Tarzan and the Spanking Safari I

From: [email protected] (Eric Blyton)

Author's Note: This is a request combined with one of my own ideas.

Background: This is inspired by those old Tarzan movies that starred Johnny Weissmuller and Maureen O'Sullivan. First, let me saw that I'm well aware that Edgar Rice Burroughs would never have had his character talk in sentences like "Me Tarzan, You Jane." However, that was how that series of movies was done and that is what sticks in a lot of peoples' minds. I've also thrown in Allan Quartermain; H. Rider Haggard's storybook adventure hero who also made it to the big screen (most recently played by Richard Chamberlain in the two movies King Solomon's Mines & Alan Quartermain and the Lost City of Gold in the 1980's). Master Kent Attwood I made up, but I was picturing a young Christian Bale. I hope everyone enjoys this. You wouldn't believe how hard it was to spell out Tarzan's famous cry. A few other points; other than Nairobi, I paid no attention to the real geography of Africa. I made up rivers, mountains and such as I needed them for the plot. Of course most of the native Africans are stereotypes, but that's how they were portrayed in these sorts of movies.


Allan Quartermain slapped a fly and swore softly to himself. This expedition was going to be quite a bother. How did he get into these things? By now he should have learned how difficult and stupid English aristocrats could be.

When Sir George Attwood had contacted him, Quartermain had only agreed to see the man because he offered to pay well for his services in locating a great treasure. Quartermain knew that most of these stories about treasure were nonsense, but he couldn't resist looking for them. It wasn't the money; Quartermain had more than he ever needed, but it was a way to keep himself busy. He was a widower and left idle for too long, he tended to brood.

Sir George had not impressed Quartermain at all. The man was a portly, arrogant, ignorant ass. Quartermain had heard of the legend of the Waterfall of Diamonds, of course, but it wasn't one he found very believable. But then the overbred Englishman had surprised him by producing a map that he had obtained from a native.

The map wasn't very clear, but something about it struck Quartermain as genuine. Right then he knew that he was going to have to lead this expedition. If there really was a Waterfall of Diamonds, he wanted to be the one to find it. Sir George paid him a substantial retainer and he went about getting a safari team together. He hired a native named Jorro and six pack boys to carry things. He got all the necessary supplies and equipment and reported back to his employer.

Sir George was staying at the best hotel in Nairobi and Quartermain met him in the restaurant. The pale, fat man stood up and waved Quartermain over to his table. Much to his dismay, when he got there Quartermain saw a boy of about twelve sitting at the table. Looking from man to boy, it was clear that they were father and son. The boy, however, was much better looking. First of all, he was thin, not fat. The pale skin on him made him look cute rather than the unhealthy look if gave his father. And while his father's eyes looked dead and calculating, the boy's eyes, while the same pale shade of blue, seemed alight with mischief. Quartermain knew he was going to be a nuisance.

"This is my son, Kent. Kent, this is Allan Quartermain. He'll be leading the expedition." Sir George said.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Quartermain," Kent said as he stood up and shook the man's hand. Quartermain couldn't fault the boy's manners. Everyone sat back down.

"Are you gentlemen ready to order?" asked an Indian waiter dressed all in white.

"I think Mr. Quartermain needs some time to study the menu," Sir George suggested.

"No, I'm quite ready," Quartermain said, "I'll have my usual, Maj."

Sir George was obviously thrown off by the fact that Quartermain came here often and knew the waiter. He'd figured that Quartermain would only be let into a place like this if someone as upper class as himself invited him in. Now he felt that some of his advantage was gone, and he didn't like it. Hastily, he ordered for Kent and himself and attempted to recover his composure.

Quartermain saw that he's thrown the man off, and decided to press his advantage.

"Sir George, I assume you will be leaving your son in Nairobi?" he said. Both man and boy looked up at this.

"Rubbish!" Sir George said. "He'll be accompanying us, of course."

"No he won't," Quartermain replied, "First of all, you neglected to tell me he'd be along and I did not take him into account when I bought supplies. Second of all, a safari is no place for a child, especially one unused to the land. It's not safe and I can't allow it."

Kent gave his father a stricken look of naked disappointment. The man's face had gotten very red and he was clearly angry.

"Now see here!" he said, "You are in my employ and you will do as I say. I wish my son to come with us, and come he shall!"

"Understand something, Sir George," Quartermain said as he leaned forward and spoke with a very slow voice, "I don't care how much you pay me. I am in charge of any expedition I lead and what I say goes. If you don't like that, we'll conclude our business right now and go our separate ways. But if you choose to go forward you will have to understand that I do not take orders. I give them."

Sir George was livid. Who was this man to talk to him like this? More than anything he wanted to fire him on the spot, but he hesitated. Everyone said that Quartermain was the best. If he wanted to find the Waterfall of Diamonds, he was going to have to deal with the man. But once this was over....

Kent was watching his father. He knew him well enough to see that he wasn't going to fire Mr. Quartermain. That meant he'd get left. The diamonds were far more important to his father than how Kent felt. That meant if he was to come along for the adventure, he was going to have to change Mr. Quartermain's mind himself. Turning on all his charm, he appealed to the man.

"Please let me come, Mr. Quartermain," he begged. "I won't be any problem."

Quartermain saw right through Kent's attempts to play cute, but it had never been his intention to stop the boy from coming. He just wanted to establish the upper hand with the pompous Sir George. But all the same, a safari was no picnic. He'd have to keep the boy under his thumb.

"It's dangerous. I can't have a boy fooling about," he said.

"Oh, please, I won't play the fool. I promise."

"All right, Master Kent. If you want to come, here are the terms. First of all, you are under my authority. If I give you an order, you obey it at once. No complaining to your father. And second, Sir George, you'll have to pay me an extra fee for the risk of having a child along."

Sir George had been using this opportunity to calm down, but Quartermain's request for extra money threatened to send him over the edge again. How dare the man ask for extra money on top of the considerable sum that had already been agreed to! He was about to say that he'd just send the boy home to his mother when Kent cut in.

"I'll do what you say, Mr. Quartermain," he said. "And I'm sure Father will be happy to pay you the extra sum. You will, won't you Father?"

"Mr. Quartermain is being quite well paid, Kent," Sir George said, "I don't plan on giving him any more. If he's unwilling to take you along, you'll just have to stay."

But this was no problem for Kent. He knew how to get things out of his father from years of practice. The fact that they were in a public place only made it easier.

"I don't want to stay!" he whined in a voice that was increasing in volume, "I want to come. You promised me I could!"

"Keep your voice down, Kent," Sir George hissed in a hushed tone.

"I will not!" Kent was almost yelling now and other people were beginning to stare. "I don't get to go just because you're too cheap to pay Mr. Quartermain! I'm going to raise hell!"

"All right, all right, shut up, already!" said an obviously embarrassed Sir George. "You can bloody well come along, then. I hope you get eaten by a lion! Quartermain, how much extra for the boy?"

Quartermain had watched this whole scene with amusement and disgust. This kid was going to be a handful, all right. He couldn't resist doubling the sum he had planed to ask for just to slip the knife into Sir George a bit more. The man paled at the extra amount, but he promptly wrote Quartermain a cheque for the main sum as well as the bonus. Quartermain realized he'd better deposit the cheque before they left or the man was likely to put a stop payment on it.

"Bloody little nuance isn't worth it!" Sir George muttered under his breath. Quartermain could tell that Kent had heard this, but the boy only smiled. He'd gotten what he wanted. Such a spoiled boy was sure to give him headaches, but he'd set him straight. Besides, he'd just been well paid to put up with him.

After lunch, he left to make final arrangements. Quartermain didn't really needed to buy more supplies for the boy, because he always had extra. The expedition left Nairobi in a pair of Land Rovers and headed into the untamed center of the continent. The first problem came when they reached the village of Jubal. Quartermain had made plans to leave the jeeps there and continue on foot, but Sir George protested vigorously.

"You can't expect me to go trudging through the jungle on foot!" he protested. "Why haven't you arranged for horses if we can't take the jeeps?"

"Because," Quartermain explained in an exasperated voice, "There is no road. Surely you didn't expect to be able to ride straight to the Waterfall of Diamonds, did you?"

Sir George muttered under his breath, but he got out of the car. Quartermain was tempted to make the man carry something, but decided that it would be a bad idea. But the boy was a different story.

"Master Kent, that's your pack there," he said pointing to one of the backpacks. Kent just gave him a confused look.

"I suggest you put it on your back," Quartermain said to clarify things.

"I will not!" Kent said, "Let one of the pack boys carry it!"

"The pack boys have more than enough to carry, Kent, but if you want to leave it, fine. I should tell you, though, that your sleeping bag and gear is in it. So if you want to sleep on the ground, go ahead and leave it."

With that, Quartermain turned and left the boy. He talked to one of the village elders about the first mark on the map. It referred to a pass through the Triple Peaks. Quartermain knew where the Triple Peaks were, but had no idea where to find the pass. After a brief discussion in Swahili, the elder nodded his head and told Quartermain what he needed to know to find it. After checking the pack boys and making sure that the Land Rovers were secure, Quartermain started out on the trail. He was amused (but not surprised) to note that Kent had indeed decided to carry his pack. The boy gave him a sulky glare, but Quartermain just outstared him and Kent shifted his eyes to the ground. Whistling a tune, Quartermain led his party on toward the Triple Peaks.


Tarzan, the Lord of the Apes, was swinging through the trees.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhaaahhhhhhhhhhaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!" he belted out as the ground flew by underneath him. He was nearly home and wanted to let Jane know. Coming home was always such a joy. All the trees on his approach had vines just in the right places, so he could cover the distance rapidly. He reached the last one and dropped to the ground. A chimpanzee came out to him, hooting in excitement.

"Cheetah want banana?" Tarzan asked his pet. Of course the chimp held out his hand and Tarzan produced a fruit from a bunch he had tied to his waist and tossed it to him. As Cheetah eagerly peeled the banana, Tarzan climbed up to his house where Jane was waiting. He caught sight of his wife and went over to her.

"Tarzan bring dinner," he said as the handed her a dead animal that he had caught and skinned.

"Thank you Tarzan," she said as she took it to the kitchen, "I'll start cooking it right away."

She produced several spices and soon the meat was cooking.

"Have you seen Boy?" Jane asked. "I told him to stay around the house, but he seems to have wandered off. He's been doing that quite a bit lately and I'm not to happy about. The jungle just isn't safe for a young boy alone."

"Tarzan go find Boy," he said as he reached for one of his vines. "Be back for supper."

He swung away from his house and went looking for his adopted son. Tarzan knew better than anyone how dangerous the jungle could be. When he was boy's age, he had had his ape mother and family to protect him at all times. While all of Tarzan's animal friends knew to look out for Boy, they probably didn't know he was out there.

Luckily, Tarzan's first guess was right. He found Boy playing in the river. As he swung down to the river's edge, Boy looked up in surprise.

"Tarzan! I didn't hear you coming!" he said.

"That's because Boy not listen. Anything could sneak up on Boy while Boy is splashing in water. Lions, tigers, leopards, Boy could get eaten!"

"But I'm not too far from home," Boy protested, "There isn't anything dangerous here."

"Boy not know! Tarzan know. Jane know. Boy must listen to Tarzan and Jane. Boy must do as he is told!"

"I'm sorry, Tarzan," Boy said as he got out of the water.

"Next time, Tarzan punish Boy!" he threatened as his son put his breechcloth back on. "We go now. Jane make supper."

Boy climbed on his back and he swung towards home.


Quartermain and his safari made camp at the foot of the Triple Peaks. It had taken them three days to get there, a bit longer than Quartermain had hoped for, but the overweight Sir George had slowed them down. At least the man was getting some exercise; he surely needed it. Kent, on the other hand, was holding up fine. Quartermain had worried that he might be one of those soft, city boys, but found out that this was not the case. It seemed that young master Kent spent plenty of time crawling about his family's country estate and was more than up to the brisk pace Quartermain had set. In fact, he was holding up a bit too well; when they made camp he always seemed to have plenty of energy left. He got rid of his excess energy by playing pranks on the pack boys. For the most part Quartermain ignored this; the boy had enough sense not to try and pull anything on Quartermain or his hulking tracker, Jorro, and the pack boys seemed to have a good humor about it. But this afternoon he went too far.

Quartermain had pushed everyone a bit to make the foot of the peaks by nightfall and everyone was quite tired when he announced that they would be stopping for camp. Kent disappeared; he'd found that Quartermain was bound to assign him a task if he stayed in view. Setting up camp wasn't his idea of fun. In about half an hour, all the work would be done and he could return and set up his own tent. It sure beat lugging firewood. And speaking of which, he saw one of the pack boys carrying a heavy load of limbs. Kent hid behind a tree and when the native passed, he stuck his foot out. There was no malicious intent in this; he just thought it would be funny to see the wood go flying.

The pack boy tripped over his food and fell to the ground with a thud, the wood scattering in all directions. Kent burst out laughing, but stopped when he heard the man on the ground make an unmistakable cry of pain. In a flash, Quartermain was there with Jorro by his side, both with guns drawn. Quickly sizing up the situation, they holstered their guns. Quartermain grabbed Kent by the arm while Jorro tended to the wounded man.

"What did you think you were doing, you little brat!" Quartermain demanded as he shook the boy.

"Please let go, Mr. Quartermain," Kent begged. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I was just having a little fun."

"Well, your idea of fun caused someone else to be hurt. I've a good mind to thrash you."

"You will do no such thing! Let go of my son at once!"

Quartermain turned around to face Sir George. The man was glaring at him but he kept his tight grip on Kent's arm.

"When I agreed to take this boy along," Quartermain said, "I did so under the condition that he was under my authority. Both of you agreed. If I wanted to thrash him, believe me, I would. However, that's a last resort. I have a more suitable punishment in mind. Since Kent interfered with the gathering of the firewood, he can finish the job himself. From now on, that will be his job when we make camp. Also, tomorrow he will carry an extra load so that the injured pack boy can recover. Perhaps he will have less enthusiasm for pranks after that."

Kent wanted to protest. He looked at his father for help, but the man just huffed and walked away. Quartermain had let go of his arm and the boy rubbed it. The man's grip had been quite painful. At least he had not been thrashed.

"Well, hurry up, boy," Quartermain said. "I want to start the fire. Get to it."

Kent collected the branches the pack boy had dropped and brought them to the campsite. Jorro started the fire while Kent went for more. In all, he had to make five trips before Quartermain was satisfied that there was enough wood to last the night. It was nearly dark when he finished and he still had to pitch his tent. He ate his supper on a log by himself, feeling quite resentful; both towards Quartermain and to his father for not protecting him. He overheard Jorro and Quartermain talking about their plans for tomorrow. Quartermain was relaying to his tracker what the old man back at the village had said about the pass. The black man expressed his confidence that they could find it if it was where the old man said it was. Deciding that he really didn't care if they found the diamonds or not, Kent stalked off to bed.

He woke up the next morning with the sounds of the pack boys breaking camp. Quickly, he pulled down his tent and packed it up. He had forgotten that Quartermain had assigned him an extra load today, but the White Hunter hadn't. Without comment, he deposited the extra bag in front of the boy. Kent tried to put the load on his back, but he had trouble getting it to stay on. Much to his discomfort, the pack boy who he had tripped the night before came over and helped him secure it. Kent wanted to apologize to the man, but they didn't speak the same language.

They set off up the slopes. Sure enough, there was a trail by a small stream that lead between the two largest peaks. Kent found the uphill going very hard, especially with the extra weight, but he had enough sense not to complain. By noon, they had reached a level spot and he could see the pass winding between the two mountains.

The mountains were towering in front of them and seemed to almost merge into one another. The pass was a narrow lane running along the northern mountain with a deep gorge on the other side. There was room for three to walk abreast, but Quartermain had them proceed single file. Jorro took the lead, followed by a couple of pack boys, Kent, Quartermain, Sir George and the rest of the pack boys. The path didn't climb very much and Kent found the going much easier. To easy, in fact; his mind started to wander. Deciding to test the acoustics of the mountain, he let out a loud yell.

"Hello!" he belted out and the echoes came back, "Hello, hello, hello, 'lo, 'lo, 'lo."

The noise had startled the silent party, and all of them stopped to look at Kent.

"Be quiet, Kent," Quartermain said to him. "This mountainside doesn't look very stable. Loud noises are likely to cause an avalanche."

"I was just trying to have a bit of fun!" Kent protested.

"Well, it won't be fun if we all get killed. Don't do it again." And with that the party resumed walking.

Quartermain hadn't been overly stern, but the boy still felt resentful. The man had it in for him. He looked up at the mountain; it looked pretty solid to him. How could a few echoes cause an avalanche anyway? It sounded like foolishness to Kent. He brooded about if for several minutes before he came to a decision. Dropping back so he was behind Quartermain, he turned and yelled again.

"Hello, hello, hello!" he shouted out. The echoes came, but so did an angry rumbling sound from above him.

"Avalanche!" Jorro shouted from the front.

"Everyone run!" Quartermain ordered. The people in front of Kent ran forward. The three pack boys behind him dashed backwards. Kent was frozen in fear.

Quartermain saw what was happening. There was no time to think, he came back, grabbed Kent by the arm and pulled him forward with him. The roar was deafening now, there was only seconds until they were buried under tons of rock. Dragging the dazed boy behind him, he pressed blindly on. Rocks were falling behind them and the air was filled with dust and flying pebbles. Kent tripped and Quartermain threw himself over him, protecting the boy with his own body. The roar reached a crescendo and then started to fade. Ignoring the pebbles that continued to pelt him, Quartermain stood up and looked back at the way they had come. About 100 feet behind them, the road was buried under a mass of rubble. Blinking the dust out of his eyes as he studied the situation, Quartermain realized that there would be no going back this way. Furthermore, the three pack boys on the other side would be unable to reach them. They'd just have to go on with what they had. It should be enough; fortunately one of the missing pack boys was the one who the boy had tripped the night before and he wasn't carrying much.

Quartermain reached down and pulled Kent to his feet. The boy started to speak, but Quartermain angrily put his finger to his lips and pointed up the mountainside. Kent gulped and shut his mouth. Once he verified that the boy wasn't injured, he pulled him forward to link up with the rest of the party. Quartermain found Sir George surprisingly indifferent to the fact that his son was alive, but he couldn't worry about it now. In soft whispers, he discussed the situation with Jorro and they decided to press on. With a sober silence, they walked the rest of the way through the pass.

After another hour, the mountains opened up and they found themselves staring down at a sea of leafy green. Quartermain pointed towards a shimmering body of water off towards the northwest.

"That must be the Mirror Lake," he said to Jorro as he held the map out.

"You know what country that is?" Jorro asked him.

"Yes, but I don't want to talk about it now. You take Sir George and the rest of the pack boys and go make camp down by that stream there. I have something I need to take care off."

Jorro gave Quartermain a slight grin. He could guess what business the man had. Signaling to the men, he set off down the slope. Kent started to follow his father but Quartermain stopped him with his arm.

"No, not you. Not yet. I want to have a little discussion with you."

Kent gulped. He knew full well that the avalanche had been his fault. All during the walk down the pass, he had been wondering what Quartermain was going to say and do to him. Now it seemed he was about to find out and he realized he wasn't very anxious to know. He only hoped that he wouldn't be thrashed.

Quartermain gave the rest of the party sufficient time to be out of earshot and then he turned toward Kent.

"So, why did you yell out the second time?" he calmly asked.

"I didn't think it really would cause an avalanche," Kent muttered to the ground. "I was just trying to have a little fun."

"As I said last night, your idea of "fun" seems to wind up with other people getting hurt. All of us could have been killed back there. When I give you a warning, I expect to be taken seriously. Well, you haven't taken me seriously, but you're going to. You're about to be beaten and then you might think twice before you disregard one of my orders."

Kent sat on the ground, stricken in fright. He put his head in his hands and started to cry.

"Please don't thrash me, Mr. Quartermain," he blubbered. Kent hated to cry, but the tension of surviving the avalanche now combined with the certain knowledge that he was about to be spanked was too much for him.

"You haven't left me any real options, Kent," Quartermain said as he pulled the boy back up and unfastened his packs. "I don't have much room for errors out here in the jungle. I've given you a couple of chances, but you've just blown them."

He half walked, half dragged the reluctant boy over to a large boulder and draped him over it. Kent wrapped his arms around the cold stone and continued to cry softy in dread. He was aware that Quartermain had taken off his belt, but he was unprepared when the first blow came slashing down on the seat of his trousers, WHACK!

He howled and it was immediately followed by a second and a third, WHACK!, WHACK!

Kent's father had not spanked him for years and on those occasions that he had been punished in school, the master had his him on the hand with a stout ruler. This hot stinging on his bottom was not something he was used to. Quartermain's belt landed over and over and his cries were echoing down the mountain. The thick leather went right through his thin safari pants and underpants delivering blazing stripes of pain to his tender bum.

Quartermain gave the boy about 30 blows before he stopped. Kent was laying prone over the rock, his breath coming in shallow gasps, his eyes flowing tears and his nose running. Putting his belt back on, he waited for the boy to come around. After a while, he stood up, rubbing his hot bottom and looking at his feet.

"All right, Kent," Quartermain said in a softer tone, "Let's head down to the others. And please remember the next time I give you an order that you must obey it. I'm just trying to keep us all safe, you know. I'm responsible if someone gets hurt or killed. Do you understand?"

Kent looked up and nodded. Quartermain certainly was responsible for the way his bum hurt right now, he thought.

"One other thing," Quartermain added, "I hope this warning isn't necessary, but if you disobey me again, I'll give it to you twice as hard as I just did."

Kent shuddered. He couldn't imagine it being worse than what he had just experienced. After putting their backpacks on again, Quartermain started down and he followed, keeping one hand on his sore rump.

When they reached the camp, he made a point of ignoring his father. Not only had he not lifted a finger to try and save Kent from Quartermain's wrath, he hadn't even cared that he'd nearly been killed by the avalanche. All he seemed to think about was the wretched diamonds he hoped to find. Kent found himself hoping that there was no such thing as the Waterfall of Diamonds. It would serve his greedy father right.

"What are you waiting for, Kent?" Quartermain said. "It's your job to gather the firewood, so hop to it."

Kent trudged off into the bushes, feeling resentful but also realizing that it was not really justified; at least not where Quartermain was concerned. He did his job and set about pitching his tent. His father was talking to the White Hunter and he listened.

"So what were you and the tracker talking about up there?" Sir George asked Quartermain. "There was something you didn't want to discuss. Well, I want to know what it was."

Quartermain looked at Jorro, but the big black man just shrugged. He sighed and turned back to Sir George.

"That's Wamalama country where we have to go," he told him. "They're an uncivilized warrior tribe. Rumor has it that they practice cannibalism.

"Oh, poppycock!" Sir George said. "Surly you don't believe such rubbish?"

Quartermain raised an eyebrow.

"This isn't the English countryside, you know. Some of these tribes have never even seen a white man. So unless you want to wind up cooking over a slow fire, don't go wandering off when we get near the Mirror Lake."

Sir George sniffed, but he didn't say anymore. Jorro cooked supper and they all ate. After dinner Kent lay face down in his sleeping bag, staring out of his tent flap at the glowing embers in the campfire. His bum was still sore and he wished that he had stayed with his mother in England. This safari was not fun like he had thought it would be. And now cannibals... Shivering to himself, Kent drifted into an uneasy sleep.

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