The River of Diamonds

The Judge turned sharply to Shelborne. 'What, do you know of these two deserts?'

'I have crossed them both on foot, my lord.'

The ball was squarely in Shardelow's court. His face already pink from good living flushed still more, but he was professional enough not to let it pass. I glanced at Felix Rhennin next to me. He was frowning and biting his nails. After all, he was investing over a million dollars in- our project. Shardelow's professional instinct told him, discredit the man; discredit him. He studied his papers with forced deliberation. 'Your affidavit to the court, Mr Shelborne, describes you as a prospector. In view of what you have just said, I think it would be fairer to describe you as an adventurer?'

The gaunt man paused. Then he said quietly, 'No. I am a collector of deserts.'

'A collector of deserts?'

'That is correct.'

'And how does one collect deserts, Mr Shelborne? Like butterflies, like birds' eggs — how exactly?'

The quiet conviction of the reply startled us all. It seemed to mesmerize the young woman I had noticed earlier. He spoke to the Judge, as if giving the question full weight. 'It is a sort of enterprise of the spirit, my lord. Part is tangible — the heat, the sand, the hunger, the thirst, the diamonds. Part, again, is less tangible: endurance, a quest, a new horizon beyond a smoking crest — one becomes an entrepreneur in things which are difficult to expound in the learned atmosphere of a court because they belong to a less definable world. Someone once said, "Something lies hid behind the ranges, go and look behind the ranges".'

There was a pause. The only sound was the whirring of the tape-recorder and a sighing of the desert wind through the triple-masted electric pylons in the street outside which complemented it. Shelborne's eyes wandered round the room, momentarily fixing mine. They passed on, deeply preoccupied. I'd seen the affidavit Shardelow had quoted, but I attached so little importance to it that I could not remember why he was opposing us. I say us, but it was really Rhennin's outfit. I was to survey the Sperrgebiet sea-bed on a freelance basis ahead of the mining unit.

Shardelow resumed ungraciously: 'The intangibles of which the witness speaks — and indeed his deserts — are of no interest to this court or to my client. Neither are they germane to an application for sea-bed diamond rights.'

'That is what I felt in the first place.' remarked the Judge with a touch of astringency.

Shardelow winced. 'Mr Shelborne, you have knowledge of Mr Rhennin's project?'

'Not beyond the fact that there is some big scheme to mine diamonds from the sea.'

'Perhaps it may clarify — even condition — your attitude if I put you in the picture.'

Shelborne inclined his head.

'Briefly, my client, Mr Felix Rhennin, who is a karakul farmer from South-west Africa, proposes to sink a million dollars in a project known as the Mazy Zed which is to extract diamonds from the sea. Sea-bed mining has never been attempted anywhere before. A revolutionary process will be employed. Diamonds will, in fact, be sucked up from the ocean floor as if by a giant vacuum cleaner.'

I could sense the tenseness in the old prospector. 'What is the Mazy Zed, if I may ask?'

Shardelow laughed. I knew he would score off Shelborne if the chance offered. The Mazy Zed is the name of a special type of barge which we have planned, a floating diamond mine…'

The Judge cut in: 'Mr Shardelow, you will of course be calling expert technical evidence to explain all this to the court?'

'Of course, my lord. We also intend bringing similar expert evidence as to the nature of diamond-bearing marine terraces like those at Oranjemund.'

The Judge leaned forward towards Shelborne. 'On what grounds are you opposing the Mazy Zed application?'

Shelborne began to fumble inside his worn jacket.

Shardelow said quickly, 'Have you prepared a scheme like the Mazy Zed!'

Shelborne paused, his hand at his inside pocket. I thought he was about to reply to the taunt. For a moment there was a flicker in his strange green eyes. Then he took out an envelope, extracted a thick sheet of paper, and smoothed it out. He read: 'German Imperial Decree, 13 November 1913…'

The Judge stopped him. 'What is this document?'

Shelborne held it out. 'It is a decree of the German Imperial Government, issued in Berlin before the First World War, vesting the mining and prospecting rights within the territorial waters of South-west Africa in Frederick William Caldwell.'

'Caldwell!'

The name seemed to send an electric thrill through those sitting in the court. Shardelow snapped his fingers at his junior counsel for the affidavit.

The Judge seemed taken aback. There is scarcely any need to ask who Frederick William Caldwell was, Mr Shelborne, but for the sake of the record I shall ask the pro forma question.'

Shelborne became withdrawn. 'Caldwell was a prospector. Thirty, forty years ago he was a legend in the Sperrgebiet. He was linked with all the great discoveries — Oranjemund, Kleinzee, The Cliffs. He was popularly credited with having discovered these very fields at Oranjemund four years before anyone else…' He seemed to hesitate, as if unwilling to commit himself.

'Yes, Mr Shelborne?'

'He has been dead for many years. He set out to find the Hottentots' Paradise. That was more than thirty years ago. He died in the desert.'

'How do you know this?'

'I went with him — part of the way.'

'You knew him, then?'

'Yes, well. We prospected together. We were here at Oranjemund when it was nothing but dunes, trackless, 'unexplored. It hadn't even a name.'

Shardelow could scarcely wait for him to finish. 'I must take the strongest exception to this document being presented in this manner. It is common practice to lay documents before the court beforehand, and not in the manner of a deus ex machina. I have not had the opportunity of studying this alleged concession by the German Government. I have been given no chance to call evidence or witnesses in connection with it…'

'Proceed, Mr Shelborne,' said the Judge curtly. 'Are you handing that paper in?'

'I am, my lord.'

Shardelow bristled. 'May I ask what a concession — which was made out half a century ago in the name of Caldwell — has to do with the claims — the alleged claims — of Mr Shelborne, collector of deserts?'

The Judge smiled without humour. 'Mr Shardelow, I must ask you to restrain your sarcasm. The court will assess its validity. Mr Shelborne, how does this bear on your opposing the Mazy Zed application?'

'The sea-bed prospecting rights were ceded to me by Fred Caldwell.'

Shardelow bent down and spoke rapidly to Rhennin.

'Ask for an adjournment then, for God's sake!' said Rhennin under his breath. He turned and whispered to me, on his other side. 'This could be dangerous, John. I may have to buy the old bastard out if what he says is true.'

The Judge said, 'You have proof of this, Mr Shelborne?'

'Yes. You will see from the document that Caldwell ceded the rights to me when we parted at Strandloper's Water

'Where?'

'Strandloper's Water, my lord. It was the jumping-off place for the Hottentots' Paradise, so we thought. The name is there — Caldwell wrote it in before signing.'

Shardelow said angrily, 'I wish to ask for an adjournment so that we may have the opportunity of scrutinizing this alleged document…'

'Alleged, Mr Shardelow?'

'We do not know under what circumstances this cession took place. It may have been under duress. I might want to call the notary who signed it…'

It was Shelborne's turn to smile. 'There are no notaries at Strandloper's Water. The nearest human being was several hundred miles away at the time. The place is simply a dip in the sand between two semi-permanent dunes. There may have been water there once. There are a lot of bones.'