The Twelve African Novels (A Collection). Edgar Wallace

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СКАЧАТЬ fingers were touching a letter he had written, and which lay in his pocket. He had intended sending it by canoe to her station and arriving himself a day later.

      “You are going to be married?” he said again.

      “Yes,” she said, “I — I was very foolish, Mr. Sanders. I ought not to have come here — I quarrelled — you know the sort of thing that happens.”

      “I know,” said Sanders.

      She could not wait for breakfast. The mail steamer came in and sent its pinnace ashore. Sanders saw her baggage stored, took his mail from the second officer, then came to say goodbye to her.

      “You haven’t wished me — luck,” she said.

      At the back of her eyes was a hint of a troubled conscience, for she was a woman and she had been in his company for nearly an hour, and women learn things in an hour.

      “I wish you every happiness,” he said heartily and gripped her hand till she winced.

      She was stepping in the boat when she turned back to him.

      “I have often wondered—” she began, and hesitated.

      “Yes?”

      “It is an impertinence,” she said hurriedly, “but I have wondered sometimes, and I wonder more now when my own happiness makes me take a greater interest — why you have never married?”

      Sanders smiled, that crooked little smile of his.

      “I nearly proposed once,” he said. “Goodbye and good-luck!”

      He left that morning for the Upper River, though the reason for his visit was gone and the ship that carried her to happiness below the western horizon.

      Day by day the Zaire steamed northward, and there was in her commander’s heart an aching emptiness, that made time and space of no account.

      One day they came to a village and would have passed, but Abiboo at his side said: “Lord, this is Togobonobo, where sits the man who your lordship gave a thousand matakos.”

      Sanders showed his teeth.

      “Let us see this happy man,” he said in Arabic, “for the Prophet hath said, ‘The joy of my friend cleanseth my heart from sorrow.’”

      When the Zaire reached the shore, Sanders would have sent for the bridegroom, but that young man was waiting, a woebegone figure that shuffled to the bridge with dejected mien.

      “I see,” said Sanders, “that the father of your woman asked more than you could pay.”

      “Lord, I wish that he had,” said the youth, “for, lord, I am a sorrowful man.”

      “Hath the woman died?”

      “Lord,” said the young man, “if the devils had taken her I should be happy: for this woman, though only a girl, has a great will and does that which she desires, taking no heed of me. And when I speak with her she has a bitter tongue, and, lord, this morning she gave me fish which was not cooked, and called me evil names when I corrected her. Also, lord!” said the youth with a catch in his voice, “the cooking-pot she threw at me before the whole village.”

      “That is a bad palaver,” said Sanders hastily; “now you must give way to her, Tobolo, for she is your wife, and I cannot stay—”

      “Lord,” said the young man, catching his arm, “I am your debtor, owing you a thousand matakos — now if your lordship in justice will divorce me I will repay you with joy.”

      “Go in peace,” said Sanders, and when the youth showed a reluctance to leave the ship, Abiboo threw him into the water.

      The incident gave Sanders food for thought — and there was another matter. Two days further up the River he came to the Ochori and found Bosambo’s people in mourning. The chief waited his master’s coming in the dark of his hut and Sanders went in to see him.

      “Bosambo,” he said, soberly, “this is bad hearing.”

      “Lord,” moaned the chief, “I wish I were dead-dead as my firstborn who lies in the hut of my wife.”

      He rocked to and fro in his grief, for Bosambo had the heart of a child, and in his little son, who had counted its existence by days, was centred all the ambition of his life.

      “God be with you, Bosambo my brother,” said Sanders gently, and laid his hand on the black man’s heaving shoulder; “these things are ordained from the beginning of time.”

      “It is written,” whispered Bosambo, between his sobs, and caught his lord’s hand.

      Sanders turned his steamer downriver, and that night, when he prepared for bed, the sorrow of his chief was fresh in his mind.

      Before he turned in, he took a letter from his pocket, tore it deliberately into a hundred scraps and threw it from the door of the cabin into the river. Then he got into his bunk and switched out the light. He thought of the young man of the Isisi, and he thought of Bosambo.

      “Thank God I’m not married,” he said, and went to sleep.

       The End

      The River of Stars (1913)

       Table of Contents

       The Prologue

       I. Amber

       II. At the Whistlers

       III. Introduces Peter, the Romancist

       IV. Lambaire Needs a Chart

       V. Amber Admits His Guilt

       VI. In Flair Court

       VII. Amber Goes to Scotland Yard

       VIII. Francis Sutton Asks a Question

       IX. Amber Sees the Map

       X. The Man in Convict’s СКАЧАТЬ