CHAPTER VI

VAN DER WYCK'S GIFT

"GOT 'em, sir. There were two of 'em. All fast, sir!"

"Hoist away!"

Amid ringing and unrestrained cheers from the passengers of the _Huldebras_ the boat and its occupants were whisked up to the davits. Willing hands helped the two rescued men to the deck, where they were at once taken in charge by the ship's doctor.

Once more the twin screws lashed the water, and, gathering way, the _Huldebras_ resumed her interrupted voyage. The passengers went below, and in a very short space of time the forty-minutes wonder was to the majority of them merely an incident.

By noon on the day following, Colin and Van der Wyck were out and about. The former had quite a difficulty to avoid being lionised by the rest of the passengers, for, greatly to his annoyance, Tiny Desmond had related the circumstances under which Colin had leapt overboard.

The Afrikander got off lightly in that respect. He was merely an object of curiosity, and even the newly-repaired rail failed to scotch a rumour that he had deliberately thrown himself into the sea.

He said little about the mishap beyond thanking Colin for saving his life. He quite realised that if the lad had not brought the lifebuoy to within his grasp things would have gone badly with him. But what appeared to trouble him was the fact that he had lost his revolver, and also the mechanism of his artificial foot had been damaged by the salt water.

Although he continued to talk with Colin and Desmond, he never attempted to renew his interrupted account of the wonders of the Secret City of the Makoh'lenga. When Tiny broached the subject he adroitly switched the conversation off into another channel, and Desmond had the good sense to take the hint.

Beyond a mild excitement caused by the report that a first-class passenger had been robbed of a pocket-book containing £500 and a quantity of jewellery, nothing out of the ordinary occurred during the rest of the voyage to Cape Town.

The outlines of the famous Table Mountain were already showing above the horizon, and the end of the voyage in sight when Van der Wyck turned abruptly to his cabin-mate.

Colin and the Afrikander were engaged in packing their cabin-trunks when the latter asked:

"How are you going upcountry?"

"We're taking a boat to Dar-es-Salaam," replied Sinclair, "and then train to Tabora."

"H'm--might almost as well go up from here by train--through Mafeking and Bulawayo to Kambove, and then by steamer across Tanganyika. Don't know, though; perhaps you'd better carry on. We might have kept together as far as Mafeking. But we may run across one another again. If you want to write, Box 445B Mafeking will find me." Colin made a note in his pocket-book of the address.

"And look here," continued Van der Wyck, pushing his portmanteau aside and looking straight at his companion. "Look here, forget all I told you about Makoh'lenga--if you can. It's not exactly---- well, healthy. No white man ever did himself any good by trying to probe the secrets of the place. I'm sorry I ever mentioned the place or the people to you."

The Afrikander's almost fierce earnestness took Colin aback. Naturally the lad wished for an explanation, but none was forthcoming. Van der Wyck resumed his packing with almost feverish energy, never saying a word until, with a vicious tug, he secured the buckle of the last strap.

"Yes," he reiterated, apparently regardless of the fact that he had not spoken for quite ten minutes. "I'm sorry I ever mentioned the place. However, what's said cannot be unsaid. I owe you something, Sinclair, for hiking me out of the ditch----"

"No, indeed," interrupted Colin in protest. "You thanked me. That was quite enough."

"It's my call," declared Van der Wyck. "You were a good chum. I'd have thought twice before jumping overboard on a dark night--or in the daytime," he added grimly, "since I can't swim. So I want you to take this as a souvenir."

He tossed Colin a small bag of discoloured wash-leather secured by a thin strip of cowhide.

"It won't bite you," he added with a laugh as Colin handled the bag without making any attempt to examine its contents. "Open it and see what's inside."

Sinclair did as he was asked, and drew out a curiously shaped piece of metal of crude native workmanship bearing a decided resemblance to a swastika. It was of gold inlaid with copper. The face was inscribed with rough representations of animals of a kind unknown to biology, while on the reverse side was an inscription in uncial characters. At the top of one of the four arms a hole had been drilled, or rather punched, for the edges were rough to the touch.

"Why, it's gold!" exclaimed Colin. "It must be worth a tremendous lot!"

Van der Wyck nodded gravely.

"Yes, it's gold," he agreed. "African gold but I fancy there are a good many people who would give you ten times its weight in gold to possess it."

"But why give it to me?" asked Colin in bewilderment.

"'Cause I want to," replied the Afrikander. "That's reason enough. But take my advice, if you want to realise on it----"

"But I wouldn't," protested Colin.

"To realise on it," continued Van der Wyck, "don't attempt to do so while you are in Africa. Keep it. Wear it. It may do you a very good turn."

Then, as if dismissing the matter from his mind, Van der Wyck regarded his strapped portmanteau with a far-away air.

"Hang it!" he muttered to himself, yet sufficiently loud to enable Colin to hear. "Hang it! I wish I hadn't lost my revolver."