half woke, wishing that she could shoot the personal boy for coming so early. But their hunter had said that this was very bad form. She nudged Challenger in the ribs with her elbow, staggered out of bed and reached for her robe. At least, this infernal interruption came with tea. My god, she thought, I've become British. I'll tell Marguerite. It'll probably shock her...
She stubbed her toe in the dark, and uttered an obscene phrase in Portugeuse. Okay, she admitted, maybe I'm not fully British yet, after all.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 24 2008 : 03:20:02 AM
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At breakfast, they discussed the forthcoming day. Malone wanted to do some wingshooting, but was told that the birds would be much easier to hunt when they came to water in the afternoon.
"Come with me and shoot a zebra for lion bait," suggested Roxton. We'll drag it behind the car for awhile, so that lions can scent it and follow the trail. We'll let them feed on it and shoot any good trophy examples that show up."
"Just shows that it doesn't pay in the long run to accept welfare," deadpanned Marguerite. This drew some chuckles, even from Veronica, who thought the idea was disgusting, if a little exciting. Sort of like some of Ned's requests in bed...She colored at that thought.
"Can I come?", Finn wanted to know. "I want to film that. I want to make some nature and hunting movies. People back home would love to see that."
The hunters and Roxton agreed, and Challenger wanted to accompany his wife. Not only did he want to be sure that she was safe; he had developed a new film coating that should enhance resolution and retard degeneration of the film. He wanted to see the product in use, to determine the conditions under which it was employed. He also felt that he might be able to refine motion picture cameras, overall.
"I want to shoot a kudu, the big one with the long corkscrew horns," declared Lady Roxton. "Geoff, will you take me out for that? Or, can we do it on the way back from this other adventure?"
Blacklaws looked at her husband inquiringly.
"Dammit, I asked a question of you, not of my husband," Marguerite barked. "Am I incapable of functioning on my own? Must I have the Earl's approval for everything?"
"Well, ma'am," began Blacklaws, not wanting to get caught between the Roxtons, but wanting the husband's approval before he guided a wife separately...
"Marguerite, Geoff needs to keep things proper, and he means no harm. You know perfectly well that a husband has a say in such matters. Geoff, take her wherever she wants to go, if it'll make her happy. If she isn't happy, none of us will be happy."
"Boy, I know how that feels," muttered Malone. Veronica arched an eyebrow and decided to speak to him about that later. For now, she didn't want to add fuel to the growing fire.
"So, I can go hunt kudu without my mighty master, the Earl of Avebury?" Marguerite still had some mad left to use up.
Roxton nodded. "If you feel safe. I'll miss you, but if that's what you'd rather do..."
"Actually," explained Blacklaws, " although we may get lucky and kill a kudu in these hills or on the savannah, there's a much better locale for large ones about 40 miles on. We were planning to go by there tomorrow, before we call in on Angus Hardy and his family that evening. But we can go see what turns up. You can shoot today if you see a decent example, Marguerite, and you have others on your license if you spot a better trophy later."
"So, I can have my cake and eat it, too?"
Blacklaws laughed. "Yes, that fits, I suppose. And kudu are very good eating, too, come to that. But we may come up emptyhanded. This really isn't the right place to find many of them."
"That's why hunting is called hunting," retorted the brunette woman. "If you really can't find any, so be it. We'll have had fun looking. Is there a river where I can swim?"
Hamilton shook his head. "Afraid not. Not a lot of us ever swim here. Hippos, crocs, water cobras, and other hazards are too prevalent. Hippos look funny, but they kill more people in Africa every year than lions and elephants put together."
"What about warthogs?", asked Blacklaws. "I know for sure that there are usually some around this area. And if you mount them with the mouth open, it looks very imposing. Just the thing to start tongues wagging when your guests see them back home."
Marguerite considered. "All right. I'll shoot a piggy. Maybe I can make one into a bank. Has anyone done that?"
Challenger rolled his eyes. "Trust you to think of a new concept, Marguerite. Have some respect for the animals that you shoot. I've never been too keen on those fellows who make a wastebasket or an umbrella stand from rhino or elephant legs. But if you do a full mount, not just a head, a warthog is quite imposing. I want to put a full mount in our family museum at the estate in Kent."
Finn brightened. "Yeah! We can charge admission when we get enough animals on display there."
Challenger shook his head. "We shan't need to, Darling, and it violates our privacy, and lets the common folk see too much of our home. Some might come back and try to break in and take something. But the children and their friends will like it. As they grow older, it will help to educate them, also."
"I guess you're right," Finn agreed. "But I want to show some of the animals at places where I lecture and show movies. It will help to pack in audiences."
Challenger looked dubious, so she added. "If you want a yacht, Genius, that thing will eat money like rabbits eat carrots. And I want to feel that I can earn my own way, even if I am Mrs. You."
"If I get back before the rest of you heroes, I want a bath and for someone to wash my hair," Marguerite stated.
Blacklaws nodded. "No worries there. Your personal boy will do that.
Mrs. Malone, er, Veronica? What's your pleasure today?"
Veronica looked at Ned. "Let's go look at Finny make movies of lions smelling dead zebras. It sounds awful, but I bet it's exciting, and I want to see. I don't really want to do anything else special."
Ned nodded, and they had that issue settled.
Finn noticed that Challenger's cup was empty and rose. "Anyone else want more coffee?" she asked.
Blacklaws looked mildly shocked. "Mrs. Challenger, please sit back down. Juma! Lette caffe kwa Bwana Challenger! The boys will do that for you. You don't have to step and fetch things for yourselves. This is a high class safari operation. We'll see to your needs. After all, you wouldn't expect to go after coffee at home, would you?"
Marguerite and Roxton laughed. "Actually, she probably would. Finn has been spoiling George for years. She dotes on the man. Wait until you see her butter his bread. That's quite touching. She has it bad for our esteemed professsor."
Finn smirked. "That only seems strange to you because you don't have the Love Affair of the Centuries, Marguerite," she said triumphantly. And with that, she did butter a slice of toast and offer it to her man.
"Hmmm," said Hamilton. "Fancy that. I was rather hoping to have the love affair of all time, myself, with Diana. But she's never done that for me. Clearly, I shall have to ask Finn to train
my wife."
"You jolly well should," said Challenger enthusiastically. "I can tell you, a wife like this makes a man feel ten feet tall."
"Don't bump your head on the ceiling, George," admonished Marguerite with a smile.
Juma had almost reached the table when he stopped short and looked down, his black face going gray. The tray in his hands began shaking, and the noise caused the whites at the table to look his way. When they saw the direction of his gaze, they knew what had frightened him.
A large puff adder (Bitis arietans) lay within a foot of his feet. Any move on his part, and the deadly snake would strike. It coiled rapidly, reared back its head, and made a noise like a steam engine with a hole in it. Juma looked as if he was about to faint.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 25 2008 : 02:05:13 AM
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"Don't move, Juma!" said Blacklaws, unnecessarily. He looked concerned, his mind obviously racing.
Marguerite saw what was happening and felt frustrated that she was unarmed. Her rifle was 20 feet away, and unloaded. No one at the table had a gun. Did they? How long would it take to call for someone to come with one? And would a black bringing a gun know how to shoot it? Even the gunbearers just loaded and cleaned them. They didn't shoot them. One might well blow off Juma's foot instead of shooting the snake.
Then, Finn stood, slowly, trying not to create any vibration. Alone of the whites, she had worn her handgun to breakfast. Her gunbelt held her hunting knife, spare cartridges, and her Smith & Wesson Military & Police Model .38 revolver. Identical to the gun that she had captured from a slaver on the Plateau where she had once lived, it had replaced that one in field use. The original gun, like some of her other items, was used now only occasionally at home, for recreational shooting and as a momento of her days in Amazonia. She had bought a pair of the same model to serve in its stead, and she was good with them. She could hit the snake, probably in its head if it held still. It was only some ten feet from her to the snake.
Finn was a skilled markswoman, and could often group all six shots from her .38 into one ragged hole on a 25 yard bullseye target. She had the requesite talent to kill the snake. But what if it struck as she shot or just after, reacting to the bullet? It might still bite Juma or swing the other way and hit Blacklaws, who was sitting on that side of the table.
She knew the puff adder well, having been "drilled" on tropical African reptiles by Challenger and Roxton long before the trip. And she had become an amateur naturalist of some marque. She knew from experience that dying snakes could still bite, if only through muscle contraction. Many people had been seriously envenomated when handling one.
Finn drew her .38, and looked inquiringly at Blacklaws and at Hamilton. The former stood and moved behind the puff adder. He waved his camp chair at it, and it instantly flicked back and struck the chair leg. "Now, Finn, piga! I mean shoot!"
The sound of the shot came on the heel of his words, and she ran around the table and placed a second shot squarely in the brain of the squirming intruder, which had been knocked away from Juma's foot by the impact of the 158 grain lead bullet.
Roxton sprang up and went behind his wife's chair and took Juma by the sleeve and pulled him away from the struggling, dead snake.
"Watch that you don't spill the coffee, there, Juma, eh? There's a good fellow. I want a cup of that, myself. Marguerite, get up and let Juma have your chair for a moment, please. He looks a trifle green around the gills."
"My chair?" the former heiress exclaimed. "Why can't he have your bloody chair?" But, seeing the look on her man's face, she stood and offered the chair as Roxton took the tray and set it on the table. Then, he helped the shaking Kikuyu boy to sit.
A Wakamba tracker came running up. He saw what had happened, and drew his native sword, in the Masai style. He walked over and beheaded the snake.
Blacklaws spoke to him in Swahili. "Take that thing away. And have someone lead Juma away so that Mem'Sahib Roxton can have her chair back. We'll be sure first that he wasn't bitten."
And he came around the table with the Challengers and all studied Juma's feet and lower legs to be sure that he was unharmed. Roxton spoke to him gently in Swahili, which he had acquired to some degree before the war, and which he had brushed up on before this trip.
Finn's sympathetic feminine voice helped even more to calm the frightened African, and he looked gratefully at her. Then, he put his hands together and bowed deeply to her and said something too rapidly for Roxton to follow.
Marguerite translated. "He thanks you for his life. He says that this snake kills by venom that causes great pain and almost always causes death if it injects a full bite. He lives by your hand, and he will be eternally grateful. He says that you are brave for a woman, and a skilled shooter. He thanks Ngai, that means God to him, for your kindness. He is sorry to have caused a stir. Please forgive him not having brought out the coffee and served without a fuss like this. He hopes that Bwana Blacklaws and Bwana Hamilton will forgive him for having brought this trouble upon us."
"Good heavens, Marguerite, I had no idea that you spoke Swahili," said Blacklaws. "Why didn't you say so?"
"You didn't ask. I'm not one to tell my secrets, especially when it might seem like bragging. But I speak several languages, including English. And, in English, I fancy some more coffee. Is it still hot, do you suppose?"
"We'll soon see. If you'll take your husband's chair I'll pour you a cup, and we'll get this camp back to normal. Juma, go lie down for awhile. Let me know when you feel ready to get back to work. You've had a rough time."
"Asante sana, Bwana," said Juma. (Thanks very much, Bwana.) And he let the cook lead him away, a concerned look on his face.
Finn had reloaded, and taken her seat as soon as she saw that Juma was calming down. Then, she saw the coffeepot and poured Challenger a cup.
"Thanks awfully, Darling," he said. "I did, in fact want another cup."
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 25 2008 : 03:03:53 AM
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"I can't believe you Limeys,"said Ned Malone. He was still excited by what he had just seen. "George, you're just sitting there letting Finn pour you a cup like nothing had happened."
Challenger chuckled. "Finn has been taking excellent care of me for some time, Ned. If I need coffee, she won't let a little thing like a dangerous snake get in her way."
"Finn," said Hamilton. "I definitely want you to meet my fiancee, Diana. Teach her how to tend to me like you do to George, and I'll do my best to see that you find and shoot the lion of your dreams." He smiled, but she thought that he might be serious.
"I must say," interjected Blacklaws, "I wondered if that revolver was more than an affectation. Most people out here don't wear one, not regularly. Looks as if one has seen too many American cowboy movies. Mind you, I keep one handy in the tent at night. Thankfully, I haven't had occasion to use it yet. But you were really good and quick. Good thing that you were wearing that gun."
Finn blushed slightly under this praise. "I aim to please, " she punned. "And that snake had it coming. He got in the way of my getting the Genius his coffee." She leaned over and kissed Challenger's cheek.
They began discussing snakes, and Veronica looked under the table, just to be sure that only one would interrupt them this morning.
Hamilton opened the silver serving plate and used his fork to spear another venison chop, then offered those and scrambled eggs all around. Challenger and Malone accepted. Marguerite smiled at Roxton, who poured her another cup of coffee.
When they had eaten, they loaded the items that they would need into the safari trucks, and Hamilton paused to study Finn Challenger.
She looked lovely, in a light blue short- sleeved shirt and tailored shorts. She wore tan desert boots, what the Boers called, "veldtschoen", with tall tan socks. The shorts were narrower and more snugly fitted in the rear than were most shorts in this day, and it was clear to any man who looked that Mrs. Challenger had a shapely rear end as well as the legs to go nicely with it. The shorts were longer than what she had worn on the Plateau where she had met her friends, but they still showed more leg than most respectable women did. She appeared unconcerned, and her friends seemed not to notice. In fact, she was respectable, if daring.
The other ladies wore knee length skirts, with a white blouse for Veronica and a lavendar one for Marguerite. The men were in khaki trousers and blue shirts. Roxton wore much what he had in South America, save that his crocodile hide vest had been replaced by a new khaki one, with loops for cartridges and pockets for small items like his compass.
And all of the clients wore pistols now. A bit American Frontier, thought the hunter, but after that snake this morning, he wasn't going to tease them.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 25 2008 : 04:56:34 AM
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Hamid al Kazim looked at the telegram that he had decoded. As personal secretary to the Sultan of Amarrah, he had the key to the Sultan's private code. Only the Sultan and he knew how to decipher such encrypted messages. And this one held news that his employer and ruler would welcome. Kazim was pleased to be the messenger.
He tapped politely at the door of the Sultan's sitting room, where his ruler was, he knew, reclining on soft pillows as he was entertained by two of his favorite girls from the harem. The Sultan had the allowable four wives, and actually cared deeply for two of them, but liked to pass time in the company of his slaves, also.
His mid-morning dalliance with them was among his favorite practices when Royal duties allowed. He claimed that it prepared him for a more pleasant lunch, and eased his cares.
"Enter," bade the monarch of Amarrah, a nation on the Gulf of Arabia.
Kazim came in, genuflecting to show his appreciation of his status before his head of state. He did this with some degree of casualness, for he was an old and trusted servant. But the basic attitude needed to be demonstrated...
"Yes?," inquired the Sultan. "Kazim, sit and speak. Jasmine, see that my secretary has some of those grapes."
"Yes, master, " purred the beautiful Chinese girl. She wore harem garb with diaphanous pants, a gold-trimmed red vest, and no bra. One of her ankles was chained to an iron ring in the marble floor, to insure that she did not depart if the Sultan had to leave the room. She had a platter of melons, grapes, and other good things to eat before her, and had been feeding grapes to the Sultan.
The other girl, Sheila, had been allowed to retain her British name as a slave name. She had been reading aloud from a book of Omar Khayyam's poetry. She was costumed as Jasmine, except that her pants and vest were blue instead of red. Her perfume enchanted the senses. She lowered her eyes and knelt as Kazim looked upon her with appreciation. She had blonde hair, worn as her master desired this day, in a ponytail. She had been kidnapped two years before in Greece, where she had been part of a tour group. Jasmine was one of nine Chinese girls sold to the Sultan by a war lord in her own land. Both served with alacrity, knowing that they would be disciplined if they were found to be insolent, ungraceful, or otherwise unpleasing.
Kazim said, "Great One, Ruler of our Paradise Upon Earth, I have private news that will much please your imperial self." He whispered into his master's ear.
Sultan Abdullah Ibn Ahmed bin Hakim al Rashid heard, and his eyes widened. He struck the gong at his side. "Guards!", he summoned.
Jasmine and Sheila looked at one another, frightened. "Master?, " pleaded Sheila, who was a favorite girl, "Have we displeased you? I beg you, let us atone, and tell us how we may satisfy you!"
Rashid didn't respond to her, but waited until two men in tan uniforms and turbans in the distinctive checkered pattern of aqua and white, Amarrah's national colors, came to his side. They wore brown boots, the color of the belts and holsters at their waists. Their pistols were Lugers, and a jambiyah dagger was thrust into the belt of each. One carried a short slave whip, in case a girl needed to be punished.
"Handcuff these slaves and take them into the next room," he commanded. "Shackle them to the ring on the far side, that they may not approach the door to this room. I do not wish to have them eavesdrop. Shut the connecting door, too, of course. Then, return to your posts."
One guard motioned to Sheila to rise, and took out his cuffs. She obediently placed her hands behind her back and turned gracefully. She heard the other guard snapping bracelets on Jasmine's wrists, and then the ring to her ankle was unlocked and she was taken out, bending forward, led by the hair.
When the guards were done and they had the room to themselves, the Sultan poured coffee for Kazim and demanded, "Tell me all. You have my undivided attention."
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - May 25 2008 : 05:50:44 AM
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"Highness, Radiance of the Sun, I hardly know where to begin. But you well recall that English girl, Marguerite, whose escape so angered your beloved father? Well, our friend in Kenya, the merchant Khalid, says that he has seen a woman on safari there who he is almost certain is her. She is in fact called Marguerite, but is now married to the Earl of Avebury."
"And?" The Sultan leaned forward, eager for more.
"Highness, he proposes to seize this woman, who is now in her mid or late 30's, but well preserved and still beautiful, and offer her to you for the reward which you once proclaimed. He wishes to be sure that it is still in effect. Or, that you will otherwise pay well for her to be brought into your presence."
Kazim went into detail, mentioning that for a suitable sum, he could probably also provide an American girl and the wife of a British scientist, both blonde girls in their 20's, and perhaps the fiancee of one of the white hunters. If the safari went near her father's farm before he struck, Diana Hardy might as well be added to the bag. She was described as lovely, barely 21, and with dark chestnut hair. She was well known to Khalid, who had seen her in Nairobi on numerous occasions. He had already entertained the idea of her abduction and this was as good a time as any.
The Sultan asked again to be told why Khalid thought this wife of an Earl was the very girl who had fled his father. Reminded that Khalid had seen her on many occasions and that she had danced a few feet from him and fed him from her hands, the ruler nodded.
"Marguerite was not a girl to be easily forgotten. Even if this is not her, it would please me to hold the wife of a peer of their infidel realm in my harem, and to feel her squirm beneath me in my lust. These others also seem a worthwhie purchase. The American President, Theodore Roosevelt, sent ships against my father to recover an American girl whom he rightfully owned. She had to be given up to the infidels, along with all others who were native English speakers. For this, I do not love the Americans. They have become too proud, and they have long offended Arab nations, from the days when their Navy raided the Barbary Coast. And they supported Britain in the Great War, in which my esteemed father was slain. Yes, I want this Veronica girl, and the professor's wife, and the white settler girl."
He sipped coffee as Kazim waited patiently, knowing that his ruler was thinking. The secretary was used to Rashid's mannerisms.
After some 20 minutes, Rashid lifted a hand. "Take some notes, Secretary. Tell our friend in Kenya that we accept. If the brunette girl is indeed the right Marguerite, I will recall her. So will you and others here. If so, I will pay the sum of 20,000 pounds in either English money or gold, whichever Khalid desires."
"If the girl is not the right one, but is attractive and worth keeping, I will give 10,000 pounds, the same fee for each of the other girls. They are to be brought directly to me; I will not put them on the sales block until I see whether I wish to retain them for my own use."
He continued. "If this is Marguerite, she will face a horrible fate. I will either slay her slowly and with great misery, or I will punish her as is suitable for a runaway slave girl who has been recovered. She may possibly live if I am merciful, but only if she pleases me. Sometimes, she will be taken naked in public before observers who wish to see Britain diminished in the Middle East. As the wife of an Earl, she will be worth her cost, even if she is not
the slut who escaped. The others, it will also amuse me to own. How soon can Khalid deliver them?"
"Highness, he says that he must await the right moment to strike, but thinks that the new slaves can be shipped from Mombasa or from Malindi within a week. They can kneel, trembling before you, by the end of this month. He can also ship almost twice as much ivory as he usually does."
Rashid let his teeth show as he smiled a villainous grin. "Let it be so, Kazim. Tell Khalid that he is to deliver the girls to me. If they are exceptional, I may pay a little more. But he will not get less than I have mentioned." (The sums mentioned bought far more then than in the 21st Century.)
Kazim rose. "Salaam, Effendi. I will convey your message." He bowed and left.
Rashid thought, feeling very pleased. He clanged the gong and had the guards return the girls to what they had been doing before his secretary had come. He was more excited about the near future than he had been in many a day. Truly, fortune had smiled upon him.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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