This is the first time that the Knolly Estate has allowed the great man's memoirs to be published. What follows is the twenty first chapter of 'The African Adventure'.

Mrs DeVries Part 5

I turned around to see the cause of Bertie’s exclamation. Indeed the room did have a bed, but what Bertie was had stubbed his toe on was one of 30 or so metallic grey cylinders marked N20…..Nitrous Oxide.

“Well Bertie, we know what they do for a depraved evening’s entertainment in this part of the world”.

“Or, Mrs Devries may be doing a favour for some dentists she knows?”

“Bertie, just because the fashion for “laughing gas evenings” has faded away back home, south of the Equator it could well be at its height”.

“Well I was right about the other staircase!”

“Look Bertie, we know Kite’s been in this part of the world before us and he used to have this stuff with him as part of his “nitrous oxide capers”. It explains the interest in his balloon, maybe they are running low and thought we’d have some with us.”

“I prefer my dentist idea. Hang on though, what was Mrs Devries doing up on this floor earlier, preparing something for tonight I’ll bet”.

“You could be right, but what starts out as a bit of harmless experimentation can only lead on to far worse. We’ll keep mum on this for the time being. Come on time we were at the officers mess, but first we’ll swing back past our rooms and pick up some of Hobbes “all purpose antidotes”. There is no way I want even a sniff of that stuff on a full stomach.

We eventually found our way to the officers mess, although In daylight the following day we discovered a much more direct route that avoided the maids quarters and the stable yard (Bertie’s navigation may be fine and dandy when he’s in a balloon , but around an estate.....) Still all things said and done we weren’t the last to arrive, Monty, Doc, Stumpy and the others we’d met on our ride across the veldt were there as were some others whose acquaintance we had yet to make. They did give us a rather strange look as we climbed out of a celler door beneath the stairs but the batmen on duty were totally unfussed and offered as both a glass of champers as we dusted the cobwebs out of our hair. Of Colonel Nix there was no sign nor as yet was Elspeth, we did not have to wait long for her to make an appearance from a route I assume we should have used.

Elspeth appeared to glide down the sweeping main staircase. She was a picture, an absolute masterpiece in the dress she’d been given that day and it was an honour for Bertie and me to accompany her to the dinner.

She led the way to the dining hall, where Rhodes, Jameson and others all were stood to attention waiting for her. There was an acapella rendition of "God Save The Queen" followed by "Three Cheers for Elspeth" (sponsored by Jameson), and then we took our seats. Elspeth sat between Bertie and me; Rhodes and Jameson were directly opposite.

I was impressed, nay stunned, by the decoration of the hall, the furniture, the crockery, the cutlery and the crystal; it would not have looked out of place at the grandest of royal courts.

"I must say, Elspeth. You have certainly pushed the boat out here", I remarked.
"Not at all, Knolly. You should see it when we get the posh stuff out", she teased with a wink.

Elspeth had also spared nothing in the provision of entertainment for the evening. It was in the main impressive and splendidly cosmopolitan.

Native Africans surpisingly were championed by the 12-man Zulu chorus "Ehspa N'dau
Bahleh".singing songs that seemed to be about gold, being true and the seaside although I may have translated that wrong at the time. The more recent inhabitants of the African continent were represented by "Die Boerewors Brudern, a string quartet composed of farmers of gigantic proportions - all brothers - from deep in the African countryside.

The Americas were represented by the celebrated wind-based talents of Paraguayan nose-flautist Juan Quer. The Indian subcontinent was represented by Kohli Kalumbu, a musical - and it has to be said, painfully lean - contortionist whose unique finale included the ability to play the euphonium from the inside.

And last, and by every means least, the Asian and European entertainers were
Mr Wie Pai of Peking and Mr Ernie Masche of Stuttgart who were due to play selections from the works of Beethoven on the spoons with much deftness and dexterity. As it turned out, Pai and Masche were itinerant salesmen who had bribed, blagged and bullied their way into the grand house in the hope of becoming sole insurance agents to the colonial and business staffs of Rhodes. Monty and Stumpy were onto their caper during the aperitifs and marched them off of the premises - but not before they had been sold comprehensive policies to insure against loss of earnings through the debilitating condition of saddle-sores.

So ... the sumptuous feast got underway as the Zulus finished their haunting Hymn of Blessing "Hwekme upbif oru go'hgo". The Chaplain led us all in a prayer of thankfulness and I'm-not-worthy, and then we set about the opening course to the accompaniment of the fiddling Veldt farmers.

It did not take long for Rhodes and Jameson to start openly espousing ideas - dangerous ideas, radical ideas - the tone and pitch of their speech deliberately intended to draw more and more attention from the assembled throng. As much as we disliked them and their ideals, even we had to admit that the pair were charismatic, charming and engaging. They knew how to work a crowd, how to give certain people what they wanted. Or rather, what Rhodes and Jameson *told* them that they *thought* wanted. If you see what I mean.

Rhodes intoned "I make no secret of the fact that I want Britannia to rule the waves ... and all the hard bits in-between!" There was laughter from the acolytes, sycophants and converts; there was tolerance of his ideals from the more worldly-wise of us amongst the party.

The haunting nose-flute melody that hung in the air stopped abruptly as Juan Quer’s flute become stuck in his left nostril. Rhodes continued.
"The world is already a better place for the presence of the British. It can be improved, and it should be improved. We should spread our culture, our knowledge, our industry, our science, our arts - our very essence - to the ends of the Earth. It is God's will. Some people want to paint the town red; I believe that we should paint the whole globe red!"

There were shouts of "Hear, Hear !", bursts of raucous applause and plenty of clinking of crystal.

Bertie blinked :

"HE'S LEFT OUT THE BIT ABOUT THE INEVITABLE ARMED CONFLICTS REQUIRED TO ACHIEVE THESE ENDS"

I responded :

"HMMM. AND THE BIT ABOUT LINING HIS OWN POCKETS".


Bertie blinked again :

"THEY ARE A COUPLE OF GITS, AREN'T THEY ?"

Jameson sketched recognisable landmasses on unfolded napkins, indicating locations of important resources, the best routes for railroads and canals, and likely spots for industrial manufactories, naval bases and army camps.

I noticed that Bertie was also busy with a napkin. He looked satisfied with his work, rolled it up and passed it to me behind Elspeth's back. It was obviously an important and sensitive message. I discretely unrolled the pure white linen to reveal the following message :


"Do you know that CECIL RHODES is an anagram of “RE: CLICHÉ SOD” ?
And are you aware that LEANDER STARR JAMESON is an anagram of ANAL DEMON JEERS ?
Can't wait for the Port".

I smiled to myself as I put this subversive document into my pocket.

Elspeth could sense my irritation at Rhodes' frequent inflammatory discourses and made a welcome distraction. She leaned close. "Knolly ? What do you think of the food ?".
It was indeed most splendid fayre - based largely upon the flora and fauna of
Africa and included delicacies such as ape suzette, chimpolatas, rhinoceros biltong with tsetse fly glaze, giraffe tonsils on a bed of wilted veldtweed, zebra kebabs (alternately coloured black and white), barbecued centipede drumsticks, and racks of snake spare ribs. Our frequent forays to the “Back of Beyond” meant that Bertie and I had found ourselves in situations where we had no choice but to eat many a strange aliment; but there was one thing that we both could not bear. Even the very mention of the name of this supposed foodstuff was enough to send Bertie and I into fits of rage. And it just so happened that course twenty-seven (which was being served as I was congratulating Elspeth on the magnitude and magnificence of the menu) included this very thing.

Bertie, fuelled by the protein from the previous twenty-six courses, the copious wine and the adrenaline build-up caused by being forced to listen to Rhodes - erupted.

"Bloody brussels sprouts!", he said. "The Devil's Vegetable!"

The serving lads ran for cover as Bertie thumped the table. A bejewelled serving-spoon acted as a fulcrum and sent the sprout-filled solid silver tureen flying though the air, on a direct and perfect course, straight toward Rhodes. Several dozen sprouts peppered Rhodes' head as he was in full flow with his views of how Britain should invade America and reclaim what should never have been lost in the first place.

At last, Rhodes was quietened. He levelled a steely gaze at Bertie. Bertie, unabashed, returned it.

"Mr. Harrison-Harrison. Do you have anything to say to me?"

Bertie took a sip of red wine and replied, "I have nothing to say to you that can be said in mixed company, Mr. Rhodes",

Oh, Lordie. Thought I.

"What!? No apology?", boomed Rhodes, a sprout balanced precariously on his
right shoulder. The guests as one all turned to Bertie.

"It was an unfortunate accident. Had I intended to attack you, I can assure you that it would have been with a more dangerous weapon than a boiled vegetable. Having said that, it is the best use of a brussels sprout that I could imagine. So, no. No apology".

Oh, Lordie, Lordie. I was thinking double quick now.

There was a mixture of gasps, harrumphing and laughing from within the great hall.

I tugged at Bertie's coat-tails.
"What are you doing ?", I hissed. "Think of who you are getting at!"

"Someone needs to stand up to him", Bertie said quietly. I had rarely seen him so resolved. I comforted Elspeth who, understandably, had become rather emotional and jittery.

"This matter must be settled, one way or the other", said Rhodes, writing furiously on a small ivory-coloured card retrieved from an inside pocket. "A challenge is in order".

The hall fell silent, save for the strangulated oompahs of an emaciated Indian requesting aide from deep within the confines of a large brass wind instrument.

Rhodes gave the card to a waiter, who promptly presented it to Bertie. Bertie read it to himself and after a short delay nodded slowly.

Unfalteringly, he said : "I accept your challenge".

Oh, Lordie, Lordie, Lordie can one think in triplicate?

With little chance of rescuing the evening (and absolutely no chance of the Spotted Dikdik and custard that was due as dessert), Elspeth got up from the table and signalled to the Zulu entertainers to sing a song that might bring some quiet to the proceedings. They sang :


"Gar sef ar greh ser Kwee,

Lar lif ar nor ber Kwee,

Gar sef ar Kwee,

Sen har fikto reeus,

Har peean glo reeus,

Lahn a rey o ferus,

Gar sef ar Kwee."

Jameson led Rhodes away to the veranda, grabbing a decanter of brandy on the way. The assembled cavalrymen clustered, excitedly discussed the evening's events and wondering about the nature of the challenge that Rhodes had issued to Bertie.

Bertie and I faced each other.


"Bertie, old friend ! What have you let yourself in for?"


Bertie slowly handed me Rhodes' challenge card. It read simply :


"Tennis. Doubles. Best of five sets. Losers leave Africa immediately"

“Wonderful, Elspeth, I ……” I turned to look for her but she had left the room .The entertainers were filing out of one door whilst everyone else was making their way to out to the veranda and an outbuilding. But where had Mrs Devries gone?

“Bertie lively now, to the stairs!”

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