Rudyard Kipling's Tales of Horror and Fantasy (22 page)

‘And that's all we know, except that no one has gone there,and they fight, and in any place where they fight a man who knows how to drill men can always be a King. We shall go to those parts and say to any King we find: “D'you want to vanquish your foes?” and we will show him how to drill men; for that we know better than anything else. Then we will subvert that King and seize his Throne and establish a Dy-nasty.'

‘You'll be cut to pieces before you're fifty miles across the Border,' I said. ‘You have to travel through Afghanistan to get to that country. It's one mass of mountains and peaks and glaciers, and no Englishman has been through it. The people are utter brutes, and even if you reached them you couldn't do anything.'

‘That's more like,' said Carnehan. ‘If you could think us a little more mad we would be more pleased. We have come to you to know about this country, to read a book about it, and to be shown maps. We want you to tell us that we are fools and to show us your books.' He turned to the book-cases.

‘Are you at all in earnest?' I said.

‘A little,' said Dravot sweetly. ‘As big a map as you have got, even if it's all blank where Kafiristan is, and any books you've got. We can read, though we aren't very educated.'

I uncased the big thirty-two miles to the inch map of India and two smaller Frontier maps, hauled down volume INF-KAN of the Encyclopædia and the men consulted them.

‘See here!' said Dravot, his thumb on the map. ‘Up to Jagdallak, Peachey and me know the road. We was there with Robert's Army. We'll have to turn off to the right at Jagdallak through Laghmann territory. Then we get among the hills – fourteen thousand feet – fifteen thousand – it will be cold work there, but it don't look very far on the map.'

I handed him Wood on the
Sources of the Oxus.
Carnehan was deep in the Encyclopædia.

‘They're a mixed lot,' said Dravot reflectively; ‘and it won't help us to know the names of their tribes. The more tribes the more they'll fight, and the better for us. From Jagdallak to Ashang. H'mm!'

‘But all the information about the country is as sketchy andinaccurate as can be,' I protested. ‘No one knows anything about it really. Here's the file of the
United Services Institute Journal.
Read what Bellew says.'

‘Blow Bellew!' said Carnehan. ‘Dan, they're an all-fired lot of heathens, but this book here says they think they're related to us English.'

I smoked while the men pored over Raverty, Wood, the maps and the Encyclopædia.

‘There is no use your waiting,' said Dravot politely. ‘It's about four o'clock now. We'll go before six o'clock if you want to sleep, and we won't steal any of the papers. Don't you sit up. We're two harmless lunatics, and if you come to-morrow evening, down to the Serai we'll say good-bye to you.'

‘You are two fools,' I answered. ‘You'll be turned back at the Frontier or cut up the minute you set foot in Afghanistan. Do you want any money or a recommendation down country? I can help you to the chance of work next week.'

‘Next week we shall be hard at work ourselves, thank you,' said Dravot. ‘It isn't so easy being a King as it looks. When we've got our Kingdom in going order we'll let you know, and you can come up and help us to govern it.'

‘Would two lunatics make a Contrack like that?' said Carnehan, with subdued pride, showing me a greasy half-sheet of note paper on which was written the following. I copied it, then and there, as a curiosity:–

This Contrackt between me and you persuing witnesseth in name of God Amen and so forth.

(One). That me and you will settle this matter together:
i.e.,
to be Kings of Kafiristan.

(Two). That you and me will not while this matter is being settled look at any Liquor nor any Woman black white or brown so as to get mixed up with one or the other harmful.

(Three). That we conduct ourselves with dignity and discretion and if one of us gets into trouble you will stay by him.

Signed by you and me this day.

Peachey Taliaferro Carnehan.

Daniel Dravot.

Both Gentlemen at Large.

‘There was no need for the last article,' said Carnehan blushing modestly; ‘but it looks regular. Now you know the sort of men that loafers are – we
are
loafers, Dan, until we get out of India – and do you think that we would sign a Contrack like that unless we was in earnest? We have kept away from the two things that make life worth having.'

‘You won't enjoy your lives much longer if you are going to try this idiotic adventure. Don't set the office on fire,' I said, ‘and go away before nine o'clock.'

I left them still poring over the maps and making, notes on the back of the ‘Contrack'. ‘Be sure to come down to the Serai to-morrow,' were their parting words.

The Kumharsen Serai is the great four-square sink of humanity where the strings of camels and horses from the North load and unload. All the nationalities of Central Asia may be found there, and most of the folk of India proper, Balkh, and Bokhara, there meet Bengal and Bombay, and try to draw eye-teeth. You can buy ponies, turquoises, Persian pussy-cats, saddle-bags, fat-tailed sheep and musk in the Kumharsen Serai, and get many strange things for nothing. In the afternoon I went down there, to see whether my friends intended to keep their word or were lying about drunk.

A Mohammedan priest attired in fragments of ribbons and rags stalked up to me, gravely twisting a child's paper whirligig. Behind him was his servant bending under the load of a crated of mud toys. The two were loading up two camels, and the inhabitants of the Serai watched them with laughter.

‘The
mullah
is mad,' said a horse-dealer to me. ‘He is going up to Kabul to sell toys to the Amir. He will either be raised to honour or have his head cut off. He came in here this morning and has been behaving madly ever since.'

‘The witless are under the protection of God,' stammered a flat-cheeked Usbeg in broken Hindi. ‘They foretell future events.'

‘Would they could have foretold that my caravan would have been cut up by the Shinwaris almost within shadow of the Pass?' grunted the Eusufzai agent of a Rajputana trading-house whose goods had been feloniously diverted into thehands of other robbers just across the Border, and whose misfortunes were the laughing-stock of the
bazar.
Ohé,
mullah,
whence come you and whither do you go?'

‘From Roum have I come,' shouted the
mullah,
waving his whirligig; ‘from Roum, blown by the breath of a hundred devils across the sea! Oh, thieves, robbers, liars, the blessing of Pir Khan on pigs, dogs and perjurers! Who will take the Protected of God to the North to sell charms that are never still to the Amir? The camels shall not gall, the sons shall not fall sick, and the wives shall remain faithful while they are away, of the men who give me place in their caravan. Who will assist me to slipper the King of the Roos with a golden slipper with a silver heel? The protection of Pir Khan be upon his labours!' He spread out the skirts of his gaberdine and pirouetted between the lines of tethered horses.

‘There starts a caravan from Peshawar to Kabul in twenty days, holy father,' said the Eusufzai trader. ‘My camels go therewith. Do thou also go and bring us good luck.'

‘I will go even now!' shouted the
mullah.
‘I will depart on my winged camels, and be at Peshawar in a day! Ho! Hazar Mir Khan,' he yelled to his servant; ‘drive out the camels, but let me first mount my own.'

He leaped on the back of his beast as it knelt, and turning round to me cried: ‘Come thou also,
Sahib
,a little along the road, and I will sell thee a charm – an amulet that shall make thee King of Kafiristan.'

Then the light broke upon me, and I followed the two camels out of the Serai till we reached open road and the
mullah
halted.

‘What d'you think o' that?' said he in English. ‘Carnehan can't talk their patter, so I've made him my servant. He makes a handsome servant. 'Tisn't for nothing that I've been knocking about the country for fourteen years. Didn't I do that talk neat? We'll hitch on to a caravan at Peshawar till we get to Jagdallak, and then we'll see if we can get donkies for our camels, and strike into Kafiristan. Whirligigs for the Amir. O Lor! Put your hand under the camel-bags and tell me what you feel.'

I felt the butt of a Martini, and another and another.

‘Twenty of 'em,' said Dravot placidly. ‘Twenty of 'em, and ammunition to correspond, under the whirligigs and the mud dolls.'

‘Heaven help you if you are caught with those things!' I said. ‘A Martini is worth her weight in silver among the Pathans.'

‘Fifteen hundred rupees of capital – every rupee we could beg, borrow or steal – are invested on these two camels,' said Dravot. ‘We won't get caught. We're going through the Khaiber with a regular caravan. Who'd touch a poor mad
mullah
?'

‘Have you got everything you want,' I asked overcome with astonishment.

‘Not yet, but we shall soon. Give us a memento of your kindness, Brother. You did me a service yesterday, and that time in Marwar. Half my kingdom shall you have, as the saying is.' I slipped a small charm-compass from my watch-chain and handed it up to the
mullah.

‘Good-bye,' said Dravot, giving me his hand cautiously. ‘It's the last time we'll shake hands with an Englishman these many days. Shake hands with him, Carnehan,' he cried, as the second camel passed me.

Carnehan leant down and shook hands. Then the camels passed away along the dusty road and I was left alone to wonder. My eye could detect no failure in the disguises. The scene in the Serai showed that they were complete to the native mind. There was just the chance, therefore, that Carnehan and Dravot would be able to wander through Afghanistan without detection. But, beyond, they would find death, certain and awful death.

Ten days later a native friend of mine, giving me the news of the day from Peshawar, wound up his letter with: ‘There has been much laughter here on account of a certain mad
mullah
who is going in his estimation to sell petty gauds and insignificant trinkets, which he ascribes as great charms, to H. H. the Amir of Afghanistan. He passed through Peshawar and associated himself to the second summer caravan that goes to Kabul. The merchants are pleased because throughsuperstition they imagine that such mad fellows bring good fortune.'

The two, then, were beyond the Border. I would have prayed for them, but, that night, a real King died in Europe and demanded an obituary notice.

The wheel of the world swings through the same phases again and again. Summer passed and winter thereafter, and came and passed again. The daily paper continued and I with it, and upon the third summer there fell a hot night, a night-issue, and a strained waiting for something to be telegraphed from the other side of the world, exactly as had happened before. A few great men had died in the past two years, the machines worked with more clatter, and some of the trees in the office garden were a few feet taller. But that was all the difference.

I passed over to the press room, and went through just such a scene as I have already described. The nervous tension was stronger than it had been two years before, and I felt the heat more acutely. At three o'clock I cried, ‘print off,' and turned to go, when there crept to my chair what was left of a man. He was bent into a circle, his head was sunk between his shoulders, and he moved his feet one over the other like a bear. I could hardly see whether he walked or crawled – this rag-wrapped, whining cripple who addressed me by name, crying that he was come back. ‘Can you give me a drink?' he whimpered: ‘For the Lord's sake give me a drink!'

I went back to the office, the man following with groans of pain, and I turned up the lamp.

‘Don't you know me?' he gasped, dropping into a chair; and he turned his drawn face, surmounted by a shock of grey hair, to the light.

I looked at him intently. Once before had I seen eyebrows that met over the nose in an inch-broad black band, but for the life of me I could not tell where.

‘I don't know you,' I said, handing him the whiskey. ‘What can I do for you.'

He took a gulp of the spirit raw, and shivered in spite of the suffocating heat.

‘I've come back,' he repeated; ‘and I was the King of Kafiristan – me and Dravot – crowned kings we was! In this office we settled it – you setting there and giving us the books. I am Peachey – Peachey Taliaferro Carnehan, and you've been setting here ever since – O Lord!'

I was more than a little astonished and expressed my feelings accordingly.

‘It's true,' said Carnehan, with a dry cackle, nursing his feet which were wrapped in rags. ‘True as gospel. Kings we were, with crowns upon our heads – me and Dravot – poor Dan – oh, poor, poor Dan that would never take advice, not though I begged of him!'

‘Take the whiskey,' I said, ‘and take your own time. Tell me all you can recollect of everything from beginning to end. You got across the Border on your camels, Dravot dressed as a mad
mullah,
and you his servant. Do you remember that?'

‘I ain't mad – yet, but I shall be that way soon. Of course I remember. Keep looking at me, or maybe my words will go all to pieces. Keep looking at me in my eyes and don't say anything.'

I leaned forward and looked into his face as steadily as I could. He dropped one hand upon the table and I grasped it by the wrist. It was twisted like a bird's claw, and upon the back was a ragged, red, diamond-shaped scar.

‘No, don't look there. Look at
me
,'said Carnehan. ‘That comes afterwards, but for the Lord's sake don't distrack me. We left with that caravan, me and Dravot playing all sorts of antics to amuse the people we were with. Dravot used to make us laugh in the evenings when all the people was cooking their dinners – cooking their dinners and … what did they do then? They lit little fires with sparks that went into Dravot's beard, and we all laughed – fit to die. Little red fires they was, going into Dravot's big red beard – so funny.' His eyes left mine and he smiled foolishly. ‘You went as far as Jagdallak with that caravan,' I said at a venture, ‘after you had lit those fires. To Jagdallak where you turned off to try to get into Kafiristan.'‘No we didn't neither. What are you talking about? Weturned off before Jagdallak because we heard the roads was good. But they wasn't good enough for our two camels – mine and Dravot's. When we left the caravan, Dravot took off all his clothes and mine too, and said we would be heathen, because the Kafirs didn't allow Mohammedans to talk to them. So we dressed betwixt and between, and such a sight as Daniel Dravot I never saw yet, nor yet expect to see again. He burned half his beard, and slung a sheep-skin over his shoulder, and shaved his head into patterns. He shaved mine, too, and made me wear outrageous things to look like a heathen. That was in a most mountaineous country, and our camels couldn't go along any more because of the mountains. They were tall and black, and coming home I saw them fight like wild goats – there are lots of goats in Kafiristan. And these mountains they never keep still, no more than the goats. Always fighting they are, and don't let you sleep at night.'