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Updated: May 29, 2025
It was Africa that had done this, and he was conscious of it. He remembered Victor Durnovo's strange outburst on their first meeting a few miles below Msala on the Ogowe river, and the remembrance only made him the more anxious that Jocelyn and he should turn their backs upon the accursed West Coast for ever. Before they went to bed that night it was all arranged.
To be at Msala in a month with forty men and a vast load of provisions meant leaving Loango almost at once. And, strange though it may seem, he had become somewhat attached to the dreary West African town. The singular cosmopolitan society was entirely new to him; the life, taken as a life, almost unique. He knew that he had not outstayed his welcome.
"The sum of fifty pounds per month to be paid to Victor Durnovo, wherewith he may pay the thirty special men taken from his estate and headquarters at Msala to cultivate the Simiacine, and such corn and vegetables as may be required for the sustenance of the expedition; these men to act as porters until the plateau be reached.
It seemed quite natural that one duty after another should devolve upon him, and he invariably had time to do them all, and leisure to comment pleasantly upon it. But his chief care was Victor Durnovo. As soon as they entered the forest, two hundred miles above Msala, the half-breed was a changed man. The strange restlessness asserted itself again the man was nervous, eager, sincere.
"I suppose," said Oscard, folding the letter and putting it in his pocket, "that he thinks it is my duty to do what is best for Msala. That is why I asked you to speak to me." Mario did not seem to be listening. She was looking over his head up the river, in the direction from whence the message had come, and there was a singular hopelessness in her eyes.
It did not sound as if further inquiries would be welcome, and so the subject was dropped with a silent tribute to the culinary powers of Durnovo's housekeeper at the Msala Station.
He looked very like peggin' out, and that's the truth. Howsomever, I hope for the best now." Marie said nothing, merely contenting herself with attending to his wants, which were numerous and frequent. "That God-forsaken place, Msala," said Joseph presently, "has been rather crumpled up by the enemy." "They have destroyed it yes?" "That is so. You're right, they 'ave destroyed it."
They were going up-country to join the other Englishman far away near the mountains. They have stopped at Msala. Find out why they have not gone on, and come back very quickly to tell me. You understand, Nala?" "Yes." "And I can trust you?" "Yes: because you cured the little one when he had an evil spirit. Yes, you can trust me." She gave him money and rode on home.
"And I am afraid I have some bad news for you. Victor Durnovo, your master " "Yes tell quickly!" "He is dead. We buried him at Msala. He died in my arms." At this moment Joseph gave a little gasp and turned away to the window, where he stood with his broad back turned towards them. Maurice Gordon, as white as death, was leaning against the table. He quite forgot himself.
Victor Durnovo's standard was not a high one; that was all. And in continuing to treat him as an equal, and trust him as such, Guy Oscard only showed that he was a cleverer man than the world took him to be. In due time Msala was reached. As the canoes suitable for up-river traffic were by no means sufficient to transport the whole of the expeditionary force in one journey, a division was made.
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