The covenant - James A. Michener [393]
'What do you mean?'
'When you were at Oxford, did you ever read John Ruskin's charge to the young men of the university? You didn't? You should have been required to memorize it. Wait here.' He ran to his cabin, a rather heavy man moving with agility, and within a few moments was back with a dog-eared pamphlet of Ruskin's famous Oxford address of 1870, a few years before Rhodes matriculated. 'Read this,' he said peremptorily, 'and we'll talk about it after dinner.' In Mr. Rhodes' chair on deck, Frank read the intoxicating challenge:
Will you youths of England make your country again a royal throne of kings, a sceptered isle, for all the world a source of light, a center of Peace; a mistress of learning and of the Arts, faithful guardian of time-tried principles? This is what England must do or perish. She must found colonies as fast and as far as she is able, formed of her most energetic and worthiest men; seizing any piece of fruitful waste ground she can set her foot on, and there teaching these her colonists that their chief virtue is to be fidelity to their country, and their first aim is to advance the power of England by land and sea. All that I ask of you is to have a fixed purpose of some kind for your country and for yourselves, no matter how restricted, so that it be fixed and unselfish.
When Mr. Rhodes returned after dinner, the sun had set behind the western horizon, but its invisible disk still sent golden rays to illuminate the clouds that stood guard over Africa, making the eastern Atlantic a scene of glory. He asked only one question: 'Saltwood, have you discovered your fixed purpose?'
'Not really, sir.'
'Isn't it about time you did?'
'As you know, I've been thinking of law.'
'You've been thinking of? He spat out the words with distaste. 'At Oriel you were thinking of missionary work. And next week you'll be thinking of something else. Why not come to solid grips with real problems?'
'What do you mean, sir?'
'Come to work for me. There's so much to be done, so little time to do it.'
Darkness fell upon the ship, and as it sailed southward to the realm of stars that Frank knew well, Rhodes talked insistently. 'I need help, Salt-wood. I need the energy of young men.'
'How old are you, sir?'
'Twenty-nine. But I feel thirty-nine. Have you any idea, Saltwood, of the empire I control?'
'No, sir.'
'I told few at Oxford. I was embarrassed. But I mean to control all the diamonds in the world.'
'To what purpose?'
'The map, Saltwood. The map. I mean to turn it all red. To make places you and I have never seen part of the British Empire.'
'Can that be done?'
'Never ask such a question!' Rhodes exploded. 'Anything can be done if men of good principle determine that it shall be done. Have you the courage to strike for immortal goals?'
In the darkness of midnight Frank had no estimate whatever of his courage, and he said so. 'Then you must come to work for me,' Rhodes said, 'and I'll show you how much courage a young man can develop.'
Through the night they talked of the Limpopo and the Zambezi, of the Matabele, and when the moon hung low upon the waves Rhodes introduced a new word: 'Zimbabwe. Ever heard of it?'
'Yes.'
'A fabulous city. Some idiots are beginning to argue that it was built by blacks, but those who know are convinced it's Ophir of the Bible. The Queen of Sheba may have built it, or the Phoenicians. One day we must go to Zimbabwe to show the world that this is the Queen of Sheba's city.' Immediately he enlarged on the subject: 'Matabeleland, ancient cities, gold mines . . . They're nothing, Saltwood. The obligation of mankind is to improve society, and no people have stepped upon this earth more qualified to perform this task than well-bred Englishmen. Will you work with me?'
The night was gone, the sun was coming up