There was something in Mr Colles’s tone which made me risk another question.
‘What’s the matter with the place? There must be more wrong with it than loneliness to make everybody clear out. I have taken on this job, and I mean to stick to it, so you needn’t be afraid to tell me.’
The manager looked at me sharply. ‘That’s the way to talk, my lad. You look as if you had a stiff back, so I’ll be frank with you. There is something about the place. It gives the ordinary man the jumps. What it is, I don’t know, and the men who come back don’t know themselves. I want you to find out for me. You’ll be doing the firm an enormous service if you can get on the track of it. It may be the natives, or it may be the takhaars, or it may be something else. Only old Japp can stick it out, and he’s too old and doddering to care about moving. I want you to keep your eyes skinned, and write privately to me if you want any help. You’re not out here for your health, I can see, and here’s a chance for you to get your foot on the ladder.
‘Remember, I’m your friend,’ he said to me again at the garden gate. ‘Take my advice and lie very low. Don’t talk, don’t meddle with drink, learn all you can of the native jabber, but don’t let on you understand a word. You’re sure to get on the track of something. Good-bye, my boy,’ and he waved a fat hand to me.
That night I embarked on a cargo-boat which was going round the coast to Delagoa Bay. It is a small world - at least for us far-wandering Scots. For who should I find when I got on board but my old friend Tam Dyke, who was second mate on the vessel? We wrung each other’s hands, and I answered, as best I could, his questions about Kirkcaple. I had supper with him in the cabin, and went on deck to see the moorings cast.
Suddenly there was a bustle on the quay, and a big man with a handbag forced his way up the gangway. The men who were getting ready to cast off tried to stop him, but he elbowed his way forward, declaring he must see the captain. Tam went up to him and asked civilly if he had a passage taken. He admitted he had not, but said he would make it right in two minutes with the captain himself. The Rev. John Laputa, for some reason of his own, was leaving Durban with more haste than he had entered it.
I do not know what passed with the captain, but the minister got his passage right enough, and Tam was even turned out of his cabin to make room for him.
This annoyed my friend intensely.
‘That black brute must be made of money, for he paid through the nose for this, or I’m a Dutchman. My old man doesn’t take to his black brethren any more than I do. Hang it all, what are we coming to, when we’re turning into a blooming cargo boat for niggers?’
I had all too little of Tam’s good company, for on the afternoon of the second day we reached the little town of Lourenco Marques. This was my final landing in Africa, and I mind how eagerly I looked at the low, green shores and the bush-covered slopes of the mainland. We were landed from boats while the ship lay out in the bay, and Tam came ashore with me to spend the evening. By this time I had lost every remnant of homesickness. I had got a job before me which promised better things than colleging at Edinburgh, and I was as keen to get up country now as I had been loth to leave England. My mind being full of mysteries, I scanned every Portuguese loafer on the quay as if he had been a spy, and when Tam and I had had a bottle of Collates in a cafe I felt that at last I had got to foreign parts and a new world.
Tam took me to supper with a friend of his, a Scot by the name of Aitken, who was landing-agent for some big mining house on the Rand. He hailed from Fife and gave me a hearty welcome, for he had heard my father preach in his young days.
Aitken was a strong, broad-shouldered fellow who had been a sergeant in the Gordons, and during the war he had done secret-service work in Delagoa. He had hunted, too, and traded up and down Mozambique, and knew every dialect of the Kaffirs. He asked me where I was bound for, and when I told him there was the same look in his eyes as I had seen with the Durban manager.
‘You’re going to a rum place, Mr Crawfurd,’ he said.
‘So I’m told. Do you know anything about it? You’re not the first who has looked queer when I’ve spoken the name.’
‘I’ve never been there,’ he said, ‘though I’ve been pretty near it from the Portuguese side. That’s the funny thing about Blaauwildebeestefontein. Everybody has heard of it, and nobody knows it.’
‘I wish you would tell me what you have heard.’
‘Well, the natives are queer up thereaways. There’s some kind of a holy place which every Kaffir from Algoa Bay to the Zambesi and away beyond knows about.
When I’ve been hunting in the bush-veld I’ve often met strings of Kaffirs from hundreds of miles distant, and they’ve all been going or coming from Blaauwildebeestefontein. It’s like Mecca to the Mohammedans, a place they go to on pilgrimage. I’ve heard of an old man up there who is believed to be two hundred years old. Anyway, there’s some sort of great witch or wizard living in the mountains.’
Aitken smoked in silence for a time; then he said, ‘I’ll tell you another thing.
I believe there’s a diamond mine. I’ve often meant to go up and look for it.’
Tam and I pressed him to explain, which he did slowly after his fashion.
‘Did you ever hear of I.D.B. - illicit diamond broking?’ he asked me. ‘Well, it’s notorious that the Kaffirs on the diamond fields get away with a fair number of stones, and they are bought by Jew and Portuguese traders. It’s against the law to deal in them, and when I was in the intelligence here we used to have a lot of trouble with the vermin. But I discovered that most of the stones came from natives in one part of the country - more or less round Blaauwildebeestefontein - and I see no reason to think that they had all been stolen from Kimberley or the Premier. Indeed some of the stones I got hold of were quite different from any I had seen in South Africa before. I shouldn’t wonder if the Kaffirs in the Zoutpansberg had struck some rich pipe, and had the sense to keep quiet about it. Maybe some day I’ll take a run up to see you and look into the matter.’
After this the talk turned on other topics till Tam, still nursing his grievance, asked a question on his own account. ‘Did you ever come across a great big native parson called Laputa? He came on board as we were leaving Durban, and I had to turn out of my cabin for him.’ Tam described him accurately but vindictively, and added that ‘he was sure he was up to no good.’
Aitken shook his head. ‘No, I don’t know the man. You say he landed here? Well, I’ll keep a look-out for him. Big native parsons are not so common.’
Then I asked about Henriques, of whom Tam knew nothing. I described his face, his clothes, and his habits. Aitken laughed uproariously.
‘Tut, my man, most of the subjects of his Majesty the King of Portugal would answer to that description. If he’s a rascal, as you think, you may be certain he’s in the I.D.B. business, and if I’m right about Blaauwildebeestefontein you’ll likely have news of him there some time or other. Drop me a line if he comes, and I’ll get on to his record.’
I saw Tam off in the boat with a fairly satisfied mind. I was going to a place with a secret, and I meant to find it out. The natives round Blaauwildebeestefontein were queer, and diamonds were suspected somewhere in the neighbourhood.
Henriques had something to do with the place, and so had the Rev. John Laputa, about whom I knew one strange thing. So did Tam by the way, but he had not identified his former pursuer, and I had told him nothing. I was leaving two men behind me, Colles at Durban and Aitken at Lourenco Marques, who would help me if trouble came. Things were shaping well for some kind of adventure.
The talk with Aitken had given Tam an inkling of my thoughts. His last words to me were an appeal to let him know if there was any fun going.