“Wonderful climate,” said Roosevelt. “Just wonderful!”
“Father, I’d like to speak to you for a few moments, if I may.”
Roosevelt carefully tucked the notebook back into his breast pocket. “Certainly,” he replied. “What would you like to talk about?”
Kermit looked around, found another canvas chair, carried it over next to his father, and sat down on it.
“This entire enterprise seems ill-conceived, Father.”
Roosevelt seemed amused. “That’s your considered opinion, is it?”
“One man can’t civilize a country half the size of the United States,” continued Kermit. “Not even you.”
“Kermit, when I was twelve years old, the best doctors in the world told me I’d always be underweight and sickly,” said Roosevelt. “But when I was nineteen, I was the lightweight boxing champion of Harvard.”
“I know, Father.”
“Don’t interrupt. People told me I couldn’t write a proper sentence, but I’ve written twenty books, and four of them have been bestsellers. They told me that politics was no place for a young man, but when I was 24 I was Minority Leader of the New York State Legislature. They told me that law and order had no place in the West, but I went out and single-handedly captured three armed killers in the Dakota Bad Lands during the Winter of the Blue Snow.” Roosevelt paused. “Even my Rough Riders said we couldn’t take San Juan Hill; I took it.” He stared at his son. “So don’t tell me what I can’t do, Kermit.”
“But this isn’t like anything else you’ve done,” persisted Kermit.
“What better reason is there to do it?” said Roosevelt with a delighted grin.
“But — ”
“Ex-Presidents are supposed to sit around in their rocking chairs and only come out for parades. Well, I’m 51 years old, and I’m not ready to retire yet. Another opportunity like this may never come along.” Roosevelt gazed off to the west, toward the Congo. “Think of it, Kermit! More than half a million square miles, filled with nothing but animals and savages and a few missionaries. The British and French and Portugese and Belgians and Italians all have had their chance at this continent; Africa ought to have one country developed by someone who will bring them American know-how and American democracy and American values. We’re a rustic, frontier race ourselves; who better to civilize yet another frontier?” He paused, envisioning a future that was as clear to him as the present. “And think of the natural resources! We’ll turn it into a protectorate, and give it favored nation trading status. There’s lumber here to build thirty million houses, and where we’ve cleared the forests away we’ll create farms and cities. It will be America all over again — only this time there will be no slavery, no genocide practiced against an indigenous people, no slaughter of the buffalo. I’ll use America not as a blueprint, but as a first draft, and I’ll learn from our past mistakes.”
“But it isn’t another America, Father,” said Kermit. “It’s a harsh, savage country, filled with hundreds of tribes whose only experience with white men is slavery.”
“Then they’ll be happy to find a white man who is willing to redress the balance, won’t they?” replied Roosevelt with a confident smile.
“What about the legalities involved?” persisted Kermit. “The Congo is a Belgian colony.”
“They’ve had their chance, and they’ve muddled it badly.” Roosevelt paused. “Suppose you let me worry about the Belgians.”
Kermit seemed about to argue the point, then realized the fruitlessness of further debate. “All right,” he said with a sigh.
“Was there anything else?”
“Yes,” said Kermit. “What do you know about this man Boyes?”
“The man’s a true pioneer,” said Roosevelt admiringly. “He should have been an American.”
Kermit shook his head. “The man’s a scalawag.”
“That’s your conclusion after being wined and dined in his tent for a single evening?”
“No, Father. But while you were taking your morning walk and watching birds, I was talking to some of his companions about him. They thought they were bragging about him and telling me stories that would impress me — but what I heard gave me a true picture of the man.”
“For example?” asked Roosevelt.
“He’s always in trouble — with the law, with the British army, with the Colonial Office.” Kermit paused. “They’ve tried to deport him from East Africa twice. Did you know that?”
“Certainly I know it,” answered Roosevelt. Suddenly he grinned and pointed to a small book that was on the table next to his binoculars. “I spent most of the night reading his memoirs. Remarkable man!”
“Then you know that the British government arrested him for…” Kermit searched for the word.
“Dacoity?”
Kermit nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you know what it means?” asked his father.
“No,” admitted Kermit.
“In this particular case, it means that he signed a treaty with the Kikuyu and got them to open their land to white settlement, and some higher-up in the Colonial government felt that Mr. Boyes was usurping his authority.” Roosevelt chuckled. “So they sent a squad of six men into Kikuyuland to arrest him, and they found him surrounded by five thousand armed warriors. And since none of the arresting officers cared very much for the odds, Mr. Boyes volunteered to march all the way to Mombasa on his own recognizance.” Roosevelt paused and grinned. “When he walked into court with his five thousand Kikuyu, the case was immediately thrown out.” He laughed. “Now, that’s a story that could have come out of our own Wild West.”
“There were other stories, too, Father,” said Kermit. “Less savory stories.”
“Good,” said Roosevelt. “Then he and I will have something to talk about on the way to the Congo.”
“You know, of course, that he’s the so-called White King of the Kikuyu.”
“And I’m an honorary Indian chief. We have a lot in common.”
“You have nothing in common,” protested Kermit. “You helped our Indians. Boyes became king through deceit and treachery.”
“He walked into a savage kingdom that had never permitted a white man to enter it before, and within two years he became the king of the entire Kikuyu nation. That’s just the kind of man I need for the work at hand.”
“But Father — ”
“This is a harsh, savage land, Kermit, and I’m embarking on an enterprise that is neither for the timid nor the weak,” said Roosevelt with finality. “He’s the man I want.”
“You’re certain that you won’t reconsider?”
Roosevelt shook his head. “The subject is closed.”
Kermit stared at his father for a long moment, then sighed in defeat.
“What shall I tell Mother?”
“Edith will understand,” said Roosevelt. “She has always understood. Tell her I’ll send for her as soon as I’ve got a proper place to house us all.” Suddenly he grinned again. “Maybe we should send for your sister Alice immediately. If there’s any native opposition, she can terrify them into submission, just the way she used to do with my Cabinet.”
“I’m being serious, Father.”
“So am I, Kermit. America’s never had an empire, and doesn’t want one — but I made us a world power, and if I can increase our influence on a continent where we’ve yet to gain a foothold, then it’s my duty to do so.”
“And it’ll be such fun,” suggested Kermit knowingly.
Roosevelt flashed his son another grin. “It will be absolutely bully!”
Kermit stared at his father for a moment. “If I can’t talk you out of this enterprise, I wish you’d let me stay here with you.”
Roosevelt shook his head. “Someone has to make sure all the trophies we’ve taken get to the American Museum on schedule. Besides, if we both stay here, the press will be sure I died during the safari. You’ve got to go back and tell them about the work I’m doing here.” Suddenly he frowned. “Oh, and you’ll have to see my editor at Scribner’s and tell him that I’ll be a little late on the safari manuscript. I’ll start working on it as soon as we set up a permanent camp.” He paused again. “Oh, yes. Before you woke up this morning, I gave a number of letters to Mr. Cunninghame, who will accompany you for the remainder of the journey. I want you to mail them when you get back to the States. The sooner we get some engineers and heavy equipment over here, the better.”