The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1904-10-02
SOME CURIOUS WEAPONS
"Reminiscences Connected with Eng
Iishman's Collection.


Iishman's Collection.
Reginald Wyon, in Chambers Journal.
Upon my walls hang a. quaint assort-
ment of weapons. 1t is a hobby OF
mine, and one 1 am to a certain ex-
tent proud of. because each specimen
be it pistol. knife, or assegai-has
been added to my collection on the
spot where it was used. When draw
back my chair and contemplate them
between the whiffs of my pipe, old,
half forgotten scenes come back to my
turg1d memory, and a longing to ex-
change my present surroundings of
prosaic bricks and mortar for waving
palm trees, for blue, cloudless skies, for
rugged mountains, steals over me.
There is a pistol, of which I am very
fond-it is of wood mounted with
quaint brass ornaments-that snaps fire
still when l pull the trigger. 1t calls
back memories of it's athletic owner,
a Montenegro, who once formed one
Of my escort when I was travelling on
the Albanian borders. The recollections
of that day are very vivid, for we saved
the life of a fugitive from the pitiless
vendetta, and very nearly lost our
own. 1t was touch and go when his
pursuers came up, outnumbering us by
tCAA " OAlGs Sc1NdSe 1DOhlIk =,
and we refused to yield or give him
up. The man. a handsome young fell
low, hung painting at my stirrup, and
never shall / forget his look of graft
tude as the avenging hand drew off
afraid of the consequences should they
have shot us Europeans. Probably he
is killed by now; but at any rate we
saved him for a few more months of
pleasant life. That night the owner
Of he fcfa q
gave it to me, telling me its history. 1t
had, to his certain knowledge, slain
twenty-eight men. and had been car
ried by him for years, and by his
father before him. Probably the num-
Der is far greater, for border warfare
is part of the daily life of these from
tier men. Then we fired the charge
with BETTING solemnity-for was it
not it's own death charge? And now it
hangs rusting on wall, and a mod
ern revolver graces it's place in the gay
colored sash of its Montenegrin owner.
Beside it hangs a silver mounted
pistol of equal antiquity. A gambling
Montenegro brought it one evening
and sold it to me that he might con-
tinue playing. my father took it from
a Turk whom he had slain," he said,
"in the last war here, before the walls
of the town"
But he insisted on selling it, knowing
that / loved such things, and went
back hurriedly to his fellow gamblers.
To this end had his father risked his
life and won a trophy!
A Japanse knife close by was the
present of little Jap coffee house
keeper in sweltering Zanzibar. Why
he gave it to me I never knew, yet
there it is to remind me of his odd
coffee house and his little staff of
geishas, as much out of their element
in those evil smelling alleys and reek-
ing heat as I, the Englishman was
close my eyes and conjure up that
bare room. its bamboo furniture and
deft attendant maidens. Half in the
door stands one-armed beggar moan
ing piteously for charity. and the tiny
Jap drives him away with much ours
ing. Then the tramp Of bare feet and
shouts of men take me to the open
window. and chair bearing yelled
woman swings by, borne by gigantic
eunuchs, the curtains wave, and a
roguish face peers out, veilless, and
gives me a ravishing glance. A more
sedate friend pulls me back. adjuring
me to caution as / value my life. for
the enchantress Is one of the royal
harem whom to gaze upon is death.
That worthy gentleman, the deceased
Sultan OF Zanzibar. rivalled even Solo
mon in all his glory in one respect.
And then a stately old Arab comes I'm.
with ieweled daggers and pistol butt in
his gorgeous sash, and greets me I'm
broken French, for many are the chats
that we have had together. II is the
famous Tippoo Tib. the one-time no.
torious slave merchant, of whom Stan
ley often wrote.
Above the knives hang an array OF
bows, poisoned arrows. and spears
which a Dutchman gave me on his
deathbed. Poor fellow after a sojourn
Of many years in the fever-stricken
swamps Of Southeast Africa, saving
money the while with which 10 return
to his beloved Holland. he succunnbed
to malaria on the very ship that was
bearing him hon1eward. We buried
him in the CLASSY Indian ocean, and
10 us, his friends, he distributed many
Of the gifts that he was taking 10 his
loved ones at home, a few hours be-
fore he died.
Yes. some Of my weapons have sad
stories. too.
There is the solid looking English
hunting knife that a merry young
Scotsman gave me as he lay rapidly
dying from a bite OF the black man.
bs, which means death within the
hour. He was fresh from bonny
Scotland but few weeks before.
That is the assegai which Zulu
threw at me. and which cut my fin
ger to the bone as hastily warded II
of with a riding cane. He was stabbed
10 the heart by our "friendlies" mo-
ment later. Those we're lively times
in the mounted police and many were
the unofficial brushes that we had, and
which we never reported 10 headquer-
tiers,
That was IN Dar-es- SaiaaFn. Three
Of as Ian Englishman. the Dutchman,
who died two or three weeks after
ward. and myseif). had dined not
wisely but enthusiastically with the