finished_summaries/gradesaver/King Solomon's Mines/section_1_part_0.txt
King Solomon's Mines.chapter 3
chapter 3
{"name": "Chapter 3", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20200804024551/https://www.gradesaver.com/king-solomons-mines/study-guide/summary-chapter-3", "summary": "The Dunkeld arrives in the port of Durban, but so late in the day that the passengers remain on board for the night. Allan Quatermain gives Sir Henry his terms: all expenses are to be paid by Sir Henry, any ivory obtained along the way is to be divided equally between Quatermain and Good, Sir Henry is to pay Quatermain 500 English pounds as a retainer for his service throughout expedition, and Sir Henry is to approve a deed guaranteeing 200 pounds annually for five years to Quatermain's son Harry should misfortune befall Quatermain in the expedition. Sir Henry readily agrees to these terms. Quatermain then explains his reasoning for these specific terms of hire. He has not been able to make provision for his son's time at medical school to guarantee the boy will be able to complete his studies and acquire a livelihood. Furthermore, Quatermain believes he is living on borrowed time, as he has outlived most elephant hunters five times over, so he knows his time of death draws near. Finally, he believes the expedition to the Suliman Mountains will end in disaster, as the previous three known explorers died without having found their goal. Sir Henry is not daunted by Quatermain's fatalism, so driven is he to find his brother. Upon disembarking to Durban, the three men immediately take care of the deed required for Quatermain's service. Once that is legally approved, Quatermain sets about outfitting the expedition. He buys a sturdy wagon and a team of oxen, and then supplies it from Sir Henry's cache of weapons and local goods. Quatermain readily finds a Zulu driver, Goza, and a Zulu leader, Tom. In search of three servants, Quatermain at first only finds two likely candidates: Ventvogel, a Hottentot tracker, and Khiva, a Zulu who speaks English. Quatermain decides to leave the third servant position to be filled as they begin their journey. However, the evening before they set out, the mysterious Umbopa comes to Quatermain and requests to enter his service on the expedition. Quatermain recalls that he made Umbopa's acquaintance briefly during the Zulu Wars. Umbopa has spoken out that his side of the conflict was ill-fated that day, just prior to their defeat. Umbopa explains that he is a man without a kraal who wishes to use his skills in this endeavor. Quatermain believes Umbopa to be an honorable man who is not telling the whole truth. Sir Henry, however, wholeheartedly approves of Umbopa when he sees how tall and strong he is. Umbopa notes, as he stands beside the equally powerfully-built Sir Henry, \"We are men, you and I.\"", "analysis": "Haggard continues evoking the concept of a reluctant hero in Quatermain's grudging acceptance of Sir Henry's offer.  He cites his own impecunious circumstances and his son's upcoming financial needs as his rationale for accepting the quest.  Haggard draws a parallel to Odysseus' own reluctant acceptance of the mission to sack Troy, wherein the Ithacan king was forced to give up his deception of madness in order to spare his baby son's life. In the person of Umbopa, Haggard introduces the lost-son motif common to many adventure tales and heroic quests.  Umbopa is taken to be a Zulu by Quatermain, but he is \"very light-coloured for a Zulu\" .  Quatermain takes notice that Umbopa is a \"ringed man,\" meaning that he wears a black ring worked into his hair \"usually assumed by Zulus on attaining a certain age or dignity\" .  Umbopa's air of equality with Sir Henry annoys Quatermain, but hints to the reader that Umbopa may be more than a mere Zulu guide and hunter looking for work. Quatermain's frustration at Umbopa's attitude belies a deeper conviction of the ignorance, and therefore inferiority, of the African peoples to Europeans.  This sense of European, white superiority arises throughout King Solomon's Mines, and is not limited merely to a comparison between Europe and Africa.  Earlier in the chapter, noting the abuse the luggage is taking at the hands of Kafir porters, Quatermain tells the Kafirs that the champagne they have just drunk--after having broken it in their negligent handling--is \"the white man's strongest medicine, and that they were as good as dead men\" .  Inexperienced with the bubbling of champagne, the Kafirs believe him. Haggard's personal views on racial relations are harder to pin down from this novel, for Quatermain is already established as an unreliable narrator.  The future fate of Umbopa, too, indicates a higher respect for the African people than is present in many of Haggard's contemporaries.  Ultimately, the reader sees that Quatermain reflects a somewhat liberal view common to the white men of nineteenth-century England.  This mixture of respect and patronizing will be seen in later chapters."}
It takes from four to five days, according to the speed of the vessel
and the state of the weather, to run up from the Cape to Durban.
Sometimes, if the landing is bad at East London, where they have not
yet made that wonderful harbour they talk so much of, and sink such a
mint of money in, a ship is delayed for twenty-four hours before the
cargo boats can get out to take off the goods. But on this occasion we
had not to wait at all, for there were no breakers on the Bar to speak
of, and the tugs came out at once with the long strings of ugly
flat-bottomed boats behind them, into which the packages were bundled
with a crash. It did not matter what they might be, over they went
slap-bang; whether they contained china or woollen goods they met with
the same treatment. I saw one case holding four dozen of champagne
smashed all to bits, and there was the champagne fizzing and boiling
about in the bottom of the dirty cargo boat. It was a wicked waste, and
evidently so the Kafirs in the boat thought, for they found a couple of
unbroken bottles, and knocking off the necks drank the contents. But
they had not allowed for the expansion caused by the fizz in the wine,
and, feeling themselves swelling, rolled about in the bottom of the
boat, calling out that the good liquor was "tagati"--that is,
bewitched. I spoke to them from the vessel, and told them it was the
white man's strongest medicine, and that they were as good as dead men.
Those Kafirs went to the shore in a very great fright, and I do not
think that they will touch champagne again.

Well, all the time that we were steaming up to Natal I was thinking
over Sir Henry Curtis's offer. We did not speak any more on the subject
for a day or two, though I told them many hunting yarns, all true ones.
There is no need to tell lies about hunting, for so many curious things
happen within the knowledge of a man whose business it is to hunt; but
this is by the way.

At last, one beautiful evening in January, which is our hottest month,
we steamed past the coast of Natal, expecting to make Durban Point by
sunset. It is a lovely coast all along from East London, with its red
sandhills and wide sweeps of vivid green, dotted here and there with
Kafir kraals, and bordered by a ribbon of white surf, which spouts up
in pillars of foam where it hits the rocks. But just before you come to
Durban there is a peculiar richness about the landscape. There are the
sheer kloofs cut in the hills by the rushing rains of centuries, down
which the rivers sparkle; there is the deepest green of the bush,
growing as God planted it, and the other greens of the mealie gardens
and the sugar patches, while now and again a white house, smiling out
at the placid sea, puts a finish and gives an air of homeliness to the
scene. For to my mind, however beautiful a view may be, it requires the
presence of man to make it complete, but perhaps that is because I have
lived so much in the wilderness, and therefore know the value of
civilisation, though to be sure it drives away the game. The Garden of
Eden, no doubt, looked fair before man was, but I always think that it
must have been fairer when Eve adorned it.

To return, we had miscalculated a little, and the sun was well down
before we dropped anchor off the Point, and heard the gun which told
the good folks of Durban that the English Mail was in. It was too late
to think of getting over the Bar that night, so we went comfortably to
dinner, after seeing the Mails carried off in the life-boat.

When we came up again the moon was out, and shining so brightly over
sea and shore that she almost paled the quick, large flashes from the
lighthouse. From the shore floated sweet spicy odours that always
remind me of hymns and missionaries, and in the windows of the houses
on the Berea sparkled a hundred lights. From a large brig lying near
also came the music of the sailors as they worked at getting the anchor
up in order to be ready for the wind. Altogether it was a perfect
night, such a night as you sometimes get in Southern Africa, and it
threw a garment of peace over everybody as the moon threw a garment of
silver over everything. Even the great bulldog, belonging to a sporting
passenger, seemed to yield to its gentle influences, and forgetting his
yearning to come to close quarters with the baboon in a cage on the
foc'sle, snored happily at the door of the cabin, dreaming no doubt
that he had finished him, and happy in his dream.

We three--that is, Sir Henry Curtis, Captain Good, and myself--went and
sat by the wheel, and were quiet for a while.

"Well, Mr. Quatermain," said Sir Henry presently, "have you been
thinking about my proposals?"

"Ay," echoed Captain Good, "what do you think of them, Mr. Quatermain?
I hope that you are going to give us the pleasure of your company so
far as Solomon's Mines, or wherever the gentleman you knew as Neville
may have got to."

I rose and knocked out my pipe before I answered. I had not made up my
mind, and wanted an additional moment to decide. Before the burning
tobacco had fallen into the sea I had decided; just that little extra
second did the trick. It is often the way when you have been bothering
a long time over a thing.

"Yes, gentlemen," I said, sitting down again, "I will go, and by your
leave I will tell you why, and on what conditions. First for the terms
which I ask.

"1. You are to pay all expenses, and any ivory or other valuables we
may get is to be divided between Captain Good and myself.

"2. That you give me L500 for my services on the trip before we start,
I undertaking to serve you faithfully till you choose to abandon the
enterprise, or till we succeed, or disaster overtakes us.

"3. That before we trek you execute a deed agreeing, in the event of my
death or disablement, to pay my boy Harry, who is studying medicine
over there in London, at Guy's Hospital, a sum of L200 a year for five
years, by which time he ought to be able to earn a living for himself
if he is worth his salt. That is all, I think, and I daresay you will
say quite enough too."

"No," answered Sir Henry, "I accept them gladly. I am bent upon this
project, and would pay more than that for your help, considering the
peculiar and exclusive knowledge which you possess."

"Pity I did not ask it, then, but I won't go back on my word. And now
that I have got my terms I will tell you my reasons for making up my
mind to go. First of all, gentlemen, I have been observing you both for
the last few days, and if you will not think me impertinent I may say
that I like you, and believe that we shall come up well to the yoke
together. That is something, let me tell you, when one has a long
journey like this before one.

"And now as to the journey itself, I tell you flatly, Sir Henry and
Captain Good, that I do not think it probable we can come out of it
alive, that is, if we attempt to cross the Suliman Mountains. What was
the fate of the old Dom da Silvestra three hundred years ago? What was
the fate of his descendant twenty years ago? What has been your
brother's fate? I tell you frankly, gentlemen, that as their fates were
so I believe ours will be."

I paused to watch the effect of my words. Captain Good looked a little
uncomfortable, but Sir Henry's face did not change. "We must take our
chance," he said.

"You may perhaps wonder," I went on, "why, if I think this, I, who am,
as I told you, a timid man, should undertake such a journey. It is for
two reasons. First I am a fatalist, and believe that my time is
appointed to come quite without reference to my own movements and will,
and that if I am to go to Suliman's Mountains to be killed, I shall go
there and shall be killed. God Almighty, no doubt, knows His mind about
me, so I need not trouble on that point. Secondly, I am a poor man. For
nearly forty years I have hunted and traded, but I have never made more
than a living. Well, gentlemen, I don't know if you are aware that the
average life of an elephant hunter from the time he takes to the trade
is between four and five years. So you see I have lived through about
seven generations of my class, and I should think that my time cannot
be far off, anyway. Now, if anything were to happen to me in the
ordinary course of business, by the time my debts are paid there would
be nothing left to support my son Harry whilst he was getting in the
way of earning a living, whereas now he will be set up for five years.
There is the whole affair in a nutshell."

"Mr. Quatermain," said Sir Henry, who had been giving me his most
serious attention, "your motives for undertaking an enterprise which
you believe can only end in disaster reflect a great deal of credit on
you. Whether or not you are right, of course time and the event alone
can show. But whether you are right or wrong, I may as well tell you at
once that I am going through with it to the end, sweet or bitter. If we
are to be knocked on the head, all I have to say is, that I hope we get
a little shooting first, eh, Good?"

"Yes, yes," put in the captain. "We have all three of us been
accustomed to face danger, and to hold our lives in our hands in
various ways, so it is no good turning back now. And now I vote we go
down to the saloon and take an observation just for luck, you know."
And we did--through the bottom of a tumbler.

Next day we went ashore, and I put up Sir Henry and Captain Good at the
little shanty I have built on the Berea, and which I call my home.
There are only three rooms and a kitchen in it, and it is constructed
of green brick with a galvanised iron roof, but there is a good garden
with the best loquot trees in it that I know, and some nice young
mangoes, of which I hope great things. The curator of the botanical
gardens gave them to me. It is looked after by an old hunter of mine
named Jack, whose thigh was so badly broken by a buffalo cow in
Sikukunis country that he will never hunt again. But he can potter
about and garden, being a Griqua by birth. You will never persuade a
Zulu to take much interest in gardening. It is a peaceful art, and
peaceful arts are not in his line.

Sir Henry and Good slept in a tent pitched in my little grove of orange
trees at the end of the garden, for there was no room for them in the
house, and what with the smell of the bloom, and the sight of the green
and golden fruit--in Durban you will see all three on the tree
together--I daresay it is a pleasant place enough, for we have few
mosquitos here on the Berea, unless there happens to come an unusually
heavy rain.

Well, to get on--for if I do not, Harry, you will be tired of my story
before ever we fetch up at Suliman's Mountains--having once made up my
mind to go I set about making the necessary preparations. First I
secured the deed from Sir Henry, providing for you, my boy, in case of
accidents. There was some difficulty about its legal execution, as Sir
Henry was a stranger here, and the property to be charged is over the
water; but it was ultimately got over with the help of a lawyer, who
charged L20 for the job--a price that I thought outrageous. Then I
pocketed my cheque for L500.

Having paid this tribute to my bump of caution, I purchased a wagon and
a span of oxen on Sir Henry's behalf, and beauties they were. It was a
twenty-two-foot wagon with iron axles, very strong, very light, and
built throughout of stink wood; not quite a new one, having been to the
Diamond Fields and back, but, in my opinion, all the better for that,
for I could see that the wood was well seasoned. If anything is going
to give in a wagon, or if there is green wood in it, it will show out
on the first trip. This particular vehicle was what we call a
"half-tented" wagon, that is to say, only covered in over the after
twelve feet, leaving all the front part free for the necessaries we had
to carry with us. In this after part were a hide "cartle," or bed, on
which two people could sleep, also racks for rifles, and many other
little conveniences. I gave L125 for it, and think that it was cheap at
the price.

Then I bought a beautiful team of twenty Zulu oxen, which I had kept my
eye on for a year or two. Sixteen oxen is the usual number for a team,
but I took four extra to allow for casualties. These Zulu cattle are
small and light, not more than half the size of the Africander oxen,
which are generally used for transport purposes; but they will live
where the Africanders would starve, and with a moderate load can make
five miles a day better going, being quicker and not so liable to
become footsore. What is more, this lot were thoroughly "salted," that
is, they had worked all over South Africa, and so had become proof,
comparatively speaking, against red water, which so frequently destroys
whole teams of oxen when they get on to strange "veldt" or grass
country. As for "lung sick," which is a dreadful form of pneumonia,
very prevalent in this country, they had all been inoculated against
it. This is done by cutting a slit in the tail of an ox, and binding in
a piece of the diseased lung of an animal which has died of the
sickness. The result is that the ox sickens, takes the disease in a
mild form, which causes its tail to drop off, as a rule about a foot
from the root, and becomes proof against future attacks. It seems cruel
to rob the animal of his tail, especially in a country where there are
so many flies, but it is better to sacrifice the tail and keep the ox
than to lose both tail and ox, for a tail without an ox is not much
good, except to dust with. Still it does look odd to trek along behind
twenty stumps, where there ought to be tails. It seems as though Nature
made a trifling mistake, and stuck the stern ornaments of a lot of
prize bull-dogs on to the rumps of the oxen.

Next came the question of provisioning and medicines, one which
required the most careful consideration, for what we had to do was to
avoid lumbering the wagon, and yet to take everything absolutely
necessary. Fortunately, it turned out that Good is a bit of a doctor,
having at some point in his previous career managed to pass through a
course of medical and surgical instruction, which he has more or less
kept up. He is not, of course, qualified, but he knows more about it
than many a man who can write M.D. after his name, as we found out
afterwards, and he had a splendid travelling medicine chest and a set
of instruments. Whilst we were at Durban he cut off a Kafir's big toe
in a way which it was a pleasure to see. But he was quite nonplussed
when the Kafir, who had sat stolidly watching the operation, asked him
to put on another, saying that a "white one" would do at a pinch.

There remained, when these questions were satisfactorily settled, two
further important points for consideration, namely, that of arms and
that of servants. As to the arms I cannot do better than put down a
list of those which we finally decided on from among the ample store
that Sir Henry had brought with him from England, and those which I
owned. I copy it from my pocket-book, where I made the entry at the
time.

"Three heavy breech-loading double-eight elephant guns, weighing about
fifteen pounds each, to carry a charge of eleven drachms of black
powder." Two of these were by a well-known London firm, most excellent
makers, but I do not know by whom mine, which is not so highly
finished, was made. I have used it on several trips, and shot a good
many elephants with it, and it has always proved a most superior
weapon, thoroughly to be relied on.

"Three double-500 Expresses, constructed to stand a charge of six
drachms," sweet weapons, and admirable for medium-sized game, such as
eland or sable antelope, or for men, especially in an open country and
with the semi-hollow bullet.

"One double No. 12 central-fire Keeper's shot-gun, full choke both
barrels." This gun proved of the greatest service to us afterwards in
shooting game for the pot.

"Three Winchester repeating rifles (not carbines), spare guns.

"Three single-action Colt's revolvers, with the heavier, or American
pattern of cartridge."

This was our total armament, and doubtless the reader will observe that
the weapons of each class were of the same make and calibre, so that
the cartridges were interchangeable, a very important point. I make no
apology for detailing it at length, as every experienced hunter will
know how vital a proper supply of guns and ammunition is to the success
of an expedition.

Now as to the men who were to go with us. After much consultation we
decided that their number should be limited to five, namely, a driver,
a leader, and three servants.

The driver and leader I found without much difficulty, two Zulus, named
respectively Goza and Tom; but to get the servants proved a more
difficult matter. It was necessary that they should be thoroughly
trustworthy and brave men, as in a business of this sort our lives
might depend upon their conduct. At last I secured two, one a Hottentot
named Ventvoegel, or "windbird," and one a little Zulu named Khiva, who
had the merit of speaking English perfectly. Ventvoegel I had known
before; he was one of the most perfect "spoorers," that is, game
trackers, I ever had to do with, and tough as whipcord. He never seemed
to tire. But he had one failing, so common with his race, drink. Put
him within reach of a bottle of gin and you could not trust him.
However, as we were going beyond the region of grog-shops this little
weakness of his did not so much matter.

Having secured these two men I looked in vain for a third to suit my
purpose, so we determined to start without one, trusting to luck to
find a suitable man on our way up country. But, as it happened, on the
evening before the day we had fixed for our departure the Zulu Khiva
informed me that a Kafir was waiting to see me. Accordingly, when we
had done dinner, for we were at table at the time, I told Khiva to
bring him in. Presently a tall, handsome-looking man, somewhere about
thirty years of age, and very light-coloured for a Zulu, entered, and
lifting his knob-stick by way of salute, squatted himself down in the
corner on his haunches, and sat silent. I did not take any notice of
him for a while, for it is a great mistake to do so. If you rush into
conversation at once, a Zulu is apt to think you a person of little
dignity or consequence. I observed, however, that he was a "Keshla" or
ringed man; that is, he wore on his head the black ring, made of a
species of gum polished with fat and worked up in the hair, which is
usually assumed by Zulus on attaining a certain age or dignity. Also it
struck me that his face was familiar to me.

"Well," I said at last, "What is your name?"

"Umbopa," answered the man in a slow, deep voice.

"I have seen your face before."

"Yes; the Inkoosi, the chief, my father, saw my face at the place of
the Little Hand"--that is, Isandhlwana--"on the day before the battle."

Then I remembered. I was one of Lord Chelmsford's guides in that
unlucky Zulu War, and had the good fortune to leave the camp in charge
of some wagons on the day before the battle. While I was waiting for
the cattle to be inspanned I fell into conversation with this man, who
held some small command among the native auxiliaries, and he had
expressed to me his doubts as to the safety of the camp. At the time I
told him to hold his tongue, and leave such matters to wiser heads; but
afterwards I thought of his words.

"I remember," I said; "what is it you want?"

"It is this, 'Macumazahn.'" That is my Kafir name, and means the man
who gets up in the middle of the night, or, in vulgar English, he who
keeps his eyes open. "I hear that you go on a great expedition far into
the North with the white chiefs from over the water. Is it a true word?"

"It is."

"I hear that you go even to the Lukanga River, a moon's journey beyond
the Manica country. Is this so also, 'Macumazahn?'"

"Why do you ask whither we go? What is it to you?" I answered
suspiciously, for the objects of our journey had been kept a dead
secret.

"It is this, O white men, that if indeed you travel so far I would
travel with you."

There was a certain assumption of dignity in the man's mode of speech,
and especially in his use of the words "O white men," instead of "O
Inkosis," or chiefs, which struck me.

"You forget yourself a little," I said. "Your words run out unawares.
That is not the way to speak. What is your name, and where is your
kraal? Tell us, that we may know with whom we have to deal."

"My name is Umbopa. I am of the Zulu people, yet not of them. The house
of my tribe is in the far North; it was left behind when the Zulus came
down here a 'thousand years ago,' long before Chaka reigned in
Zululand. I have no kraal. I have wandered for many years. I came from
the North as a child to Zululand. I was Cetewayo's man in the
Nkomabakosi Regiment, serving there under the great Captain,
Umslopogaasi of the Axe,[1] who taught my hands to fight. Afterwards I
ran away from Zululand and came to Natal because I wanted to see the
white man's ways. Next I fought against Cetewayo in the war. Since then
I have been working in Natal. Now I am tired, and would go North again.
Here is not my place. I want no money, but I am a brave man, and am
worth my place and meat. I have spoken."

I was rather puzzled by this man and his way of speech. It was evident
to me from his manner that in the main he was telling the truth, but
somehow he seemed different from the ordinary run of Zulus, and I
rather mistrusted his offer to come without pay. Being in a difficulty,
I translated his words to Sir Henry and Good, and asked them their
opinion.

Sir Henry told me to ask him to stand up. Umbopa did so, at the same
time slipping off the long military great coat which he wore, and
revealing himself naked except for the moocha round his centre and a
necklace of lions' claws. Certainly he was a magnificent-looking man; I
never saw a finer native. Standing about six foot three high he was
broad in proportion, and very shapely. In that light, too, his skin
looked scarcely more than dark, except here and there where deep black
scars marked old assegai wounds. Sir Henry walked up to him and looked
into his proud, handsome face.

"They make a good pair, don't they?" said Good; "one as big as the
other."

"I like your looks, Mr. Umbopa, and I will take you as my servant,"
said Sir Henry in English.

Umbopa evidently understood him, for he answered in Zulu, "It is well";
and then added, with a glance at the white man's great stature and
breadth, "We are men, thou and I."


[1] For the history of Umslopogaasi and his Axe, the reader is referred
to the books called "Allan Quatermain" and "Nada the Lily."--Editor.



Chapter 3
The Dunkeld arrives in the port of Durban, but so late in the day that the passengers remain on board for the night. Allan Quatermain gives Sir Henry his terms: all expenses are to be paid by Sir Henry, any ivory obtained along the way is to be divided equally between Quatermain and Good, Sir Henry is to pay Quatermain 500 English pounds as a retainer for his service throughout expedition, and Sir Henry is to approve a deed guaranteeing 200 pounds annually for five years to Quatermain's son Harry should misfortune befall Quatermain in the expedition. Sir Henry readily agrees to these terms. Quatermain then explains his reasoning for these specific terms of hire. He has not been able to make provision for his son's time at medical school to guarantee the boy will be able to complete his studies and acquire a livelihood. Furthermore, Quatermain believes he is living on borrowed time, as he has outlived most elephant hunters five times over, so he knows his time of death draws near. Finally, he believes the expedition to the Suliman Mountains will end in disaster, as the previous three known explorers died without having found their goal. Sir Henry is not daunted by Quatermain's fatalism, so driven is he to find his brother. Upon disembarking to Durban, the three men immediately take care of the deed required for Quatermain's service. Once that is legally approved, Quatermain sets about outfitting the expedition. He buys a sturdy wagon and a team of oxen, and then supplies it from Sir Henry's cache of weapons and local goods. Quatermain readily finds a Zulu driver, Goza, and a Zulu leader, Tom. In search of three servants, Quatermain at first only finds two likely candidates: Ventvogel, a Hottentot tracker, and Khiva, a Zulu who speaks English. Quatermain decides to leave the third servant position to be filled as they begin their journey. However, the evening before they set out, the mysterious Umbopa comes to Quatermain and requests to enter his service on the expedition. Quatermain recalls that he made Umbopa's acquaintance briefly during the Zulu Wars. Umbopa has spoken out that his side of the conflict was ill-fated that day, just prior to their defeat. Umbopa explains that he is a man without a kraal who wishes to use his skills in this endeavor. Quatermain believes Umbopa to be an honorable man who is not telling the whole truth. Sir Henry, however, wholeheartedly approves of Umbopa when he sees how tall and strong he is. Umbopa notes, as he stands beside the equally powerfully-built Sir Henry, "We are men, you and I."
Haggard continues evoking the concept of a reluctant hero in Quatermain's grudging acceptance of Sir Henry's offer.  He cites his own impecunious circumstances and his son's upcoming financial needs as his rationale for accepting the quest.  Haggard draws a parallel to Odysseus' own reluctant acceptance of the mission to sack Troy, wherein the Ithacan king was forced to give up his deception of madness in order to spare his baby son's life. In the person of Umbopa, Haggard introduces the lost-son motif common to many adventure tales and heroic quests.  Umbopa is taken to be a Zulu by Quatermain, but he is "very light-coloured for a Zulu" .  Quatermain takes notice that Umbopa is a "ringed man," meaning that he wears a black ring worked into his hair "usually assumed by Zulus on attaining a certain age or dignity" .  Umbopa's air of equality with Sir Henry annoys Quatermain, but hints to the reader that Umbopa may be more than a mere Zulu guide and hunter looking for work. Quatermain's frustration at Umbopa's attitude belies a deeper conviction of the ignorance, and therefore inferiority, of the African peoples to Europeans.  This sense of European, white superiority arises throughout King Solomon's Mines, and is not limited merely to a comparison between Europe and Africa.  Earlier in the chapter, noting the abuse the luggage is taking at the hands of Kafir porters, Quatermain tells the Kafirs that the champagne they have just drunk--after having broken it in their negligent handling--is "the white man's strongest medicine, and that they were as good as dead men" .  Inexperienced with the bubbling of champagne, the Kafirs believe him. Haggard's personal views on racial relations are harder to pin down from this novel, for Quatermain is already established as an unreliable narrator.  The future fate of Umbopa, too, indicates a higher respect for the African people than is present in many of Haggard's contemporaries.  Ultimately, the reader sees that Quatermain reflects a somewhat liberal view common to the white men of nineteenth-century England.  This mixture of respect and patronizing will be seen in later chapters.