Mike Resnick - Bully!

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Bully!
Mike Resnick
A DF Books NERDs Release
Copyright ©1990 by Mike Resnick
First published in Axolotl Press, 1990
ISBN 1-930936-49-4
I.
The date was January 8, 1910. * * * *
"At midnight we had stopped at the station of Koba, where we were warmly received
by the district commissioner, and where we met half a dozen of the professional
elephant hunters, who for the most part make their money, at hazard of their lives, by
poaching ivory in the Congo. They are a hard-bit set, these elephant poachers; there
are few careers more adventurous, or fraught with more peril, or which make heavier
demands upon the daring, the endurance, and the physical hardihood of those who
follow them. Elephant hunters face death at every turn, from fever, from the assaults
of warlike native tribes, from their conflicts with their giant quarry; and the unending
strain on their health and strength is tremendous."
—Theodore Roosevelt, AFRICAN GAME TRAILS
"...When we were all assembled in my tent and champagne had been served out to
everyone except Roosevelt—who insisted on drinking non-intoxicants, though his son
Kermit joined us—he raised his glass and gave the toast ‘To the Elephant Poachers
of the Lado Enclave.’ As we drank with him one or two of us laughingly protested his
bluntness, so he gravely amended his toast to ‘The Gentleman Adventurers of Central
Africa', ‘for,’ he added, ‘that is the title by which you would have been known in
Queen Elizabeth's time.'
"A real man, with the true outdoor spirit, the ex-President's sympathy with and real
envy of the life we were leading grew visibly as the evening advanced; and he finally
left us with evident reluctance. I, for one, was shaken by the hand three times as he
made for the door on three separate occasions; but each time, after hesitatingly
listening to the beginning of some new adventure by one of the boys, he again sat
down to hear another page from our every-day life. We even urged him to chuck all
his political work and come out like the great white man he was, and join us. If he
would do this, we promised to put a force under his command to organize the hunting
and pioneering business of Central Africa, and perhaps make history. He was, I
believe, deeply moved by this offer; and long afterwards he told a friend that no
honor ever paid him had impressed and tempted him like that which he received from
the poachers of the Lado Enclave."
—John Boyes, COMPANY OF ADVENTURERS
* * * *
Roosevelt walked to the door of the tent, then paused and turned back to face Boyes.
“A force, you say?” he asked thoughtfully, as a lion coughed and a pair of hyenas
laughed maniacally in the distance.
“That's right, Mr. President,” said Boyes, getting to his feet. “I can promise you at
least fifty men like ourselves. They may not be much to look at, but they'll be men
who aren't afraid to work or to fight, and each and every one of them will be loyal to
you, sir.”
“Father, it's getting late,” called Kermit from outside the tent.
“You go along,” said Roosevelt distractedly. “I'll join you in a few minutes.” He
turned back to Boyes. “Fifty men?”
“That's right, Mr. President.”
“Fifty men to tame the whole of Central Africa?” mused Roosevelt.
Boyes nodded. “That's right. There's seven of us right here; we could have the rest
assembled inside of two weeks.”
“It's very tempting,” admitted Roosevelt, trying to surpress a guilty smile. “It would
be a chance to be both a boy and a President again.”
“The Congo would make one hell of a private hunting preserve, sir,” said Boyes.
The American was silent for a moment, and finally shook his massive head. “It
couldn't be done,” he said at last. “Not with fifty men.”
“No,” said Boyes. “I suppose not.”
“There are no roads, no telephones, no telegraph lines.” Roosevelt paused, staring at
the flickering lanterns that illuminated the interior of the tent. “And the railway ends
in Uganda.”
“No access to the sea, either,” agreed Boyes pleasantly, as the lion coughed again
and a herd of hippos started bellowing in the nearby river.
“No,” said Roosevelt with finality. “It simply couldn't be done—not with fifty men,
not with five thousand.”
Boyes grinned. “Not a chance in the world.”
“A man would have to be mad to consider it,” said Roosevelt.
“I suppose so, Mr. President,” said Boyes.
Roosevelt nodded his head for emphasis. “Totally, absolutely mad.”
“No question about it,” said Boyes, still grinning at the burly American. “When do
we start?”
“Tomorrow morning,” said Roosevelt, his teeth flashing as he finally returned
Boyes's grin. “By God, it'll be bully!”
II.
“Father?”
Roosevelt, sitting on a chair in front of his tent, continued staring through his
binoculars.
“Kermit, you're standing in front of a lilac-breasted roller and a pair of crowned
cranes.”
Kermit didn't move, and finally Roosevelt put his binoculars down on a nearby table.
He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and began scribbling furiously.
“Remarkable bird viewing here,” he said as he added the roller and the cranes to his
list. “That's 34 species I've seen today, and we haven't even had breakfast yet.” He
looked up at his son. “I love these chilly Ugandan nights and mornings. They remind
me of the Yellowstone. I trust you slept well?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Wonderful climate,” said Roosevelt. “Just wonderful!”
“Father, I'd like to speak to you for a few moments, if I may.”
Roosevelt carefully tucked the notebook back into his breast pocket. “Certainly,” he
replied. “What would you like to talk about?”
Kermit looked around, found another canvas chair, carried it over next to his father,
and sat down on it.
“This entire enterprise seems ill-conceived, Father.”
Roosevelt seemed amused. “That's your considered opinion, is it?”
“One man can't civilize a country half the size of the United States,” continued
Kermit. “Not even you.”
“Kermit, when I was twelve years old, the best doctors in the world told me I'd
always be underweight and sickly,” said Roosevelt. “But when I was nineteen, I was
the lightweight boxing champion of Harvard.”
“I know, Father.”
“Don't interrupt. People told me I couldn't write a proper sentence, but I've written
twenty books, and four of them have been best-sellers. They told me that politics was
no place for a young man, but when I was 24 I was Speaker of the House of the New
York State Legislature. They told me that law and order had no place in the West, but
I went out and single-handedly captured three armed killers in the Dakota Bad Lands
during the Winter of the Blue Snow.” Roosevelt paused. “Even my Rough Riders said
we couldn't take San Juan Hill; I took it.” He stared at his son. “So don't tell me what
I can't do, Kermit.”
“But this isn't like anything else you've done,” persisted Kermit.
“What better reason is there to do it?” said Roosevelt with a delighted grin.
“But—”
“Ex-Presidents are supposed to sit around in their rocking chairs and only come out
for parades. Well, I'm 51 years old, and I'm not ready to retire yet. Another
opportunity like this may never come along.” Roosevelt gazed off to the west, toward
the Congo. “Think of it, Kermit! More than half a million square miles, filled with
nothing but animals and savages and a few missionaries. The British and French and
Portugese and Belgians and Italians all have had their chance at this continent; Africa
ought to have one country developed by someone who will bring them American
know-how and American democracy and American values. We're a rustic, frontier
race ourselves; who better to civilize yet another frontier?” He paused, envisioning a
future that was as clear to him as the present. “And think of the natural resources!
We'll turn it into a protectorate, and give it favored nation trading status. There's
lumber here to build thirty million houses, and where we've cleared the forests away
we'll create farms and cities. It will be America all over again—only this time there
will be no slavery, no genocide practiced against an indigenous people, no slaughter
of the buffalo. I'll use America not as a blueprint, but as a first draft, and I'll learn
from our past mistakes.”
“But itisn't another America, Father,” said Kermit. “It's a harsh, savage country,
filled with hundreds of tribes whose only experience with white men is slavery.”
“Then they'll be happy to find a white man who is willing to redress the balance,
won't they?” replied Roosevelt with a confident smile.
“What about the legalities involved?” persisted Kermit. “The Congo is a Belgian
colony.”
“They've had their chance, and they've muddled it badly.” Roosevelt paused.
“Suppose you letme worry about the Belgians.”
Kermit seemed about to argue the point, then realized the fruitlessness of further
debate. “All right,” he said with a sigh.
“Was there anything else?”
“Yes,” said Kermit. “What do you know about this man Boyes?”
“The man's a true pioneer,” said Roosevelt admiringly. “He should have been an
American.”
Kermit shook his head. “The man's a scalawag.”
“That's your conclusion after being wined and dined in his tent for a single evening?”
“No, Father. But while you were taking your morning walk and watching birds, I was
talking to some of his companions about him. They thought they were bragging about
him, and telling me stories that would impress me—but what I heard gave me a true
picture of the man.”
“For example?” asked Roosevelt.
“He's always in trouble—with the law, with the British army, with the Colonial
Office.” Kermit paused. “They've tried to deport him from East Africa twice. Did you
know that?”
“Certainly I know it,” answered Roosevelt. Suddenly he grinned and pointed to a
small book that was on the table next to his binoculars. “I spent most of the night
reading his memoirs. Remarkable man!”
“Then you know that the British government arrested him for...” Kermit searched for
the word.
“Dacoity?”
Kermit nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you know what it means?” asked his father.
“No,” admitted Kermit.
“In this particular case, it means that he signed a treaty with the Kikuyu and got them
to open their land to white settlement, and some higher-up in the Colonial government
felt that Mr. Boyes was usurping his authority.” Roosevelt chuckled. “So they sent a
squad of six men into Kikuyuland to arrest him, and they found him surrounded by
five thousand armed warriors. And since none of the arresting officers cared very
much for the odds, Mr. Boyes volunteered to march all the way to Mombasa on his
own recognizance.” Roosevelt paused and grinned. “When he walked into court with
his five thousand Kikuyu, the case was immediately thrown out.” He laughed. “Now,
that's a story that could have come out of our own Wild West.”
“There were other stories, too, Father,” said Kermit. “Less savory stories.”
“Good,” said Roosevelt. “Then he and I will have something to talk about on the way
to the Congo.”
“You know, of course, that he's the so-called White King of the Kikuyu.”
“And I'm an honorary Indian chief. We have a lot in common.”
“You have nothing in common,” protested Kermit. “Youhelped our Indians. Boyes
became king through deceit and treachery.”
“He walked into a savage kingdom that had never permitted a white man to enter it
before, and within two years he became the king of the entire Kikuyu nation. That's
just the kind of man I need for the work at hand.”
“But Father—”
“This is a harsh, savage land, Kermit, and I'm embarking on an enterprise that is
neither for the timid nor the weak,” said Roosevelt with finality. “He's the man I
want.”
“You're certain that you won't reconsider?”
Roosevelt shook his head. “The subject is closed.”
Kermit stared at his father for a long moment, then sighed in defeat.
“What shall I tell Mother?”
“Edith will understand,” said Roosevelt. “She has always understood. Tell her I'll
send for her as soon as I've got a proper place to house us all.” Suddenly he grinned
again. “Maybe we should send for your sister Alice immediately. If there's any native
opposition, she can terrify them into submission, just the way she used to do with my
Cabinet.”
“I'm being serious, Father.”
“So am I, Kermit. America's never had an empire, and doesn't want one—but I made
us a world power, and if I can increase our influence on a continent where we've yet
to gain a foothold, then it's my duty to do so.”
“And it'll be such fun,” suggested Kermit knowingly.
Roosevelt flashed his son another grin. “It will be absolutely bully!”
Kermit stared at his father for a moment. “If I can't talk you out of this enterprise, I
wish you'd let me stay here with you.”
Roosevelt shook his head. “Someone has to make sure all the trophies we've taken
get to the American Museum on schedule. Besides, if we both stay here, the press will
be sure I died during the safari. You've got to go back and tell them about the work
I'm doing here.” Suddenly he frowned. “Oh, and you'll have to see my editor at
Scribner's and tell him that I'll be a little late on the safari manuscript. I'll start
working on it as soon as we set up a permanent camp.” He paused again. “Oh, yes.
Before you woke up this morning, I gave a number of letters to Mr. Cunninghame,
who will accompany you for the remainder of the journey. I want you to mail them
when you get back to the States. The sooner we get some engineers and heavy
equipment over here, the better.”
“Heavy equipment?”
“Certainly. We've got a lot of land to clear and a railway to build.” A superb starling
walked boldly up to the mess tent, looking for scraps, and Roosevelt instantly
withdrew his notebook and began scribbling again.
“The Congo's in the middle of the continent,” Kermit pointed out. “It will be very
difficult to bring in heavy equipment from the coast.”
“Nonsense,” scoffed Roosevelt. “The British disassembled their steamships,
transported them in pieces, and then reassembled them on Lake Victoria and Lake
Nyasa. Are you suggesting that Americans, who could build the Panama Canal and
crisscross an entire continent with railroads, can't find a way to transport bulldozers
and tractors to the Congo?” He paused. “You just see to it that those letters are
delivered. The rest will take care of itself.”
Just then Boyes approached them.
“Good morning, Mr. Boyes,” said Roosevelt pleasantly. “Are we ready to leave?”
“We can break camp whenever you wish, Mr. President,” said Boyes. “But one of
our natives tells me there's a bull elephant carrying at least one hundred and thirty
pounds a side not five miles from here.”
“Really?” said Roosevelt, standing up excitedly. “Is he certain? I never saw ivory
that large in Kenya.”
“This particular boy's not wrong very often,” answered Boyes. “He says this bull is
surrounded by three or fouraskaris —young males—and that he's moving southeast.
If we were to head off inthat direction"—he pointed across the river to an expanse of
dry, acacia-studded savannah—"we could probably catch up with him in a little less
than three miles.”
“Have we time?” asked Roosevelt, trying unsuccessfully to hide his eagerness.
Boyes smiled. “The Congo's been waiting for someone to civilize it for millions of
years, Mr. President. I don't suppose another day will hurt.”
Roosevelt turned to his son and shook his hand. “Have a safe trip, Kermit. If I bag
this elephant, I'll have his tusks sent on after you.”
“Good-bye, Father.”
Roosevelt gave the young man a hug, and then went off to get his rifle.
“Don't worry, son,” said Boyes, noting the young man's concern. “We'll take good
care of your father. The next time you see him, he'll be the King of the Congo.”
“President,” Kermit corrected him.
“Whichever,” said Boyes with a shrug.
III.
It took Roosevelt six hours to catch up with his elephant, and the close stalk and kill
took another hour. The rest of the day was spent removing the tusks and—at the ex-
President's insistance—transporting almost three hundred pounds of elephant meat to
the porters who had remained with Kermit.
It was too late to begin the trek to the Congo that day, but their little party was on the
march shortly after sunrise the next morning. The savannah slowly changed to
woodland, and finally, after six days, they came to the Mountains of the Moon.
“You're a remarkably fit man, Mr. President,” remarked Boyes, as they made their
first camp in a natural clearing by a small, clear stream at an altitude of about 6,000
feet.
“A healthy mind and a healthy body go hand-in-hand, John,” replied Roosevelt. “It
doesn't pay to ignore either of them.”
“Still,” continued Boyes, “once we cross the mountains, I think we'll try to find some
blooded horses to ride.”
“Blooded?” repeated Roosevelt.
“Horses that have already been bitten by the tsetse fly and survived,” answered
Boyes. “Once they've recovered from the disease, they're immune to it. Such animals
are worth their weight in gold out here.”
“Where will we find them, and how much will they cost?”
“Oh, the Belgian soldiers will have some,” answered Boyes easily. “And they'll cost
us two or three bullets.”
“I don't understand.”
Boyes grinned. “We'll kill a couple of elephants and trade the ivory for the horses.”
“You're a resourceful man, Mr. Boyes,” said Roosevelt with an appreciative grin.
“Out here a white man's either resourceful or he's dead,” answered Boyes.
“I can well imagine,” replied Roosevelt. He stared admiringly at the profusion of
birds and monkeys that occupied the canopied forest that surrounded the clearing.
“It's beautiful up here,” he commented. “Pleasant days, brisk nights, fresh air, clear
running water, game all around us. A man could spend his life right here.”
“Somemen could,” said Boyes. “Not men like us.”
“No,” agreed Roosevelt with a sigh. “Not men like us.”
“Still,” continued Boyes, “there's no reason why we can't spend two or three days
here. We'll be meeting our party on the other side of the mountains, but they probably
won't arrive for another week to ten days. It will take time for word of our enterprise
to circulate through the Lado.”
“Good!” said Roosevelt. “It'll give me time to catch up on my writing.” He paused.
“By the way, where did you plan to pitch my tent?”
“Wherever you'd like it.”
“As close to the stream as possible,” answered Roosevelt. “It's really quite a lovely
sight to wake up to.”
摘要：

Bully!MikeResnickADFBooksNERDsReleaseCopyright©1990byMikeResnickFirstpublishedinAxolotlPress,1990ISBN1-930936-49-4I.ThedatewasJanuary8,1910.****"AtmidnightwehadstoppedatthestationofKoba,wherewewerewarmlyreceivedbythedistrictcommissioner,andwherewemethalfadozenoftheprofessionalelephanthunters,whofort...

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