Anjani the Mighty. John Russell Fearn
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BORGO PRESS BOOKS BY JOHN RUSSELL FEARN
1,000-Year Voyage: A Science Fiction Novel
Anjani the Mighty: A Lost Race Novel (Anjani #2)
Black Maria, M.A.: A Classic Crime Novel
The Crimson Rambler: A Crime Novel
Don’t Touch Me: A Crime Novel
Dynasty of the Small: Classic Science Fiction Stories
The Empty Coffins: A Mystery of Horror
The Fourth Door: A Mystery Novel
From Afar: A Science Fiction Mystery
Fugitive of Time: A Classic Science Fiction Novel
The G-Bomb: A Science Fiction Novel
The Gold of Akada: A Jungle Adventure Novel (Anjani #1)
Here and Now: A Science Fiction Novel
Into the Unknown: A Science Fiction Tale
Last Conflict: Classic Science Fiction Stories
Legacy from Sirius: A Classic Science Fiction Novel
The Man from Hell: Classic Science Fiction Stories
The Man Who Was Not: A Crime Novel
One Way Out: A Crime Novel (with Philip Harbottle)
Pattern of Murder: A Classic Crime Novel
Reflected Glory: A Dr. Castle Classic Crime Novel
Robbery Without Violence: Two Science Fiction Crime Stories
Rule of the Brains: Classic Science Fiction Stories
Shattering Glass: A Crime Novel
The Silvered Cage: A Scientific Murder Mystery
Slaves of Ijax: A Science Fiction Novel
Something from Mercury: Classic Science Fiction Stories
The Space Warp: A Science Fiction Novel
The Time Trap: A Science Fiction Novel
Vision Sinister: A Scientific Detective Thriller
What Happened to Hammond? A Scientific Mystery
Within That Room!: A Classic Crime Novel
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
Copyright © 1951 by John Russell Fearn
Copyright © 1998, 2010 by Philip Harbottle
Originally published under the pen name, Earl Titan;
also published under the title, Return to Akada.
Published by Wildside Press LLC
www.wildsidebooks.com
DEDICATION
For Dick Lupoff
CHAPTER ONE
REUNION
The slim, blonde-headed girl in a tropical white costume looked with more than normal interest towards the approaching coastline of West Africa. It was the middle of the afternoon, sizzling hot, with only the molten brass of the sun in the startling blue of the sky. The millionaire’s yacht, at the rail of which Rita Perrivale stood, hardly made any breeze as it coursed in gently towards the coastline of lower southern Equatorial Africa. And behind the yacht, at a distance of perhaps a mile, a much larger vessel moved—a tramp steamer.
“You want us to draw in at Loango, Mrs. Perrivale?”
The girl turned quickly at the voice, her grey eyes alight with eagerness. The First Mate was standing respectfully nearby in his white drill suit.
“No, not into Loango itself, Mr. Crespin. Preferably northwards in the direction of Mayumba. It will make it easier for me. There’s a military outpost there from which I can get my bearings.”
“Very good. I’ll inform the captain—”
“I think I’d better do it myself. Ask him to come and have a word with me, will you?”
The First Mate saluted and departed. Rita took another look at the verdure of the distances, then at the coastline itself, and finally turned away. By the time she had walked the deck to the captain’s cabin, he had just arrived from the bridge. He opened the door of his cabin and motioned the girl inside to a chair. Then he began to pour out drinks.
“Naturally you’ll join me, Mrs. Perrivale?” he asked.
The girl smiled languidly. “Try and stop me, Captain! I think Africa gets hotter every time I come to it.”
Captain Hart handed over the filled glass and then regarded the girl seriously.
“Of course, madam, it is not really any business of mine, but are you sure you know what you are doing?”
“Quite sure!” Rita’s grey eyes met his.
“Forgive me, but it all sounds remarkably fantastic. This story of two white men of immense stature loose in the jungle, twin brothers, and both of them contesting the other for the supremacy of the Dark Continent! Then there is this almost legendary city of Akada with its fabulous treasure of gold and ivory.…”
“It is all fact, Captain Hart: please realise that!” There was a sharpness in Rita’s voice. “How do you suppose I got from one side of Africa to the other, from Zanzibar to Loango, straight across the Congo, without help of some kind? That help came from Anjani, a white man, but matured in the jungle. I have returned to Africa because I promised him I would, and because I am going to take on board that tramp steamer we have chartered all the gold and ivory it will carry. My husband would have wished it that way.”
“Quite so,” the captain agreed, subdued. It was by no means the first trip he had made to Africa in the Perrivale luxury yacht, but it was the first time Rita had made it without her husband. A gorilla had slain him in the midst of the earlier ghastly journey to fabulous Akada.
“I am using the millions I have inherited to further the ‘hobby’ my husband loved,” Rita added simply. “We will pull in further up the coast between Loango and Mayumba. From there I can soon find the military outpost I want. After that it will not be far to the ‘Y’-shaped rock where Anjani promised he would meet me when I returned.”
“And you believe he will, having not the least warning that you are nearing Africa?”
“He will be watching for me. I shall require several men to go ashore with me to the ‘Y’-rock. Anjani promised to bring many members of the Untani tribe—by which he was reared—to help move the treasure. In return I am granting the Untani trading rights.”
“I see,” Hart said quietly. “Very well, madam, I will see to it that we anchor as near as possible to the military post you require. I expect that to be in about two hours.”
And, being a good seaman, the captain had calculated correctly. A little under two hours later the yacht dropped anchor in an inlet. Before long Rita was seated in a boat, the crew pulling powerfully on the oars.
Once she set foot on the sand, Rita looked about her and smiled. It felt good to be back again on the Dark Continent. Not because she had any particular love for the jungle with its myriad terrors and crushing heat, but because it meant she would not now be long separated from Anjani. The nine months she had been absent making preparations for this return had seemed interminable—yet, here she was, with the military outpost only a matter of two miles inshore.
With the members of the crew to protect her, she stayed only long enough to identify herself to the outpost’s commanding officer, then she continued her journey northwards across flat and dusty terrain. Behind her, motionless in the purple of gathering evening, stood the yacht and the tramp steamer, anchored.
“There,” she said presently, nodding ahead, and first-mate Crespin in charge