King Solomon’s Mines. Henry Rider Haggard
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Название: King Solomon’s Mines

Автор: Henry Rider Haggard

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Приключения: прочее

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isbn: 9780007382552

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СКАЧАТЬ the Africanders would starve, and with a moderate load can make five miles a day better going, being quicker and not so liable to become footsore. What is more, this lot were thoroughly ‘salted,’ that is, they had worked all over South Africa, and so had become proof, comparatively speaking, against red water, which so frequently destroys whole teams of oxen when they get on to strange ‘veld’ or grass country. As for ‘lung sick,’ which is a dreadful form of pneumonia, very prevalent in this country, they had all been inoculated against it. This is done by cutting a slit in the tail of an ox, and binding in a piece of the diseased lung of an animal which has died of the sickness. The result is that the ox sickens, takes the disease in a mild form, which causes its tail to drop off, as a rule about a foot from the root, and becomes proof against future attacks. It seems cruel to rob the animal of his tail, especially in a country where there are so many flies, but it is better to sacrifice the tail and keep the ox than to lose both tail and ox, for a tail without an ox is not much good, except to dust with. Still it does look odd to trek along behind twenty stumps, where there ought to be tails. It seems as though Nature had made a trifling mistake, and stuck the stern ornaments of a lot of prize bull-dogs on to the rumps of the oxen.

      Next came the question of provisioning and medicines, one which required the most careful consideration, for what we had to do was to avoid lumbering the wagon, and yet to take everything absolutely necessary. Fortunately, it turned out that Good is a bit of a doctor, having at some period in his previous career managed to pass through a course of medical and surgical instruction, which he has more or less kept up. He is not, of course, qualified, but he knows more about it than many a man who can write M.D. after his name, as we found out afterwards, and he had a splendid travelling medicine chest and a set of instruments. Whilst we were at Durban he cut off a Kafir’s big toe in a way which it was a pleasure to see. But he was quite nonplussed when the Kafir, who had sat stolidly watching the operation, asked him to put on another, saying that a ‘white one’ would do at a pinch.

      There remained, when these questions were satisfactorily settled, two further important points for consideration, namely, that of arms, and that of servants. As to the arms I cannot do better than put down a list of those which we finally decided on from among the ample store that Sir Henry had brought with him from England, and those which I owned. I copy it from my pocket-book, where I made the entry at the time.

      ‘Three heavy breech-loading double-eight elephant guns, weighing about fifteen pounds each, to carry a charge of eleven drachms of black powder.’ Two of these were by a well-known London firm, most excellent makers, but I do not know by whom mine, which is not so highly finished, was made. I have used it on several trips, and shot a good many elephants with it, and it has always proved a most superior weapon, thoroughly to be relied on.

      ‘Three double-500 Expresses, constructed to stand a charge of six drachms,’ sweet weapons, and admirable for medium-sized game, such as eland or sable antelope, or for men, especially in an open country and with the semi-hollow bullet.

      ‘One double No. 12 central-fire Keeper’s shot-gun, full choke both barrels.’ This gun proved of the greatest service to us afterwards in shooting birds for the pot.

      ‘Three Winchester repeating rifles (not carbines), spare guns.

      ‘Three single-action Colt’s revolvers, with the heavier or American pattern of cartridge.’

      This was our total armament, and doubtless the reader will observe that the weapons of each class were of the same make and calibre, so that the cartridges were interchangeable, a very important point. I make no apology for detailing it at length, as every experienced hunter will know how vital a proper supply of guns and ammunition is to the success of an expedition.

      Now as to the men who were to go with us. After much consultation, we decided that their number should be limited to five, namely, a driver, a leader, and three servants.

      The driver and leader I found without much difficulty, two Zulus, named respectively Goza and Tom; but to get the servants proved a more difficult matter. It was necessary that they should be thoroughly trustworthy and brave men, as in a business of this sort our lives might depend upon their conduct. At last I secured two, one a Hottentot called Ventvögel, or ‘windbird,’ and one a little Zulu named Khiva, who had the merit of speaking English perfectly. Ventvögel I had known before, he was one of the most perfect ‘spoorers,’ that is, game trackers, I ever had to do with, and tough as whipcord. He never seemed to tire. But he had one failing, so common with his race – drink. Put him within reach of a bottle of gin and you could not trust him. However, as we were going beyond the region of grog-shops this little weakness of his did not so much matter.

      Having secured these two men I looked in vain for a third to suit my purpose, so we determined to start without one, trusting to luck to find a suitable man on our way up country. But, as it happened, on the evening before the day we had fixed for our departure the Zulu Khiva informed me that a Kafir was waiting to see me. Accordingly, when we had done dinner, for we were at table at the time, I told Khiva to bring him in. Presently a tall, handsome-looking man, somewhere about thirty years of age, and very light-coloured for a Zulu, entered, and, lifting his knob-stick by way of salute, squatted himself down in the corner on his haunches, and sat silent. I did not take any notice of him for a while, for it is a great mistake to do so. If you rush into conversation at once, a Zulu is apt to think you a person of little dignity or consequence. I observed, however, that he was a ‘Keshla’ or ringed man; that is, he wore on his head the black ring, made of a species of gum polished with fat and worked up in the hair, which is usually assumed by Zulus on attaining a certain age or dignity. Also it struck me that his face was familiar to me.

      ‘Well,’ I said at last, ‘what is your name?’

      ‘Umbopa,’ answered the man in a slow, deep voice.

      ‘I have seen your face before.’

      ‘Yes; the Inkosi, the chief, my father, saw my face at the place of the Little Hand’ – that is Isandhlwana – ‘ on the day before the battle.’

      Then I remembered. I was one of Lord Chelmsford’s guides in that unlucky Zulu War, and took part in the battle, which I had the good fortune to survive. I will say nothing about it here, indeed the subject is painful to, me. On the day before it happened, however, I fell into conversation with this man, who held some small command among the native auxiliaries, and he had expressed to me his doubts as to the safety of the camp. At the time I told him to hold his tongue, and leave such matters to wiser heads; but afterwards I thought of his words.

      ‘I remember,’ I said; ‘what is it you want?’

      ‘It is this, “Macumazahn”. (That is my Kafir name, and means the man who gets up in the middle of the night, or, in vulgar English, he who keeps his eyes open.) I hear that you go on a great expedition far into the North with the white chiefs from over the water. Is it a true word?’

      ‘It is.’

      ‘I hear that you go even to the Lukanga River, a moon’s journey beyond the Manick country. Is this so also, “Macumazahn”?’

      ‘Why do you ask whither we go? What is it to you?’ I answered suspiciously, for the objects of our journey had been kept a dead secret.

      ‘It is this, O white men, that if indeed you travel so far I would travel with you.’

      There was a certain assumption of dignity in the man’s mode of speech, and especially in his use of the words ‘O white men,’ instead of ‘O Inkosis,’ or chiefs, which struck me.

      ‘You forget yourself a little,’ I said. ‘Your words run out unawares. That is not the way to speak. What is your СКАЧАТЬ