Cry Wolf - Smith Wilbur (книги онлайн без регистрации полностью .TXT) 📗
grinned.
"And yours seems to be Scottish she's wearing a sporran, by God."
"Jake, we've got to make a decision. Do we go or don't we?"
"Action first, decisions later. Let's engage the targets."
"Right," Gareth agreed, realizing the futility of discussion at this
moment. "Driver advance."
"Gunner. Traverse right. Steady. On. Independent rapid fire."
"Shoot!" cried Gareth, and the conversation languished.
It was half an hour before it was resumed, with the two of them in
shirt sleeves, braces dangling and black ties discarded, poring over a
large-scale map of the East African coast that Madame Cecile had
produced.
"There's a thousand miles of unguarded coast line." Gareth traced the
great horn of Africa in the light of the Petromax lamp and then ran his
finger inland. "And this is marked as semi-desert all the way to the
border. We aren't likely to run into a crowd."
"It's a hell of a way to make a living, "said Jake.
"Are we going then?" Gareth looked up.
"You know we are."
"Yes," Gareth laughed. "I know we are.
Fifteen thousand sovereigns say we have to." ij Mikhael received their
decision with a curt nod and then asked, "Have you planned yet how you
will accomplish this task? Perhaps I can be of assistance, I know the
coast well and most of the routes to the interior." He gestured for
one of his advisers to spread a map upon the stateroom table. Jake ran
his finger across it, as he spoke.
"We thought to hire a shallowdraughted vessel here in Dares
Salaam, and make a landing somewhere in this area.
Then to load the cases on the cars, and, carrying our own fuel,
run directly inland to some prearranged rendezvous with your people."
"Yes," agreed the Prince. "The basic idea is right. But I should
avoid British territory. They maintain a very intensive patrol system
to discourage the export of slaves from their territory to the East.
No, keep clear of British Somaliland. The French territory is more
suitable." They plunged into the planning of the expedition, both Jake
and Gareth realizing swiftly how lightly they had discounted the
difficulties that faced them, and how valuable was the Prince's
advice.
"Your landing will be one of the critical stages. There is a tidal
fall of almost twenty feet on this coast and an unfavorable shelving of
the bottom. However, at this point about forty miles north of Jibuti
there is an ancient harbour called Month. It's not marked on the
chart. It was one of the centres of the slave trade before its
abolition, like Zanzibar and Mozambique Island. It was stormed and
sacked by a British force in 1842. The port is without fresh water and
since then it has been deserted. Yet it has a deep-water channel and a
good approach to the shore. This would be a suitable place to land the
vehicles an awkward task without good wharfage and overhead cranes."
Gareth was scribbling notes on a sheet of Union Castle notepaper,
while
Jake leaned attentively over the chart.
"What about patrols in this area?" he asked, and the Prince
shrugged.
"There is a battalion of the Ugion ttrang&e at Jibuti and they send an
occasional camel patrol through this area.
The odds are much against an encounter."
"Those are the kind of odds I like," muttered Gareth.
"Once we are ashore what then?" The Prince touched the map.
"You should then move parallel with the border of Italian Eritrea - a
southwesterly heading until you encounter the swamp area where the
Awash River sinks into the desert. Then turn directly westwards and
you will cross the French Somali border and enter the Danakil country
of Ethiopia. I will arrange to meet your column here-" He turned to
his group of elderly advisers and asked a question. Immediately an
animated and high-volume discussion broke out, at the end of which
the
Prince turned back to them with a smile.
"We seem to be in general agreement that the rendezvous should be at
the Wells of Chaldi here." He showed them the map again. "As you can
see, it is well within Ethiopian territory. This will suit my
Government as well for the cars will be used in the defence of the
Sardi Gorge and the road to Dessie in the event of an Italian offensive
in that direction-" The Prince was interrupted by one of his advisers
and he listened for a few minutes before nodding in agreement and
turning back to the two white men. "It has been suggested that as your
journey from Month to the Wells of Chaldi will be through trackless
desert country some areas of which would be impassable to wheeled
vehicles we should provide you with a guide who knows the area-"
"That's more like it, "Jake growled with relief.
"That's absolutely splendid, Toffee," agreed Gareth.
"Very well. The young man I have chosen is a relative of mine, a
nephew. He speaks English well, having also spent three years at
school in England, and he knows the area through which you will be
travelling, as he has often hunted the lion there as a guest of a chief
in French territory." He spoke to one of the advisers in Amharic, and
the man nodded and left the cabin. "I have sent for him now. His name
is Gregorius Maryam." When he came, Gregorius was a young man probably
in his early twenties. However, he was almost as tall as his uncle
with the warrior's fierce dark eyes and eagle features but his skin was
smooth and hairless as a girl's, the colour of pale honey. He also was
dressed in Western European fashion, and his expression was intense and
intelligent.
His uncle spoke to him quietly in Amharic and he nodded, then turned to
meet Jake and Gareth.
"My uncle has explained what is required of me and I am honoured to be
of service." Gregorius's voice was clear and eager.
"Can you drive a motor car?" Jake asked unexpectedly, and
Gregorius smiled and nodded.
"Indeed, sir. I have my own Morgan sports car in Addis Ababa."
"That's great." Jake returned the smile. "But you'll find an armoured
car a rougher ride."
"Gregorius will pack what he needs for the journey, and join you
immediately. As you know, this ship sails at noon," observed the
Prince, and the young Ethiopian nobleman bowed to his uncle and left
the cabin.
"You now owe me a favour, Major Swales, and I request repayment
immediately." Lij Mikhael turned back to Gareth, whose complacency
evaporated immediately, to be replaced by an expression of mild
alarm.
Gareth had developed a healthy respect for the Prince's ability to
drive a bargain.
"Now listen here, old chap-" he began to protest, but the Prince went
on as though there had been no interruption.
"One of the few weapons that my country has to exploit is the
conscience of the civilized world-"
"I wouldn't give you much change for that," observed Jake.
"No," agreed the Prince sadly. "Not a very effective weapon as yet.
But if we can only inform the world of the injustices and unprovoked
aggression which we suffer then we can force the democratic nations to
come to our support.
