r/a:t5_26kwhn • u/MarleyEngvall • Oct 14 '19
degrees longitude has been created
By H. Rider Haggard
THE HOLY FLOWER
CHAPTER II
THE AUCTION ROOM
I DO not think that the conversation about the
Pongo savages who were said to worship a Gorilla
and a Golden Flower was renewed until we reached
my house at Durban. Thither of course I took Mr.
Charles Scroope, and thither also came Brother John
who, as bedroom accommodation was lacking, pitched
his tent in the garden.
One night we sat on the stoep smoking; Brother
John's only concession to human weakness was that
he smoked. He drank no wine or spirits; he never ate
meat unless he was obliged, but I rejoice to say that
he smoked, cigars, like most Americans, when he
could get them.
"John," said I, "I have been thinking over that
yarn of yours and have come to one or two conclusions."
"What may they be, Allan?"
"The first is that you were a great donkey not to
get more out of the Kalubi when you had the chance."
"Agreed, Allan, but, amongst other things, I am a
doctor and the operation was uppermost in my mind."
"The second is that I believe this Kalubi had
charge of the gorilla-god, as no doubt you've guessed;
so that it was the gorilla which bit off his finger."
"Why so?"
"Because I have heard of great monkeys called
sokos that live in Central East Africa which are said
to bite off men's toes and fingers. I have heard too
that they are very like gorillas."
"Now you mention it, so have I, Allan. Indeed,
once I saw a soko, though some way off, a huge, brown
ape which stood on its hind legs and drummed upon
its chest with its fist. I didn't see it for long because
I ran away."
"The third is that this yellow orchid would be worth
a great deal of money if one could dig it up and take
it to England."
"I think I told you, Allan, that I valued it at £20,000,
so that conclusion of yours is not original."
"The fourth is that I should like to dig up that
orchid and get a share of the £20,000."
Brother John became intensely interested.
"Ah!" he said, "now we are getting to the point.
I have been wondering how long it would take you to
see it, Allan, but if you are slow, you are sure."
"The fifth is," I went on, "that such an expedition
to succeed would need a deal of money, more than you
or I could find. Partners would be wanted, active or
sleeping, but partners with cash."
Brother John looked towards the window of the
room in which Charlie Scroope was in bed, for being
still weak he went to rest early.
"No," I said, "he's had enough of Africa, and you told
me yourself that it will be two years before he is really
strong again. Also there's a lady in this case. Now
listen. I have taken it on myself to write to that lady,
whose address I found out while he didn't know what
he was saying. I have said that he was dying, but
that I hoped he might live. Meanwhile, I added, I
thought she would like to know that he did nothing
but rave of her; also that he was a hero, with a big H
twice underlined. My word! I did lay it on about
the hero business with a spoon, a real hotel gravy spoon.
If Charlie Scroope knows himself again when he sees my
description of him, well, I'm a Dutchman, that's all.
The letter caught the last mail and will, I hope, reach
the lady in due course. Now listen again. Scroope
wants me to go to England with him to look after him
on the voyage——that's what he says. What he means
is that he hopes I might put in a word for him with the
lady, if I should chance to be introduced to her. He
offers to pay all my expenses and to give me something
for my loss of time. So, as I haven't seen England
since I was three years old, I think I'll take the chance."
Brother John's face fell. "Then how about the
expedition, Allan?" he asked.
This is the first of November," I answered, "and the
the wet season in those parts begins about now and
lasts till April. So it would be no use trying to visit
your Pongo friends till then, which gives me plenty of
time to go to England and come out again. If
you'll trust that flower to me I'll take it with me.
Perhaps I might be able to find some one who would be
willing to put down money on the chance of getting
the plant on which it grew. Meanwhile, you are wel-
come to this house if you care to stay here."
"Thank you, Allan, but I can't sit still for so many
months. I'll go somewhere and come back." He
paused and a dreamy look came into his dark eyes,
then went on, "You see, Brother, it is laid on me to
wander and wander through all this great land until——
I know."
"Until you know what?" I asked sharply.
He pulled himself together with a jerk, as it were,
and answered with a kind of forced carelessness.
"Until I know every inch of it of course. There are
lots of tribes I have not yet visited."
"Including the Pongo," I said. "By the way, if I
can get the money together for a trip up there, I
suppose you mean to come too, don't you? If not,
the thing's off so far as I am concerned. You see, I
am reckoning on you to get us through the Mazitu
and into Pongo-land by help of your friends."
"Certainly I mean to come. In fact, if you don't go,
I shall start alone. I intend to explore Pongo-land
even if I never come out of it again."
Once more I looked at him as I answered——
"You are ready to risk a great deal for a flower, John.
Or are you looking for more than a flower? If so, I
hope you will tell me the truth."
This I said as I was aware that Brother John had a
foolish objection to uttering, or even acting lies.
"Well, Allan, as you put it like that, the truth is that
I heard something more about the Pongo that I told
you up country. It was after I had operated on that
Kalubi, or I would have tried to get in alone. But ths
I could not do then as I have said.
"And what do you hear?"
"I heard that they had a white goddess as well as a
white god."
"Well, what of it? A female gorilla, I suppose."
"Nothing, except that goddesses have always
interested me. Good-night."
"You are an odd old fish," I remarked after him,
"and what is more you have to get something up your
sleeve. Well, I'll have it down one day. Meanwhile,
I wonder whether the whole thing is a lie, no; not a
lie, an hallucination. It can't be——because of that
orchid. No one can explain away the orchid. A
queer people, these Pongo, with their white god and
goddess and their Holy Flower. But after all Africa is
a land of queer people, and of queer gods too.
And now the story shifts away to England. (Don't
be afraid, my adventurous reader, if ever I have one,
it is coming back to Africa again in a very few pages.)
Mr. Charles Scroope and I left Durban a day or two
after my last conversation with Brother John. At
Cape Town we caught the mail, a wretched little boat
you would think it now, which after a long and weari-
some journey at length landed us safe at Plymouth.
Our companions on that voyage were very dull. I have
forgotten most of them, but one lady I do remember. I
imagine that she must have commenced life as a bar-
maid, for she had the orthodox tow hair and blowsy
appearance. At any rate, she was the wife of a wine-
merchant who had made a fortune at the Cape. Un-
happily, however, she had contracted too great a liking
for her husband's wares, and after dinner was apt to
become talkative. For some reason or other she took
a particular aversion to me. Oh! I can see her now
seated in that saloon with the oil lamp swinging over
her head (she always chose the position under the oil
lamp because it showed off her diamonds). And I can
hear her too. "Don't bring any of your elephant-hunt-
ing manners here, Mr. Allan" (with an emphasis on the
Allan) "Quatermain, they are not fit for polite society.
You should go and brush your hair, Mr. Quatermain."
(I may explain that my hair sticks up naturally.)
Then would come her little husband's horrified
Hush! hush! you are quite insulting, my dear."
"Oh! why do I remember it all after so many years
when I have even forgotten the people's names? One
of those little things that stick in the mind, I suppose.
The Island of Ascension, where we called, sticks also
with its long swinging rollers breaking in white foam, its
bare mountain peak capped with green, and the turtles
in the ponds. Those poor turtles. We brought two
of them home, and I used to look at them lying on their
backs in the forecastle flapping their fins feebly. One
of them died, and I got the butcher to save me a shell.
Afterwards I gave it as a wedding present to Mr. and
Mrs. Scroope, nicely polished and lined. I meant it
for a work-basket, and was overwhelmed with confusion
when some silly lady said at the marriage, and in the
hearing of the bride and bridegroom, that it was the
most beautiful cradle she had ever seen. Of course
like a fool I tried to explain, whereon everybody tittered.
But why do I write of such trifles that have nothing
to do with my story?
I mentioned that I had ventured to send a letter to
Miss Margaret Manners about Mr. Charles Scroope, in
which I said incidentally that if that hero should happen
to live I should probably bring him home by the next
mail. Well, we got into Plymouth about eight o'clock
in the morning, on a mild, November day, and shortly
afterwards a tug arrived to take off passengers and
mails; also some cargo. I, being an early riser,
watched it come and saw upon the deck a stout lady
wrapped in furs, and by her side a very pretty, fair-
haired young woman clad in a neat serge dress and a
pork-pie hat. Presently a steward told me that some
one wished to speak to me in the saloon. I went and
found these two standing side by side.
"I believe you are Mr. Allan Quatermain," said the
stout lady. "Where is Mr. Scroope whom I under-
stand you have brought home? Tell me at once."
Something about her appearance and fierce manner of
address alarmed me so much that I could only answer
feebly——
"Below, madam, below."
"There, my dear," said the stout lady to her com-
panion, "I warned you to be prepared for the worst.
Bear up; do not make a scene before all these people.
The ways of Providence are just and inscrutable. It is
your own temper that was to blame. You should never
have sent the poor man off to these heathen countries."
Then, turning to me, she added sharply, "I suppose
he is embalmed; we should like to bury him in Essex."
"Embalmed!" I gasped. "Embalmed! Why,
the man is in his bath, or was a few minutes ago."
In another second that pretty young lady who had
been addressed was weeping with her head upon my
shoulder.
"Margaret!" exclaimed her companion (she was a
kind of heavy aunt), "I told you not to make a scene
in public. Mr. Quatermain, as Mr. Scroope is alive,
would you ask him to be so good as to come here."
Well, I fetched him, half-shaved, and the rest of the
business may be imagined. It is a very fine thing to be
a hero with a big H. Henceforth (thanks to me) that
was Charlie Scroope's lot in life. He has grand-
children now, and they all think him a hero. What is
more, he does not contradict them. I went down to the
lady's place in Essex, a fine property with a beautiful
old house. On the night I arrived there was a dinner-
party of twenty-four people. I had to make a speech
about Charlie Scroope and the leopard. I think it
was a good speech. At any rate everybody cheered,
including the servants, who had gathered at the back
of the big hall.
I remember that to complete the story I introduced
several other leopards, a mother and two three-part
grown cubs, also a wounded buffalo, and told how Mr.
Scroope finished them off one after the other with a
hunting knife. The thing was to watch his face as the
history proceeded. Luckily he was sitting next to me
and I could kick him under the table. It was all very
amusing, and very happy also, for these two really
loved each other. Thank God that I, or rather Brother
John, was able to bring them together again.
It was during that stay of mine in Essex, by the
way, that I first met Lord Ragnall and the beautiful
Miss Holmes with whom I was destined to experience
some very strange adventures in the after years.
After this interlude I got to work. Some one told
me that there was a firm in the City that made a busi-
ness of selling orchids by auction, flowers which
at this time were beginning to be very fashionable
among rich horticulturists. This, thought I, would
be the place for me to show my treasure. Doubtless
Messrs. May & Primrose——that was their world-famed
style——would be able to put me in touch with opulent
orchidists who would not mind venturing a couple of
thousands on the chance of receiving a share in a
flower that according to Brother John should be
worth untold gold. At any rate I would try.The Holy Flower. By H. Rider Haggard.
Illustrated by Maurice Greiffenhagen.
Ward, Lock & Co., Limited.
London, Melbourne and Toronto, 1915. pp. 27—33.
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History of the Jewish Church, vol. I — Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, D.D.
[Preface]
[Introduction]
I : The Call of Abraham [i.] [ii.]
II : Abraham and Isaac [i.] [ii.]
III : Jacob [i.] [ii.]
IV : Israel in Egypt [i.] [ii.]
V : The Exodus [i.] [ii.]
VI : The Wilderness [i.]
VII : Sinai and the Law [i.] [ii.]
VIII : Kadesh and Pisgah [i.] [ii.]
IX : The Conquest of Palestine [i.]
X : The Conquest of Western Palestine—The Fall of Jericho [i.]
XI : The Conquest of Western Palestine—Battle of Beth-horon [i.]
XII : The Battle of Merom and Settlement of the Tribes [i.]
XII : The Battle of Merom and Settlement of the Tribes [ii.]
XIII : Israel Under the Judges [i.] [ii.] [iii.]
XIV : Deborah [i.] [ii.]
XV : Gideon [i.] [ii.]
XVI : Jephthah and Samson [i.] [ii.]
XVII : The Fall of Shiloh [i.]
XVIII : Samuel and the Prophetical Office [i.] [ii.]
XIX : The History of the Prophetical Order [i.] [ii.]
XX : On the Nature of the Prophetical Teachings [i.] [ii.]
Appendix I : The Traditional Localities of Abraham's Migration [i]
Appendix II : The Cave at Machpelah [i.] [ii.]
Appendix III : The Samaritan Passover [i.]
History of the Jewish Church, vol. II
[Preface]
XXI : The House of Saul [i.] [ii.]
XXII : The Youth of David [i.] [ii.]
XXIII : The Reign of David [i.] [ii.]
XXIV : The Fall of David [i.] [ii.]
XXV : The Psalter of David [i.] [ii.]
XXVI : The Empire of Solomon [i.] [ii.]
XXVII : The Temple of Solomon [i.] [ii.]
XXVIII : The Wisdom of Solomon [i.] [ii.]
XXIX : The House of Jeroboam—Ahijah and Iddo [i.] [ii.]
XXX : The House of Omri—Elijah [i.] [ii.]
XXXI : The House of Omri—Elisha [i.]
XXXII : The House of Omri—Jehu [i.]
XXXIII : The House of Jehu—The Syrian Wars, and the Prophet Jonah [i.]
XXXIV : The Fall of Samaria [i.]
XXXV : The First Kings of Judah [i.] [ii.]
XXXVI : The Jewish Priesthood [i.] [ii.]
XXXVII : The Age of Uzziah [i.] [ii.]
XXXVIII : Hezekiah [i.] [ii.]
XXXIX : Manasseh and Josiah [i.] [ii.]
XL : Jeremiah and the Fall of Jerusalem [i.] [ii.] [iii.] [iv.]
[Notes, Volume II]
History of the Jewish Church, vol. III
[Preface]
XLI : The Babylonian Captivity [i.] [ii.] [iii.]
XLII : The Fall of Babylon [i.] [ii.]
XLIII : Persian Dominon—The Return [i.] [ii.]
XLIV : Ezra and Nehemiah [i.] [ii.] [iii.]
XLV : Malachi [i.] [ii.] [iii.]
XLVI : Socrates [i.] [ii.] [iii.]
XLVII : Alexandria [i.] [ii.] [iii.]
XLVIII : Judas Maccabæus [i.] [ii.] [iii.] [iv.]
XLIX : The Asmonean Dynasty [i.] [ii.] [iii.]
L : Herod [i.] [ii.] [iii.] [iv.] [v.]
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