Stories by English Authors: Africa (Selected by Scribners) — John Shaqi
Stories by English Authors: Africa (Selected by Scribners)
General
Stories by English Authors: Africa (Selected by Scribners)
Africa -- Fiction; Short stories, English
“To and fro he swung, and then the great head dropped on me, knocking
all the breath from my body, and he was dead. My bullet had entered in
the centre of his chest and passed out on the right side of the spine
about half way down the back.
“The pain of my wound kept me from fainting, and as soon as I got my
breath I managed to drag myself from under him. Thank heavens, his great
teeth had not crushed my thigh-bone; but I was losing a great deal of
blood, and had it not been for the timely arrival of Tom, with whose aid
I got the handkerchief from my wrist and tied it round my leg, twisting
it tight with a stick, I think that I should have bled to death.
“Well, it was a just reward for my folly in trying to tackle a family
of lions single-handed. The odds were too long. I have been lame ever
since, and shall be to my dying day; in the month of March the wound
always troubles me a great deal, and every three years it breaks
out raw. I need scarcely add that I never traded the lot of ivory at
Sikukuni’s. Another man got it--a German--and made five hundred pounds
out of it after paying expenses. I spent the next month on the broad of
my back, and was a cripple for six months after that. And now I’ve told
you the yarn, so I will have a drop of Hollands and go to bed.”
KING BEMBA’S POINT, A WEST AFRICAN STORY, By J. Landers
We were for the most part a queer lot out on that desolate southwest
African coast, in charge of the various trading stations that were
scattered along the coast, from the Gaboon River, past the mouth of the
mighty Congo, to the Portuguese city of St. Paul de Loanda. A mixture of
all sorts, especially bad sorts: broken-down clerks, men who could not
succeed anywhere else, sailors, youths, and some whose characters would
not have borne any investigation; and we very nearly all drank hard, and
those who didn’t drink hard took more than was good for them.
I don’t know exactly what induced me to go out there. I was young
for one thing, the country was unknown, the berth was vacant, and the
conditions of it easy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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