The Adventures of Dick Maitland: A Tale of Unknown Africa Read online

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  Dick MaitlandA Tale of Unknown Africa

  By Harry Collingwood________________________________________________________________________Dick Maitland is working as a doctor's apprentice in the East End ofLondon, at that time a place of great poverty. The doctor with whom heis studying is rather a philanthropist for, instead of setting up tradefor the wealthy, in Harley Street, he is curing the poor for practicallynothing.

  Dick's family circumstances take a turn for the worse, and he goes downto the docks to work his passage to South Africa. He has no idea how hewill proceed when he gets there, having no money, but he meets a richyoung man called Grosvenor on the ship, and, striking up a friendship,they decide upon going together on a voyage of exploration.

  After meeting a tribe whom this author, Collingwood, had written aboutin a previous book, and sorting out various problems there, they proceedon their way. They had heard rumours of a mysterious white race livingnot too far away, and they decide to investigate. These turn out to beone of the lost tribes of Israel. They are eventually accepted there asfriends, after initially being taken prisoners. Here again they areable to sort out various problems. Grosvenor marries the Queen, andDick, who in the course of these travels has managed to find some veryvaluable jewels, eventually returns home with them. He converts themto cash, and is able to provide his poor old mother, whom he had left inabject poverty, with a luxurious style of life. He also puts lots ofmoney in the account of the doctor with whom he had been working beforethese adventures began.________________________________________________________________________DICK MAITLANDA TALE OF UNKNOWN AFRICA

  BY HARRY COLLINGWOOD

  CHAPTER ONE.

  THE CATASTROPHE.

  Doctor Julian Humphreys was spoken of by those who believed that theyknew him best as an eccentric; because, being a physician and surgeon ofquite unusual ability, he chose--possessing a small independenceamounting to a bare three hundred pounds per annum--to establish himselfin the East-End of London, and there devote himself with zeal andenthusiasm to the amelioration of the sufferings of the very poor,instead of capitalising his income and setting up in Harley Street,where his exceptional qualifications would speedily and inevitably havebrought him a handsome fortune.

  An income of three hundred pounds per annum--out of which one has tofeed, clothe, and house oneself--does not afford very much scope for thepractice of philanthropy, as Dr Humphreys very well knew; hisestablishment, therefore, was of very modest dimensions, consistingmerely of three rooms with the usual domestic offices, one room--thefront and largest one--being fitted up as surgery, dispensary, andconsulting room, while, of the other two, one served as a sleepingapartment for himself and his pupil, Mr Richard Maitland, the thirdbeing sacred to Polly Nevis, a sturdy and willing, but somewhat untidyperson, who discharged the united functions of parlour maid, housemaid,chamber maid, cook, and scullery maid to the establishment.

  The large red lamp which shone over Dr Humphreys' door at night was theone and only picturesque feature of Paradise Street--surely so named byan individual of singularly caustic and sardonic humour, for anythingless suggestive of the delights of Paradise than the squalid andmalodorous street so named it would indeed be difficult to conceive--andin the course of the four years during which it had been in positionthat lamp had become a familiar object to every man, woman, and childwithin a radius of at least a mile; for the Doctor's fame had soonspread, and his clientele comprised practically everybody within thatradius.

  The apparently insignificant event that initiated the extraordinaryseries of adventures, of which this is the narrative, occurred about thehour of 8 a.m. on a certain day of September in the year of our Lord19--; and it consisted in the delivery by the postman of a letteraddressed to Mr Richard Maitland, care of Dr J. Humphreys, 19Paradise Street, Whitechapel, E. The letter was addressed in the well-known handwriting of Dick's mother; but the recipient did notimmediately open it, for he was at the moment engaged in assisting theDoctor to dress and bind up the wounds of Mrs William Taylor, whosehusband, having returned home furiously drunk upon the closing of thepublic houses on the previous night, had proceeded to vent his spleenupon his long-suffering wife, because, having no money and nothing thatshe could pawn, she had failed to have a hot supper ready for him uponhis arrival.

  When, however, Mrs Taylor, scarcely recognisable because of thevoluminous bandages that swathed her head and face, and carrying withher a powerful odour of iodoform, was bowed out of the surgery by DrHumphreys, with a reminder--in reply to a murmur that she had no moneyjust then--that she was one of his free patients, and a message from theDoctor to Mr William Taylor, which the poor woman had not the remotestintention to deliver, Dick drew his mother's letter from his pocket andopened it. As he mastered its contents he went white to the lips, aswell he might; for this is what he read:

  The Cedars, 14 South Hill, Sydenham. _September 10th, 19--_.

  "My dear Dick,--

  "I am sorry to be obliged to call you away from your work, but I must ask you to please come home to me as soon as you can possibly get away, for I have just received news of so disastrous a character that I dare not put it upon paper. Besides, I am so distracted that I scarcely know what I am writing, as you will no doubt understand when I tell you that we are ruined--absolutely and irretrievably ruined! Come as soon as you can, my dear, for I feel as though I shall go out of my senses if I cannot soon have someone to counsel me as to what is the best thing to be done under these dreadful circumstances.

  "Your loving but distracted mother,--

  "Edith Maitland."

  "Hillo, Dick! what's the matter?" exclaimed the Doctor, catching aglimpse of his assistant's drawn face and pallid lips as Maitland staredincredulously at the letter in his hand. "Nothing wrong, I hope. Youlook as though you had just seen a ghost!"

  "So I have; the ghosts of--many things," answered Dick. "Unless thisletter is--but no, it is the dear Mater's own handwriting beyond adoubt. Read it, Doctor; there are no secrets in it." And Dick passedthe letter over to Humphreys.

  "Phew!" whistled the Doctor, when he had read the letter twice--from thedate to the signature; "that sounds pretty bad. You had better be offat once, and get at the rights of the thing. And when you have doneso-- By the way, have you any friends with whom you can consult, shouldyou need help or advice of any sort?"

  "Not a soul in the world, so far as I know, unless I may call you afriend, Doctor," answered Dick. "Of course there is Cuthbertson, thefamily solicitor and the sole executor of my father's will; but thesuggestion conveyed by this letter from my mother is that something hassomehow gone wrong with him, and he may not be available."

  "Quite so; he may not, as you say," agreed the Doctor. "In that case,my dear Dick, come back to me after you have become acquainted with allthe facts, and we will discuss the matter together. That you may callme your friend goes without saying, as you ought to know by this time;and although I am only an obscure East-End practitioner I am not whollywithout friends able and willing to do me, or any friend of mine, a goodturn, if necessary. So come back here when you have threshed out thematter, and we will see what--if anything--can be done."

  "Right! I will. And a thousand thanks to you for this fresh evidenceof your kindly feeling toward me," exclaimed Dick, grasping the doctor'shand. "Are you quite sure that you will be able to get along without mefor a few hours?"

&n
bsp; "Absolutely certain," was the cheery reply. "You are a very cleveryoung fellow, Dick, and have proved a marvellously apt pupil since youhave been with me, but I managed this practice single-handed before youcame to me, and I have no doubt I can do it again, if needs be. So beoff with you at once, my lad; for your mother seems to be in sore needof you."

  Five minutes later Dick Maitland had boarded a tramcar, on his way toLondon Bridge railway station, from whence he took train for the CrystalPalace, the nearest station to his mother's home, which he reachedwithin two hours of his departure from Number 19 Paradise Street.

  Now, as Dick Maitland happens to be the hero of this story it isnecessary he should be properly introduced to the reader, and this seemsas appropriate a moment as any.

  To begin with, then, when we caught our first glimpse of him, assistingDr Humphreys to dress and bind up those tokens of affection which MrWilliam Taylor had bestowed upon his wife, Dick Maitland was withinthree months of his eighteenth birthday, a fine, tall, fairly good-looking, and athletic specimen of the young public-school twentieth-century Englishman. He was an only son; and his mother was a widow, herhusband having died when Dick was a sturdy little toddler a trifle overthree years of age. Mrs Maitland had been left quite comfortably off,her husband having accumulated a sufficient sum to bring her in anincome of close upon seven hundred pounds per annum. The provisions ofMr Maitland's will stipulated that the income arising from hiscarefully chosen investments was to be enjoyed by his widow during herlifetime, subject to the proper maintenance and education of their onlyson, Dick; and upon the demise of Mrs Maitland the capital was to go toDick, to be employed by the latter as he might deem fit. But a clausein the will stipulated that at the close of his school career Dick wasto be put to such business or profession as the lad might choose, MrMaitland pithily remarking that he did not believe in drones. But sinceMrs Maitland, although a most excellent woman in every respect, had nohead for business, her husband appointed honest old John Cuthbertson,his own and his father's solicitor, sole executor of his will; and sodied happily, in the full conviction that he had done everything thatwas humanly possible to assure the future welfare of his widow andinfant son. And faithfully had John Cuthbertson discharged his trust,until in the fullness of years he had laid down the burden of life, andhis son Jonas had come to reign in the office in his father's stead.This event had occurred some three years previously, about the time whenDick, having completed his school life, had elected to take up the studyof medicine and surgery.

  This important step had involved many interviews between Mrs Maitlandand "Mr Jonas", as the clerks in his father's office had learned tocall him; for the said Mr Jonas had succeeded to the executorship ofmany wills--Mr Maitland's among them--as well as the other portions ofhis father's business; and so great had been the zeal and interest thathe had displayed during the necessary negotiations, that Mrs Maitlandhad been most favourably impressed. Indeed Jonas Cuthbertson hadhonestly earned the very high opinion that Mrs Maitland had formed ofhim, displaying not only interest and zeal but also a considerableamount of acumen in the matter of Dick's placing. For, when MrsMaitland, perhaps very naturally, expressed the wish that Dick shouldbegin his studies under the guidance of some eminent Harley Streetspecialist, the solicitor strenuously opposed the idea, not only uponthe score of expense, but also because, as he argued, Dick wouldcertainly acquire a wider knowledge of diseases and their cure--andacquire it much more quickly--under some hard-working practitioner amongthe East-End poor of London; and that, as he very truly pointed out, wasthe great desideratum in such a case as Dick's, far outweighing theextra hard work and the sordid surroundings to which Mrs Maitland hadat first so strenuously objected. Moreover, Dick agreed with thesolicitor; and in the end the maternal objections were overcome, carefulenquiries were instituted, and finally Dick found himself installed as apupil in the somewhat Bohemian establishment of Doctor Julian Humphreys,M.D., M.R.C.P., M.R.C.S., and several other letters of the alphabet.And, queer though the arrangement was in many respects, it provedeminently satisfactory to Dick; for Dr Humphreys was not only anextraordinarily able physician and surgeon, but also marvellously cleverand learned outside the bounds of his profession, gentle and tender-hearted as a woman, and a thoroughly good fellow all round, in the bestand highest sense of the term. As for Dick, he displayed from theoutset a quite exceptional aptitude for the noble profession which hehad chosen; study, instead of being irksome, was a pleasure--almost apassion--with him; his nerves were steel, he never for a moment lost hishead even when assisting at the most sickening operation; his touch waslight and sure; and knowledge seemed to come to him intuitively. Nowonder that Doctor Humphreys persistently predicted a brilliant andsuccessful career for his pupil.

  Upon his arrival home Dick found his mother in such an acute state ofdistress that for the first few moments of their interview she seemed tobe quite incapable of making any intelligible statement: she could donothing but weep copiously upon her stalwart son's shoulder and gaspthat they were ruined--utterly and irretrievably ruined! At length,however, the lad managed to extract from Mrs Maitland the statementthat she had seen, in the previous morning's papers, an account of thesuicide of Mr Jonas Cuthbertson, a solicitor; and, judging from thename and other particulars given in the published account, that it mustbe their Mr Cuthbertson, she had hurried up to town and called atCuthbertson's chambers, where her worst apprehensions had receivedcomplete and terrible confirmation. From the particulars supplied byMr Herbert, Cuthbertson's chief clerk, it appeared that "Mr Jonas",after walking worthily in his father's footsteps for two years, hadbecome infected with the gambling craze, and, first losing all his ownmoney, had finally laid hands upon as much of his clients' property ashe could obtain access to, until, his ill luck still pursuing him, hehad lost that also, and then had sought to evade the consequences of hismisdeeds by blowing out his brains with two shots from a revolver. Thisfinal act of folly had been perpetrated two days before the account ofit in the papers had fallen under Mrs Maitland's notice, and in theinterim there had, of course, been time only to make a very cursoryexamination into the affairs of the suicide, but that examination hadsufficed to reveal the appalling fact that every available security,both of his own and of his clients, had disappeared, while sufficientevidence had been discovered to show pretty clearly what had led totheir disappearance.

  This was the sum and substance of Mrs Maitland's somewhat incoherentlytold story, and when Dick had heard it through to the end he had noreason to doubt its truth; but manifestly it was not at all the sort ofstory to be taken upon trust, it must be fully and completelyinvestigated, if only for the purpose of ascertaining whether or notanything, however small, was to be saved from the wreck; accordingly,after partaking of a hasty lunch, young Maitland wended his way to theCity, and there had a most discouraging interview with Mr Herbert, whowas by this time busily engaged upon the preparation of a detailedstatement of the position of affairs, for the information of his lateemployer's clients and creditors. This, Mr Herbert explained, wasproving a task of much less difficulty than he had anticipated, sinceCuthbertson had apparently kept an accurate account of all his gamblingtransactions--some of which had, latterly, been upon a gigantic scale--with the evidently desperate resolution of recovering his former losses,or ruining himself in the attempt, while he had not destroyed any of hispapers, as so many suicides do before perpetrating the final act offolly. The position of affairs, as outlined by Mr Herbert, was gloomyenough, but he made it clear to Dick that for the moment he was speakingwith reserve, as it was impossible for him to say anything of anabsolutely definite character until the investigation--which was beingconducted with the aid of a firm of chartered accountants of highstanding--should be complete.

  Having now ascertained all in connection with the deplorable businessthat was for the moment possible, Dick returned to his mother and didhis best to comfort and encourage her; but, as might have been expected,his efforts met with no very great measure of
success, seeing that therewas practically nothing of a comforting or encouraging character in thestory told him by Jonas Cuthbertson's chief clerk.

  The next morning Dick Maitland returned to Number 19 Paradise Street,where he found his friend Humphreys as busily engaged as ever in hiswork of healing the sick and comforting the sorrowing poor, and receiveda welcome from the cheery, genial medico that seemed to ease hisshoulders of at least half their load of anxiety. But it was not untilwell on towards evening that the claims upon the Doctor's time andattention slackened sufficiently to afford an opportunity for Dick totell his story, which, after all, was only an amplified edition of thestory originally told in Mrs Maitland's letter.

  When at length the tale was fully told, and Humphreys had, by dint ofmuch cross-questioning, fully mastered all its miserable details, he satfor half an hour or more, smoking diligently and silently as heconsidered in what way he could best help his young friend. At length,however, an idea seemed to occur to him, for he looked up and said:

  "Well, Dick, my friend, it sounds about as bad as anything that I haveheard of for many a long day! Why in the world did that fool of alawyer want to meddle with gambling? Why could he not have been contentto devote his energies to the conduct of the business--a first-classone, according to his chief clerk's account--which his father left him,and which would have provided him with a very comfortable living all hisdays and, probably, a snug competency to retire upon when he foundhimself getting too old for work? I tell you what it is, my boy: thismad craving to get rich quickly is one of the great curses of theselatter days. When it once gets a firm grip upon its victim it quicklyconverts the honest, upright man into a conscienceless rogue, who soonbecomes the centre of a widespread circle of ruin and untold misery!Look at this fellow Cuthbertson. He had an honest and honourablefather; and, as I understand you, was, to start with, himself perfectlyhonest and honourable; yet look at him now! What is he? Why, simply adishonoured corpse, hastily huddled away into a suicide's grave; a manwho, having utterly spoiled his life, has presumptuously and prematurelyhurried into the presence of his Maker, burdened not only with the heavyload of his own sin but also with the responsibility for all the ruinand misery which he has left behind him! Moralising, however, will nothelp you, my boy; for if I know anything at all about you it is that youare not the sort of character to make such a horrible mess of your lifeas that poor wretch has done. But now, the question is: What can I doto help you and your respected mother out of this slough into whichanother man's weakness and sin have plunged you both? Not very much, Iam afraid; for I cannot restore to you the property of which you arerobbed. That appears to be gone beyond recall. But I can do this foryou--and it may possibly help you a little--I can give you a letter ofintroduction to a man who is under very heavy obligations to me, andwho--being a thoroughly good fellow--will be more than glad to dischargethose obligations if I will only afford him the opportunity to do so.You shall go to him and give him full and complete particulars of thisterrible misfortune that has befallen you; and if there is anything atall to be saved out of the wreckage, he will save it for you, withoutfee and without reward--for my sake. He, too, is a solicitor, but anhonest one, as many still are, thank God; and it is a solicitor whoseaid will be most useful to you in the unravelling of this tangledskein."

  "I say, Doctor, that is awfully good of you," exclaimed Dick, strugglingto conceal his emotion of gratitude, after the manner of the Englishman,but not altogether succeeding. "If the matter concerned myself alone,"he continued, "I would not let you do this thing for me; but I mustthink of my poor mother, and for her sake must humble my pride andsuppress the assertion of my independence so far as to accept your help,so kindly and generously offered. And here let me say that there is noman on earth whose help I would so willingly accept as yours," heblundered on, dimly conscious that there had been something ofungraciousness in his speech; and so stopped dead, overcome with shameand confusion.

  "That is all right, my dear boy," returned Humphreys, smilingly layinghis hand on Dick's shoulder; "I know exactly how you feel, and veryheartily respect your sense of sturdy independence, which is veryestimable in its way, so long as it is not carried too far. But, as amatter of fact, Dick, none of us is absolutely independent in thisworld, for almost every moment of our lives we are dependent uponsomebody for assistance, in one shape or another, and it is not untilthat assistance is withheld that we are brought to realise the extent towhich we are individually dependent upon our fellow creatures. But I ammoralising again--a habit which seems to be growing upon me since I cameamong these poor folk down here, and have been brought face to face withsuch a vast amount of misery that can be directly traced to ignoranceand crime. Just pass me over that stationery cabinet, will you?Thanks! Now I will write to my friend Graham at once, and you hadbetter call upon him at his chambers in Lincoln's Inn to-morrow morningat ten o'clock sharp, which is about the only hour of the day when youcan be reasonably certain of finding him."

  When Dick called upon Humphreys' friend Graham, upon the followingmorning, and sent in his letter of introduction, he soon had abundantevidence that the rising young solicitor was quite as busy a man as theDoctor had represented him to be; yet he was not too busy to respondpromptly to his friend's claim upon him, actually leaving an important-looking client waiting in his outer office while he interviewed Dick andlistened with the utmost patience to the story which the latter had totell, questioning him occasionally, and making notes of his answers upona writing pad. At length, after an interview of over half an hour'sduration, Graham closed the pad sharply and, rising, extended his handto Dick, saying:

  "Thank you, Mr Maitland. I believe I have now all the essential facts;and you may assure my friend Humphreys that I will take up the case withthe utmost pleasure, and without loss of time; also that I will do mybest for you and your mother. From what you tell me I am inclined toimagine that the wreck of Cuthbertson's affairs will prove to be prettycomplete, therefore I very strongly advise you not to reckon upon mybeing able to save anything for you out of the wreckage; but if thereshould by any chance be anything, you shall have it. And now, goodmorning! I am very pleased to have made your acquaintance; and as soonas I have anything definite to communicate I will write to you.Remember me very kindly to Humphreys. Good morning!"

  The interview was certainly not very encouraging; but on the other handit was by no means disappointing; for Dick had already quite made up hismind that every penny of his mother's money was lost. It was,therefore, a very pleasant surprise to him when, about a fortnightlater, a letter came from Graham announcing that he had succeeded inrescuing close upon five hundred pounds for Mrs Maitland from the ruinsof Cuthbertson's estate, and that the good lady could have the money bypresenting herself at the writer's office and going through certainformalities.