Nairobi was disappointing. At a distance it looked like a cluster of tin cottages, and though these appeared larger and more substantial on a nearer view, they retained the dreary aspect of makeshift which corrugated iron always gives. Mr. Gillespie, however, the coffee-planter with whom the Hallidays were to stay, was hospitality itself; he and his good wife received their visitors with real Scottish heartiness of welcome. They gave them a capital dinner, and made them feel thoroughly at home.
Mr. Gillespie was much amused when, in answering his question about their journey from Mombasa, John told him of Said Mohammed, failed B.A.
"I'm that myself," he said, with a comical smile--"failed M.A. of Glasgow, though I don't call myself so. Professor Ramsay's Latin Composition fair stuck me, that's a fact. Man, these Indians are a problem. We've some thousands of them here, industrious, quick, and able to live on next to nothing, which we Scotsmen have got out of the way of. I believe in free trade, when it is free; but I don't believe in free competition with people who can beat us hollow, and these Indians will do that if we let 'em. We're bound to put restrictions on them."
"But they're British subjects, sir," John was beginning.
"Aye," interrupted Mr. Gillespie, "and so are the lions and rhinoceros of these parts, and we have to fight 'em. A country can't belong to both wild beasts and men; nor can it belong to black men and white; one or other must go to the wall. Not that the Indians are wild beasts, or even black; on the contrary, they're very decent folk in the main, and that's the worst of it. The only solution I see is to let them develop the Lowlands where we can't live, and to keep the Highlands for ourselves. Man, it's a grand country."
After dinner Mr. Gillespie led his guests to the verandah, and providing them with deck-chairs and cigars, discussed with them their immediate future.
"We've a decent club here; I'll introduce you to-morrow, Halliday. You can get a round of golf; and there are several young lassies who'll play lawn tennis all day with your son if he wishes."
"Don't speak of it, man," said Mr. Halliday hastily. "We're out on business--strictly on business, and we've no time for playing till we've fixed on our land. Where is this Mount Kenya, anyway? John Gilmour--d'ye know him?--was out hunting a while ago, and he wrote me he'd found the very place for me, somewhere south-east of Mount Kenya; he stuck a post in the ground to mark the spot, and I've the directions written down somewhere."
"Mount Kenya's a bit north-east of us, a hundred miles or so. Fine country, too."
"And how do you get there?"
"Well, the ground's not exactly fit for motor-cars yet, and horses don't thrive. You can get mules, but they're apt to be a trouble, so I guess you'd better tramp it. You'll have to carry food with you, and a load of 'trade' for the natives; we'll have to see about getting carriers for you; you pay 'em about four rupees a month, and feed 'em. Their food don't cost much; you can get a hundredweight of native grain and red beans for three or four rupees, and if you're good shots you can provide yourselves with plenty of meat on the way."
"There's no fear of trouble with the natives, I suppose?"
"Not if you don't go too far north. South of Kenya they're friendly enough as a rule, but there are wild tribes on the east and north. You must have two porters who can shoot; Sniders they're used to; but don't let 'em use them except in case of necessity. Do all the game shooting yourselves, and keep a firm hand on the men; they'll play you all manner of tricks if you don't. They're the queerest people God ever made, that's a fact. They'll desert at any moment and forfeit their pay, for no reason at all that we can understand. I could tell you of men who'll carry a load of ninety pounds or more every day for a month on end, and then all at once decamp, hundreds of miles away from their home, and with no earthly chance of getting there. But you'll find 'em out for yourselves."
The talk lasted far into the night, Mr. Gillespie giving advice and retailing reminiscences of his own early days as a settler, which John drank in eagerly. Next day they set about collecting porters for the journey. The news that a white man was going up country had already spread through the native quarter of the town, and Mr. Gillespie's office was besieged by a great crowd of black men, representing a score of different races, all eager to join the stranger's "safari." The experience of the coffee-planter was very useful at this juncture, and the Hallidays were quietly amused as he dismissed man after man with little ceremony and a curtness of speech which, had they understood it (he spoke in Swahili, the common vehicle of intercourse between European and native), would have amused them still more. A little M'kamba would come forward with a smile. "You're a thief; be off," said Mr. Gillespie, and the man went away, still smiling. A hulking Swahili appears, a sullen look on his face. "You're always quarrelling; be off," says Mr. Gillespie, and the Swahili retires, to join the crowd of rejected. At length half-a-dozen men were selected, three Swahilis, of whom Coja ben Selim, a big, good-tempered-looking fellow, was to be headman; and three Wakamba. Mr. Gillespie was doubtful whether so small a safari would suffice; but Mr. Halliday was bent on economy; he argued that he could not in any case afford an escort large enough to cope with a serious native attack, and further, that a party of modest dimensions was not so likely to provoke hostility as a large one. Moreover, he intended to pay only a flying visit to the site of his proposed settlement, for the purpose of a preliminary survey. If he was pleased with the country, he intended to mark out the ground and put in an application to the Land Commissioner for a lease of a thousand acres or so. With luck, a month would suffice for this prospecting journey, which incidentally, as Mr. Gillespie informed him, would absolve him from paying registration fees on his porters, such fees only being necessary when they were engaged for two months or more.
It remained to hire a cook for the expedition.
"We don't need a cook," said Mr. Halliday. "I've roughed it often enough; we can do our own cooking."
"Man, you're a tenderfoot," said Mr. Gillespie, laughing. "You must have a cook. Your men would all mutiny if you didn't. I don't mean that he would cook for them; they'll have their own cooking-pots; but they wouldn't obey you for a day if they saw you cooking for yourself. The first maxim for a white man in this country is: 'Never do a black man's work.' Order your men about as much as you please, but don't do anything."
"But that's a doctrine of the dark ages. Confound it, man, that's the kind of thing we shook off centuries ago. I'm not a duke."
"That's just exactly what you are here. The natives will regard you as their lord and master, and if you don't act up to the part--why, man, I think the Governor will expel you as an undesirable alien. In short, you must have a cook."
Here Mr. Gillespie's native servant came in to say that an Indian gentleman desired to see him.
"Send him in," said Mr. Gillespie, and there entered, suave and smiling, Said Mohammed, failed B.A. He bowed respectfully--a little too respectfully, thought John--to his acquaintances of the day before; then, addressing himself to Mr. Gillespie, he said--
"Having learnt in the bazaar, sir, that the esteemed gentleman in whose company I had the honour to travel yesterday is engaging a safari, I embrace the opportunity of submitting tender of my services in unremitting attention to the interior economy--soups, joints, sweets, et cetera, or, as one might say, hoc genus omne, as it were."
John opened his eyes. Apparently the failed B.A. was offering himself as cook; but John thought he must be mistaken. Mr. Gillespie, however, after a stare at his visitor, said in a severely practical tone--
"You have experience?"
"Yes, sir, I am experientia docet with several years' standing, and testimonials galore. Videlicet, the Central Restaurant, sir, in London, continuously chock-a-block on curry day when my dishes, prepared Indian fashion, were the delight of city gents and ladies of prepossessing appearance who feed there regular as clock-work. In soup, joint, entrée I am a don; in sauce I am a wily adept."
"Come up to my bungalow and cook my dinner to-night," said Mr. Gillespie.
"Verree good, sir. The proof of the pudding is in the mastication thereof. Good-morning, sir, and assuring you of my best services at all times."
There was a laugh when Said Mohammed had gone.
"He'll never do," said Mr. Halliday.
"Man, if he's any good at all he'll be a perfect treasure," said Mr. Gillespie. "And you'll have to pay him fifty rupees a month."
"Near £3 a month for cooking?" cried Mr. Halliday. "Can't afford it."
"But, my dear sir, you can't get any sort of a cook here for less than thirty rupees; and our failed B.A., if he's worth his salt, will be worth fifty. He will at least be clean; it's a part of his religion."
"Well, perhaps he's a failure all round. Anyway, we don't want kickshaws, and a cheaper man will do all we need."
But the dinner at Mr. Gillespie's that night turned out excellent--well cooked, well served, and varied though simple dishes.
"Faith, Halliday," said the host, "if you don't engage the man I'll take him myself. That'll bring you up to the scratch if you've any Scotch blood left in you."
Whether it was due to this provocation or not, Mr. Halliday engaged Said Mohammed next day, for a month. Then, having been advised of the inexpediency of delay, which might be taken advantage of by his porters to desert, he decided to set off the same day, as soon as the hottest hours were past. He sent Said Mohammed into the bazaar to buy the necessary amount of food-stuff for the natives; Mr. Gillespie undertook the purchase of small quantities of "trade"--sheeting, coloured cloths, and beads for the most part; Mr. Halliday himself bought a small tent, provisions, blankets, rifles and ammunition, and a few cheap utensils. All these articles were sent up to the bungalow. At three o'clock Said Mohammed and the six porters arrived and set about packing up, under Mr. Gillespie's directions. Within an hour the loads were packed and placed in a line on the ground.
"Now, Halliday," said Mr. Gillespie, "it's up to you. You must give each man his proper load, and don't be jockeyed."
There was a twinkle in his eye which Mr. Halliday detected.
"Are you setting a trap for me?" he asked.
"No, no, man; but as you're to be master, the sooner you feel your feet the better."
Whereupon Mr. Halliday, who was not without courage as well as shrewd common-sense, instantly confided the tent and personal baggage to two of the three Swahilis, and distributed the remaining loads among the three Wakamba by a rough and ready estimate of their muscular capabilities. Then began what John called the "fun." The Swahilis accepted their loads without a murmur; were they not the best fitted to carry the bwana's belongings? But one of the Wakamba, a stout little fellow with one eye, uttered a terrible wail when he lifted his bundle to his back, and, letting it down again, began to expostulate in a torrent of gibberish, of which the bwana, of course, understood not a word. The others instantly followed his example, and all three began to wrangle and gesticulate and abuse one another with a deafening clamour. It was plain that every man wanted the load of somebody else. Mr. Halliday looked on calmly for a few moments, Mr. Gillespie curiously watching to see what he would do, and placidly smoking a cigar without offering any suggestion. Suddenly Mr. Halliday called to Coja ben Selim, the Swahili, and the only man whose name he knew.
"You're headman; settle it," he said calmly, turning on his heel. "I give you five minutes."
The big Swahili instantly went among the Wakamba, cuffing them right and left. In less than five minutes peace was restored, the Wakamba slung their loads to their backs, passing the long loop of raw hide around their foreheads; the Swahilis set theirs upon their heads; and the cry of "Safari! safari!" indicated that they were ready to be off.
"A capital start, Halliday," said Mr. Gillespie. "Good luck to ye."
Mr. Halliday and John shook hands heartily with their host and hostess, and taking their rifles under their arm, set off after the little caravan, the leader of which had already started a marching song. Said Mohammed, carrying a little bundle of his own, brought up the rear, with Coja ben Selim.