TARZAN and the BLACK ALSATIAN

PROLOGUE1

******2

Battle Creek Enquirer, September 3, 19863

RETIRED POST CEREALS EXECUTIVE DIES4

Local attorney Stewart Pearson, a retired Vice President of Post Cereals, passed away at his Richland home yesterday, of heart failure. He was 74. Pearson, who is survived by his wife, Mary [nee Bryce], and his daughter, Mrs. Linda Pettigrew of St. Louis, Missouri, served as head of Post Cereal’s legal department for twenty-three years, before retiring in 1977. Prior to that he served as a Lt. Commander in the U.S. Navy’s Judge Advocate Generals office. Pearson, a 1935 graduate of the University of Michigan, worked in the law offices of Cyril Cosgrove of Eaton Rapids prior to joining the US Navy in 1942. At Post Cereals he defended the company in several important Patent cases, and the famous 1963 Zimmerman Wrongful Death Suit against Post. Born and raised in Battle Creek, Pearson was the son-in-law of long-time Postum senior attorney, Jefferson Bryce. Pearson was preceeded in death in 1968 by his son, Captain David Pearson, U.S. Army. 5

The funeral will be held at the First Congregational Church chapel, at 9:30, Wednesday morning, Pastor Mujais presiding, with interment to follow at Oaklawn Cemetary at 11 a.m.6

****7


As is so often the case, as a daughter I was closer to my father than to my mother. I had arrived the night before, having flown from St. Louis to Kazoo, and then driven a rent-a-car to B.C. Dad had called earlier in the week and said that he needed to see me. It was a slack time in my law practice, so I came immediately; the boys were old enough to be on their own with Bob. Mom and Dad were seperated, and I knew he wouldn’t turn to her with anything important. Especially not after she publically humiliated him at the Country Club before she moved out, by saying that he had “passsed his used-by date!” 8

He looked gastly when I arrived; pale and grey, and I urged him to go to the hospital. He refused, with his usual logical stubborness, saying he’d already been to the doctor, and knew his prognosis. Which is why he’d called. We spent a few hours going over his will, the trust fund for mine and my late brother’s kids, and the funeral arrangements. Always the practical man, over the previous few months he had typed up an itemised list of all his assests and belongings, and filed all the appropriate papers to speed up the Probate process. He'd assumed, and I agreed, that I would handle the Probate matters and act as Trustee. 9

My mother, the independently wealthy heiress of her father’s estate, had already stripped the house of her belongings, and living off her own investments, had moved to Arizona several years before. Divorce was out of the question, despite her loathing of my father. I think, in her twisted logic [she had a complete mental breakdown in 1988] that she sought to “punish” Dad by not divorcing him. He, ever patient, still loved her, and would take no step to initiate a divorce. 10

….But I digress….11

When Dad didn’t come down for breakfast the following morning I went upstairs to check up on him. He didn’t answer my knock on his bedroom door, and I didn’t hear his shower running. Openning the door I found him sprawled on the floor halfway between his bed and his ensuite, very obviously dead. 12

The obligatory ambulance arrived quickly, but only confirmed his passing. The police interview was perfunctory once his doctor had been contacted to confirm his terminal heart condition. And that, aside from contacting the mortician, was that; except for phone calls and endless details. I appreciated all the details, because that helped me deal with the intense sense of loss I felt.13

Bob and the children flew up from St. Louis. My older brother’s widow, Helen, now remarried, and her adult children and their spouses and kids arrived from Detroit and Boston for the funeral. After the funeral, which was well attended by former colleagues [despite Post Cereal’s hypocritical abandonment of its Battle Creek home], I stayed on and spent a week arranging the sale of the Richland property and the disposal of Dad’s things. Probate would take a little longer, but I could easily travel back for that process. 14

In reality, Dad didn’t own much besides clothes, property and his car. He had never been a collector, or a hoarder like my mother. I guess his “trophies” were all the court cases he’d won. On his list was the notation “3 Manuscripts”. I eventually found them in a box at the back of his home-office closet.15

The first “manuscript” was the draft of a novel Dad had written and published in the early 1930's. Dreary, romantic and long out of print, I kept it for an heirloom of sorts. The second “manuscript” was a notebook filled with much more recent notes for a second novel, a detective story with an occult twist. It didn’t look promising, and I certainly wasn’t going to try and finish it for him. I threw it out.16

Lastly there was a real manuscript, bound in heavy cardboard front and end pieces. I looked at the title page.17

TARZAN and the BLACK ALSATIAN, by Edgar Rice Burroughs and Albert Payson Terhune18

Below the title was the inscription:19

“To Stewie. Thanks for the idea,” and a date; July 5, 1926.20

It was signed individually, and with great flourish, by both Burroughs and Terhune.21

I knew that Dad was a particular fan of the Tarzan books. In my youth I remember Tarzan paperbacks by the dozen on the bookshelf of our summer home on Coldwater Lake. Dad once told me that Burroughs and Terhune, both on book promotional tours in the summer of 1926, had agreed to meet in Battle Creek and relax at a mutual friend’s summer cottage for a fortnight. By pure coincidence, Dad, who was both tall and well muscled for a fourteen year old, wound up as their chauffeur for those two weeks. Picking them up at the Post Inn, he drove them down to Coldwater, and was at their beck and call during their stay. Mostly, he said, they fished and talked, and didn’t need much driving around. He even got to go out fishing with them a couple times.22

To take a break from grief and the post-funeral blahs, I sat down to read this unpublished story by two of America’s better known authors.23


* * * *24

25

The Vickers Vimi Commercial lumbered down the grass landing field at the Nairobi aerodrome and clawed its way slowly into the morning sky. In the noisy cabin of the converted WW1 bomber, Captain Charles Robert Sedgewick, M.C., sat in one of the two wicker seats contemplating the passing scenery as the aircraft gained altitude and turned onto a new heading. Beside him in the aisle lay the only other passenger on this otherwise cargo-laden flight, his black Alsatian, Theodoric. ‘Theo’ lay with his head on his paws, staring ahead at the actions of the pilot and co-pilot. Seated on a raised platform a few feet in front of their passengers the two pilots went about their tasks unaware of the alert dog’s observation. Captain Sedgewick had owned Theo since he was a pup.26

Robert Sedgewick had joined the Grenadier Guards, 4th Battalion, in 1916, been lightly wounded in two battles, and severly wounded in the right leg in April, 1918. Returning from the Great War in 1919, and needing time to fully recover from his wounds, Robert had settled into a small bungalow in rural Kent. A daily walk of several miles, still dependent on a walking stick, was part of his recupperative routine. On one of his trampings he took a lane that passed an estate with a large kennel, and had spied a very nice looking young lady putting an Alsatian shepherd though its paces on a purpose-built training course. He stopped to watch; either the girl or the dog, he was never really sure. Eventually, the young woman saw him leaning on the paddock fence and waved. He waved back, watched a while longer, definitely the girl now, and then continued his walk.27

Next day he contrived his schedule to walk the same route again, in hopes that the young lady would be out training her dog. The paddock was empty. Slightly let down, the recovering veteran walked further on down the lane. To his surprise, and the lifting of his countenance, the young lady and her Alsatian entered the lane ahead of him via a farm gate in the hedgerow. She was walking away from him.28

“Good morning Miss. That is a fine animal you have there,” he said by way of getting her attention. 29

On hearing his greeting, the young woman instructed the dog to sit, and she turned to see who had greeted her. She recognised Robert as the person who had been observing her training session a few days before. “Good morning. Yes, 'Lady Jane' is an excellent animal. I plan to enter her in the Royal Show next season.” She was asessing Robert as she spoke. His miltary bearing, cane, slight palor, and distant look mirrored a look she knew well from her late brother. “You’ve been at the war, I see,” she stated matter-of-factly.30

He thought she was the most attractive woman of his age that he had met, but taken aback by her statement, only managed to say, somewhat stiffly, “Is it that obvious?”.31

The young woman called her dog to heal, and walked the few paces to where Robert had halted. “Would you care to walk with us?” She asked boldly. “My name is Elizabeth Wallingford, and this as I have said, is Lady Jane.” The Alsatian sat, raised a paw and waited for an amused Robert to shake it.32

“I am pleased to meet you, Lady Jane; and you Miss Wallingford. I am Captain Robert Sedgewick. I would be pleased to walk along with you for a pace. My doctors require that I get a walk in every day, to strengthen my leg.”33

A walk, a conversation, mostly about dog breeding, and a pleasant morning conjoined into mutual agreement to walk again in two days’ time. Several more such walks and Robert enjoyed an invitation to the Wallingford estate, ‘to visit the kennels’. It seemed that Lady Jane was one of several pedigree Alsatians that Lord Wallingford bred. His dogs were trained for the military, police work, and for discerning owners who wanted loyal, and highly intellegent shepherd dogs.34

While Robert’s hopes of building a romance with Miss Elizabeth did not eventuate, mostly due to the negative influence of her father he thought, they did become friends, and she have him one of Lady Jane’s first pups, which he named ‘Theodoric’, after Theodoric the Great, King of the Ostrogoths. Mostly black, with red highlights, Theo was intelligent, very teachable, and loyal beyond imagining. The two became inseperable, and Theo’s active and attentive influence aided Robert’s full recovery greatly.35

Once fit, and discharged from the Guards, Robert re-joined the Metropolitan Police Service in his pre-war role as a detective. London was not the best place for a large dog, especially when his master was away at all hours on police work. Added to this was Robert’s own restlessness, a response to his wartime experiences. When the opportunity arose, Robert accepted a position in the constabulary in British East Africa. Theo went with him.36

Over the next three years ‘Captain’ Sedgewick fulfilled a number of basic duties, first in Mombasa, and then Nairobi. During all this time he had maintained his correspondence with Miss Elizabeth; always in hopes of overcoming the resistence of her father. Her father, eaten-up with bitterness at loosing his only son in the war, was possessive of his remaining child.37

Today, Robert and Theo were winging their way to a jungle-clad section of the Colony to become the new Chief Constable of the Sawahil District. As the scenery below turned from veldt to fields to dense jungle canopy Robert wondered what challenges awaited him in his new assignment. Robert hoped that the promotion and stability of his new assignment would help persuade Sir William. The aircraft had been gaining height to surmount an escarpment that rose up from the jungle floor. Below and ahead a terrain of jungle-clad hills and valleys spread in Robert’s field of view.38

Robert was musing on all these things when the cockpit windscreen exploded in blood, flesh and feathers. The mangled carcass of a Griffon Vulture and the shards of windscreen struck the pilot and co-pilot full in their faces. The pilot was knocked unconscious, the co-pilot temporarily blinded. The Vimi Commercial immediately pitched downward and began to roll to the right as the co-pilot fought the weight of the unconscious pilot slumped on the wheel, and his own shock and half-blind disorientation.39

Robert was pitched out of his wicker seat and thrown against the base of the pilots’ platform, with Theo careering against him. Shrieking wind blew through the fuselage as the aircraft gained momentum in its earthward plunge. The engines’ bellowing became an increasing roar. Robert and Theo slammed into the side of the cabin as the plane tipped more to the right in its uncontrolled descent. Robert heard a tearing, rending noise, and then silence filled his mind.40

****41

The imposing figure strode firmly but silently up to the veranda of the District Commissioner’s office. Dressed in khaki shirt and slacks and canvas deck shoes, the blond haired man was greeted at the door by the Comissioner’s servant.42

“Jambo, Bwana. Habari?” greeted the well appointed household servant in the Swahili lingua franca.43

“Mzuri sana. Na wewe Joseph?” answered the tall man in the same language. 44

“Mzuri sana. Asanti sana, Bwana,” replied the servant. Then he switched to English. “I will tell Sir Charles that you are here. Will you please wait in the den?”45

“Sawa, sawa,” acquiesed the guest.46

Joseph walked down the hall to the back of the building and knocked on the door of the wireless room.47

“Enter,” a voice instructed.48

Upon opening the door Joseph saw the District Commissioner pacing impatiently while a police Sergent sat at a desk before a wireless transmitter, listening intently to the Morse on bakelite earphones, and writing on a pad. 49

“Sir Charles, Lord Greystokes is here to see you, sir,” the African announced.50

Thankyou Joseph. Please see that he has a drink, and give my apologies. I must wait for the Sergent to finish taking down this transmission. Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”51

“Very well, sir,” Joseph replied and went back to the den to deliver the message and see to the guest’s needs. He found the guest thumbing through the Commissioner’s well-stocked library shelves. He thanked Joseph, but did not wish a beverage.52

There was a five minute wait until the door opened and the ageing District Commissioner walked in. Sir Charles Mallory Granville, MBE, VC, was a slight, wiry man, with snow-white hair and an equally white handlebar mustache. He was impeccably dressed in the regulation police commissioner’s uniform, despite the humidity. He extended a hand in greeting, “John how very good to see you. Thank you so much for dropping by.”53

“My pleasure Commissioner….,” Lord Greystokes began, as he shook hands, and searched the worried face of his host.54

“Charles, please…” interrupted the Commissioner, “No need for formality after all these years, John.”55

“Charles,” the guest corrected himself. “I wouldn’t think of letting you leave without saying a personal ‘goodbye’. But I must say, you look worried and distracted. Something the matter?”56

“Indeed, John. My replacement was to have arrived this morning on the supply flight from Nairobi. He is four hours overdue, and I am very concerned. Wireless from Nairobi says that he took off on time. There is no report of them having landed anywhere, nor did they turn back to the Nairobi aerodrome. I must assume that they have been forced down somewhere enroute. I pray they are safe. But enough of that. Tell me about your latest trip. And how is Lady Greystokes?”57

For the next hour the two old friends discussed Tarzan and Jane’s recent trip to London. Tarzan, never a friend of ‘civilization’ had tolerated the business trip as a necessary evil in the maintenance of his estates, here and in England. Jane, of course, had delighted herself in shopping and catching up with old friends. She found post-war England very lively, though Tarzan saw through the extravagance for what it was, an attempt to anesthetize away the memory of the war. Eventually the talk turned to the Commissioner’s retirement plans.58

“I’ve lived in East Africa since the end of the Boer War. I can’t imagine leaving now. My friends are here. My wife is buried here. My son and his family live near Thika. I will make my home with them, and be very content to hunt, or sit under a flame tree and sip ‘gin and tonic’ all day.”59

“What about Joseph?”60

“He’ll come with me of course,” was his simple reply. 61

There was no hint in any of Sir Charles’ statements that the quasi-aristocratic and inequitable lifestyle the European population enjoyed might not be to the liking or benefit of the indigenous population. And Tarzan, as both a European and ‘Laird’ of his jungle domain, also had an unconsious expectation of his right to rule, albeit in a different manner.62

A knock on the door interrupted their discussion.63

“Enter,” acknowledged Sir Charles.64

“Sir,” began the Sergent of police, “another transmission.” He handed over his transcription of the wireless telegraphy. “Do you wish to reply, sir?”65

After reading through the message, the Commissioner replied, “Yes, Stevens; please inform Nairobi that we will orgainise a search from our end.”66

He replied, “Very good, Sir,” and exited. 67

Tarzan lifted a quizical eye, and Sir Charles handed over the transcription.68

“Hmmm,” was his first thoughtful response. In his mind he was transiting the terrain, and estimating the aircraft’s chances. After a few moments he offered, “If they have gone down north of the river, then the villages there would have already sent word, at least by drum if not on foot. An 'Ndege' flying overhead is too rare a sight not to be commented upon. But, if they went down between the Escarpment and the river, then only the jungle animals would have witnessed it; or, at the very outside chance, a hunting party. Either way, finding them, alive or dead, will be a difficult task. What do you plan to do?”69

“The police post at Merosi is the last patrol station on the airroute from the Escarpment to here. They have a wireless set. If we can raise them, then they can organise a search party.” He looked his guest over. “Would you be willing to join the search party?”70

Tarzan thought for a moment. “It would be better, I think if I went alone by my own route. That will accomplish two things; two rescue parties out looking, and I can backtrack the route more quickly that a large party.”71

“I would consider it a great kindness, Tarzan, if you would do so.”72

Tarzan stood, shook hands with his friend, and left. Addopting his accustomed loping pace the Ape Man covered the distance back to his estate in under an hour. 73

As he changed into his traditional loincloth and knife he explained the situation to his wife Jane. Being wise in the ways her husband’s mind worked, and confident in his abilities to track and survive in ‘his’ jungle, she had no quams about seeing him off on his quest. As he diappeared into the jungle edging their property, Jane turn to Tuomo, her houseboy, and ordered the organising of a back-up search party made up of estate workers and nearby villagers. They might not find the crashed plane; but they could carry medical supplies and stretchers to suport Tarzan’s or the police’s search. 74

She was confident that, if the people were alive, then Tarzan would find them. And, she had a personal motivation for wanting the new District Commisssioner found alive. 75

****76

Something cold, wet and intrusive lapped over his face repeatedly. Groggily he dragged himself up from unconsciousness into a half-awareness. Theo’s attentive muzzle greeted his one focusing eye. He began to reach out to pet his dog’s head when the move resulted in a rough jolt of pain from his right forearm. The pain brought him more fully to a conscious state. He tried lifting his arm again, only to have the sharp pain repeated. Then he became aware of the persistent ache in that arm. Using his left arm to lever himself into a sitting position he was next attacked by a grating pain in his right leg. That was not the pain of a bullet wound. More like a schrapnel wound, tearing and deep.77

Sedgewick gritted his teeth and completed the sitting-up manouver. Waves of pain washed over him. Theo wimpered in sympathy. Robert brushed the caked blood away from his eyes with his left hand, and looked around. Despite his pain-induced haziness, he was able to make out some of his surroundings. 78

His first awareness was that he was nolonger inside the aircraft. Or rather, the outside had come thoroughly inside. There were as many branches, leaves, vines and dirt in evidence as there were broken wooden framing, torn fabric, mangled wicker seats and smashed crates. It was dusk, and the light was fading, but Robert was able to see through the torn shirtsleeve that his right arm was bruised and swollen. He began to prod the bruising, only to yelp in pain. This brought another whimper and a lick from Theo. Robert concluded that his forearm was probably broken. The damage to his leg was more readily discernable. His pantleg was dark with dried blood and a large splinter of the aircraft’s framing timber was sticking out of his calf; schrapnel of a different sort. He laughed ironically to himself, and then turned his attention to Theo.79

“Good boy. Good Theo,” he soothed. Slowly he checked Theo’s muscular body with his good hand. One ear was torn and caked in dried blood. The dog wimpered again when Robert touched his left hip; though it didn’t feel broken. There was a six inch gash on Theo’s left flank, but it wasn’t deep. “Good boy. Good Theo,” he kept repeating. Theo, for his part, was sniffing at his master’s leg wound, and alternately licking at the dried blood on his face and head. 80

Eventually the mess of the cabin’s interior began to make sense to Robert, and he realised that he was actually sitting on the ceiling about halfway back from the pilots’ seats. He realised then that one pilot was lying in an awkward heap not three feet from him. Despite the pain he slowly worked his way over to the body, and quickly confirmed, by the obviosuly proken neck and severly damaged face that he was dead. Robert assumed that this was the pilot. 81

He looked around for the co-pilot. There, jamed between seat, ceiling and floor, tangled in the flight controls, was the body of the co-pilot. Blood dripped from the shreds of scalp that hung from his head. Again bracing himself against the pain Robert dragged and clawed himself up to the co-pilot. Checking, he found a pulse, weak but steady. The man was unconscious but breathing shallowly. 82

As the light faded, and the jungle night noises murmured in the distance, the groggy former soldier gave thought to his circumstances. With Theo curled up against his side, Robert Sedgewick faded into unconsciousness and slept a pain-filled and fitful sleep. 83

*** 84

As he had anticipated, Tarzan was well on his way along the presumed flight path long before the search party from the Merosi police post could be organised. This was ‘his’ jungle. He knew its’ trails, dangers, and benefits. His suspicion that the plane had not come down in the area north of the Mto River were confirmed as his every question to villagers about an ‘Ndege’ that had fallen to earth was met with firmly negative ‘Hapanas’. He rushed on. At the river he checked for signs of crocodiles and hippos, and chose a crossing place and a stout vine. The vine’s arc dropped him about 10 yards short of the far bank. A strong swimmer, Tarzan reached the bank and scrambled into the bush well before an alerted croc could react to his rhythmic splashings.85

Between the southern bank of the river and the edge of the Escarpment he was in an unihabited region of dense jungle, where vines would provide his best transport. Here wild animals roamed, and occassional hunting parties sought game to carry back across the river to feed their villages. Here Tarzan knew he could get better information on the plane’s disappearance.86

Sighting a troop of black and white Colobus monkeys, Tarzan swung towards them, making non-threatening signs and vocalisations. The dominant male postured in pseudo-threat at the Ape Man’s intrusion, but listened when he asked about an 'Ndege' falling into the trees. The monkeys chattered amongst themselves for a few minutes, and then the male pointed towards the Escarpment and made the signs for ‘yesterday noisy man-thing break trees.’ Tarzan thanked the troop, and swung off towards the Escarpment. It was late in the day, and he would need to find a safe tree limb to sleep in for the night. 87

***88

Sedgewick had awoken early from his fitful sleep. Theo was instantly alert to his master’s increased movements, and licked his left hand until he was rewarded with a pat on the head and a scratch behind his ears. As the light increased so did his thirst. He’d brought a water bottle and some sandwiches onto the plane for the slow flight. He’d eaten the sandwiches, but had not finished the water before the crash. He looked around the mangled interior, hoping to see the canteen. He was disappointed in his search.89

Resigned to thirst he next gave his attention to Theo, checking his laceration, and finding it free of pus and insect life. Next he tried out his right arm. It was black with bruising, and just as swollen as yesterday; very evidently broken. The pain level when he moved it confirmed his diagnosis. His leg still carried the large splinter of framing. There was some fresh blood. He saw that the splinter had not gone completely through his calf. He tentitively tried to remove the piece of wood. The immense waves of nauseating pain that resulted from his efforts convinced him to leave it alone; at least for the time being.90

Next he turned his attention to the corpse. It was beginning to bloat. Lastly, he checked the co-pilot. He was still wedged into his topsy-turvy position, still breathing, and still plainly unconscious. Cautiously, painfully he inched himself across a patch of ceiling to a window. The porthole shaped window was miraculously intact. Robert looked out, and was relieved to see that the broken remains of the Vimi rested on solid earth rather than hanging dangerously in the upper story canopy.91

Of the biplane wings on the right side there was no sign. He could see only a short distance through the thick jungle understory. It was as if the jungle had swallowed the large aircraft whole. Looking towards the rear of the plane he realised that the tailplane had been torn off, and that the cargo had half spilled out the gaping hole. The shattered remnants of the wings and right engine were spread back along the path of their crash. And, like the fusalage, allready being swallowed by the re-encroaching jungle growth. 92

He painfully edged his way back to the co-pilot, and over the next few hours was able to extradite him from his twisted perch, and get him laid out on the ceiling/floor. Theo had added his assistance by grabbing a jaw full of the co-pilot’s tropical-weight Sidcot and pulling with all his considerable strength. The man had moaned when moved, but was still unconscious. Without water there was little Robert could do to bathe the man’s wounds or attempt to revive him.93

Extracating the co-pilot had worn Robert out, and started his leg bleeding again. For the next few hours he faded in and out of consciousness. When he awoke he found Theo grinning his doggy grin at him, a canteen lying between his front paws. Overjoyed at the dog’s practical intelligence Sedgewick praised him highly, which earned him a great wag of the tail.94

Sedgewick estimated that the canteen was nearly full. He took several swallows himself, then poured several cap-fulls into Theo’s open mouth. He daren’t give the unconscious man any water, lest he choke. Instead, he merely wet the man's lips and then set the canteen aside; and made a decision.95

Carefully, clearly, he instructed Theo to ‘go find help’, to ‘go find Police’. He repeated this instruction several times, until he was certain that Theo would obey. With some obvious reluctance Theo woprked his way out the broken tail of the airplane, and disappeared into the surrounding jungle. Sedgewick could now do nothing but wait.96

***97

Disregarding the myriad of animal and vegetation smells that pervaded the jungle floor, Theo sought to catch the scent of ‘man’. He had worked closely with his master several times in tracking down wanted men, and had a nose for the different scents of Africans and Europeans he’d experienced in the different regions of British East Africa. But, he had yet to experience jungle environments. 98

For hours he quarted through the undergrowth. The spoor of warthogs, snakes, a lion, rodents, centipedes all assailed his sensitive nostrils. Eventually, as he came across a well-used game trail, he picked up the old scent of ‘man’. Many ‘man’ scents. Despite his sore hip he dashed away, nose to the ground. Every once in a while he would bark an inquisative bark, hoping for an answering human response. 99

Coming across a small stream, Theo drank heartily. Refreshed he searched up and down the bank for the place the men crossed, then plunged across the water and followed the scent on the otherside. Twice troops of monkeys had set up a threat racket at his bounding approach, and thrown fruit and twigs down at the dog. For their troubles they received Theo’s most viscious barking; though he didn’t stay to see the scattering of the troops that this caused.100

Coming around a bend in the gametrail Theo was shocked into rapid halt by the sudden appearance of a man. So sudden and unexpected was his appearance that Theo actually sat on his haunches in order to stop short of the man. Theo was puzzled. The man’s scent was not the one he had been following.101

Somewhat non-plussed by the sudden appearance, Theo drew back a few paces, lowered his head and growled. The man however, did not seem to react in a way that Theo would have expected. Instead of showing fear or hesitation, the human smiled, and slowly squatted down in the middle of the trail, and held out a hand.102

“Here boy. Come here boy. Good dog,” the human said quietly. Then he waited patiently until Theo responded.103

Theo’s master had commanded him to find ‘help’. Was this strange human ‘help’. Theo edged closer and sniffed at the man’s outstreched hand. The man made no move; but continued to speak quietly, “Come here boy. Where is your master, boy? Find your master.”104

Slowly the human stood upright and waited for Theo to react. Theo made a decision, turned and began to backtrack down the trail. The human loped along side the dog, keeping pace all the way. As they ran the human began to pick up the faint scent of petrol. In two hours they were back at the airplane, with Theo forcefully barking his return. There was no response from inside the aircraft to Theo’s barking. He wimpered and worked his way through the debris.105

The human took a quick assessment of the crashed plane. The wings had been torn off as it careered through the upperstory. Petrol from the engines had leaked out and filled the area with its stink. The cabin was inverted, torn and enmeshed with the broken foliage. He worked his way into the rear of the plane. He came first to the body of the dead pilot. There was no need to check twice.106

In the forward section of the plane, near the cockpit, he found two living persons. A man in a pilot’s Sidcot was unconscious, posibly in a coma. Then there was a man, obviously the dog’s owner from the attention he was receiving, beginning to come around as a result of the dog’s joyful licking.107

Taking the nearly empty canteen, Tarzan gave the man a drink. “Who… who…are you?” the injured man asked.108

“My name is Tarzan. District Commissioner Granville sent me to find you. There is a Police search party on its way here. I have to go fetch them. I think you will be alright in the care of your dog. He found me and led me here.”109

“Good boy, Theo, good boy!” Sedgewick enthused proudly. “I’m Robert Sedgewick, the replacement for Commissionere Granville. I…”110

“I know,” Tarzan said simply. “I’m pleased to see you alive.” He gave Sedgewick’s injuries the once-over. “I think you’ll be OK until I return with the police patrol.”111

“Thank you Tarzan,” Sedgewick said to Tarzan’s back as he made his way out of the rear of the plane. Taking to the vines and the trees, Tarzan travelled swiftly towards the projected route of the police search party. By midday he had found them as they crossed the river by raft. Quickly discussing distance and heading with the constable-in-charge, Tarzan urged them to move quickly to the crash site. 112

As the police party was about to set off, Lady Greystoke’s team hailed them from the far bank. Urging the police to leave without him, Tarzan poled across the croc infested waterway on the police raft. A loving greeting, an explanation, and Tarzan hurried the second team across the river and onward behind the police patrol.113

Harried by Tarzan’s exhortations the second team quickly caught up with the police patrol, and the combined team pushed on to the crash site, arriving just before dusk. Lady Greystokes and the Police constable administered first aid to Sedgewick; removing the large fragment of wood, bandaging the puncture, splinted and immobilised the broken arm. The unconscious co-pilot they bandaged and checked for broken bones. Though covered with bruises, his major injuries were to his face and scalp. They suspected a severe concussion. 114

At first light the two injured men were placed on the stretchers that Jane had brought and carried back to Merosi patrol post, and then on to the Infirmary at the Anglican Mission. The body of the pilot was taken to Merosi, and placed in a quickly constructed casket for shipment back to Nairobi on the next available cargo flight. The co-pilot remained in a coma, and despite the attention of the mission doctor, never regained consciousness, dying several days later. His body also was eventually flown back to Nairobi.115

Commissioner Sedgewick knew something about leg wounds and recuperation, and submitted willingly to the ministrations of the nurses and doctor at the mission Infirmary. His fractured forearm was re-set and encased in plaster. The punctured calf muscle was cleaned and allowed to close naturally. His stay in hospital was made bareable by the presence of his faithful Theodoric in the ward; quite against the normal rules, but allowed in the face of Theo’s bared fangs whenever the doctor mentioned those rules. The outgoing Commissioner, Tarzan and Jane visted every few days, while various police officers came in on a roster to report to their new Commissioner, and help bring him up to speed on the district.116

A few days before Robert was due to be discharged, retiring Commissioner Granvile, Tarzan and Jane all showed up together. The Commissioner brought along Robert’s clothes salvaged from the crash site. Tarzan, dressed in his customary khaki shirt and pants, brought a bone to occupy Theo. Jane brought along a sprig of red Bouganvillea cut from their estate’s garden to brighten the ward.117

As Tarzan, Jane and Sir Charles stood around Sedgewick’s bed in the mission infirmary, the Sargent arrived with the text of a just arrived wireless telegraphy transmission. Handing it to Sir Charles, the Sargent greeted everyone before leaving the ward. Sir Charles read the transcript to himself, laughed and then read the text aloud to the other three.118

Yes!–stop- Father surrenders-stop-Arrive Mombasa on MV Treharne 12 Sept –stop- Arrive Sawahil District airfield 14 Sept w/LJ–stop- Request Lady JG as MOH–stop- Lord G as BM–stop-
Lv-stop-
EW-end-119

Robert visibly brightened, looked a bit stunned, and murmured “She said ‘Yes!’ several times. “Just think of that!” he concluded, his grin getting larger. “But what do MOH and BM mean?” he asked them, puzzled.120

Lady Greystokes snickered. “She means ‘Matron of Honour’, and ‘Best Man’, District Commissioner Sedgewick.”121

“But how would Elizabeth know to ask the two of you?”122

She laughed aloud, looked down at the patient, took his hand as if he were some dense and ignorant waif, and said, “Because, dear Captain Charles Robert Sedgewick, M.C., late of the Grenadier Guards, I am the Lady Jane Greystokes after whom your fiancee, Miss Elizabeth Wallingford, named her most prized Alsatian." 123

Sedgewick looked shocked, but was about to be more so.124

"We were roommates at the Folkstone Ladies’ College, and I have known all about you from the day you first lent on Elizabeth’s fence.” She bent low and spoke directly into an ear; “You don’t think you met in that lane the next day just by accident, do you?”125

Sedgewick’s stunned and embarrased look was so pitious that they all started laughing; until the bandaged and plastered Robert begged them to stop. But in the end he was smiling broadly too. 126

Theo, his own wounds stitched and healed nicely, rose from his blanket next to the bed, gave one very loud “Woof”, and licked his master’s unbandaged hand in celebration.127

128

The END, TARZAN and the BLACK ALSATIAN129

* * * *130

“Now that was a yarn,” I said to myself as I finally put the manuscript down. “Hmmm,” I thought to myself. A few phone calls later and I had the address of the executors of Burrough’s estate:131

Edgar Rice Burroughs, Inc.
P.O. Box 570277
Tarzana, CA 91357-0277132

Letters to them and their lawyers eventually resulted in identifying Dad’s manuscript as the sole copy of an unpublished Burrough’s work. Several more months of negotiations followed, resulting in Dad’s trust keeping possession of the manuscript and receiving some royalties, and the Burrough’s trust getting publishing rights.133

At the end of all that process Bob and I went out and bought the children an Alsatian puppy. The kids named him “Tarzan”, and he was their active playmate until they all left for college. He lived out his ‘retirement’ with Bob and I, and lives on through the progeny he sired. Our current Alsatian, one of his granddaughters, we named ‘Lady Jane’. 134

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