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Explorer
972 Posts |
 Posted - May 30 2009 : 10:55:35 PM
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Veronica hushed him, but promised him anything that even Marguerite could deliver for a man, plus whatever kinky personal fantasies he could imagine. “I know you, Neddy,” she teased. “But tell me what you want, and I’ll deliver, I swear. And it won’t cost you any jewelry. Just bring me breakfast in bed if I impress you enough.”
Finn cleared her throat. These offers by her female companions aroused her spirit of competition. “Look,” she reminded everyone. “Mine is the ultimate marriage, the romance of the ages. Genius, just tell me what you’d expect from those 72 virgins that you’d get if you were a dead Muslim, add anything else that occurs to you, and take me to bed. And I’ll bring YOU breakfast the next morning. You deserve that for being the greatest husband of all time.” She looked up at Challenger, her face glowing around her smile as if a brilliant star lit her from within. She reflected on how wonderful her life had been since her rescue from New Amazonia, and almost cried with happiness as a deeply emotional Challenger took her in his arms and claimed her lips with an eagnerness that rivaled what the Roxtons had been doing a moment before.
An embarrassed Diana Hamilton said, rather primly, “Finn, you may be hard put to outdo those 72 virgins, let alone what else George may want.”
Finn came up for air. “ Diana, they’re just virgins. Anything that they could do is only a warmup for me. George deserves that just for starters. By the way, if anyone wants the autograph of the happiest wife to have ever lived, just bring me some paper. I have a pen on me.”
Hamilton coughed self conciously, aware of his own wife’s eyes on him. “Well, I think I may be able to discern where the Roxton, the Malone, and the Challenger children came from. But we really should get underway if Finn is to look over some buffalo herds today. Lord Lindemere showed me on the map just where we should look. I know the area well, and we should be able to get a truly impressive head there.”
The others agreed and went to their tents for their guns, binoculars, and other personal items. The Africans began loading the hunting cars with food, water, and other essentials of the hunt.
But a freshly armed Veronica dropped by the Challenger tent. She stepped in and said quietly, “Listen, you two. I’m going to paint you a scene of that lion, too. Just don’t tell Marguerite. And I’m glad that Susan is getting that hide. She deserves it.” And she was gone before George or Finn had time to argue or to thank her.
The trucks warmed up as the hunters stepped aboard, and they were off. The Roxtons had decided to come, although Marguerite wanted to rest after, before she entered the leopard blind that night. Her husband said that they needn’t go if she’d rather hang around camp, play cards, and doze.
“No way am I missing this buffalo hunt, John. I want one later, too, and want to see how it goes. And I may have to step in and save Finn if it gets rough. George Challenger is a friend of mine, and I mean to keep his wife alive so she can outperform those 72 virgins and whatever other fantasies he has. The poor girl actually fancies that she can make love better then me. But I want them to enjoy her delusions. They’re nice people.” And she smiled sweetly as Roxton laughed and hugged her.
Stuart Hamilton saw and heard and thought, I wish that all of my clients were as delightful as this group. Life would be so much easier. He looked to be sure that Diana was settled next to him, and drove off in quest of adventure. They soon found more than he would have wished for.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - June 01 2009 : 09:41:33 AM
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They drove nearly 20 miles before seeing herds of buffalo with a number of shootable bulls, those of true trophy quality. The safari passed over almost a dozen herds, and it was one in the afternoon before they saw The One.
He was huge, Hamilton estimating the horns to defiitely be in the range that Finn aspired to. She lay with him atop a low hill with enough vegetation to hide them from any sharp-eyed bovine sentinels. The wind was right, blowing from the buffalo to the hunters. They would not be scented if it held in their favor.
Hamilton looked at Finn and asked, "Want to have a go at that lad? He's as good as I've seen. If there is a larger buffalo in all Kenya, I don't know where to look for him."
Her heart racing with excitement and fright, Finn nodded. "We have to get a big one soon, or we won't have time to hunt the other species that we want to collect on this trip. George needs some scientific specimens, and we all have other game in mind. We may as well shoot our buff in the next few days and send them back to the taxidermist. But gad, Stuart, how big is that bull? I swear that he's on par with Charles's, maybe larger." She struggled to isolate the big bull as he wandered with the herd, grazing. There were over 100 buffalo in that herd, and she didn't want to lose sight of this one.
"If he doesn't reach 60 inches or come very close, I'll be very surprised, and I've seen very many Cape buffalo. I think you need to collect this boy. We'll take the car closer, then bail out and stalk the last few hundred yards on foot. If the cars go on past without us, the buff will see them off, then drop their guard, I hope. I'm not at all sure if these animals have ever seen an automobile. This is a rather remote area."
As the car approached the drop-off point, Finn vacillated over her rifle choices. She loved the Holland & Holland .375 Magnum "magazine rifle", as the British called bolt-actions, but was also deeply enamored of her W. & J. Jeffrey .450/.400. Its instant second shot might offset the larger capacity of the .375. With the .400 double-barrelled model, all she had to do to fire again was to pull the second trigger. The Magnum Mauser bolt action on the H&H took a second or two to operate, and even a second is an eternity when a dangerous animal is headed for the huntress, murder in its heart.
"Johnny, which rifle would you use if you were shooting this buffalo?" Roxton was her closest male companion, a virtual big brother whose advice she valued.
"My old .416," he responded. He had had it refinished after leaving the Plateau and remained very fond of it. "I like the power being on par with the big double rifles, and the extra cartridges in the magazine. I've needed them a few times. You were there for some of them. But use what your instinct tells you is right for the job, here, today, this country and cover. I'd probably take the .400. Stuart will back you up, of course."
Finn nodded, and had the gunbearer take the .375, lest its added ammunition capacity be needed. She would carry the .400. She had killed her first buffalo with it the previous year, stopping a charge by planting a full metal jacketed bullet right at the base of the horn boss. The animal had been chasing native women on Angus Hardy's farm, and had Finn and Susan not shot it, would have certainly killed someone. Inspection of the carcass showed that it had been injured by a black poacher's snare. The badly abraded leg must have driven it mad with pain and lust for revenge.
"Do you want me to come, Ma'am?", asked Susan.
"No. Just Stuart and Jerogi, with the water bottle and my second rifle. No point in endangering anyone else, including you, Genius." She touched her husband in apology, begging him with her eyes to understand.
He looked carefully at her and said, "Very well, Finn. But Susan and I will follow you at about 500 yards, in case we're needed. John and Marguerite can circle the cars and come back, out of sight of that herd. We want the vehicles ready, if needed. Not that a first aid kit and some well meaning friends will be of much help if that buffalo gets to you. Take care, Darling. I don't know what I should do without you. The children and I need you."
She nodded. " I can't say anything that I didn't put in that letter that I wrote to you before Ned and I went off to save Vee from the Tecamaya. But it still applies, maybe even more so, now that we've been together for so long." (This letter, declaring Finn's love for Challenger and their friends is in, "The Crystal Skull", on the OLDER Davd Orth board. It is an intensely emotional, loving tribute to her man and to their Treehouse family. At the time, it was the longest, most literate thing that Finn had written.)
Challenger hugged her, and she slipped out of the car and into the bush. Susan and Marguerite waved goodbye, and she blew them a kiss as Hamilton led the way into the thorny scrub.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - June 06 2009 : 6:19:33 PM
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The hunters and their single gunbearer worked their way through the bush, trying to stay under cover as they narrowed the distrance between them and the bull that Finn wanted to shoot.
Buffalo have keen eyesight, sense of smell, and hearing, and are hard to stalk. They prayed that the wind would not change, and that if they froze if a buffalo looked at them, the scrub thornbush and scattered trees would break up their outline to where they wouldn't be recognized as humans.
They looked automatically for snakes and uneven ground or rocks that they might trip over. Finn wore khaki trousers that were a more feminine version of what the men wore. The shorts that she loved showing her superb legs in weren't a wise choice in thornbush country, and the sun would burn her if she wore them too often or for too long in one day. Her vanity was pricked by the looser fit of the trousers hiding her shapely butt, which she knew all the men admired. But sometimes, practcality had to take precedence over female pride.
They startled a honey bird that fluttered off, thankfully not shadowing them, trying to entice them to follow it and raid a bees' nest for honey. Legend had it that if the honey guide bird wasn't left some of the comb with larvae, it would next lead those men to a deadly snake instead of a hive. Blackaws and Hamilton both thought that there might be some truth to this, and the safari had twice been careful to leave the birds their reward when their blacks had raided hives. The honey was welcome, and the whites had enjoyed seeing how it was harvested. They had stayed well back, watching with binoculars as the Africans had smoked out the bees and gathered the raw honey.
Several buffalo looked around carefully after the bird flushed, then returned to grazing. And the stalk resumed.
The hunting cars made a wide loop and dropped off Challenger, Susan, and Moses, a gunbearer with Challenger's Holland & Holland .450 No. 2 double- barrelled rifle. George carried a .275 Rigby, and Susan had her .275. Both Challengers and Susan, as well as the Roxtons, had .275's among their rifles, so as to allow exchanging ammunition if need be. The light recoil, the good killing power, and the elegance of the Rigby rifles made them popular among safari hunters and affluent white settlers. The ammunition was also far less expensive than for the big game calibers, and more deer-size and elk-size antelope would be shot than elephant, rhino, or buffalo. For these and leopard, the .275 was a fine choice.
Challenger stopped behind a tree, and raised his binocular. He saw his wife, Hamilton, and Jerogi, now well into the buffalo herd, picking their way into position for a clean shot at the huge bull. All seemed well, and he breathed more easily.
He scanned the horizon, curious about the trees and other vegetation. What he saw almost stopped his heart.
Several black men were sneaking along just under the skyline, a few hundred yards from the hunters. The latter were clearly unaware of them. And the men were beyond the herd. Their scent would carry to the buffalo if the wind freshened, causing them to become more wary, or even leave.
The men were sneaking along, not walking normally, and Challenger wondered what they were doing. He called softly to Susan, and she found them in her own binocular. The two exchanged anxious glances, and returned to watching the strange blacks.
One wore a headress that was probably leopardskin, and the tails of leopards dangled from his waist, over his loincloth. Sitting now on a stump, his elbows braced on his knees for steadiness, Challenger watched through his 10X50 Zeiss glass and saw that in addition to their spears and shields, the men carried something that looked like a clay jar or pot that was oozing smoke. The aroma of the smoke might panic the buffalo, and he hoped that the breeze would carry it away before it was detected by the alert bovines.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - June 07 2009 : 05:17:12 AM
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Then, the oddly dressed man sent his companions apart for some distance, and they all began yelling and waving brightly colored blankets to startle the animals, who had now scented them as the breeze increased.
Challenger and Susan looked at each other, alarmed. "What do those wogs think they're playing at?", asked Susan. "And look, Professor! They're about to set a fire with that little pot thing. Mrs. Challenger and the others will be burned alive!"
She had no more than spoken when they heard the CRASH! of Finn's rifle. She fired a second shot into the brain of the big bull, and it dropped dead. But the herd was beginning to mill around and bellow, and seemed on the verge of stampeding. One big bull saw the hunters and went straight for them. Stuart Hamilton dropped it with a shot into the nose with his double .500. That shot angle put the heavy bullet right into the brain.
The hunters reloaded, and Hamilton pulled Finn and Jerogi behind a termite hill, where they sheltered as a true stampede started. They heard the men above them now, and could be seen looking around the sides of the tall termite mound.
"By Jove, those beggars started that stampede delberately, and they're about to get a fire going!" shouted Challenger. He lowered his binocular and lifted his rifle.
Aiming somewhat above the African man in charge, whom he now recognized to be wearing the trappings of a witch doctor, he fired.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - June 09 2009 : 09:09:42 AM
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The witch doctor flinched as a bullet snapped past a few feet over his head. He looked around, panicked, wondering if a tree had had a limb fall off, as in a storm. One of his henchmen looked at the sky, although the crack of the passng bullet hadn't really sounded like thunder.
A second bullet smashed into a tree slightly above the covert trio, and the witch doctor, who had some knowledge of white men, realized what was happening. He frantically searched the ground below, at first thinking that the hunters whom he was trying to kill with the stampede or fire had seen him. But they were looking around, also confused. They stayed behind the termite mound as the masses of buffalo surged past in thunderous passage.
Then, he saw the two whites much further back. As he registered them, Susan's first shot hit a fallen tree trunk in front of him and ricocheted away with a nasty snarl. Wood chips blown off the trunk stung him. Susan, not realizing that Challenger was firing above the men, trying to frighten them off, was shooting to kill. Her beloved boss and heroine and their friends were in danger from these men, and she meant to save them.
Her second bullet whipped through the red toga-like garment worn by one tall man, and the trio bolted, taking the fire pot with them. They were soon out of sight in a large patch of forest.
Challenger asked whether Susan had been trying to hit the interlopers, and when she confirmed his suspicion, he shook his head in concern.
"I'm not sure where we should stand legally, had we shot them," he admitted. "They were trying to stampede that herd, and setting a fire there would be raw murder. Damn civilized laws! On the South American plateau where Finn and I met, we could have killed these rascals and had no concerns with legalities. I say: here come the cars. We'd better get aboard and clear of this stampede. Finn and the others will probably be all right behind that hill. We can return for them when the dust settles."
And they leaped aboard a car as Roxton slowed it and Marguerite urged them aboard. Roxton accelerated and they were soon safely away from the stampede. But Challenger, despite what he'd said about the termite mound, was deathly afraid for his mate and her companions.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - June 10 2009 : 09:16:55 AM
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All ended well, with the three hunters emerging safely from the stampede. They waited until the last of the heavy beasts had rushed past, and the dust began to settle. Finn gasped as she cleared her lungs, and they passed around the water bottle that Jerogi carried.
Finn insisted on walking over to the great bull that she had shot, and exclaimed at the size of the horns. Stuart Hamilton drew out his tape measure and declared with considerable glee that they reached 59 inches, tip-to-tip. "That is a BIG buffalo!," he exulted. "Finn, you have shot the largest buffalo that any client of mine has ever taken. Congratulations!" And he shook her hand as she grinned as widely as her lips would stretch. The blonde huntress was clearly delighted with the bull of her dreams.
Hamilton's bull was also large, at 54 inches. "I hadn't fancied shooting him, but he made the decision for me," he said, with a touch of sadness. "Still, this is the second largest buff that I've shot, and I'm happy to have him. Just glad that he didn't get to us before he dropped. Now, did either of you see some men up on the ridge, waving blankets and shouting? I think I heard them just after Finn fired at the Black Behemoth here." He indicated the sable hide of the huge buffalo.
"N'dio, Bwana, I hear these men," nodded Jerogi. "I think one had the headdress of a witch doctor and the tails of leopards around his waist. The men with him wore red togas and waved the same, and a green or blue one. And their smell drifted down to anger and frighten m'bogos. I think these men wanted to kill us. I think this is payback for shooting juju lions." He looked solemn and a little uneasy.
Finn seemed thoughtful. "I know that I heard shooting other than us. It sounded like it came from several hundred yards that way, behind us." She gestured. "Back where the Genius and Susan were going to wait." She looked anxiously at that area, glassing it with her binocular.
Then, the cars came, as rapidly as they could, while being alert for antbear holes, low stumps, or other obstacles.
"Ahoy, anyone like a ride?" called Roxton.
His wife was more to the point. "Do you realize that some men up that slope panicked that herd? And they were about to set a fire when George and Susan drove them off with bullets! Are you all right?"
The three buffalo hunters assured the others that they were well, although Finn muttered that it might take her a month to get all the red dust out of her lungs. The herd had raised ample clouds of it as they ran.
Diana bounded from the second car and ran to Hamilton. Seizing him with both arms, she hugged him as if he had just saved her from an awful fate. Perhaps he had, for by surviving the stampede and the attack of the second black bull, he had spared her the agony of widowhood. He held her, murmuring soothing sounds as Veronica and Holly came over and comforted his young wife.
Challenger took Finn in his arms and told her how relieved he was to have her back safely. Susan was more picturesque.
"Mrs. Challenger, for us, the sky almost fell. Thank God, you're all right." She wiped a tear from her right eye, trying to compose herself.
Finn and Stuart thanked the riflepersons whose skill had spared them. Fire in the dry grass would have surely taken their lives.
"I'm going to find out who those kaffirs were, and they are going to rue this day," swore an incensed Geoff Blacklaws. Holly took his hand and nodded. Privately, she was relieved that the hunter with Finn hadn't been Geoff.
"Bwana, this is juju business," reminded Jerogi. "Boys not happy. We best get buffalos back to camp. Much meat. Good meat, n'yama m'zuri sana." He smiled a little at the thought of so much fine meat. But he was worried that something terrible might befall them if they stayed here long enough for the men whom their shots had seen off to return. Their next visit might not end as well.
The trucks came up, with the skinners and the winches. And the massive carcasses were loaded as expeditiously as they could be. No one wanted to linger. Even Susan hurried with her photos of Finn and Hamilton with the trophy animals.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - June 17 2009 : 09:09:46 AM
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On the way back to camp, the group paused at the Tremayne's safari to warn Charles and Felicity and their hunter. That couple were shocked to hear of the near tragedy with the buffalo hunt.
"Buffs are dangerous to hunt, anyway," declared Charles Tremayne, Lord Lindemere. "That other bumpf was quite intolerable. I shall speak to the DC about this. I was at school with his older brother. John is a good fellow, if a trifle stuffy at times. That runs in his family. I say, you lot must have met him last year, during that slavery thing?" He looked to his half sister.
Marguerite nodded. "He was instrumental in saving Holly, Susan, and Veronica. They were all set to be shipped off to Amarrah in chains when we arived with Sir John and his help. But he was a bit stuffy. I quite wanted to shoot some of those Arab chaps, but he insisted on taking them alive. Their trials were a waste of good money, if you ask me. Not that he did." She sniffed, still piqued, although she certainly knew that the District Commisioner had actually taken a fairly charitable view of Finn shooting one fleeing slaver and Marguerite killing another, who had betrayed her and the other women in camp, Diana and Veronica. (See, "On Safari" on this very board.)
"You got to stab two other Arabs," Finn pointed out, trying not to smile. She agreed with Marguerite, but was amused by her brunette friend's drama.
"And I bloody well earned the right to do that!" snapped Margerite. "What those bastards did to Vee, Diana, and me warranted it, in spades. Poor Vee was especially badly treated, having to dance for those half-civilized heathens, not to mention being whipped by them and having to do other things that I won't mention."
"Thanks," Veronica commented dryly. "I'd just as soon that you hadn't mentioned what you did. I'm still trying to deal with the memories of that little adventure. Ned has to hold me when I wake up shivering because I dreamed about it."
"That's the only good side of that episode," teased Ned. "It gets Veronica into my arms more often."
Holly, Susan, and Diana looked at one another, and some signal passed between them. They also did not want to relive the horror of that kidnapping.
"Well, look," said Blacklaws, returning to the matter at hand. "We think that you and Lady Lindemere should consider joining our safari until we're out of this region. Those wogs may be planning some other foul deed. They'll want to stop us from reporting to the DC.
As soon as we finish treating the trophies and Marguerite has her leopard hunt tonight, we'll bash off to his headquarters. Sir John can radio for a battalion of the KAR in case things turn violent. And he may be able to coax someone to turn in those black gentlemen who tried to incinerate Finn and Stuart."
"We'll send Marguerite after them," quipped Diana. "She is, after all, rumored to be the reincarnation of the Druid priestess Morrighan, and a sorceress in her own right."
Joseph heard, and his eyes grew round and wide. He was a Somali Muslim, not as superstitious as some Africans, but he was still a black, and not immune to the effects of witchcraft. "Mem'Sahib Marguerite, please do not speak of this in camp. Other boys will be very upset. Juju very strong medicine. Not best to be making jokes of it." He looked very serious.
"Who's joking?" retorted Marguerite. "I mean to cast a spell to confound this witch doctor. Tell the boys that they needn't be concerned. My own medicine is very powerful. And if that doesn't work, I'll find the bastard, shoot him, and put his head on my den wall."
Joseph gave her a reproachful look and went to consult with the headman of the Tremayne safari. Perhaps he could learn how uneasy their boys were. Talk of juju would surely have reached them by now.
Charles looked at Felicity. "Darling, do we want to join Marguerite and John and their friends? Might be good sense, in view of what happened today."
She nodded, and they made plans to move camp to the larger one, providing a common defense should trouble occur.
But as angry as Marguerite was at whoever had tried to stampede the buffalo, her main fear was how she would fare this night as she waited for a big tom leopard to come to her antelope bait. Witch doctor or not, she meant to have that leopard. And to have the knowledge that she was bold enough to try for it!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - June 21 2009 : 02:10:09 AM
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They ate a late lunch, after which Marguerite slept for two hours in her tent, or tried to sleep. Her nerves tingled, keeping her from full slumber. Whatever this witch doctor was up to only added to her natural anxiety over encountering a leopard on its own ground.
She had heard the lectures from her husband and their hunters, the horror stories from Diana, who had heard them from her father and their neighbors and other Kenya residents. She had watched with annoyance as Finn sat enchanted, absorbing these tales, asking questions, making notes for her books. For Finn, this was like taking vitamins or having adventures. Marguerite felt left out as her blonde friend and her husband had sat, sharing their love for the chase and for nature. Marguerite would endure such things, but her element was more that of five-star hotels and superb restaurants, shops catering to very affluent women, and especially, the showcases of jewellers. In London, she dragged John to Van Cleef and Arpels and to DeBeers showrooms, and to fittings for ball gowns. To Harrod's and the other big-name department stores...
She was only mildly interested when he took her to Rigby's, Holland & Holland, Purdey's, or to the agents for Webley & Scott, Colt, Smith & Wesson, and other gun makers and importers. She often begged off and spent a morning with female friends, meeting John and Finn for lunch. If she went to a gun or tackle shop with them, she would frequently find other women with whom to talk fashion and to gossip as their men fondled Hardy or Pfleuger fly rods and reels or discussed line diameters, dressings and lures. She had thought that a Royal Coachman was some lackey who rode on the King's carriage at the opening of Parliament. To John, the Challengers, and to Marguerite's half-brother, Charles Tremayne, it was some silly pattern of dry fly, intended to attract trout to their doom.
Marguerite had found a new friend in Felicity Tremayne, Lady Lindemere. The women often shopped together, or when joined by their men, the ladies could amuse themselves while the men bought cartridges, pistols, binoculars, or hunting boots. Even that wasn't infallible, for Felicity enjoyed shooting and fishing with Charles, and they were a close-knit couple. Sometimes, she was as bad as Finn about talking guns and fishing rods and hooks. But Marguerite realized that when this happened, Finn and Felicity usually tried to include her in the conversations. Sometimes, Challenger took her for tea while their spouses argued the merits of the British .275 against the new American .270 Winchester rifle. And sometimes, even Marguerite was interested, for she did enjoy at least some hunting and angling. It just wasn't as much an obsession to her as it was to her closest friends and to her husband.
She had wanted to come on safari again more than she had let on, for she loved the aloneness in this vast land, where she could look up at the black sky with its myriad galaxies of stars and concede that there probably was a God, and that this was prime evidence of His handiwork. Then, she'd remember to thank Him for sending John and the others to her, she no longer the orphan child, now loved by so many who had become dear to her. Well, by several...
But now, preparing to go forth and face an elusive, very dangerous big cat on its own turf, she mentally muttered to herself, How do I get myself into these things? Yet, she knew a quickening of the blood, a rush of adrenaline to not only her heart, but to her soul. Life became fuller, and she relished the living of it, despite her trepidation.
She moaned as John shook her from her sleepy reverie, pulling the sheet off of her and smacking her periwinkle satin-clad behind to rouse her.
"Ouch!," she protested. "I'll have you know that that's the Countess of Avebury's bum that you're taking liberties with. You'd better be who I think you are!" She turned, and of course, it was her mate whose hand had enjoyed playful contact with her brief knickers.
"If you weren't about to have tea and go slay a big leopard, I'd fancy taking a good deal more liberties with you, Countess," he teased. "Up and at it, Marguerite. Blacklaws is having some sandwiches and tea laid out for us. Then, you're off on your grand adventure."
He seems pretty chipper for a man whose wife is about to go in harm's way, she thought. But he's so damned handsome and so boyishly thrilled for me that I'd better not razz him about it. And I have no desire for Felicity or Finn to acquit themselves better than I can when it's their turns to do this. Thankfully, Veronica is content to pass on shooting a leopard on this trip, unless one practically falls into her lap, like one did last year. But my close friends, F&F, can barely wait until it's their turns to do this.
She stumbled out of bed, wearing only the elegant panties with the handsewn lace trim, and donned her hunting clothes. Beige demi-bra. Khaki shirt, less likely than white to draw the leopard's eye, matching trousers like Finn's of the morning hunt, less restrictive than jodhpurs and more protective than a skirt. Probably good not to show the leopard any of her splendid legs, too, although he might be more interested in biting them than in staring, like men would.
What if some cursed bug gets up my trousers?, she speculated. Wouldn't a skirt make it easier to find and dispose of multi-legged creatures who should have the basic decency not to crawl up a lady's leg in the first place? What am I supposed to do, crush it in the cloth of the trousers, then stand up and hop until the juicy carcass drops off my leg and down my pants? Geoff will love that! If it happens, and he tells John, I will be mercilessly ribbed for the rest of the safari, especially if Veronica hears of it. Then, it struck her that Finn would just smile and hold her hand and tell her how glad she was that the bug hadn't been something really awful, like the nasty scorpions that they had in this primitive country.
Marguerite smiled at that, her heart warmed at how close she and Finnykins had become. Both had walked rocky roads until meeting their common friends and their spouses, and it was Finn who had shown her such immediate compassion and love when Marguerite had told her and Veronica the truth of her slavery at the hands of the (now late) Sultan of Ammarah. (See, "A Prisoner of the Sultan, or, How Marguerite Learned to Dance" on this board.)
She buckled on her gun belt. In addition to her Smith & Wesson .38 revolver, it held a leather pouch for a compass, spare ammunition, and a hunting knife that John had had made to his specifications by one of the finest cutlers in Sheffield. If the leopard got into the thornbush blind and she and Geoff couldn't shoot for fear of hitting one another, this small Bowie knife with its keen six-inch blade might be all that stood between her and death. She drew the knife and tested the edge. Sharp! Like me, she laughed.
Someone rapped on the canvas doors of the tent. Thinking that it was John, come to hurry her along, she opened the flap to find Finn and Felicity (F&F), Finn's girl Susan, and Holly Delaterre Blacklaws.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - June 21 2009 : 04:02:41 AM
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Finn spoke for them: "Hi, Marguerite. We just wanted to say how much we'll be pulling for you tonight, and to let you know that we'll wait in one of the other cars about half a mile from you and Geoff. If we hear you shoot, we'll come. If you've killed the cat, fine. If not, it'll either be gone and our showing up won't matter, or it'll be wounded and have gone into cover, and you and Geoff will need us."
Marguerite looked at each of them, then hugged them, one by one. "Do the men know?" she asked. "They might have a few words to say if they know that you girls are out there on your own. Finny, George would have a coronary if he misses you and thinks that you're lost or missing!"
"No worries, Marguerite," said Holly. "George, Charles, and John are coming, too. And a couple of gunbearers, to hold torches aloft if the cat gets into cover. Geoff will have to go in after it if you wound, so don't do that. But if you do, one of the lads will go with him. One will watch left and the other to the right. Finny wanted to come, but George said no. As in, really NO." She grinned at an embarrassed Mrs. Challenger.
"One of the problems with having the Romance of the Ages is that your husband won't let you take any chances that he thinks are too risky," muttered Finn, to the other womens' laughter.
"Come on," said Felicity. "We've got a snack ready, thanks to Joseph and the Earl of Sandwich, whose idea the concept was. No alcohol, though. We'll toast you when we get back. But there's tea. With tea, we can conquer the world, let alone a mere leopard. We're British."
"Not all of us are," declared Ned Malone as he and his wife walked over. "We just came from the skinners' tent, Finn. Your big buff is coming along well. Veronica and I are staying here, in case anything happens. But we'll pray for you, and be thinking of you. We'll hold dinner for your return. You have to be back soon afer dark, anyway. No one stays out there at night. The lions and the snakes and the hyenas own the night."
"Not in my tent they don't," Marguerite observed. "Roxton and I have an exclusive say on what happens in there. If I get that leopard or just get back alive, I expect him to romance me. The lions and hyenas and snakes can go stuff themselves. If they bother us, the taxidermist can stuff THEM! Lets eat and go." She looked at the sun. They would have to leave soon.
She patted her pockets to be sure that she had her handkerchief, matches, and the Swiss Army utility pocketknife that Finn had given her*, and they headed for the table.
John sat by her, and held her hand for half the time that they ate. When they rose to go to the truck, he brought her rifles over, the two that she would choose from that night. He loaded them into the car, with water bags, spare ammunition, and the large first-aid kit.
They got aboard the trucks, and Blacklaws looked back to be sure that they were clear of others. He started his engine, and said, "Well, children, this will be more fun than Christmas. Shall we?" He put the vehicle in gear, and they were off!
(* Historical note: This is not the knife that Finn had with her in New Amazonia, in my previous Fics, with the red plastic handle scales, so familiar to most of us today. When she reached Britain and settled in as Mrs. George Challenger, she vacationed in Switzerland and brought back a dozen of the knives as they were then made, with red fiber handles. By 1909, the silver Swiss cross inlay was in use, as it is today. The blades were stainless from 1923-on. She kept several, giving the rest to her closest friends. Finn knew the value of a good knife as the primary survival tool. When she gave one, she gave it from her heart.)
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Posted - June 22 2009 : 09:24:33 AM
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When they reached the prepared thorn "blind" where the hunters would await the arrival of a leopard, Marguerite and Blacklaws bailed out of their car and slipped into the blind as quickly and quietly as possible. Then, they moved a bush over the entrance, concealing themselves. They arranged themselves as comfortably as possible, Marguerite sitting on a blanket to keep her bottom off the ground, which had been swept clean of thorns, small rocks, and other uncomfortable objects.
They set their canteens beside them, and arranged their rifles. Marguerite had selected her .275 Rigby, which had a 4X telescopic sight. Not only did this let her see her quarry four times larger than otherwise; it gathered more light than the human eye at dusk. This allowed taking a shot later than would otherwise be possible. However, Blacklaws counseled against shooting if the light had begun to fade. "If that blighter is wounded, I don't want us to be stuck out here in the dark with him."
He erected a pair of sticks, crossed near the tips to allow a rest for her rifle. "Leave it alone until we see the cat," he cautioned. "Then, raise the rifle as slowly and carefully as possible until you're on target."
He wore his Colt .45 New Service revolver, something that he seldom did, unless there was reason to suspect unrest among the natives. Normally, he kept it at his bedside in camp, ready if something broke into his tent. But here, in such close quarters, if he was unable to manuever his .375 H&H Magnum rifle, he would welcome the handiness of the sidearm. And a well-directed .45 bullet could kill a leopard. He also had a sheath knife with a seven-inch blade. "That's to let me see whether Tarzan could actually stab big cats trying to eat him," he explained. "But if you shoot well, I'll be happy to forego the opportunity on this occasion."
Marguerite laughed softly. She liked Geoff Blacklaws, with his droll humor and vast knowledge of animals and nature, and his ability to play a very creditable game of bridge. One reason why she had wanted to return to Kenya was to see Geoff and his charming, witty wife Holly again. Geoff was 32, Holly just 19, but they seemed very happy. Holly had admired him for years, knowing his reputation as a dashing white hunter. When he had been among those rescuing her from the slavers of the year before, she had decided to see if she could win his heart. She had, and Blacklaws told friends that if his days as a bachelor were to end, at least he had chosen a girl who was very easy on the male eye, who was also a good conversationalist and who enjoyed joining him in the bush when he wasn't leading safaris.
Now, he reminded Marguerite not to make any unneccesary sound. "If I point to something, I won't lift my arm," he whispered. "I'll just sort of aim my lips at it."
She nodded, the potentially grim reality of the situation scaring her a little. But she was also thrilled. She settled in as well as possible, and they waited as the tropical sun inched its way across the afternoon sky.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Posted - June 26 2009 : 02:12:45 AM
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Time passed slowly, but Marguerite had no idea how slowly it crept, for they had left their watches in the car, lest the very alert cat hear them ticking if it walked nearby. Geoff had insisted that this wasn't a joke, and Marguerite had complied, to her friends' amusement. But she noticed Finn taking this in and filing it for future reference. She teased Finn for being blonde, but Marguerite never for a moment disrespected her companion's true intellect. Finn was of well above average intelligence, with a passion for the hunt. And she was a natural survivor. Not much got past her. This would probably be in her next book. In fact, Susan was writing it in her notes even as Finn turned to tell her to do that. Susan was also bright and attentive. They made a good team.
Marguerite half dozed, then jerked awake as Blacklaws nudged her and shot her a disapproving look. She tossed her head in irritation, half at Geoff and the rest at herself. Some damned bird began making monotonous calls. Marguerite remembered reading something about a brain fever bird, said to drive men daft if they listened to its call for long enough.
Other bush sounds came and went, and she wondered what they were. Later, she would ask Geoff, but Marguerite wondered how she'd describe the noises that she wanted explained. Then, she heard a soft shuffle of big feet, and there they were, about thirty yards out in front: elephant! Three big bulls, shambling along, sniffing suspiciously at the ground. Then, one saw the kill hung in a tree, to attract the leopard. Half of an impala, lodged tightly between two branches, high enough to keep it away from lions and hyenas.
When the breeze was right, Marguerite could smell it and the effect that sitting in the sun had had on it.
The three elephants also smelled it. They wandered over and grumbled about it, low noises in their chests and from their stomachs, digesting their diet of rough forage. One trumpeted disapprovingly, then they moved off. Marguerite breathed again, thankful that the wind had been from the elephants to the hunters. She didn't fancy seeing what would happen if they had been detected. She heard Geoff let out a tense sigh, and knew that her concern had been justified.
Finally, as twilight shadows encroached to the point that Marguerite knew that their friends would soon come for them, noises close around them stopped. She heard nothing, but an electric element tingled in her extrasensory zone, and she looked carefully into the fork of the tree where the bait rested.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Posted - July 01 2009 : 10:59:40 PM
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Unsure at first what she was seeing, Marguerite looked at Blacklaws to determine if he had seen anything. He turned carefully to her and nodded.
She lifted the rifle, settling the stock in the fork of the crossed sticks, to hold it steady. When she peered through the 4X Zeiss telescopic sight, she looked into the green-gold eyes of the leopard! Initially, she thought the cat was looking right at her. Magnified four times by the precise German optics, the eyes looked like the open gates of Hell. Then, the head turned as it studied the area, and it began to feed on the maggot-studded meat of the dead impala.
Marguerite took careful pressure on the trigger, settling the crosshairs in the scope on the base of the spotted neck. She wanted a shoulder shot, to break the animal down and help prevent a lightning attack if it came for them. But the tree obscured most of the beast, so she had to shoot at what she could focus on. With luck, the bullet would strike the spine, dropping the leopard at once.
BLAM! The sound of the rifle firing was so loud that she flinched, hopefully after the bullet had left the bore of the handsome Rigby. She barely registered the modest recoil, but the blast in the evening stillness shocked her.
Everything was as silent as a platoon of soldiers just asked for volunteers. Then she heard a faint scratching sound as the body of the leopard slid backwards off the tree and a loud thump! as it hit the ground.
"When they fall that hard, they've usually bought it," whispered Geoff. "But let's sit just a bit and await developments. Go ahead and reload; cycle the bolt."
Marguerite operated the rifle, sliding another 140 grain high velocity cartridge into the chamber, feeling good as she turned down the bolt handle. So far, no further noise from the base of the tree.
Finally, Geoff said, "Right. Let's get over there and see if it's dead. The light is fading fast. I don't fancy looking for a possibly wounded leopard in the dark."
He pulled open the bush-blocked door of the blind and slipped out, covering Marguerite's exit, in case the cat came for them at this crucial time, as their cramped legs protested their standing.
Both free of the thorn blind, they stretched a little, then walked forward, rifles ready. In the distance, they heard the cars approaching.
Suddenly, there was a blur of motion to their right oblique, and they heard grass moving as something came straight for them. Another leopard! And it was making that horrible, frightening, coughing roar! It meant business, and they might not have time to raise a rifle before it was onto them!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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972 Posts |
Posted - July 02 2009 : 03:23:17 AM
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Geoff fired instinctively from the hip, the muzzle of his rifle almost touching the leopard as it launched a leap at his client.
Marguerite screamed and tripped over a rock. The leopard missed her, for it had meant to connect wth her standing figure. She rolled over and sat up, shouldering the Rigby and putting a bullet into the base of the big cat's throat. The well constructed bullet zipped through cartilage and flesh, exiting the neck vetebrae after smashing the spinal cord.
The leopard dropped, but Geoff clobbered its near shoulder with another .375 Magnum bullet from his treasured Holland & Holland.
He shined a flashlight on the dead cat, noting that his first shot had broken the hips as it leaped. This had probably saved Marguerite from a mauling or worse.
He shook one hand after the other, making sure that all of his limbs functioned. The recoil from the heavy rifle fired that way hadn't been as bad as he'd feared, but his forearm and hand nerves tingled slightly.
He shook his hands a little more, then fumbled for spare cartridges in the loops sewn onto his hunting jacket. As he reloaded the H&H, he reminded Marguerite to load her magazine, also. But she was already doing that, stuffing in two fresh rounds from the flat yellow box of Kynoch ammunition that she carried in a trouser pocket.
"I'm way ahead of you, Geoff," she quipped. "Even Finny and Veronica, let alone Susan, would be smart enough to reload a rifle, not knowing what's likely to erupt next from that long grass."
Blacklaws was baffled for a few seconds. He knew that the other ladies handled their weapons well, and Finn was almost fanatic about keeping her guns clean and well oiled. She would certainly reload as soon as possible. Then, he got it: "Ah. Blonde joke, eh?" He knew that the girls had been at that again before they'd left camp. Their frequent banter about their respective hair colors amused him. His wife and Diana Hamilton being brunette gave Marguerite allies on this trip.
"Forgive me," asked Marguerite. "I know we should be taking this situation seriously, but I deal with stress by making bad jokes. Finn is probably worse about it, though. I hope that she remembered to bring a flask of tea.I could do with some."
"I'll see that you get more than tea, once we're in camp and the guns are unloaded," promised the white hunter. "I think we've just earned a nice tall glass of Scotch apiece."
"Too right," exclaimed Lady Roxton. She had recently hosted Mick Waring and his bride, Sheila, whom she had met at the Lindemere estate, when learnng of her inheritance. (See, "Murder in a Stately Mansion" on the OLD Orth board.) She had picked up some of Waring's Australian expressions, to her husband's amusement.
Their rifles fully loaded, the pair of hunters crept carefully over to the base of the tree. A few yards away, they found the first leopard, stone dead. Marguerite's bullet had entered it where the neck joined the shoulder, and had ranged deeply in, then up. The fierce golden eyes reflected Geoff's flashlight, still looking to Marguerite like the portals to Satan's realm. But most of the light had gone out of them, and she breathed deeply and shouldered her rifle on its fine leather sling. First, she turned the safety lever over to the On position. Roxton had trained her well, years ago, on that awful Plateau where they had met and eventually fallen in love.
Blacklaws noticed and approved, although he said nothing. He was gaining more respect for the Countess of Avebury with each passing day. Even her wry, sarcastic humor was much like his own. He thought that Lord Roxton was probably a lucky man to have her.
They walked over and signalled to the trucks where to park, glad of reinforcements in case anything else unexpected arose. Marguerite was happy to see John and her friends as the African night descended.
"Well," called her husband. "Have any luck, or were you two shooting at ghosts?"
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Posted - July 04 2009 : 04:27:51 AM
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"Bloody ghosts, my arse!," exclaimed the Countess. She saw Challenger and Holly wince at her profanity, and Veronica rolled her eyes in exasperation. Finn tried to keep a straight face, for she knew how her husband would react to this unladylike behavior.
"As bad as that?", asked Roxton, embarrassed at Marguerite's outburst. But he knew that something must have happened to raise her ire. He hoped that it wasn't a wounded leopard that would need to be tracked down in the dark.
His wife and Blacklaws soon filled everyone in on what had happened, and they carefully loaded the two leopards into the back of a truck. The gunbearers and skinners praised Marguerite. "Piga m'zuri sana, Mem'Sahib!", one gushed. Very good shot, lady.
"Kuisha! Kuisha!" chanted another. Kuisha. Finished. As in dead. Marguerite was glad that the African meant the big cats, not her or Geoff. It had been close, with that charge. Had she not fallen, she would have probably had an arm shredded by the sharp claws that N'Jerogi was now displaying under the beam of Finn's flashlight. The decaying meat on them was almost guaranteed to give a mauling victim gangrene or blood poisoning, or just a nasty, often fatal, infection.
Marguerite looked at those claws and at the long, sharp teeth that Kimathi was now showing to her friends, and shuddered. John Roxton held her, snuggled her to him, and kissed her.
"Behold the huntress! Darling, it goes without saying how proud I am of you!"
"Does not!", she protested. "I fully expect to hear how proud you are, and I want that tea that Finny said she was packing. Better serve Geoff a cup, too. We went through a short, savage, nightmare this evening. I'll think of that every time I pass that second cat, mounted in our gun room at Avebury! Mind you, I want a full mount, not just the hide on the wall. You have enough of those up already."
"Consider yourself effusively praised then," Roxton grinned. "I say, Geoff: we did bring tea. Want a cup?"
He did, and was accepting it when one of the Africans stopped dead in what he was doing, looking over the second, larger, leopard. Ned aimed his light at the ear that the man had been holding. It held an ivory ring, much like a native earring. The African began shaking and his eyes grew as large as full moons. "Juju!", he hissed, and he jumped off of the truck.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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972 Posts |
Posted - July 04 2009 : 06:21:41 AM
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"Upon my word!" muttered Challenger. ""How on Earth did THAT get there?"
"A damned witch doctor is how," snarled Hamilton. "Tell me again, Geoff, Marguerite: just how did this second cat come at you?"
They told him, and the hunters decided that the first leopard had been poaching on the impala that had probably been claimed by the second, larger animal. The larger one had seen the first on "his" kill, and had been slipping up to attack it when Margeurite had fired at his intended enemy. It had probably been a territorial dispute. Or, maybe the bigger one had just hoped to rob the smaller of an easy meal.
"Well, I must say, I am very glad that both of you came through this all right," said Holly. She poured her man a second cup of tea, Geoff having hurriedly downed the first. He looked a bit pale.
Marguerite was amused. "Stop gulping, Geoff," she teased. "Watch me. I'll show you how to drink tea in a ladylike manner."
"Mirth aside, all, we'd better get these cats and ourselves home for the night," said Stuart Hamilton. "I don't want to wind up with a tire stuck in an ant bear hole. The light is about gone." He looked with concern at the sky, sipping his own tea.
They put the Africans in one truck, the dead leopards in the other, and the whites in the hunting car, save that Hamilton and Diana drove in one truck. Virtually their entire party had turned out to recover Marguerite and Blacklaws. Hamilton had decided that it was best not to leave any white women in camp by themselves.
At dinner a bit over an hour later, a freshly washed Marguerite Roxton basked in the praise that she received from her friends. She savored a glass of Dewar's scotch and soda, accepting her husband's compliments. Blacklaws was also honored for his quick shot from the hip that had diverted the charging leopard before it reached his lovely client.
Supper was roasted francolin partridge, followed by Thomson's gazelle steaks. "No fish, I'm afraid, but we'll be at a river in a few days, and you can get out the tackle and try for bream and Tiger Fish to maybe 20 pounds." Hamilton knew that most of them liked to fish.
"Are these sweet potatoes?", asked Ned Malone, picking with his fork at a vegetable on his plate.
"Probably," agreed Holly. "Daddy raises those. We call them yams. I think it's what you Yanks know as sweet potatoes. Not sure; I don't speak American too well." She grinned at Ned, to Veronica's mild irritation.
"Ease off, Holly," she said. "I'm well on my way to being American, too."
"You look American," agreed Roxton, his eyes twinkling. "Sound it, too. Ned, want to try your .270 out on bushbuck tomorrow? We should be passing through some forested land that likely will hold a lot of them. Maybe some duiker, too."
And they were off on to which species to hunt next.
Before long, Marguerite excused herself to visit the ladies room, which was in a tent some distance from the dining area. "I'll join you. We can talk about the men behind their backs," teased Finn.
The women all laughed, and the two went off to tend to their need.
Talk turned to the ivory ring in the leopard's ear. "Leopards are very independent animals," observed Malone. "How do you suppose that a witch doctor can control one?"
"Probably shot one with a dart laden with some sleeping potion or put the drug in some bait meat, then pierced its ear and added the jewelry," opined Blacklaws. "When the cat woke, it'd just go off and leopard about as usual. But if anyone saw it, they'd think that the witch doctor owned it. Very clever, especially as several safaris a year pass through here. A cat that size would stand a fair chance of being shot, and the earring would terrify the African boys on that safari. Nasty bit of business."
"I wish that Finny and Marguerite would hurry," said Veronica. "I need to visit the same place they went."
"I'll join you when they return," offered Felicity Tremayne, Lady Lindemere. "I've been swilling that iced tea that Ned made."
They were just returning to discussing the juju leopard matter when a shot split the night, the muzzle flash strobing a few yards from the ladies' latrine. Then came a second shot, and they saw their friends returning. Marguerite was reloading her Smith & Wesson .38 as Finn looked anxiously back, her own gun drawn.
"Hey, if anybody is still hungry, Marguerite just shot a puff adder back by where we went to pee." Finn tended to make jokes when she was scared, and a puff adder in the path was enough to scare even her! The heavy-bodied viper was among Africa's deadliest snakes, and probably the one which killed more people every year than any other venomous reptile in the area.
They all went to look, flashlights scanning the ground, lest there be another snake. Blacklaws had his .45 in hand as he searched the latrine tent before Felicity and Veronica used it to relieve their swollen bladders. The rest of them gawked at the twitching, dead viper until Joseph came with a panga (machete) to behead it and have a boy take it out into the bush on a stick. The head, he buried about 50 yards from the skinners' tent. The rest, scavengers would take in the night.
"Odd, that," said Lindemere. "I don't recall a snake actually being in a safari camp, other than the one that I heard about Finn shooting last year."
"It did sort of offer excitement with breakfast," Finn admitted. "I wished later that I had let it bite the African guy who almost stepped on it. He turned out to be one of the slavers who stole Vee, Marguerite, and Diana. Pity that I didn't know it at the time. But you're right, Charles. I haven't heard much about snakes in camp out here, either. Geoff?" She looked expectantly at Blacklaws.
Joseph was wiping the serpent's blood off the blade of his panga with a wet cloth. He looked down and said somberly. "Juju. Snakes not come much in camp. This is the doing of some witch doctor. Mem'Sahib Marguerite, if you are a juju woman yourself, as some say, make a spell that will protect this camp. It is not good to be here, I think. We must leave soon. Very bad omens, this leopard with the ivory charm in its ear, and now, this snake. Some mundumugu has placed a thahu on this safari." A thahu was a curse.
Marguerite looked carefully at Joseph. "You're perfectly serious, aren't you,?" she finally asked.
He nodded nervously. "N'dio, MemSahib. If the boys see you make a counter curse and believe in your powers, it will be better. But tomorrow, we must leave, or I think the boys will desert. This is very bad business."
"Well, in that case, I suppose that I had better get busy and cast a spell," said the Countess of Avebury.
"How can you do that?" asked Diana Hamilton.
Marguerite smiled grimly. "Hadn't you heard? I'm really the reincarnation of Morrighan,a Druidic priestess. Spells and curses are among my natural talents."
Kimathi, a personal boy, heard her as he passed nearby. His eyes opened wide, the whites showing in the shadows. In moments, every African in camp would know what Marguerite had just said.
"Lets clear the table," said Felicity, striving to keep a straight face. "I say, Marguerite, after you cast this spell, will you speak to my dead aunt for me? I've always wanted to attend a good seance."
Kimathi scurried off to safer quarters...
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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972 Posts |
Posted - July 08 2009 : 09:10:06 AM
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As Marguerite Roxton prepared to cast her spell, so did another.
Karanja wa Kamau was a witch doctor of considerable marque. He was secretly reknowned among the Kikuyu, who feared him on a wide scale. He had also made considerable inroads into frightening those of other tribes.
It was he who had sought to stampede the buffalo herd over Finn and her hunter. He wanted revenge for Finn and the other ladies shooting his pet lions, which he had carefully trained to regard human flesh as a normal meal. And he hated white people and their government, which frowned on activities such as his.
Karanja liked power, and he hoped to achieve it on a wide scale. His next project was to incite rebellion in the region, and gain control over most of the Africans therein.
He had released two other lions conditioned to feed on people, and waited with interest to see what happened.
And now, he would commit a bit of black magic to promote his reputation and gather followers.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Posted - July 11 2009 : 11:23:51 AM
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About 50 adherents and a dozen unwilling natives who had been kidnapped and who were being forced to watch, saw the witch doctor at his fearful worst.
Clad in a loincloth of leopard hide, with the tails of the cats forming an overlying "skirt", he had armlets and anklets made of bones, which rattled when he walked and danced. His necklace was made of lions' teeth, alternated with lion claws, and his bracelets were of lion claws. A dagger made from a sharpened hippo tooth was in a sheath of hippo hide, worn on a belt of the same material. It had the handle portion carved in strange, mystical figures, and the end was capped in gold.
He also wore a steel knife, stolen from a white man whom he had killed the year before. The stag antler handle, nickel silver guard, and the stout leather sheath set it apart from native weapons, and it was with this knife that he did any serious cutting. The hippo tooth was mainly to stab victims in sacrificial ceremonies.
He wore a cloak of colobus monkey skins, liking the effect that the black and white fur offered his image. Like his loincloth and girdle, his cap was leopardskin. He wore a fine gold watch, also in a pouch once part of a leopard's spotted hide. The watch had been badly overwound, and no longer worked. But he liked it, and had devised a routine in which he held it open, spoke strange incantations over it, then closed it with a flourish, as if he had uttered a chant of mystical proportions into it for safekeeping. He claimed that it held and transmitted messages and verbal charms into the spirit world. It was the measure of his audiences that most believed this story. Taken overall, with his formidable reputation, Karanja was a frightening man, the madness in his eyes revealing the twisted path to a warped and troubled soul.
Now, he would conduct a ceremony intended to reinforce his hold on his devoted followers, while terrifying others into compliance. Men such as he had practiced and refined the dark arts to the degree that he could command obedience from most blacks in his region. Even those nominally committed to Christianity or to Islam often quaked at his approach, for in their pasts and in their hearts, witchcraft was alive and well. It was too ingrained in their society to be eradicated by a few generations of European government.
And the gulf between the average African and the Briton who ostensibly ruled his world was vast. When British settlers complained that the African "was not yet down from the trees", the comment held too much truth to be dismissed as merely a social slur. It was a shame, but largely true by European standards, and human filth such as Karanja too frequently took advantage of the situation. Tonight, he would again seek to do evil.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Posted - July 11 2009 : 12:14:59 PM
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In the safari camp, Marguerite announced that she would need to retire to her tent to prepare for the evening's event. Like Karanja, she knew the value of darkness to enhance her spiritual doings.
She announced that Finn and Veronica were her acolytes and assistants, prompting looks of surprise from those blonde ladies!
Marguerite covered this by telling them that their secret must now be known, that their performance might dispel wickedness and provide protection to the safari, from the clients down to the kitchen toto.
Finn grinned mischievously, sensing a good show to come. She knew that she would be coached for her role, and she loved performing. Especially if she could wear a revealing outfit, playing to her considerable female vanity...Her mind was already turning over possibilities along this line.
Veronica rolled her eyes, but sobered when she caught Marguerite's warning glance. Apparently, this was serious business, to buy them time while their men decided how to deal with the local wizard. Veronica was from a jungle, herself, and understood the effectiveness of such things on the primitive mind. The Zanga and other Indians in her own realm were hardly immune from such beliefs.
She kicked Ned under the table and gave him a look much like what she had just received from her brunette "sister."
Ned gave her a stern look in return, but heard Roxton call to him, asking if he'd like to join several of the clients and their hosts for an afternoon's bird shoot. Roxton sensed what was coming, and had ample faith in Marguerite's ability to craft a suitable show to demonstrate her powers. Well versed in the African mind, he knew what must be done, and had supreme faith in his woman to get it accomplished.
Marguerite gave Felicity a thoughtful look, as the latter brunette tried to keep a straight face while sipping tea. An understanding passed between the sisters-in-law and Felicity tried to avoid laughing as she realized that she was to play a part in the exhibition of Marguerite's dark arts. She could hardly restrain herself from asking more, delighting in the coming diversion. Like her close friend Mrs. Challenger, Felicity Tremayne, Lady Lindemere, had a wicked sense of humor, and a considerable streak of exhibitionism, if circumstaces allowed.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - July 11 2009 : 1:03:08 PM
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As soon as the shooting party had left to gun some birds, Marguerite assembled her chosen friends in her tent with a pitcher of limeade as refreshment.
As she told them what was needed, the girls laughed (if softly) or looked disgusted, according to their personalities. Veronica went from disgusted to amused as the plot unfolded. Susan Wilson replaced shock with enchantment. She could hardly believe that white women would do such things, until reminded by Finn that Gypsies and the like performed similar hocus-pocus even in Britain.
"But they're sort of, er, not quite respectable," she pointed out. That was the polite way of expressing a sentiment shared by most of her nationality.
"That only adds to their ability to get simple folk to believe in their antics," countered Felicity. "And if this nonsense will flummox that heathen witch doctor and let us have fun, why not? If nothing else, it will give us a chance to display ourselves and get some appreciative looks from the men." And the girls all laughed, although Susan felt rather self-concious about the plot.
"Finny, go to the skinners' tent and get George in here," commanded the Countess. "I need some scientific advice from him, and some of his equipment to add to our little show." Challenger was studying the hides and the parasites from the dead leopards in the preparation tent, consulting with Hamilton and the skinners about making more lifelike mounts of the trophies.
He came in a mild huff, having been engrossed in that, but on learning what Marguerite planned, became more jovial. Being told that his participation lent dignity and mysticism to their doings ensured his enthusiasm. Having a glass of the excellent juice and seeing his wife look at him worshipfully as she affectionately stroked his arm soon had him as engrossed in the proceedings as were the others.
Felicity felt a little smug as she suppressed a smile. Men were so easy, if you were an attractive female and made them feel important.
She often used Finn's technique on her own husband. Then, the irony struck her: both she and Finn really did think so highly of their men that it was almost a pleasure to humor them in such a way. Good thing that Charles doesn't realize just how much I adore him, she thought, or it would surely go to his head. She blushed and tried to concentrate on what Marguerite was saying that had the other ladies smiling so widely. Even Challenger was chuckling. But what man wouldn't be happy with a girl like Finn on his arm, looking at him that way?!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - July 12 2009 : 02:27:38 AM
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When the hunters returned, they brought more than enough birds for several meals, for both the whites and most of the African camp staff. The latter were really more interested in two impala that Ned had shot, one with his Winchester .270, the other with his .30'06, built for him by Griffin & Howe on a Springfield M-1903 bolt action.
This custom rifle had cost about the same as the equivalent British items used by his companions, and was a special favorite of Ned's.
His wife walked over and hugged him, praising his prowess as a hunter. She knew that Ned needed occasional encouragement to feel fulfilled as a man and as a provider. In fact, he did well in both roles, as long as he didn't compare himself too closely to Roxton or to the professionals. Men like that would always be a little larger than life to most women, and Ned sensed it. But Blacklaws and Hamilton didn't ride him about it; in fact, they seemed to accept him as a friend as well as a client. If they had married stunning mates, so had he, and Ned felt less self-concious than he once would have. He had long since done much to establish that he was good for more than being hit on the head by villains.
Now, he basked in the glow of Veronica's admiration and Roxton's and Finn's questions about how the rather new .270 had fared against its older brother rifle.
He soon realized that Finn and Vee were walking him off to the side, where they could talk in private. They waved John Roxton over, too, and began briefing the men on what to expect as darkness fell and Marguerite's performance began. Felicity took Charles, the Hamiltons, and Holly Blacklaws away from the blacks and briefed them. Everyone was cautioned to play their roles as if they really believed that Marguerite was a witch.
"Well, she was, but she's better now...most of the time," quipped Ned Malone, raising Roxton's eyebrows.
"Right; we've got it," said Hamilton. He was convinced that what was to ensue would be an amateurish carnival show that would fail to fool the Africans, and might make the British women and Veronica look foolish. But he was too polite to say so. Privately, he thought the ladies just wanted to have a lark, for fun. Holly and Diana also believed this, and joined him and Alex Davenport in getting the guns cleaned and in setting up for dinner as the sun lowered on the horizon. Soon, the African twilight would come, being rapidly replaced by Stygian blackness, with the yelps of wild dogs, the insane giggles of hyenas, and the (hopefully distant) roar of lions to frighten any who found themselves without fire, weapons, or shelter.
Tonight, well armed in a strong camp, they would be alarmed by one of their own, the spouse of their senior member. Morrighan, whose origin rose from the distant Druidic past, would visit them. And her appearance would leave some sober British souls shaken to their cores. The Irish-American Ned Malone might be even more shaken, for he was mildly superstitious, as were many of Celtic descent. It was not only Africans who feared those whose work was done in an absence of light...
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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A Lion Comes!
