A Spear of Summer Grass - By Deanna Raybourn Page 0,46

went on quietly consuming his food, chewing quite slowly, perhaps because of the molar Ryder had knocked out. Only Sybil showed a reaction, a tiny smile she could not quite suppress. Jude looked as remote as ever, and I wondered if she was even grateful to Ryder for what he had done.

“Probably out with the Kukes again,” the doctor put in.

I looked up and Rex smiled at me. “Ryder is famous in these parts for his devotion to the native tribes. Although I think you’ve got it wrong there, Bunny. He’s a Masai man, through and through.”

The doctor shrugged. “As if one needed to know the difference.”

“I’m surprised anyone could confuse them,” I offered. “There are Kikuyu and Masai both at Fairlight and they don’t look at all alike, not really.” The Kikuyu were shorter, with rounder faces and limbs for the most part, while Gideon was tall and slender, his muscles long, his face fine-boned.

“Perhaps not,” the doctor conceded, “but they are all troublesome devils.”

I glanced about the table to find mixed reactions—boredom from the women, studied nonchalance from the men and a glimmer of warning from Dora not to start trouble. Kit alone was watching me with something like amused anticipation. It was the same expression I’d seen on my grandfather before he headed out to watch a cockfight.

“If they’re troublesome perhaps it’s because white people brought the trouble to them.”

Mr. Halliwell put down his fork. “An excellent point, Miss Drummond. Certainly the arrival of whites in the colony has changed the balance of power. But there were always conflicts, always warfare and bloodshed amongst these people. Why, even during our Great War, the Masai and the Bantu fought a vicious war that is still talked about. It is our duty to show them another way.”

“Bloody nonsense,” the doctor said, raising his glass to drink deeply. It was his fourth and the more he drank the more his hands shook. I made a mental note to stay healthy while I was in Africa. There was no way I wanted those plump trembling hands anywhere near me. “They’ve no understanding and no capacity for understanding. The kindest thing is to keep them in a place where they can be watched over by those who know best and left to sort out their own troubles.” He turned to me with a sly look. “I think you Americans had the right idea putting your natives onto reservations. It’s worked out well enough for you lot, hasn’t it?”

I ignored him and directed my attention to our host. “You’ve been here the longest, Rex. Do you agree that we have a moral duty to civilize the natives? Or do you think they ought to be pushed onto reservations?” I asked.

He paused and when he spoke, his answer was thoughtfully crafted. “I think the question of duty is one for men in comfortable London meeting rooms to debate. Out here there is only the truth.”

“And what is the truth?” I persisted.

“That Africa is a hard place, a very hard place. But it is full of promise, a land of such immense beauty and possibility that every man is a new Adam. Those who have lived here for centuries have lived simply, too simply. The land is not managed, and because of this, disease and animals take their toll upon the population and poverty runs rampant. We can fix that and we must if the whites are to thrive here. We are the builders of empire, my dear. We bring roads and schools, medicine and good food. We have the power to save the lives of children and, if we’re lucky, to put a few pounds in the bank against a rainy day. We can make a better life for everyone in Africa, and we need not choose to be either saints or devils to do it,” he added, looking from the doctor to the missionary. “We are but men, the sons of Seth, inheritors of this vast new Eden, this little paradise.”

It reeked of Shakespeare, but it was a good speech altogether. The doctor raised his glass high and shouted, “The sons of Seth!” slurring only slightly on the s’s.

Everyone else joined in the toast, and when it was drunk, Helen waggled a flirtatious finger at her husband. “And don’t you leave us out, Rex. It’s not just the men who will make over Africa. We women have a role to play, too.”

“Of course you do, my darling,” he said with a fond smile.

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