English fiction; Horror tales, English; Short stories, English
“I have forty cases full. We came in here to water, and also to see what
you have in my line.”
These introductions and explanations had filled up the time whilst my
two Krooboys were making the dinghy fast. Then I walked down the jetty
with one of my new acquaintances upon either side, each plying me with
questions, for they had seen no white man for months.
“What do we do?” said the Doctor, when I had begun asking questions in
my turn. “Our business keeps us pretty busy, and in our leisure time we
talk politics.”
“Yes, by the special mercy of Providence Severall is a rank Radical and
I am a good stiff Unionist, and we talk Home Rule for two solid hours
every evening.”
“And drink quinine cocktails,” said the Doctor. “We’re both pretty well
salted now, but our normal temperature was about 103 last year. I
shouldn’t, as an impartial adviser, recommend you to stay here very long
unless you are collecting bacilli as well as butterflies. The mouth of
the Ogowai River will never develop into a health resort.”
There is nothing finer than the way in which these outlying pickets of
civilization distil a grim humour out of their desolate situation, and
turn not only a bold, but a laughing face upon the chances which their
lives may bring. Everywhere from Sierra Leone downwards I had found the
same reeking swamps, the same isolated fever-racked communities and the
same bad jokes. There is something approaching to the divine in that
power of man to rise above his conditions and to use his mind for the
purpose of mocking at the miseries of his body.
“Dinner will be ready in about half an hour, Captain Meldrum,” said the
Doctor. “Walker has gone in to see about it; he’s the housekeeper this
week. Meanwhile, if you like, we’ll stroll round and I’ll show you the
sights of the island.”
The sun had already sunk beneath the line of palm trees, and the great
arch of the heaven above our head was like the inside of a huge shell,
shimmering with dainty pinks and delicate iridescence. No one who has
not lived in a land where the weight and heat of a napkin become
intolerable upon the knees can imagine the blessed relief which the
coolness of evening brings along with it. In this sweeter and purer air
the Doctor and I walked round the little island, he pointing out the
stores, and explaining the routine of his work.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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