Great White Hunter Meets Californa Jack

The Great White Hunter meets California Jack

October 3 1964, I find myself wandering alone through the great Kalahari Desert of South Africa.  The Sun beats down on my shoulders and the back of my sweat drenched neck.  I had removed my shirt and with a bit of ingenuity made it into a canteen, none the less my water supply was dwindling.

Now your probably wondering how I came to be in such a dire situation yet again.  Even asking hour self didn't he learn his lesson in Burma in 46, in Shanghai in 52, or better yet in Arabia in 43, and don't forget Shanghai in 62.  You should know the great white hunter is never discouraged by his past failures, one of many traits that make me so deadly. 

But to answer your question it all started two weeks ago when my old war buddy Lanigan tracked me down in Morocco, and clamed he had a plan to steal $800,000,000 worth of uncut diamonds from a newly discovered mine in South Africa.  We pooled our resources and bought an old war relic of a plane and set off.  As we flew over the Kalahari we lost oil pressure in our only engine and went down.  Lanigan managed to land us safely, but the plane was done for.  I then berated him for fancying himself a pilot when he had no license nor common sense enough to perform basic pre-flight checks.

We then set off into the vast and unforgiving desert.  We traveled for three days living off rotten maggot infested gazelle meat and lion urine (quite good once you procure a taste for it).  On the fourth day I noticed Lanigan looked ill.  Suddenly he began to yell pure madness and run around in circles.  I realized an African red sandworm must have burrowed into his brain when he took a sip of water from an elephant wallow.  This would explain the madness, but there was little I could do for him. 

I had "Potshot" my lucky rifle with me and a few dozen founds of ammo.  I pondered ending his misery for him, but before I could act he bolted off into the bush.  I perused him briefly but soon herd the unmistakable roar of a lion followed by the eerie screams of the dying limey bastard.

So I return to the opening of this tale where I was wondering though the bush low on water.  I approached a thicket where I thought I might rest for a while and cool down.  As I drew near a volley of spears shot out at me.  With out hesitation I swung about my rifle and deflected the spears.  Then a cavalcade of Mumbary tribal hunters came riding out of the thicket on giant boars straight for me.  I remembered boars while ferric still fear the king of the Kalahari, the lion.  I flung my flask of lion urine into the air and the boars quickly cut and ran for safety.  Being a skilled bushman I knew they would lead me to a village with food and water.

After following their tracks for several hours I spotted a village silhouetted by the setting sun I knew I was being setup for a surprise attack, but I was driven to haste by my unbearable thirst.  As I approached the outskirts of the village things seemed too quiet, then I spotted a great tall figure standing alone holding a rifle in his left hand and several spears in the other.  I couldn't make out his face due to lack of light.  However I could tell by the way he held the rifle he did not intend to use it, and by the spears I was guessing he was out of ammo. 

I called out "Who are you?"  He was silent, and I was fed up.  I sprang towards him dodging every spear he threw until he had no more.  Then I lunged straight at his gut, But before I made contact he cracked me over the head with the but of his rifle.  I was out before I hit the ground.

I awoke the next morning tied to a pole in a small dusty hut.  The same warrior his back to me, he was checking out my rifle, his old rifle was propped up against the wall of the hut.  "Who are you?"  I shouted at him.

He laughed and answered "Call me California Jack."  He turned around and grinned.  Despite his dark complexion his features looked caucasian. "Your wondering who I am And why I am here aren't you?" He grabbed a gourd and poured some water down my throat. 

"let me tell you my story, When I was young I was a California beach bum who came from a rich family, I had no worries or expectations.  As I grew older that changed I desired more than a killer tan, So I set off to surf the world.  But my plane crashed and I was saved by the Mumbaty.  Since I fell from the sky with this rifle, the likes of which they had never seen they thought I was a God.  So naturally I stayed here. Now you must understand my people still fear the white man that is why you're being treated as such.  Unfortunately I ran out of ammo some time ago and some of the villagers are beginning to doubt my power.  Another reason I am keeping you away from them, If they discovered who I truly am they will kill both of us.  So I trust you will understand when I ask for your help."

After his ridiculous story I found my self coursed on to the heights branches of a lone tree.  About three miles from the village.  From the tree we could see a crude trap that California Jack had constructed out of weeds and twine, in hopes of catching a dreaded white rhino.

He had explained as we built the trap on a well traveled game trail, that rhino had harassed the village for nearly a year. After being forced from its home range due to encroachment of white farmers.  I had in turn told him that no simple trap could ever hope to hold a white rhino.  He insisted we need not capture it but only hold it for a moment so I could unload my rifle into it.  Again I suggested that with such a poorly built trap we would be lucky to hold it that long.  As we sat there in the treetop he hummed an annoying tune to no end.  I was ready to throw him out of the tree when he suddenly stopped.  "Look!" he said pointing toward the trap. 

The rhino was tangled in the tangle of weeds and twine.  "Hurry kill it!" he cried grabbing my arm and preventing me from aiming properly.  "Let go you fool!" I shouted as we began to quarrel over the rifle.  "Just give me some ammo." He said reaching in to my bag.  I slapped his hand away and dozens of shells rained out of the tree.  Now I had only the five shells in my rifles chamber.  It was in this moment of chaos that the rhino drawn by our commotion rammed into the tree.  With a jolt and a great thud we both fell out of the tree and onto the rhinos back. 

I sat near the head facing back towards Jack, he sat opposing me.  The rhino was not keen on being ridden, and began to rampage about wildly.  Now sitting face to face on the back of the furious beast in the middle of a god forsaken desert we continued to scrap.  Both of us swinging our rifles at one another.  I did not shoot first of all to conserve ammo for the rhino, and as a matter of honor between two dueling Bushmen.  We held on tight, Jack got in a good hit followed by another.  I realized he was strong but over confident, so I let my self slip some to throw off his guard.  He lunged ford to knock me off the beast, it was then I jabbed him in the gut with the but of my rifle.  He let out a oafff and slid off the rhinos back.

With that nuisance out of my way I flipped around and held my rifle to the rhinos neck, suddenly I was bucked off.  I fell onto the hot course sand, I rolled momentarily then sprang to my feet just in time to see the rhino charging at me.  I quickly dogged behind a rock and the clumsy beast roared by I held my rifle steady and took aim I unloaded three shots as soon as I could see its head.  I narrowly missed grazing the beast and infuriating it even more.  It charged at me again, and again I took aim and pulled the trigger.  Nothing, the gun was jammed with the desert sand.  The rhino rapidly approaching lowered its head to run me through with its great horn.  I knew the next moment would have to be timed perfectly, or this would be my last hunt.  As the rhino drew ever closer I held my position until it was within ten feet of me, then I sprang up and leapt to the other side of the rock that now lay behind me.  The rhino while strong and swift was no match for the ancient steadfast stone.

I rose to my feet as the sun fell to the west, I dusted myself off and headed south.  I hoped that somewhere in South Africa there was still a fortune waiting for me.  I walked south Knowing that somewhere out in the desert was a very angry California Jack whom I would one day meet again.  Perhaps then he would have ammo to shoot back with.