Folly - folly, madness, and despair!
"I had no exhilaration in my quest. I do not think I had even much hope, for something had gone numb and cold in me and killed my youth. I told myself that treasure-hunting was an enterprise accursed of God, and that I should most likely die. That Laputa and Henriques would die I was fully certain. The three of us would leave our bones to bleach among the diamonds, and in a little the Prester's collar would glow amid a little heap of human dust. I was quite convinced of all this, and quite apathetic. It really did not matter so long as I came up with Laputa and Henriques, and settled scores with them. That mattered everything in the world, for it was my destiny."
Laputa's lonely, bitter life, not belonging to either world, lived to the fullest in futility. Henrique's pointless, avaricious life wasted. Arcoll's marvellous talents spent brilliantly in absurd, misguided pursuit. And Davie's youth spent and spirit crushed, as he dies several deaths before the age of 20, going from an idealistic, stout-hearted colonialist self-satisfied in his views on right and wrong to a pathetic, spectral, blue-faced "treasure hunter" who knows he's "accursed" and doesn't care anymore if he lives or dies, or what happens to his country.
"'I have laid up for you treasure in heaven,' he said. 'Your earthly treasure is in the boxes, but soon you will be seeking incorruptible jewels in the deep deep water. It is cool and quiet down there, and you forget the hunger and pain.'"
...and the countless African lives arbitrarily tossed about, ranging between the disposable tribesmen scorned and used up and thrown away by anyone and everyone in power, to the absurd existence of the disposable black spies working for Britain. Fittingly for the imperialistically delusional story: the only loyal life given proper homage and burial in the story is Davie's faithful mutt of a dog.
All set to the gradual, and simultaneous, unravelling and disintegration of the enterprise at hand: "rule" and "trading", as the British and Portuguese ravage and plunder the continent for everything it has, while decrying and condemning any additional "illegal" diamond trading carried out by its subjects. Law and order, justice and nobility, loyalty and obeisance to country and God. As everyone who has written about colonialism has noted: how it dehumanises and makes absurd both the oppressed and the oppressor. Ideals shattered, justice outraged, lives slaughtered, and lives wasted. Boys' adventure stories!
"'No one will come after me. My race is doomed, and in a little they will have forgotten my name. I alone could have saved them. Now they go the way of the rest, and the warriors of John become drudges and slaves.'"
. . . Davie recovers; limps back to his own country, cash in hand; reflects, and remarks on the course of history and on how things have turned out in the proper way, with the civilised white world back in control and guiding and educating the savage natives. The 20-year-old narrator - having gone through a million traumatic events and revolutions of ideas, conscience, loyalty, morality, health, and worldview - convinces himself it was all through the grace and guidance of God. Everyone is happy. Queasy, convalescent, prematurely aged and retired, and happy, with a grimy taste in the mouth. Is the book a disgrace to literary history, for telling an imperialist narrative filled with dismissive and divisive descriptions, slurs, and epithets directed toward other races (and other European nations) by its various and sundry characters? No - aside from being extremely well written, paced, and plotted, as is the wont of Buchan - it is fascinating, instructive, and a deadly warning, for precisely all of these reasons.
Bitter, bitter folly!
". . . and in that green haven of flowers and ferns I was struck sharply with a sense of folly. Here were we wretched creatures of men making for each other's throats, and outraging the good earth which God had made so fair a habitation."