Tom Burnaby Part 41

"I don't think he'd get on with them," said Sir John. "These Bahima are uncommonly proud."

"Have the boy in and let him speak for himself," said the doctor. "We cannot dispose of a human creature as if he were a bag of bones."

"Very well; ring for him."

In a minute or two Mbutu came in, dressed in loose garments of spotless linen. He looked rather shyly at the group of gentlemen, and yet stood proudly, and with an air of dignity.

"Mbutu," said Sir John, "we are all going back to England on Thursday, and your master will be with us. We should like to do something for you. You have been a faithful servant. Your master tells me that you have been his right hand--tending him in sickness, and never tired of helping him in health. You more than once saved his life. What would you like us to do for you?"

Mbutu was silent for some moments. Then he said, stumblingly:

"Sah my fader and mudder. No want leabe sah. No leabe him nebber, not till long night come. Big water? No like big water. Sah him village ober big water? Mbutu go; all same for one."

"I'm sure my nephew will be sorry to part with you," said Sir John kindly, "but I am afraid you cannot go with him. You see, he will not want your help in his own land. There are no forests to go through; no black men to need interpreters. I am afraid our cold bleak winters would not suit you, my boy."

"Tell you what," put in Mr. Barkworth, "let him try. Booty, you can come with me, and you'll often see your young master, let's hope. I'll take you as odd man, you know; clean the boots, run errands, rub down the pony, all that sort of thing, you know. Good suit of clothes; b.u.t.tons, if you like, for best; a kind mistress and a comfortable home."

Mbutu drew himself up.

"Me Muhima," he said, addressing Sir John. "Muhima no slave. Clean boots for sah? Oh yes! sah fader and mudder. No for nudder master. Oh no! not for red-faced p.u.s.s.in."

"There's no grat.i.tude--" Mr. Barkworth was beginning from sheer force of habit; but the boy went on:

"Found brudder, sah; brudder chief. Mbutu not go ober big water; berrah well. Go to brudder; be him katikiro, sah. Fink of master always, eber and eber, sah."

"I think you are wise," said Sir John. "You can talk it over with your master to-morrow."

"And just remember," put in the doctor, "that I will be in Kisumu for two years or more, and if ever you want any help, ask for Dr. O'Brien."

Tom had a long talk with Mbutu next day, and loth though he was to part with him, could not but approve his plan of returning to his brother's village. He took care that he should not go empty-handed; indeed, in point of worldly wealth the new katikiro was probably a greater man than his brother the chief. But it was only after much persuasion that he could be induced to accept anything whatever. As the doctor had decided to return to Kisumu at once, now that Tom's convalescence was a.s.sured, Mbutu agreed to go back with him without waiting to see his master off.

The boy burst into tears for the first time in Tom's experience when the moment of parting came.

"Good-bye!" said Tom, putting his hand on the boy's head as he knelt by the couch. "You have been loyal and true to me, and I know that you will be a true katikiro to your brother. I should like to hear about you whenever you can get to Kisumu to send me a message. And see, I'll give you my watch. You don't need it to tell the time; but it will remind you of this wonderful year we have spent together. Perhaps I shall see you again some day. Good-bye, good-bye!"

Two days later Tom was carried on board the homeward-bound steamer amid the sympathetic cheers of a great crowd of Europeans and natives.

Little had been seen of him, but from the government officials to the meanest coolie everybody knew all about him, and was ready to laud him to the skies.

As the gangway was about to be removed, a round little figure was seen rus.h.i.+ng wildly up the quay, holding a blue envelope in his right hand, and shouting to the seamen.

"Just vun leetle moment!" cried Monsieur Armand Desjardins, panting as he tumbled on board. He made his way to the long chair on which Tom was lying, and handed him the envelope. "Monsieur Burnaby, vun leetle gift, vun souvenir, for to make you understan' my vair high consideration and my immense entusiasm. Adieu, my dear Monsieur Burnaby; dat you may arrive sound and safe at de end of de road, and vun fine day return for to see us now so desolate, dat is de prayer of your vair devoted Armand Desjardins. Adieu, mademoiselle, j'ai bien l'honneur de vous saluer; messieurs ... mademoiselle...."

And with his hand on his heart the vivacious little Frenchman made his best bow, and backed down the gangway.

The bell sounded, the screw revolved, and in a few minutes the vessel was steaming out of the harbour. Tom's friends stood at the rail, gazing at the receding sh.o.r.e and the waving hats and handkerchiefs until they had well-nigh faded from sight. Then they placed their deck-chairs in a semicircle around Tom, and sighed a sigh of great contentment.

"Well, we're off at last," said Mr. Barkworth, lighting a cigar and looking round over his spectacles on the group, with even more than his usual benevolence. "England, home, and beauty, and all that sort of thing, you know. No place like home. Well, what did mossoo give you, Tom? What I never can make out is, why a Frenchman can't do things in the same way as rational people. Why make a ballroom bow on the deck of a steamer, eh? Tell me that, now. What are you smiling at, Tom? Some bit of buffoonery, I'll warrant, h'm!"

"Monsieur Desjardins has dropped into verse," replied Tom, laughing outright. "A rhymed valedictory."

"Read it," said Sir John.

"Your accent is better than mine," said Tom, pa.s.sing the paper to Lilian, his eyes twinkling. In her perfect accent, and with due attention to the mute e's, she began to read:

"o mon heros si jeune! o guerrier intrepide!

L'Afrique a ton depart a le coeur triste et vide.

Lea bords du vaste lac resonnent de sanglots, Et ton nom, o Thomas, se mele au bruit des flots."

Only Sir John and his nephew noticed that at this point the reader flushed a little, and crumpled the paper slightly in her hand. There was a momentary pause, as though everybody expected more to come, but Lilian was silent, and her father exclaimed:

"H'm! Translate, Lilian; why couldn't the mossoo say what he had to say in English?"

Sir John took the verses from her, and after an amused glance at them put them in his pocket.

"They're decent enough Alexandrines, Barkworth," he said with a chuckle.

"Lilian's thinking of Tom's blushes, I suspect."

"Well then, translate, somebody. What's the fellow say?"

"Translate 'em in rhyme, a line each, sort of game," suggested Major Lister.

"A good idea!" exclaimed Sir John. "Place aux dames; you begin, Lilian; and it must be heroic measure, of course, to match the theme."

"How will this do?" asked Lilian after a moment or two.

"'O youthful hero, warrior brave and bold!'"

"Capital! and the right heroic strain. I go on:

'Deserted Afric's heart is sad and cold'.

Now, Lister, it's your turn."

Major Lister puffed solemnly at his pipe for at least a minute before he said slowly, pausing after every word:

"'The sh.o.r.es of the vast lake resound with sobs'."

"As literal as a Kelly's crib, 'pon my word!" cried Sir John, laughing; "but I can't say much for your sense of rhythm. Now Barkworth, you're in for the last line. Come along, no s.h.i.+rking:

'Et ton nom, o Thomas, se mele au bruit des fiots'."

"What's it mean in plain English? I never made poetry in my life; used to get swished horribly for my verses at school; never could see any good in 'em."

"Gammon! It means: 'And your name, O Thomas, mingles with the noise of the waves'."

"There now, didn't I tell you so! Gammon indeed! Utter tomfoolery!