The Urn by G Wells Taylor

Author:G Wells Taylor [Taylor, G Wells]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dracula, vampire, undead, nosferatu, adventure, apes, tarzan
Publisher: Wildclown.com
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

LATER - Of note, Captain Banks himself has come to my room and offered an apology for the behavior of the British hunters. I had asked one of his crew earlier in the day if I could have my meals delivered to my cabin, and that I would be happy to pay any extra fee that the service might require.

The captain had already been planning to speak with me when he received my request. It seems that the old woman in the dining room had been upset by the hunters’ treatment of me in front of her grandchildren and had complained to the captain herself the night before.

Captain Banks had looked grim after agreeing to have my food brought to my room. His full lips were twisted with irony as he mused.

“The greatness of Europe.” He laughed. His English was fine, but he had a curious accent that I could not place. “Civilization!”

The captain’s dark eyes had regarded me humorlessly as he said: “Those British hunters would not want Leopold’s ‘civilized’ jaws set about their throats. His ‘civilizing’ mission is a savage sport that ravages the African lands. He made it a bloody butcher shop, and so it remains.”

I nodded, although the name of Leopold was unfamiliar to me.

“Only slaves, ivory and rubber interest the ‘civilized’ world,” Banks had sneered. “Despite the fact that the price for these things is blood.”

The captain hoped that the episode in the dining room would not be repeated, and said that he would speak to the hunters and vouch for my safety personally.

Then he had sniffed at the air.

“Smoke,” he declared, eyes searching the ceiling as his nose twitched. “But I smell a touch of rot.” He looked at me. “And peppermint.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” I answered.

“Let me know if you do,” Captain Banks said, shrugging.

In the dim light from the porthole and my lamp, the captain’s brown skin and features had taken on an otherworldly glow that gave me comfort in their strength and natural beauty.

I thanked him by wringing his sinewy hand with both of mine before he repeated that he would have my meals sent to my room at no extra charge, but that I must remember that I would always be welcome in the mess.

Of course, I could not go back there. My mission was of too much importance to risk any violent incident that might endanger its outcome.

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