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diff --git a/old/5777-h.htm.2021-01-27 b/old/5777-h.htm.2021-01-27 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..48e452e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/5777-h.htm.2021-01-27 @@ -0,0 +1,13575 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Life's Handicap, by Rudyard Kipling + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Life's Handicap, by Rudyard Kipling + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Life's Handicap + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5777] +This file was first posted on September 1, 2002 +Last Updated: October 7, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE'S HANDICAP *** + + + + +Text file produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + LIFE’S HANDICAP + </h1> + <h2> + BEING STORIES OF MINE OWN PEOPLE + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Rudyard Kipling + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h4> + 1915 + </h4> + <h3> + TO<br /> E.K.R.<br /> FROM<br /> R.K.<br /> 1887-89<br /> C.M.G. + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE LANG MEN O’ LARUT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> REINGELDER AND THE GERMAN FLAG </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE WANDERING JEW </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THROUGH THE FIRE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE FINANCES OF THE GODS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> THE AMIR’S HOMILY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> JEWS IN SHUSHAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> THE LIMITATIONS OF PAMBE SERANG </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> LITTLE TOBRAH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> BUBBLING WELL ROAD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> ‘THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT’ </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> GEORGIE PORGIE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> NABOTH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> THE DREAM OF DUNCAN PARRENNESS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> THE INCARNATION OF KRISHNA MULVANEY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> ON GREENHOW HILL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> THE MAN WHO WAS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> THE HEAD OF THE DISTRICT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> WITHOUT BENEFIT OF CLERGY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> AT THE END OF THE PASSAGE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> THE MARK OF THE BEAST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> THE RETURN OF IMRAY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> NAMGAY DOOLA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> BURTRAN AND BIMI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> MOTI GUJ—MUTINEER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> L’ENVOI </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + In Northern India stood a monastery called The Chubara of Dhunni Bhagat. + No one remembered who or what Dhunni Bhagat had been. He had lived his + life, made a little money and spent it all, as every good Hindu should do, + on a work of piety—the Chubara. That was full of brick cells, gaily + painted with the figures of Gods and kings and elephants, where worn-out + priests could sit and meditate on the latter end of things; the paths were + brick paved, and the naked feet of thousands had worn them into gutters. + Clumps of mangoes sprouted from between the bricks; great pipal trees + overhung the well-windlass that whined all day; and hosts of parrots tore + through the trees. Crows and squirrels were tame in that place, for they + knew that never a priest would touch them. + </p> + <p> + The wandering mendicants, charm-sellers, and holy vagabonds for a hundred + miles round used to make the Chubara their place of call and rest. + Mahomedan, Sikh, and Hindu mixed equally under the trees. They were old + men, and when man has come to the turnstiles of Night all the creeds in + the world seem to him wonderfully alike and colourless. + </p> + <p> + Gobind the one-eyed told me this. He was a holy man who lived on an island + in the middle of a river and fed the fishes with little bread pellets + twice a day. In flood-time, when swollen corpses stranded themselves at + the foot of the island, Gobind would cause them to be piously burned, for + the sake of the honour of mankind, and having regard to his own account + with God hereafter. But when two-thirds of the island was torn away in a + spate, Gobind came across the river to Dhunni Bhagat’s Chubara, he and his + brass drinking vessel with the well-cord round the neck, his short + arm-rest crutch studded with brass nails, his roll of bedding, his big + pipe, his umbrella, and his tall sugar-loaf hat with the nodding peacock + feathers in it. He wrapped himself up in his patched quilt made of every + colour and material in the world, sat down in a sunny corner of the very + quiet Chubara, and, resting his arm on his short-handled crutch, waited + for death. The people brought him food and little clumps of marigold + flowers, and he gave his blessing in return. He was nearly blind, and his + face was seamed and lined and wrinkled beyond belief, for he had lived in + his time which was before the English came within five hundred miles of + Dhunni Bhagat’s Chubara. + </p> + <p> + When we grew to know each other well, Gobind would tell me tales in a + voice most like the rumbling of heavy guns over a wooden bridge. His tales + were true, but not one in twenty could be printed in an English book, + because the English do not think as natives do. They brood over matters + that a native would dismiss till a fitting occasion; and what they would + not think twice about a native will brood over till a fitting occasion: + then native and English stare at each other hopelessly across great gulfs + of miscomprehension. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what,’ said Gobind one Sunday evening, ‘is your honoured craft, and + by what manner of means earn you your daily bread?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am,’ said I, ‘a kerani—one who writes with a pen upon paper, not + being in the service of the Government.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then what do you write?’ said Gobind. ‘Come nearer, for I cannot see your + countenance, and the light fails.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I write of all matters that lie within my understanding, and of many that + do not. But chiefly I write of Life and Death, and men and women, and Love + and Fate according to the measure of my ability, telling the tale through + the mouths of one, two, or more people. Then by the favour of God the + tales are sold and money accrues to me that I may keep alive.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Even so,’ said Gobind. ‘That is the work of the bazar story-teller; but + he speaks straight to men and women and does not write anything at all. + Only when the tale has aroused expectation, and calamities are about to + befall the virtuous, he stops suddenly and demands payment ere he + continues the narration. Is it so in your craft, my son?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have heard of such things when a tale is of great length, and is sold + as a cucumber, in small pieces.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay, I was once a famed teller of stories when I was begging on the road + between Koshin and Etra; before the last pilgrimage that ever I took to + Orissa. I told many tales and heard many more at the rest-houses in the + evening when we were merry at the end of the march. It is in my heart that + grown men are but as little children in the matter of tales, and the + oldest tale is the most beloved.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With your people that is truth,’ said I. ‘But in regard to our people + they desire new tales, and when all is written they rise up and declare + that the tale were better told in such and such a manner, and doubt either + the truth or the invention thereof.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what folly is theirs!’ said Gobind, throwing out his knotted hand. ‘A + tale that is told is a true tale as long as the telling lasts. And of + their talk upon it—you know how Bilas Khan, that was the prince of + tale-tellers, said to one who mocked him in the great rest-house on the + Jhelum road: “Go on, my brother, and finish that I have begun,” and he who + mocked took up the tale, but having neither voice nor manner for the task + came to a standstill, and the pilgrims at supper made him eat abuse and + stick half that night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay, but with our people, money having passed, it is their right; as we + should turn against a shoeseller in regard to shoes if those wore out. If + ever I make a book you shall see and judge.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And the parrot said to the falling tree, Wait, brother, till I fetch a + prop!’ said Gobind with a grim chuckle. ‘God has given me eighty years, + and it may be some over. I cannot look for more than day granted by day + and as a favour at this tide. Be swift.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In what manner is it best to set about the task.’ said I, ‘O chiefest of + those who string pearls with their tongue?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How do I know? Yet’—he thought for a little—‘how should I not + know? God has made very many heads, but there is only one heart in all the + world among your people or my people. They are children in the matter of + tales.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But none are so terrible as the little ones, if a man misplace a word, or + in a second telling vary events by so much as one small devil.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay, I also have told tales to the little ones, but do thou this—’ + His old eyes fell on the gaudy paintings of the wall, the blue and red + dome, and the flames of the poinsettias beyond. ‘Tell them first of those + things that thou hast seen and they have seen together. Thus their + knowledge will piece out thy imperfections. Tell them of what thou alone + hast seen, then what thou hast heard, and since they be children tell them + of battles and kings, horses, devils, elephants, and angels, but omit not + to tell them of love and suchlike. All the earth is full of tales to him + who listens and does not drive away the poor from his door. The poor are + the best of tale-tellers; for they must lay their ear to the ground every + night.’ + </p> + <p> + After this conversation the idea grew in my head, and Gobind was pressing + in his inquiries as to the health of the book. + </p> + <p> + Later, when we had been parted for months, it happened that I was to go + away and far off, and I came to bid Gobind good-bye. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is farewell between us now, for I go a very long journey,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I also. A longer one than thou. But what of the book?’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘It will be born in due season if it is so ordained.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would I could see it,’ said the old man, huddling beneath his quilt. + ‘But that will not be. I die three days hence, in the night, a little + before the dawn. The term of my years is accomplished.’ + </p> + <p> + In nine cases out of ten a native makes no miscalculation as to the day of + his death. He has the foreknowledge of the beasts in this respect. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then thou wilt depart in peace, and it is good talk, for thou hast said + that life is no delight to thee.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But it is a pity that our book is not born. How shall I know that there + is any record of my name?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because I promise, in the forepart of the book, preceding everything + else, that it shall be written, Gobind, sadhu, of the island in the river + and awaiting God in Dhunni Bhagat’s Chubara, first spoke of the book,’ + said I. + </p> + <p> + ‘And gave counsel—an old man’s counsel. Gobind, son of Gobind of the + Chumi village in the Karaon tehsil, in the district of Mooltan. Will that + be written also?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That will be written also.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And the book will go across the Black Water to the houses of your people, + and all the Sahibs will know of me who am eighty years old?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All who read the book shall know. I cannot promise for the rest.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is good talk. Call aloud to all who are in the monastery, and I will + tell them this thing.’ + </p> + <p> + They trooped up, faquirs, sadhus, sunnyasis, byragis, nihangs, and + mullahs, priests of all faiths and every degree of raggedness, and Gobind, + leaning upon his crutch, spoke so that they were visibly filled with envy, + and a white-haired senior bade Gobind think of his latter end instead of + transitory repute in the mouths of strangers. Then Gobind gave me his + blessing and I came away. + </p> + <p> + These tales have been collected from all places, and all sorts of people, + from priests in the Chubara, from Ala Yar the carver, Jiwun Singh the + carpenter, nameless men on steamers and trains round the world, women + spinning outside their cottages in the twilight, officers and gentlemen + now dead and buried, and a few, but these are the very best, my father + gave me. The greater part of them have been published in magazines and + newspapers, to whose editors I am indebted; but some are new on this side + of the water, and some have not seen the light before. + </p> + <p> + The most remarkable stories are, of course, those which do not appear—for + obvious reasons. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE LANG MEN O’ LARUT + </h2> + <p> + [Footnote: Copyright, 1891, by MACMILLAN & CO.] + </p> + <p> + The Chief Engineer’s sleeping suit was of yellow striped with blue, and + his speech was the speech of Aberdeen. They sluiced the deck under him, + and he hopped on to the ornamental capstan, a black pipe between his + teeth, though the hour was not seven of the morn. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you ever hear o’ the Lang Men o’ Larut?’ he asked when the Man from + Orizava had finished a story of an aboriginal giant discovered in the + wilds of Brazil. There was never story yet passed the lips of teller, but + the Man from Orizava could cap it. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, we never did,’ we responded with one voice. The Man from Orizava + watched the Chief keenly, as a possible rival. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not telling the story for the sake of talking merely,’ said the + Chief, ‘but as a warning against betting, unless you bet on a perrfect + certainty. The Lang Men o’ Larut were just a certainty. I have had talk + wi’ them. Now Larut, you will understand, is a dependency, or it may be an + outlying possession, o’ the island o’ Penang, and there they will get you + tin and manganese, an’ it mayhap mica, and all manner o’ meenerals. Larut + is a great place.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what about the population?’ said the Man from Orizava. + </p> + <p> + ‘The population,’ said the Chief slowly, ‘were few but enorrmous. You must + understand that, exceptin’ the tin-mines, there is no special inducement + to Europeans to reside in Larut. The climate is warm and remarkably like + the climate o’ Calcutta; and in regard to Calcutta, it cannot have escaped + your obsairvation that—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Calcutta isn’t Larut; and we’ve only just come from it,’ protested the + Man from Orizava. ‘There’s a meteorological department in Calcutta, too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay, but there’s no meteorological department in Larut. Each man is a law + to himself. Some drink whisky, and some drink brandipanee, and some drink + cocktails—vara bad for the coats o’ the stomach is a cocktail—and + some drink sangaree, so I have been credibly informed; but one and all + they sweat like the packing of piston-head on a fourrteen-days’ voyage + with the screw racing half her time. But, as I was saying, the population + o’ Larut was five all told of English—that is to say, Scotch—an’ + I’m Scotch, ye know,’ said the Chief. + </p> + <p> + The Man from Orizava lit another cigarette, and waited patiently. It was + hopeless to hurry the Chief Engineer. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not pretending to account for the population o’ Larut being laid + down according to such fabulous dimensions. O’ the five white men engaged + upon the extraction o’ tin ore and mercantile pursuits, there were three + o’ the sons o’ Anak. Wait while I remember. Lammitter was the first by two + inches—a giant in the land, an’ a terreefic man to cross in his + ways. From heel to head he was six feet nine inches, and proportionately + built across and through the thickness of his body. Six good feet nine + inches—an overbearin’ man. Next to him, and I have forgotten his + precise business, was Sandy Vowle. And he was six feet seven, but lean and + lathy, and it was more in the elasteecity of his neck that the height lay + than in any honesty o’ bone and sinew. Five feet and a few odd inches may + have been his real height. The remainder came out when he held up his + head, and six feet seven he was upon the door-sills. I took his measure in + chalk standin’ on a chair. And next to him, but a proportionately made + man, ruddy and of a fair countenance, was Jock Coan—that they called + the Fir Cone. He was but six feet five, and a child beside Lammitter and + Vowle. When the three walked out together, they made a scunner run through + the colony o’ Larut. The Malays ran round them as though they had been the + giant trees in the Yosemite Valley—these three Lang Men o’ Larut. It + was perfectly ridiculous—a lusus naturae—that one little place + should have contained maybe the three tallest ordinar’ men upon the face + o’ the earth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Obsairve now the order o’ things. For it led to the finest big drink in + Larut, and six sore heads the morn that endured for a week. I am against + immoderate liquor, but the event to follow was a justification. You must + understand that many coasting steamers call at Larut wi’ strangers o’ the + mercantile profession. In the spring time, when the young cocoanuts were + ripening, and the trees o’ the forests were putting forth their leaves, + there came an American man to Larut, and he was six foot three, or it may + have been four, in his stockings. He came on business from Sacramento, but + he stayed for pleasure wi’ the Lang Men o’ Larut. Less than, a half o’ the + population were ordinar’ in their girth and stature, ye will understand—Howson + and Nailor, merchants, five feet nine or thereabouts. He had business with + those two, and he stood above them from the six feet threedom o’ his + height till they went to drink. In the course o’ conversation he said, as + tall men will, things about his height, and the trouble of it to him. That + was his pride o’ the flesh. + </p> + <p> + ‘“As the longest man in the island—” he said, but there they took + him up and asked if he were sure. + </p> + <p> + ‘“I say I am the longest man in the island,” he said, “and on that I’ll + bet my substance.” + </p> + <p> + ‘They laid down the bed-plates of a big drink then and there, and put it + aside while they called Jock Coan from his house, near by among the + fireflies’ winking. + </p> + <p> + ‘“How’s a’ wi’ you?” said Jock, and came in by the side o’ the Sacramento + profligate, two inches, or it may have been one, taller than he. + </p> + <p> + ‘“You’re long,” said the man, opening his eyes. “But I am longer.” An’ + they sent a whistle through the night an’ howkit out Sandy Vowle from his + bit bungalow, and he came in an’ stood by the side o’ Jock, an’ the pair + just fillit the room to the ceiling-cloth. + </p> + <p> + ‘The Sacramento man was a euchre-player and a most profane sweerer. “You + hold both Bowers,” he said, “but the Joker is with me.” + </p> + <p> + ‘“Fair an’ softly,” says Nailor. “Jock, whaur’s Lang Lammitter?” + </p> + <p> + ‘“Here,” says that man, putting his leg through the window and coming in + like an anaconda o’ the desert furlong by furlong, one foot in Penang and + one in Batavia, and a hand in North Borneo it may be. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Are you suited?” said Nailor, when the hinder end o’ Lang Lammitter was + slidden through the sill an’ the head of Lammitter was lost in the smoke + away above. + </p> + <p> + ‘The American man took out his card and put it on the table. “Esdras B. + Longer is my name, America is my nation, ‘Frisco is my resting-place, but + this here beats Creation,” said he. “Boys, giants—side-show giants—I + minded to slide out of my bet if I had been overtopped, on the strength of + the riddle on this paste-board. I would have done it if you had topped me + even by three inches, but when it comes to feet—yards—miles, I + am not the man to shirk the biggest drink that ever made the + travellers’-joy palm blush with virginal indignation, or the orang-outang + and the perambulating dyak howl with envy. Set them up and continue till + the final conclusion.” + </p> + <p> + ‘O mon, I tell you ‘twas an awful sight to see those four giants threshing + about the house and the island, and tearin’ down the pillars thereof an’ + throwing palm-trees broadcast, and currling their long legs round the + hills o’ Larut. An awfu’ sight! I was there. I did not mean to tell you, + but it’s out now. I was not overcome, for I e’en sat me down under the + pieces o’ the table at four the morn an’ meditated upon the strangeness of + things. + </p> + <p> + ‘Losh, yon’s the breakfast-bell!’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + REINGELDER AND THE GERMAN FLAG + </h2> + <p> + [Footnote: Copyright, 1891, by MACMILLAN & CO.] + </p> + <p> + Hans Breitmann paddled across the deck in his pink pyjamas, a cup of tea + in one hand and a cheroot in the other, when the steamer was sweltering + down the coast on her way to Singapur. He drank beer all day and all + night, and played a game called ‘Scairt’ with three compatriots. + </p> + <p> + ‘I haf washed,’ said he in a voice of thunder, ‘but dere is no use washing + on these hell-seas. Look at me—I am still all wet and schweatin’. It + is der tea dot makes me so. Boy, bring me Bilsener on ice.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You will die if you drink beer before breakfast,’ said one man. ‘Beer is + the worst thing in the world for—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ya, I know—der liver. I haf no liver, und I shall not die. At least + I will not die obon dese benny sdeamers dot haf no beer fit to trink. If I + should haf died, I will haf don so a hoondert dimes before now—in + Shermany, in New York, in Japon, in Assam, und all over der inside bans of + South Amerique. Also in Shamaica should I hat died or in Siam, but I am + here; und der are my orchits dot I have drafelled all the vorld round to + find.’ + </p> + <p> + He pointed towards the wheel, where, in two rough wooden boxes, lay a mass + of shrivelled vegetation, supposed by all the ship to represent Assam + orchids of fabulous value. + </p> + <p> + Now, orchids do not grow in the main streets of towns, and Hans Breitmann + had gone far to get his. There was nothing that he had not collected that + year, from king-crabs to white kangaroos. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lisden now,’ said he, after he had been speaking for not much more than + ten minutes without a pause; ‘Lisden und I will dell you a sdory to show + how bad und worse it is to go gollectin’ und belief vot anoder fool haf + said. Dis was in Uraguay which was in Amerique—North or Sout’ you + would not know—und I was hoontin’ orchits und aferydings else dot I + could back in my kanasters—dot is drafelling sbecimen-gaces. Dere + vas den mit me anoder man—Reingelder, dot vas his name—und he + vas hoontin’ also but only coral-snakes—joost Uraguay coral-snakes—aferykind + you could imagine. I dell you a coral-snake is a peauty—all red und + white like coral dot has been gestrung in bands upon der neck of a girl. + Dere is one snake howefer dot we who gollect know ash der Sherman Flag, + pecause id is red und plack und white, joost like a sausage mit druffles. + Reingelder he was naturalist—goot man—goot trinker—better + as me! “By Gott,” said Reingelder, “I will get a Sherman Flag snake or I + will die.” Und we toorned all Uraguay upside-behint all pecause of dot + Sherman Flag. + </p> + <p> + ‘Von day when we was in none knows where—shwingin’ in our hummocks + among der woods, oop comes a natif woman mit a Sherman Flag in a + bickle-bottle—my bickle-bottle—und we both fell from our + hummocks flat ubon our pot—what you call stomach—mit shoy at + dis thing. Now I was gollectin’ orchits also, und I knowed dot der idee of + life to Reingelder vas dis Sherman Flag. Derefore I bicked myselfs oop und + I said, “Reingelder, dot is YOUR find.”—“Heart’s true friend, dou + art a goot man,” said Reingelder, und mit dot he obens der bickle-bottle, + und der natif woman she shqueals: “Herr Gott! It will bite.” I said—pecause + in Uraguay a man must be careful of der insects—“Reingelder, + shpifligate her in der alcohol und den she will be all right.”—“Nein,” + said Reingelder, “I will der shnake alife examine. Dere is no fear. Der + coral-shnakes are mitout shting-apparatus brofided.” Boot I looked at her + het, und she vas der het of a boison-shnake—der true viper cranium, + narrow und contract. “It is not goot,” said I, “she may bite und den—we + are tree hoondert mile from aferywheres. Broduce der alcohol und bickle + him alife.” Reingelder he had him in his hand—grawlin’ und grawlin’ + as slow as a woorm und dwice as guiet. “Nonsense,” says Reingelder. “Yates + haf said dot not von of der coral-shnakes haf der sack of boison.” Yates + vas der crate authorite ubon der reptilia of Sout’ Amerique. He haf + written a book. You do not know, of course, but he vas a crate authorite. + </p> + <p> + ‘I gum my eye upon der Sherman Flag, grawlin’ und grawlin’ in Reingelder’s + fist, und der het vas not der het of innocence. “Mein Gott,” I said. “It + is you dot will get der sack—der sack from dis life here pelow!” + </p> + <p> + ‘“Den you may haf der shnake,” says Reingelder, pattin’ it ubon her het. + “See now, I will show you vat Yates haf written!” + </p> + <p> + ‘Uud mit dot he went indo his dent, unt brung out his big book of Yates; + der Sherman Flag grawlin’ in his fist. “Yates haf said,” said Reingelder, + und he throwed oben der book in der fork of his fist und read der passage, + proofin’ conglusivement dot nefer coral-shnake bite vas boison. Den he + shut der book mit a bang, und dot shqueeze der Sherman Flag, und she nip + once und dwice. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Der liddle fool he haf bit me,” says Reingelder. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dese things was before we know apout der permanganat-potash injection. I + was discomfordable. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Die oop der arm, Reingelder,” said I, “und trink whisky ontil you can no + more trink.” + </p> + <p> + ‘“Trink ten tousand tevils! I will go to dinner,” said Reingelder, und he + put her afay und it vas very red mit emotion. + </p> + <p> + ‘We lifed upon soup, horse-flesh, und beans for dinner, but before we vas + eaten der soup, Reingelder he haf hold of his arm und cry, “It is genumben + to der clavicle. I am a dead man; und Yates he haf lied in brint!” + </p> + <p> + ‘I dell you it vas most sad, for der symbtoms dot came vas all dose of + strychnine. He vas doubled into big knots, und den undoubled, und den + redoubled mooch worse dan pefore, und he frothed. I vas mit him, saying, + “Reingelder, dost dou know me?” but he himself, der inward gonsciousness + part, was peyond knowledge, und so I know he vas not in bain. Den he wrop + himself oop in von dremendous knot und den he died—all alone mit me + in Uraguay. I was sorry, for I lofed Reingelder, und I puried him, und den + I took der coral-shnake—dot Sherman Flag—so bad und + dreacherous und I bickled him alife. + </p> + <p> + ‘So I got him: und so I lost Reingelder.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WANDERING JEW + </h2> + <p> + [Footnote: Copyright, 1891, by Macmillan & Co.] + </p> + <p> + ‘If you go once round the world in an easterly direction, you gain one + day,’ said the men of science to John Hay. In after years John Hay went + east, west, north, and south, transacted business, made love, and begat a + family, as have done many men, and the scientific information above + recorded lay neglected in the deeps of his mind with a thousand other + matters of equal importance. + </p> + <p> + When a rich relative died, he found himself wealthy beyond any reasonable + expectation that he had entertained in his previous career, which had been + a chequered and evil one. Indeed, long before the legacy came to him, + there existed in the brain of John Hay a little cloud-a momentary + obscuration of thought that came and went almost before he could realize + that there was any solution of continuity. So do the bats flit round the + eaves of a house to show that the darkness is falling. He entered upon + great possessions, in money, land, and houses; but behind his delight + stood a ghost that cried out that his enjoyment of these things should not + be of long duration. It was the ghost of the rich relative, who had been + permitted to return to earth to torture his nephew into the grave. + Wherefore, under the spur of this constant reminder, John Hay, always + preserving the air of heavy business-like stolidity that hid the shadow on + his mind, turned investments, houses, and lands into sovereigns—-rich, + round, red, English sovereigns, each one worth twenty shillings. Lands may + become valueless, and houses fly heavenward on the wings of red flame, but + till the Day of Judgment a sovereign will always be a sovereign—that + is to say, a king of pleasures. + </p> + <p> + Possessed of his sovereigns, John Hay would fain have spent them one by + one on such coarse amusements as his soul loved; but he was haunted by the + instant fear of Death; for the ghost of his relative stood in the hall of + his house close to the hat-rack, shouting up the stairway that life was + short, that there was no hope of increase of days, and that the + undertakers were already roughing out his nephew’s coffin. John Hay was + generally alone in the house, and even when he had company, his friends + could not hear the clamorous uncle. The shadow inside his brain grew + larger and blacker. His fear of death was driving John Hay mad. + </p> + <p> + Then, from the deeps of his mind, where he had stowed away all his + discarded information, rose to light the scientific fact of the Easterly + journey. On the next occasion that his uncle shouted up the stairway + urging him to make haste and live, a shriller voice cried, ‘Who goes round + the world once easterly, gains one day.’ + </p> + <p> + His growing diffidence and distrust of mankind made John Hay unwilling to + give this precious message of hope to his friends. They might take it up + and analyse it. He was sure it was true, but it would pain him acutely + were rough hands to examine it too closely. To him alone of all the + toiling generations of mankind had the secret of immortality been + vouchsafed. It would be impious—against all the designs of the + Creator—to set mankind hurrying eastward. Besides, this would crowd + the steamers inconveniently, and John Hay wished of all things to be + alone. If he could get round the world in two months—some one of + whom he had read, he could not remember the name, had covered the passage + in eighty days—he would gain a clear day; and by steadily continuing + to do it for thirty years, would gain one hundred and eighty days, or + nearly the half of a year. It would not be much, but in course of time, as + civilisation advanced, and the Euphrates Valley Railway was opened, he + could improve the pace. + </p> + <p> + Armed with many sovereigns, John Hay, in the thirty-fifth year of his age, + set forth on his travels, two voices bearing him company from Dover as he + sailed to Calais. Fortune favoured him. The Euphrates Valley Railway was + newly opened, and he was the first man who took ticket direct from Calais + to Calcutta—thirteen days in the train. Thirteen days in the train + are not good for the nerves; but he covered the world and returned to + Calais from America in twelve days over the two months, and started afresh + with four and twenty hours of precious time to his credit. Three years + passed, and John Hay religiously went round this earth seeking for more + time wherein to enjoy the remainder of his sovereigns. He became known on + many lines as the man who wanted to go on; when people asked him what he + was and what he did, he answered— + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m the person who intends to live, and I am trying to do it now.’ + </p> + <p> + His days were divided between watching the white wake spinning behind the + stern of the swiftest steamers, or the brown earth flashing past the + windows of the fastest trains; and he noted in a pocket-book every minute + that he had railed or screwed out of remorseless eternity. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is better than praying for long life,’ quoth John Hay as he turned + his face eastward for his twentieth trip. The years had done more for him + than he dared to hope. + </p> + <p> + By the extension of the Brahmaputra Valley line to meet the + newly-developed China Midland, the Calais railway ticket held good via + Karachi and Calcutta to Hongkong. The round trip could be managed in a + fraction over forty-seven days, and, filled with fatal exultation, John + Hay told the secret of his longevity to his only friend, the house-keeper + of his rooms in London. He spoke and passed; but the woman was one of + resource, and immediately took counsel with the lawyers who had first + informed John Hay of his golden legacy. Very many sovereigns still + remained, and another Hay longed to spend them on things more sensible + than railway tickets and steamer accommodation. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The chase was long, for when a man is journeying literally for the dear +life, he does not tarry upon the road. Round the world Hay swept anew, +and overtook the wearied Doctor, who had been sent out to look for him, +in Madras. It was there that he found the reward of his toil and the +assurance of a blessed immortality. In half an hour the Doctor, watching +always the parched lips, the shaking hands, and the eye that turned +eternally to the east, won John Hay to rest in a little house close to +the Madras surf. All that Hay need do was to hang by ropes from the roof +of the room and let the round earth swing free beneath him. This was +better than steamer or train, for he gained a day in a day, and was +thus the equal of the undying sun. The other Hay would pay his expenses +throughout eternity. + + It is true that we cannot yet take tickets from Calais to Hongkong, +though that will come about in fifteen years; but men say that if you +wander along the southern coast of India you shall find in a neatly +whitewashed little bungalow, sitting in a chair swung from the +roof, over a sheet of thin steel which he knows so well destroys the +attraction of the earth, an old and worn man who for ever faces the +rising sun, a stop-watch in his hand, racing against eternity. He cannot +drink, he does not smoke, and his living expenses amount to perhaps +twenty-five rupees a month, but he is John Hay, the Immortal. Without, +he hears the thunder of the wheeling world with which he is careful to +explain he has no connection whatever; but if you say that it is only +the noise of the surf, he will cry bitterly, for the shadow on his brain +is passing away as the brain ceases to work, and he doubts sometimes +whether the doctor spoke the truth. +</pre> + <p> + ‘Why does not the sun always remain over my head?’ asks John Hay. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THROUGH THE FIRE + </h2> + <p> + [Footnote: Copyright, 1891, by MACMILLAN & Co.] + </p> + <p> + The Policeman rode through the Himalayan forest, under the moss-draped + oaks, and his orderly trotted after him. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s an ugly business, Bhere Singh,’ said the Policeman. ‘Where are + they?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a very ugly business,’ said Bhere Singh; ‘and as for THEM, they + are, doubtless, now frying in a hotter fire than was ever made of + spruce-branches.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let us hope not,’ said the Policeman, ‘for, allowing for the difference + between race and race, it’s the story of Francesca da Rimini, Bhere + Singh.’ + </p> + <p> + Bhere Singh knew nothing about Francesca da Rimini, so he held his peace + until they came to the charcoal-burners’ clearing where the dying flames + said ‘whit, whit, whit’ as they fluttered and whispered over the white + ashes. It must have been a great fire when at full height. Men had seen it + at Donga Pa across the valley winking and blazing through the night, and + said that the charcoal-burners of Kodru were getting drunk. But it was + only Suket Singh, Sepoy of the load Punjab Native Infantry, and Athira, a + woman, burning—burning—burning. + </p> + <p> + This was how things befell; and the Policeman’s Diary will bear me out. + </p> + <p> + Athira was the wife of Madu, who was a charcoal-burner, one-eyed and of a + malignant disposition. A week after their marriage, he beat Athira with a + heavy stick. A month later, Suket Singh, Sepoy, came that way to the cool + hills on leave from his regiment, and electrified the villagers of Kodru + with tales of service and glory under the Government, and the honour in + which he, Suket Singh, was held by the Colonel Sahib Bahadur. And + Desdemona listened to Othello as Desdemonas have done all the world over, + and, as she listened, she loved. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve a wife of my own,’ said Suket Singh, ‘though that is no matter when + you come to think of it. I am also due to return to my regiment after a + time, and I cannot be a deserter—I who intend to be Havildar.’ There + is no Himalayan version of ‘I could not love thee, dear, as much, Loved I + not Honour more;’ but Suket Singh came near to making one. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind,’ said Athira, ‘stay with me, and, if Madu tries to beat me, + you beat him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very good,’ said Suket Singh; and he beat Madu severely, to the delight + of all the charcoal-burners of Kodru. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is enough,’ said Suket Singh, as he rolled Madu down the hillside. + ‘Now we shall have peace.’ But Madu crawled up the grass slope again, and + hovered round his hut with angry eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’ll kill me dead,’ said Athira to Suket Singh. ‘You must take me away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’ll be a trouble in the Lines. My wife will pull out my beard; but + never mind,’ said Suket Singh, ‘I will take you.’ + </p> + <p> + There was loud trouble in the Lines, and Suket Singh’s beard was pulled, + and Suket Singh’s wife went to live with her mother and took away the + children. ‘That’s all right,’ said Athira; and Suket Singh said, ‘Yes, + that’s all right.’ + </p> + <p> + So there was only Madu left in the hut that looks across the valley to + Donga Pa; and, since the beginning of time, no one has had any sympathy + for husbands so unfortunate as Madu. + </p> + <p> + He went to Juseen Daze, the wizard-man who keeps the Talking Monkey’s + Head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Get me back my wife,’ said Madu. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t,’ said Juseen Daze, ‘until you have made the Sutlej in the valley + run up the Donga Pa.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No riddles,’ said Madu, and he shook his hatchet above Juseen Daze’s + white head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Give all your money to the headmen of the village,’ said Juseen Daze; + ‘and they will hold a communal Council, and the Council will send a + message that your wife must come back.’ + </p> + <p> + So Madu gave up all his worldly wealth, amounting to twenty-seven rupees, + eight annas, three pice, and a silver chain, to the Council of Kodru. And + it fell as Juseen Daze foretold. + </p> + <p> + They sent Athira’s brother down into Suket Singh’s regiment to call Athira + home. Suket Singh kicked him once round the Lines, and then handed him + over to the Havildar, who beat him with a belt. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come back,’ yelled Athira’s brother. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where to?’ said Athira. + </p> + <p> + ‘To Madu,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never,’ said she. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then Juseen Daze will send a curse, and you will wither away like a + barked tree in the springtime,’ said Athira’s brother. Athira slept over + these things. + </p> + <p> + Next morning she had rheumatism. ‘I am beginning to wither away like a + barked tree in the springtime,’ she said. ‘That is the curse of Juseen + Daze.’ + </p> + <p> + And she really began to wither away because her heart was dried up with + fear, and those who believe in curses die from curses. Suket Singh, too, + was afraid because he loved Athira better than his very life. Two months + passed, and Athira’s brother stood outside the regimental Lines again and + yelped, ‘Aha! You are withering away. Come back.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will come back,’ said Athira. + </p> + <p> + ‘Say rather that WE will come back,’ said Suket Singh. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ai; but when?’ said Athira’s brother. + </p> + <p> + ‘Upon a day very early in the morning,’ said Suket Singh; and he tramped + off to apply to the Colonel Sahib Bahadur for one week’s leave. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am withering away like a barked tree in the spring,’ moaned Athira. + </p> + <p> + ‘You will be better soon,’ said Suket Singh; and he told her what was in + his heart, and the two laughed together softly, for they loved each other. + But Athira grew better from that hour. + </p> + <p> + They went away together, travelling third-class by train as the + regulations provided, and then in a cart to the low hills, and on foot to + the high ones. Athira sniffed the scent of the pines of her own hills, the + wet Himalayan hills. ‘It is good to be alive,’ said Athira. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hah!’ said Suket Singh. ‘Where is the Kodru road and where is the Forest + Ranger’s house?’... + </p> + <p> + ‘It cost forty rupees twelve years ago,’ said the Forest Ranger, handing + the gun. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here are twenty,’ said Suket Singh, ‘and you must give me the best + bullets.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is very good to be alive,’ said Athira wistfully, sniffing the scent + of the pine-mould; and they waited till the night had fallen upon Kodru + and the Donga Pa. Madu had stacked the dry wood for the next day’s + charcoal-burning on the spur above his house. ‘It is courteous in Madu to + save us this trouble,’ said Suket Singh as he stumbled on the pile, which + was twelve foot square and four high. ‘We must wait till the moon rises.’ + </p> + <p> + When the moon rose, Athira knelt upon the pile. ‘If it were only a + Government Snider,’ said Suket Singh ruefully, squinting down the + wire-bound barrel of the Forest Ranger’s gun. + </p> + <p> + ‘Be quick,’ said Athira; and Suket Singh was quick; but Athira was quick + no longer. Then he lit the pile at the four corners and climbed on to it, + re-loading the gun. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The little flames began to peer up between the big logs atop of the +brushwood. ‘The Government should teach us to pull the triggers with +our toes,’ said Suket Singh grimly to the moon. That was the last public +observation of Sepoy Suket Singh. + + Upon a day, early in the morning, Madu came to the pyre and shrieked +very grievously, and ran away to catch the Policeman who was on tour in +the district. +</pre> + <p> + ‘The base-born has ruined four rupees’ worth of charcoal wood,’ Madu + gasped. ‘He has also killed my wife, and he has left a letter which I + cannot read, tied to a pine bough.’ + </p> + <p> + In the stiff, formal hand taught in the regimental school, Sepoy Suket + Singh had written— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let us be burned together, if anything remain over, for we have made the + necessary prayers. We have also cursed Madu, and Malak the brother of + Athira—both evil men. Send my service to the Colonel Sahib Bahadur.’ + </p> + <p> + The Policeman looked long and curiously at the marriage bed of red and + white ashes on which lay, dull black, the barrel of the Ranger’s gun. He + drove his spurred heel absently into a half-charred log, and the + chattering sparks flew upwards. ‘Most extraordinary people,’ said the + Policeman. + </p> + <p> + ‘WHE-W, WHEW, OUIOU,’ said the little flames. + </p> + <p> + The Policeman entered the dry bones of the case, for the Punjab Government + does not approve of romancing, in his Diary. + </p> + <p> + ‘But who will pay me those four rupees?’ said Madu. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FINANCES OF THE GODS + </h2> + <p> + [Footnote: Copyright, 1891, by MACMILLAN & Co.] + </p> + <p> + The evening meal was ended in Dhunni Bhagat’s Chubara and the old priests + were smoking or counting their beads. A little naked child pattered in, + with its mouth wide open, a handful of marigold flowers in one hand, and a + lump of conserved tobacco in the other. It tried to kneel and make + obeisance to Gobind, but it was so fat that it fell forward on its shaven + head, and rolled on its side, kicking and gasping, while the marigolds + tumbled one way and the tobacco the other. Gobind laughed, set it up + again, and blessed the marigold flowers as he received the tobacco. + </p> + <p> + ‘From my father,’ said the child. ‘He has the fever, and cannot come. Wilt + thou pray for him, father?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely, littlest; but the smoke is on the ground, and the night-chill is + in the airs, and it is not good to go abroad naked in the autumn.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no clothes,’ said the child, ‘and all to-day I have been carrying + cow-dung cakes to the bazar. It was very hot, and I am very tired.’ It + shivered a little, for the twilight was cool. + </p> + <p> + Gobind lifted an arm under his vast tattered quilt of many colours, and + made an inviting little nest by his side. The child crept in, and Gobind + filled his brass-studded leather waterpipe with the new tobacco. When I + came to the Chubara the shaven head with the tuft atop, and the beady + black eyes looked out of the folds of the quilt as a squirrel looks out + from his nest, and Gobind was smiling while the child played with his + beard. + </p> + <p> + I would have said something friendly, but remembered in time that if the + child fell ill afterwards I should be credited with the Evil Eye, and that + is a horrible possession. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sit thou still, Thumbling,’ I said as it made to get up and run away. + ‘Where is thy slate, and why has the teacher let such an evil character + loose on the streets when there are no police to protect us weaklings? In + which ward dost thou try to break thy neck with flying kites from the + house-tops?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay, Sahib, nay,’ said the child, burrowing its face into Gobind’s beard, + and twisting uneasily. ‘There was a holiday to-day among the schools, and + I do not always fly kites. I play ker-li-kit like the rest.’ + </p> + <p> + Cricket is the national game among the schoolboys of the Punjab, from the + naked hedge-school children, who use an old kerosene-tin for wicket, to + the B.A.‘s of the University, who compete for the Championship belt. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thou play kerlikit! Thou art half the height of the bat!’ I said. + </p> + <p> + The child nodded resolutely. ‘Yea, I DO play. PERLAYBALL OW-AT! RAN, RAN, + RAN! I know it all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But thou must not forget with all this to pray to the Gods according to + custom,’ said Gobind, who did not altogether approve of cricket and + western innovations. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not forget,’ said the child in a hushed voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Also to give reverence to thy teacher, and’—Gobind’s voice softened—’ + to abstain from pulling holy men by the beard, little badling. Eh, eh, + eh?’ + </p> + <p> + The child’s face was altogether hidden in the great white beard, and it + began to whimper till Gobind soothed it as children are soothed all the + world over, with the promise of a story. + </p> + <p> + ‘I did not think to frighten thee, senseless little one. Look up! Am I + angry? Are, are, are! Shall I weep too, and of our tears make a great pond + and drown us both, and then thy father will never get well, lacking thee + to pull his beard? Peace, peace, and I will tell thee of the Gods. Thou + hast heard many tales?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very many, father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, this is a new one which thou hast not heard. Long and long ago when + the Gods walked with men as they do to-day, but that we have not faith to + see, Shiv, the greatest of Gods, and Parbati his wife, were walking in the + garden of a temple.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Which temple? That in the Nandgaon ward?’ said the child. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay, very far away. Maybe at Trimbak or Hurdwar, whither thou must make + pilgrimage when thou art a man. Now, there was sitting in the garden under + the jujube trees, a mendicant that had worshipped Shiv for forty years, + and he lived on the offerings of the pious, and meditated holiness night + and day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh father, was it thou?’ said the child, looking up with large eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay, I have said it was long ago, and, moreover, this mendicant was + married.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did they put him on a horse with flowers on his head, and forbid him to + go to sleep all night long? Thus they did to me when they made my + wedding,’ said the child, who had been married a few months before. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what didst thou do?’ said I. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wept, and they called me evil names, and then I smote HER, and we wept + together.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thus did not the mendicant,’ said Gobind; ‘for he was a holy man, and + very poor. Parbati perceived him sitting naked by the temple steps where + all went up and down, and she said to Shiv, “What shall men think of the + Gods when the Gods thus scorn their worshippers? For forty years yonder + man has prayed to us, and yet there be only a few grains of rice and some + broken cowries before him after all. Men’s hearts will be hardened by this + thing.” And Shiv said, “It shall be looked to,” and so he called to the + temple which was the temple of his son, Ganesh of the elephant head, + saying, “Son, there is a mendicant without who is very poor. What wilt + thou do for him?” Then that great elephant-headed One awoke in the dark + and answered, “In three days, if it be thy will, he shall have one lakh of + rupees.” Then Shiv and Parbati went away. + </p> + <p> + ‘But there was a money-lender in the garden hidden among the marigolds’—the + child looked at the ball of crumpled blossoms in its hands—‘ay, + among the yellow marigolds, and he heard the Gods talking. He was a + covetous man, and of a black heart, and he desired that lakh of rupees for + himself. So he went to the mendicant and said, “O brother, how much do the + pious give thee daily?” The mendicant said, “I cannot tell. Sometimes a + little rice, sometimes a little pulse, and a few cowries and, it has been, + pickled mangoes, and dried fish.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is good,’ said the child, smacking its lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then said the money-lender, “Because I have long watched thee, and + learned to love thee and thy patience, I will give thee now five rupees + for all thy earnings of the three days to come. There is only a bond to + sign on the matter.” But the mendicant said, “Thou art mad. In two months + I do not receive the worth of five rupees,” and he told the thing to his + wife that evening. She, being a woman, said, “When did money-lender ever + make a bad bargain? The wolf runs through the corn for the sake of the fat + deer. Our fate is in the hands of the Gods. Pledge it not even for three + days.” + </p> + <p> + ‘So the mendicant returned to the money-lender, and would not sell. Then + that wicked man sat all day before him offering more and more for those + three days’ earnings. First, ten, fifty, and a hundred rupees; and then, + for he did not know when the Gods would pour down their gifts, rupees by + the thousand, till he had offered half a lakh of rupees. Upon this sum the + mendicant’s wife shifted her counsel, and the mendicant signed the bond, + and the money was paid in silver; great white bullocks bringing it by the + cartload. But saving only all that money, the mendicant received nothing + from the Gods at all, and the heart of the money-lender was uneasy on + account of expectation. Therefore at noon of the third day the + money-lender went into the temple to spy upon the councils of the Gods, + and to learn in what manner that gift might arrive. Even as he was making + his prayers, a crack between the stones of the floor gaped, and, closing, + caught him by the heel. Then he heard the Gods walking in the temple in + the darkness of the columns, and Shiv called to his son Ganesh, saying, + “Son, what hast thou done in regard to the lakh of rupees for the + mendicant?” And Ganesh woke, for the money-lender heard the dry rustle of + his trunk uncoiling, and he answered, “Father, one half of the money has + been paid, and the debtor for the other half I hold here fast by the + heel.”’ + </p> + <p> + The child bubbled with laughter. ‘And the moneylender paid the mendicant?’ + it said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely, for he whom the Gods hold by the heel must pay to the uttermost. + The money was paid at evening, all silver, in great carts, and thus Ganesh + did his work.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nathu! Ohe Nathu!’ + </p> + <p> + A woman was calling in the dusk by the door of the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + The child began to wriggle. ‘That is my mother,’ it said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Go then, littlest,’ answered Gobind; ‘but stay a moment.’ + </p> + <p> + He ripped a generous yard from his patchwork-quilt, put it over the + child’s shoulders, and the child ran away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE AMIR’S HOMILY + </h2> + <p> + [Footnote: Copyright, 1891, by MacMillan & Co.] + </p> + <p> + His Royal Highness Abdur Rahman, Amir of Afghanistan, G.C.S.I., and + trusted ally of Her Imperial Majesty the Queen of England and Empress of + India, is a gentleman for whom all right-thinking people should have a + profound regard. Like most other rulers, he governs not as he would but as + he can, and the mantle of his authority covers the most turbulent race + under the stars. To the Afghan neither life, property, law, nor kingship + are sacred when his own lusts prompt him to rebel. He is a thief by + instinct, a murderer by heredity and training, and frankly and bestially + immoral by all three. None the less he has his own crooked notions of + honour, and his character is fascinating to study. On occasion he will + fight without reason given till he is hacked in pieces; on other occasions + he will refuse to show fight till he is driven into a corner. Herein he is + as unaccountable as the gray wolf, who is his blood-brother. + </p> + <p> + And these men His Highness rules by the only weapon that they understand—the + fear of death, which among some Orientals is the beginning of wisdom. Some + say that the Amir’s authority reaches no farther than a rifle bullet can + range; but as none are quite certain when their king may be in their + midst, and as he alone holds every one of the threads of Government, his + respect is increased among men. Gholam Hyder, the Commander-in-chief of + the Afghan army, is feared reasonably, for he can impale; all Kabul city + fears the Governor of Kabul, who has power of life and death through all + the wards; but the Amir of Afghanistan, though outlying tribes pretend + otherwise when his back is turned, is dreaded beyond chief and governor + together. His word is red law; by the gust of his passion falls the leaf + of man’s life, and his favour is terrible. He has suffered many things, + and been a hunted fugitive before he came to the throne, and he + understands all the classes of his people. By the custom of the East any + man or woman having a complaint to make, or an enemy against whom to be + avenged, has the right of speaking face to face with the king at the daily + public audience. This is personal government, as it was in the days of + Harun al Raschid of blessed memory, whose times exist still and will exist + long after the English have passed away. + </p> + <p> + The privilege of open speech is of course exercised at certain personal + risk. The king may be pleased, and raise the speaker to honour for that + very bluntness of speech which three minutes later brings a too imitative + petitioner to the edge of the ever ready blade. And the people love to + have it so, for it is their right. + </p> + <p> + It happened upon a day in Kabul that the Amir chose to do his day’s work + in the Baber Gardens, which lie a short distance from the city of Kabul. A + light table stood before him, and round the table in the open air were + grouped generals and finance ministers according to their degree. The + Court and the long tail of feudal chiefs—men of blood, fed and cowed + by blood—stood in an irregular semicircle round the table, and the + wind from the Kabul orchards blew among them. All day long sweating + couriers dashed in with letters from the outlying districts with rumours + of rebellion, intrigue, famine, failure of payments, or announcements of + treasure on the road; and all day long the Amir would read the dockets, + and pass such of these as were less private to the officials whom they + directly concerned, or call up a waiting chief for a word of explanation. + It is well to speak clearly to the ruler of Afghanistan. Then the grim + head, under the black astrachan cap with the diamond star in front, would + nod gravely, and that chief would return to his fellows. Once that + afternoon a woman clamoured for divorce against her husband, who was bald, + and the Amir, hearing both sides of the case, bade her pour curds over the + bare scalp, and lick them off, that the hair might grown again, and she be + contented. Here the Court laughed, and the woman withdrew, cursing her + king under her breath. + </p> + <p> + But when twilight was falling, and the order of the Court was a little + relaxed, there came before the king, in custody, a trembling haggard + wretch, sore with much buffeting, but of stout enough build, who had + stolen three rupees—of such small matters does His Highness take + cognisance. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why did you steal?’ said he; and when the king asks questions they do + themselves service who answer directly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was poor, and no one gave. Hungry, and there was no food.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why did you not work?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I could find no work, Protector of the Poor, and I was starving.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You lie. You stole for drink, for lust, for idleness, for anything but + hunger, since any man who will may find work and daily bread.’ + </p> + <p> + The prisoner dropped his eyes. He had attended the Court before, and he + knew the ring of the death-tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘Any man may get work. Who knows this so well as I do? for I too have been + hungered—not like you, bastard scum, but as any honest man may be, + by the turn of Fate and the will of God.’ + </p> + <p> + Growing warm, the Amir turned to his nobles all arow and thrust the hilt + of his sabre aside with his elbow. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have heard this Son of Lies? Hear me tell a true tale. I also was + once starved, and tightened my belt on the sharp belly-pinch. Nor was I + alone, for with me was another, who did not fail me in my evil days, when + I was hunted, before ever I came to this throne. And wandering like a + houseless dog by Kandahar, my money melted, melted, melted till—’ He + flung out a bare palm before the audience. ‘And day upon day, faint and + sick, I went back to that one who waited, and God knows how we lived, till + on a day I took our best lihaf—silk it was, fine work of Iran, such + as no needle now works, warm, and a coverlet for two, and all that we had. + I brought it to a money-lender in a bylane, and I asked for three rupees + upon it. He said to me, who am now the King, “You are a thief. This is + worth three hundred.” “I am no thief,” I answered, “but a prince of good + blood, and I am hungry.”—“Prince of wandering beggars,” said that + money-lender, “I have no money with me, but go to my house with my clerk + and he will give you two rupees eight annas, for that is all I will lend.” + So I went with the clerk to the house, and we talked on the way, and he + gave me the money. We lived on it till it was spent, and we fared hard. + And then that clerk said, being a young man of a good heart, “Surely the + money-lender will lend yet more on that lihaf,” and he offered me two + rupees. These I refused, saying, “Nay; but get me some work.” And he got + me work, and I, even I, Abdur Rahman, Amir of Afghanistan, wrought day by + day as a coolie, bearing burdens, and labouring of my hands, receiving + four annas wage a day for my sweat and backache. But he, this bastard son + of naught, must steal! For a year and four months I worked, and none dare + say that I lie, for I have a witness, even that clerk who is now my + friend.’ + </p> + <p> + Then there rose in his place among the Sirdars and the nobles one clad in + silk, who folded his hands and said, ‘This is the truth of God, for I, + who, by the favour of God and the Amir, am such as you know, was once + clerk to that money-lender.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, and the Amir cried hoarsely to the prisoner, throwing + scorn upon him, till he ended with the dread ‘Dar arid,’ which clinches + justice. + </p> + <p> + So they led the thief away, and the whole of him was seen no more + together; and the Court rustled out of its silence, whispering, ‘Before + God and the Prophet, but this is a man!’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JEWS IN SHUSHAN + </h2> + <p> + [Footnote: Copyright, 1981, by Macmillan & Co.] + </p> + <p> + My newly purchased house furniture was, at the least, insecure; the legs + parted from the chairs, and the tops from the tables, on the slightest + provocation. But such as it was, it was to be paid for, and Ephraim, agent + and collector for the local auctioneer, waited in the verandah with the + receipt. He was announced by the Mahomedan servant as ‘Ephraim, Yahudi’—Ephraim + the Jew. He who believes in the Brotherhood of Man should hear my Elahi + Bukhsh grinding the second word through his white teeth with all the scorn + he dare show before his master. Ephraim was, personally, meek in manner—so + meek indeed that one could not understand how he had fallen into the + profession of bill-collecting. He resembled an over-fed sheep, and his + voice suited his figure. There was a fixed, unvarying mask of childish + wonder upon his face. If you paid him, he was as one marvelling at your + wealth; if you sent him away, he seemed puzzled at your hard-heartedness. + Never was Jew more unlike his dread breed. Ephraim wore list slippers and + coats of duster-cloth, so preposterously patterned that the most brazen of + British subalterns would have shied from them in fear. Very slow and + deliberate was his speech, and carefully guarded to give offence to no + one. After many weeks, Ephraim was induced to speak to me of his friends. + </p> + <p> + ‘There be eight of us in Shushan, and we are waiting till there are ten. + Then we shall apply for a synagogue, and get leave from Calcutta. To-day + we have no synagogue; and I, only I, am Priest and Butcher to our people. + I am of the tribe of Judah—I think, but I am not sure. My father was + of the tribe of Judah, and we wish much to get our synagogue. I shall be a + priest of that synagogue.’ + </p> + <p> + Shushan is a big city in the North of India, counting its dwellers by the + ten thousand; and these eight of the Chosen People were shut up in its + midst, waiting till time or chance sent them their full congregation. + </p> + <p> + Miriam the wife of Ephraim, two little children, an orphan boy of their + people, Epraim’s uncle Jackrael Israel, a white-haired old man, his wife + Hester, a Jew from Cutch, one Hyem Benjamin, and Ephraim, Priest and + Butcher, made up the list of the Jews in Shushan. They lived in one house, + on the outskirts of the great city, amid heaps of saltpetre, rotten + bricks, herds of kine, and a fixed pillar of dust caused by the incessant + passing of the beasts to the river to drink. In the evening the children + of the City came to the waste place to fly their kites, and Ephraim’s sons + held aloof, watching the sport from the roof, but never descending to take + part in them. At the back of the house stood a small brick enclosure, in + which Ephraim prepared the daily meat for his people after the custom of + the Jews. Once the rude door of the square was suddenly smashed open by a + struggle from inside, and showed the meek bill-collector at his work, + nostrils dilated, lips drawn back over his teeth, and his hands upon a + half-maddened sheep. He was attired in strange raiment, having no relation + whatever to duster coats or list slippers, and a knife was in his mouth. + As he struggled with the animal between the walls, the breath came from + him in thick sobs, and the nature of the man seemed changed. When the + ordained slaughter was ended, he saw that the door was open and shut it + hastily, his hand leaving a red mark on the timber, while his children + from the neighbouring house-top looked down awe-stricken and open-eyed. A + glimpse of Ephraim busied in one of his religious capacities was no thing + to be desired twice. + </p> + <p> + Summer came upon Shushan, turning the trodden waste-ground to iron, and + bringing sickness to the city. + </p> + <p> + ‘It will not touch us,’ said Ephraim confidently. ‘Before the winter we + shall have our synagogue. My brother and his wife and children are coming + up from Calcutta, and THEN I shall be the priest of the synagogue.’ + </p> + <p> + Jackrael Israel, the old man, would crawl out in the stifling evenings to + sit on the rubbish-heap and watch the corpses being borne down to the + river. + </p> + <p> + ‘It will not come near us,’ said Jackrael Israel feebly, ‘for we are the + People of God, and my nephew will be priest of our synagogue. Let them + die.’ He crept back to his house again and barred the door to shut himself + off from the world of the Gentile. + </p> + <p> + But Miriam, the wife of Ephraim, looked out of the window at the dead as + the biers passed and said that she was afraid. Ephraim comforted her with + hopes of the synagogue to be, and collected bills as was his custom. + </p> + <p> + In one night, the two children died and were buried early in the morning + by Ephraim. The deaths never appeared in the City returns. ‘The sorrow is + my sorrow,’ said Ephraim; and this to him seemed a sufficient reason for + setting at naught the sanitary regulations of a large, flourishing, and + remarkably well-governed Empire. + </p> + <p> + The orphan boy, dependent on the charity of Ephraim and his wife, could + have felt no gratitude, and must have been a ruffian. He begged for + whatever money his protectors would give him, and with that fled + down-country for his life. A week after the death of her children Miriam + left her bed at night and wandered over the country to find them. She + heard them crying behind every bush, or drowning in every pool of water in + the fields, and she begged the cartmen on the Grand Trunk Road not to + steal her little ones from her. In the morning the sun rose and beat upon + her bare head, and she turned into the cool wet crops to lie down and + never came back; though Hyem Benjamin and Ephraim sought her for two + nights. + </p> + <p> + The look of patient wonder on Ephraim’s face deepened, but he presently + found an explanation. ‘There are so few of us here, and these people are + so many,’ said he, ‘that, it may be, our God has forgotten us.’ + </p> + <p> + In the house on the outskirts of the city old Jackrael Israel and Hester + grumbled that there was no one to wait on them, and that Miriam had been + untrue to her race. Ephraim went out and collected bills, and in the + evenings smoked with Hyem Benjamin till, one dawning, Hyem Benjamin died, + having first paid all his debts to Ephraim. Jackrael Israel and Hester sat + alone in the empty house all day, and, when Ephraim returned, wept the + easy tears of age till they cried themselves asleep. + </p> + <p> + A week later Ephraim, staggering under a huge bundle of clothes and + cooking-pots, led the old man and woman to the railway station, where the + bustle and confusion made them whimper. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are going back to Calcutta,’ said Ephraim, to whose sleeve Hester was + clinging. ‘There are more of us there, and here my house is empty.’ + </p> + <p> + He helped Hester into the carriage and, turning back, said to me, ‘I + should have been priest of the synagogue if there had been ten of us. + Surely we must have been forgotten by our God.’ + </p> + <p> + The remnant of the broken colony passed out of the station on their + journey south; while a subaltern, turning over the books on the bookstall, + was whistling to himself ‘The Ten Little Nigger Boys.’ + </p> + <p> + But the tune sounded as solemn as the Dead March. + </p> + <p> + It was the dirge of the Jews in Shushan. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE LIMITATIONS OF PAMBE SERANG + </h2> + <p> + [Footnote: Copyright, 1891, by MACMILLAN & Co.] + </p> + <p> + If you consider the circumstances of the case, it was the only thing that + he could do. But Pambe Serang has been hanged by the neck till he is dead, + and Nurkeed is dead also. + </p> + <p> + Three years ago, when the Elsass-Lothringen steamer Saarbruck was coaling + at Aden and the weather was very hot indeed, Nurkeed, the big fat Zanzibar + stoker who fed the second right furnace thirty feet down in the hold, got + leave to go ashore. He departed a ‘Seedee boy,’ as they call the stokers; + he returned the full-blooded Sultan of Zanzibar—His Highness Sayyid + Burgash, with a bottle in each hand. Then he sat on the fore-hatch + grating, eating salt fish and onions, and singing the songs of a far + country. The food belonged to Pambe, the Serang or head man of the lascar + sailors. He had just cooked it for himself, turned to borrow some salt, + and when he came back Nurkeed’s dirty black fingers were spading into the + rice. + </p> + <p> + A serang is a person of importance, far above a stoker, though the stoker + draws better pay. He sets the chorus of ‘Hya! Hulla! Hee-ah! Heh!’ when + the captain’s gig is pulled up to the davits; he heaves the lead too; and + sometimes, when all the ship is lazy, he puts on his whitest muslin and a + big red sash, and plays with the passengers’ children on the quarter-deck. + Then the passengers give him money, and he saves it all up for an orgie at + Bombay or Calcutta, or Pulu Penang. ‘Ho! you fat black barrel, you’re + eating my food!’ said Pambe, in the Other Lingua Franca that begins where + the Levant tongue stops, and runs from Port Said eastward till east is + west, and the sealing-brigs of the Kurile Islands gossip with the strayed + Hakodate junks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Son of Eblis, monkey-face, dried shark’s liver, pigman, I am the Sultan + Sayyid Burgash, and the commander of all this ship. Take away your + garbage;’ and Nurkeed thrust the empty pewter rice-plate into Pambe’s + hand. + </p> + <p> + Pambe beat it into a basin over Nurkeed’s woolly head. Nurkeed drew HIS + sheath-knife and stabbed Pambe in the leg. Pambe drew his sheath-knife; + but Nurkeed dropped down into the darkness of the hold and spat through + the grating at Pambe, who was staining the clean fore-deck with his blood. + </p> + <p> + Only the white moon saw these things; for the officers were looking after + the coaling, and the passengers were tossing in their close cabins. ‘All + right,’ said Pambe—and went forward to tie up his leg—‘we will + settle the account later on.’ + </p> + <p> + He was a Malay born in India: married once in Burma, where his wife had a + cigar-shop on the Shwe Dagon road; once in Singapore, to a Chinese girl; + and once in Madras, to a Mahomedan woman who sold fowls. The English + sailor cannot, owing to postal and telegraph facilities, marry as + profusely as he used to do; but native sailors can, being uninfluenced by + the barbarous inventions of the Western savage. Pambe was a good husband + when he happened to remember the existence of a wife; but he was also a + very good Malay; and it is not wise to offend a Malay, because he does not + forget anything. Moreover, in Pambe’s case blood had been drawn and food + spoiled. + </p> + <p> + Next morning Nurkeed rose with a blank mind. He was no longer Sultan of + Zanzibar, but a very hot stoker. So he went on deck and opened his jacket + to the morning breeze, till a sheath-knife came like a flying-fish and + stuck into the woodwork of the cook’s galley half an inch from his right + armpit. He ran down below before his time, trying to remember what he + could have said to the owner of the weapon. At noon, when all the ship’s + lascars were feeding, Nurkeed advanced into their midst, and, being a + placid man with a large regard for his own skin, he opened negotiations, + saying, ‘Men of the ship, last night I was drunk, and this morning I know + that I behaved unseemly to some one or another of you. Who was that man, + that I may meet him face to face and say that I was drunk?’ + </p> + <p> + Pambe measured the distance to Nurkeed’s naked breast. If he sprang at him + he might be tripped up, and a blind blow at the chest sometimes only means + a gash on the breast-bone. Ribs are difficult to thrust between unless the + subject be asleep. So he said nothing; nor did the other lascars. Their + faces immediately dropped all expression, as is the custom of the Oriental + when there is killing on the carpet or any chance of trouble. Nurkeed + looked long at the white eyeballs. He was only an African, and could not + read characters. A big sigh—almost a groan—broke from him, and + he went back to the furnaces. The lascars took up the conversation where + he had interrupted it. They talked of the best methods of cooking rice. + </p> + <p> + Nurkeed suffered considerably from lack of fresh air during the run to + Bombay. He only came on deck to breathe when all the world was about; and + even then a heavy block once dropped from a derrick within a foot of his + head, and an apparently firm-lashed grating on which he set his foot, + began to turn over with the intention of dropping him on the cased cargo + fifteen feet below; and one insupportable night the sheath-knife dropped + from the fo’c’s’le, and this time it drew blood. So Nurkeed made + complaint; and, when the Saarbruck reached Bombay, fled and buried himself + among eight hundred thousand people, and did not sign articles till the + ship had been a month gone from the port. Pambe waited too; but his Bombay + wife grew clamorous, and he was forced to sign in the Spicheren to + Hongkong, because he realised that all play and no work gives Jack a + ragged shirt. In the foggy China seas he thought a great deal of Nurkeed, + and, when Elsass-Lothringen steamers lay in port with the Spicheren, + inquired after him and found he had gone to England via the Cape, on the + Gravelotte. Pambe came to England on the Worth. The Spicheren met her by + the Nore Light. Nurkeed was going out with the Spicheren to the Calicut + coast. + </p> + <p> + ‘Want to find a friend, my trap-mouthed coal-scuttle?’ said a gentleman in + the mercantile service. ‘Nothing easier. Wait at the Nyanza Docks till he + comes. Every one comes to the Nyanza Docks. Wait, you poor heathen.’ The + gentleman spoke truth. There are three great doors in the world where, if + you stand long enough, you shall meet any one you wish. The head of the + Suez Canal is one, but there Death comes also; Charing Cross Station is + the second—for inland work; and the Nyanza Docks is the third. At + each of these places are men and women looking eternally for those who + will surely come. So Pambe waited at the docks. Time was no object to him; + and the wives could wait, as he did from day to day, week to week, and + month to month, by the Blue Diamond funnels, the Red Dot smoke-stacks, the + Yellow Streaks, and the nameless dingy gypsies of the sea that loaded and + unloaded, jostled, whistled, and roared in the everlasting fog. When money + failed, a kind gentleman told Pambe to become a Christian; and Pambe + became one with great speed, getting his religious teachings between ship + and ship’s arrival, and six or seven shillings a week for distributing + tracts to mariners. What the faith was Pambe did not in the least care; + but he knew if he said ‘Native Ki-lis-ti-an, Sar’ to men with long black + coats he might get a few coppers; and the tracts were vendible at a little + public-house that sold shag by the ‘dottel,’ which is even smaller weight + than the ‘half-screw,’ which is less than the half-ounce, and a most + profitable retail trade. + </p> + <p> + But after eight months Pambe fell sick with pneumonia, contracted from + long standing still in slush; and much against his will he was forced to + lie down in his two-and-sixpenny room raging against Fate. + </p> + <p> + The kind gentleman sat by his bedside, and grieved to find that Pambe + talked in strange tongues, instead of listening to good books, and almost + seemed to become a benighted heathen again—till one day he was + roused from semi-stupor by a voice in the street by the dock-head. ‘My + friend—he,’ whispered Pambe. ‘Call now—call Nurkeed. Quick! + God has sent him!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He wanted one of his own race,’ said the kind gentleman; and, going out, + he called ‘Nurkeed!’ at the top of his voice. An excessively coloured man + in a rasping white shirt and brand-new slops, a shining hat, and a + breastpin, turned round. Many voyages had taught Nurkeed how to spend his + money and made him a citizen of the world. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hi! Yes!’ said he, when the situation was explained. ‘Command him—black + nigger—when I was in the Saarbruck. Ole Pambe, good ole Pambe. Dam + lascar. Show him up, Sar;’ and he followed into the room. One glance told + the stoker what the kind gentleman had overlooked. Pambe was desperately + poor. Nurkeed drove his hands deep into his pockets, then advanced with + clenched fists on the sick, shouting, ‘Hya, Pambe. Hya! Hee-ah! Hulla! + Heh! Takilo! Takilo! Make fast aft, Pambe. You know, Pambe. You know me. + Dekho, jee! Look! Dam big fat lazy lascar!’ + </p> + <p> + Pambe beckoned with his left hand. His right was under his pillow. Nurkeed + removed his gorgeous hat and stooped over Pambe till he could catch a + faint whisper. ‘How beautiful!’ said the kind gentleman. ‘How these + Orientals love like children!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Spit him out,’ said Nurkeed, leaning over Pambe yet more closely. + </p> + <p> + ‘Touching the matter of that fish and onions—’ said Pambe—and + sent the knife home under the edge of the rib-bone upwards and forwards. + </p> + <p> + There was a thick sick cough, and the body of the African slid slowly from + the bed, his clutching hands letting fall a shower of silver pieces that + ran across the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now I can die!’ said Pambe. + </p> + <p> + But he did not die. He was nursed back to life with all the skill that + money could buy, for the Law wanted him; and in the end he grew + sufficiently healthy to be hanged in due and proper form. + </p> + <p> + Pambe did not care particularly; but it was a sad blow to the kind + gentleman. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LITTLE TOBRAH + </h2> + <p> + [Footnote: Copyright, 1891, by MACMILLAN & Co.] + </p> + <p> + ‘Prisoner’s head did not reach to the top of the dock,’ as the English + newspapers say. This case, however, was not reported because nobody cared + by so much as a hempen rope for the life or death of Little Tobrah. The + assessors in the red court-house sat upon him all through the long hot + afternoon, and whenever they asked him a question he salaamed and whined. + Their verdict was that the evidence was inconclusive, and the Judge + concurred. It was true that the dead body of Little Tobrah’s sister had + been found at the bottom of the well, and Little Tobrah was the only human + being within a half mile radius at the time; but the child might have + fallen in by accident. Therefore Little Tobrah was acquitted, and told to + go where he pleased. This permission was not so generous as it sounds, for + he had nowhere to go to, nothing in particular to eat, and nothing + whatever to wear. + </p> + <p> + He trotted into the court-compound, and sat upon the well-kerb, wondering + whether an unsuccessful dive into the black water below would end in a + forced voyage across the other Black Water. A groom put down an emptied + nose-bag on the bricks, and Little Tobrah, being hungry, set himself to + scrape out what wet grain the horse had overlooked. + </p> + <p> + ‘O Thief—and but newly set free from the terror of the Law! Come + along!’ said the groom, and Little Tobrah was led by the ear to a large + and fat Englishman, who heard the tale of the theft. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hah!’ said the Englishman three times (only he said a stronger word). + ‘Put him into the net and take him home.’ So Little Tobrah was thrown into + the net of the cart, and, nothing doubting that he should be stuck like a + pig, was driven to the Englishman’s house. ‘Hah!’ said the Englishman as + before. ‘Wet grain, by Jove! Feed the little beggar, some of you, and + we’ll make a riding-boy of him! See? Wet grain, good Lord!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Give an account of yourself,’ said the Head of the Grooms, to Little + Tobrah after the meal had been eaten, and the servants lay at ease in + their quarters behind the house. ‘You are not of the groom caste, unless + it be for the stomach’s sake. How came you into the court, and why? + Answer, little devil’s spawn!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There was not enough to eat,’ said Little Tobrah calmly. ‘This is a good + place.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Talk straight talk,’ said the Head Groom, ‘or I will make you clean out + the stable of that large red stallion who bites like a camel.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We be Telis, oil-pressers,’ said Little Tobrah, scratching his toes in + the dust. ‘We were Telis—my father, my mother, my brother, the elder + by four years, myself, and the sister.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She who was found dead in the well?’ said one who had heard something of + the trial. + </p> + <p> + ‘Even so,’ said Little Tobrah gravely. ‘She who was found dead in the + well. It befel upon a time, which is not in my memory, that the sickness + came to the village where our oil-press stood, and first my sister was + smitten as to her eyes, and went without sight, for it was mata—the + smallpox. Thereafter, my father and my mother died of that same sickness, + so we were alone—my brother who had twelve years, I who had eight, + and the sister who could not see. Yet were there the bullock and the + oil-press remaining, and we made shift to press the oil as before. But + Surjun Dass, the grain-seller, cheated us in his dealings; and it was + always a stubborn bullock to drive. We put marigold flowers for the Gods + upon the neck of the bullock, and upon the great grinding-beam that rose + through the roof; but we gained nothing thereby, and Surjun Dass was a + hard man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bapri-bap,’ muttered the grooms’ wives, ‘to cheat a child so! But WE know + what the bunnia-folk are, sisters.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The press was an old press, and we were not strong men—my brother + and I; nor could we fix the neck of the beam firmly in the shackle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay, indeed,’ said the gorgeously-clad wife of the Head Groom, joining + the circle. ‘That is a strong man’s work. When I was a maid in my father’s + house——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Peace, woman,’ said the Head Groom. ‘Go on, boy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is nothing,’ said Little Tobrah. ‘The big beam tore down the roof upon + a day which is not in my memory, and with the roof fell much of the hinder + wall, and both together upon our bullock, whose back was broken. Thus we + had neither home, nor press, nor bullock—my brother, myself, and the + sister who was blind. We went crying away from that place, hand-in-hand, + across the fields; and our money was seven annas and six pie. There was a + famine in the land. I do not know the name of the land. So, on a night + when we were sleeping, my brother took the five annas that remained to us + and ran away. I do not know whither he went. The curse of my father be + upon him. But I and the sister begged food in the villages, and there was + none to give. Only all men said—“Go to the Englishmen and they will + give.” I did not know what the Englishmen were; but they said that they + were white, living in tents. I went forward; but I cannot say whither I + went, and there was no more food for myself or the sister. And upon a hot + night, she weeping and calling for food, we came to a well, and I bade her + sit upon the kerb, and thrust her in, for, in truth, she could not see; + and it is better to die than to starve.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ai! Ahi!’ wailed the grooms’ wives in chorus; ‘he thrust her in, for it + is better to die than to starve!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would have thrown myself in also, but that she was not dead and called + to me from the bottom of the well, and I was afraid and ran. And one came + out of the crops saying that I had killed her and defiled the well, and + they took me before an Englishman, white and terrible, living in a tent, + and me he sent here. But there were no witnesses, and it is better to die + than to starve. She, furthermore, could not see with her eyes, and was but + a little child.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Was but a little child,’ echoed the Head Groom’s wife. ‘But who art thou, + weak as a fowl and small as a day-old colt, what art THOU?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I who was empty am now full,’ said Little Tobrah, stretching himself upon + the dust. ‘And I would sleep.’ + </p> + <p> + The groom’s wife spread a cloth over him while Little Tobrah slept the + sleep of the just. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BUBBLING WELL ROAD + </h2> + <p> + [Footnote: Copyright, 1891, by MACMILLAN & Co.] + </p> + <p> + Look out on a large scale map the place where the Chenab river falls into + the Indus fifteen miles or so above the hamlet of Chachuran. Five miles + west of Chachuran lies Bubbling Well Road, and the house of the gosain or + priest of Arti-goth. It was the priest who showed me the road, but it is + no thanks to him that I am able to tell this story. + </p> + <p> + Five miles west of Chachuran is a patch of the plumed jungle-grass, that + turns over in silver when the wind blows, from ten to twenty feet high and + from three to four miles square. In the heart of the patch hides the + gosain of Bubbling Well Road. The villagers stone him when he peers into + the daylight, although he is a priest, and he runs back again as a strayed + wolf turns into tall crops. He is a one-eyed man and carries, burnt + between his brows, the impress of two copper coins. Some say that he was + tortured by a native prince in the old days; for he is so old that he must + have been capable of mischief in the days of Runjit Singh. His most + pressing need at present is a halter, and the care of the British + Government. + </p> + <p> + These things happened when the jungle-grass was tall; and the villagers of + Chachuran told me that a sounder of pig had gone into the Arti-goth patch. + To enter jungle-grass is always an unwise proceeding, but I went, partly + because I knew nothing of pig-hunting, and partly because the villagers + said that the big boar of the sounder owned foot long tushes. Therefore I + wished to shoot him, in order to produce the tushes in after years, and + say that I had ridden him down in fair chase. I took a gun and went into + the hot, close patch, believing that it would be an easy thing to unearth + one pig in ten square miles of jungle. Mr. Wardle, the terrier, went with + me because he believed that I was incapable of existing for an hour + without his advice and countenance. He managed to slip in and out between + the grass clumps, but I had to force my way, and in twenty minutes was as + completely lost as though I had been in the heart of Central Africa. I did + not notice this at first till I had grown wearied of stumbling and pushing + through the grass, and Mr. Wardle was beginning to sit down very often and + hang out his tongue very far. There was nothing but grass everywhere, and + it was impossible to see two yards in any direction. The grass-stems held + the heat exactly as boiler-tubes do. + </p> + <p> + In half-an-hour, when I was devoutly wishing that I had left the big boar + alone, I came to a narrow path which seemed to be a compromise between a + native foot-path and a pig-run. It was barely six inches wide, but I could + sidle along it in comfort. The grass was extremely thick here, and where + the path was ill defined it was necessary to crush into the tussocks + either with both hands before the face, or to back into it, leaving both + hands free to manage the rifle. None the less it was a path, and valuable + because it might lead to a place. + </p> + <p> + At the end of nearly fifty yards of fair way, just when I was preparing to + back into an unusually stiff tussock, I missed Mr. Wardle, who for his + girth is an unusually frivolous dog and never keeps to heel. I called him + three times and said aloud, ‘Where has the little beast gone to?’ Then I + stepped backwards several paces, for almost under my feet a deep voice + repeated, ‘Where has the little beast gone?’ To appreciate an unseen voice + thoroughly you should hear it when you are lost in stifling jungle-grass. + I called Mr. Wardle again and the underground echo assisted me. At that I + ceased calling and listened very attentively, because I thought I heard a + man laughing in a peculiarly offensive manner. The heat made me sweat, but + the laughter made me shake. There is no earthly need for laughter in high + grass. It is indecent, as well as impolite. The chuckling stopped, and I + took courage and continued to call till I thought that I had located the + echo somewhere behind and below the tussock into which I was preparing to + back just before I lost Mr. Wardle. I drove my rifle up to the triggers, + between the grass-stems in a downward and forward direction. Then I + waggled it to and fro, but it did not seem to touch ground on the far side + of the tussock as it should have done. Every time that I grunted with the + exertion of driving a heavy rifle through thick grass, the grunt was + faithfully repeated from below, and when I stopped to wipe my face the + sound of low laughter was distinct beyond doubting. + </p> + <p> + I went into the tussock, face first, an inch at a time, my mouth open and + my eyes fine, full, and prominent. When I had overcome the resistance of + the grass I found that I was looking straight across a black gap in the + ground—that I was actually lying on my chest leaning over the mouth + of a well so deep I could scarcely see the water in it. + </p> + <p> + There were things in the water,—black things,—and the water + was as black as pitch with blue scum atop. The laughing sound came from + the noise of a little spring, spouting half-way down one side of the well. + Sometimes as the black things circled round, the trickle from the spring + fell upon their tightly-stretched skins, and then the laughter changed + into a sputter of mirth. One thing turned over on its back, as I watched, + and drifted round and round the circle of the mossy brickwork with a hand + and half an arm held clear of the water in a stiff and horrible flourish, + as though it were a very wearied guide paid to exhibit the beauties of the + place. + </p> + <p> + I did not spend more than half-an-hour in creeping round that well and + finding the path on the other side. The remainder of the journey I + accomplished by feeling every foot of ground in front of me, and crawling + like a snail through every tussock. I carried Mr. Wardle in my arms and he + licked my nose. He was not frightened in the least, nor was I, but we + wished to reach open ground in order to enjoy the view. My knees were + loose, and the apple in my throat refused to slide up and down. The path + on the far side of the well was a very good one, though boxed in on all + sides by grass, and it led me in time to a priest’s hut in the centre of a + little clearing. When that priest saw my very white face coming through + the grass he howled with terror and embraced my boots; but when I reached + the bedstead set outside his door I sat down quickly and Mr. Wardle + mounted guard over me. I was not in a condition to take care of myself. + </p> + <p> + When I awoke I told the priest to lead me into the open, out of the + Arti-goth patch, and to walk slowly in front of me. Mr. Wardle hates + natives, and the priest was more afraid of Mr. Wardle than of me, though + we were both angry. He walked very slowly down a narrow little path from + his hut. That path crossed three paths, such as the one I had come by in + the first instance, and every one of the three headed towards the Bubbling + Well. Once when we stopped to draw breath, I heard the Well laughing to + itself alone in the thick grass, and only my need for his services + prevented my firing both barrels into the priest’s back. + </p> + <p> + When we came to the open the priest crashed back into cover, and I went to + the village of Arti-goth for a drink. It was pleasant to be able to see + the horizon all round, as well as the ground underfoot. + </p> + <p> + The villagers told me that the patch of grass was full of devils and + ghosts, all in the service of the priest, and that men and women and + children had entered it and had never returned. They said the priest used + their livers for purposes of witchcraft. When I asked why they had not + told me of this at the outset, they said that they were afraid they would + lose their reward for bringing news of the pig. + </p> + <p> + Before I left I did my best to set the patch alight, but the grass was too + green. Some fine summer day, however, if the wind is favourable, a file of + old newspapers and a box of matches will make clear the mystery of + Bubbling Well Road. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ‘THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT’ + </h2> + <p> + [Footnote: Copyright, 1891, by MACMILLAN & Co.] + </p> + <p> + The dense wet heat that hung over the face of land, like a blanket, + prevented all hope of sleep in the first instance. The cicalas helped the + heat; and the yelling jackals the cicalas. It was impossible to sit still + in the dark, empty, echoing house and watch the punkah beat the dead air. + So, at ten o’clock of the night, I set my walking-stick on end in the + middle of the garden, and waited to see how it would fall. It pointed + directly down the moonlit road that leads to the City of Dreadful Night. + The sound of its fall disturbed a hare. She limped from her form and ran + across to a disused Mahomedan burial-ground, where the jawless skulls and + rough-butted shank-bones, heartlessly exposed by the July rains, glimmered + like mother o’ pearl on the rain-channelled soil. The heated air and the + heavy earth had driven the very dead upward for coolness’ sake. The hare + limped on; snuffed curiously at a fragment of a smoke-stained lamp-shard, + and died out, in the shadow of a clump of tamarisk trees. + </p> + <p> + The mat-weaver’s hut under the lee of the Hindu temple was full of + sleeping men who lay like sheeted corpses. Overhead blazed the unwinking + eye of the Moon. Darkness gives at least a false impression of coolness. + It was hard not to believe that the flood of light from above was warm. + Not so hot as the Sun, but still sickly warm, and heating the heavy air + beyond what was our due. Straight as a bar of polished steel ran the road + to the City of Dreadful Night; and on either side of the road lay corpses + disposed on beds in fantastic attitudes—one hundred and seventy + bodies of men. Some shrouded all in white with bound-up mouths; some naked + and black as ebony in the strong light; and one—that lay face + upwards with dropped jaw, far away from the others—silvery white and + ashen gray. + </p> + <p> + ‘A leper asleep; and the remainder wearied coolies, servants, small + shopkeepers, and drivers from the hackstand hard by. The scene—a + main approach to Lahore city, and the night a warm one in August.’ This + was all that there was to be seen; but by no means all that one could see. + The witchery of the moonlight was everywhere; and the world was horribly + changed. The long line of the naked dead, flanked by the rigid silver + statue, was not pleasant to look upon. It was made up of men alone. Were + the womenkind, then, forced to sleep in the shelter of the stifling + mud-huts as best they might? The fretful wail of a child from a low + mud-roof answered the question. Where the children are the mothers must be + also to look after them. They need care on these sweltering nights. A + black little bullet-head peeped over the coping, and a thin—a + painfully thin—brown leg was slid over on to the gutter pipe. There + was a sharp clink of glass bracelets; a woman’s arm showed for an instant + above the parapet, twined itself round the lean little neck, and the child + was dragged back, protesting, to the shelter of the bedstead. His thin, + high-pitched shriek died out in the thick air almost as soon as it was + raised; for even the children of the soil found it too hot to weep. + </p> + <p> + More corpses; more stretches of moonlit, white road, a string of sleeping + camels at rest by the wayside; a vision of scudding jackals; ekka-ponies + asleep—the harness still on their backs, and the brass-studded + country carts, winking in the moonlight—and again more corpses. + Wherever a grain cart atilt, a tree trunk, a sawn log, a couple of bamboos + and a few handfuls of thatch cast a shadow, the ground is covered with + them. They lie—some face downwards, arms folded, in the dust; some + with clasped hands flung up above their heads; some curled up dog-wise; + some thrown like limp gunny-bags over the side of the grain carts; and + some bowed with their brows on their knees in the full glare of the Moon. + It would be a comfort if they were only given to snoring; but they are + not, and the likeness to corpses is unbroken in all respects save one. The + lean dogs snuff at them and turn away. Here and there a tiny child lies on + his father’s bedstead, and a protecting arm is thrown round it in every + instance. But, for the most part, the children sleep with their mothers on + the house-tops. Yellow-skinned white-toothed pariahs are not to be trusted + within reach of brown bodies. + </p> + <p> + A stifling hot blast from the mouth of the Delhi Gate nearly ends my + resolution of entering the City of Dreadful Night at this hour. It is a + compound of all evil savours, animal and vegetable, that a walled city can + brew in a day and a night. The temperature within the motionless groves of + plantain and orange-trees outside the city walls seems chilly by + comparison. Heaven help all sick persons and young children within the + city to-night! The high house-walls are still radiating heat savagely, and + from obscure side gullies fetid breezes eddy that ought to poison a + buffalo. But the buffaloes do not heed. A drove of them are parading the + vacant main street; stopping now and then to lay their ponderous muzzles + against the closed shutters of a grain-dealer’s shops and to blow thereon + like grampuses. + </p> + <p> + Then silence follows—the silence that is full of the night noises of + a great city. A stringed instrument of some kind is just, and only just, + audible. High overhead some one throws open a window, and the rattle of + the wood-work echoes down the empty street. On one of the roofs, a hookah + is in full blast; and the men are talking softly as the pipe gutters. A + little farther on, the noise of conversation is more distinct. A slit of + light shows itself between the sliding shutters of a shop. Inside, a + stubble-bearded, weary-eyed trader is balancing his account-books among + the bales of cotton prints that surround him. Three sheeted figures bear + him company, and throw in a remark from time to time. First he makes an + entry, then a remark; then passes the back of his hand across his + streaming forehead. The heat in the built-in street is fearful. Inside the + shops it must be almost unendurable. But the work goes on steadily; entry, + guttural growl, and uplifted hand-stroke succeeding each other with the + precision of clock-work. + </p> + <p> + A policeman—turbanless and fast asleep—lies across the road on + the way to the Mosque of Wazir Khan. A bar of moonlight falls across the + forehead and eyes of the sleeper, but he never stirs. It is close upon + midnight, and the heat seems to be increasing. The open square in front of + the Mosque is crowded with corpses; and a man must pick his way carefully + for fear of treading on them. The moonlight stripes the Mosque’s high + front of coloured enamel work in broad diagonal bands; and each separate + dreaming pigeon in the niches and corners of the masonry throws a squab + little shadow. Sheeted ghosts rise up wearily from their pallets, and flit + into the dark depths of the building. Is it possible to climb to the top + of the great Minars, and thence to look down on the city? At all events + the attempt is worth making, and the chances are that the door of the + staircase will be unlocked. Unlocked it is; but a deeply sleeping janitor + lies across the threshold, face turned to the Moon. A rat dashes out of + his turban at the sound of approaching footsteps. The man grunts, opens + his eyes for a minute, turns round, and goes to sleep again. All the heat + of a decade of fierce Indian summers is stored in the pitch-black, + polished walls of the corkscrew staircase. Half-way up, there is something + alive, warm, and feathery; and it snores. Driven from step to step as it + catches the sound of my advance, it flutters to the top and reveals itself + as a yellow-eyed, angry kite. Dozens of kites are asleep on this and the + other Minars, and on the domes below. There is the shadow of a cool, or at + least a less sultry breeze at this height; and, refreshed thereby, turn to + look on the City of Dreadful Night. + </p> + <p> + Dore might have drawn it! Zola could describe it—this spectacle of + sleeping thousands in the moonlight and in the shadow of the Moon. The + roof-tops are crammed with men, women, and children; and the air is full + of undistinguishable noises. They are restless in the City of Dreadful + Night; and small wonder. The marvel is that they can even breathe. If you + gaze intently at the multitude, you can see that they are almost as uneasy + as a daylight crowd; but the tumult is subdued. Everywhere, in the strong + light, you can watch the sleepers turning to and fro; shifting their beds + and again resettling them. In the pit-like court-yards of the houses there + is the same movement. + </p> + <p> + The pitiless Moon shows it all. Shows, too, the plains outside the city, + and here and there a hand’s-breadth of the Ravee without the walls. Shows + lastly, a splash of glittering silver on a house-top almost directly below + the mosque Minar. Some poor soul has risen to throw a jar of water over + his fevered body; the tinkle of the falling water strikes faintly on the + ear. Two or three other men, in far-off corners of the City of Dreadful + Night, follow his example, and the water flashes like heliographic + signals. A small cloud passes over the face of the Moon, and the city and + its inhabitants—clear drawn in black and white before—fade + into masses of black and deeper black. Still the unrestful noise + continues, the sigh of a great city overwhelmed with the heat, and of a + people seeking in vain for rest. It is only the lower-class women who + sleep on the house-tops. What must the torment be in the latticed zenanas, + where a few lamps are still twinkling? There are footfalls in the court + below. It is the Muezzin—faithful minister; but he ought to have + been here an hour ago to tell the Faithful that prayer is better than + sleep—the sleep that will not come to the city. + </p> + <p> + The Muezzin fumbles for a moment with the door of one of the Minars, + disappears awhile, and a bull-like roar—a magnificent bass thunder—tells + that he has reached the top of the Minar. They must hear the cry to the + banks of the shrunken Ravee itself! Even across the courtyard it is almost + overpowering. The cloud drifts by and shows him outlined in black against + the sky, hands laid upon his ears, and broad chest heaving with the play + of his lungs—‘Allah ho Akbar’; then a pause while another Muezzin + somewhere in the direction of the Golden Temple takes up the call—‘Allah + ho Akbar.’ Again and again; four times in all; and from the bedsteads a + dozen men have risen up already.—‘I bear witness that there is no + God but God.’ What a splendid cry it is, the proclamation of the creed + that brings men out of their beds by scores at midnight! Once again he + thunders through the same phrase, shaking with the vehemence of his own + voice; and then, far and near, the night air rings with ‘Mahomed is the + Prophet of God.’ It is as though he were flinging his defiance to the + far-off horizon, where the summer lightning plays and leaps like a bared + sword. Every Muezzin in the city is in full cry, and some men on the + roof-tops are beginning to kneel. A long pause precedes the last cry, ‘La + ilaha Illallah,’ and the silence closes up on it, as the ram on the head + of a cotton-bale. + </p> + <p> + The Muezzin stumbles down the dark stairway grumbling in his beard. He + passes the arch of the entrance and disappears. Then the stifling silence + settles down over the City of Dreadful Night. The kites on the Minar sleep + again, snoring more loudly, the hot breeze comes up in puffs and lazy + eddies, and the Moon slides down towards the horizon. Seated with both + elbows on the parapet of the tower, one can watch and wonder over that + heat-tortured hive till the dawn. ‘How do they live down there? What do + they think of? When will they awake?’ More tinkling of sluiced water-pots; + faint jarring of wooden bedsteads moved into or out of the shadows; + uncouth music of stringed instruments softened by distance into a + plaintive wail, and one low grumble of far-off thunder. In the courtyard + of the mosque the janitor, who lay across the threshold of the Minar when + I came up, starts wildly in his sleep, throws his hands above his head, + mutters something, and falls back again. Lulled by the snoring of the + kites—they snore like over-gorged humans—I drop off into an + uneasy doze, conscious that three o’clock has struck, and that there is a + slight—a very slight—coolness in the atmosphere. The city is + absolutely quiet now, but for some vagrant dog’s love-song. Nothing save + dead heavy sleep. + </p> + <p> + Several weeks of darkness pass after this. For the Moon has gone out. The + very dogs are still, and I watch for the first light of the dawn before + making my way homeward. Again the noise of shuffling feet. The morning + call is about to begin, and my night watch is over. ‘Allah ho Akbar! Allah + ho Akbar!’ The east grows gray, and presently saffron; the dawn wind comes + up as though the Muezzin had summoned it; and, as one man, the City of + Dreadful Night rises from its bed and turns its face towards the dawning + day. With return of life comes return of sound. First a low whisper, then + a deep bass hum; for it must be remembered that the entire city is on the + house-tops. My eyelids weighed down with the arrears of long deferred + sleep, I escape from the Minar through the courtyard and out into the + square beyond, where the sleepers have risen, stowed away the bedsteads, + and are discussing the morning hookah. The minute’s freshness of the air + has gone, and it is as hot as at first. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will the Sahib, out of his kindness, make room?’ What is it? Something + borne on men’s shoulders comes by in the half-light, and I stand back. A + woman’s corpse going down to the burning-ghat, and a bystander says, ‘She + died at midnight from the heat.’ So the city was of Death as well as Night + after all. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GEORGIE PORGIE + </h2> + <p> + [Footnote: Copyright, 1891, by MACMILLAN & Co.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, + Kissed the girls and made them cry. + When the girls came out to play + Georgie Porgie ran away. +</pre> + <p> + If you will admit that a man has no right to enter his drawing-room early + in the morning, when the housemaid is setting things right and clearing + away the dust, you will concede that civilised people who eat out of china + and own card-cases have no right to apply their standard of right and + wrong to an unsettled land. When the place is made fit for their + reception, by those men who are told off to the work, they can come up, + bringing in their trunks their own society and the Decalogue, and all the + other apparatus. Where the Queen’s Law does not carry, it is irrational to + expect an observance of other and weaker rules. The men who run ahead of + the cars of Decency and Propriety, and make the jungle ways straight, + cannot be judged in the same manner as the stay-at-home folk of the ranks + of the regular Tchin. + </p> + <p> + Not many months ago the Queen’s Law stopped a few miles north of Thayetmyo + on the Irrawaddy. There was no very strong Public Opinion up to that + limit, but it existed to keep men in order. When the Government said that + the Queen’s Law must carry up to Bhamo and the Chinese border the order + was given, and some men whose desire was to be ever a little in advance of + the rush of Respectability flocked forward with the troops. These were the + men who could never pass examinations, and would have been too pronounced + in their ideas for the administration of bureau-worked Provinces. The + Supreme Government stepped in as soon as might be, with codes and + regulations, and all but reduced New Burma to the dead Indian level; but + there was a short time during which strong men were necessary and ploughed + a field for themselves. + </p> + <p> + Among the fore-runners of Civilisation was Georgie Porgie, reckoned by all + who knew him a strong man. He held an appointment in Lower Burma when the + order came to break the Frontier, and his friends called him Georgie + Porgie because of the singularly Burmese-like manner in which he sang a + song whose first line is something like the words ‘Georgie Porgie.’ Most + men who have been in Burma will know the song. It means: ‘Puff, puff, + puff, puff, great steamboat!’ Georgie sang it to his banjo, and his + friends shouted with delight, so that you could hear them far away in the + teak-forest. + </p> + <p> + When he went to Upper Burma he had no special regard for God or Man, but + he knew how to make himself respected, and to carry out the mixed + Military-Civil duties that fell to most men’s share in those months. He + did his office work and entertained, now and again, the detachments of + fever-shaken soldiers who blundered through his part of the world in + search of a flying party of dacoits. Sometimes he turned out and dressed + down dacoits on his own account; for the country was still smouldering and + would blaze when least expected. He enjoyed these charivaris, but the + dacoits were not so amused. All the officials who came in contact with him + departed with the idea that Georgie Porgie was a valuable person, well + able to take care of himself, and, on that belief, he was left to his own + devices. + </p> + <p> + At the end of a few months he wearied of his solitude, and cast about for + company and refinement. The Queen’s Law had hardly begun to be felt in the + country, and Public Opinion, which is more powerful than the Queen’s Law, + had yet to come. Also, there was a custom in the country which allowed a + white man to take to himself a wife of the Daughters of Heth upon due + payment. The marriage was not quite so binding as is the nikkah ceremony + among Mahomedans, but the wife was very pleasant. + </p> + <p> + When all our troops are back from Burma there will be a proverb in their + mouths, ‘As thrifty as a Burmese wife,’ and pretty English ladies will + wonder what in the world it means. + </p> + <p> + The headman of the village next to Georgie Porgie’s post had a fair + daughter who had seen Georgie Porgie and loved him from afar. When news + went abroad that the Englishman with the heavy hand who lived in the + stockade was looking for a housekeeper, the headman came in and explained + that, for five hundred rupees down, he would entrust his daughter to + Georgie Porgie’s keeping, to be maintained in all honour, respect, and + comfort, with pretty dresses, according to the custom of the country. This + thing was done, and Georgie Porgie never repented it. + </p> + <p> + He found his rough-and-tumble house put straight and made comfortable, his + hitherto unchecked expenses cut down by one half, and himself petted and + made much of by his new acquisition, who sat at the head of his table and + sang songs to him and ordered his Madrassee servants about, and was in + every way as sweet and merry and honest and winning a little woman as the + most exacting of bachelors could have desired. No race, men say who know, + produces such good wives and heads of households as the Burmese. When the + next detachment tramped by on the war-path the Subaltern in Command found + at Georgie Porgie’s table a hostess to be deferential to, a woman to be + treated in every way as one occupying an assured position. When he + gathered his men together next dawn and replunged into the jungle he + thought regretfully of the nice little dinner and the pretty face, and + envied Georgie Porgie from the bottom of his heart. Yet HE was engaged to + a girl at Home, and that is how some men are constructed. + </p> + <p> + The Burmese girl’s name was not a pretty one; but as she was promptly + christened Georgina by Georgie Porgie, the blemish did not matter. Georgie + Porgie thought well of the petting and the general comfort, and vowed that + he had never spent five hundred rupees to a better end. + </p> + <p> + After three months of domestic life, a great idea struck him. Matrimony—English + matrimony—could not be such a bad thing after all. If he were so + thoroughly comfortable at the Back of Beyond with this Burmese girl who + smoked cheroots, how much more comfortable would he be with a sweet + English maiden who would not smoke cheroots, and would play upon a piano + instead of a banjo? Also he had a desire to return to his kind, to hear a + Band once more, and to feel how it felt to wear a dress-suit again. + Decidedly, Matrimony would be a very good thing. He thought the matter out + at length of evenings, while Georgina sang to him, or asked him why he was + so silent, and whether she had done anything to offend him. As he thought, + he smoked, and as he smoked he looked at Georgina, and in his fancy turned + her into a fair, thrifty, amusing, merry, little English girl, with hair + coming low down on her forehead, and perhaps a cigarette between her lips. + Certainly, not a big, thick, Burma cheroot, of the brand that Georgina + smoked. He would wed a girl with Georgina’s eyes and most of her ways. But + not all. She could be improved upon. Then he blew thick smoke-wreaths + through his nostrils and stretched himself. He would taste marriage. + Georgina had helped him to save money, and there were six months’ leave + due to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘See here, little woman,’ he said, ‘we must put by more money for these + next three months. I want it.’ That was a direct slur on Georgina’s + housekeeping; for she prided herself on her thrift; but since her God + wanted money she would do her best. + </p> + <p> + ‘You want money?’ she said with a little laugh. ‘I HAVE money. Look!’ She + ran to her own room and fetched out a small bag of rupees. ‘Of all that + you give me, I keep back some. See! One hundred and seven rupees. Can you + want more money than that? Take it. It is my pleasure if you use it.’ She + spread out the money on the table and pushed it towards him, with her + quick, little, pale yellow fingers. + </p> + <p> + Georgie Porgie never referred to economy in the household again. + </p> + <p> + Three months later, after the dispatch and receipt of several mysterious + letters which Georgina could not understand, and hated for that reason, + Georgie Porgie said that he was going away and she must return to her + father’s house and stay there. + </p> + <p> + Georgina wept. She would go with her God from the world’s end to the + world’s end. Why should she leave him? She loved him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am only going to Rangoon,’ said Georgie Porgie. ‘I shall be back in a + month, but it is safer to stay with your father. I will leave you two + hundred rupees.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you go for a month, what need of two hundred? Fifty are more than + enough. There is some evil here. Do not go, or at least let me go with + you.’ + </p> + <p> + Georgie Porgie does not like to remember that scene even at this date. In + the end he got rid of Georgina by a compromise of seventy-five rupees. She + would not take more. Then he went by steamer and rail to Rangoon. + </p> + <p> + The mysterious letters had granted him six months’ leave. The actual + flight and an idea that he might have been treacherous hurt severely at + the time, but as soon as the big steamer was well out into the blue, + things were easier, and Georgina’s face, and the queer little stockaded + house, and the memory of the rushes of shouting dacoits by night, the cry + and struggle of the first man that he had ever killed with his own hand, + and a hundred other more intimate things, faded and faded out of Georgie + Porgie’s heart, and the vision of approaching England took its place. The + steamer was full of men on leave, all rampantly jovial souls who had + shaken off the dust and sweat of Upper Burma and were as merry as + schoolboys. They helped Georgie Porgie to forget. + </p> + <p> + Then came England with its luxuries and decencies and comforts, and + Georgie Porgie walked in a pleasant dream upon pavements of which he had + nearly forgotten the ring, wondering why men in their senses ever left + Town. He accepted his keen delight in his furlough as the reward of his + services. Providence further arranged for him another and greater delight—all + the pleasures of a quiet English wooing, quite different from the brazen + businesses of the East, when half the community stand back and bet on the + result, and the other half wonder what Mrs. So-and-So will say to it. + </p> + <p> + It was a pleasant girl and a perfect summer, and a big country-house near + Petworth where there are acres and acres of purple heather and + high-grassed water-meadows to wander through. Georgie Porgie felt that he + had at last found something worth the living for, and naturally assumed + that the next thing to do was to ask the girl to share his life in India. + She, in her ignorance, was willing to go. On this occasion there was no + bartering with a village headman. There was a fine middle-class wedding in + the country, with a stout Papa and a weeping Mamma, and a best-man in + purple and fine linen, and six snub-nosed girls from the Sunday School to + throw roses on the path between the tombstones up to the Church door. The + local paper described the affair at great length, even down to giving the + hymns in full. But that was because the Direction were starving for want + of material. + </p> + <p> + Then came a honeymoon at Arundel, and the Mamma wept copiously before she + allowed her one daughter to sail away to India under the care of Georgie + Porgie the Bridegroom. Beyond any question, Georgie Porgie was immensely + fond of his wife, and she was devoted to him as the best and greatest man + in the world. When he reported himself at Bombay he felt justified in + demanding a good station for his wife’s sake; and, because he had made a + little mark in Burma and was beginning to be appreciated, they allowed him + nearly all that he asked for, and posted him to a station which we will + call Sutrain. It stood upon several hills, and was styled officially a + ‘Sanitarium,’ for the good reason that the drainage was utterly neglected. + Here Georgie Porgie settled down, and found married life come very + naturally to him. He did not rave, as do many bridegrooms, over the + strangeness and delight of seeing his own true love sitting down to + breakfast with him every morning ‘as though it were the most natural thing + in the world.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He had been there before,’ as the Americans say, and, checking the merits + of his own present Grace by those of Georgina, he was more and more + inclined to think that he had done well. + </p> + <p> + But there was no peace or comfort across the Bay of Bengal, under the + teak-trees where Georgina lived with her father, waiting for Georgie + Porgie to return. The headman was old, and remembered the war of ‘51. He + had been to Rangoon, and knew something of the ways of the Kullahs. + Sitting in front of his door in the evenings, he taught Georgina a dry + philosophy which did not console her in the least. + </p> + <p> + The trouble was that she loved Georgie Porgie just as much as the French + girl in the English History books loved the priest whose head was broken + by the king’s bullies. One day she disappeared from the village with all + the rupees that Georgie Porgie had given her, and a very small smattering + of English—also gained from Georgie Porgie. + </p> + <p> + The headman was angry at first, but lit a fresh cheroot and said something + uncomplimentary about the sex in general. Georgina had started on a search + for Georgie Porgie, who might be in Rangoon, or across the Black Water, or + dead, for aught that she knew. Chance favoured her. An old Sikh policeman + told her that Georgie Porgie had crossed the Black Water. She took a + steerage-passage from Rangoon and went to Calcutta; keeping the secret of + her search to herself. + </p> + <p> + In India every trace of her was lost for six weeks, and no one knows what + trouble of heart she must have undergone. + </p> + <p> + She reappeared, four hundred miles north of Calcutta, steadily heading + northwards, very worn and haggard, but very fixed in her determination to + find Georgie Porgie. She could not understand the language of the people; + but India is infinitely charitable, and the women-folk along the Grand + Trunk gave her food. Something made her believe that Georgie Porgie was to + be found at the end of that pitiless road. She may have seen a sepoy who + knew him in Burma, but of this no one can be certain. At last, she found a + regiment on the line of march, and met there one of the many subalterns + whom Georgie Porgie had invited to dinner in the far-off, old days of the + dacoit-hunting. There was a certain amount of amusement among the tents + when Georgina threw herself at the man’s feet and began to cry. There was + no amusement when her story was told; but a collection was made, and that + was more to the point. One of the subalterns knew of Georgie Porgie’s + whereabouts, but not of his marriage. So he told Georgina and she went her + way joyfully to the north, in a railway carriage where there was rest for + tired feet and shade for a dusty little head. The marches from the train + through the hills into Sutrain were trying, but Georgina had money, and + families journeying in bullock-carts gave her help. It was an almost + miraculous journey, and Georgina felt sure that the good spirits of Burma + were looking after her. The hill-road to Sutrain is a chilly stretch, and + Georgina caught a bad cold. Still there was Georgie Porgie at the end of + all the trouble to take her up in his arms and pet her, as he used to do + in the old days when the stockade was shut for the night and he had + approved of the evening meal. Georgina went forward as fast as she could; + and her good spirits did her one last favour. + </p> + <p> + An Englishman stopped her, in the twilight, just at the turn of the road + into Sutrain, saying, ‘Good Heavens! What are you doing here?’ + </p> + <p> + He was Gillis, the man who had been Georgie Porgie’s assistant in Upper + Burma, and who occupied the next post to Georgie Porgie’s in the jungle. + Georgie Porgie had applied to have him to work with at Sutrain because he + liked him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have come,’ said Georgina simply. ‘It was such a long way, and I have + been months in coming. Where is his house?’ + </p> + <p> + Gillis gasped. He had seen enough of Georgina in the old times to know + that explanations would be useless. You cannot explain things to the + Oriental. You must show. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll take you there,’ said Gillis, and he led Georgina off the road, up + the cliff, by a little pathway, to the back of a house set on a platform + cut into the hillside. + </p> + <p> + The lamps were just lit, but the curtains were not drawn. ‘Now look,’ said + Gillis, stopping in front of the drawing-room window. Georgina looked and + saw Georgie Porgie and the Bride. + </p> + <p> + She put her hand up to her hair, which had come out of its top-knot and + was straggling about her face. She tried to set her ragged dress in order, + but the dress was past pulling straight, and she coughed a queer little + cough, for she really had taken a very bad cold. Gillis looked, too, but + while Georgina only looked at the Bride once, turning her eyes always on + Georgie Porgie, Gillis looked at the Bride all the time. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you going to do?’ said Gillis, who held Georgina by the wrist, + in case of any unexpected rush into the lamplight. ‘Will you go in and + tell that English woman that you lived with her husband?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Georgina faintly. ‘Let me go. I am going away. I swear that I + am going away.’ She twisted herself free and ran off into the dark. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor little beast!’ said Gillis, dropping on to the main road. ‘I’d ha’ + given her something to get back to Burma with. What a narrow shave though! + And that angel would never have forgiven it.’ + </p> + <p> + This seems to prove that the devotion of Gillis was not entirely due to + his affection for Georgie Porgie. + </p> + <p> + The Bride and the Bridegroom came out into the verandah after dinner, in + order that the smoke of Georgie Porgie’s cheroots might not hang in the + new drawing-room curtains. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is that noise down there?’ said the Bride. Both listened. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said Georgie Porgie, ‘I suppose some brute of a hillman has been + beating his wife.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Beating—his—wife! How ghastly!’ said the Bride. ‘Fancy YOUR + beating ME!’ She slipped an arm round her husband’s waist, and, leaning + her head against his shoulder, looked out across the cloud-filled valley + in deep content and security. + </p> + <p> + But it was Georgina crying, all by herself, down the hillside, among the + stones of the water-course where the washermen wash the clothes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NABOTH + </h2> + <p> + [Footnote: Copyright, 1891, by MACMILLAN & Co.] + </p> + <p> + This was how it happened; and the truth is also an allegory of Empire. + </p> + <p> + I met him at the corner of my garden, an empty basket on his head, and an + unclean cloth round his loins. That was all the property to which Naboth + had the shadow of a claim when I first saw him. He opened our acquaintance + by begging. He was very thin and showed nearly as many ribs as his basket; + and he told me a long story about fever and a lawsuit, and an iron + cauldron that had been seized by the court in execution of a decree. I put + my hand into my pocket to help Naboth, as kings of the East have helped + alien adventurers to the loss of their kingdoms. A rupee had hidden in my + waistcoat lining. I never knew it was there, and gave the trove to Naboth + as a direct gift from Heaven. He replied that I was the only legitimate + Protector of the Poor he had ever known. + </p> + <p> + Next morning he reappeared, a little fatter in the round, and curled + himself into knots in the front verandah. He said I was his father and his + mother, and the direct descendant of all the gods in his Pantheon, besides + controlling the destinies of the universe. He himself was but a + sweetmeat-seller, and much less important than the dirt under my feet. I + had heard this sort of thing before, so I asked him what he wanted. My + rupee, quoth Naboth, had raised him to the ever-lasting heavens, and he + wished to prefer a request. He wished to establish a sweetmeat-pitch near + the house of his benefactor, to gaze on my revered countenance as I went + to and fro illumining the world. I was graciously pleased to give + permission, and he went away with his head between his knees. + </p> + <p> + Now at the far end of my garden, the ground slopes toward the public road, + and the slope is crowned with a thick shrubbery. There is a short + carriage-road from the house to the Mall, which passes close to the + shrubbery. Next afternoon I saw that Naboth had seated himself at the + bottom of the slope, down in the dust of the public road, and in the full + glare of the sun, with a starved basket of greasy sweets in front of him. + He had gone into trade once more on the strength of my munificent + donation, and the ground was as Paradise by my honoured favour. Remember, + there was only Naboth, his basket, the sunshine, and the gray dust when + the sap of my Empire first began. + </p> + <p> + Next day he had moved himself up the slope nearer to my shrubbery, and + waved a palm-leaf fan to keep the flies off the sweets. So I judged that + he must have done a fair trade. + </p> + <p> + Four days later I noticed that he had backed himself and his basket under + the shadow of the shrubbery, and had tied an Isabella-coloured rag between + two branches in order to make more shade. There were plenty of sweets in + his basket. I thought that trade must certainly be looking up. + </p> + <p> + Seven weeks later the Government took up a plot of ground for a Chief + Court close to the end of my compound, and employed nearly four hundred + coolies on the foundations. Naboth bought a blue and white striped + blanket, a brass lamp-stand, and a small boy, to cope with the rush of + trade, which was tremendous. + </p> + <p> + Five days later he bought a huge, fat, red-backed account-book, and a + glass inkstand. Thus I saw that the coolies had been getting into his + debt, and that commerce was increasing on legitimate lines of credit. Also + I saw that the one basket had grown into three, and that Naboth had backed + and hacked into the shrubbery, and made himself a nice little clearing for + the proper display of the basket, the blanket, the books, and the boy. + </p> + <p> + One week and five days later he had built a mud fire-place in the + clearing, and the fat account-book was overflowing. He said that God + created few Englishmen of my kind, and that I was the incarnation of all + human virtues. He offered me some of his sweets as tribute, and by + accepting these I acknowledged him as my feudatory under the skirt of my + protection. + </p> + <p> + Three weeks later I noticed that the boy was in the habit of cooking + Naboth’s mid-day meal for him, and Naboth was beginning to grow a stomach. + He had hacked away more of my shrubbery and owned another and a fatter + account-book. + </p> + <p> + Eleven weeks later Naboth had eaten his way nearly through that shrubbery, + and there was a reed hut with a bedstead outside it, standing in the + little glade that he had eroded. Two dogs and a baby slept on the + bedstead. So I fancied Naboth had taken a wife. He said that he had, by my + favour, done this thing, and that I was several times finer than Krishna. + Six weeks and two days later a mud wall had grown up at the back of the + hut. There were fowls in front and it smelt a little. The Municipal + Secretary said that a cess-pool was forming in the public road from the + drainage of my compound, and that I must take steps to clear it away. I + spoke to Naboth. He said I was Lord Paramount of his earthly concerns, and + the garden was all my own property, and sent me some more sweets in a + second-hand duster. + </p> + <p> + Two months later a coolie bricklayer was killed in a scuffle that took + place opposite Naboth’s Vineyard. The Inspector of Police said it was a + serious case; went into my servants’ quarters; insulted my butler’s wife, + and wanted to arrest my butler. The curious thing about the murder was + that most of the coolies were drunk at the time. Naboth pointed out that + my name was a strong shield between him and his enemies, and he expected + that another baby would be born to him shortly. + </p> + <p> + Four months later the hut was ALL mud walls, very solidly built, and + Naboth had used most of my shrubbery for his five goats. A silver watch + and an aluminium chain shone upon his very round stomach. My servants were + alarmingly drunk several times, and used to waste the day with Naboth when + they got the chance. I spoke to Naboth. He said, by my favour and the + glory of my countenance, he would make all his women-folk ladies, and that + if any one hinted that he was running an illicit still under the shadow of + the tamarisks, why, I, his Suzerain, was to prosecute. + </p> + <p> + A week later he hired a man to make several dozen square yards of + trellis-work to put around the back of his hut, that his women-folk might + be screened from the public gaze. The man went away in the evening, and + left his day’s work to pave the short cut from the public road to my + house. I was driving home in the dusk, and turned the corner by Naboth’s + Vineyard quickly. The next thing I knew was that the horses of the phaeton + were stamping and plunging in the strongest sort of bamboo net-work. Both + beasts came down. One rose with nothing more than chipped knees. The other + was so badly kicked that I was forced to shoot him. + </p> + <p> + Naboth is gone now, and his hut is ploughed into its native mud with + sweetmeats instead of salt for a sign that the place is accursed. I have + built a summer-house to overlook the end of the garden, and it is as a + fort on my frontier whence I guard my Empire. + </p> + <p> + I know exactly how Ahab felt. He has been shamefully misrepresented in the + Scriptures. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DREAM OF DUNCAN PARRENNESS + </h2> + <p> + [Footnote: Copyright, 1891, by MACMILLAN & Co.] + </p> + <p> + Like Mr. Bunyan of old, I, Duncan Parrenness, Writer to the Most + Honourable the East India Company, in this God-forgotten city of Calcutta, + have dreamed a dream, and never since that Kitty my mare fell lame have I + been so troubled. Therefore, lest I should forget my dream, I have made + shift to set it down here. Though Heaven knows how unhandy the pen is to + me who was always readier with sword than ink-horn when I left London two + long years since. + </p> + <p> + When the Governor-General’s great dance (that he gives yearly at the + latter end of November) was finisht, I had gone to mine own room which + looks over that sullen, un-English stream, the Hoogly, scarce so sober as + I might have been. Now, roaring drunk in the West is but fuddled in the + East, and I was drunk Nor’-Nor’ Easterly as Mr. Shakespeare might have + said. Yet, in spite of my liquor, the cool night winds (though I have + heard that they breed chills and fluxes innumerable) sobered me somewhat; + and I remembered that I had been but a little wrung and wasted by all the + sicknesses of the past four months, whereas those young bloods that came + eastward with me in the same ship had been all, a month back, planted to + Eternity in the foul soil north of Writers’ Buildings. So then, I thanked + God mistily (though, to my shame, I never kneeled down to do so) for + license to live, at least till March should be upon us again. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, we that were alive (and our number was less by far than those who + had gone to their last account in the hot weather late past) had made very + merry that evening, by the ramparts of the Fort, over this kindness of + Providence; though our jests were neither witty nor such as I should have + liked my Mother to hear. + </p> + <p> + When I had lain down (or rather thrown me on my bed) and the fumes of my + drink had a little cleared away, I found that I could get no sleep for + thinking of a thousand things that were better left alone. First, and it + was a long time since I had thought of her, the sweet face of Kitty + Somerset, drifted, as it might have been drawn in a picture, across the + foot of my bed, so plainly, that I almost thought she had been present in + the body. Then I remembered how she drove me to this accursed country to + get rich, that I might the more quickly marry her, our parents on both + sides giving their consent; and then how she thought better (or worse may + be) of her troth, and wed Tom Sanderson but a short three months after I + had sailed. From Kitty I fell a-musing on Mrs. Vansuythen, a tall pale + woman with violet eyes that had come to Calcutta from the Dutch Factory at + Chinsura, and had set all our young men, and not a few of the factors, by + the ears. Some of our ladies, it is true, said that she had never a + husband or marriage-lines at all; but women, and specially those who have + led only indifferent good lives themselves, are cruel hard one on another. + Besides, Mrs. Vansuythen was far prettier than them all. She had been most + gracious to me at the Governor-General’s rout, and indeed I was looked + upon by all as her preux chevalier—which is French for a much worse + word. Now, whether I cared so much as the scratch of a pin for this same + Mrs. Vansuythen (albeit I had vowed eternal love three days after we met) + I knew not then nor did till later on; but mine own pride, and a skill in + the small sword that no man in Calcutta could equal, kept me in her + affections. So that I believed I worshipt her. + </p> + <p> + When I had dismist her violet eyes from my thoughts, my reason reproacht + me for ever having followed her at all; and I saw how the one year that I + had lived in this land had so burnt and seared my mind with the flames of + a thousand bad passions and desires, that I had aged ten months for each + one in the Devil’s school. Whereat I thought of my Mother for a while, and + was very penitent: making in my sinful tipsy mood a thousand vows of + reformation—all since broken, I fear me, again and again. To-morrow, + says I to myself, I will live cleanly for ever. And I smiled dizzily (the + liquor being still strong in me) to think of the dangers I had escaped; + and built all manner of fine Castles in Spain, whereof a shadowy Kitty + Somerset that had the violet eyes and the sweet slow speech of Mrs. + Vansuythen, was always Queen. + </p> + <p> + Lastly, a very fine and magnificent courage (that doubtless had its birth + in Mr. Hastings’ Madeira) grew upon me, till it seemed that I could become + Governor-General, Nawab, Prince, ay, even the Great Mogul himself, by the + mere wishing of it. Wherefore, taking my first steps, random and unstable + enough, towards my new kingdom, I kickt my servants sleeping without till + they howled and ran from me, and called Heaven and Earth to witness that + I, Duncan Parrenness, was a Writer in the service of the Company and + afraid of no man. Then, seeing that neither the Moon nor the Great Bear + were minded to accept my challenge, I lay down again and must have fallen + asleep. + </p> + <p> + I was waked presently by my last words repeated two or three times, and I + saw that there had come into the room a drunken man, as I thought, from + Mr. Hastings’ rout. He sate down at the foot of my bed in all the world as + it belonged to him, and I took note, as well as I could, that his face was + somewhat like mine own grown older, save when it changed to the face of + the Governor-General or my father, dead these six months. But this seemed + to me only natural, and the due result of too much wine; and I was so + angered at his entry all unannounced, that I told him, not over civilly, + to go. To all my words he made no answer whatever, only saying slowly, as + though it were some sweet morsel: ‘Writer in the Company’s service and + afraid of no man.’ Then he stops short, and turning round sharp upon me, + says that one of my kidney need fear neither man nor devil; that I was a + brave young man, and like enough, should I live so long, to be + Governor-General. But for all these things (and I suppose that he meant + thereby the changes and chances of our shifty life in these parts) I must + pay my price. By this time I had sobered somewhat, and being well waked + out of my first sleep, was disposed to look upon the matter as a tipsy + man’s jest. So, says I merrily: ‘And what price shall I pay for this + palace of mine, which is but twelve feet square, and my five poor pagodas + a month? The Devil take you and your jesting: I have paid my price twice + over in sickness.’ At that moment my man turns full towards me: so that by + the moonlight I could see every line and wrinkle of his face. Then my + drunken mirth died out of me, as I have seen the waters of our great + rivers die away in one night; and I, Duncan Parrenness, who was afraid of + no man, was taken with a more deadly terror than I hold it has ever been + the lot of mortal man to know. For I saw that his face was my very own, + but marked and lined and scarred with the furrows of disease and much evil + living—as I once, when I was (Lord help me) very drunk indeed, have + seen mine own face, all white and drawn and grown old, in a mirror. I take + it that any man would have been even more greatly feared than I. For I am + in no way wanting in courage. + </p> + <p> + After I had lain still for a little, sweating in my agony and waiting + until I should awake from this terrible dream (for dream I knew it to be) + he says again, that I must pay my price, and a little after, as though it + were to be given in pagodas and sicca rupees: ‘What price will you pay?’ + Says I, very softly: ‘For God’s sake let me be, whoever you are, and I + will mend my ways from to-night.’ Says he, laughing a little at my words, + but otherwise making no motion of having heard them: ‘Nay, I would only + rid so brave a young ruffler as yourself of much that will be a great + hindrance to you on your way through life in the Indies; for believe me,’ + and here he looks full on me once more, ‘there is no return.’ At all this + rigmarole, which I could not then understand, I was a good deal put aback + and waited for what should come next. Says he very calmly, ‘Give me your + trust in man.’ At that I saw how heavy would be my price, for I never + doubted but that he could take from me all that he asked, and my head was, + through terror and wakefulness, altogether cleared of the wine I had + drunk. So I takes him up very short, crying that I was not so wholly bad + as he would make believe, and that I trusted my fellows to the full as + much as they were worthy of it. ‘It was none of my fault,’ says I, ‘if one + half of them were liars and the other half deserved to be burnt in the + hand, and I would once more ask him to have done with his questions.’ Then + I stopped, a little afraid, it is true, to have let my tongue so run away + with me, but he took no notice of this, and only laid his hand lightly on + my left breast and I felt very cold there for a while. Then he says, + laughing more: ‘Give me your faith in women.’ At that I started in my bed + as though I had been stung, for I thought of my sweet mother in England, + and for a while fancied that my faith in God’s best creatures could + neither be shaken nor stolen from me. But later, Myself’s hard eyes being + upon me, I fell to thinking, for the second time that night, of Kitty (she + that jilted me and married Tom Sanderson) and of Mistress Vansuythen, whom + only my devilish pride made me follow, and how she was even worse than + Kitty, and I worst of them all—seeing that with my life’s work to be + done, I must needs go dancing down the Devil’s swept and garnished + causeway, because, forsooth, there was a light woman’s smile at the end of + it. And I thought that all women in the world were either like Kitty or + Mistress Vansuythen (as indeed they have ever since been to me) and this + put me to such an extremity of rage and sorrow, that I was beyond word + glad when Myself’s hand fell again on my left breast, and I was no more + troubled by these follies. + </p> + <p> + After this he was silent for a little, and I made sure that he must go or + I awake ere long: but presently he speaks again (and very softly) that I + was a fool to care for such follies as those he had taken from me, and + that ere he went he would only ask me for a few other trifles such as no + man, or for matter of that boy either, would keep about him in this + country. And so it happened that he took from out of my very heart as it + were, looking all the time into my face with my own eyes, as much as + remained to me of my boy’s soul and conscience. This was to me a far more + terrible loss than the two that I had suffered before. For though, Lord + help me, I had travelled far enough from all paths of decent or godly + living, yet there was in me, though I myself write it, a certain goodness + of heart which, when I was sober (or sick) made me very sorry of all that + I had done before the fit came on me. And this I lost wholly: having in + place thereof another deadly coldness at the heart. I am not, as I have + before said, ready with my pen, so I fear that what I have just written + may not be readily understood. Yet there be certain times in a young man’s + life, when, through great sorrow or sin, all the boy in him is burnt and + seared away so that he passes at one step to the more sorrowful state of + manhood: as our staring Indian day changes into night with never so much + as the gray of twilight to temper the two extremes. This shall perhaps + make my state more clear, if it be remembered that my torment was ten + times as great as comes in the natural course of nature to any man. At + that time I dared not think of the change that had come over me, and all + in one night: though I have often thought of it since. ‘I have paid the + price,’ says I, my teeth chattering, for I was deadly cold, ‘and what is + my return?’ At this time it was nearly dawn, and Myself had begun to grow + pale and thin against the white light in the east, as my mother used to + tell me is the custom of ghosts and devils and the like. He made as if he + would go, but my words stopt him and he laughed—as I remember that I + laughed when I ran Angus Macalister through the sword-arm last August, + because he said that Mrs. Vansuythen was no better than she should be. + ‘What return?’—says he, catching up my last words—‘Why, + strength to live as long as God or the Devil pleases, and so long as you + live my young master, my gift.’ With that he puts something into my hand, + though it was still too dark to see what it was, and when next I lookt up + he was gone. + </p> + <p> + When the light came I made shift to behold his gift, and saw that it was a + little piece of dry bread. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE INCARNATION OF KRISHNA MULVANEY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Wohl auf, my bully cavaliers, + We ride to church to-day, + The man that hasn’t got a horse + Must steal one straight away. + + Be reverent, men, remember + This is a Gottes haus. + Du, Conrad, cut along der aisle + And schenck der whiskey aus. + HANS BREITMANN’S RIDE TO CHURCH. +</pre> + <p> + Once upon a time, very far from England, there lived three men who loved + each other so greatly that neither man nor woman could come between them. + They were in no sense refined, nor to be admitted to the outer-door mats + of decent folk, because they happened to be private soldiers in Her + Majesty’s Army; and private soldiers of our service have small time for + self-culture. Their duty is to keep themselves and their accoutrements + specklessly clean, to refrain from getting drunk more often than is + necessary, to obey their superiors, and to pray for a war. All these + things my friends accomplished; and of their own motion threw in some + fighting-work for which the Army Regulations did not call. Their fate sent + them to serve in India, which is not a golden country, though poets have + sung otherwise. There men die with great swiftness, and those who live + suffer many and curious things. I do not think that my friends concerned + themselves much with the social or political aspects of the East. They + attended a not unimportant war on the northern frontier, another one on + our western boundary, and a third in Upper Burma. Then their regiment sat + still to recruit, and the boundless monotony of cantonment life was their + portion. They were drilled morning and evening on the same dusty + parade-ground. They wandered up and down the same stretch of dusty white + road, attended the same church and the same grog-shop, and slept in the + same lime-washed barn of a barrack for two long years. There was Mulvaney, + the father in the craft, who had served with various regiments from + Bermuda to Halifax, old in war, scarred, reckless, resourceful, and in his + pious hours an unequalled soldier. To him turned for help and comfort six + and a half feet of slow-moving, heavy-footed Yorkshireman, born on the + wolds, bred in the dales, and educated chiefly among the carriers’ carts + at the back of York railway-station. His name was Learoyd, and his chief + virtue an unmitigated patience which helped him to win fights. How + Ortheris, a fox-terrier of a Cockney, ever came to be one of the trio, is + a mystery which even to-day I cannot explain. ‘There was always three av + us,’ Mulvaney used to say. ‘An’ by the grace av God, so long as our + service lasts, three av us they’ll always be. ‘Tis betther so.’ + </p> + <p> + They desired no companionship beyond their own, and it was evil for any + man of the regiment who attempted dispute with them. Physical argument was + out of the question as regarded Mulvaney and the Yorkshireman; and assault + on Ortheris meant a combined attack from these twain—a business + which no five men were anxious to have on their hands. Therefore they + flourished, sharing their drinks, their tobacco, and their money; good + luck and evil; battle and the chances of death; life and the chances of + happiness from Calicut in southern, to Peshawur in northern India. + </p> + <p> + Through no merit of my own it was my good fortune to be in a measure + admitted to their friendship—frankly by Mulvaney from the beginning, + sullenly and with reluctance by Learoyd, and suspiciously by Ortheris, who + held to it that no man not in the Army could fraternise with a red-coat. + ‘Like to like,’ said he. ‘I’m a bloomin’ sodger—he’s a bloomin’ + civilian. ‘Tain’t natural—that’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + But that was not all. They thawed progressively, and in the thawing told + me more of their lives and adventures than I am ever likely to write. + </p> + <p> + Omitting all else, this tale begins with the Lamentable Thirst that was at + the beginning of First Causes. Never was such a thirst—Mulvaney told + me so. They kicked against their compulsory virtue, but the attempt was + only successful in the case of Ortheris. He, whose talents were many, went + forth into the highways and stole a dog from a ‘civilian’—videlicet, + some one, he knew not who, not in the Army. Now that civilian was but + newly connected by marriage with the colonel of the regiment, and outcry + was made from quarters least anticipated by Ortheris, and, in the end, he + was forced, lest a worse thing should happen, to dispose at ridiculously + unremunerative rates of as promising a small terrier as ever graced one + end of a leading string. The purchase-money was barely sufficient for one + small outbreak which led him to the guard-room. He escaped, however, with + nothing worse than a severe reprimand, and a few hours of punishment + drill. Not for nothing had he acquired the reputation of being ‘the best + soldier of his inches’ in the regiment. Mulvaney had taught personal + cleanliness and efficiency as the first articles of his companions’ creed. + ‘A dhirty man,’ he was used to say, in the speech of his kind, ‘goes to + Clink for a weakness in the knees, an’ is coort-martialled for a pair av + socks missin’; but a clane man, such as is an ornament to his service—a + man whose buttons are gold, whose coat is wax upon him, an’ whose + ‘coutrements are widout a speck—THAT man may, spakin’ in reason, do + fwhat he likes an’ dhrink from day to divil. That’s the pride av bein’ + dacint.’ + </p> + <p> + We sat together, upon a day, in the shade of a ravine far from the + barracks, where a watercourse used to run in rainy weather. Behind us was + the scrub jungle, in which jackals, peacocks, the gray wolves of the + North-Western Provinces, and occasionally a tiger estrayed from Central + India, were supposed to dwell. In front lay the cantonment, glaring white + under a glaring sun; and on either side ran the broad road that led to + Delhi. + </p> + <p> + It was the scrub that suggested to my mind the wisdom of Mulvaney taking a + day’s leave and going upon a shooting-tour. The peacock is a holy bird + throughout India, and he who slays one is in danger of being mobbed by the + nearest villagers; but on the last occasion that Mulvaney had gone forth, + he had contrived, without in the least offending local religious + susceptibilities, to return with six beautiful peacock skins which he sold + to profit. It seemed just possible then— + </p> + <p> + ‘But fwhat manner av use is ut to me goin’ out widout a dhrink? The + ground’s powdher-dhry underfoot, an’ ut gets unto the throat fit to kill,’ + wailed Mulvaney, looking at me reproachfully. ‘An’ a peacock is not a bird + you can catch the tail av onless ye run. Can a man run on wather—an’ + jungle-wather too?’ + </p> + <p> + Ortheris had considered the question in all its bearings. He spoke, + chewing his pipe-stem meditatively the while: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘Go forth, return in glory, To Clusium’s royal ‘ome: + An’ round these bloomin’ temples ‘ang + The bloomin’ shields o’ Rome. +</pre> + <p> + You better go. You ain’t like to shoot yourself—not while there’s a + chanst of liquor. Me an’ Learoyd’ll stay at ‘ome an’ keep shop—‘case + o’ anythin’ turnin’ up. But you go out with a gas-pipe gun an’ ketch the + little peacockses or somethin’. You kin get one day’s leave easy as + winkin’. Go along an’ get it, an’ get peacockses or somethin’.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Jock,’ said Mulvaney, turning to Learoyd, who was half asleep under the + shadow of the bank. He roused slowly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sitha, Mulvaaney, go,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + And Mulvaney went; cursing his allies with Irish fluency and barrack-room + point. + </p> + <p> + ‘Take note,’ said he, when he had won his holiday, and appeared dressed in + his roughest clothes with the only other regimental fowling-piece in his + hand. ‘Take note, Jock, an’ you Orth’ris, I am goin’ in the face av my own + will—all for to please you. I misdoubt anythin’ will come av + permiscuous huntin’ afther peacockses in a desolit lan’; an’ I know that I + will lie down an’ die wid thirrrst. Me catch peacockses for you, ye lazy + scutts—an’ be sacrificed by the peasanthry—Ugh!’ + </p> + <p> + He waved a huge paw and went away. + </p> + <p> + At twilight, long before the appointed hour, he returned empty-handed, + much begrimed with dirt. + </p> + <p> + ‘Peacockses?’ queried Ortheris from the safe rest of a barrack-room table + whereon he was smoking cross-legged, Learoyd fast asleep on a bench. + </p> + <p> + ‘Jock,’ said Mulvaney without answering, as he stirred up the sleeper. + ‘Jock, can ye fight? Will ye fight?’ + </p> + <p> + Very slowly the meaning of the words communicated itself to the + half-roused man. He understood—and again—what might these + things mean? Mulvaney was shaking him savagely. Meantime the men in the + room howled with delight. There was war in the confederacy at last—war + and the breaking of bonds. + </p> + <p> + Barrack-room etiquette is stringent. On the direct challenge must follow + the direct reply. This is more binding than the ties of tried friendship. + Once again Mulvaney repeated the question. Learoyd answered by the only + means in his power, and so swiftly that the Irishman had barely time to + avoid the blow. The laughter around increased. Learoyd looked bewilderedly + at his friend—himself as greatly bewildered. Ortheris dropped from + the table because his world was falling. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come outside,’ said Mulvaney, and as the occupants of the barrack-room + prepared joyously to follow, he turned and said furiously, ‘There will be + no fight this night—onless any wan av you is wishful to assist. The + man that does, follows on.’ + </p> + <p> + No man moved. The three passed out into the moonlight, Learoyd fumbling + with the buttons of his coat. The parade-ground was deserted except for + the scurrying jackals. Mulvaney’s impetuous rush carried his companions + far into the open ere Learoyd attempted to turn round and continue the + discussion. + </p> + <p> + ‘Be still now. ‘Twas my fault for beginnin’ things in the middle av an + end, Jock. I should ha’ comminst wid an explanation; but Jock, dear, on + your sowl are ye fit, think you, for the finest fight that iver was—betther + than fightin’ me? Considher before ye answer.’ + </p> + <p> + More than ever puzzled, Learoyd turned round two or three times, felt an + arm, kicked tentatively, and answered, ‘Ah’m fit.’ He was accustomed to + fight blindly at the bidding of the superior mind. + </p> + <p> + They sat them down, the men looking on from afar, and Mulvaney untangled + himself in mighty words. + </p> + <p> + ‘Followin’ your fools’ scheme I wint out into the thrackless desert beyond + the barricks. An’ there I met a pious Hindu dhriving a bullock-kyart. I + tuk ut for granted he wud be delighted for to convoy me a piece, an’ I + jumped in—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You long, lazy, black-haired swine,’ drawled Ortheris, who would have + done the same thing under similar circumstances. + </p> + <p> + ‘’Twas the height av policy. That naygur-man dhruv miles an’ miles—as + far as the new railway line they’re buildin’ now back av the Tavi river. + “‘Tis a kyart for dhirt only,” says he now an’ again timoreously, to get + me out av ut. “Dhirt I am,” sez I, “an’ the dhryest that you iver kyarted. + Dhrive on, me son, an glory be wid you.” At that I wint to slape, an’ took + no heed till he pulled up on the embankmint av the line where the coolies + were pilin’ mud. There was a matther av two thousand coolies on that line—you + remimber that. Prisintly a bell rang, an’ they throops off to a big + pay-shed. “Where’s the white man in charge?” sez I to my kyart-dhriver. + “In the shed,” sez he, “engaged on a riffle.”—“A fwhat?” sez I. + “Riffle,” sez he. “You take ticket. He take money. You get nothin’.”— + </p> + <p> + “Oho!” sez I, “that’s fwhat the shuperior an’ cultivated man calls a + raffle, me misbeguided child av darkness an’ sin. Lead on to that raffle, + though fwhat the mischief ‘tis doin’ so far away from uts home—which + is the charity-bazaar at Christmas, an’ the colonel’s wife grinnin’ behind + the tea-table—is more than I know.” Wid that I wint to the shed an’ + found ‘twas pay-day among the coolies. Their wages was on a table forninst + a big, fine, red buck av a man—sivun fut high, four fut wide, an’ + three fut thick, wid a fist on him like a corn-sack. He was payin’ the + coolies fair an’ easy, but he wud ask each man if he wud raffle that + month, an’ each man sez? “Yes,” av course. Thin he wud deduct from their + wages accordin’. Whin all was paid, he filled an ould cigar-box full av + gun-wads an’ scatthered ut among the coolies. They did not take much joy + av that performince, an’ small wondher. A man close to me picks up a black + gun-wad an’ sings out, “I have ut.”—“Good may ut do you,” sez I. The + coolie wint forward to this big, fine, red man, who threw a cloth off av + the most sumpshus, jooled, enamelled an’ variously bedivilled sedan-chair + I iver saw.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sedan-chair! Put your ‘ead in a bag. That was a palanquin. Don’t yer know + a palanquin when you see it?’ said Ortheris with great scorn. + </p> + <p> + ‘I chuse to call ut sedan-chair, an’ chair ut shall be, little man,’ + continued the Irishman. ‘’Twas a most amazin’ chair—all lined wid + pink silk an’ fitted wid red silk curtains. “Here ut is,” sez the red man. + “Here ut is,” sez the coolie, an’ he grinned weakly-ways. “Is ut any use + to you?” sez the red man. “No,” sez the coolie; “I’d like to make a + presint av ut to you.”—“I am graciously pleased to accept that + same,” sez the red man; an’ at that all the coolies cried aloud in fwhat + was mint for cheerful notes, an’ wint back to their diggin’, lavin’ me + alone in the shed. The red man saw me, an’ his face grew blue on his big, + fat neck. “Fwhat d’you want here?” sez he. “Standin’-room an’ no more,” + sez I, “onless it may be fwhat ye niver had, an’ that’s manners, ye + rafflin’ ruffian,” for I was not goin’ to have the Service throd upon. + “Out of this,” sez he. “I’m in charge av this section av construction.”—“I’m + in charge av mesilf,” sez I, “an’ it’s like I will stay a while. D’ye + raffle much in these parts?”—“Fwhat’s that to you?” sez he. + “Nothin’,” sez I, “but a great dale to you, for begad I’m thinkin’ you get + the full half av your revenue from that sedan-chair. Is ut always raffled + so?” I sez, an’ wid that I wint to a coolie to ask questions. Bhoys, that + man’s name is Dearsley, an’ he’s been rafflin’ that ould sedan-chair + monthly this matther av nine months. Ivry coolie on the section takes a + ticket—or he gives ‘em the go—wanst a month on pay-day. Ivry + coolie that wins ut gives ut back to him, for ‘tis too big to carry away, + an’ he’d sack the man that thried to sell ut. That Dearsley has been + makin’ the rowlin’ wealth av Roshus by nefarious rafflin’. Think av the + burnin’ shame to the sufferin’ coolie-man that the army in Injia are bound + to protect an’ nourish in their bosoms! Two thousand coolies defrauded + wanst a month!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dom t’ coolies. Has’t gotten t’ cheer, man?’ said Learoyd. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hould on. Havin’ onearthed this amazin’ an’ stupenjus fraud committed by + the man Dearsley, I hild a council av war; he thryin’ all the time to + sejuce me into a fight with opprobrious language. That sedan-chair niver + belonged by right to any foreman av coolies. ‘Tis a king’s chair or a + quane’s. There’s gold on ut an’ silk an’ all manner av trapesemints. + Bhoys, ‘tis not for me to countenance any sort av wrong-doin’—me + bein’ the ould man—but—anyway he has had ut nine months, an’ + he dare not make throuble av ut was taken from him. Five miles away, or ut + may be six—’ + </p> + <p> + There was a long pause, and the jackals howled merrily. Learoyd bared one + arm, and contemplated it in the moonlight. Then he nodded partly to + himself and partly to his friends. Ortheris wriggled with suppressed + emotion. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought ye wud see the reasonableness av ut,’ said Mulvaney. ‘I made + bould to say as much to the man before. He was for a direct front attack—fut, + horse, an’ guns—an’ all for nothin’, seein’ that I had no thransport + to convey the machine away. “I will not argue wid you,” sez I, “this day, + but subsequently, Mister Dearsley, me rafflin’ jool, we talk ut out + lengthways. ‘Tis no good policy to swindle the naygur av his hard-earned + emolumints, an’ by presint informashin’”—‘twas the kyart man that + tould me—“ye’ve been perpethrating that same for nine months. But + I’m a just man,” sez I, “an’ overlookin’ the presumpshin that yondher + settee wid the gilt top was not come by honust”—at that he turned + sky-green, so I knew things was more thrue than tellable—“not come + by honust, I’m willin’ to compound the felony for this month’s winnin’s.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Ho!’ from Learoyd and Ortheris. + </p> + <p> + ‘That man Dearsley’s rushin’ on his fate,’ continued Mulvaney, solemnly + wagging his head. ‘All Hell had no name bad enough for me that tide. + Faith, he called me a robber! Me! that was savin’ him from continuin’ in + his evil ways widout a remonstrince—an’ to a man av conscience a + remonstrince may change the chune av his life. “‘Tis not for me to argue,” + sez I, “fwhatever ye are, Mister Dearsley, but, by my hand, I’ll take away + the temptation for you that lies in that sedan-chair.”—“You will + have to fight me for ut,” sez he, “for well I know you will never dare + make report to any one.”—“Fight I will,” sez I, “but not this day, + for I’m rejuced for want av nourishment.”—“Ye’re an ould bould + hand,” sez he, sizin’ me up an’ down; “an’ a jool av a fight we will have. + Eat now an’ dhrink, an’ go your way.” Wid that he gave me some hump an’ + whisky—good whisky—an’ we talked av this an’ that the while. + “It goes hard on me now,” sez I, wipin’ my mouth, “to confiscate that + piece av furniture, but justice is justice.”—“Ye’ve not got ut yet,” + sez he; “there’s the fight between.”—“There is,” sez I, “an’ a good + fight. Ye shall have the pick av the best quality in my rigimint for the + dinner you have given this day.” Thin I came hot-foot to you two. Hould + your tongue, the both. ‘Tis this way. To-morrow we three will go there an’ + he shall have his pick betune me an’ Jock. Jock’s a deceivin’ fighter, for + he is all fat to the eye, an’ he moves slow. Now, I’m all beef to the + look, an’ I move quick. By my reckonin’ the Dearsley man won’t take me; so + me an’ Orth’ris ‘ll see fair play. Jock, I tell you, ’twill be big fightin’—whipped, + wid the cream above the jam. Afther the business ‘twill take a good three + av us—Jock ‘ll be very hurt—to haul away that sedan-chair.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Palanquin.’ This from Ortheris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fwhatever ut is, we must have ut. ‘Tis the only sellin’ piece av property + widin reach that we can get so cheap. An’ fwhat’s a fight afther all? He + has robbed the naygur-man, dishonust. We rob him honust for the sake av + the whisky he gave me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But wot’ll we do with the bloomin’ article when we’ve got it? Them + palanquins are as big as ‘ouses, an’ uncommon ‘ard to sell, as McCleary + said when ye stole the sentry-box from the Curragh.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who’s goin’ to do t’ fightin’?’ said Learoyd, and Ortheris subsided. The + three returned to barracks without a word. Mulvaney’s last argument + clinched the matter. This palanquin was property, vendible, and to be + attained in the simplest and least embarrassing fashion. It would + eventually become beer. Great was Mulvaney. + </p> + <p> + Next afternoon a procession of three formed itself and disappeared into + the scrub in the direction of the new railway line. Learoyd alone was + without care, for Mulvaney dived darkly into the future, and little + Ortheris feared the unknown. What befell at that interview in the lonely + pay-shed by the side of the half-built embankment, only a few hundred + coolies know, and their tale is confusing one, running thus— + </p> + <p> + ‘We were at work. Three men in red coats came. They saw the Sahib—Dearsley + Sahib. They made oration; and noticeably the small man among the + red-coats. Dearsley Sahib also made oration, and used many very strong + words. Upon this talk they departed together to an open space, and there + the fat man in the red coat fought with Dearsley Sahib after the custom of + white men—with his hands, making no noise, and never at all pulling + Dearsley Sahib’s hair. Such of us as were not afraid beheld these things + for just so long a time as a man needs to cook the mid-day meal. The small + man in the red coat had possessed himself of Dearsley Sahib’s watch. No, + he did not steal that watch. He held it in his hand, and at certain + seasons made outcry, and the twain ceased their combat, which was like the + combat of young bulls in spring. Both men were soon all red, but Dearsley + Sahib was much more red than the other. Seeing this, and fearing for his + life—because we greatly loved him—some fifty of us made shift + to rush upon the red-coats. But a certain man—very black as to the + hair, and in no way to be confused with the small man, or the fat man who + fought—that man, we affirm, ran upon us, and of us he embraced some + ten or fifty in both arms, and beat our heads together, so that our livers + turned to water, and we ran away. It is not good to interfere in the + fightings of white men. After that Dearsley Sahib fell and did not rise, + these men jumped upon his stomach and despoiled him of all his money, and + attempted to fire the pay-shed, and departed. Is it true that Dearsley + Sahib makes no complaint of these latter things having been done? We were + senseless with fear, and do not at all remember. There was no palanquin + near the pay-shed. What do we know about palanquins? Is it true that + Dearsley Sahib does not return to this place, on account of his sickness, + for ten days? This is the fault of those bad men in the red coats, who + should be severely punished; for Dearsley Sahib is both our father and + mother, and we love him much. Yet, if Dearsley Sahib does not return to + this place at all, we will speak the truth. There was a palanquin, for the + up-keep of which we were forced to pay nine-tenths of our monthly wage. On + such mulctings Dearsley Sahib allowed us to make obeisance to him before + the palanquin. What could we do? We were poor men. He took a full half of + our wages. Will the Government repay us those moneys? Those three men in + red coats bore the palanquin upon their shoulders and departed. All the + money that Dearsley Sahib had taken from us was in the cushions of that + palanquin. Therefore they stole it. Thousands of rupees were there—all + our money. It was our bank-box, to fill which we cheerfully contributed to + Dearsley Sahib three-sevenths of our monthly wage. Why does the white man + look upon us with the eye of disfavour? Before God, there was a palanquin, + and now there is no palanquin; and if they send the police here to make + inquisition, we can only say that there never has been any palanquin. Why + should a palanquin be near these works? We are poor men, and we know + nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + Such is the simplest version of the simplest story connected with the + descent upon Dearsley. From the lips of the coolies I received it. + Dearsley himself was in no condition to say anything, and Mulvaney + preserved a massive silence, broken only by the occasional licking of the + lips. He had seen a fight so gorgeous that even his power of speech was + taken from him. I respected that reserve until, three days after the + affair, I discovered in a disused stable in my quarters a palanquin of + unchastened splendour—evidently in past days the litter of a queen. + The pole whereby it swung between the shoulders of the bearers was rich + with the painted papier-mache of Cashmere. The shoulder-pads were of + yellow silk. The panels of the litter itself were ablaze with the loves of + all the gods and goddesses of the Hindu Pantheon—lacquer on cedar. + The cedar sliding doors were fitted with hasps of translucent Jaipur + enamel and ran in grooves shod with silver. The cushions were of brocaded + Delhi silk, and the curtains which once hid any glimpse of the beauty of + the king’s palace were stiff with gold. Closer investigation showed that + the entire fabric was everywhere rubbed and discoloured by time and wear; + but even thus it was sufficiently gorgeous to deserve housing on the + threshold of a royal zenana. I found no fault with it, except that it was + in my stable. Then, trying to lift it by the silver-shod shoulder-pole, I + laughed. The road from Dearsley’s pay-shed to the cantonment was a narrow + and uneven one, and, traversed by three very inexperienced + palanquin-bearers, one of whom was sorely battered about the head, must + have been a path of torment. Still I did not quite recognise the right of + the three musketeers to turn me into a ‘fence’ for stolen property. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m askin’ you to warehouse ut,’ said Mulvaney when he was brought to + consider the question. ‘There’s no steal in ut. Dearsley tould us we cud + have ut if we fought. Jock fought—an’, oh, sorr, when the throuble + was at uts finest an’ Jock was bleedin’ like a stuck pig, an’ little + Orth’ris was shquealin’ on one leg chewin’ big bites out av Dearsley’s + watch, I wud ha’ given my place at the fight to have had you see wan + round. He tuk Jock, as I suspicioned he would, an’ Jock was deceptive. + Nine roun’s they were even matched, an’ at the tenth—About that + palanquin now. There’s not the least throuble in the world, or we wud not + ha’ brought ut here. You will ondherstand that the Queen—God bless + her!—does not reckon for a privit soldier to kape elephints an’ + palanquins an’ sich in barricks. Afther we had dhragged ut down from + Dearsley’s through that cruel scrub that near broke Orth’ris’s heart, we + set ut in the ravine for a night; an’ a thief av a porcupine an’ a + civet-cat av a jackal roosted in ut, as well we knew in the mornin’. I put + ut to you, sorr, is an elegint palanquin, fit for the princess, the + natural abidin’ place av all the vermin in cantonmints? We brought ut to + you, afther dhark, and put ut in your shtable. Do not let your conscience + prick. Think av the rejoicin’ men in the pay-shed yonder—lookin’ at + Dearsley wid his head tied up in a towel—an’ well knowin’ that they + can dhraw their pay ivry month widout stoppages for riffles. Indirectly, + sorr, you have rescued from an onprincipled son av a night-hawk the + peasanthry av a numerous village. An’ besides, will I let that sedan-chair + rot on our hands? Not I. ‘Tis not every day a piece av pure joolry comes + into the market. There’s not a king widin these forty miles’—he + waved his hand round the dusty horizon—‘not a king wud not be glad + to buy ut. Some day meself, whin I have leisure, I’ll take ut up along the + road an’ dishpose av ut.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How?’ said I, for I knew the man was capable of anything. + </p> + <p> + ‘Get into ut, av coorse, and keep wan eye open through the curtains. Whin + I see a likely man av the native persuasion, I will descind blushin’ from + my canopy and say, “Buy a palanquin, ye black scutt?” I will have to hire + four men to carry me first, though; and that’s impossible till next + pay-day.’ + </p> + <p> + Curiously enough, Learoyd, who had fought for the prize, and in the + winning secured the highest pleasure life had to offer him, was altogether + disposed to undervalue it, while Ortheris openly said it would be better + to break the thing up. Dearsley, he argued, might be a many-sided man, + capable, despite his magnificent fighting qualities, of setting in motion + the machinery of the civil law—a thing much abhorred by the soldier. + Under any circumstances their fun had come and passed; the next pay-day + was close at hand, when there would be beer for all. Wherefore longer + conserve the painted palanquin? + </p> + <p> + ‘A first-class rifle-shot an’ a good little man av your inches you are,’ + said Mulvaney. ‘But you niver had a head worth a soft-boiled egg. ‘Tis me + has to lie awake av nights schamin’ an’ plottin’ for the three av us. + Orth’ris, me son, ‘tis no matther av a few gallons av beer—no, nor + twenty gallons—but tubs an’ vats an’ firkins in that sedan-chair. + Who ut was, an’ what ut was, an’ how ut got there, we do not know; but I + know in my bones that you an’ me an’ Jock wid his sprained thumb will get + a fortune thereby. Lave me alone, an’ let me think.’ + </p> + <p> + Meantime the palanquin stayed in my stall, the key of which was in + Mulvaney’s hands. + </p> + <p> + Pay-day came, and with it beer. It was not in experience to hope that + Mulvaney, dried by four weeks’ drought, would avoid excess. Next morning + he and the palanquin had disappeared. He had taken the precaution of + getting three days’ leave ‘to see a friend on the railway,’ and the + colonel, well knowing that the seasonal outburst was near, and hoping it + would spend its force beyond the limits of his jurisdiction, cheerfully + gave him all he demanded. At this point Mulvaney’s history, as recorded in + the mess-room, stopped. + </p> + <p> + Ortheris carried it not much further. ‘No, ‘e wasn’t drunk,’ said the + little man loyally, ‘the liquor was no more than feelin’ its way round + inside of ‘im; but ‘e went an’ filled that ‘ole bloomin’ palanquin with + bottles ‘fore ‘e went off. ‘E’s gone an’ ‘ired six men to carry ‘im, an’ I + ‘ad to ‘elp ‘im into ‘is nupshal couch, ‘cause ‘e wouldn’t ‘ear reason. + ‘E’s gone off in ‘is shirt an’ trousies, swearin’ tremenjus—gone + down the road in the palanquin, wavin’ ‘is legs out o’ windy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘but where?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now you arx me a question. ‘E said ‘e was goin’ to sell that palanquin, + but from observations what happened when I was stuffin’ ‘im through the + door, I fancy ‘e’s gone to the new embankment to mock at Dearsley. ‘Soon + as Jock’s off duty I’m goin’ there to see if ‘e’s safe—not Mulvaney, + but t’other man. My saints, but I pity ‘im as ‘elps Terence out o’ the + palanquin when ‘e’s once fair drunk!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He’ll come back without harm,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘’Corse ‘e will. On’y question is, what ‘ll ‘e be doin’ on the road? + Killing Dearsley, like as not. ‘E shouldn’t ‘a gone without Jock or me.’ + </p> + <p> + Reinforced by Learoyd, Ortheris sought the foreman of the coolie-gang. + Dearsley’s head was still embellished with towels. Mulvaney, drunk or + sober, would have struck no man in that condition, and Dearsley + indignantly denied that he would have taken advantage of the intoxicated + brave. + </p> + <p> + ‘I had my pick o’ you two,’ he explained to Learoyd, ‘and you got my + palanquin—not before I’d made my profit on it. Why’d I do harm when + everything’s settled? Your man DID come here—drunk as Davy’s sow on + a frosty night—came a-purpose to mock me—stuck his head out of + the door an’ called me a crucified hodman. I made him drunker, an’ sent + him along. But I never touched him.’ + </p> + <p> + To these things, Learoyd, slow to perceive the evidences of sincerity, + answered only, ‘If owt comes to Mulvaaney ‘long o’ you, I’ll gripple you, + clouts or no clouts on your ugly head, an’ I’ll draw t’ throat twistyways, + man. See there now.’ + </p> + <p> + The embassy removed itself, and Dearsley, the battered, laughed alone over + his supper that evening. + </p> + <p> + Three days passed—a fourth and a fifth. The week drew to a close and + Mulvaney did not return. He, his royal palanquin, and his six attendants, + had vanished into air. A very large and very tipsy soldier, his feet + sticking out of the litter of a reigning princess, is not a thing to + travel along the ways without comment. Yet no man of all the country round + had seen any such wonder. He was, and he was not; and Learoyd suggested + the immediate smashment of Dearsley as a sacrifice to his ghost. Ortheris + insisted that all was well, and in the light of past experience his hopes + seemed reasonable. + </p> + <p> + ‘When Mulvaney goes up the road,’ said he, ‘’e’s like to go a very long + ways up, specially when ‘e’s so blue drunk as ‘e is now. But what gits me + is ‘is not bein’ ‘eard of pullin’ wool off the niggers somewheres about. + That don’t look good. The drink must ha’ died out in ‘im by this, unless + ‘e’s broke a bank, an’ then—Why don’t ‘e come back? ‘E didn’t ought + to ha’ gone off without us.’ + </p> + <p> + Even Ortheris’s heart sank at the end of the seventh day, for half the + regiment were out scouring the country-side, and Learoyd had been forced + to fight two men who hinted openly that Mulvaney had deserted. To do him + justice, the colonel laughed at the notion, even when it was put forward + by his much-trusted adjutant. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mulvaney would as soon think of deserting as you would,’ said he. ‘No; + he’s either fallen into a mischief among the villagers—and yet that + isn’t likely, for he’d blarney himself out of the Pit; or else he is + engaged on urgent private affairs—some stupendous devilment that we + shall hear of at mess after it has been the round of the barrack-rooms. + The worst of it is that I shall have to give him twenty-eight days’ + confinement at least for being absent without leave, just when I most want + him to lick the new batch of recruits into shape. I never knew a man who + could put a polish on young soldiers as quickly as Mulvaney can. How does + he do it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With blarney and the buckle-end of a belt, sir,’ said the adjutant. ‘He + is worth a couple of non-commissioned officers when we are dealing with an + Irish draft, and the London lads seem to adore him. The worst of it is + that if he goes to the cells the other two are neither to hold nor to bind + till he comes out again. I believe Ortheris preaches mutiny on those + occasions, and I know that the mere presence of Learoyd mourning for + Mulvaney kills all the cheerfulness of his room. The sergeants tell me + that he allows no man to laugh when he feels unhappy. They are a queer + gang.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For all that, I wish we had a few more of them. I like a well-conducted + regiment, but these pasty-faced, shifty-eyed, mealy-mouthed young + slouchers from the depot worry me sometimes with their offensive virtue. + They don’t seem to have backbone enough to do anything but play cards and + prowl round the married quarters. I believe I’d forgive that old villain + on the spot if he turned up with any sort of explanation that I could in + decency accept.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not likely to be much difficulty about that, sir,’ said the adjutant. + ‘Mulvaney’s explanations are only one degree less wonderful than his + performances. They say that when he was in the Black Tyrone, before he + came to us, he was discovered on the banks of the Liffey trying to sell + his colonel’s charger to a Donegal dealer as a perfect lady’s hack. + Shackbolt commanded the Tyrone then.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Shackbolt must have had apoplexy at the thought of his ramping war-horses + answering to that description. He used to buy unbacked devils, and tame + them on some pet theory of starvation. What did Mulvaney say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That he was a member of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to + Animals, anxious to “sell the poor baste where he would get something to + fill out his dimples.” Shackbolt laughed, but I fancy that was why + Mulvaney exchanged to ours.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish he were back,’ said the colonel; ‘for I like him and believe he + likes me.’ + </p> + <p> + That evening, to cheer our souls, Learoyd, Ortheris, and I went into the + waste to smoke out a porcupine. All the dogs attended, but even their + clamour—and they began to discuss the shortcomings of porcupines + before they left cantonments—could not take us out of ourselves. A + large, low moon turned the tops of the plume-grass to silver, and the + stunted camelthorn bushes and sour tamarisks into the likenesses of + trooping devils. The smell of the sun had not left the earth, and little + aimless winds blowing across the rose-gardens to the southward brought the + scent of dried roses and water. Our fire once started, and the dogs + craftily disposed to wait the dash of the porcupine, we climbed to the top + of a rain-scarred hillock of earth, and looked across the scrub seamed + with cattle paths, white with the long grass, and dotted with spots of + level pond-bottom, where the snipe would gather in winter. + </p> + <p> + ‘This,’ said Ortheris, with a sigh, as he took in the unkempt desolation + of it all, ‘this is sanguinary. This is unusually sanguinary. Sort o’ mad + country. Like a grate when the fire’s put out by the sun.’ He shaded his + eyes against the moonlight. ‘An’ there’s a loony dancin’ in the middle of + it all. Quite right. I’d dance too if I wasn’t so downheart.’ + </p> + <p> + There pranced a Portent in the face of the moon—a huge and ragged + spirit of the waste, that flapped its wings from afar. It had risen out of + the earth; it was coming towards us, and its outline was never twice the + same. The toga, table-cloth, or dressing-gown, whatever the creature wore, + took a hundred shapes. Once it stopped on a neighbouring mound and flung + all its legs and arms to the winds. + </p> + <p> + ‘My, but that scarecrow ‘as got ‘em bad!’ said Ortheris. ‘Seems like if ‘e + comes any furder we’ll ‘ave to argify with ‘im.’ + </p> + <p> + Learoyd raised himself from the dirt as a bull clears his flanks of the + wallow. And as a bull bellows, so he, after a short minute at gaze, gave + tongue to the stars. + </p> + <p> + ‘MULVAANEY! MULVAANEY! A-hoo!’ + </p> + <p> + Oh then it was that we yelled, and the figure dipped into the hollow, + till, with a crash of rending grass, the lost one strode up to the light + of the fire and disappeared to the waist in a wave of joyous dogs! Then + Learoyd and Ortheris gave greeting, bass and falsetto together, both + swallowing a lump in the throat. + </p> + <p> + ‘You damned fool!’ said they, and severally pounded him with their fists. + </p> + <p> + ‘Go easy!’ he answered; wrapping a huge arm round each. ‘I would have you + to know that I am a god, to be treated as such—tho’, by my faith, I + fancy I’ve got to go to the guard-room just like a privit soldier.’ + </p> + <p> + The latter part of the sentence destroyed the suspicions raised by the + former. Any one would have been justified in regarding Mulvaney as mad. He + was hatless and shoeless, and his shirt and trousers were dropping off + him. But he wore one wondrous garment—a gigantic cloak that fell + from collar-bone to heel—of pale pink silk, wrought all over in + cunningest needlework of hands long since dead, with the loves of the + Hindu gods. The monstrous figures leaped in and out of the light of the + fire as he settled the folds round him. + </p> + <p> + Ortheris handled the stuff respectfully for a moment while I was trying to + remember where I had seen it before. Then he screamed, ‘What ‘AVE you done + with the palanquin? You’re wearin’ the linin’.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am,’ said the Irishman, ‘an’ by the same token the ‘broidery is + scrapin’ my hide off. I’ve lived in this sumpshus counterpane for four + days. Me son, I begin to ondherstand why the naygur is no use. Widout me + boots, an’ me trousies like an openwork stocking on a gyurl’s leg at a + dance, I begin to feel like a naygur-man—all fearful an’ timoreous. + Give me a pipe an’ I’ll tell on.’ + </p> + <p> + He lit a pipe, resumed his grip of his two friends, and rocked to and fro + in a gale of laughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mulvaney,’ said Ortheris sternly, ‘’tain’t no time for laughin’. You’ve + given Jock an’ me more trouble than you’re worth. You ‘ave been absent + without leave an’ you’ll go into cells for that; an’ you ‘ave come back + disgustin’ly dressed an’ most improper in the linin’ o’ that bloomin’ + palanquin. Instid of which you laugh. An’ WE thought you was dead all the + time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bhoys,’ said the culprit, still shaking gently, ‘whin I’ve done my tale + you may cry if you like, an’ little Orth’ris here can thrample my inside + out. Ha’ done an’ listen. My performances have been stupenjus: my luck has + been the blessed luck av the British Army—an’ there’s no betther + than that. I went out dhrunk an’ dhrinkin’ in the palanquin, and I have + come back a pink god. Did any of you go to Dearsley afther my time was up? + He was at the bottom of ut all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah said so,’ murmured Learoyd. ‘To-morrow ah’ll smash t’ face in upon his + heead.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ye will not. Dearsley’s a jool av a man. Afther Ortheris had put me into + the palanquin an’ the six bearer-men were gruntin’ down the road, I tuk + thought to mock Dearsley for that fight. So I tould thim, “Go to the + embankmint,” and there, bein’ most amazin’ full, I shtuck my head out av + the concern an’ passed compliments wid Dearsley. I must ha’ miscalled him + outrageous, for whin I am that way the power av the tongue comes on me. I + can bare remimber tellin’ him that his mouth opened endways like the mouth + av a skate, which was thrue afther Learoyd had handled ut; an’ I clear + remimber his takin’ no manner nor matter av offence, but givin’ me a big + dhrink of beer. ‘Twas the beer did the thrick, for I crawled back into the + palanquin, steppin’ on me right ear wid me left foot, an’ thin I slept + like the dead. Wanst I half-roused, an’ begad the noise in my head was + tremenjus—roarin’ and rattlin’ an’ poundin’ such as was quite new to + me. “Mother av Mercy,” thinks I, “phwat a concertina I will have on my + shoulders whin I wake!” An’ wid that I curls mysilf up to sleep before ut + should get hould on me. Bhoys, that noise was not dhrink, ‘twas the rattle + av a thrain!’ + </p> + <p> + There followed an impressive pause. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, he had put me on a thrain—put me, palanquin an’ all, an’ six + black assassins av his own coolies that was in his nefarious confidence, + on the flat av a ballast-thruck, and we were rowlin’ an’ bowlin’ along to + Benares. Glory be that I did not wake up thin an’ introjuce mysilf to the + coolies. As I was sayin’, I slept for the betther part av a day an’ a + night. But remimber you, that that man Dearsley had packed me off on wan + av his material-thrains to Benares, all for to make me overstay my leave + an’ get me into the cells.’ + </p> + <p> + The explanation was an eminently rational one. Benares lay at least ten + hours by rail from the cantonments, and nothing in the world could have + saved Mulvaney from arrest as a deserter had he appeared there in the + apparel of his orgies. Dearsley had not forgotten to take revenge. + Learoyd, drawing back a little, began to place soft blows over selected + portions of Mulvaney’s body. His thoughts were away on the embankment, and + they meditated evil for Dearsley. Mulvaney continued— + </p> + <p> + ‘Whin I was full awake the palanquin was set down in a street, I + suspicioned, for I cud hear people passin’ an’ talkin’. But I knew well I + was far from home. There is a queer smell upon our cantonments—a + smell av dried earth and brick-kilns wid whiffs av cavalry stable-litter. + This place smelt marigold flowers an’ bad water, an’ wanst somethin’ alive + came an’ blew heavy with his muzzle at the chink av the shutter. “It’s in + a village I am,” thinks I to mysilf, “an’ the parochial buffalo is + investigatin’ the palanquin.” But anyways I had no desire to move. Only + lie still whin you’re in foreign parts an’ the standin’ luck av the + British Army will carry ye through. That is an epigram. I made ut. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thin a lot av whishperin’ divils surrounded the palanquin. “Take ut up,” + sez wan man. “But who’ll pay us?” sez another. “The Maharanee’s minister, + av coorse,” sez the man. “Oho!” sez I to mysilf, “I’m a quane in me own + right, wid a minister to pay me expenses. I’ll be an emperor if I lie + still long enough; but this is no village I’ve found.” I lay quiet, but I + gummed me right eye to a crack av the shutters, an’ I saw that the whole + street was crammed wid palanquins an’ horses, an’ a sprinklin’ av naked + priests all yellow powder an’ tigers’ tails. But I may tell you, Orth’ris, + an’ you, Learoyd, that av all the palanquins ours was the most imperial + an’ magnificent. Now a palanquin means a native lady all the world over, + except whin a soldier av the Quane happens to be takin’ a ride. “Women an’ + priests!” sez I. “Your father’s son is in the right pew this time, + Terence. There will be proceedin’s.” Six black divils in pink muslin tuk + up the palanquin, an’ oh! but the rowlin’ an’ the rockin’ made me sick. + Thin we got fair jammed among the palanquins—not more than fifty av + them—an’ we grated an’ bumped like Queenstown potato-smacks in a + runnin’ tide. I cud hear the women gigglin’ and squirkin’ in their + palanquins, but mine was the royal equipage. They made way for ut, an’, + begad, the pink muslin men o’ mine were howlin’, “Room for the Maharanee + av Gokral-Seetarun.” Do you know aught av the lady, sorr?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said I. ‘She is a very estimable old queen of the Central Indian + States, and they say she is fat. How on earth could she go to Benares + without all the city knowing her palanquin?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘’Twas the eternal foolishness av the naygur-man. They saw the palanquin + lying loneful an’ forlornsome, an’ the beauty av ut, after Dearsley’s men + had dhropped ut and gone away, an’ they gave ut the best name that + occurred to thim. Quite right too. For aught we know the ould lady was + thravellin’ incog—like me. I’m glad to hear she’s fat. I was no + light weight mysilf, an’ my men were mortial anxious to dhrop me under a + great big archway promiscuously ornamented wid the most improper carvin’s + an’ cuttin’s I iver saw. Begad! they made me blush—like a—like + a Maharanee.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The temple of Prithi-Devi,’ I murmured, remembering the monstrous horrors + of that sculptured archway at Benares. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pretty Devilskins, savin’ your presence, sorr! There was nothin’ pretty + about ut, except me. ‘Twas all half dhark, an’ whin the coolies left they + shut a big black gate behind av us, an’ half a company av fat yellow + priests began pully-haulin’ the palanquins into a dharker place yet—a + big stone hall full av pillars, an’ gods, an’ incense, an’ all manner av + similar thruck. The gate disconcerted me, for I perceived I wud have to go + forward to get out, my retreat bein’ cut off. By the same token a good + priest makes a bad palanquin-coolie. Begad! they nearly turned me inside + out draggin’ the palanquin to the temple. Now the disposishin av the + forces inside was this way. The Maharanee av Gokral-Seetarun—that + was me—lay by the favour av Providence on the far left flank behind + the dhark av a pillar carved with elephints’ heads. The remainder av the + palanquins was in a big half circle facing in to the biggest, fattest, an’ + most amazin’ she-god that iver I dreamed av. Her head ran up into the + black above us, an’ her feet stuck out in the light av a little fire av + melted butter that a priest was feedin’ out av a butter-dish. Thin a man + began to sing an’ play on somethin’ back in the dhark, an ‘twas a queer + song. Ut made my hair lift on the back av my neck. Thin the doors av all + the palanquins slid back, an’ the women bundled out. I saw what I’ll niver + see again. ‘Twas more glorious than thransformations at a pantomime, for + they was in pink an’ blue an’ silver an’ red an’ grass green, wid di’monds + an’ im’ralds an’ great red rubies all over thim. But that was the least + part av the glory. O bhoys, they were more lovely than the like av any + loveliness in hiven; ay, their little bare feet were betther than the + white hands av a lord’s lady, an’ their mouths were like puckered roses, + an’ their eyes were bigger an’ dharker than the eyes av any livin’ women + I’ve seen. Ye may laugh, but I’m speakin’ truth. I niver saw the like, an’ + niver I will again.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Seeing that in all probability you were watching the wives and daughters + of most of the Kings of India, the chances are that you won’t,’ I said, + for it was dawning on me that Mulvaney had stumbled upon a big Queens’ + Praying at Benares. + </p> + <p> + ‘I niver will,’ he said mournfully. ‘That sight doesn’t come twist to any + man. It made me ashamed to watch. A fat priest knocked at my door. I + didn’t think he’d have the insolince to disturb the Maharanee av + Gokral-Seetarun, so I lay still. “The old cow’s asleep,” sez he to + another. “Let her be,” sez that. “‘Twill be long before she has a calf!” I + might ha’ known before he spoke that all a woman prays for in Injia—an’ + for matter o’ that in England too—is childher. That made me more + sorry I’d come, me bein’, as you well know, a childless man.’ + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment, thinking of his little son, dead many years + ago. + </p> + <p> + ‘They prayed, an’ the butter-fires blazed up an’ the incense turned + everything blue, an’ between that an’ the fires the women looked as tho’ + they were all ablaze an’ twinklin’. They took hold av the she-god’s knees, + they cried out an’ they threw themselves about, an’ that + world-without-end-amen music was dhrivin’ thim mad. Mother av Hiven! how + they cried, an’ the ould she-god grinnin’ above thim all so scornful! The + dhrink was dyin’ out in me fast, an’ I was thinkin’ harder than the + thoughts wud go through my head—thinkin’ how to get out, an’ all + manner of nonsense as well. The women were rockin’ in rows, their di’mond + belts clickin’, an’ the tears runnin’ out betune their hands, an’ the + lights were goin’ lower an’ dharker. Thin there was a blaze like lightnin’ + from the roof, an’ that showed me the inside av the palanquin, an’ at the + end where my foot was, stood the livin’ spit an’ image o’ mysilf worked on + the linin’. This man here, ut was.’ + </p> + <p> + He hunted in the folds of his pink cloak, ran a hand under one, and thrust + into the firelight a foot-long embroidered presentment of the great god + Krishna, playing on a flute. The heavy jowl, the staring eye, and the + blue-black moustache of the god made up a far-off resemblance to Mulvaney. + </p> + <p> + ‘The blaze was gone in a wink, but the whole schame came to me thin. I + believe I was mad too. I slid the off-shutter open an’ rowled out into the + dhark behind the elephint-head pillar, tucked up my trousies to my knees, + slipped off my boots an’ tuk a general hould av all the pink linin’ av the + palanquin. Glory be, ut ripped out like a woman’s dhriss whin you tread on + ut at a sergeants’ ball, an’ a bottle came with ut. I tuk the bottle an’ + the next minut I was out av the dhark av the pillar, the pink linin’ + wrapped round me most graceful, the music thunderin’ like kettledrums, an’ + a could draft blowin’ round my bare legs. By this hand that did ut, I was + Khrishna tootlin’ on the flute—the god that the rig’mental chaplain + talks about. A sweet sight I must ha’ looked. I knew my eyes were big, and + my face was wax-white, an’ at the worst I must ha’ looked like a ghost. + But they took me for the livin’ god. The music stopped, and the women were + dead dumb an’ I crooked my legs like a shepherd on a china basin, an’ I + did the ghost-waggle with my feet as I had done ut at the rig’mental + theatre many times, an’ I slid acrost the width av that temple in front av + the she-god tootlin’ on the beer bottle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wot did you toot?’ demanded Ortheris the practical. + </p> + <p> + ‘Me? Oh!’ Mulvaney sprang up, suiting the action to the word, and sliding + gravely in front of us, a dilapidated but imposing deity in the half + light. ‘I sang— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Only say + You’ll be Mrs. Brallaghan. + Don’t say nay, + Charmin’ Judy Callaghan. +</pre> + <p> + I didn’t know me own voice when I sang. An’ oh! ‘twas pitiful to see the + women. The darlin’s were down on their faces. Whin I passed the last wan I + cud see her poor little fingers workin’ one in another as if she wanted to + touch my feet. So I dhrew the tail av this pink overcoat over her head for + the greater honour, an’ I slid into the dhark on the other side av the + temple, and fetched up in the arms av a big fat priest. All I wanted was + to get away clear. So I tuk him by his greasy throat an’ shut the speech + out av him. “Out!” sez I. “Which way, ye fat heathen?”—“Oh!” sez he. + “Man,” sez I. “White man, soldier man, common soldier man. Where in the + name av confusion is the back door?” The women in the temple were still on + their faces, an’ a young priest was holdin’ out his arms above their + heads. + </p> + <p> + ‘“This way,” sez my fat friend, duckin’ behind a big bull-god an’ divin’ + into a passage. Thin I remimbered that I must ha’ made the miraculous + reputation av that temple for the next fifty years. “Not so fast,” I sez, + an’ I held out both my hands wid a wink. That ould thief smiled like a + father. I tuk him by the back av the neck in case he should be wishful to + put a knife into me unbeknownst, an’ I ran him up an’ down the passage + twice to collect his sensibilities! “Be quiet,” sez he, in English. “Now + you talk sense,” I sez. “Fwhat ‘ll you give me for the use av that most + iligant palanquin I have no time to take away?”—“Don’t tell,” sez + he. “Is ut like?” sez I. “But ye might give me my railway fare. I’m far + from my home an’ I’ve done you a service.” Bhoys, ‘tis a good thing to be + a priest. The ould man niver throubled himself to dhraw from a bank. As I + will prove to you subsequint, he philandered all round the slack av his + clothes an’ began dribblin’ ten-rupee notes, old gold mohurs, and rupees + into my hand till I could hould no more.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You lie!’ said Ortheris. ‘You’re mad or sunstrook. A native don’t give + coin unless you cut it out o’ ‘im. ‘Tain’t nature.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then my lie an’ my sunstroke is concealed under that lump av sod yonder,’ + retorted Mulvaney unruffled, nodding across the scrub. ‘An’ there’s a dale + more in nature than your squidgy little legs have iver taken you to, + Orth’ris, me son. Four hundred an’ thirty-four rupees by my reckonin’, AN’ + a big fat gold necklace that I took from him as a remimbrancer, was our + share in that business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘An’ ‘e give it you for love?’ said Ortheris. + </p> + <p> + ‘We were alone in that passage. Maybe I was a trifle too pressin’, but + considher fwhat I had done for the good av the temple and the iverlastin’ + joy av those women. ‘Twas cheap at the price. I wud ha’ taken more if I + cud ha’ found ut. I turned the ould man upside down at the last, but he + was milked dhry. Thin he opened a door in another passage an’ I found + mysilf up to my knees in Benares river-water, an’ bad smellin’ ut is. More + by token I had come out on the river-line close to the burnin’ ghat and + contagious to a cracklin’ corpse. This was in the heart av the night, for + I had been four hours in the temple. There was a crowd av boats tied up, + so I tuk wan an’ wint across the river. Thin I came home acrost country, + lyin’ up by day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How on earth did you manage?’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘How did Sir Frederick Roberts get from Cabul to Candahar? He marched an’ + he niver tould how near he was to breakin’ down. That’s why he is fwhat he + is. An’ now—’ Mulvaney yawned portentously. ‘Now I will go an’ give + myself up for absince widout leave. It’s eight an’ twenty days an’ the + rough end of the colonel’s tongue in orderly room, any way you look at ut. + But ‘tis cheap at the price.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mulvaney,’ said I softly. ‘If there happens to be any sort of excuse that + the colonel can in any way accept, I have a notion that you’ll get nothing + more than the dressing-gown. The new recruits are in, and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not a word more, sorr. Is ut excuses the old man wants? ‘Tis not my way, + but he shall have thim. I’ll tell him I was engaged in financial + operations connected wid a church,’ and he flapped his way to cantonments + and the cells, singing lustily— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘So they sent a corp’ril’s file, + And they put me in the gyard-room + For conduck unbecomin’ of a soldier.’ +</pre> + <p> + And when he was lost in the midst of the moonlight we could hear the + refrain— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bang upon the big drum, bash upon the cymbals, + As we go marchin’ along, boys, oh! + For although in this campaign + There’s no whisky nor champagne, + We’ll keep our spirits goin’ with a song, boys!’ +</pre> + <p> + Therewith he surrendered himself to the joyful and almost weeping guard, + and was made much of by his fellows. But to the colonel he said that he + had been smitten with sunstroke and had lain insensible on a villager’s + cot for untold hours; and between laughter and goodwill the affair was + smoothed over, so that he could, next day, teach the new recruits how to + ‘Fear God, Honour the Queen, Shoot Straight, and Keep Clean.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What did the colonel’s lady think? + Nobody never knew. + Somebody asked the sergeant’s wife + An’ she told ‘em true. + When you git to a man in the case + They’re like a row o’ pins, + For the colonel’s lady an’ Judy O’Grady + Are sisters under their skins. + BARRACK-ROOM BALLAD. +</pre> + <p> + Al day I had followed at the heels of a pursuing army engaged on one of + the finest battles that ever camp of exercise beheld. Thirty thousand + troops had by the wisdom of the Government of India been turned loose over + a few thousand square miles of country to practise in peace what they + would never attempt in war. Consequently cavalry charged unshaken infantry + at the trot. Infantry captured artillery by frontal attacks delivered in + line of quarter columns, and mounted infantry skirmished up to the wheels + of an armoured train which carried nothing more deadly than a twenty-five + pounder Armstrong, two Nordenfeldts, and a few score volunteers all cased + in three-eighths-inch boiler-plate. Yet it was a very lifelike camp. + Operations did not cease at sundown; nobody knew the country and nobody + spared man or horse. There was unending cavalry scouting and almost + unending forced work over broken ground. The Army of the South had finally + pierced the centre of the Army of the North, and was pouring through the + gap hot-foot to capture a city of strategic importance. Its front extended + fanwise, the sticks being represented by regiments strung out along the + line of route backwards to the divisional transport columns and all the + lumber that trails behind an army on the move. On its right the broken + left of the Army of the North was flying in mass, chased by the Southern + horse and hammered by the Southern guns till these had been pushed far + beyond the limits of their last support. Then the flying sat down to rest, + while the elated commandant of the pursuing force telegraphed that he held + all in check and observation. + </p> + <p> + Unluckily he did not observe that three miles to his right flank a flying + column of Northern horse with a detachment of Ghoorkhas and British troops + had been pushed round, as fast as the failing light allowed, to cut across + the entire rear of the Southern Army, to break, as it were, all the ribs + of the fan where they converged by striking at the transport, reserve + ammunition, and artillery supplies. Their instructions were to go in, + avoiding the few scouts who might not have been drawn off by the pursuit, + and create sufficient excitement to impress the Southern Army with the + wisdom of guarding their own flank and rear before they captured cities. + It was a pretty manoeuvre, neatly carried out. + </p> + <p> + Speaking for the second division of the Southern Army, our first + intimation of the attack was at twilight, when the artillery were + labouring in deep sand, most of the escort were trying to help them out, + and the main body of the infantry had gone on. A Noah’s Ark of elephants, + camels, and the mixed menagerie of an Indian transport-train bubbled and + squealed behind the guns when there appeared from nowhere in particular + British infantry to the extent of three companies, who sprang to the heads + of the gun-horses and brought all to a standstill amid oaths and cheers. + </p> + <p> + ‘How’s that, umpire?’ said the major commanding the attack, and with one + voice the drivers and limber gunners answered ‘Hout!’ while the colonel of + artillery sputtered. + </p> + <p> + ‘All your scouts are charging our main body,’ said the major. ‘Your flanks + are unprotected for two miles. I think we’ve broken the back of this + division. And listen,—there go the Ghoorkhas!’ + </p> + <p> + A weak fire broke from the rear-guard more than a mile away, and was + answered by cheerful howlings. The Ghoorkhas, who should have swung clear + of the second division, had stepped on its tail in the dark, but drawing + off hastened to reach the next line of attack, which lay almost parallel + to us five or six miles away. + </p> + <p> + Our column swayed and surged irresolutely,—three batteries, the + divisional ammunition reserve, the baggage, and a section of the hospital + and bearer corps. The commandant ruefully promised to report himself ‘cut + up’ to the nearest umpire, and commending his cavalry and all other + cavalry to the special care of Eblis, toiled on to resume touch with the + rest of the division. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ll bivouac here to-night,’ said the major, ‘I have a notion that the + Ghoorkhas will get caught. They may want us to re-form on. Stand easy till + the transport gets away.’ + </p> + <p> + A hand caught my beast’s bridle and led him out of the choking dust; a + larger hand deftly canted me out of the saddle; and two of the hugest + hands in the world received me sliding. Pleasant is the lot of the special + correspondent who falls into such hands as those of Privates Mulvaney, + Ortheris, and Learoyd. + </p> + <p> + ‘An’ that’s all right,’ said the Irishman calmly. ‘We thought we’d find + you somewheres here by. Is there anything av yours in the transport? + Orth’ris ‘ll fetch ut out.’ + </p> + <p> + Ortheris did ‘fetch ut out,’ from under the trunk of an elephant, in the + shape of a servant and an animal both laden with medical comforts. The + little man’s eyes sparkled. + </p> + <p> + ‘If the brutil an’ licentious soldiery av these parts gets sight av the + thruck,’ said Mulvaney, making practised investigations, ‘they’ll loot + ev’rything. They’re bein’ fed on iron-filin’s an’ dog-biscuit these days, + but glory’s no compensation for a belly-ache. Praise be, we’re here to + protect you, sorr. Beer, sausage, bread (soft an’ that’s a cur’osity), + soup in a tin, whisky by the smell av ut, an’ fowls! Mother av Moses, but + ye take the field like a confectioner! ‘Tis scand’lus.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ere’s a orficer,’ said Ortheris significantly. ‘When the sergent’s done + lushin’ the privit may clean the pot.’ + </p> + <p> + I bundled several things into Mulvaney’s haversack before the major’s hand + fell on my shoulder and he said tenderly, ‘Requisitioned for the Queen’s + service. Wolseley was quite wrong about special correspondents: they are + the soldier’s best friends. Come and take pot-luck with us to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + And so it happened amid laughter and shoutings that my well-considered + commissariat melted away to reappear later at the mess-table, which was a + waterproof sheet spread on the ground. The flying column had taken three + days’ rations with it, and there be few things nastier than government + rations—especially when government is experimenting with German + toys. Erbsenwurst, tinned beef of surpassing tinniness, compressed + vegetables, and meat-biscuits may be nourishing, but what Thomas Atkins + needs is bulk in his inside. The major, assisted by his brother officers, + purchased goats for the camp and so made the experiment of no effect. Long + before the fatigue-party sent to collect brushwood had returned, the men + were settled down by their valises, kettles and pots had appeared from the + surrounding country and were dangling over fires as the kid and the + compressed vegetable bubbled together; there rose a cheerful clinking of + mess-tins; outrageous demands for ‘a little more stuffin’ with that there + liver-wing;’ and gust on gust of chaff as pointed as a bayonet and as + delicate as a gun-butt. + </p> + <p> + ‘The boys are in a good temper,’ said the major. ‘They’ll be singing + presently. Well, a night like this is enough to keep them happy.’ + </p> + <p> + Over our heads burned the wonderful Indian stars, which are not all + pricked in on one plane, but, preserving an orderly perspective, draw the + eye through the velvet darkness of the void up to the barred doors of + heaven itself. The earth was a gray shadow more unreal than the sky. We + could hear her breathing lightly in the pauses between the howling of the + jackals, the movement of the wind in the tamarisks, and the fitful mutter + of musketry-fire leagues away to the left. A native woman from some unseen + hut began to sing, the mail-train thundered past on its way to Delhi, and + a roosting crow cawed drowsily. Then there was a belt-loosening silence + about the fires, and the even breathing of the crowded earth took up the + story. + </p> + <p> + The men, full fed, turned to tobacco and song,—their officers with + them. The subaltern is happy who can win the approval of the musical + critics in his regiment, and is honoured among the more intricate + step-dancers. By him, as by him who plays cricket cleverly, Thomas Atkins + will stand in time of need, when he will let a better officer go on alone. + The ruined tombs of forgotten Mussulman saints heard the ballad of Agra + Town, The Buffalo Battery, Marching to Kabul, The long, long Indian Day, + The Place where the Punkah-coolie died, and that crashing chorus which + announces, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Youth’s daring spirit, manhood’s fire, + Firm hand and eagle eye, + Must he acquire who would aspire + To see the gray boar die. +</pre> + <p> + To-day, of all those jovial thieves who appropriated my commissariat and + lay and laughed round that water-proof sheet, not one remains. They went + to camps that were not of exercise and battles without umpires. Burmah, + the Soudan, and the frontier,—fever and fight,—took them in + their time. + </p> + <p> + I drifted across to the men’s fires in search of Mulvaney, whom I found + strategically greasing his feet by the blaze. There is nothing + particularly lovely in the sight of a private thus engaged after a long + day’s march, but when you reflect on the exact proportion of the ‘might, + majesty, dominion, and power’ of the British Empire which stands on those + feet you take an interest in the proceedings. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s a blister, bad luck to ut, on the heel,’ said Mulvaney. ‘I can’t + touch ut. Prick ut out, little man.’ + </p> + <p> + Ortheris took out his house-wife, eased the trouble with a needle, stabbed + Mulvaney in the calf with the same weapon, and was swiftly kicked into the + fire. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve bruk the best av my toes over you, ye grinnin’ child av disruption,’ + said Mulvaney, sitting cross-legged and nursing his feet; then seeing me, + ‘Oh, ut’s you, sorr! Be welkim, an’ take that maraudin’ scutt’s place. + Jock, hold him down on the cindhers for a bit.’ + </p> + <p> + But Ortheris escaped and went elsewhere, as I took possession of the + hollow he had scraped for himself and lined with his greatcoat. Learoyd on + the other side of the fire grinned affably and in a minute fell fast + asleep. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s the height av politeness for you,’ said Mulvaney, lighting his + pipe with a flaming branch. ‘But Jock’s eaten half a box av your sardines + at wan gulp, an’ I think the tin too. What’s the best wid you, sorr, an’ + how did you happen to be on the losin’ side this day whin we captured + you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Army of the South is winning all along the line,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then that line’s the hangman’s rope, savin’ your presence. You’ll learn + to-morrow how we rethreated to dhraw thim on before we made thim trouble, + an’ that’s what a woman does. By the same tokin, we’ll be attacked before + the dawnin’ an’ ut would be betther not to slip your boots. How do I know + that? By the light av pure reason. Here are three companies av us ever so + far inside av the enemy’s flank an’ a crowd av roarin’, tarin’, squealin’ + cavalry gone on just to turn out the whole hornet’s nest av them. Av + course the enemy will pursue, by brigades like as not, an’ thin we’ll have + to run for ut. Mark my words. I am av the opinion av Polonius whin he + said, “Don’t fight wid ivry scutt for the pure joy av fightin’, but if you + do, knock the nose av him first an’ frequint.” We ought to ha’ gone on an’ + helped the Ghoorkhas.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what do you know about Polonius?’ I demanded. This was a new side of + Mulvaney’s character. + </p> + <p> + ‘All that Shakespeare iver wrote an’ a dale more that the gallery + shouted,’ said the man of war, carefully lacing his boots. ‘Did I not tell + you av Silver’s theatre in Dublin, whin I was younger than I am now an’ a + patron av the drama? Ould Silver wud never pay actor-man or woman their + just dues, an’ by consequince his comp’nies was collapsible at the last + minut. Thin the bhoys wud clamour to take a part, an’ oft as not ould + Silver made them pay for the fun. Faith, I’ve seen Hamlut played wid a new + black eye an’ the queen as full as a cornucopia. I remimber wanst Hogin + that ‘listed in the Black Tyrone an’ was shot in South Africa, he sejuced + ould Silver into givin’ him Hamlut’s part instid av me that had a fine + fancy for rhetoric in those days. Av course I wint into the gallery an’ + began to fill the pit wid other people’s hats, an’ I passed the time av + day to Hogin walkin’ through Denmark like a hamstrung mule wid a pall on + his back. “Hamlut,” sez I, “there’s a hole in your heel. Pull up your + shtockin’s, Hamlut,” sez I, “Hamlut, Hamlut, for the love av decincy dhrop + that skull an’ pull up your shtockin’s.” The whole house begun to tell him + that. He stopped his soliloquishms mid-between. “My shtockin’s may be + comin’ down or they may not,” sez he, screwin’ his eye into the gallery, + for well he knew who I was. “But afther this performince is over me an’ + the Ghost ‘ll trample the tripes out av you, Terence, wid your ass’s + bray!” An’ that’s how I come to know about Hamlut. Eyah! Those days, those + days! Did you iver have onendin’ devilmint an’ nothin’ to pay for it in + your life, sorr?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never, without having to pay,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s thrue! ‘Tis mane whin you considher on ut; but ut’s the same wid + horse or fut. A headache if you dhrink, an’ a belly-ache if you eat too + much, an’ a heart-ache to kape all down. Faith, the beast only gets the + colic, an’ he’s the lucky man.’ + </p> + <p> + He dropped his head and stared into the fire, fingering his moustache the + while. From the far side of the bivouac the voice of Corbet-Nolan, senior + subaltern of B company, uplifted itself in an ancient and much appreciated + song of sentiment, the men moaning melodiously behind him. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The north wind blew coldly, she drooped from that hour, + My own little Kathleen, my sweet little Kathleen, + Kathleen, my Kathleen, Kathleen O’Moore! +</pre> + <p> + With forty-five O’s in the last word: even at that distance you might have + cut the soft South Irish accent with a shovel. + </p> + <p> + ‘For all we take we must pay, but the price is cruel high,’ murmured + Mulvaney when the chorus had ceased. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the trouble?’ I said gently, for I knew that he was a man of an + inextinguishable sorrow. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hear now,’ said he. ‘Ye know what I am now. <i>I</i> know what I mint to + be at the beginnin’ av my service. I’ve tould you time an’ again, an’ what + I have not Dinah Shadd has. An’ what am I? Oh, Mary Mother av Hiven, an + ould dhrunken, untrustable baste av a privit that has seen the reg’ment + change out from colonel to drummer-boy, not wanst or twice, but scores av + times! Ay, scores! An’ me not so near gettin’ promotion as in the first! + An’ me livin’ on an’ kapin’ clear av clink, not by my own good conduck, + but the kindness av some orf’cer-bhoy young enough to be son to me! Do I + not know ut? Can I not tell whin I’m passed over at p’rade, tho’ I’m + rockin’ full av liquor an’ ready to fall all in wan piece, such as even a + suckin’ child might see, bekaze, “Oh, ‘tis only ould Mulvaney!” An’ whin + I’m let off in ord’ly-room through some thrick of the tongue an’ a ready + answer an’ the ould man’s mercy, is ut smilin’ I feel whin I fall away an’ + go back to Dinah Shadd, thryin’ to carry ut all off as a joke? Not I! ‘Tis + hell to me, dumb hell through ut all; an’ next time whin the fit comes I + will be as bad again. Good cause the reg’ment has to know me for the best + soldier in ut. Better cause have I to know mesilf for the worst man. I’m + only fit to tache the new drafts what I’ll niver learn mesilf; an’ I am + sure, as tho’ I heard ut, that the minut wan av these pink-eyed recruities + gets away from my “Mind ye now,” an’ “Listen to this, Jim, bhoy,”—sure + I am that the sergint houlds me up to him for a warnin’. So I tache, as + they say at musketry-instruction, by direct and ricochet fire. Lord be + good to me, for I have stud some throuble!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lie down and go to sleep,’ said I, not being able to comfort or advise. + ‘You’re the best man in the regiment, and, next to Ortheris, the biggest + fool. Lie down and wait till we’re attacked. What force will they turn + out? Guns, think you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Try that wid your lorrds an’ ladies, twistin’ an’ turnin’ the talk, tho’ + you mint ut well. Ye cud say nothin’ to help me, an’ yet ye niver knew + what cause I had to be what I am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Begin at the beginning and go on to the end,’ I said royally. ‘But rake + up the fire a bit first.’ + </p> + <p> + I passed Ortheris’s bayonet for a poker. + </p> + <p> + ‘That shows how little we know what we do,’ said Mulvaney, putting it + aside. ‘Fire takes all the heart out av the steel, an’ the next time, may + be, that our little man is fighting for his life his bradawl ‘ll break, + an’ so you’ll ha’ killed him, manin’ no more than to kape yourself warm. + ‘Tis a recruity’s thrick that. Pass the clanin’-rod, sorr.’ + </p> + <p> + I snuggled down abased; and after an interval the voice of Mulvaney began. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did I iver tell you how Dinah Shadd came to be wife av mine?’ + </p> + <p> + I dissembled a burning anxiety that I had felt for some months—ever + since Dinah Shadd, the strong, the patient, and the infinitely tender, had + of her own good love and free will washed a shirt for me, moving in a + barren land where washing was not. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t remember,’ I said casually. ‘Was it before or after you made love + to Annie Bragin, and got no satisfaction?’ + </p> + <p> + The story of Annie Bragin is written in another place. It is one of the + many less respectable episodes in Mulvaney’s chequered career. + </p> + <p> + ‘Before—before—long before, was that business av Annie Bragin + an’ the corp’ril’s ghost. Niver woman was the worse for me whin I had + married Dinah. There’s a time for all things, an’ I know how to kape all + things in place—barrin’ the dhrink, that kapes me in my place wid no + hope av comin’ to be aught else.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Begin at the beginning,’ I insisted. ‘Mrs. Mulvaney told me that you + married her when you were quartered in Krab Bokhar barracks.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘An’ the same is a cess-pit,’ said Mulvaney piously. ‘She spoke thrue, did + Dinah. ‘Twas this way. Talkin’ av that, have ye iver fallen in love, + sorr?’ + </p> + <p> + I preserved the silence of the damned. Mulvaney continued— + </p> + <p> + ‘Thin I will assume that ye have not. <i>I</i> did. In the days av my + youth, as I have more than wanst tould you, I was a man that filled the + eye an’ delighted the sowl av women. Niver man was hated as I have bin. + Niver man was loved as I—no, not within half a day’s march av ut! + For the first five years av my service, whin I was what I wud give my sowl + to be now, I tuk whatever was within my reach an’ digested ut—an + that’s more than most men can say. Dhrink I tuk, an’ ut did me no harm. By + the Hollow av Hiven, I cud play wid four women at wanst, an’ kape them + from findin’ out anythin’ about the other three, an’ smile like a + full-blown marigold through ut all. Dick Coulhan, av the battery we’ll + have down on us to-night, could drive his team no betther than I mine, an’ + I hild the worser cattle! An’ so I lived, an’ so I was happy till afther + that business wid Annie Bragin—she that turned me off as cool as a + meat-safe, an’ taught me where I stud in the mind av an honest woman. + ‘Twas no sweet dose to swallow. + </p> + <p> + ‘Afther that I sickened awhile an’ tuk thought to my reg’mental work; + conceiting mesilf I wud study an’ be a sergint, an’ a major-gineral twinty + minutes afther that. But on top av my ambitiousness there was an empty + place in my sowl, an’ me own opinion av mesilf cud not fill ut. Sez I to + mesilf, “Terence, you’re a great man an’ the best set-up in the reg’mint. + Go on an’ get promotion.” Sez mesilf to me, “What for?” Sez I to mesilf, + “For the glory av ut!” Sez mesilf to me, “Will that fill these two strong + arrums av yours, Terence?” “Go to the devil,” sez I to mesilf. “Go to the + married lines,” sez mesilf to me. “‘Tis the same thing,” sez I to mesilf. + “Av you’re the same man, ut is,” said mesilf to me; an’ wid that I + considhered on ut a long while. Did you iver feel that way, sorr?’ + </p> + <p> + I snored gently, knowing that if Mulvaney were uninterrupted he would go + on. The clamour from the bivouac fires beat up to the stars, as the rival + singers of the companies were pitted against each other. + </p> + <p> + ‘So I felt that way an’ a bad time ut was. Wanst, bein’ a fool, I wint + into the married lines more for the sake av spakin’ to our ould + colour-sergint Shadd than for any thruck wid women-folk. I was a corp’ril + then—rejuced aftherwards, but a corp’ril then. I’ve got a photograft + av mesilf to prove ut. “You’ll take a cup av tay wid us?” sez Shadd. “I + will that,” I sez, “tho’ tay is not my divarsion.” + </p> + <p> + ‘“‘Twud be better for you if ut were,” sez ould Mother Shadd, an’ she had + ought to know, for Shadd, in the ind av his service, dhrank bung-full each + night. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wid that I tuk off my gloves—there was pipe-clay in thim, so that + they stud alone—an’ pulled up my chair, lookin’ round at the china + ornaments an’ bits av things in the Shadds’ quarters. They were things + that belonged to a man, an’ no camp-kit, here to-day an’ dishipated next. + “You’re comfortable in this place, sergint,” sez I. “‘Tis the wife that + did ut, boy,” sez he, pointin’ the stem av his pipe to ould Mother Shadd, + an’ she smacked the top av his bald head apon the compliment. “That manes + you want money,” sez she. + </p> + <p> + ‘An’ thin—an’ thin whin the kettle was to be filled, Dinah came in—my + Dinah—her sleeves rowled up to the elbow an’ her hair in a winkin’ + glory over her forehead, the big blue eyes beneath twinklin’ like stars on + a frosty night, an’ the tread av her two feet lighter than waste-paper + from the colonel’s basket in ord’ly-room whin ut’s emptied. Bein’ but a + shlip av a girl she went pink at seein’ me, an’ I twisted me moustache an’ + looked at a picture forninst the wall. Niver show a woman that ye care the + snap av a finger for her, an’ begad she’ll come bleatin’ to your + boot-heels!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose that’s why you followed Annie Bragin till everybody in the + married quarters laughed at you,’ said I, remembering that unhallowed + wooing and casting off the disguise of drowsiness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m layin’ down the gin’ral theory av the attack,’ said Mulvaney, driving + his boot into the dying fire. ‘If you read the Soldier’s Pocket Book, + which niver any soldier reads, you’ll see that there are exceptions. Whin + Dinah was out av the door (an’ ‘twas as tho’ the sunlight had shut too)—“Mother + av Hiven, sergint,” sez I, “but is that your daughter?”—“I’ve + believed that way these eighteen years,” sez ould Shadd, his eyes + twinklin’; “but Mrs. Shadd has her own opinion, like iv’ry woman,”—“‘Tis + wid yours this time, for a mericle,” sez Mother Shadd. “Thin why in the + name av fortune did I niver see her before?” sez I. “Bekaze you’ve been + thrapesin’ round wid the married women these three years past. She was a + bit av a child till last year, an’ she shot up wid the spring,” sez ould + Mother Shadd. “I’ll thrapese no more,” sez I. “D’you mane that?” sez ould + Mother Shadd, lookin’ at me side-ways like a hen looks at a hawk whin the + chickens are runnin’ free. “Try me, an’ tell,” sez I. Wid that I pulled on + my gloves, dhrank off the tay, an’ went out av the house as stiff as at + gin’ral p’rade, for well I knew that Dinah Shadd’s eyes were in the small + av my back out av the scullery window. Faith! that was the only time I + mourned I was not a cav’lry-man for the pride av the spurs to jingle. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wint out to think, an’ I did a powerful lot av thinkin’, but ut all + came round to that shlip av a girl in the dotted blue dhress, wid the blue + eyes an’ the sparkil in them. Thin I kept off canteen, an’ I kept to the + married quarthers, or near by, on the chanst av meetin’ Dinah. Did I meet + her? Oh, my time past, did I not; wid a lump in my throat as big as my + valise an’ my heart goin’ like a farrier’s forge on a Saturday morning? + ‘Twas “Good day to ye, Miss Dinah,” an’ “Good day t’you, corp’ril,” for a + week or two, and divil a bit further could I get bekaze av the respect I + had to that girl that I cud ha’ broken betune finger an’ thumb.’ + </p> + <p> + Here I giggled as I recalled the gigantic figure of Dinah Shadd when she + handed me my shirt. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ye may laugh,’ grunted Mulvaney. ‘But I’m speakin’ the trut’, an ‘tis you + that are in fault. Dinah was a girl that wud ha’ taken the imperiousness + out av the Duchess av Clonmel in those days. Flower hand, foot av shod + air, an’ the eyes av the livin’ mornin’ she had that is my wife to-day—ould + Dinah, and niver aught else than Dinah Shadd to me. + </p> + <p> + ‘’Twas after three weeks standin’ off an’ on, an’ niver makin’ headway + excipt through the eyes, that a little drummer-boy grinned in me face whin + I had admonished him wid the buckle av my belt for riotin’ all over the + place. “An’ I’m not the only wan that doesn’t kape to barricks,” sez he. I + tuk him by the scruff av his neck,—my heart was hung on a + hair-thrigger those days, you will onderstand—an’ “Out wid ut,” sez + I, “or I’ll lave no bone av you unbreakable.”—“Speak to Dempsey,” + sez he howlin’. “Dempsey which?” sez I, “ye unwashed limb av Satan.”—“Av + the Bob-tailed Dhragoons,” sez he. “He’s seen her home from her aunt’s + house in the civil lines four times this fortnight.”—“Child!” sez I, + dhroppin’ him, “your tongue’s stronger than your body. Go to your + quarters. I’m sorry I dhressed you down.” + </p> + <p> + ‘At that I went four ways to wanst huntin’ Dempsey. I was mad to think + that wid all my airs among women I shud ha’ been chated by a basin-faced + fool av a cav’lry-man not fit to trust on a trunk. Presintly I found him + in our lines—the Bobtails was quartered next us—an’ a tallowy, + topheavy son av a she-mule he was wid his big brass spurs an’ his + plastrons on his epigastrons an’ all. But he niver flinched a hair. + </p> + <p> + ‘“A word wid you, Dempsey,” sez I. “You’ve walked wid Dinah Shadd four + times this fortnight gone.” + </p> + <p> + ‘“What’s that to you?” sez he. “I’ll walk forty times more, an’ forty on + top av that, ye shovel-futted clod-breakin’ infantry lance-corp’ril.” + </p> + <p> + ‘Before I cud gyard he had his gloved fist home on my cheek an’ down I + went full-sprawl. “Will that content you?” sez he, blowin’ on his knuckles + for all the world like a Scots Greys orf’cer. “Content!” sez I. “For your + own sake, man, take off your spurs, peel your jackut, an’ onglove. ‘Tis + the beginnin’ av the overture; stand up!” + </p> + <p> + ‘He stud all he know, but he niver peeled his jackut, an’ his shoulders + had no fair play. I was fightin’ for Dinah Shadd an’ that cut on my cheek. + What hope had he forninst me? “Stand up,” sez I, time an’ again whin he + was beginnin’ to quarter the ground an’ gyard high an’ go large. “This + isn’t ridin’-school,” I sez. “O man, stand up an’ let me get in at ye.” + But whin I saw he wud be runnin’ about, I grup his shtock in my left an’ + his waist-belt in my right an’ swung him clear to my right front, head + undher, he hammerin’ my nose till the wind was knocked out av him on the + bare ground. “Stand up,” sez I, “or I’ll kick your head into your chest!” + and I wud ha’ done ut too, so ragin’ mad I was. + </p> + <p> + ‘“My collar-bone’s bruk,” sez he. “Help me back to lines. I’ll walk wid + her no more.” So I helped him back.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And was his collar-bone broken?’ I asked, for I fancied that only Learoyd + could neatly accomplish that terrible throw. + </p> + <p> + ‘He pitched on his left shoulder-point. Ut was. Next day the news was in + both barricks, an’ whin I met Dinah Shadd wid a cheek on me like all the + reg’mintal tailor’s samples there was no “Good mornin’, corp’ril,” or + aught else. “An’ what have I done, Miss Shadd,” sez I, very bould, + plantin’ mesilf forninst her, “that ye should not pass the time of day?” + </p> + <p> + ‘“Ye’ve half-killed rough-rider Dempsey,” sez she, her dear blue eyes + fillin’ up. + </p> + <p> + ‘“May be,” sez I. “Was he a friend av yours that saw ye home four times in + the fortnight?” + </p> + <p> + ‘“Yes,” sez she, but her mouth was down at the corners. “An’—an’ + what’s that to you?” she sez. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Ask Dempsey,” sez I, purtendin’ to go away. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Did you fight for me then, ye silly man?” she sez, tho’ she knew ut all + along. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Who else?” sez I, an’ I tuk wan pace to the front. + </p> + <p> + ‘“I wasn’t worth ut,” sez she, fingerin’ in her apron, + </p> + <p> + ‘“That’s for me to say,” sez I. “Shall I say ut?” + </p> + <p> + ‘“Yes,” sez she in a saint’s whisper, an’ at that I explained mesilf; and + she tould me what ivry man that is a man, an’ many that is a woman, hears + wanst in his life. + </p> + <p> + ‘“But what made ye cry at startin’, Dinah, darlin’?’” sez I. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Your—your bloody cheek,” sez she, duckin’ her little head down on + my sash (I was on duty for the day) an’ whimperin’ like a sorrowful angil. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now a man cud take that two ways. I tuk ut as pleased me best an’ my + first kiss wid ut. Mother av Innocence! but I kissed her on the tip av the + nose an’ undher the eye; an’ a girl that let’s a kiss come tumble-ways + like that has never been kissed before. Take note av that, sorr. Thin we + wint hand in hand to ould Mother Shadd like two little childher, an’ she + said ‘twas no bad thing, an’ ould Shadd nodded behind his pipe, an’ Dinah + ran away to her own room. That day I throd on rollin’ clouds. All earth + was too small to hould me. Begad, I cud ha’ hiked the sun out av the sky + for a live coal to my pipe, so magnificent I was. But I tuk recruities at + squad-drill instid, an’ began wid general battalion advance whin I shud + ha’ been balance-steppin’ them. Eyah! that day! that day!’ + </p> + <p> + A very long pause. ‘Well?’ said I. + </p> + <p> + ‘’Twas all wrong,’ said Mulvaney, with an enormous sigh. ‘An’ I know that + ev’ry bit av ut was my own foolishness. That night I tuk maybe the half av + three pints—not enough to turn the hair of a man in his natural + senses. But I was more than half drunk wid pure joy, an’ that canteen beer + was so much whisky to me. I can’t tell how it came about, but BEKAZE I had + no thought for anywan except Dinah, BEKAZE I hadn’t slipped her little + white arms from my neck five minuts, BEKAZE the breath of her kiss was not + gone from my mouth, I must go through the married lines on my way to + quarters an’ I must stay talkin’ to a red-headed Mullingar heifer av a + girl, Judy Sheehy, that was daughter to Mother Sheehy, the wife of Nick + Sheehy, the canteen-sergint—the Black Curse av Shielygh be on the + whole brood that are above groun’ this day! + </p> + <p> + “‘An’ what are ye houldin’ your head that high for, corp’ril?” sez Judy. + “Come in an’ thry a cup av tay,” she sez, standin’ in the doorway. Bein’ + an ontrustable fool, an’ thinkin’ av anything but tay, I wint. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Mother’s at canteen,” sez Judy, smoothin’ the hair av hers that was like + red snakes, an’ lookin’ at me cornerways out av her green cats’ eyes. “Ye + will not mind, corp’ril?” + </p> + <p> + ‘“I can endure,” sez I; ould Mother Sheehy bein’ no divarsion av mine, nor + her daughter too. Judy fetched the tea things an’ put thim on the table, + leanin’ over me very close to get thim square. I dhrew back, thinkin’ av + Dinah. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Is ut afraid you are av a girl alone?” sez Judy. + </p> + <p> + ‘“No,” sez I. “Why should I be?” + </p> + <p> + ‘“That rests wid the girl,” sez Judy, dhrawin’ her chair next to mine. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Thin there let ut rest,” sez I; an’ thinkin’ I’d been a trifle onpolite, + I sez, “The tay’s not quite sweet enough for my taste. Put your little + finger in the cup, Judy. ‘Twill make ut necthar.” + </p> + <p> + ‘“What’s necthar?” sez she. + </p> + <p> + “‘Somethin’ very sweet,” sez I; an’ for the sinful life av me I cud not + help lookin’ at her out av the corner av my eye, as I was used to look at + a woman. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Go on wid ye, corp’ril,” sez she. “You’re a flirrt.” + </p> + <p> + ‘“On me sowl I’m not,” sez I. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Then you’re a cruel handsome man, an’ that’s worse,” sez she, heaving + big sighs an’ lookin’ crossways. + </p> + <p> + ‘“You know your own mind,” sez I. + </p> + <p> + ‘“‘Twud be better for me if I did not,” she sez. + </p> + <p> + ‘“There’s a dale to be said on both sides av that,” sez I, unthinkin’. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Say your own part av ut, then, Terence, darlin’,” sez she; “for begad + I’m thinkin’ I’ve said too much or too little for an honest girl,” an’ wid + that she put her arms round my neck an’ kissed me. + </p> + <p> + ‘“There’s no more to be said afther that,” sez I, kissin’ her back again—Oh + the mane scutt that I was, my head ringin’ wid Dinah Shadd! How does ut + come about, sorr, that when a man has put the comether on wan woman, he’s + sure bound to put it on another? ‘Tis the same thing at musketry. Wan day + ivry shot goes wide or into the bank, an’ the next, lay high lay low, + sight or snap, ye can’t get off the bull’s-eye for ten shots runnin’.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That only happens to a man who has had a good deal of experience. He does + it without thinking,’ I replied. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thankin’ you for the complimint, sorr, ut may be so. But I’m doubtful + whether you mint ut for a complimint. Hear now; I sat there wid Judy on my + knee tellin’ me all manner av nonsinse an’ only sayin’ “yes” an’ “no,” + when I’d much better ha’ kept tongue betune teeth. An’ that was not an + hour afther I had left Dinah! What I was thinkin’ av I cannot say. + Presintly, quiet as a cat, ould Mother Sheehy came in velvet-dhrunk. She + had her daughter’s red hair, but ‘twas bald in patches, an’ I cud see in + her wicked ould face, clear as lightnin’, what Judy wud be twenty years to + come. I was for jumpin’ up, but Judy niver moved. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Terence has promust, mother,” sez she, an’ the could sweat bruk out all + over me. Ould Mother Sheehy sat down of a heap an’ began playin’ wid the + cups. “Thin you’re a well-matched pair,” she sez very thick. “For he’s the + biggest rogue that iver spoiled the queen’s shoe-leather” an’— + </p> + <p> + ‘“I’m off, Judy,” sez I. “Ye should not talk nonsinse to your mother. Get + her to bed, girl.” + </p> + <p> + ‘“Nonsinse!” sez the ould woman, prickin’ up her ears like a cat an’ + grippin’ the table-edge. “‘Twill be the most nonsinsical nonsinse for you, + ye grinnin’ badger, if nonsinse ‘tis. Git clear, you. I’m goin’ to bed.” + </p> + <p> + ‘I ran out into the dhark, my head in a stew an’ my heart sick, but I had + sinse enough to see that I’d brought ut all on mysilf. “It’s this to pass + the time av day to a panjandhrum av hell-cats,” sez I. “What I’ve said, + an’ what I’ve not said do not matther. Judy an’ her dam will hould me for + a promust man, an’ Dinah will give me the go, an’ I desarve ut. I will go + an’ get dhrunk,” sez I, “an’ forget about ut, for ‘tis plain I’m not a + marrin’ man.” + </p> + <p> + ‘On my way to canteen I ran against Lascelles, colour-sergint that was av + E Comp’ny, a hard, hard man, wid a torment av a wife. “You’ve the head av + a drowned man on your shoulders,” sez he; “an’ you’re goin’ where you’ll + get a worse wan. Come back,” sez he. “Let me go,” sez I. “I’ve thrown my + luck over the wall wid my own hand!”—“Then that’s not the way to get + ut back again,” sez he. “Have out wid your throuble, ye fool-bhoy.” An’ I + tould him how the matther was. + </p> + <p> + ‘He sucked in his lower lip. “You’ve been thrapped,” sez he. “Ju Sheehy + wud be the betther for a man’s name to hers as soon as can. An’ we thought + ye’d put the comether on her,—that’s the natural vanity of the + baste, Terence, you’re a big born fool, but you’re not bad enough to marry + into that comp’ny. If you said anythin’, an’ for all your protestations + I’m sure ye did—or did not, which is worse,—eat ut all—lie + like the father of all lies, but come out av ut free av Judy. Do I not + know what ut is to marry a woman that was the very spit an’ image av Judy + whin she was young? I’m gettin’ old an’ I’ve larnt patience, but you, + Terence, you’d raise hand on Judy an’ kill her in a year. Never mind if + Dinah gives you the go, you’ve desarved ut; never mind if the whole + reg’mint laughs you all day. Get shut av Judy an’ her mother. They can’t + dhrag you to church, but if they do, they’ll dhrag you to hell. Go back to + your quarters and lie down,” sez he. Thin over his shoulder, “You MUST ha’ + done with thim.” + </p> + <p> + ‘Next day I wint to see Dinah, but there was no tucker in me as I walked. + I knew the throuble wud come soon enough widout any handlin’ av mine, an’ + I dreaded ut sore. + </p> + <p> + ‘I heard Judy callin’ me, but I hild straight on to the Shadds’ quarthers, + an’ Dinah wud ha’ kissed me but I put her back. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Whin all’s said, darlin’,” sez I, “you can give ut me if ye will, tho’ I + misdoubt ‘twill be so easy to come by then.” + </p> + <p> + ‘I had scarce begun to put the explanation into shape before Judy an’ her + mother came to the door. I think there was a verandah, but I’m forgettin’. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Will ye not step in?” sez Dinah, pretty and polite, though the Shadds + had no dealin’s with the Sheehys. Ould Mother Shadd looked up quick, an’ + she was the fust to see the throuble; for Dinah was her daughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘“I’m pressed for time to-day,” sez Judy as bould as brass; “an’ I’ve only + come for Terence,—my promust man. ‘Tis strange to find him here the + day afther the day.” + </p> + <p> + ‘Dinah looked at me as though I had hit her, an’ I answered straight. + </p> + <p> + ‘“There was some nonsinse last night at the Sheehys’ quarthers, an’ Judy’s + carryin’ on the joke, darlin’,” sez I. + </p> + <p> + ‘“At the Sheehys’ quarthers?” sez Dinah very slow, an’ Judy cut in wid: + “He was there from nine till ten, Dinah Shadd, an’ the betther half av + that time I was sittin’ on his knee, Dinah Shadd. Ye may look and ye may + look an’ ye may look me up an’ down, but ye won’t look away that Terence + is my promust man. Terence, darlin’, ‘tis time for us to be comin’ home.” + </p> + <p> + ‘Dinah Shadd niver said word to Judy. “Ye left me at half-past eight,” she + sez to me, “an I niver thought that ye’d leave me for Judy,—promises + or no promises. Go back wid her, you that have to be fetched by a girl! + I’m done with you,” sez she, and she ran into her own room, her mother + followin’. So I was alone wid those two women and at liberty to spake my + sentiments. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Judy Sheehy,” sez I, “if you made a fool av me betune the lights you + shall not do ut in the day. I niver promised you words or lines.” + </p> + <p> + ‘“You lie,” sez ould Mother Sheehy, “an’ may ut choke you where you + stand!” She was far gone in dhrink. + </p> + <p> + ‘“An’ tho’ ut choked me where I stud I’d not change,” sez I. “Go home, + Judy. I take shame for a decent girl like you dhraggin’ your mother out + bare-headed on this errand. Hear now, and have ut for an answer. I gave my + word to Dinah Shadd yesterday, an’, more blame to me, I was wid you last + night talkin’ nonsinse but nothin’ more. You’ve chosen to thry to hould me + on ut. I will not be held thereby for anythin’ in the world. Is that + enough?” + </p> + <p> + ‘Judy wint pink all over. “An’ I wish you joy av the perjury,” sez she, + duckin’ a curtsey. “You’ve lost a woman that would ha’ wore her hand to + the bone for your pleasure; an’ ‘deed, Terence, ye were not thrapped...” + Lascelles must ha’ spoken plain to her. “I am such as Dinah is—‘deed + I am! Ye’ve lost a fool av a girl that’ll niver look at you again, an’ + ye’ve lost what he niver had,—your common honesty. If you manage + your men as you manage your love-makin’, small wondher they call you the + worst corp’ril in the comp’ny. Come away, mother,” sez she. + </p> + <p> + ‘But divil a fut would the ould woman budge! “D’you hould by that?” sez + she, peerin’ up under her thick gray eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Ay, an’ wud,” sez I, “tho’ Dinah give me the go twinty times. I’ll have + no thruck with you or yours,” sez I. “Take your child away, ye shameless + woman.” + </p> + <p> + “‘An’ am I shameless?” sez she, bringin’ her hands up above her head. + “Thin what are you, ye lyin’, schamin’, weak-kneed, dhirty-souled son av a + sutler? Am <i>I</i> shameless? Who put the open shame on me an’ my child + that we shud go beggin’ through the lines in the broad daylight for the + broken word of a man? Double portion of my shame be on you, Terence + Mulvaney, that think yourself so strong! By Mary and the saints, by blood + and water an’ by ivry sorrow that came into the world since the beginnin’, + the black blight fall on you and yours, so that you may niver be free from + pain for another when ut’s not your own! May your heart bleed in your + breast drop by drop wid all your friends laughin’ at the bleedin’! Strong + you think yourself? May your strength be a curse to you to dhrive you into + the divil’s hands against your own will! Clear-eyed you are? May your eyes + see clear ivry step av the dark path you take till the hot cindhers av + hell put thim out! May the ragin’ dry thirst in my own ould bones go to + you that you shall niver pass bottle full nor glass empty. God preserve + the light av your onderstandin’ to you, my jewel av a bhoy, that ye may + niver forget what you mint to be an’ do, whin you’re wallowin’ in the + muck! May ye see the betther and follow the worse as long as there’s + breath in your body; an’ may ye die quick in a strange land, watchin’ your + death before ut takes you, an’ enable to stir hand or foot!” + </p> + <p> + ‘I heard a scufflin’ in the room behind, and thin Dinah Shadd’s hand + dhropped into mine like a rose-leaf into a muddy road. + </p> + <p> + ‘“The half av that I’ll take,” sez she, “an’ more too if I can. Go home, + ye silly talkin’ woman,—go home an’ confess.” + </p> + <p> + ‘“Come away! Come away!” sez Judy, pullin’ her mother by the shawl. “‘Twas + none av Terence’s fault. For the love av Mary stop the talkin’!” + </p> + <p> + “‘An’ you!” said ould Mother Sheehy, spinnin’ round forninst Dinah. “Will + ye take the half av that man’s load? Stand off from him, Dinah Shadd, + before he takes you down too—you that look to be a + quarther-master-sergeant’s wife in five years. You look too high, child. + You shall WASH for the quarther-master-sergeant, whin he plases to give + you the job out av charity; but a privit’s wife you shall be to the end, + an’ ivry sorrow of a privit’s wife you shall know and niver a joy but wan, + that shall go from you like the running tide from a rock. The pain av + bearin’ you shall know but niver the pleasure av giving the breast; an’ + you shall put away a man-child into the common ground wid niver a priest + to say a prayer over him, an’ on that man-child ye shall think ivry day av + your life. Think long, Dinah Shadd, for you’ll niver have another tho’ you + pray till your knees are bleedin’. The mothers av childher shall mock you + behind your back when you’re wringing over the wash-tub. You shall know + what ut is to help a dhrunken husband home an’ see him go to the + gyard-room. Will that plase you, Dinah Shadd, that won’t be seen talkin’ + to my daughter? You shall talk to worse than Judy before all’s over. The + sergints’ wives shall look down on you contemptuous, daughter av a + sergint, an’ you shall cover ut all up wid a smiling face when your + heart’s burstin’. Stand off av him, Dinah Shadd, for I’ve put the Black + Curse of Shielygh upon him an’ his own mouth shall make ut good.” + </p> + <p> + ‘She pitched forward on her head an’ began foamin’ at the mouth. Dinah + Shadd ran out wid water, an’ Judy dhragged the ould woman into the + verandah till she sat up. + </p> + <p> + ‘“I’m old an’ forlore,” she sez, thremblin’ an’ cryin’, “and ‘tis like I + say a dale more than I mane.” + </p> + <p> + ‘“When you’re able to walk,—go,” says ould Mother Shadd. “This house + has no place for the likes av you that have cursed my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + ‘“Eyah!” said the ould woman. “Hard words break no bones, an’ Dinah + Shadd’ll kape the love av her husband till my bones are green corn. Judy + darlin’, I misremember what I came here for. Can you lend us the bottom av + a taycup av tay, Mrs. Shadd?” + </p> + <p> + ‘But Judy dhragged her off cryin’ as tho’ her heart wud break. An’ Dinah + Shadd an’ I, in ten minutes we had forgot ut all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then why do you remember it now?’ said I. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is ut like I’d forget? Ivry word that wicked ould woman spoke fell thrue + in my life aftherwards, an’ I cud ha’ stud ut all—stud ut all—excipt + when my little Shadd was born. That was on the line av march three months + afther the regiment was taken with cholera. We were betune Umballa an’ + Kalka thin, an’ I was on picket. Whin I came off duty the women showed me + the child, an’ ut turned on uts side an’ died as I looked. We buried him + by the road, an’ Father Victor was a day’s march behind wid the heavy + baggage, so the comp’ny captain read a prayer. An’ since then I’ve been a + childless man, an’ all else that ould Mother Sheehy put upon me an’ Dinah + Shadd. What do you think, sorr?’ + </p> + <p> + I thought a good deal, but it seemed better then to reach out for + Mulvaney’s hand. The demonstration nearly cost me the use of three + fingers. Whatever he knows of his weaknesses, Mulvaney is entirely + ignorant of his strength. + </p> + <p> + ‘But what do you think?’ he repeated, as I was straightening out the + crushed fingers. + </p> + <p> + My reply was drowned in yells and outcries from the next fire, where ten + men were shouting for ‘Orth’ris,’ ‘Privit Orth’ris,’ ‘Mistah Or—ther—ris!’ + ‘Deah boy,’ ‘Cap’n Orth’ris,’ ‘Field-Marshal Orth’ris,’ ‘Stanley, you + pen’north o’ pop, come ‘ere to your own comp’ny!’ And the cockney, who had + been delighting another audience with recondite and Rabelaisian yarns, was + shot down among his admirers by the major force. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve crumpled my dress-shirt ‘orrid,’ said he, ‘an’ I shan’t sing no + more to this ‘ere bloomin’ drawin’-room.’ + </p> + <p> + Learoyd, roused by the confusion, uncoiled himself, crept behind Ortheris, + and slung him aloft on his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sing, ye bloomin’ hummin’ bird!’ said he, and Ortheris, beating time on + Learoyd’s skull, delivered himself, in the raucous voice of the Ratcliffe + Highway, of this song:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My girl she give me the go onst, + When I was a London lad, + An’ I went on the drink for a fortnight, + An’ then I went to the bad. + The Queen she give me a shillin’ + To fight for ‘er over the seas; + But Guv’ment built me a fever-trap, + An’ Injia give me disease. +</pre> + <p> + Chorus. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ho! don’t you ‘eed what a girl says, + An’ don’t you go for the beer; + But I was an ass when I was at grass, + An’ that is why I’m ‘ere. + + I fired a shot at a Afghan, + The beggar ‘e fired again, + An’ I lay on my bed with a ‘ole in my ‘ed; + An’ missed the next campaign! + I up with my gun at a Burman + Who carried a bloomin’ dah, + But the cartridge stuck and the bay’nit bruk, + An’ all I got was the scar. +</pre> + <p> + Chorus. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ho! don’t you aim at a Afghan + When you stand on the sky-line clear; + An’ don’t you go for a Burman + If none o’ your friends is near. + + I served my time for a corp’ral, + An’ wetted my stripes with pop, + For I went on the bend with a intimate friend, + An’ finished the night in the ‘shop.’ + I served my time for a sergeant; + The colonel ‘e sez ‘No! + The most you’ll see is a full C. B.’ +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Footnote: Confined to barracks.] + An’...very next night ‘twas so. +</pre> + <p> + Chorus. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ho! don’t you go for a corp’ral + Unless your ‘ed is clear; + But I was an ass when I was at grass, + An’ that is why I’m ‘ere. + + I’ve tasted the luck o’ the army + In barrack an’ camp an’ clink, + An’ I lost my tip through the bloomin’ trip + Along o’ the women an’ drink. + I’m down at the heel o’ my service + An’ when I am laid on the shelf, + My very wust friend from beginning to end + By the blood of a mouse was myself! +</pre> + <p> + Chorus. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ho! don’t you ‘eed what a girl says, + An’ don’t you go for the beer; + But I was an ass when I was at grass, + An’ that is why I’m ‘ere. +</pre> + <p> + ‘Ay, listen to our little man now, singin’ an’ shoutin’ as tho’ trouble + had niver touched him. D’you remember when he went mad with the + home-sickness?’ said Mulvaney, recalling a never-to-be-forgotten season + when Ortheris waded through the deep waters of affliction and behaved + abominably. ‘But he’s talkin’ bitter truth, though. Eyah! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘My very worst frind from beginnin’ to ind + By the blood av a mouse was mesilf!’ +</pre> + <p> + When I woke I saw Mulvaney, the night-dew gemming his moustache, leaning + on his rifle at picket, lonely as Prometheus on his rock, with I know not + what vultures tearing his liver. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ON GREENHOW HILL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To Love’s low voice she lent a careless ear; + Her hand within his rosy fingers lay, + A chilling weight. She would not turn or hear; + But with averted face went on her way. + But when pale Death, all featureless and grim, + Lifted his bony hand, and beckoning + Held out his cypress-wreath, she followed him, + And Love was left forlorn and wondering, + That she who for his bidding would not stay, + At Death’s first whisper rose and went away. + RIVALS. +</pre> + <p> + ‘Ohe, Ahmed Din! Shafiz Ullah ahoo! Bahadur Khan, where are you? Come out + of the tents, as I have done, and fight against the English. Don’t kill + your own kin! Come out to me!’ + </p> + <p> + The deserter from a native corps was crawling round the outskirts of the + camp, firing at intervals, and shouting invitations to his old comrades. + Misled by the rain and the darkness, he came to the English wing of the + camp, and with his yelping and rifle-practice disturbed the men. They had + been making roads all day, and were tired. + </p> + <p> + Ortheris was sleeping at Learoyd’s feet. ‘Wot’s all that?’ he said + thickly. Learoyd snored, and a Snider bullet ripped its way through the + tent wall. The men swore. ‘It’s that bloomin’ deserter from the + Aurangabadis,’ said Ortheris. ‘Git up, some one, an’ tell ‘im ‘e’s come to + the wrong shop.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go to sleep, little man,’ said Mulvaney, who was steaming nearest the + door. ‘I can’t arise an’ expaytiate with him. ‘Tis rainin’ entrenchin’ + tools outside.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘’Tain’t because you bloomin’ can’t. It’s ‘cause you bloomin’ won’t, ye + long, limp, lousy, lazy beggar, you. ‘Ark to’im ‘owlin’!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wot’s the good of argifying? Put a bullet into the swine! ‘E’s keepin’ us + awake!’ said another voice. + </p> + <p> + A subaltern shouted angrily, and a dripping sentry whined from the + darkness— + </p> + <p> + ‘’Tain’t no good, sir. I can’t see ‘im. ‘E’s ‘idin’ somewhere down ‘ill.’ + </p> + <p> + Ortheris tumbled out of his blanket. ‘Shall I try to get ‘im, sir?’ said + he. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ was the answer. ‘Lie down. I won’t have the whole camp shooting all + round the clock. Tell him to go and pot his friends.’ + </p> + <p> + Ortheris considered for a moment. Then, putting his head under the tent + wall, he called, as a ‘bus conductor calls in a block, ‘’Igher up, there! + ‘Igher up!’ + </p> + <p> + The men laughed, and the laughter was carried down wind to the deserter, + who, hearing that he had made a mistake, went off to worry his own + regiment half a mile away. He was received with shots; the Aurangabadis + were very angry with him for disgracing their colours. + </p> + <p> + ‘An’ that’s all right,’ said Ortheris, withdrawing his head as he heard + the hiccough of the Sniders in the distance. ‘S’elp me Gawd, tho’, that + man’s not fit to live—messin’ with my beauty-sleep this way.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go out and shoot him in the morning, then,’ said the subaltern + incautiously. ‘Silence in the tents now. Get your rest, men.’ + </p> + <p> + Ortheris lay down with a happy little sigh, and in two minutes there was + no sound except the rain on the canvas and the all-embracing and elemental + snoring of Learoyd. + </p> + <p> + The camp lay on a bare ridge of the Himalayas, and for a week had been + waiting for a flying column to make connection. The nightly rounds of the + deserter and his friends had become a nuisance. + </p> + <p> + In the morning the men dried themselves in hot sunshine and cleaned their + grimy accoutrements. The native regiment was to take its turn of + road-making that day while the Old Regiment loafed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m goin’ to lay for a shot at that man,’ said Ortheris, when he had + finished washing out his rifle. ‘’E comes up the watercourse every evenin’ + about five o’clock. If we go and lie out on the north ‘ill a bit this + afternoon we’ll get ‘im.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re a bloodthirsty little mosquito,’ said Mulvaney, blowing blue + clouds into the air. ‘But I suppose I will have to come wid you. Fwhere’s + Jock?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Gone out with the Mixed Pickles, ‘cause ‘e thinks ‘isself a bloomin’ + marksman,’ said Ortheris with scorn. + </p> + <p> + The ‘Mixed Pickles’ were a detachment of picked shots, generally employed + in clearing spurs of hills when the enemy were too impertinent. This + taught the young officers how to handle men, and did not do the enemy much + harm. Mulvaney and Ortheris strolled out of camp, and passed the + Aurangabadis going to their road-making. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve got to sweat to-day,’ said Ortheris genially. ‘We’re going to get + your man. You didn’t knock ‘im out last night by any chance, any of you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. The pig went away mocking us. I had one shot at him,’ said a private. + ‘He’s my cousin, and <i>I</i> ought to have cleared our dishonour. But + good luck to you.’ + </p> + <p> + They went cautiously to the north hill, Ortheris leading, because, as he + explained, ’this is a long-range show, an’ I’ve got to do it.’ His was an + almost passionate devotion to his rifle, which, by barrack-room report, he + was supposed to kiss every night before turning in. Charges and scuffles + he held in contempt, and, when they were inevitable, slipped between + Mulvaney and Learoyd, bidding them to fight for his skin as well as their + own. They never failed him. He trotted along, questing like a hound on a + broken trail, through the wood of the north hill. At last he was + satisfied, and threw himself down on the soft pine-needled slope that + commanded a clear view of the watercourse and a brown, bare hillside + beyond it. The trees made a scented darkness in which an army corps could + have hidden from the sun-glare without. + </p> + <p> + ‘’Ere’s the tail o’ the wood,’ said Ortheris. ‘’E’s got to come up the + watercourse, ‘cause it gives ‘im cover. We’ll lay ‘ere. ‘Tain’t not arf so + bloomin’ dusty neither.’ + </p> + <p> + He buried his nose in a clump of scentless white violets. No one had come + to tell the flowers that the season of their strength was long past, and + they had bloomed merrily in the twilight of the pines. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is something like,’ he said luxuriously. ‘Wot a ‘evinly clear drop + for a bullet acrost! How much d’you make it, Mulvaney?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Seven hunder. Maybe a trifle less, bekaze the air’s so thin.’ + </p> + <p> + WOP! WOP! WOP! went a volley of musketry on the rear face of the north + hill. + </p> + <p> + ‘Curse them Mixed Pickles firin’ at nothin’! They’ll scare arf the + country.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thry a sightin’ shot in the middle of the row,’ said Mulvaney, the man of + many wiles. ‘There’s a red rock yonder he’ll be sure to pass. Quick!’ + </p> + <p> + Ortheris ran his sight up to six hundred yards and fired. The bullet threw + up a feather of dust by a clump of gentians at the base of the rock. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good enough!’ said Ortheris, snapping the scale down. ‘You snick your + sights to mine or a little lower. You’re always firin’ high. But remember, + first shot to me. O Lordy! but it’s a lovely afternoon.’ + </p> + <p> + The noise of the firing grew louder, and there was a tramping of men in + the wood. The two lay very quiet, for they knew that the British soldier + is desperately prone to fire at anything that moves or calls. Then Learoyd + appeared, his tunic ripped across the breast by a bullet, looking ashamed + of himself. He flung down on the pine-needles, breathing in snorts. + </p> + <p> + ‘One o’ them damned gardeners o’ th’ Pickles,’ said he, fingering the + rent. ‘Firin’ to th’ right flank, when he knowed I was there. If I knew + who he was I’d ‘a’ rippen the hide offan him. Look at ma tunic!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the spishil trustability av a marksman. Train him to hit a fly wid + a stiddy rest at seven hunder, an’ he loose on anythin’ he sees or hears + up to th’ mile. You’re well out av that fancy-firin’ gang, Jock. Stay + here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bin firin’ at the bloomin’ wind in the bloomin’ tree-tops,’ said Ortheris + with a chuckle. ‘I’ll show you some firin’ later on.’ + </p> + <p> + They wallowed in the pine-needles, and the sun warmed them where they lay. + The Mixed Pickles ceased firing, and returned to camp, and left the wood + to a few scared apes. The watercourse lifted up its voice in the silence, + and talked foolishly to the rocks. Now and again the dull thump of a + blasting charge three miles away told that the Aurangabadis were in + difficulties with their road-making. The men smiled as they listened and + lay still, soaking in the warm leisure. Presently Learoyd, between the + whiffs of his pipe— + </p> + <p> + ‘Seems queer—about ‘im yonder—desertin’ at all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘’E’ll be a bloomin’ side queerer when I’ve done with ‘im,’ said Ortheris. + They were talking in whispers, for the stillness of the wood and the + desire of slaughter lay heavy upon them. + </p> + <p> + ‘I make no doubt he had his reasons for desertin’; but, my faith! I make + less doubt ivry man has good reason for killin’ him,’ said Mulvaney. + </p> + <p> + ‘Happen there was a lass tewed up wi’ it. Men do more than more for th’ + sake of a lass.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They make most av us ‘list. They’ve no manner av right to make us + desert.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah; they make us ‘list, or their fathers do,’ said Learoyd softly, his + helmet over his eyes. Ortheris’s brows contracted savagely. He was + watching the valley. ‘If it’s a girl I’ll shoot the beggar twice over, an’ + second time for bein’ a fool. You’re blasted sentimental all of a sudden. + Thinkin’ o’ your last near shave?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay, lad; ah was but thinkin’ o’ what had happened.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘An’ fwhat has happened, ye lumberin’ child av calamity, that you’re + lowing like a cow-calf at the back av the pasture, an’ suggestin’ + invidious excuses for the man Stanley’s goin’ to kill. Ye’ll have to wait + another hour yet, little man. Spit it out, Jock, an’ bellow melojus to the + moon. It takes an earthquake or a bullet graze to fetch aught out av you. + Discourse, Don Juan! The a-moors av Lotharius Learoyd! Stanley, kape a + rowlin’ rig’mental eye on the valley.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s along o’ yon hill there,’ said Learoyd, watching the bare + sub-Himalayan spur that reminded him of his Yorkshire moors. He was + speaking more to himself than his fellows. ‘Ay,’ said he, ‘Rumbolds Moor + stands up ower Skipton town, an’ Greenhow Hill stands up ower Pately Brig. + I reckon you’ve never heeard tell o’ Greenhow Hill, but you bit o’ bare + stuff if there was nobbut a white road windin’ is like ut; strangely like. + Moors an’ moors an’ moors, wi’ never a tree for shelter, an’ gray houses + wi’ flagstone rooves, and pewits cryin’, an’ a windhover goin’ to and fro + just like these kites. And cold! A wind that cuts you like a knife. You + could tell Greenhow Hill folk by the red-apple colour o’ their cheeks an’ + nose tips, and their blue eyes, driven into pinpoints by the wind. Miners + mostly, burrowin’ for lead i’ th’ hillsides, followin’ the trail of th’ + ore vein same as a field-rat. It was the roughest minin’ I ever seen. Yo’d + come on a bit o’ creakin’ wood windlass like a well-head, an’ you was let + down i’ th’ bight of a rope, fendin’ yoursen off the side wi’ one hand, + carryin’ a candle stuck in a lump o’ clay with t’other, an’ clickin’ hold + of a rope with t’other hand.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘An’ that’s three of them,’ said Mulvaney. ‘Must be a good climate in + those parts.’ + </p> + <p> + Learoyd took no heed. + </p> + <p> + ‘An’ then yo’ came to a level, where you crept on your hands and knees + through a mile o’ windin’ drift, an’ you come out into a cave-place as big + as Leeds Townhall, with a engine pumpin’ water from workin’s ‘at went + deeper still. It’s a queer country, let alone minin’, for the hill is full + of those natural caves, an’ the rivers an’ the becks drops into what they + call pot-holes, an’ come out again miles away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wot was you doin’ there?’ said Ortheris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was a young chap then, an’ mostly went wi’ ‘osses, leadin’ coal and + lead ore; but at th’ time I’m tellin’ on I was drivin’ the waggon-team i’ + th’ big sumph. I didn’t belong to that country-side by rights. I went + there because of a little difference at home, an’ at fust I took up wi’ a + rough lot. One night we’d been drinkin’, an’ I must ha’ hed more than I + could stand, or happen th’ ale was none so good. Though i’ them days, By + for God, I never seed bad ale.’ He flung his arms over his head, and + gripped a vast handful of white violets. ‘Nah,’ said he, ‘I never seed the + ale I could not drink, the bacca I could not smoke, nor the lass I could + not kiss. Well, we mun have a race home, the lot on us. I lost all th’ + others, an’ when I was climbin’ ower one of them walls built o’ loose + stones, I comes down into the ditch, stones and all, an’ broke my arm. Not + as I knawed much about it, for I fell on th’ back of my head, an’ was + knocked stupid like. An’ when I come to mysen it were mornin’, an’ I were + lyin’ on the settle i’ Jesse Roantree’s houseplace, an’ ‘Liza Roantree was + settin’ sewin’, I ached all ovver, and my mouth were like a lime-kiln. She + gave me a drink out of a china mug wi’ gold letters—“A Present from + Leeds”—as I looked at many and many a time at after. “Yo’re to lie + still while Dr. Warbottom comes, because your arm’s broken, and father has + sent a lad to fetch him. He found yo’ when he was goin’ to work, an’ + carried you here on his back,” sez she. “Oa!” sez I; an’ I shet my eyes, + for I felt ashamed o’ mysen. “Father’s gone to his work these three hours, + an’ he said he’d tell ‘em to get somebody to drive the tram.” The clock + ticked, an’ a bee comed in the house, an’ they rung i’ my head like + mill-wheels. An’ she give me another drink an’ settled the pillow. “Eh, + but yo’re young to be getten drunk an’ such like, but yo’ won’t do it + again, will yo’?”—“Noa,” sez I, “I wouldn’t if she’d not but stop + they mill-wheels clatterin’.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Faith, it’s a good thing to be nursed by a woman when you’re sick!’ said + Mulvaney. ‘Dir’ cheap at the price av twenty broken heads.’ + </p> + <p> + Ortheris turned to frown across the valley. He had not been nursed by many + women in his life. + </p> + <p> + ‘An’ then Dr. Warbottom comes ridin’ up, an’ Jesse Roantree along with + ‘im. He was a high-larned doctor, but he talked wi’ poor folk same as + theirsens. “What’s ta big agaate on naa?” he sings out. “Brekkin’ tha + thick head?” An’ he felt me all ovver. “That’s none broken. Tha’ nobbut + knocked a bit sillier than ordinary, an’ that’s daaft eneaf.” An’ soa he + went on, callin’ me all the names he could think on, but settin’ my arm, + wi’ Jesse’s help, as careful as could be. “Yo’ mun let the big oaf bide + here a bit, Jesse,” he says, when he hed strapped me up an’ given me a + dose o’ physic; “an’ you an’ Liza will tend him, though he’s scarcelins + worth the trouble. An’ tha’ll lose tha work,” sez he, “an’ tha’ll be upon + th’ Sick Club for a couple o’ months an’ more. Doesn’t tha think tha’s a + fool?”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But whin was a young man, high or low, the other av a fool, I’d like to + know?’ said Mulvaney. ‘Sure, folly’s the only safe way to wisdom, for I’ve + thried it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wisdom!’ grinned Ortheris, scanning his comrades with uplifted chin. + ‘You’re bloomin’ Solomons, you two, ain’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + Learoyd went calmly on, with a steady eye like an ox chewing the cud. + </p> + <p> + ‘And that was how I come to know ‘Liza Roantree. There’s some tunes as she + used to sing—aw, she were always singin’—that fetches Greenhow + Hill before my eyes as fair as yon brow across there. And she would learn + me to sing bass, an’ I was to go to th’ chapel wi’ ‘em where Jesse and she + led the singin’, th’ old man playin’ the fiddle. He was a strange chap, + old Jesse, fair mad wi’ music, an’ he made me promise to learn the big + fiddle when my arm was better. It belonged to him, and it stood up in a + big case alongside o’ th’ eight-day clock, but Willie Satterthwaite, as + played it in the chapel, had getten deaf as a door-post, and it vexed + Jesse, as he had to rap him ower his head wi’ th’ fiddle-stick to make him + give ower sawin’ at th’ right time. + </p> + <p> + ‘But there was a black drop in it all, an’ it was a man in a black coat + that brought it. When th’ Primitive Methodist preacher came to Greenhow, + he would always stop wi’ Jesse Roantree, an’ he laid hold of me from th’ + beginning. It seemed I wor a soul to be saved, and he meaned to do it. At + th’ same time I jealoused ‘at he were keen o’ savin’ ‘Liza Roantree’s soul + as well, and I could ha’ killed him many a time. An’ this went on till one + day I broke out, an’ borrowed th’ brass for a drink from ‘Liza. After + fower days I come back, wi’ my tail between my legs, just to see ‘Liza + again. But Jesse were at home an’ th’ preacher—th’ Reverend Amos + Barraclough. ‘Liza said naught, but a bit o’ red come into her face as + were white of a regular thing. Says Jesse, tryin’ his best to be civil, + “Nay, lad, it’s like this. You’ve getten to choose which way it’s goin’ to + be. I’ll ha’ nobody across ma doorstep as goes a-drinkin’, an’ borrows my + lass’s money to spend i’ their drink. Ho’d tha tongue, ‘Liza,” sez he, + when she wanted to put in a word ‘at I were welcome to th’ brass, and she + were none afraid that I wouldn’t pay it back. Then the Reverend cuts in, + seein’ as Jesse were losin’ his temper, an’ they fair beat me among them. + But it were ‘Liza, as looked an’ said naught, as did more than either o’ + their tongues, an’ soa I concluded to get converted.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fwhat?’ shouted Mulvaney. Then, checking himself, he said softly, ‘Let + be! Let be! Sure the Blessed Virgin is the mother of all religion an’ most + women; an’ there’s a dale av piety in a girl if the men would only let ut + stay there. I’d ha’ been converted myself under the circumstances.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay, but,’ pursued Learoyd with a blush, ‘I meaned it.’ + </p> + <p> + Ortheris laughed as loudly as he dared, having regard to his business at + the time. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay, Ortheris, you may laugh, but you didn’t know yon preacher Barraclough—a + little white-faced chap, wi’ a voice as ‘ud wile a bird off an a bush, and + a way o’ layin’ hold of folks as made them think they’d never had a live + man for a friend before. You never saw him, an’—an’—you never + seed ‘Liza Roantree—never seed ‘Liza Roantree.... Happen it was as + much ‘Liza as th’ preacher and her father, but anyways they all meaned it, + an’ I was fair shamed o’ mysen, an’ so I become what they call a changed + character. And when I think on, it’s hard to believe as yon chap going to + prayer-meetin’s, chapel, and class-meetin’s were me. But I never had + naught to say for mysen, though there was a deal o’ shoutin’, and old + Sammy Strother, as were almost clemmed to death and doubled up with the + rheumatics, would sing out, “Joyful! Joyful!” and ‘at it were better to go + up to heaven in a coal-basket than down to hell i’ a coach an’ six. And he + would put his poor old claw on my shoulder, sayin’, “Doesn’t tha feel it, + tha great lump? Doesn’t tha feel it?” An’ sometimes I thought I did, and + then again I thought I didn’t, an’ how was that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The iverlastin’ nature av mankind,’ said Mulvaney. ‘An’, furthermore, I + misdoubt you were built for the Primitive Methodians. They’re a new corps + anyways. I hold by the Ould Church, for she’s the mother of them all—ay, + an’ the father, too. I like her bekaze she’s most remarkable regimental in + her fittings. I may die in Honolulu, Nova Zambra, or Cape Cayenne, but + wherever I die, me bein’ fwhat I am, an’ a priest handy, I go under the + same orders an’ the same words an’ the same unction as tho’ the Pope + himself come down from the roof av St. Peter’s to see me off. There’s + neither high nor low, nor broad nor deep, nor betwixt nor between wid her, + an’ that’s what I like. But mark you, she’s no manner av Church for a wake + man, bekaze she takes the body and the soul av him, onless he has his + proper work to do. I remember when my father died that was three months + comin’ to his grave; begad he’d ha’ sold the shebeen above our heads for + ten minutes’ quittance of purgathory. An’ he did all he could. That’s why + I say ut takes a strong man to deal with the Ould Church, an’ for that + reason you’ll find so many women go there. An’ that same’s a conundrum.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wot’s the use o’ worritin’ ‘bout these things?’ said Ortheris. ‘You’re + bound to find all out quicker nor you want to, any’ow.’ He jerked the + cartridge out of the breech-block into the palm of his hand. ‘’Ere’s my + chaplain,’ he said, and made the venomous black-headed bullet bow like a + marionette. ‘’E’s goin’ to teach a man all about which is which, an’ wot’s + true, after all, before sundown. But wot ‘appened after that, Jock?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There was one thing they boggled at, and almost shut th’ gate i’ my face + for, and that were my dog Blast, th’ only one saved out o’ a litter o’ + pups as was blowed up when a keg o’ minin’ powder loosed off in th’ + store-keeper’s hut. They liked his name no better than his business, which + were fightin’ every dog he comed across; a rare good dog, wi’ spots o’ + black and pink on his face, one ear gone, and lame o’ one side wi’ being + driven in a basket through an iron roof, a matter of half a mile. + </p> + <p> + ‘They said I mun give him up ‘cause he were worldly and low; and would I + let mysen be shut out of heaven for the sake on a dog? “Nay,” says I, “if + th’ door isn’t wide enough for th’ pair on us, we’ll stop outside, for + we’ll none be parted.” And th’ preacher spoke up for Blast, as had a + likin’ for him from th’ first—I reckon that was why I come to like + th’ preacher—and wouldn’t hear o’ changin’ his name to Bless, as + some o’ them wanted. So th’ pair on us became reg’lar chapel-members. But + it’s hard for a young chap o’ my build to cut traces from the world, th’ + flesh, an’ the devil all uv a heap. Yet I stuck to it for a long time, + while th’ lads as used to stand about th’ town-end an’ lean ower th’ + bridge, spittin’ into th’ beck o’ a Sunday, would call after me, “Sitha, + Learoyd, when’s ta bean to preach, ‘cause we’re comin’ to hear tha.”—“Ho’d + tha jaw. He hasn’t getten th’ white choaker on ta morn,” another lad would + say, and I had to double my fists hard i’ th’ bottom of my Sunday coat, + and say to mysen, “If ‘twere Monday and I warn’t a member o’ the Primitive + Methodists, I’d leather all th’ lot of yond’.” That was th’ hardest of all—to + know that I could fight and I mustn’t fight.’ + </p> + <p> + Sympathetic grunts from Mulvaney. + </p> + <p> + ‘So what wi’ singin’, practising and class-meetin’s, and th’ big fiddle, + as he made me take between my knees, I spent a deal o’ time i’ Jesse + Roantree’s house-place. But often as I was there, th’ preacher fared to me + to go oftener, and both th’ old man an’ th’ young woman were pleased to + have him. He lived i’ Pately Brig, as were a goodish step off, but he + come. He come all the same. I liked him as well or better as any man I’d + ever seen i’ one way, and yet I hated him wi’ all my heart i’ t’other, and + we watched each other like cat and mouse, but civil as you please, for I + was on my best behaviour, and he was that fair and open that I was bound + to be fair with him. Rare good company he was, if I hadn’t wanted to wring + his cliver little neck half of the time. Often and often when he was goin’ + from Jesse’s I’d set him a bit on the road.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘See ‘im ‘ome, you mean?’ said Ortheris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay. It’s a way we have i’ Yorkshire o’ seein’ friends off. You was a + friend as I didn’t want to come back, and he didn’t want me to come back + neither, and so we’d walk together towards Pately, and then he’d set me + back again, and there we’d be wal two o’clock i’ the mornin’ settin’ each + other to an’ fro like a blasted pair o’ pendulums twixt hill and valley, + long after th’ light had gone out i’ ‘Liza’s window, as both on us had + been looking at, pretending to watch the moon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ broke in Mulvaney, ‘ye’d no chanst against the maraudin’ + psalm-singer. They’ll take the airs an’ the graces instid av the man nine + times out av ten, an’ they only find the blunder later—the wimmen.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s just where yo’re wrong,’ said Learoyd, reddening under the + freckled tan of his cheeks. ‘I was th’ first wi’ ‘Liza, an’ yo’d think + that were enough. But th’ parson were a steady-gaited sort o’ chap, and + Jesse were strong o’ his side, and all th’ women i’ the congregation + dinned it to ‘Liza ‘at she were fair fond to take up wi’ a wastrel + ne’er-do-weel like me, as was scarcelins respectable an’ a fighting dog at + his heels. It was all very well for her to be doing me good and saving my + soul, but she must mind as she didn’t do herself harm. They talk o’ rich + folk bein’ stuck up an’ genteel, but for cast-iron pride o’ respectability + there’s naught like poor chapel folk. It’s as cold as th’ wind o’ Greenhow + Hill—ay, and colder, for ‘twill never change. And now I come to + think on it, one at strangest things I know is ‘at they couldn’t abide th’ + thought o’ soldiering. There’s a vast o’ fightin’ i’ th’ Bible, and + there’s a deal of Methodists i’ th’ army; but to hear chapel folk talk + yo’d think that soldierin’ were next door, an’ t’other side, to hangin’. + I’ their meetin’s all their talk is o’ fightin’. When Sammy Strother were + stuck for summat to say in his prayers, he’d sing out, “Th’ sword o’ th’ + Lord and o’ Gideon.” They were allus at it about puttin’ on th’ whole + armour o’ righteousness, an’ fightin’ the good fight o’ faith. And then, + atop o’ ‘t all, they held a prayer-meetin’ ower a young chap as wanted to + ‘list, and nearly deafened him, till he picked up his hat and fair ran + away. And they’d tell tales in th’ Sunday-school o’ bad lads as had been + thumped and brayed for bird-nesting o’ Sundays and playin’ truant o’ + week-days, and how they took to wrestlin’, dog-fightin’, rabbit-runnin’, + and drinkin’, till at last, as if ‘twere a hepitaph on a gravestone, they + damned him across th’ moors wi’, “an’ then he went and ‘listed for a + soldier,” an’ they’d all fetch a deep breath, and throw up their eyes like + a hen drinkin’.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fwhy is ut?’ said Mulvaney, bringing down his hand on his thigh with a + crack.’ In the name av God, fwhy is ut? I’ve seen ut, tu. They cheat an’ + they swindle an’ they lie an’ they slander, an’ fifty things fifty times + worse; but the last an’ the worst by their reckonin’ is to serve the Widdy + honest. It’s like the talk av childher—seein’ things all round.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Plucky lot of fightin’ good fights of whatsername they’d do if we didn’t + see they had a quiet place to fight in. And such fightin’ as theirs is! + Cats on the tiles. T’other callin’ to which to come on. I’d give a month’s + pay to get some o’ them broad-backed beggars in London sweatin’ through a + day’s road-makin’ an’ a night’s rain. They’d carry on a deal afterwards—same + as we’re supposed to carry on. I’ve bin turned out of a measly arf-license + pub down Lambeth way, full o’ greasy kebmen, ‘fore now,’ said Ortheris + with an oath. + </p> + <p> + ‘Maybe you were dhrunk,’ said Mulvaney soothingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Worse nor that. The Forders were drunk. <i>I</i> was wearin’ the Queen’s + uniform.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’d no particular thought to be a soldier i’ them days,’ said Learoyd, + still keeping his eye on the bare hill opposite, ‘but this sort o’ talk + put it i’ my head. They was so good, th’ chapel folk, that they tumbled + ower t’other side. But I stuck to it for ‘Liza’s sake, specially as she + was learning me to sing the bass part in a horotorio as Jesse were gettin’ + up. She sung like a throstle hersen, and we had practisin’s night after + night for a matter of three months.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know what a horotorio is,’ said Ortheris pertly. ‘It’s a sort of + chaplain’s sing-song—words all out of the Bible, and hullabaloojah + choruses.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Most Greenhow Hill folks played some instrument or t’other, an’ they all + sung so you might have heard them miles away, and they were so pleased wi’ + the noise they made they didn’t fair to want anybody to listen. The + preacher sung high seconds when he wasn’t playin’ the flute, an’ they set + me, as hadn’t got far with big fiddle, again Willie Satterthwaite, to jog + his elbow when he had to get a’ gate playin’. Old Jesse was happy if ever + a man was, for he were th’ conductor an’ th’ first fiddle an’ th’ leadin’ + singer, beatin’ time wi’ his fiddle-stick, till at times he’d rap with it + on the table, and cry out, “Now, you mun all stop; it’s my turn.” And he’d + face round to his front, fair sweating wi’ pride, to sing th’ tenor solos. + But he were grandest i’ th’ choruses, waggin’ his head, flinging his arms + round like a windmill, and singin’ hisself black in the face. A rare + singer were Jesse. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yo’ see, I was not o’ much account wi’ ‘em all exceptin’ to ‘Liza + Roantree, and I had a deal o’ time settin’ quiet at meetings and horotorio + practises to hearken their talk, and if it were strange to me at + beginnin’, it got stranger still at after, when I was shut on it, and + could study what it meaned. + </p> + <p> + ‘Just after th’ horotorios come off, ‘Liza, as had allus been weakly like, + was took very bad. I walked Dr. Warbottom’s horse up and down a deal of + times while he were inside, where they wouldn’t let me go, though I fair + ached to see her. + </p> + <p> + ‘“She’ll be better i’ noo, lad—better i’ noo,” he used to say. “Tha + mun ha’ patience.” Then they said if I was quiet I might go in, and th’ + Reverend Amos Barraclough used to read to her lyin’ propped up among th’ + pillows. Then she began to mend a bit, and they let me carry her on to th’ + settle, and when it got warm again she went about same as afore. Th’ + preacher and me and Blast was a deal together i’ them days, and i’ one way + we was rare good comrades. But I could ha’ stretched him time and again + with a good will. I mind one day he said he would like to go down into th’ + bowels o’ th’ earth, and see how th’ Lord had builded th’ framework o’ th’ + everlastin’ hills. He were one of them chaps as had a gift o’ sayin’ + things. They rolled off the tip of his clever tongue, same as Mulvaney + here, as would ha’ made a rare good preacher if he had nobbut given his + mind to it. I lent him a suit o’ miner’s kit as almost buried th’ little + man, and his white face down i’ th’ coat-collar and hat-flap looked like + the face of a boggart, and he cowered down i’ th’ bottom o’ the waggon. I + was drivin’ a tram as led up a bit of an incline up to th’ cave where the + engine was pumpin’, and where th’ ore was brought up and put into th’ + waggons as went down o’ themselves, me puttin’ th’ brake on and th’ horses + a-trottin’ after. Long as it was daylight we were good friends, but when + we got fair into th’ dark, and could nobbut see th’ day shinin’ at the + hole like a lamp at a street-end, I feeled downright wicked. Ma religion + dropped all away from me when I looked back at him as were always comin’ + between me and ‘Liza. The talk was ‘at they were to be wed when she got + better, an’ I couldn’t get her to say yes or nay to it. He began to sing a + hymn in his thin voice, and I came out wi’ a chorus that was all cussin’ + an’ swearin’ at my horses, an’ I began to know how I hated him. He were + such a little chap, too. I could drop him wi’ one hand down Garstang’s + Copper-hole—a place where th’ beck slithered ower th’ edge on a + rock, and fell wi’ a bit of a whisper into a pit as no rope i’ Greenhow + could plump.’ + </p> + <p> + Again Learoyd rooted up the innocent violets. ‘Ay, he should see th’ + bowels o’ th’ earth an’ never naught else. I could take him a mile or two + along th’ drift, and leave him wi’ his candle doused to cry hallelujah, + wi’ none to hear him and say amen. I was to lead him down th’ ladder-way + to th’ drift where Jesse Roantree was workin’, and why shouldn’t he slip + on th’ ladder, wi’ my feet on his fingers till they loosed grip, and I put + him down wi’ my heel? If I went fust down th’ ladder I could click hold on + him and chuck him over my head, so as he should go squshin’ down the + shaft, breakin’ his bones at ev’ry timberin’ as Bill Appleton did when he + was fresh, and hadn’t a bone left when he wrought to th’ bottom. Niver a + blasted leg to walk from Pately. Niver an arm to put round ‘Liza + Roantree’s waist. Niver no more—niver no more.’ + </p> + <p> + The thick lips curled back over the yellow teeth, and that flushed face + was not pretty to look upon. Mulvaney nodded sympathy, and Ortheris, moved + by his comrade’s passion, brought up the rifle to his shoulder, and + searched the hillside for his quarry, muttering ribaldry about a sparrow, + a spout, and a thunder-storm. The voice of the watercourse supplied the + necessary small talk till Learoyd picked up his story. + </p> + <p> + ‘But it’s none so easy to kill a man like you. When I’d given up my horses + to th’ lad as took my place and I was showin’ th’ preacher th’ workin’s, + shoutin’ into his ear across th’ clang o’ th’ pumpin’ engines, I saw he + were afraid o’ naught; and when the lamplight showed his black eyes, I + could feel as he was masterin’ me again. I were no better nor Blast + chained up short and growlin’ i’ the depths of him while a strange dog + went safe past. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Th’art a coward and a fool,” I said to mysen; an’ I wrestled i’ my mind + again’ him till, when we come to Garstang’s Copper-hole, I laid hold o’ + the preacher and lifted him up over my head and held him into the darkest + on it. “Now, lad,” I says “it’s to be one or t’other on us—thee or + me—for ‘Liza Roantree. Why, isn’t thee afraid for thysen?” I says, + for he were still i’ my arms as a sack. “Nay; I’m but afraid for thee, my + poor lad, as knows naught,” says he. I set him down on th’ edge, an’ th’ + beck run stiller, an’ there was no more buzzin’ in my head like when th’ + bee come through th’ window o’ Jesse’s house. “What dost tha mean?” says + I. + </p> + <p> + ‘“I’ve often thought as thou ought to know,” says he, “but ‘twas hard to + tell thee. ‘Liza Roantree’s for neither on us, nor for nobody o’ this + earth. Dr. Warbottom says—and he knows her, and her mother before + her—that she is in a decline, and she cannot live six months longer. + He’s known it for many a day. Steady, John! Steady!” says he. And that + weak little man pulled me further back and set me again’ him, and talked + it all over quiet and still, me turnin’ a bunch o’ candles in my hand, and + counting them ower and ower again as I listened. A deal on it were th’ + regular preachin’ talk, but there were a vast lot as made me begin to + think as he were more of a man than I’d ever given him credit for, till I + were cut as deep for him as I were for mysen. + </p> + <p> + ‘Six candles we had, and we crawled and climbed all that day while they + lasted, and I said to mysen, “‘Liza Roantree hasn’t six months to live.” + And when we came into th’ daylight again we were like dead men to look at, + an’ Blast come behind us without so much as waggin’ his tail. When I saw + ‘Liza again she looked at me a minute and says, “Who’s telled tha? For I + see tha knows.” And she tried to smile as she kissed me, and I fair broke + down. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yo’ see, I was a young chap i’ them days, and had seen naught o’ life, + let alone death, as is allus a-waitin’. She telled me as Dr. Warbottom + said as Greenhow air was too keen, and they were goin’ to Bradford, to + Jesse’s brother David, as worked i’ a mill, and I mun hold up like a man + and a Christian, and she’d pray for me. Well, and they went away, and the + preacher that same back end o’ th’ year were appointed to another circuit, + as they call it, and I were left alone on Greenhow Hill. + </p> + <p> + ‘I tried, and I tried hard, to stick to th’ chapel, but ‘tweren’t th’ same + thing at after. I hadn’t ‘Liza’s voice to follow i’ th’ singin’, nor her + eyes a-shinin’ acrost their heads. And i’ th’ class-meetings they said as + I mun have some experiences to tell, and I hadn’t a word to say for mysen. + </p> + <p> + ‘Blast and me moped a good deal, and happen we didn’t behave ourselves + over well, for they dropped us and wondered however they’d come to take us + up. I can’t tell how we got through th’ time, while i’ th’ winter I gave + up my job and went to Bradford. Old Jesse were at th’ door o’ th’ house, + in a long street o’ little houses. He’d been sendin’ th’ children ‘way as + were clatterin’ their clogs in th’ causeway, for she were asleep. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Is it thee?” he says; “but you’re not to see her. I’ll none have her + wakened for a nowt like thee. She’s goin’ fast, and she mun go in peace. + Thou’lt never be good for naught i’ th’ world, and as long as thou lives + thou’ll never play the big fiddle. Get away, lad, get away!” So he shut + the door softly i’ my face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nobody never made Jesse my master, but it seemed to me he was about + right, and I went away into the town and knocked up against a recruiting + sergeant. The old tales o’ th’ chapel folk came buzzin’ into my head. I + was to get away, and this were th’ regular road for the likes o’ me. I + ‘listed there and then, took th’ Widow’s shillin’, and had a bunch o’ + ribbons pinned i’ my hat. + </p> + <p> + ‘But next day I found my way to David Roantree’s door, and Jesse came to + open it. Says he, “Thou’s come back again wi’ th’ devil’s colours flyin’—thy + true colours, as I always telled thee.” + </p> + <p> + ‘But I begged and prayed of him to let me see her nobbut to say good-bye, + till a woman calls down th’ stairway, “She says John Learoyd’s to come + up.” Th’ old man shifts aside in a flash, and lays his hand on my arm, + quite gentle like. “But thou’lt be quiet, John,” says he, “for she’s rare + and weak. Thou was allus a good lad.” + </p> + <p> + ‘Her eyes were all alive wi’ light, and her hair was thick on the pillow + round her, but her cheeks were thin—thin to frighten a man that’s + strong. “Nay, father, yo mayn’t say th’ devil’s colours. Them ribbons is + pretty.” An’ she held out her hands for th’ hat, an’ she put all straight + as a woman will wi’ ribbons. “Nay, but what they’re pretty,” she says. + “Eh, but I’d ha’ liked to see thee i’ thy red coat, John, for thou was + allus my own lad—my very own lad, and none else.” + </p> + <p> + ‘She lifted up her arms, and they come round my neck i’ a gentle grip, and + they slacked away, and she seemed fainting. “Now yo’ mun get away, lad,” + says Jesse, and I picked up my hat and I came downstairs. + </p> + <p> + ‘Th’ recruiting sergeant were waitin’ for me at th’ corner public-house. + “Yo’ve seen your sweetheart?” says he. “Yes, I’ve seen her,” says I. + “Well, we’ll have a quart now, and you’ll do your best to forget her,” + says he, bein’ one o’ them smart, bustlin’ chaps. “Ay, sergeant,” says I. + “Forget her.” And I’ve been forgettin’ her ever since.’ + </p> + <p> + He threw away the wilted clump of white violets as he spoke. Ortheris + suddenly rose to his knees, his rifle at his shoulder, and peered across + the valley in the clear afternoon light. His chin cuddled the stock, and + there was a twitching of the muscles of the right cheek as he sighted; + Private Stanley Ortheris was engaged on his business. A speck of white + crawled up the watercourse. + </p> + <p> + ‘See that beggar? . . . Got ‘im.’ + </p> + <p> + Seven hundred yards away, and a full two hundred down the hillside, the + deserter of the Aurangabadis pitched forward, rolled down a red rock, and + lay very still, with his face in a clump of blue gentians, while a big + raven flapped out of the pine wood to make investigation. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s a clean shot, little man,’ said Mulvaney. + </p> + <p> + Learoyd thoughtfully watched the smoke clear away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Happen there was a lass tewed up wi’ him, too,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + Ortheris did not reply. He was staring across the valley, with the smile + of the artist who looks on the completed work. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MAN WHO WAS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Earth gave up her dead that tide, + Into our camp he came, + And said his say, and went his way, + And left our hearts aflame. + + Keep tally—on the gun-butt score + The vengeance we must take, + When God shall bring full reckoning, + For our dead comrade’s sake. + BALLAD. +</pre> + <p> + Let it be clearly understood that the Russian is a delightful person till + he tucks in his shirt. As an Oriental he is charming. It is only when he + insists upon being treated as the most easterly of western peoples instead + of the most westerly of easterns that he becomes a racial anomaly + extremely difficult to handle. The host never knows which side of his + nature is going to turn up next. + </p> + <p> + Dirkovitch was a Russian—a Russian of the Russians—who + appeared to get his bread by serving the Czar as an officer in a Cossack + regiment, and corresponding for a Russian newspaper with a name that was + never twice alike. He was a handsome young Oriental, fond of wandering + through unexplored portions of the earth, and he arrived in India from + nowhere in particular. At least no living man could ascertain whether it + was by way of Balkh, Badakshan, Chitral, Beluchistan, or Nepaul, or + anywhere else. The Indian Government, being in an unusually affable mood, + gave orders that he was to be civilly treated and shown everything that + was to be seen. So he drifted, talking bad English and worse French, from + one city to another, till he foregathered with Her Majesty’s White Hussars + in the city of Peshawur, which stands at the mouth of that narrow swordcut + in the hills that men call the Khyber Pass. He was undoubtedly an officer, + and he was decorated after the manner of the Russians with little + enamelled crosses, and he could talk, and (though this has nothing to do + with his merits) he had been given up as a hopeless task, or cask, by the + Black Tyrone, who individually and collectively, with hot whisky and + honey, mulled brandy, and mixed spirits of every kind, had striven in all + hospitality to make him drunk. And when the Black Tyrone, who are + exclusively Irish, fail to disturb the peace of head of a foreigner—that + foreigner is certain to be a superior man. + </p> + <p> + The White Hussars were as conscientious in choosing their wine as in + charging the enemy. All that they possessed, including some wondrous + brandy, was placed at the absolute disposition of Dirkovitch, and he + enjoyed himself hugely—even more than among the Black Tyrones. + </p> + <p> + But he remained distressingly European through it all. The White Hussars + were ‘My dear true friends,’ ‘Fellow-soldiers glorious,’ and ‘Brothers + inseparable.’ He would unburden himself by the hour on the glorious future + that awaited the combined arms of England and Russia when their hearts and + their territories should run side by side and the great mission of + civilising Asia should begin. That was unsatisfactory, because Asia is not + going to be civilised after the methods of the West. There is too much + Asia and she is too old. You cannot reform a lady of many lovers, and Asia + has been insatiable in her flirtations aforetime. She will never attend + Sunday-school or learn to vote save with swords for tickets. + </p> + <p> + Dirkovitch knew this as well as any one else, but it suited him to talk + special-correspondently and to make himself as genial as he could. Now and + then he volunteered a little, a very little, information about his own + sotnia of Cossacks, left apparently to look after themselves somewhere at + the back of beyond. He had done rough work in Central Asia, and had seen + rather more help-yourself fighting than most men of his years. But he was + careful never to betray his superiority, and more than careful to praise + on all occasions the appearance, drill, uniform, and organisation of Her + Majesty’s White Hussars. And indeed they were a regiment to be admired. + When Lady Durgan, widow of the late Sir John Durgan, arrived in their + station, and after a short time had been proposed to by every single man + at mess, she put the public sentiment very neatly when she explained that + they were all so nice that unless she could marry them all, including the + colonel and some majors already married, she was not going to content + herself with one hussar. Wherefore she wedded a little man in a rifle + regiment, being by nature contradictious; and the White Hussars were going + to wear crape on their arms, but compromised by attending the wedding in + full force, and lining the aisle with unutterable reproach. She had jilted + them all—from Basset-Holmer the senior captain to little Mildred the + junior subaltern, who could have given her four thousand a year and a + title. + </p> + <p> + The only persons who did not share the general regard for the White + Hussars were a few thousand gentlemen of Jewish extraction who lived + across the border, and answered to the name of Pathan. They had once met + the regiment officially and for something less than twenty minutes, but + the interview, which was complicated with many casualties, had filled them + with prejudice. They even called the White Hussars children of the devil + and sons of persons whom it would be perfectly impossible to meet in + decent society. Yet they were not above making their aversion fill their + money-belts. The regiment possessed carbines—beautiful Martini-Henri + carbines that would lob a bullet into an enemy’s camp at one thousand + yards, and were even handier than the long rifle. Therefore they were + coveted all along the border, and since demand inevitably breeds supply, + they were supplied at the risk of life and limb for exactly their weight + in coined silver—seven and one-half pounds weight of rupees, or + sixteen pounds sterling reckoning the rupee at par. They were stolen at + night by snaky-haired thieves who crawled on their stomachs under the nose + of the sentries; they disappeared mysteriously from locked arm-racks, and + in the hot weather, when all the barrack doors and windows were open, they + vanished like puffs of their own smoke. The border people desired them for + family vendettas and contingencies. But in the long cold nights of the + northern Indian winter they were stolen most extensively. The traffic of + murder was liveliest among the hills at that season, and prices ruled + high. The regimental guards were first doubled and then trebled. A trooper + does not much care if he loses a weapon—Government must make it good—but + he deeply resents the loss of his sleep. The regiment grew very angry, and + one rifle-thief bears the visible marks of their anger upon him to this + hour. That incident stopped the burglaries for a time, and the guards were + reduced accordingly, and the regiment devoted itself to polo with + unexpected results; for it beat by two goals to one that very terrible + polo corps the Lushkar Light Horse, though the latter had four ponies + apiece for a short hour’s fight, as well as a native officer who played + like a lambent flame across the ground. + </p> + <p> + They gave a dinner to celebrate the event. The Lushkar team came, and + Dirkovitch came, in the fullest full uniform of a Cossack officer, which + is as full as a dressing-gown, and was introduced to the Lushkars, and + opened his eyes as he regarded. They were lighter men than the Hussars, + and they carried themselves with the swing that is the peculiar right of + the Punjab Frontier Force and all Irregular Horse. Like everything else in + the Service it has to be learnt, but, unlike many things, it is never + forgotten, and remains on the body till death. + </p> + <p> + The great beam-roofed mess-room of the White Hussars was a sight to be + remembered. All the mess plate was out on the long table—the same + table that had served up the bodies of five officers after a forgotten + fight long and long ago—the dingy, battered standards faced the door + of entrance, clumps of winter-roses lay between the silver candlesticks, + and the portraits of eminent officers deceased looked down on their + successors from between the heads of sambhur, nilghai, markhor, and, pride + of all the mess, two grinning snow-leopards that had cost Basset-Holmer + four months’ leave that he might have spent in England, instead of on the + road to Thibet and the daily risk of his life by ledge, snow-slide, and + grassy slope. + </p> + <p> + The servants in spotless white muslin and the crest of their regiments on + the brow of their turbans waited behind their masters, who were clad in + the scarlet and gold of the White Hussars, and the cream and silver of the + Lushkar Light Horse. Dirkovitch’s dull green uniform was the only dark + spot at the board, but his big onyx eyes made up for it. He was + fraternising effusively with the captain of the Lushkar team, who was + wondering how many of Dirkovitch’s Cossacks his own dark wiry + down-countrymen could account for in a fair charge. But one does not speak + of these things openly. + </p> + <p> + The talk rose higher and higher, and the regimental band played between + the courses, as is the immemorial custom, till all tongues ceased for a + moment with the removal of the dinner-slips and the first toast of + obligation, when an officer rising said, ‘Mr. Vice, the Queen,’ and little + Mildred from the bottom of the table answered, ‘The Queen, God bless her,’ + and the big spurs clanked as the big men heaved themselves up and drank + the Queen upon whose pay they were falsely supposed to settle their + mess-bills. That Sacrament of the Mess never grows old, and never ceases + to bring a lump into the throat of the listener wherever he be by sea or + by land. Dirkovitch rose with his ‘brothers glorious,’ but he could not + understand. No one but an officer can tell what the toast means; and the + bulk have more sentiment than comprehension. Immediately after the little + silence that follows on the ceremony there entered the native officer who + had played for the Lushkar team. He could not, of course, eat with the + mess, but he came in at dessert, all six feet of him, with the blue and + silver turban atop, and the big black boots below. The mess rose joyously + as he thrust forward the hilt of his sabre in token of fealty for the + colonel of the White Hussars to touch, and dropped into a vacant chair + amid shouts of: ‘Rung ho, Hira Singh!’ (which being translated means ‘Go + in and win’). ‘Did I whack you over the knee, old man?’ ‘Ressaidar Sahib, + what the devil made you play that kicking pig of a pony in the last ten + minutes?’ ‘Shabash, Ressaidar Sahib!’ Then the voice of the colonel, ‘The + health of Ressaidar Hira Singh!’ + </p> + <p> + After the shouting had died away Hira Singh rose to reply, for he was the + cadet of a royal house, the son of a king’s son, and knew what was due on + these occasions. Thus he spoke in the vernacular:—‘Colonel Sahib and + officers of this regiment. Much honour have you done me. This will I + remember. We came down from afar to play you. But we were beaten.’ (‘No + fault of yours, Ressaidar Sahib. Played on our own ground y’know. Your + ponies were cramped from the railway. Don’t apologise!’) ‘Therefore + perhaps we will come again if it be so ordained.’ (‘Hear! Hear! Hear, + indeed! Bravo! Hsh!’) ‘Then we will play you afresh’ (‘Happy to meet + you.’) ‘till there are left no feet upon our ponies. Thus far for sport.’ + He dropped one hand on his sword-hilt and his eye wandered to Dirkovitch + lolling back in his chair. ‘But if by the will of God there arises any + other game which is not the polo game, then be assured, Colonel Sahib and + officers, that we will play it out side by side, though THEY,’ again his + eye sought Dirkovitch, ‘though THEY I say have fifty ponies to our one + horse.’ And with a deep-mouthed Rung ho! that sounded like a musket-butt + on flagstones he sat down amid leaping glasses. + </p> + <p> + Dirkovitch, who had devoted himself steadily to the brandy—the + terrible brandy aforementioned—did not understand, nor did the + expurgated translations offered to him at all convey the point. Decidedly + Hira Singh’s was the speech of the evening, and the clamour might have + continued to the dawn had it not been broken by the noise of a shot + without that sent every man feeling at his defenceless left side. Then + there was a scuffle and a yell of pain. + </p> + <p> + ‘Carbine-stealing again!’ said the adjutant, calmly sinking back in his + chair. ‘This comes of reducing the guards. I hope the sentries have killed + him.’ + </p> + <p> + The feet of armed men pounded on the verandah flags, and it was as though + something was being dragged. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why don’t they put him in the cells till the morning?’ said the colonel + testily. ‘See if they’ve damaged him, sergeant.’ + </p> + <p> + The mess sergeant fled out into the darkness and returned with two + troopers and a corporal, all very much perplexed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Caught a man stealin’ carbines, sir,’ said the corporal. ‘Leastways ‘e + was crawlin’ towards the barricks, sir, past the main road sentries, an’ + the sentry ‘e sez, sir—’ + </p> + <p> + The limp heap of rags upheld by the three men groaned. Never was seen so + destitute and demoralised an Afghan. He was turbanless, shoeless, caked + with dirt, and all but dead with rough handling. Hira Singh started + slightly at the sound of the man’s pain. Dirkovitch took another glass of + brandy. + </p> + <p> + ‘WHAT does the sentry say?’ said the colonel. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sez ‘e speaks English, sir,’ said the corporal. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you brought him into mess instead of handing him over to the sergeant! + If he spoke all the Tongues of the Pentecost you’ve no business—’ + </p> + <p> + Again the bundle groaned and muttered. Little Mildred had risen from his + place to inspect. He jumped back as though he had been shot. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps it would be better, sir, to send the men away,’ said he to the + colonel, for he was a much privileged subaltern. He put his arms round the + ragbound horror as he spoke, and dropped him into a chair. It may not have + been explained that the littleness of Mildred lay in his being six feet + four and big in proportion. The corporal seeing that an officer was + disposed to look after the capture, and that the colonel’s eye was + beginning to blaze, promptly removed himself and his men. The mess was + left alone with the carbine-thief, who laid his head on the table and wept + bitterly, hopelessly, and inconsolably, as little children weep. + </p> + <p> + Hira Singh leapt to his feet. ‘Colonel Sahib,’ said he, ‘that man is no + Afghan, for they weep Ai! Ai! Nor is he of Hindustan, for they weep Oh! + Ho! He weeps after the fashion of the white men, who say Ow! Ow!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now where the dickens did you get that knowledge, Hira Singh?’ said the + captain of the Lushkar team. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hear him!’ said Hira Singh simply, pointing at the crumpled figure that + wept as though it would never cease. + </p> + <p> + ‘He said, “My God!”’ said little Mildred. ‘I heard him say it.’ + </p> + <p> + The colonel and the mess-room looked at the man in silence. It is a + horrible thing to hear a man cry. A woman can sob from the top of her + palate, or her lips, or anywhere else, but a man must cry from his + diaphragm, and it rends him to pieces. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor devil!’ said the colonel, coughing tremendously. ‘We ought to send + him to hospital. He’s been man-handled.’ + </p> + <p> + Now the adjutant loved his carbines. They were to him as his + grandchildren, the men standing in the first place. He grunted + rebelliously: ‘I can understand an Afghan stealing, because he’s built + that way. But I can’t understand his crying. That makes it worse.’ + </p> + <p> + The brandy must have affected Dirkovitch, for he lay back in his chair and + stared at the ceiling. There was nothing special in the ceiling beyond a + shadow as of a huge black coffin. Owing to some peculiarity in the + construction of the mess-room this shadow was always thrown when the + candles were lighted. It never disturbed the digestion of the White + Hussars. They were in fact rather proud of it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is he going to cry all night?’ said the colonel, ‘or are we supposed to + sit up with little Mildred’s guest until he feels better?’ + </p> + <p> + The man in the chair threw up his head and stared at the mess. ‘Oh, my + God!’ he said, and every soul in the mess rose to his feet. Then the + Lushkar captain did a deed for which he ought to have been given the + Victoria Cross—distinguished gallantry in a fight against + overwhelming curiosity. He picked up his team with his eyes as the hostess + picks up the ladies at the opportune moment, and pausing only by the + colonel’s chair to say, ‘This isn’t OUR affair, you know, sir,’ led them + into the verandah and the gardens. Hira Singh was the last to go, and he + looked at Dirkovitch. But Dirkovitch had departed into a brandy-paradise + of his own. His lips moved without sound and he was studying the coffin on + the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + ‘White—white all over,’ said Basset-Holmer, the adjutant. ‘What a + pernicious renegade he must be! I wonder where he came from?’ + </p> + <p> + The colonel shook the man gently by the arm, and ‘Who are you?’ said he. + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. The man stared round the mess-room and smiled in the + colonel’s face. Little Mildred, who was always more of a woman than a man + till ‘Boot and saddle’ was sounded, repeated the question in a voice that + would have drawn confidences from a geyser. The man only smiled. + Dirkovitch at the far end of the table slid gently from his chair to the + floor. + </p> + <p> + No son of Adam in this present imperfect world can mix the Hussars’ + champagne with the Hussars’ brandy by five and eight glasses of each + without remembering the pit whence he was digged and descending thither. + The band began to play the tune with which the White Hussars from the date + of their formation have concluded all their functions. They would sooner + be disbanded than abandon that tune; it is a part of their system. The man + straightened himself in his chair and drummed on the table with his + fingers. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t see why we should entertain lunatics,’ said the colonel. ‘Call a + guard and send him off to the cells. We’ll look into the business in the + morning. Give him a glass of wine first though.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Mildred filled a sherry-glass with the brandy and thrust it over to + the man. He drank, and the tune rose louder, and he straightened himself + yet more. Then he put out his long-taloned hands to a piece of plate + opposite and fingered it lovingly. There was a mystery connected with that + piece of plate, in the shape of a spring which converted what was a + seven-branched candlestick, three springs on each side and one in the + middle, into a sort of wheel-spoke candelabrum. He found the spring, + pressed it, and laughed weakly. He rose from his chair and inspected a + picture on the wall, then moved on to another picture, the mess watching + him without a word. When he came to the mantelpiece he shook his head and + seemed distressed. A piece of plate representing a mounted hussar in full + uniform caught his eye. He pointed to it, and then to the mantelpiece with + inquiry in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it—Oh what is it?’ said little Mildred. Then as a mother + might speak to a child, ‘That is a horse. Yes, a horse.’ + </p> + <p> + Very slowly came the answer in a thick, passionless guttural—‘Yes, I—have + seen. But—where is THE horse?’ + </p> + <p> + You could have heard the hearts of the mess beating as the men drew back + to give the stranger full room in his wanderings. There was no question of + calling the guard. + </p> + <p> + Again he spoke—very slowly, ‘Where is OUR horse?’ + </p> + <p> + There is but one horse in the White Hussars, and his portrait hangs + outside the door of the mess-room. He is the piebald drum-horse, the king + of the regimental band, that served the regiment for seven-and-thirty + years, and in the end was shot for old age. Half the mess tore the thing + down from its place and thrust it into the man’s hands. He placed it above + the mantel-piece, it clattered on the ledge as his poor hands dropped it, + and he staggered towards the bottom of the table, falling into Mildred’s + chair. Then all the men spoke to one another something after this fashion, + ‘The drum-horse hasn’t hung over the mantelpiece since ‘67.’ ‘How does he + know?’ ‘Mildred, go and speak to him again.’ ‘Colonel, what are you going + to do?’ ‘Oh, dry up, and give the poor devil a chance to pull himself + together.’ ‘It isn’t possible anyhow. The man’s a lunatic.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Mildred stood at the colonel’s side talking in his ear. ‘Will you + be good enough to take your seats please, gentlemen!’ he said, and the + mess dropped into the chairs. Only Dirkovitch’s seat, next to little + Mildred’s, was blank, and little Mildred himself had found Hira Singh’s + place. The wide-eyed mess-sergeant filled the glasses in deep silence. + Once more the colonel rose, but his hand shook and the port spilled on the + table as he looked straight at the man in little Mildred’s chair and said + hoarsely, ‘Mr. Vice, the Queen.’ There was a little pause, but the man + sprung to his feet and answered without hesitation, ‘The Queen, God bless + her!’ and as he emptied the thin glass he snapped the shank between his + fingers. + </p> + <p> + Long and long ago, when the Empress of India was a young woman and there + were no unclean ideals in the land, it was the custom of a few messes to + drink the Queen’s toast in broken glass, to the vast delight of the + mess-contractors. The custom is now dead, because there is nothing to + break anything for, except now and again the word of a Government, and + that has been broken already. + </p> + <p> + ‘That settles it,’ said the colonel, with a gasp. ‘He’s not a sergeant. + What in the world is he?’ + </p> + <p> + The entire mess echoed the word, and the volley of questions would have + scared any man. It was no wonder that the ragged, filthy invader could + only smile and shake his head. + </p> + <p> + From under the table, calm and smiling, rose Dirkovitch, who had been + roused from healthful slumber by feet upon his body. By the side of the + man he rose, and the man shrieked and grovelled. It was a horrible sight + coming so swiftly upon the pride and glory of the toast that had brought + the strayed wits together. + </p> + <p> + Dirkovitch made no offer to raise him, but little Mildred heaved him up in + an instant. It is not good that a gentleman who can answer to the Queen’s + toast should lie at the feet of a subaltern of Cossacks. + </p> + <p> + The hasty action tore the wretch’s upper clothing nearly to the waist, and + his body was seamed with dry black scars. There is only one weapon in the + world that cuts: in parallel lines, and it is neither the cane nor the + cat. Dirkovitch saw the marks, and the pupils of his eyes dilated. Also + his face changed. He said something that sounded like Shto ve takete, and + the man fawning answered, Chetyre. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s that?’ said everybody together. + </p> + <p> + ‘His number. That is number four, you know.’ Dirkovitch spoke very + thickly. + </p> + <p> + ‘What has a Queen’s officer to do with a qualified number?’ said the + Colonel, and an unpleasant growl ran round the table. + </p> + <p> + ‘How can I tell?’ said the affable Oriental with a sweet smile. ‘He is a—how + you have it?—escape—run-a-way, from over there.’ He nodded + towards the darkness of the night. + </p> + <p> + ‘Speak to him if he’ll answer you, and speak to him gently,’ said little + Mildred, settling the man in a chair. It seemed most improper to all + present that Dirkovitch should sip brandy as he talked in purring, + spitting Russian to the creature who answered so feebly and with such + evident dread. But since Dirkovitch appeared to understand no one said a + word. All breathed heavily, leaning forward, in the long gaps of the + conversation. The next time that they have no engagements on hand the + White Hussars intend to go to St. Petersburg in a body to learn Russian. + </p> + <p> + ‘He does not know how many years ago,’ said Dirkovitch, facing the mess, + ‘but he says it was very long ago in a war. I think that there was an + accident. He says he was of this glorious and distinguished regiment in + the war.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The rolls! The rolls! Holmer, get the rolls!’ said little Mildred, and + the adjutant dashed off bare-headed to the orderly-room, where the + muster-rolls of the regiment were kept. He returned just in time to hear + Dirkovitch conclude, ‘Therefore, my dear friends, I am most sorry to say + there was an accident which would have been reparable if he had apologised + to that our colonel, which he had insulted.’ + </p> + <p> + Then followed another growl which the colonel tried to beat down. The mess + was in no mood just then to weigh insults to Russian colonels. + </p> + <p> + ‘He does not remember, but I think that there was an accident, and so he + was not exchanged among the prisoners, but he was sent to another place—how + do you say?—the country. SO, he says, he came here. He does not know + how he came. Eh? He was at Chepany’—the man caught the word, nodded, + and shivered—‘at Zhigansk and Irkutsk. I cannot understand how he + escaped. He says, too, that he was in the forests for many years, but how + many years he has forgotten—that with many things. It was an + accident; done because he did not apologise to that our colonel. Ah!’ + </p> + <p> + Instead of echoing Dirkovitch’s sigh of regret, it is sad to record that + the White Hussars livelily exhibited un-Christian delight and other + emotions, hardly restrained by their sense of hospitality. Holmer flung + the frayed and yellow regimental rolls on the table, and the men flung + themselves at these. + </p> + <p> + ‘Steady! Fifty-six—fifty-five—fifty-four,’ said Holmer. ‘Here + we are. “Lieutenant Austin Limmason. MISSING.” That was before Sebastopol. + What an infernal shame! Insulted one of their colonels, and was quietly + shipped off. Thirty years of his life wiped out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But he never apologised. Said he’d see him damned first,’ chorused the + mess. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor chap! I suppose he never had the chance afterwards. How did he come + here?’ said the colonel. + </p> + <p> + The dingy heap in the chair could give no answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know who you are?’ + </p> + <p> + It laughed weakly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know that you are Limmason—Lieutenant Limmason of the White + Hussars?’ + </p> + <p> + Swiftly as a shot came the answer, in a slightly surprised tone, ‘Yes, I’m + Limmason, of course.’ The light died out in his eyes, and the man + collapsed, watching every motion of Dirkovitch with terror. A flight from + Siberia may fix a few elementary facts in the mind, but it does not seem + to lead to continuity of thought. The man could not explain how, like a + homing pigeon, he had found his way to his own old mess again. Of what he + had suffered or seen he knew nothing. He cringed before Dirkovitch as + instinctively as he had pressed the spring of the candlestick, sought the + picture of the drum-horse, and answered to the toast of the Queen. The + rest was a blank that the dreaded Russian tongue could only in part + remove. His head bowed on his breast, and he giggled and cowered + alternately. + </p> + <p> + The devil that lived in the brandy prompted Dirkovitch at this extremely + inopportune moment to make a speech. He rose, swaying slightly, gripped + the table-edge, while his eyes glowed like opals, and began: + </p> + <p> + ‘Fellow-soldiers glorious—true friends and hospitables. It was an + accident, and deplorable—most deplorable.’ Here he smiled sweetly + all round the mess. ‘But you will think of this little, little thing. So + little, is it not? The Czar! Posh! I slap my fingers—I snap my + fingers at him. Do I believe in him? No! But in us Slav who has done + nothing, HIM I believe. Seventy—how much—millions peoples that + have done nothing—not one thing. Posh! Napoleon was an episode.’ He + banged a hand on the table. ‘Hear you, old peoples, we have done nothing + in the world—out here. All our work is to do; and it shall be done, + old peoples. Get a-way!’ He waved his hand imperiously, and pointed to the + man. ‘You see him. He is not good to see. He was just one little—oh, + so little—accident, that no one remembered. Now he is THAT! So will + you be, brother-soldiers so brave—so will you be. But you will never + come back. You will all go where he is gone, or’—he pointed to the + great coffin-shadow on the ceiling, and muttering, ‘Seventy millions—get + a-way, you old peoples,’ fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sweet, and to the point,’ said little Mildred. ‘What’s the use of getting + wroth? Let’s make this poor devil comfortable.’ + </p> + <p> + But that was a matter suddenly and swiftly taken from the loving hands of + the White Hussars. The lieutenant had returned only to go away again three + days later, when the wail of the Dead March, and the tramp of the + squadrons, told the wondering Station, who saw no gap in the mess-table, + that an officer of the regiment had resigned his new-found commission. + </p> + <p> + And Dirkovitch, bland, supple, and always genial, went away too by a night + train. Little Mildred and another man saw him off, for he was the guest of + the mess, and even had he smitten the colonel with the open hand, the law + of that mess allowed no relaxation of hospitality. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye, Dirkovitch, and a pleasant journey,’ said little Mildred. + </p> + <p> + ‘Au revoir,’ said the Russian. + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed! But we thought you were going home?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, but I will come again. My dear friends, is that road shut?’ He + pointed to where the North Star burned over the Khyber Pass. + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jove! I forgot. Of course. Happy to meet you, old man, any time you + like. Got everything you want? Cheroots, ice, bedding? That’s all right. + Well, au revoir, Dirkovitch.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Um,’ said the other man, as the tail-lights of the train grew small. ‘Of—all—the—unmitigated—!’ + </p> + <p> + Little Mildred answered nothing, but watched the North Star and hummed a + selection from a recent Simla burlesque that had much delighted the White + Hussars. It ran— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I’m sorry for Mister Bluebeard, + I’m sorry to cause him pain; + But a terrible spree there’s sure to be + When he comes back again. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HEAD OF THE DISTRICT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There’s a convict more in the Central Jail, + Behind the old mud wall; + There’s a lifter less on the Border trail, + And the Queen’s Peace over all, + Dear boys + The Queen’s Peace over all. + + For we must bear our leader’s blame, + On us the shame will fall, + If we lift our hand from a fettered land + And the Queen’s Peace over all, + Dear boys, + The Queen’s Peace over all! + THE RUNNING OF SHINDAND. +</pre> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p> + The Indus had risen in flood without warning. Last night it was a fordable + shallow; to-night five miles of raving muddy water parted bank and caving + bank, and the river was still rising under the moon. A litter borne by six + bearded men, all unused to the work, stopped in the white sand that + bordered the whiter plain. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s God’s will,’ they said. ‘We dare not cross to-night, even in a boat. + Let us light a fire and cook food. We be tired men.’ + </p> + <p> + They looked at the litter inquiringly. Within, the Deputy Commissioner of + the Kot-Kumharsen district lay dying of fever. They had brought him across + country, six fighting-men of a frontier clan that he had won over to the + paths of a moderate righteousness, when he had broken down at the foot of + their inhospitable hills. And Tallantire, his assistant, rode with them, + heavy-hearted as heavy-eyed with sorrow and lack of sleep. He had served + under the sick man for three years, and had learned to love him as men + associated in toil of the hardest learn to love—or hate. Dropping + from his horse he parted the curtains of the litter and peered inside. + </p> + <p> + ‘Orde—Orde, old man, can you hear? We have to wait till the river + goes down, worse luck.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hear,’ returned a dry whisper. ‘Wait till the river goes down. I + thought we should reach camp before the dawn. Polly knows. She’ll meet + me.’ + </p> + <p> + One of the litter-men stared across the river and caught a faint twinkle + of light on the far side. He whispered to Tallantire, ‘There are his + camp-fires, and his wife. They will cross in the morning, for they have + better boats. Can he live so long?’ + </p> + <p> + Tallantire shook his head. Yardley-Orde was very near to death. What need + to vex his soul with hopes of a meeting that could not be? The river + gulped at the banks, brought down a cliff of sand, and snarled the more + hungrily. The litter-men sought for fuel in the waste-dried camel-thorn + and refuse of the camps that had waited at the ford. Their sword-belts + clinked as they moved softly in the haze of the moonlight, and + Tallantire’s horse coughed to explain that he would like a blanket. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m cold too,’ said the voice from the litter. ‘I fancy this is the end. + Poor Polly!’ + </p> + <p> + Tallantire rearranged the blankets. Khoda Dad Khan, seeing this, stripped + off his own heavy-wadded sheepskin coat and added it to the pile. ‘I shall + be warm by the fire presently,’ said he. Tallantire took the wasted body + of his chief into his arms and held it against his breast. Perhaps if they + kept him very warm Orde might live to see his wife once more. If only + blind Providence would send a three-foot fall in the river! + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s better,’ said Orde faintly. ‘Sorry to be a nuisance, but is—is + there anything to drink?’ + </p> + <p> + They gave him milk and whisky, and Tallantire felt a little warmth against + his own breast. Orde began to mutter. + </p> + <p> + ‘It isn’t that I mind dying,’ he said. ‘It’s leaving Polly and the + district. Thank God! we have no children. Dick, you know, I’m dipped—awfully + dipped—debts in my first five years’ service. It isn’t much of a + pension, but enough for her. She has her mother at home. Getting there is + the difficulty. And—and—you see, not being a soldier’s wife—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ll arrange the passage home, of course,’ said Tallantire quietly. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not nice to think of sending round the hat; but, good Lord! how many + men I lie here and remember that had to do it! Morten’s dead—he was + of my year. Shaughnessy is dead, and he had children; I remember he used + to read us their school-letters; what a bore we thought him! Evans is dead—Kot-Kumharsen + killed him! Ricketts of Myndonie is dead—and I’m going too. “Man + that is born of a woman is small potatoes and few in the hill.” That + reminds me, Dick; the four Khusru Kheyl villages in our border want a + one-third remittance this spring. That’s fair; their crops are bad. See + that they get it, and speak to Ferris about the canal. I should like to + have lived till that was finished; it means so much for the North-Indus + villages—but Ferris is an idle beggar—wake him up. You’ll have + charge of the district till my successor comes. I wish they would appoint + you permanently; you know the folk. I suppose it will be Bullows, though. + ‘Good man, but too weak for frontier work; and he doesn’t understand the + priests. The blind priest at Jagai will bear watching. You’ll find it in + my papers,—in the uniform-case, I think. Call the Khusru Kheyl men + up; I’ll hold my last public audience. Khoda Dad Khan!’ + </p> + <p> + The leader of the men sprang to the side of the litter, his companions + following. + </p> + <p> + ‘Men, I’m dying,’ said Orde quickly, in the vernacular; ‘and soon there + will be no more Orde Sahib to twist your tails and prevent you from + raiding cattle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘God forbid this thing!’ broke out the deep bass chorus. ‘The Sahib is not + going to die.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, he is; and then he will know whether Mahomed speaks truth, or Moses. + But you must be good men, when I am not here. Such of you as live in our + borders must pay your taxes quietly as before. I have spoken of the + villages to be gently treated this year. Such of you as live in the hills + must refrain from cattle-lifting, and burn no more thatch, and turn a deaf + ear to the voice of the priests, who, not knowing the strength of the + Government, would lead you into foolish wars, wherein you will surely die + and your crops be eaten by strangers. And you must not sack any caravans, + and must leave your arms at the police-post when you come in; as has been + your custom, and my order. And Tallantire Sahib will be with you, but I do + not know who takes my place. I speak now true talk, for I am as it were + already dead, my children,—for though ye be strong men, ye are + children.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And thou art our father and our mother,’ broke in Khoda Dad Khan with an + oath. ‘What shall we do, now there is no one to speak for us, or to teach + us to go wisely!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There remains Tallantire Sahib. Go to him; he knows your talk and your + heart. Keep the young men quiet, listen to the old men, and obey. Khoda + Dad Khan, take my ring. The watch and chain go to thy brother. Keep those + things for my sake, and I will speak to whatever God I may encounter and + tell him that the Khusru Kheyl are good men. Ye have my leave to go.’ + </p> + <p> + Khoda Dad Khan, the ring upon his finger, choked audibly as he caught the + well-known formula that closed an interview. His brother turned to look + across the river. The dawn was breaking, and a speck of white showed on + the dull silver of the stream. ‘She comes,’ said the man under his breath. + ‘Can he live for another two hours?’ And he pulled the newly-acquired + watch out of his belt and looked uncomprehendingly at the dial, as he had + seen Englishmen do. + </p> + <p> + For two hours the bellying sail tacked and blundered up and down the + river, Tallantire still clasping Orde in his arms, and Khoda Dad Khan + chafing his feet. He spoke now and again of the district and his wife, + but, as the end neared, more frequently of the latter. They hoped he did + not know that she was even then risking her life in a crazy native boat to + regain him. But the awful foreknowledge of the dying deceived them. + Wrenching himself forward, Orde looked through the curtains and saw how + near was the sail. ‘That’s Polly,’ he said simply, though his mouth was + wried with agony. ‘Polly and—the grimmest practical joke ever played + on a man. Dick—you’ll—have—to—explain.’ + </p> + <p> + And an hour later Tallantire met on the bank a woman in a gingham + riding-habit and a sun-hat who cried out to him for her husband—her + boy and her darling—while Khoda Dad Khan threw himself face-down on + the sand and covered his eyes. + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p> + The very simplicity of the notion was its charm. What more easy to win a + reputation for far-seeing statesmanship, originality, and, above all, + deference to the desires of the people, than by appointing a child of the + country to the rule of that country? Two hundred millions of the most + loving and grateful folk under Her Majesty’s dominion would laud the fact, + and their praise would endure for ever. Yet he was indifferent to praise + or blame, as befitted the Very Greatest of All the Viceroys. His + administration was based upon principle, and the principle must be + enforced in season and out of season. His pen and tongue had created the + New India, teeming with possibilities—loud-voiced, insistent, a + nation among nations—all his very own. Wherefore the Very Greatest + of All the Viceroys took another step in advance, and with it counsel of + those who should have advised him on the appointment of a successor to + Yardley-Orde. There was a gentleman and a member of the Bengal Civil + Service who had won his place and a university degree to boot in fair and + open competition with the sons of the English. He was cultured, of the + world, and, if report spoke truly, had wisely and, above all, + sympathetically ruled a crowded district in South-Eastern Bengal. He had + been to England and charmed many drawing-rooms there. His name, if the + Viceroy recollected aright, was Mr. Grish Chunder De, M. A. In short, did + anybody see any objection to the appointment, always on principle, of a + man of the people to rule the people? The district in South-Eastern Bengal + might with advantage, he apprehended, pass over to a younger civilian of + Mr. G. C. De’s nationality (who had written a remarkably clever pamphlet + on the political value of sympathy in administration); and Mr. G. C. De + could be transferred northward to Kot-Kumharsen. The Viceroy was averse, + on principle, to interfering with appointments under control of the + Provincial Governments. He wished it to be understood that he merely + recommended and advised in this instance. As regarded the mere question of + race, Mr. Grish Chunder De was more English than the English, and yet + possessed of that peculiar sympathy and insight which the best among the + best Service in the world could only win to at the end of their service. + </p> + <p> + The stern, black-bearded kings who sit about the Council-board of India + divided on the step, with the inevitable result of driving the Very + Greatest of All the Viceroys into the borders of hysteria, and a + bewildered obstinacy pathetic as that of a child. + </p> + <p> + ‘The principle is sound enough,’ said the weary-eyed Head of the Red + Provinces in which Kot-Kumharsen lay, for he too held theories. ‘The only + difficulty is—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Put the screw on the District officials; brigade De with a very strong + Deputy Commissioner on each side of him; give him the best assistant in + the Province; rub the fear of God into the people beforehand; and if + anything goes wrong, say that his colleagues didn’t back him up. All these + lovely little experiments recoil on the District-Officer in the end,’ said + the Knight of the Drawn Sword with a truthful brutality that made the Head + of the Red Provinces shudder. And on a tacit understanding of this kind + the transfer was accomplished, as quietly as might be for many reasons. + </p> + <p> + It is sad to think that what goes for public opinion in India did not + generally see the wisdom of the Viceroy’s appointment. There were not + lacking indeed hireling organs, notoriously in the pay of a tyrannous + bureaucracy, who more than hinted that His Excellency was a fool, a + dreamer of dreams, a doctrinaire, and, worst of all, a trifler with the + lives of men. ‘The Viceroy’s Excellence Gazette,’ published in Calcutta, + was at pains to thank ‘Our beloved Viceroy for once more and again thus + gloriously vindicating the potentialities of the Bengali nations for + extended executive and administrative duties in foreign parts beyond our + ken. We do not at all doubt that our excellent fellow-townsman, Mr. Grish + Chunder De, Esq., M. A., will uphold the prestige of the Bengali, + notwithstanding what underhand intrigue and peshbundi may be set on foot + to insidiously nip his fame and blast his prospects among the proud + civilians, some of which will now have to serve under a despised native + and take orders too. How will you like that, Misters? We entreat our + beloved Viceroy still to substantiate himself superiorly to race-prejudice + and colour-blindness, and to allow the flower of this now OUR Civil + Service all the full pays and allowances granted to his more fortunate + brethren.’ + </p> + <h3> + III + </h3> + <p> + ‘When does this man take over charge? I’m alone just now, and I gather + that I’m to stand fast under him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Would you have cared for a transfer?’ said Bullows keenly. Then, laying + his hand on Tallantire’s shoulder: ‘We’re all in the same boat; don’t + desert us. And yet, why the devil should you stay, if you can get another + charge?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was Orde’s,’ said Tallantire simply. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it’s De’s now. He’s a Bengali of the Bengalis, crammed with code + and case law; a beautiful man so far as routine and deskwork go, and + pleasant to talk to. They naturally have always kept him in his own home + district, where all his sisters and his cousins and his aunts lived, + somewhere south of Dacca. He did no more than turn the place into a + pleasant little family preserve, allowed his subordinates to do what they + liked, and let everybody have a chance at the shekels. Consequently he’s + immensely popular down there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve nothing to do with that. How on earth am I to explain to the + district that they are going to be governed by a Bengali? Do you—does + the Government, I mean—suppose that the Khusru Kheyl will sit quiet + when they once know? What will the Mahomedan heads of villages say? How + will the police—Muzbi Sikhs and Pathans—how will THEY work + under him? We couldn’t say anything if the Government appointed a sweeper; + but my people will say a good deal, you know that. It’s a piece of cruel + folly!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy, I know all that, and more. I’ve represented it, and have + been told that I am exhibiting “culpable and puerile prejudice.” By Jove, + if the Khusru Kheyl don’t exhibit something worse than that I don’t know + the Border! The chances are that you will have the district alight on your + hands, and I shall have to leave my work and help you pull through. I + needn’t ask you to stand by the Bengali man in every possible way. You’ll + do that for your own sake.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For Orde’s. I can’t say that I care twopence personally.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be an ass. It’s grievous enough, God knows, and the Government will + know later on; but that’s no reason for your sulking. YOU must try to run + the district, YOU must stand between him and as much insult as possible; + YOU must show him the ropes; YOU must pacify the Khusru Kheyl, and just + warn Curbar of the Police to look out for trouble by the way. I’m always + at the end of a telegraph-wire, and willing to peril my reputation to hold + the district together. You’ll lose yours, of course, If you keep things + straight, and he isn’t actually beaten with a stick when he’s on tour, + he’ll get all the credit. If anything goes wrong, you’ll be told that you + didn’t support him loyally.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know what I’ve got to do,’ said Tallantire wearily, ‘and I’m going to + do it. But it’s hard.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The work is with us, the event is with Allah,—as Orde used to say + when he was more than usually in hot water.’ And Bullows rode away. + </p> + <p> + That two gentlemen in Her Majesty’s Bengal Civil Service should thus + discuss a third, also in that service, and a cultured and affable man + withal, seems strange and saddening. Yet listen to the artless babble of + the Blind Mullah of Jagai, the priest of the Khusru Kheyl, sitting upon a + rock overlooking the Border. Five years before, a chance-hurled shell from + a screw-gun battery had dashed earth in the face of the Mullah, then + urging a rush of Ghazis against half a dozen British bayonets. So he + became blind, and hated the English none the less for the little accident. + Yardley-Orde knew his failing, and had many times laughed at him therefor. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dogs you are,’ said the Blind Mullah to the listening tribesmen round the + fire. ‘Whipped dogs! Because you listened to Orde Sahib and called him + father and behaved as his children, the British Government have proven how + they regard you. Orde Sahib ye know is dead.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ai! ai! ai!’ said half a dozen voices. + </p> + <p> + ‘He was a man. Comes now in his stead, whom think ye? A Bengali of Bengal—an + eater of fish from the South.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A lie!’ said Khoda Dad Khan. ‘And but for the small matter of thy + priesthood, I’d drive my gun butt-first down thy throat.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oho, art thou there, lickspittle of the English? Go in to-morrow across + the Border to pay service to Orde Sahib’s successor, and thou shalt slip + thy shoes at the tent-door of a Bengali, as thou shalt hand thy offering + to a Bengali’s black fist. This I know; and in my youth, when a young man + spoke evil to a Mullah holding the doors of Heaven and Hell, the gun-butt + was not rammed down the Mullah’s gullet. No!’ + </p> + <p> + The Blind Mullah hated Khoda Dad Khan with Afghan hatred; both being + rivals for the headship of the tribe; but the latter was feared for bodily + as the other for spiritual gifts. Khoda Dad Khan looked at Orde’s ring and + grunted, ‘I go in to-morrow because I am not an old fool, preaching war + against the English. If the Government, smitten with madness, have done + this, then...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then,’ croaked the Mullah, ‘thou wilt take out the young men and strike + at the four villages within the Border?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Or wring thy neck, black raven of Jehannum, for a bearer of ill-tidings.’ + </p> + <p> + Khoda Dad Khan oiled his long locks with great care, put on his best + Bokhara belt, a new turban-cap and fine green shoes, and accompanied by a + few friends came down from the hills to pay a visit to the new Deputy + Commissioner of Kot-Kumharsen. Also he bore tribute—four or five + priceless gold mohurs of Akbar’s time in a white handkerchief. These the + Deputy Commissioner would touch and remit. The little ceremony used to be + a sign that, so far as Khoda Dad Khan’s personal influence went, the + Khusru Kheyl would be good boys,—till the next time; especially if + Khoda Dad Khan happened to like the new Deputy Commissioner. In + Yardley-Orde’s consulship his visit concluded with a sumptuous dinner and + perhaps forbidden liquors; certainly with some wonderful tales and great + good-fellowship. Then Khoda Dad Khan would swagger back to his hold, + vowing that Orde Sahib was one prince and Tallantire Sahib another, and + that whosoever went a-raiding into British territory would be flayed + alive. On this occasion he found the Deputy Commissioner’s tents looking + much as usual. Regarding himself as privileged he strode through the open + door to confont a suave, portly Bengali in English costume writing at a + table. Unversed in the elevating influence of education, and not in the + least caring for university degrees, Khoda Dad Khan promptly set the man + down for a Babu—the native clerk of the Deputy Commissioner—a + hated and despised animal. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ugh!’ said he cheerfully. ‘Where’s your master, Babujee?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am the Deputy Commissioner,’ said the gentleman in English. Now he + overvalued the effects of university degrees, and stared Khoda Dad Khan in + the face. But if from your earliest infancy you have been accustomed to + look on battle, murder, and sudden death, if spilt blood affects your + nerves as much as red paint, and, above all, if you have faithfully + believed that the Bengali was the servant of all Hindustan, and that all + Hindustan was vastly inferior to your own large, lustful self, you can + endure, even though uneducated, a very large amount of looking over. You + can even stare down a graduate of an Oxford college if the latter has been + born in a hothouse, of stock bred in a hothouse, and fearing physical pain + as some men fear sin; especially if your opponent’s mother has frightened + him to sleep in his youth with horrible stories of devils inhabiting + Afghanistan, and dismal legends of the black North. The eyes behind the + gold spectacles sought the floor. Khoda Dad Khan chuckled, and swung out + to find Tallantire hard by. ‘Here,’ said he roughly, thrusting the coins + before him, ‘touch and remit. That answers for MY good behaviour. But, O + Sahib, has the Government gone mad to send a black Bengali dog to us? And + am I to pay service to such an one? And are you to work under him? What + does it mean?’ ‘It is an order,’ said Tallantire. He had expected + something of this kind. ‘He is a very clever S-sahib.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He a Sahib! He’s a kala admi—a black man—unfit to run at the + tail of a potter’s donkey. All the peoples of the earth have harried + Bengal. It is written. Thou knowest when we of the North wanted women or + plunder whither went we? To Bengal—where else? What child’s talk is + this of Sahibdom—after Orde Sahib too! Of a truth the Blind Mullah + was right.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What of him?’ asked Tallantire uneasily. He mistrusted that old man with + his dead eyes and his deadly tongue. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay, now, because of the oath that I sware to Orde Sahib when we watched + him die by the river yonder, I will tell. In the first place, is it true + that the English have set the heel of the Bengali on their own neck, and + that there is no more English rule in the land?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am here,’ said Tallantire, ‘and I serve the Maharanee of England.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Mullah said otherwise, and further that because we loved Orde Sahib + the Government sent us a pig to show that we were dogs, who till now have + been held by the strong hand. Also that they were taking away the white + soldiers, that more Hindustanis might come, and that all was changing.’ + </p> + <p> + This is the worst of ill-considered handling of a very large country. What + looks so feasible in Calcutta, so right in Bombay, so unassailable in + Madras, is misunderstood by the North and entirely changes its complexion + on the banks of the Indus. Khoda Dad Khan explained as clearly as he could + that, though he himself intended to be good, he really could not answer + for the more reckless members of his tribe under the leadership of the + Blind Mullah. They might or they might not give trouble, but they + certainly had no intention whatever of obeying the new Deputy + Commissioner. Was Tallantire perfectly sure that in the event of any + systematic border-raiding the force in the district could put it down + promptly? + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell the Mullah if he talks any more fool’s talk,’ said Tallantire + curtly, ‘that he takes his men on to certain death, and his tribe to + blockade, trespass-fine, and blood-money. But why do I talk to one who no + longer carries weight in the counsels of the tribe?’ + </p> + <p> + Khoda Dad Khan pocketed that insult. He had learned something that he much + wanted to know, and returned to his hills to be sarcastically complimented + by the Mullah, whose tongue raging round the camp-fires was deadlier flame + than ever dung-cake fed. + </p> + <h3> + IV + </h3> + <p> + Be pleased to consider here for a moment the unknown district of + Kot-Kumharsen. It lay cut lengthways by the Indus under the line of the + Khusru hills—ramparts of useless earth and tumbled stone. It was + seventy miles long by fifty broad, maintained a population of something + less than two hundred thousand, and paid taxes to the extent of forty + thousand pounds a year on an area that was by rather more than half sheer, + hopeless waste. The cultivators were not gentle people, the miners for + salt were less gentle still, and the cattle-breeders least gentle of all. + A police-post in the top right-hand corner and a tiny mud fort in the top + left-hand corner prevented as much salt-smuggling and cattle-lifting as + the influence of the civilians could not put down; and in the bottom + right-hand corner lay Jumala, the district headquarters—a pitiful + knot of lime-washed barns facetiously rented as houses, reeking with + frontier fever, leaking in the rain, and ovens in the summer. + </p> + <p> + It was to this place that Grish Chunder De was travelling, there formally + to take over charge of the district. But the news of his coming had gone + before. Bengalis were as scarce as poodles among the simple Borderers, who + cut each other’s heads open with their long spades and worshipped + impartially at Hindu and Mahomedan shrines. They crowded to see him, + pointing at him, and diversely comparing him to a gravid milch-buffalo, or + a broken-down horse, as their limited range of metaphor prompted. They + laughed at his police-guard, and wished to know how long the burly Sikhs + were going to lead Bengali apes. They inquired whether he had brought his + women with him, and advised him explicitly not to tamper with theirs. It + remained for a wrinkled hag by the roadside to slap her lean breasts as he + passed, crying, ‘I have suckled six that could have eaten six thousand of + HIM. The Government shot them, and made this That a king!’ Whereat a + blue-turbaned huge-boned plough-mender shouted, ‘Have hope, mother o’ + mine! He may yet go the way of thy wastrels.’ And the children, the little + brown puff-balls, regarded curiously. It was generally a good thing for + infancy to stray into Orde Sahib’s tent, where copper coins were to be won + for the mere wishing, and tales of the most authentic, such as even their + mothers knew but the first half of. No! This fat black man could never + tell them how Pir Prith hauled the eye-teeth out of ten devils; how the + big stones came to lie all in a row on top of the Khusru hills, and what + happened if you shouted through the village-gate to the gray wolf at even + ‘Badl Khas is dead.’ Meantime Grish Chunder De talked hastily and much to + Tallantire, after the manner of those who are ‘more English than the + English,’—of Oxford and ‘home,’ with much curious book-knowledge of + bump-suppers, cricket-matches, hunting-runs, and other unholy sports of + the alien. ‘We must get these fellows in hand,’ he said once or twice + uneasily; ‘get them well in hand, and drive them on a tight rein. No use, + you know, being slack with your district.’ + </p> + <p> + And a moment later Tallantire heard Debendra Nath De, who brotherliwise + had followed his kinsman’s fortune and hoped for the shadow of his + protection as a pleader, whisper in Bengali, ‘Better are dried fish at + Dacca than drawn swords at Delhi. Brother of mine, these men are devils, + as our mother said. And you will always have to ride upon a horse!’ + </p> + <p> + That night there was a public audience in a broken-down little town thirty + miles from Jumala, when the new Deputy Commissioner, in reply to the + greetings of the subordinate native officials, delivered a speech. It was + a carefully thought-out speech, which would have been very valuable had + not his third sentence begun with three innocent words, ‘Hamara hookum hai—It + is my order.’ Then there was a laugh, clear and bell-like, from the back + of the big tent, where a few border landholders sat, and the laugh grew + and scorn mingled with it, and the lean, keen face of Debendra Nath De + paled, and Grish Chunder turning to Tallantire spake: ‘YOU—you put + up this arrangement.’ Upon that instant the noise of hoofs rang without, + and there entered Curbar, the District Superintendent of Police, sweating + and dusty. The State had tossed him into a corner of the province for + seventeen weary years, there to check smuggling of salt, and to hope for + promotion that never came. He had forgotten how to keep his white uniform + clean, had screwed rusty spurs into patent-leather shoes, and clothed his + head indifferently with a helmet or a turban. Soured, old, worn with heat + and cold, he waited till he should be entitled to sufficient pension to + keep him from starving. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tallantire,’ said he, disregarding Grish Chunder De, ‘come outside. I + want to speak to you.’ They withdrew. ‘It’s this,’ continued Curbar. ‘The + Khusru Kheyl have rushed and cut up half a dozen of the coolies on + Ferris’s new canal-embankment; killed a couple of men and carried off a + woman. I wouldn’t trouble you about that—Ferris is after them and + Hugonin, my assistant, with ten mounted police. But that’s only the + beginning, I fancy. Their fires are out on the Hassan Ardeb heights, and + unless we’re pretty quick there’ll be a flare-up all along our Border. + They are sure to raid the four Khusru villages on our side of the line; + there’s been bad blood between them for years; and you know the Blind + Mullah has been preaching a holy war since Orde went out. What’s your + notion?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Damn!’ said Tallantire thoughtfully. ‘They’ve begun quick. Well, it seems + to me I’d better ride off to Fort Ziar and get what men I can there to + picket among the lowland villages, if it’s not too late. Tommy Dodd + commands at Fort Ziar, I think. Ferris and Hugonin ought to teach the + canal-thieves a lesson, and—No, we can’t have the Head of the Police + ostentatiously guarding the Treasury. You go back to the canal. I’ll wire + Bullows to come into Jumala with a strong police-guard, and sit on the + Treasury. They won’t touch the place, but it looks well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I—I—I insist upon knowing what this means,’ said the voice of + the Deputy Commissioner, who had followed the speakers. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ said Curbar, who being in the Police could not understand that + fifteen years of education must, on principle, change the Bengali into a + Briton. ‘There has been a fight on the Border, and heaps of men are + killed. There’s going to be another fight, and heaps more will be killed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What for?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because the teeming millions of this district don’t exactly approve of + you, and think that under your benign rule they are going to have a good + time. It strikes me that you had better make arrangements. I act, as you + know, by your orders. What do you advise?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I—I take you all to witness that I have not yet assumed charge of + the district,’ stammered the Deputy Commissioner, not in the tones of the + ‘more English.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, I thought so. Well, as I was saying, Tallantire, your plan is sound. + Carry it out. Do you want an escort?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No; only a decent horse. But how about wiring to headquarters?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I fancy, from the colour of his cheeks, that your superior officer will + send some wonderful telegrams before the night’s over. Let him do that, + and we shall have half the troops of the province coming up to see what’s + the trouble. Well, run along, and take care of yourself—the Khusru + Kheyl jab upwards from below, remember. Ho! Mir Khan, give Tallantire + Sahib the best of the horses, and tell five men to ride to Jumala with the + Deputy Commissioner Sahib Bahadur. There is a hurry toward.’ + </p> + <p> + There was; and it was not in the least bettered by Debendra Nath De + clinging to a policeman’s bridle and demanding the shortest, the very + shortest way to Jumala. Now originality is fatal to the Bengali. Debendra + Nath should have stayed with his brother, who rode steadfastly for Jumala + on the railway-line, thanking gods entirely unknown to the most catholic + of universities that he had not taken charge of the district, and could + still—happy resource of a fertile race!—fall sick. + </p> + <p> + And I grieve to say that when he reached his goal two policemen, not + devoid of rude wit, who had been conferring together as they bumped in + their saddles, arranged an entertainment for his behoof. It consisted of + first one and then the other entering his room with prodigious details of + war, the massing of bloodthirsty and devilish tribes, and the burning of + towns. It was almost as good, said these scamps, as riding with Curbar + after evasive Afghans. Each invention kept the hearer at work for half an + hour on telegrams which the sack of Delhi would hardly have justified. To + every power that could move a bayonet or transfer a terrified man, Grish + Chunder De appealed telegraphically. He was alone, his assistants had + fled, and in truth he had not taken over charge of the district. Had the + telegrams been despatched many things would have occurred; but since the + only signaller in Jumala had gone to bed, and the station-master, after + one look at the tremendous pile of paper, discovered that railway + regulations forbade the forwarding of imperial messages, policemen Ram + Singh and Nihal Singh were fain to turn the stuff into a pillow and slept + on it very comfortably. + </p> + <p> + Tallantire drove his spurs into a rampant skewbald stallion with + china-blue eyes, and settled himself for the forty-mile ride to Fort Ziar. + Knowing his district blindfold, he wasted no time hunting for short cuts, + but headed across the richer grazing-ground to the ford where Orde had + died and been buried. The dusty ground deadened the noise of his horse’s + hoofs, the moon threw his shadow, a restless goblin, before him, and the + heavy dew drenched him to the skin. Hillock, scrub that brushed against + the horse’s belly, unmetalled road where the whip-like foliage of the + tamarisks lashed his forehead, illimitable levels of lowland furred with + bent and speckled with drowsing cattle, waste, and hillock anew, dragged + themselves past, and the skewbald was labouring in the deep sand of the + Indus-ford. Tallantire was conscious of no distinct thought till the nose + of the dawdling ferry-boat grounded on the farther side, and his horse + shied snorting at the white headstone of Orde’s grave. Then he uncovered, + and shouted that the dead might hear, ‘They’re out, old man! Wish me + luck.’ In the chill of the dawn he was hammering with a stirrup-iron at + the gate of Fort Ziar, where fifty sabres of that tattered regiment, the + Belooch Beshaklis were supposed to guard Her Majesty’s interests along a + few hundred miles of Border. This particular fort was commanded by a + subaltern, who, born of the ancient family of the Derouletts, naturally + answered to the name of Tommy Dodd. Him Tallantire found robed in a + sheepskin coat, shaking with fever like an aspen, and trying to read the + native apothecary’s list of invalids. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you’ve come, too,’ said he. ‘Well, we’re all sick here, and I don’t + think I can horse thirty men; but we’re bub—bub—bub blessed + willing. Stop, does this impress you as a trap or a lie?’ He tossed a + scrap of paper to Tallantire, on which was written painfully in crabbed + Gurmukhi, ‘We cannot hold young horses. They will feed after the moon goes + down in the four border villages issuing from the Jagai pass on the next + night.’ Then in English round hand—‘Your sincere friend.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good man!’ said Tallantire. ‘That’s Khoda Dad Khan’s work, I know. It’s + the only piece of English he could ever keep in his head, and he is + immensely proud of it. He is playing against the Blind Mullah for his own + hand—the treacherous young ruffian!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t know the politics of the Khusru Kheyl, but if you’re satisfied, I + am. That was pitched in over the gate-head last night, and I thought we + might pull ourselves together and see what was on. Oh, but we’re sick with + fever here and no mistake! Is this going to be a big business, think you?’ + said Tommy Dodd. + </p> + <p> + Tallantire gave him briefly the outlines of the case, and Tommy Dodd + whistled and shook with fever alternately. That day he devoted to + strategy, the art of war, and the enlivenment of the invalids, till at + dusk there stood ready forty-two troopers, lean, worn, and dishevelled, + whom Tommy Dodd surveyed with pride, and addressed thus: ‘O men! If you + die you will go to Hell. Therefore endeavour to keep alive. But if you go + to Hell that place cannot be hotter than this place, and we are not told + that we shall there suffer from fever. Consequently be not afraid of + dying. File out there!’ They grinned, and went. + </p> + <h3> + V + </h3> + <p> + It will be long ere the Khusru Kheyl forget their night attack on the + lowland villages. The Mullah had promised an easy victory and unlimited + plunder; but behold, armed troopers of the Queen had risen out of the very + earth, cutting, slashing, and riding down under the stars, so that no man + knew where to turn, and all feared that they had brought an army about + their ears, and ran back to the hills. In the panic of that flight more + men were seen to drop from wounds inflicted by an Afghan knife jabbed + upwards, and yet more from long-range carbine-fire. Then there rose a cry + of treachery, and when they reached their own guarded heights, they had + left, with some forty dead and sixty wounded, all their confidence in the + Blind Mullah on the plains below. They clamoured, swore, and argued round + the fires; the women wailing for the lost, and the Mullah shrieking curses + on the returned. + </p> + <p> + Then Khoda Dad Khan, eloquent and unbreathed, for he had taken no part in + the fight, rose to improve the occasion. He pointed out that the tribe + owed every item of its present misfortune to the Blind Mullah, who had + lied in every possible particular and talked them into a trap. It was + undoubtedly an insult that a Bengali, the son of a Bengali, should presume + to administer the Border, but that fact did not, as the Mullah pretended, + herald a general time of license and lifting; and the inexplicable madness + of the English had not in the least impaired their power of guarding their + marches. On the contrary, the baffled and out-generalled tribe would now, + just when their food-stock was lowest, be blockaded from any trade with + Hindustan until they had sent hostages for good behaviour, paid + compensation for disturbance, and blood-money at the rate of thirty-six + English pounds per head for every villager that they might have slain. + ‘And ye know that those lowland dogs will make oath that we have slain + scores. Will the Mullah pay the fines or must we sell our guns?’ A low + growl ran round the fires. ‘Now, seeing that all this is the Mullah’s + work, and that we have gained nothing but promises of Paradise thereby, it + is in my heart that we of the Khusru Kheyl lack a shrine whereat to pray. + We are weakened, and henceforth how shall we dare to cross into the Madar + Kheyl border, as has been our custom, to kneel to Pir Sajji’s tomb? The + Madar men will fall upon us, and rightly. But our Mullah is a holy man. He + has helped two score of us into Paradise this night. Let him therefore + accompany his flock, and we will build over his body a dome of the blue + tiles of Mooltan, and burn lamps at his feet every Friday night. He shall + be a saint: we shall have a shrine; and there our women shall pray for + fresh seed to fill the gaps in our fighting-tale. How think you?’ + </p> + <p> + A grim chuckle followed the suggestion, and the soft wheep, wheep of + unscabbarded knives followed the chuckle. It was an excellent notion, and + met a long felt want of the tribe. The Mullah sprang to his feet, glaring + with withered eyeballs at the drawn death he could not see, and calling + down the curses of God and Mahomed on the tribe. Then began a game of + blind man’s buff round and between the fires, whereof Khuruk Shah, the + tribal poet, has sung in verse that will not die. + </p> + <p> + They tickled him gently under the armpit with the knife-point. He leaped + aside screaming, only to feel a cold blade drawn lightly over the back of + his neck, or a rifle-muzzle rubbing his beard. He called on his adherents + to aid him, but most of these lay dead on the plains, for Khoda Dad Khan + had been at some pains to arrange their decease. Men described to him the + glories of the shrine they would build, and the little children clapping + their hands cried, ‘Run, Mullah, run! There’s a man behind you!’ In the + end, when the sport wearied, Khoda Dad Khan’s brother sent a knife home + between his ribs. ‘Wherefore,’ said Khoda Dad Khan with charming + simplicity, ‘I am now Chief of the Khusru Kheyl!’ No man gainsaid him; and + they all went to sleep very stiff and sore. + </p> + <p> + On the plain below Tommy Dodd was lecturing on the beauties of a cavalry + charge by night, and Tallantire, bowed on his saddle, was gasping + hysterically because there was a sword dangling from his wrist flecked + with the blood of the Khusru Kheyl, the tribe that Orde had kept in leash + so well. When a Rajpoot trooper pointed out that the skewbald’s right ear + had been taken off at the root by some blind slash of its unskilled rider, + Tallantire broke down altogether, and laughed and sobbed till Tommy Dodd + made him lie down and rest. + </p> + <p> + ‘We must wait about till the morning,’ said he. ‘I wired to the Colonel + just before we left, to send a wing of the Beshaklis after us. He’ll be + furious with me for monopolising the fun, though. Those beggars in the + hills won’t give us any more trouble.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then tell the Beshaklis to go on and see what has happened to Curbar on + the canal. We must patrol the whole line of the Border. You’re quite sure, + Tommy, that—that stuff was—was only the skewbald’s ear?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, quite,’ said Tommy. ‘You just missed cutting off his head. <i>I</i> + saw you when we went into the mess. Sleep, old man.’ + </p> + <p> + Noon brought two squadrons of Beshaklis and a knot of furious brother + officers demanding the court-martial of Tommy Dodd for ‘spoiling the + picnic,’ and a gallop across country to the canal-works where Ferris, + Curbar, and Hugonin were haranguing the terror-stricken coolies on the + enormity of abandoning good work and high pay, merely because half a dozen + of their fellows had been cut down. The sight of a troop of the Beshaklis + restored wavering confidence, and the police-hunted section of the Khusru + Kheyl had the joy of watching the canal-bank humming with life as usual, + while such of their men as had taken refuge in the watercourses and + ravines were being driven out by the troopers. By sundown began the + remorseless patrol of the Border by police and trooper, most like the + cow-boys’ eternal ride round restless cattle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Khoda Dad Khan to his fellows, pointing out a line of + twinkling fires below, ‘ye may see how far the old order changes. After + their horse will come the little devil-guns that they can drag up to the + tops of the hills, and, for aught I know, to the clouds when we crown the + hills. If the tribe-council thinks good, I will go to Tallantire Sahib—who + loves me—and see if I can stave off at least the blockade. Do I + speak for the tribe?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay, speak for the tribe in God’s name. How those accursed fires wink! Do + the English send their troops on the wire—or is this the work of the + Bengali?’ + </p> + <p> + As Khoda Dad Khan went down the hill he was delayed by an interview with a + hard-pressed tribesman, which caused him to return hastily for something + he had forgotten. Then, handing himself over to the two troopers who had + been chasing his friend, he claimed escort to Tallantire Sahib, then with + Bullows at Jumala. The Border was safe, and the time for reasons in + writing had begun. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank Heaven!’ said Bullows, ‘that the trouble came at once. Of course we + can never put down the reason in black and white, but all India will + understand. And it is better to have a sharp short outbreak than five + years of impotent administration inside the Border. It costs less. Grish + Chunder De has reported himself sick, and has been transferred to his own + province without any sort of reprimand. He was strong on not having taken + over the district.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course,’ said Tallantire bitterly. ‘Well, what am I supposed to have + done that was wrong?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you will be told that you exceeded all your powers, and should have + reported, and written, and advised for three weeks until the Khusru Kheyl + could really come down in force. But I don’t think the authorities will + dare to make a fuss about it. They’ve had their lesson. Have you seen + Curbar’s version of the affair? He can’t write a report, but he can speak + the truth.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the use of the truth? He’d much better tear up the report. I’m + sick and heartbroken over it all. It was so utterly unnecessary—except + in that it rid us of that Babu.’ + </p> + <p> + Entered unabashed Khoda Dad Khan, a stuffed forage-net in his hand, and + the troopers behind him. + </p> + <p> + ‘May you never be tired!’ said he cheerily. ‘Well, Sahibs, that was a good + fight, and Naim Shah’s mother is in debt to you, Tallantire Sahib. A clean + cut, they tell me, through jaw, wadded coat, and deep into the + collar-bone. Well done! But I speak for the tribe. There has been a fault—a + great fault. Thou knowest that I and mine, Tallantire Sahib, kept the oath + we sware to Orde Sahib on the banks of the Indus.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As an Afghan keeps his knife—sharp on one side, blunt on the + other,’ said Tallantire. + </p> + <p> + ‘The better swing in the blow, then. But I speak God’s truth. Only the + Blind Mullah carried the young men on the tip of his tongue, and said that + there was no more Border-law because a Bengali had been sent, and we need + not fear the English at all. So they came down to avenge that insult and + get plunder. Ye know what befell, and how far I helped. Now five score of + us are dead or wounded, and we are all shamed and sorry, and desire no + further war. Moreover, that ye may better listen to us, we have taken off + the head of the Blind Mullah, whose evil counsels have led us to folly. I + bring it for proof,’—and he heaved on the floor the head. ‘He will + give no more trouble, for I am chief now, and so I sit in a higher place + at all audiences. Yet there is an offset to this head. That was another + fault. One of the men found that black Bengali beast, through whom this + trouble arose, wandering on horseback and weeping. Reflecting that he had + caused loss of much good life, Alla Dad Khan, whom, if you choose, I will + to-morrow shoot, whipped off this head, and I bring it to you to cover + your shame, that ye may bury it. See, no man kept the spectacles, though + they were of gold.’ + </p> + <p> + Slowly rolled to Tallantire’s feet the crop-haired head of a spectacled + Bengali gentleman, open-eyed, open-mouthed—the head of Terror + incarnate. Bullows bent down. ‘Yet another blood-fine and a heavy one, + Khoda Dad Khan, for this is the head of Debendra Nath, the man’s brother. + The Babu is safe long since. All but the fools of the Khusru Kheyl know + that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I care not for carrion. Quick meat for me. The thing was under our + hills asking the road to Jumala and Alla Dad Khan showed him the road to + Jehannum, being, as thou sayest, but a fool. Remains now what the + Government will do to us. As to the blockade—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who art thou, seller of dog’s flesh,’ thundered Tallantire, ‘to speak of + terms and treaties? Get hence to the hills—go, and wait there + starving, till it shall please the Government to call thy people out for + punishment—children and fools that ye be! Count your dead, and be + still. Best assured that the Government will send you a MAN!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay,’ returned Khoda Dad Khan, ‘for we also be men.’ + </p> + <p> + As he looked Tallantire between the eyes, he added, ‘And by God, Sahib, + may thou be that man!’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WITHOUT BENEFIT OF CLERGY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Before my Spring I garnered Autumn’s gain, + Out of her time my field was white with grain, + The year gave up her secrets to my woe. + Forced and deflowered each sick season lay, + In mystery of increase and decay; + I saw the sunset ere men saw the day, + Who am too wise in that I should not know. + BITTER WATERS. +</pre> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p> + ‘But if it be a girl?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lord of my life, it cannot be. I have prayed for so many nights, and sent + gifts to Sheikh Badl’s shrine so often, that I know God will give us a son—a + man-child that shall grow into a man. Think of this and be glad. My mother + shall be his mother till I can take him again, and the mullah of the + Pattan mosque shall cast his nativity—God send he be born in an + auspicious hour!—and then, and then thou wilt never weary of me, thy + slave.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Since when hast thou been a slave, my queen?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Since the beginning—till this mercy came to me. How could I be sure + of thy love when I knew that I had been bought with silver?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay, that was the dowry. I paid it to thy mother.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And she has buried it, and sits upon it all day long like a hen. What + talk is yours of dower! I was bought as though I had been a Lucknow + dancing-girl instead of a child.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Art thou sorry for the sale?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have sorrowed; but to-day I am glad. Thou wilt never cease to love me + now?—answer, my king.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never—never. No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not even though the mem-log—the white women of thy own blood—love + thee? And remember, I have watched them driving in the evening; they are + very fair.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have seen fire-balloons by the hundred. I have seen the moon, and—then + I saw no more fire-balloons.’ + </p> + <p> + Ameera clapped her hands and laughed. ‘Very good talk,’ she said. Then + with an assumption of great stateliness, ‘It is enough. Thou hast my + permission to depart,—if thou wilt.’ + </p> + <p> + The man did not move. He was sitting on a low red-lacquered couch in a + room furnished only with a blue and white floor-cloth, some rugs, and a + very complete collection of native cushions. At his feet sat a woman of + sixteen, and she was all but all the world in his eyes. By every rule and + law she should have been otherwise, for he was an Englishman, and she a + Mussulman’s daughter bought two years before from her mother, who, being + left without money, would have sold Ameera shrieking to the Prince of + Darkness if the price had been sufficient. + </p> + <p> + It was a contract entered into with a light heart; but even before the + girl had reached her bloom she came to fill the greater portion of John + Holden’s life. For her, and the withered hag her mother, he had taken a + little house overlooking the great red-walled city, and found,—when + the marigolds had sprung up by the well in the courtyard and Ameera had + established herself according to her own ideas of comfort, and her mother + had ceased grumbling at the inadequacy of the cooking-places, the distance + from the daily market, and at matters of house-keeping in general,—that + the house was to him his home. Any one could enter his bachelor’s bungalow + by day or night, and the life that he led there was an unlovely one. In + the house in the city his feet only could pass beyond the outer courtyard + to the women’s rooms; and when the big wooden gate was bolted behind him + he was king in his own territory, with Ameera for queen. And there was + going to be added to this kingdom a third person whose arrival Holden felt + inclined to resent. It interfered with his perfect happiness. It + disarranged the orderly peace of the house that was his own. But Ameera + was wild with delight at the thought of it, and her mother not less so. + The love of a man, and particularly a white man, was at the best an + inconstant affair, but it might, both women argued, be held fast by a + baby’s hands. ‘And then,’ Ameera would always say, ‘then he will never + care for the white mem-log. I hate them all—I hate them all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He will go back to his own people in time,’ said the mother; ‘but by the + blessing of God that time is yet afar off.’ + </p> + <p> + Holden sat silent on the couch thinking of the future, and his thoughts + were not pleasant. The drawbacks of a double life are manifold. The + Government, with singular care, had ordered him out of the station for a + fortnight on special duty in the place of a man who was watching by the + bedside of a sick wife. The verbal notification of the transfer had been + edged by a cheerful remark that Holden ought to think himself lucky in + being a bachelor and a free man. He came to break the news to Ameera. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is not good,’ she said slowly, ‘but it is not all bad. There is my + mother here, and no harm will come to me—unless indeed I die of pure + joy. Go thou to thy work and think no troublesome thoughts. When the days + are done I believe... nay, I am sure. And—and then I shall lay HIM + in thy arms, and thou wilt love me for ever. The train goes to-night, at + midnight is it not? Go now, and do not let thy heart be heavy by cause of + me. But thou wilt not delay in returning? Thou wilt not stay on the road + to talk to the bold white mem-log. Come back to me swiftly, my life.’ + </p> + <p> + As he left the courtyard to reach his horse that was tethered to the + gate-post, Holden spoke to the white-haired old watchman who guarded the + house, and bade him under certain contingencies despatch the filled-up + telegraph-form that Holden gave him. It was all that could be done, and + with the sensations of a man who has attended his own funeral Holden went + away by the night mail to his exile. Every hour of the day he dreaded the + arrival of the telegram, and every hour of the night he pictured to + himself the death of Ameera. In consequence his work for the State was not + of first-rate quality, nor was his temper towards his colleagues of the + most amiable. The fortnight ended without a sign from his home, and, torn + to pieces by his anxieties, Holden returned to be swallowed up for two + precious hours by a dinner at the club, wherein he heard, as a man hears + in a swoon, voices telling him how execrably he had performed the other + man’s duties, and how he had endeared himself to all his associates. Then + he fled on horseback through the night with his heart in his mouth. There + was no answer at first to his blows on the gate, and he had just wheeled + his horse round to kick it in when Pir Khan appeared with a lantern and + held his stirrup. + </p> + <p> + ‘Has aught occurred?’ said Holden. + </p> + <p> + ‘The news does not come from my mouth, Protector of the Poor, but—’ + He held out his shaking hand as befitted the bearer of good news who is + entitled to a reward. + </p> + <p> + Holden hurried through the courtyard. A light burned in the upper room. + His horse neighed in the gateway, and he heard a shrill little wail that + sent all the blood into the apple of his throat. It was a new voice, but + it did not prove that Ameera was alive. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who is there?’ he called up the narrow brick staircase. + </p> + <p> + There was a cry of delight from Ameera, and then the voice of the mother, + tremulous with old age and pride—‘We be two women and—the—man—thy—son.’ + </p> + <p> + On the threshold of the room Holden stepped on a naked dagger, that was + laid there to avert ill-luck, and it broke at the hilt under his impatient + heel. + </p> + <p> + ‘God is great!’ cooed Ameera in the half-light. ‘Thou hast taken his + misfortunes on thy head.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay, but how is it with thee, life of my life? Old woman, how is it with + her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She has forgotten her sufferings for joy that the child is born. There is + no harm; but speak softly,’ said the mother. + </p> + <p> + ‘It only needed thy presence to make me all well,’ said Ameera. ‘My king, + thou hast been very long away. What gifts hast thou for me? Ah, ah! It is + I that bring gifts this time. Look, my life, look. Was there ever such a + babe? Nay, I am too weak even to clear my arm from him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rest then, and do not talk. I am here, bachari [little woman].’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well said, for there is a bond and a heel-rope [peecharee] between us now + that nothing can break. Look—canst thou see in this light? He is + without spot or blemish. Never was such a man-child. Ya illah! he shall be + a pundit—no, a trooper of the Queen. And, my life, dost thou love me + as well as ever, though I am faint and sick and worn? Answer truly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yea. I love as I have loved, with all my soul. Lie still, pearl, and + rest.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then do not go. Sit by my side here—so. Mother, the lord of this + house needs a cushion. Bring it.’ There was an almost imperceptible + movement on the part of the new life that lay in the hollow of Ameera’s + arm. ‘Aho!’ she said, her voice breaking with love. ‘The babe is a + champion from his birth. He is kicking me in the side with mighty kicks. + Was there ever such a babe! And he is ours to us—thine and mine. Put + thy hand on his head, but carefully, for he is very young, and men are + unskilled in such matters.’ + </p> + <p> + Very cautiously Holden touched with the tips of his fingers the downy + head. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is of the faith,’ said Ameera; ‘for lying here in the night-watches I + whispered the call to prayer and the profession of faith into his ears. + And it is most marvellous that he was born upon a Friday, as I was born. + Be careful of him, my life; but he can almost grip with his hands.’ + </p> + <p> + Holden found one helpless little hand that closed feebly on his finger. + And the clutch ran through his body till it settled about his heart. Till + then his sole thought had been for Ameera. He began to realise that there + was some one else in the world, but he could not feel that it was a + veritable son with a soul. He sat down to think, and Ameera dozed lightly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Get hence, sahib,’ said her mother under her breath. ‘It is not good that + she should find you here on waking. She must be still.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I go,’ said Holden submissively. ‘Here be rupees. See that my baba gets + fat and finds all that he needs.’ + </p> + <p> + The chink of the silver roused Ameera. ‘I am his mother, and no hireling,’ + she said weakly. ‘Shall I look to him more or less for the sake of money? + Mother, give it back. I have born my lord a son.’ + </p> + <p> + The deep sleep of weakness came upon her almost before the sentence was + completed. Holden went down to the courtyard very softly with his heart at + ease. Pir Khan, the old watchman, was chuckling with delight. ‘This house + is now complete,’ he said, and without further comment thrust into + Holden’s hands the hilt of a sabre worn many years ago when he, Pir Khan, + served the Queen in the police. The bleat of a tethered goat came from the + well-kerb. + </p> + <p> + ‘There be two,’ said Pir Khan, ‘two goats of the best. I bought them, and + they cost much money; and since there is no birth-party assembled their + flesh will be all mine. Strike craftily, sahib! ‘Tis an ill-balanced sabre + at the best. Wait till they raise their heads from cropping the + marigolds.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And why?’ said Holden, bewildered. + </p> + <p> + ‘For the birth-sacrifice. What else? Otherwise the child being unguarded + from fate may die. The Protector of the Poor knows the fitting words to be + said.’ + </p> + <p> + Holden had learned them once with little thought that he would ever speak + them in earnest. The touch of the cold sabre-hilt in his palm turned + suddenly to the clinging grip of the child upstairs—the child that + was his own son—and a dread of loss filled him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Strike!’ said Pir Khan. ‘Never life came into the world but life was paid + for it. See, the goats have raised their heads. Now! With a drawing cut!’ + </p> + <p> + Hardly knowing what he did Holden cut twice as he muttered the Mahomedan + prayer that runs: ‘Almighty! In place of this my son I offer life for + life, blood for blood, head for head, bone for bone, hair for hair, skin + for skin.’ The waiting horse snorted and bounded in his pickets at the + smell of the raw blood that spirted over Holden’s riding-boots. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well smitten!’ said Pir Khan, wiping the sabre. ‘A swordsman was lost in + thee. Go with a light heart, Heaven-born. I am thy servant, and the + servant of thy son. May the Presence live a thousand years and... the + flesh of the goats is all mine?’ Pir Khan drew back richer by a month’s + pay. Holden swung himself into the saddle and rode off through the + low-hanging wood-smoke of the evening. He was full of riotous exultation, + alternating with a vast vague tenderness directed towards no particular + object, that made him choke as he bent over the neck of his uneasy horse. + ‘I never felt like this in my life,’ he thought. ‘I’ll go to the club and + pull myself together.’ + </p> + <p> + A game of pool was beginning, and the room was full of men. Holden + entered, eager to get to the light and the company of his fellows, singing + at the top of his voice— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In Baltimore a-walking, a lady I did meet! +</pre> + <p> + ‘Did you?’ said the club-secretary from his corner. ‘Did she happen to + tell you that your boots were wringing wet? Great goodness, man, it’s + blood!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bosh!’ said Holden, picking his cue from the rack. ‘May I cut in? It’s + dew. I’ve been riding through high crops. My faith! my boots are in a mess + though! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘And if it be a girl she shall wear a wedding-ring, + And if it be a boy he shall fight for his king, + With his dirk, and his cap, and his little jacket blue, + He shall walk the quarter-deck—’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘Yellow on blue—green next player,’ said the marker monotonously. + </p> + <p> + ‘He shall walk the quarter-deck,—Am I green, marker? He shall walk + the quarter-deck,—eh! that’s a bad shot,—As his daddy used to + do!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t see that you have anything to crow about,’ said a zealous junior + civilian acidly. ‘The Government is not exactly pleased with your work + when you relieved Sanders.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does that mean a wigging from headquarters?’ said Holden with an + abstracted smile. ‘I think I can stand it.’ + </p> + <p> + The talk beat up round the ever-fresh subject of each man’s work, and + steadied Holden till it was time to go to his dark empty bungalow, where + his butler received him as one who knew all his affairs. Holden remained + awake for the greater part of the night, and his dreams were pleasant + ones. + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p> + ‘How old is he now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ya illah! What a man’s question! He is all but six weeks old; and on this + night I go up to the housetop with thee, my life, to count the stars. For + that is auspicious. And he was born on a Friday under the sign of the Sun, + and it has been told to me that he will outlive us both and get wealth. + Can we wish for aught better, beloved?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is nothing better. Let us go up to the roof, and thou shalt count + the stars—but a few only, for the sky is heavy with cloud.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The winter rains are late, and maybe they come out of season. Come, + before all the stars are hid. I have put on my richest jewels.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thou hast forgotten the best of all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ai! Ours. He comes also. He has never yet seen the skies.’ + </p> + <p> + Ameera climbed the narrow staircase that led to the flat roof. The child, + placid and unwinking, lay in the hollow of her right arm, gorgeous in + silver-fringed muslin with a small skull-cap on his head. Ameera wore all + that she valued most. The diamond nose-stud that takes the place of the + Western patch in drawing attention to the curve of the nostril, the gold + ornament in the centre of the forehead studded with tallow-drop emeralds + and flawed rubies, the heavy circlet of beaten gold that was fastened + round her neck by the softness of the pure metal, and the chinking + curb-patterned silver anklets hanging low over the rosy ankle-bone. She + was dressed in jade-green muslin as befitted a daughter of the Faith, and + from shoulder to elbow and elbow to wrist ran bracelets of silver tied + with floss silk, frail glass bangles slipped over the wrist in proof of + the slenderness of the hand, and certain heavy gold bracelets that had no + part in her country’s ornaments but, since they were Holden’s gift and + fastened with a cunning European snap, delighted her immensely. + </p> + <p> + They sat down by the low white parapet of the roof, overlooking the city + and its lights. + </p> + <p> + ‘They are happy down there,’ said Ameera. ‘But I do not think that they + are as happy as we. Nor do I think the white mem-log are as happy. And + thou?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know they are not.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How dost thou know?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They give their children over to the nurses.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have never seen that,’ said Ameera with a sigh, ‘nor do I wish to see. + Ahi!—she dropped her head on Holden’s shoulder,—‘I have + counted forty stars, and I am tired. Look at the child, love of my life, + he is counting too.’ + </p> + <p> + The baby was staring with round eyes at the dark of the heavens. Ameera + placed him in Holden’s arms, and he lay there without a cry. + </p> + <p> + ‘What shall we call him among ourselves?’ she said. ‘Look! Art thou ever + tired of looking? He carries thy very eyes. But the mouth—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is thine, most dear. Who should know better than I?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘’Tis such a feeble mouth. Oh, so small! And yet it holds my heart between + its lips. Give him to me now. He has been too long away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay, let him lie; he has not yet begun to cry.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘When he cries thou wilt give him back—eh? What a man of mankind + thou art! If he cried he were only the dearer to me. But, my life, what + little name shall we give him?’ + </p> + <p> + The small body lay close to Holden’s heart. It was utterly helpless and + very soft. He scarcely dared to breathe for fear of crushing it. The caged + green parrot that is regarded as a sort of guardian-spirit in most native + households moved on its perch and fluttered a drowsy wing. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is the answer,’ said Holden. ‘Mian Mittu has spoken. He shall be + the parrot. When he is ready he will talk mightily and run about. Mian + Mittu is the parrot in thy—in the Mussulman tongue, is it not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why put me so far off?’ said Ameera fretfully. ‘Let it be like unto some + English name—but not wholly. For he is mine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then call him Tota, for that is likest English.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay, Tota, and that is still the parrot. Forgive me, my lord, for a minute + ago, but in truth he is too little to wear all the weight of Mian Mittu + for name. He shall be Tota—our Tota to us. Hearest thou, O small + one? Littlest, thou art Tota.’ She touched the child’s cheek, and he + waking wailed, and it was necessary to return him to his mother, who + soothed him with the wonderful rhyme of Are koko, Jare koko! which says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh crow! Go crow! Baby’s sleeping sound, + And the wild plums grow in the jungle, only a penny a pound. + Only a penny a pound, baba, only a penny a pound. +</pre> + <p> + Reassured many times as to the price of those plums, Tota cuddled himself + down to sleep. The two sleek, white well-bullocks in the courtyard were + steadily chewing the cud of their evening meal; old Pir Khan squatted at + the head of Holden’s horse, his police sabre across his knees, pulling + drowsily at a big water-pipe that croaked like a bull-frog in a pond. + Ameera’s mother sat spinning in the lower verandah, and the wooden gate + was shut and barred. The music of a marriage-procession came to the roof + above the gentle hum of the city, and a string of flying-foxes crossed the + face of the low moon. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have prayed,’ said Ameera after a long pause, ‘I have prayed for two + things. First, that I may die in thy stead if thy death is demanded, and + in the second that I may die in the place of the child. I have prayed to + the Prophet and to Beebee Miriam [the Virgin Mary]. Thinkest thou either + will hear?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘From thy lips who would not hear the lightest word?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I asked for straight talk, and thou hast given me sweet talk. Will my + prayers be heard?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How can I say? God is very good.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of that I am not sure. Listen now. When I die, or the child dies, what is + thy fate? Living, thou wilt return to the bold white mem-log, for kind + calls to kind.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not always.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With a woman, no; with a man it is otherwise. Thou wilt in this life, + later on, go back to thine own folk. That I could almost endure, for I + should be dead. But in thy very death thou wilt be taken away to a strange + place and a paradise that I do not know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will it be paradise?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely, for who would harm thee? But we two—I and the child—shall + be elsewhere, and we cannot come to thee, nor canst thou come to us. In + the old days, before the child was born, I did not think of these things; + but now I think of them always. It is very hard talk.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It will fall as it will fall. To-morrow we do not know, but to-day and + love we know well. Surely we are happy now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So happy that it were well to make our happiness assured. And thy Beebee + Miriam should listen to me; for she is also a woman. But then she would + envy me! It is not seemly for men to worship a woman.’ + </p> + <p> + Holden laughed aloud at Ameera’s little spasm of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it not seemly? Why didst thou not turn me from worship of thee, then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thou a worshipper! And of me? My king, for all thy sweet words, well I + know that I am thy servant and thy slave, and the dust under thy feet. And + I would not have it otherwise. See!’ + </p> + <p> + Before Holden could prevent her she stooped forward and touched his feet; + recovering herself with a little laugh she hugged Tota closer to her + bosom. Then, almost savagely— + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it true that the bold white mem-log live for three times the length of + my life? Is it true that they make their marriages not before they are old + women?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They marry as do others—when they are women.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That I know, but they wed when they are twenty-five. Is that true?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is true.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ya illah! At twenty-five! Who would of his own will take a wife even of + eighteen? She is a woman—aging every hour. Twenty-five! I shall be + an old woman at that age, and—Those mem-log remain young for ever. + How I hate them!’ ‘What have they to do with us?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot tell. I know only that there may now be alive on this earth a + woman ten years older than I who may come to thee and take thy love ten + years after I am an old woman, gray-headed, and the nurse of Tota’s son. + That is unjust and evil. They should die too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, for all thy years thou art a child, and shalt be picked up and + carried down the staircase.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tota! Have a care for Tota, my lord! Thou at least art as foolish as any + babe!’ Ameera tucked Tota out of harm’s way in the hollow of her neck, and + was carried downstairs laughing in Holden’s arms, while Tota opened his + eyes and smiled after the manner of the lesser angels. + </p> + <p> + He was a silent infant, and, almost before Holden could realise that he + was in the world, developed into a small gold-coloured little god and + unquestioned despot of the house overlooking the city. Those were months + of absolute happiness to Holden and Ameera—happiness withdrawn from + the world, shut in behind the wooden gate that Pir Khan guarded. By day + Holden did his work with an immense pity for such as were not so fortunate + as himself, and a sympathy for small children that amazed and amused many + mothers at the little station-gatherings. At nightfall he returned to + Ameera,—Ameera, full of the wondrous doings of Tota; how he had been + seen to clap his hands together and move his fingers with intention and + purpose—which was manifestly a miracle—how later, he had of + his own initiative crawled out of his low bedstead on to the floor and + swayed on both feet for the space of three breaths. + </p> + <p> + ‘And they were long breaths, for my heart stood still with delight,’ said + Ameera. + </p> + <p> + Then Tota took the beasts into his councils—the well-bullocks, the + little gray squirrels, the mongoose that lived in a hole near the well, + and especially Mian Mittu, the parrot, whose tail he grievously pulled, + and Mian Mittu screamed till Ameera and Holden arrived. + </p> + <p> + ‘O villain! Child of strength! This to thy brother on the house-top! + Tobah, tobah! Fie! Fie! But I know a charm to make him wise as Suleiman + and Aflatoun [Solomon and Plato]. Now look,’ said Ameera. She drew from an + embroidered bag a handful of almonds. ‘See! we count seven. In the name of + God!’ + </p> + <p> + She placed Mian Mittu, very angry and rumpled, on the top of his cage, and + seating herself between the babe and the bird she cracked and peeled an + almond less white than her teeth. ‘This is a true charm, my life, and do + not laugh. See! I give the parrot one half and Tota the other.’ Mian Mittu + with careful beak took his share from between Ameera’s lips, and she + kissed the other half into the mouth of the child, who ate it slowly with + wondering eyes. ‘This I will do each day of seven, and without doubt he + who is ours will be a bold speaker and wise. Eh, Tota, what wilt thou be + when thou art a man and I am gray-headed?’ Tota tucked his fat legs into + adorable creases. He could crawl, but he was not going to waste the spring + of his youth in idle speech. He wanted Mian Mittu’s tail to tweak. + </p> + <p> + When he was advanced to the dignity of a silver belt—which, with a + magic square engraved on silver and hung round his neck, made up the + greater part of his clothing—he staggered on a perilous journey down + the garden to Pir Khan and proffered him all his jewels in exchange for + one little ride on Holden’s horse, having seen his mother’s mother + chaffering with pedlars in the verandah. Pir Khan wept and set the untried + feet on his own gray head in sign of fealty, and brought the bold + adventurer to his mother’s arms, vowing that Tota would be a leader of men + ere his beard was grown. + </p> + <p> + One hot evening, while he sat on the roof between his father and mother + watching the never-ending warfare of the kites that the city boys flew, he + demanded a kite of his own with Pir Khan to fly it, because he had a fear + of dealing with anything larger than himself, and when Holden called him a + ‘spark,’ he rose to his feet and answered slowly in defence of his + new-found individuality, ‘Hum’park nahin hai. Hum admi hai [I am no spark, + but a man].’ + </p> + <p> + The protest made Holden choke and devote himself very seriously to a + consideration of Tota’s future. He need hardly have taken the trouble. The + delight of that life was too perfect to endure. Therefore it was taken + away as many things are taken away in India—suddenly and without + warning. The little lord of the house, as Pir Khan called him, grew + sorrowful and complained of pains who had never known the meaning of pain. + Ameera, wild with terror, watched him through the night, and in the + dawning of the second day the life was shaken out of him by fever—the + seasonal autumn fever. It seemed altogether impossible that he could die, + and neither Ameera nor Holden at first believed the evidence of the little + body on the bedstead. Then Ameera beat her head against the wall and would + have flung herself down the well in the garden had Holden not restrained + her by main force. + </p> + <p> + One mercy only was granted to Holden. He rode to his office in broad + daylight and found waiting him an unusually heavy mail that demanded + concentrated attention and hard work. He was not, however, alive to this + kindness of the gods. + </p> + <h3> + III + </h3> + <p> + The first shock of a bullet is no more than a brisk pinch. The wrecked + body does not send in its protest to the soul till ten or fifteen seconds + later. Holden realised his pain slowly, exactly as he had realised his + happiness, and with the same imperious necessity for hiding all trace of + it. In the beginning he only felt that there had been a loss, and that + Ameera needed comforting, where she sat with her head on her knees + shivering as Mian Mittu from the house-top called, Tota! Tota! Tota! Later + all his world and the daily life of it rose up to hurt him. It was an + outrage that any one of the children at the band-stand in the evening + should be alive and clamorous, when his own child lay dead. It was more + than mere pain when one of them touched him, and stories told by over-fond + fathers of their children’s latest performances cut him to the quick. He + could not declare his pain. He had neither help, comfort, nor sympathy; + and Ameera at the end of each weary day would lead him through the hell of + self-questioning reproach which is reserved for those who have lost a + child, and believe that with a little—just a little—more care + it might have been saved. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps,’ Ameera would say, ‘I did not take sufficient heed. Did I, or + did I not? The sun on the roof that day when he played so long alone and I + was—ahi! braiding my hair—it may be that the sun then bred the + fever. If I had warned him from the sun he might have lived. But, oh my + life, say that I am guiltless! Thou knowest that I loved him as I love + thee. Say that there is no blame on me, or I shall die—I shall die!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is no blame,—before God, none. It was written and how could + we do aught to save? What has been, has been. Let it go, beloved.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He was all my heart to me. How can I let the thought go when my arm tells + me every night that he is not here? Ahi! Ahi! O Tota, come back to me—come + back again, and let us be all together as it was before!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Peace, peace! For thine own sake, and for mine also, if thou lovest me—rest.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By this I know thou dost not care; and how shouldst thou? The white men + have hearts of stone and souls of iron. Oh, that I had married a man of + mine own people—though he beat me—and had never eaten the + bread of an alien!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Am I an alien—mother of my son?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What else—Sahib?... Oh, forgive me—forgive! The death has + driven me mad. Thou art the life of my heart, and the light of my eyes, + and the breath of my life, and—and I have put thee from me, though + it was but for a moment. If thou goest away, to whom shall I look for + help? Do not be angry. Indeed, it was the pain that spoke and not thy + slave.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know, I know. We be two who were three. The greater need therefore that + we should be one.’ + </p> + <p> + They were sitting on the roof as of custom. The night was a warm one in + early spring, and sheet-lightning was dancing on the horizon to a broken + tune played by far-off thunder. Ameera settled herself in Holden’s arms. + </p> + <p> + ‘The dry earth is lowing like a cow for the rain, and I—I am afraid. + It was not like this when we counted the stars. But thou lovest me as much + as before, though a bond is taken away? Answer!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I love more because a new bond has come out of the sorrow that we have + eaten together, and that thou knowest.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yea, I knew,’ said Ameera in a very small whisper. ‘But it is good to + hear thee say so, my life, who art so strong to help. I will be a child no + more, but a woman and an aid to thee. Listen! Give me my sitar and I will + sing bravely.’ + </p> + <p> + She took the light silver-studded sitar and began a song of the great hero + Rajah Rasalu. The hand failed on the strings, the tune halted, checked, + and at a low note turned off to the poor little nursery-rhyme about the + wicked crow— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And the wild plums grow in the jungle, only a penny a pound. + Only a penny a pound, baba—only . . . +</pre> + <p> + Then came the tears, and the piteous rebellion against fate till she + slept, moaning a little in her sleep, with the right arm thrown clear of + the body as though it protected something that was not there. It was after + this night that life became a little easier for Holden. The ever-present + pain of loss drove him into his work, and the work repaid him by filling + up his mind for nine or ten hours a day. Ameera sat alone in the house and + brooded, but grew happier when she understood that Holden was more at + ease, according to the custom of women. They touched happiness again, but + this time with caution. + </p> + <p> + ‘It was because we loved Tota that he died. The jealousy of God was upon + us,’ said Ameera. ‘I have hung up a large black jar before our window to + turn the evil eye from us, and we must make no protestations of delight, + but go softly underneath the stars, lest God find us out. Is that not good + talk, worthless one?’ + </p> + <p> + She had shifted the accent on the word that means ‘beloved,’ in proof of + the sincerity of her purpose. But the kiss that followed the new + christening was a thing that any deity might have envied. They went about + henceforward saying, ‘It is naught, it is naught;’ and hoping that all the + Powers heard. + </p> + <p> + The Powers were busy on other things. They had allowed thirty million + people four years of plenty wherein men fed well and the crops were + certain, and the birth-rate rose year by year; the districts reported a + purely agricultural population varying from nine hundred to two thousand + to the square mile of the overburdened earth; and the Member for Lower + Tooting, wandering about India in pot-hat and frock-coat, talked largely + of the benefits of British rule and suggested as the one thing needful the + establishment of a duly qualified electoral system and a general bestowal + of the franchise. His long-suffering hosts smiled and made him welcome, + and when he paused to admire, with pretty picked words, the blossom of the + blood-red dhak-tree that had flowered untimely for a sign of what was + coming, they smiled more than ever. + </p> + <p> + It was the Deputy Commissioner of Kot-Kumharsen, staying at the club for a + day, who lightly told a tale that made Holden’s blood run cold as he + overheard the end. + </p> + <p> + ‘He won’t bother any one any more. Never saw a man so astonished in my + life. By Jove, I thought he meant to ask a question in the House about it. + Fellow-passenger in his ship—dined next him—bowled over by + cholera and died in eighteen hours. You needn’t laugh, you fellows. The + Member for Lower Tooting is awfully angry about it; but he’s more scared. + I think he’s going to take his enlightened self out of India.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’d give a good deal if he were knocked over. It might keep a few + vestrymen of his kidney to their own parish. But what’s this about + cholera? It’s full early for anything of that kind,’ said the warden of an + unprofitable salt-lick. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t know,’ said the Deputy Commissioner reflectively. ‘We’ve got + locusts with us. There’s sporadic cholera all along the north—at + least we’re calling it sporadic for decency’s sake. The spring crops are + short in five districts, and nobody seems to know where the rains are. + It’s nearly March now. I don’t want to scare anybody, but it seems to me + that Nature’s going to audit her accounts with a big red pencil this + summer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just when I wanted to take leave, too!’ said a voice across the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘There won’t be much leave this year, but there ought to be a great deal + of promotion. I’ve come in to persuade the Government to put my pet canal + on the list of famine-relief works. It’s an ill-wind that blows no good. I + shall get that canal finished at last.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it the old programme then,’ said Holden; ‘famine, fever, and cholera?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh no. Only local scarcity and an unusual prevalence of seasonal + sickness. You’ll find it all in the reports if you live till next year. + You’re a lucky chap. YOU haven’t got a wife to send out of harm’s way. The + hill-stations ought to be full of women this year.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think you’re inclined to exaggerate the talk in the bazars’ said a + young civilian in the Secretariat. ‘Now I have observed—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I daresay you have,’ said the Deputy Commissioner, ‘but you’ve a great + deal more to observe, my son. In the meantime, I wish to observe to you—’ + and he drew him aside to discuss the construction of the canal that was so + dear to his heart. Holden went to his bungalow and began to understand + that he was not alone in the world, and also that he was afraid for the + sake of another,—which is the most soul-satisfying fear known to + man. + </p> + <p> + Two months later, as the Deputy had foretold, Nature began to audit her + accounts with a red pencil. On the heels of the spring-reapings came a cry + for bread, and the Government, which had decreed that no man should die of + want, sent wheat. Then came the cholera from all four quarters of the + compass. It struck a pilgrim-gathering of half a million at a sacred + shrine. Many died at the feet of their god; the others broke and ran over + the face of the land carrying the pestilence with them. It smote a walled + city and killed two hundred a day. The people crowded the trains, hanging + on to the footboards and squatting on the roofs of the carriages, and the + cholera followed them, for at each station they dragged out the dead and + the dying. They died by the roadside, and the horses of the Englishmen + shied at the corpses in the grass. The rains did not come, and the earth + turned to iron lest man should escape death by hiding in her. The English + sent their wives away to the hills and went about their work, coming + forward as they were bidden to fill the gaps in the fighting-line. Holden, + sick with fear of losing his chiefest treasure on earth, had done his best + to persuade Ameera to go away with her mother to the Himalayas. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why should I go?’ said she one evening on the roof. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is sickness, and people are dying, and all the white mem-log have + gone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All of them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All—unless perhaps there remain some old scald-head who vexes her + husband’s heart by running risk of death.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay; who stays is my sister, and thou must not abuse her, for I will be a + scald-head too. I am glad all the bold mem-log are gone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do I speak to a woman or a babe? Go to the hills and I will see to it + that thou goest like a queen’s daughter. Think, child. In a red-lacquered + bullock-cart, veiled and curtained, with brass peacocks upon the pole and + red cloth hangings. I will send two orderlies for guard, and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Peace! Thou art the babe in speaking thus. What use are those toys to me? + HE would have patted the bullocks and played with the housings. For his + sake, perhaps,—thou hast made me very English—I might have + gone. Now, I will not. Let the mem-log run.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Their husbands are sending them, beloved.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very good talk. Since when hast thou been my husband to tell me what to + do? I have but borne thee a son. Thou art only all the desire of my soul + to me. How shall I depart when I know that if evil befall thee by the + breadth of so much as my littlest finger-nail—is that not small?—I + should be aware of it though I were in paradise. And here, this summer + thou mayest die—ai, janee, die! and in dying they might call to tend + thee a white woman, and she would rob me in the last of thy love!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But love is not born in a moment or on a death-bed!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What dost thou know of love, stoneheart? She would take thy thanks at + least and, by God and the Prophet and Beebee Miriam the mother of thy + Prophet, that I will never endure. My lord and my love, let there be no + more foolish talk of going away. Where thou art, I am. It is enough.’ She + put an arm round his neck and a hand on his mouth. + </p> + <p> + There are not many happinesses so complete as those that are snatched + under the shadow of the sword. They sat together and laughed, calling each + other openly by every pet name that could move the wrath of the gods. The + city below them was locked up in its own torments. Sulphur fires blazed in + the streets; the conches in the Hindu temples screamed and bellowed, for + the gods were inattentive in those days. There was a service in the great + Mahomedan shrine, and the call to prayer from the minarets was almost + unceasing. They heard the wailing in the houses of the dead, and once the + shriek of a mother who had lost a child and was calling for its return. In + the gray dawn they saw the dead borne out through the city gates, each + litter with its own little knot of mourners. Wherefore they kissed each + other and shivered. + </p> + <p> + It was a red and heavy audit, for the land was very sick and needed a + little breathing-space ere the torrent of cheap life should flood it anew. + The children of immature fathers and undeveloped mothers made no + resistance. They were cowed and sat still, waiting till the sword should + be sheathed in November if it were so willed. There were gaps among the + English, but the gaps were filled. The work of superintending + famine-relief, cholera-sheds, medicine-distribution, and what little + sanitation was possible, went forward because it was so ordered. + </p> + <p> + Holden had been told to keep himself in readiness to move to replace the + next man who should fall. There were twelve hours in each day when he + could not see Ameera, and she might die in three. He was considering what + his pain would be if he could not see her for three months, or if she died + out of his sight. He was absolutely certain that her death would be + demanded—so certain that when he looked up from the telegram and saw + Pir Khan breathless in the doorway, he laughed aloud. ‘And?’ said he,— + </p> + <p> + ‘When there is a cry in the night and the spirit flutters into the throat, + who has a charm that will restore? Come swiftly, Heaven-born! It is the + black cholera.’ + </p> + <p> + Holden galloped to his home. The sky was heavy with clouds, for the + long-deferred rains were near and the heat was stifling. Ameera’s mother + met him in the courtyard, whimpering, ‘She is dying. She is nursing + herself into death. She is all but dead. What shall I do, sahib?’ + </p> + <p> + Ameera was lying in the room in which Tota had been born. She made no sign + when Holden entered, because the human soul is a very lonely thing and, + when it is getting ready to go away, hides itself in a misty borderland + where the living may not follow. The black cholera does its work quietly + and without explanation. Ameera was being thrust out of life as though the + Angel of Death had himself put his hand upon her. The quick breathing + seemed to show that she was either afraid or in pain, but neither eyes nor + mouth gave any answer to Holden’s kisses. There was nothing to be said or + done. Holden could only wait and suffer. The first drops of the rain began + to fall on the roof, and he could hear shouts of joy in the parched city. + </p> + <p> + The soul came back a little and the lips moved. Holden bent down to + listen. ‘Keep nothing of mine,’ said Ameera. ‘Take no hair from my head. + SHE would make thee burn it later on. That flame I should feel. Lower! + Stoop lower! Remember only that I was thine and bore thee a son. Though + thou wed a white woman to-morrow, the pleasure of receiving in thy arms + thy first son is taken from thee for ever. Remember me when thy son is + born—the one that shall carry thy name before all men. His + misfortunes be on my head. I bear witness—I bear witness’—the + lips were forming the words on his ear—‘that there is no God but—thee, + beloved!’ + </p> + <p> + Then she died. Holden sat still, and all thought was taken from him,—till + he heard Ameera’s mother lift the curtain. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is she dead, sahib?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She is dead.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then I will mourn, and afterwards take an inventory of the furniture in + this house. For that will be mine. The sahib does not mean to resume it? + It is so little, so very little, sahib, and I am an old woman. I would + like to lie softly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For the mercy of God be silent a while. Go out and mourn where I cannot + hear.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sahib, she will be buried in four hours.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know the custom. I shall go ere she is taken away. That matter is in + thy hands. Look to it, that the bed on which—on which she lies—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Aha! That beautiful red-lacquered bed. I have long desired—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That the bed is left here untouched for my disposal. All else in the + house is thine. Hire a cart, take everything, go hence, and before sunrise + let there be nothing in this house but that which I have ordered thee to + respect.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am an old woman. I would stay at least for the days of mourning, and + the rains have just broken. Whither shall I go?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is that to me? My order is that there is a going. The house-gear is + worth a thousand rupees and my orderly shall bring thee a hundred rupees + to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is very little. Think of the cart-hire.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It shall be nothing unless thou goest, and with speed. O woman, get hence + and leave me with my dead!’ + </p> + <p> + The mother shuffled down the staircase, and in her anxiety to take stock + of the house-fittings forgot to mourn. Holden stayed by Ameera’s side and + the rain roared on the roof. He could not think connectedly by reason of + the noise, though he made many attempts to do so. Then four sheeted ghosts + glided dripping into the room and stared at him through their veils. They + were the washers of the dead. Holden left the room and went out to his + horse. He had come in a dead, stifling calm through ankle-deep dust. He + found the courtyard a rain-lashed pond alive with frogs; a torrent of + yellow water ran under the gate, and a roaring wind drove the bolts of the + rain like buckshot against the mud-walls. Pir Khan was shivering in his + little hut by the gate, and the horse was stamping uneasily in the water. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have been told the sahib’s order,’ said Pir Khan. ‘It is well. This + house is now desolate. I go also, for my monkey-face would be a reminder + of that which has been. Concerning the bed, I will bring that to thy house + yonder in the morning; but remember, sahib, it will be to thee a knife + turning in a green wound. I go upon a pilgrimage, and I will take no + money. I have grown fat in the protection of the Presence whose sorrow is + my sorrow. For the last time I hold his stirrup.’ + </p> + <p> + He touched Holden’s foot with both hands and the horse sprang out into the + road, where the creaking bamboos were whipping the sky and all the frogs + were chuckling. Holden could not see for the rain in his face. He put his + hands before his eyes and muttered— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh you brute! You utter brute!’ + </p> + <p> + The news of his trouble was already in his bungalow. He read the knowledge + in his butler’s eyes when Ahmed Khan brought in food, and for the first + and last time in his life laid a hand upon his master’s shoulder, saying, + ‘Eat, sahib, eat. Meat is good against sorrow. I also have known. Moreover + the shadows come and go, sahib; the shadows come and go. These be curried + eggs.’ + </p> + <p> + Holden could neither eat nor sleep. The heavens sent down eight inches of + rain in that night and washed the earth clean. The waters tore down walls, + broke roads, and scoured open the shallow graves on the Mahomedan + burying-ground. All next day it rained, and Holden sat still in his house + considering his sorrow. On the morning of the third day he received a + telegram which said only, ‘Ricketts, Myndonie. Dying. Holden relieve. + Immediate.’ Then he thought that before he departed he would look at the + house wherein he had been master and lord. There was a break in the + weather, and the rank earth steamed with vapour. + </p> + <p> + He found that the rains had torn down the mud pillars of the gateway, and + the heavy wooden gate that had guarded his life hung lazily from one + hinge. There was grass three inches high in the courtyard; Pir Khan’s + lodge was empty, and the sodden thatch sagged between the beams. A gray + squirrel was in possession of the verandah, as if the house had been + untenanted for thirty years instead of three days. Ameera’s mother had + removed everything except some mildewed matting. The tick-tick of the + little scorpions as they hurried across the floor was the only sound in + the house. Ameera’s room and the other one where Tota had lived were heavy + with mildew; and the narrow staircase leading to the roof was streaked and + stained with rain-borne mud. Holden saw all these things, and came out + again to meet in the road Durga Dass, his landlord,—portly, affable, + clothed in white muslin, and driving a Cee-spring buggy. He was + overlooking his property to see how the roofs stood the stress of the + first rains. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have heard,’ said he, ‘you will not take this place any more, sahib?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you going to do with it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I shall let it again.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then I will keep it on while I am away.’ + </p> + <p> + Durga Dass was silent for some time. ‘You shall not take it on, sahib,’ he + said. ‘When I was a young man I also—, but to-day I am a member of + the Municipality. Ho! Ho! No. When the birds have gone what need to keep + the nest? I will have it pulled down—the timber will sell for + something always. It shall be pulled down, and the Municipality shall make + a road across, as they desire, from the burning-ghat to the city wall, so + that no man may say where this house stood.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AT THE END OF THE PASSAGE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sky is lead and our faces are red, + And the gates of Hell are opened and riven, + And the winds of Hell are loosened and driven, + And the dust flies up in the face of Heaven, + And the clouds come down in a fiery sheet, + Heavy to raise and hard to be borne. + And the soul of man is turned from his meat, + Turned from the trifles for which he has striven + Sick in his body, and heavy hearted, + And his soul flies up like the dust in the sheet + Breaks from his flesh and is gone and departed, + As the blasts they blow on the cholera-horn. + HIMALAYAN. +</pre> + <p> + Four men, each entitled to ‘life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,’ + sat at a table playing whist. The thermometer marked—for them—one + hundred and one degrees of heat. The room was darkened till it was only + just possible to distinguish the pips of the cards and the very white + faces of the players. A tattered, rotten punkah of whitewashed calico was + puddling the hot air and whining dolefully at each stroke. Outside lay + gloom of a November day in London. There was neither sky, sun, nor + horizon,—nothing but a brown purple haze of heat. It was as though + the earth were dying of apoplexy. + </p> + <p> + From time to time clouds of tawny dust rose from the ground without wind + or warning, flung themselves tablecloth-wise among the tops of the parched + trees, and came down again. Then a whirling dust-devil would scutter + across the plain for a couple of miles, break, and fall outward, though + there was nothing to check its flight save a long low line of piled + railway-sleepers white with the dust, a cluster of huts made of mud, + condemned rails, and canvas, and the one squat four-roomed bungalow that + belonged to the assistant engineer in charge of a section of the Gaudhari + State line then under construction. + </p> + <p> + The four, stripped to the thinnest of sleeping-suits, played whist + crossly, with wranglings as to leads and returns. It was not the best kind + of whist, but they had taken some trouble to arrive at it. Mottram of the + Indian Survey had ridden thirty and railed one hundred miles from his + lonely post in the desert since the night before; Lowndes of the Civil + Service, on special duty in the political department, had come as far to + escape for an instant the miserable intrigues of an impoverished native + State whose king alternately fawned and blustered for more money from the + pitiful revenues contributed by hard-wrung peasants and despairing + camel-breeders; Spurstow, the doctor of the line, had left a + cholera-stricken camp of coolies to look after itself for forty-eight + hours while he associated with white men once more. Hummil, the assistant + engineer, was the host. He stood fast and received his friends thus every + Sunday if they could come in. When one of them failed to appear, he would + send a telegram to his last address, in order that he might know whether + the defaulter were dead or alive. There are very many places in the East + where it is not good or kind to let your acquaintances drop out of sight + even for one short week. + </p> + <p> + The players were not conscious of any special regard for each other. They + squabbled whenever they met; but they ardently desired to meet, as men + without water desire to drink. They were lonely folk who understood the + dread meaning of loneliness. They were all under thirty years of age,—which + is too soon for any man to possess that knowledge. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pilsener?’ said Spurstow, after the second rubber, mopping his forehead. + </p> + <p> + ‘Beer’s out, I’m sorry to say, and there’s hardly enough soda-water for + to-night,’ said Hummil. + </p> + <p> + ‘What filthy bad management!’ Spurstow snarled. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t help it. I’ve written and wired; but the trains don’t come through + regularly yet. Last week the ice ran out,—as Lowndes knows.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Glad I didn’t come. I could ha’ sent you some if I had known, though. + Phew! it’s too hot to go on playing bumblepuppy.’ This with a savage scowl + at Lowndes, who only laughed. He was a hardened offender. + </p> + <p> + Mottram rose from the table and looked out of a chink in the shutters. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a sweet day!’ said he. + </p> + <p> + The company yawned all together and betook themselves to an aimless + investigation of all Hummil’s possessions,—guns, tattered novels, + saddlery, spurs, and the like. They had fingered them a score of times + before, but there was really nothing else to do. + </p> + <p> + ‘Got anything fresh?’ said Lowndes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Last week’s Gazette of India, and a cutting from a home paper. My father + sent it out. It’s rather amusing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘One of those vestrymen that call ‘emselves M.P.‘s again, is it?’ said + Spurstow, who read his newspapers when he could get them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. Listen to this. It’s to your address, Lowndes. The man was making a + speech to his constituents, and he piled it on. Here’s a sample: “And I + assert unhesitatingly that the Civil Service in India is the preserve—the + pet preserve—of the aristocracy of England. What does the democracy—what + do the masses—get from that country, which we have step by step + fraudulently annexed? I answer, nothing whatever. It is farmed with a + single eye to their own interests by the scions of the aristocracy. They + take good care to maintain their lavish scale of incomes, to avoid or + stifle any inquiries into the nature and conduct of their administration, + while they themselves force the unhappy peasant to pay with the sweat of + his brow for all the luxuries in which they are lapped.”’ Hummil waved the + cutting above his head. ‘’Ear! ‘ear!’ said his audience. + </p> + <p> + Then Lowndes, meditatively: ‘I’d give—I’d give three months’ pay to + have that gentleman spend one month with me and see how the free and + independent native prince works things. Old Timbersides’—this was + his flippant title for an honoured and decorated feudatory prince—‘has + been wearing my life out this week past for money. By Jove, his latest + performance was to send me one of his women as a bribe!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good for you! Did you accept it?’ said Mottram. + </p> + <p> + ‘No. I rather wish I had, now. She was a pretty little person, and she + yarned away to me about the horrible destitution among the king’s + women-folk. The darlings haven’t had any new clothes for nearly a month, + and the old man wants to buy a new drag from Calcutta,—solid silver + railings and silver lamps, and trifles of that kind. I’ve tried to make + him understand that he has played the deuce with the revenues for the last + twenty years and must go slow. He can’t see it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But he has the ancestral treasure-vaults to draw on. There must be three + millions at least in jewels and coin under his palace,’ said Hummil. + </p> + <p> + ‘Catch a native king disturbing the family treasure! The priests forbid it + except as the last resort. Old Timbersides has added something like a + quarter of a million to the deposit in his reign.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where the mischief does it all come from?’ said Mottram. + </p> + <p> + ‘The country. The state of the people is enough to make you sick. I’ve + known the tax-men wait by a milch-camel till the foal was born and then + hurry off the mother for arrears. And what can I do? I can’t get the court + clerks to give me any accounts; I can’t raise anything more than a fat + smile from the commander-in-chief when I find out the troops are three + months in arrears; and old Timbersides begins to weep when I speak to him. + He has taken to the King’s Peg heavily,—liqueur brandy for whisky, + and Heidsieck for soda-water.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s what the Rao of Jubela took to. Even a native can’t last long at + that,’ said Spurstow. ‘He’ll go out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And a good thing, too. Then I suppose we’ll have a council of regency, + and a tutor for the young prince, and hand him back his kingdom with ten + years’ accumulations.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Whereupon that young prince, having been taught all the vices of the + English, will play ducks and drakes with the money and undo ten years’ + work in eighteen months. I’ve seen that business before,’ said Spurstow. + ‘I should tackle the king with a light hand, if I were you, Lowndes. + They’ll hate you quite enough under any circumstances.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all very well. The man who looks on can talk about the light hand; + but you can’t clean a pig-stye with a pen dipped in rose-water. I know my + risks; but nothing has happened yet. My servant’s an old Pathan, and he + cooks for me. They are hardly likely to bribe him, and I don’t accept food + from my true friends, as they call themselves. Oh, but it’s weary work! + I’d sooner be with you, Spurstow. There’s shooting near your camp.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Would you? I don’t think it. About fifteen deaths a day don’t incite a + man to shoot anything but himself. And the worst of it is that the poor + devils look at you as though you ought to save them. Lord knows, I’ve + tried everything. My last attempt was empirical, but it pulled an old man + through. He was brought to me apparently past hope, and I gave him gin and + Worcester sauce with cayenne. It cured him; but I don’t recommend it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How do the cases run generally?’ said Hummil. + </p> + <p> + ‘Very simply indeed. Chlorodyne, opium pill, chlorodyne, collapse, nitre, + bricks to the feet, and then—the burning-ghat. The last seems to be + the only thing that stops the trouble. It’s black cholera, you know. Poor + devils! But, I will say, little Bunsee Lal, my apothecary, works like a + demon. I’ve recommended him for promotion if he comes through it all + alive.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what are your chances, old man?’ said Mottram. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t know; don’t care much; but I’ve sent the letter in. What are you + doing with yourself generally?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sitting under a table in the tent and spitting on the sextant to keep it + cool,’ said the man of the survey. ‘Washing my eyes to avoid ophthalmia, + which I shall certainly get, and trying to make a sub-surveyor understand + that an error of five degrees in an angle isn’t quite so small as it + looks. I’m altogether alone, y’ know, and shall be till the end of the hot + weather.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hummil’s the lucky man,’ said Lowndes, flinging himself into a long + chair. ‘He has an actual roof—torn as to the ceiling-cloth, but + still a roof—over his head. He sees one train daily. He can get beer + and soda-water and ice ‘em when God is good. He has books, pictures,—-they + were torn from the Graphic,—‘and the society of the excellent + sub-contractor Jevins, besides the pleasure of receiving us weekly.’ + </p> + <p> + Hummil smiled grimly. ‘Yes, I’m the lucky man, I suppose. Jevins is + luckier.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How? Not——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. Went out. Last Monday.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By his own hand?’ said Spurstow quickly, hinting the suspicion that was + in everybody’s mind. There was no cholera near Hummil’s section. Even + fever gives a man at least a week’s grace, and sudden death generally + implied self-slaughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘I judge no man this weather,’ said Hummil. ‘He had a touch of the sun, I + fancy; for last week, after you fellows had left, he came into the + verandah and told me that he was going home to see his wife, in Market + Street, Liverpool, that evening. + </p> + <p> + ‘I got the apothecary in to look at him, and we tried to make him lie + down. After an hour or two he rubbed his eyes and said he believed he had + had a fit,—hoped he hadn’t said anything rude. Jevins had a great + idea of bettering himself socially. He was very like Chucks in his + language.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then he went to his own bungalow and began cleaning a rifle. He told the + servant that he was going to shoot buck in the morning. Naturally he + fumbled with the trigger, and shot himself through the head—accidentally. + The apothecary sent in a report to my chief, and Jevins is buried + somewhere out there. I’d have wired to you, Spurstow, if you could have + done anything.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re a queer chap,’ said Mottram. ‘If you’d killed the man yourself you + couldn’t have been more quiet about the business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good Lord! what does it matter?’ said Hummil calmly. ‘I’ve got to do a + lot of his overseeing work in addition to my own. I’m the only person that + suffers. Jevins is out of it,—by pure accident, of course, but out + of it. The apothecary was going to write a long screed on suicide. Trust a + babu to drivel when he gets the chance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why didn’t you let it go in as suicide?’ said Lowndes. + </p> + <p> + ‘No direct proof. A man hasn’t many privileges in this country, but he + might at least be allowed to mishandle his own rifle. Besides, some day I + may need a man to smother up an accident to myself. Live and let live. Die + and let die.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You take a pill,’ said Spurstow, who had been watching Hummil’s white + face narrowly. ‘Take a pill, and don’t be an ass. That sort of talk is + skittles. Anyhow, suicide is shirking your work. If I were Job ten times + over, I should be so interested in what was going to happen next that I’d + stay on and watch.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! I’ve lost that curiosity,’ said Hummil. + </p> + <p> + ‘Liver out of order?’ said Lowndes feelingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘No. Can’t sleep. That’s worse.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jove, it is!’ said Mottram. ‘I’m that way every now and then, and the + fit has to wear itself out. What do you take for it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing. What’s the use? I haven’t had ten minutes’ sleep since Friday + morning.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor chap! Spurstow, you ought to attend to this,’ said Mottram. ‘Now you + mention it, your eyes are rather gummy and swollen.’ + </p> + <p> + Spurstow, still watching Hummil, laughed lightly. ‘I’ll patch him up, + later on. Is it too hot, do you think, to go for a ride?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where to?’ said Lowndes wearily. ‘We shall have to go away at eight, and + there’ll be riding enough for us then. I hate a horse, when I have to use + him as a necessity. Oh, heavens! what is there to do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Begin whist again, at chick points [‘a chick’ is supposed to be eight + shillings] and a gold mohur on the rub,’ said Spurstow promptly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poker. A month’s pay all round for the pool,—no limit,—and + fifty-rupee raises. Somebody would be broken before we got up,’ said + Lowndes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t say that it would give me any pleasure to break any man in this + company,’ said Mottram. ‘There isn’t enough excitement in it, and it’s + foolish.’ He crossed over to the worn and battered little camp-piano,—wreckage + of a married household that had once held the bungalow,—and opened + the case. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s used up long ago,’ said Hummil. ‘The servants have picked it to + pieces.’ + </p> + <p> + The piano was indeed hopelessly out of order, but Mottram managed to bring + the rebellious notes into a sort of agreement, and there rose from the + ragged keyboard something that might once have been the ghost of a popular + music-hall song. The men in the long chairs turned with evident interest + as Mottram banged the more lustily. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s good!’ said Lowndes. ‘By Jove! the last time I heard that song was + in ‘79, or thereabouts, just before I came out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said Spurstow with pride,’ I was home in ‘80.’ And he mentioned a + song of the streets popular at that date. + </p> + <p> + Mottram executed it roughly. Lowndes criticised and volunteered + emendations. Mottram dashed into another ditty, not of the music-hall + character, and made as if to rise. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sit down,’ said Hummil. ‘I didn’t know that you had any music in your + composition. Go on playing until you can’t think of anything more. I’ll + have that piano tuned up before you come again. Play something festive.’ + </p> + <p> + Very simple indeed were the tunes to which Mottram’s art and the + limitations of the piano could give effect, but the men listened with + pleasure, and in the pauses talked all together of what they had seen or + heard when they were last at home. A dense dust-storm sprung up outside, + and swept roaring over the house, enveloping it in the choking darkness of + midnight, but Mottram continued unheeding, and the crazy tinkle reached + the ears of the listeners above the flapping of the tattered + ceiling-cloth. + </p> + <p> + In the silence after the storm he glided from the more directly personal + songs of Scotland, half humming them as he played, into the Evening Hymn. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sunday,’ said he, nodding his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Go on. Don’t apologise for it,’ said Spurstow. + </p> + <p> + Hummil laughed long and riotously. ‘Play it, by all means. You’re full of + surprises to-day. I didn’t know you had such a gift of finished sarcasm. + How does that thing go?’ + </p> + <p> + Mottram took up the tune. + </p> + <p> + ‘Too slow by half. You miss the note of gratitude,’ said Hummil. ‘It ought + to go to the “Grasshopper’s Polka,”—this way.’ And he chanted, + prestissimo,— + </p> + <p> + ‘Glory to thee, my God, this night. For all the blessings of the light. + </p> + <p> + That shows we really feel our blessings. How does it go on?— + </p> + <p> + ‘If in the night I sleepless lie, My soul with sacred thoughts supply; May + no ill dreams disturb my rest.’— + </p> + <p> + Quicker, Mottram!— + </p> + <p> + ‘Or powers of darkness me molest!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bah! what an old hypocrite you are!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be an ass,’ said Lowndes. ‘You are at full liberty to make fun of + anything else you like, but leave that hymn alone. It’s associated in my + mind with the most sacred recollections——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Summer evenings in the country,—stained-glass window,—light + going out, and you and she jamming your heads together over one + hymn-book,’ said Mottram. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, and a fat old cockchafer hitting you in the eye when you walked + home. Smell of hay, and a moon as big as a bandbox sitting on the top of a + haycock; bats,—roses,—milk and midges,’ said Lowndes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Also mothers. I can just recollect my mother singing me to sleep with + that when I was a little chap,’ said Spurstow. + </p> + <p> + The darkness had fallen on the room. They could hear Hummil squirming in + his chair. + </p> + <p> + ‘Consequently,’ said he testily, ‘you sing it when you are seven fathom + deep in Hell! It’s an insult to the intelligence of the Deity to pretend + we’re anything but tortured rebels.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Take TWO pills,’ said Spurstow; ‘that’s tortured liver.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The usually placid Hummil is in a vile bad temper. I’m sorry for his + coolies to-morrow,’ said Lowndes, as the servants brought in the lights + and prepared the table for dinner. + </p> + <p> + As they were settling into their places about the miserable goat-chops, + and the smoked tapioca pudding, Spurstow took occasion to whisper to + Mottram, ‘Well done, David!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look after Saul, then,’ was the reply. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you two whispering about?’ said Hummil suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Only saying that you are a damned poor host. This fowl can’t be cut,’ + returned Spurstow with a sweet smile. ‘Call this a dinner?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t help it. You don’t expect a banquet, do you?’ + </p> + <p> + Throughout that meal Hummil contrived laboriously to insult directly and + pointedly all his guests in succession, and at each insult Spurstow kicked + the aggrieved persons under the table; but he dared not exchange a glance + of intelligence with either of them. Hummil’s face was white and pinched, + while his eyes were unnaturally large. No man dreamed for a moment of + resenting his savage personalities, but as soon as the meal was over they + made haste to get away. ‘Don’t go. You’re just getting amusing, you + fellows. I hope I haven’t said anything that annoyed you. You’re such + touchy devils.’ Then, changing the note into one of almost abject + entreaty, Hummil added, ‘I say, you surely aren’t going?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In the language of the blessed Jorrocks, where I dines I sleeps,’ said + Spurstow. ‘I want to have a look at your coolies to-morrow, if you don’t + mind. You can give me a place to lie down in, I suppose?’ + </p> + <p> + The others pleaded the urgency of their several duties next day, and, + saddling up, departed together, Hummil begging them to come next Sunday. + As they jogged off, Lowndes unbosomed himself to Mottram— + </p> + <p> + ‘... And I never felt so like kicking a man at his own table in my life. + He said I cheated at whist, and reminded me I was in debt! ‘Told you you + were as good as a liar to your face! You aren’t half indignant enough over + it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not I,’ said Mottram. ‘Poor devil! Did you ever know old Hummy behave + like that before or within a hundred miles of it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s no excuse. Spurstow was hacking my shin all the time, so I kept a + hand on myself. Else I should have—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, you wouldn’t. You’d have done as Hummy did about Jevins; judge no man + this weather. By Jove! the buckle of my bridle is hot in my hand! Trot out + a bit, and ‘ware rat-holes.’ + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes’ trotting jerked out of Lowndes one very sage remark when he + pulled up, sweating from every pore— + </p> + <p> + ‘’Good thing Spurstow’s with him to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ye-es. Good man, Spurstow. Our roads turn here. See you again next + Sunday, if the sun doesn’t bowl me over.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘S’pose so, unless old Timbersides’ finance minister manages to dress some + of my food. Good-night, and—God bless you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s wrong now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, nothing.’ Lowndes gathered up his whip, and, as he flicked Mottram’s + mare on the flank, added, ‘You’re not a bad little chap,—that’s + all.’ And the mare bolted half a mile across the sand, on the word. + </p> + <p> + In the assistant engineer’s bungalow Spurstow and Hummil smoked the pipe + of silence together, each narrowly watching the other. The capacity of a + bachelor’s establishment is as elastic as its arrangements are simple. A + servant cleared away the dining-room table, brought in a couple of rude + native bedsteads made of tape strung on a light wood frame, flung a square + of cool Calcutta matting over each, set them side by side, pinned two + towels to the punkah so that their fringes should just sweep clear of the + sleepers’ nose and mouth, and announced that the couches were ready. + </p> + <p> + The men flung themselves down, ordering the punkah-coolies by all the + powers of Hell to pull. Every door and window was shut, for the outside + air was that of an oven. The atmosphere within was only 104 degrees, as + the thermometer bore witness, and heavy with the foul smell of + badly-trimmed kerosene lamps; and this stench, combined with that of + native tobacco, baked brick, and dried earth, sends the heart of many a + strong man down to his boots, for it is the smell of the Great Indian + Empire when she turns herself for six months into a house of torment. + Spurstow packed his pillows craftily so that he reclined rather than lay, + his head at a safe elevation above his feet. It is not good to sleep on a + low pillow in the hot weather if you happen to be of thick-necked build, + for you may pass with lively snores and gugglings from natural sleep into + the deep slumber of heat-apoplexy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pack your pillows,’ said the doctor sharply, as he saw Hummil preparing + to lie down at full length. + </p> + <p> + The night-light was trimmed; the shadow of the punkah wavered across the + room, and the ‘flick’ of the punkah-towel and the soft whine of the rope + through the wall-hole followed it. Then the punkah flagged, almost ceased. + The sweat poured from Spurstow’s brow. Should he go out and harangue the + coolie? It started forward again with a savage jerk, and a pin came out of + the towels. When this was replaced, a tomtom in the coolie-lines began to + beat with the steady throb of a swollen artery inside some brain-fevered + skull. Spurstow turned on his side and swore gently. There was no movement + on Hummil’s part. The man had composed himself as rigidly as a corpse, his + hands clinched at his sides. The respiration was too hurried for any + suspicion of sleep. Spurstow looked at the set face. The jaws were + clinched, and there was a pucker round the quivering eyelids. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s holding himself as tightly as ever he can,’ thought Spurstow. ‘What + in the world is the matter with him?—Hummil!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ in a thick constrained voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t you get to sleep?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Head hot? ‘Throat feeling bulgy? or how?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Neither, thanks. I don’t sleep much, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Feel pretty bad?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pretty bad, thanks. There is a tomtom outside, isn’t there? I thought it + was my head at first.... Oh, Spurstow, for pity’s sake give me something + that will put me asleep,—sound asleep,—if it’s only for six + hours!’ He sprang up, trembling from head to foot. ‘I haven’t been able to + sleep naturally for days, and I can’t stand it!—I can’t stand it!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor old chap!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s no use. Give me something to make me sleep. I tell you I’m nearly + mad. I don’t know what I say half my time. For three weeks I’ve had to + think and spell out every word that has come through my lips before I + dared say it. Isn’t that enough to drive a man mad? I can’t see things + correctly now, and I’ve lost my sense of touch. My skin aches—my + skin aches! Make me sleep. Oh, Spurstow, for the love of God make me sleep + sound. It isn’t enough merely to let me dream. Let me sleep!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right, old man, all right. Go slow; you aren’t half as bad as you + think.’ + </p> + <p> + The flood-gates of reserve once broken, Hummil was clinging to him like a + frightened child. ‘You’re pinching my arm to pieces.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll break your neck if you don’t do something for me. No, I didn’t mean + that. Don’t be angry, old fellow.’ He wiped the sweat off himself as he + fought to regain composure. ‘I’m a bit restless and off my oats, and + perhaps you could recommend some sort of sleeping mixture,—bromide + of potassium.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bromide of skittles! Why didn’t you tell me this before? Let go of my + arm, and I’ll see if there’s anything in my cigarette-case to suit your + complaint.’ Spurstow hunted among his day-clothes, turned up the lamp, + opened a little silver cigarette-case, and advanced on the expectant + Hummil with the daintiest of fairy squirts. + </p> + <p> + ‘The last appeal of civilisation,’ said he, ‘and a thing I hate to use. + Hold out your arm. Well, your sleeplessness hasn’t ruined your muscle; and + what a thick hide it is! Might as well inject a buffalo subcutaneously. + Now in a few minutes the morphia will begin working. Lie down and wait.’ + </p> + <p> + A smile of unalloyed and idiotic delight began to creep over Hummil’s + face. ‘I think,’ he whispered,—‘I think I’m going off now. Gad! it’s + positively heavenly! Spurstow, you must give me that case to keep; you—’ + The voice ceased as the head fell back. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not for a good deal,’ said Spurstow to the unconscious form. ‘And now, my + friend, sleeplessness of your kind being very apt to relax the moral fibre + in little matters of life and death, I’ll just take the liberty of spiking + your guns.’ + </p> + <p> + He paddled into Hummil’s saddle-room in his bare feet and uncased a + twelve-bore rifle, an express, and a revolver. Of the first he unscrewed + the nipples and hid them in the bottom of a saddlery-case; of the second + he abstracted the lever, kicking it behind a big wardrobe. The third he + merely opened, and knocked the doll-head bolt of the grip up with the heel + of a riding-boot. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s settled,’ he said, as he shook the sweat off his hands. ‘These + little precautions will at least give you time to turn. You have too much + sympathy with gun-room accidents.’ + </p> + <p> + And as he rose from his knees, the thick muffled voice of Hummil cried in + the doorway, ‘You fool!’ + </p> + <p> + Such tones they use who speak in the lucid intervals of delirium to their + friends a little before they die. + </p> + <p> + Spurstow started, dropping the pistol. Hummil stood in the doorway, + rocking with helpless laughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘That was awf’ly good of you, I’m sure,’ he said, very slowly, feeling for + his words. ‘I don’t intend to go out by my own hand at present. I say, + Spurstow, that stuff won’t work. What shall I do? What shall I do?’ And + panic terror stood in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lie down and give it a chance. Lie down at once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I daren’t. It will only take me half-way again, and I shan’t be able to + get away this time. Do you know it was all I could do to come out just + now? Generally I am as quick as lightning; but you had clogged my feet. I + was nearly caught.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes, I understand. Go and lie down.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, it isn’t delirium; but it was an awfully mean trick to play on me. Do + you know I might have died?’ + </p> + <p> + As a sponge rubs a slate clean, so some power unknown to Spurstow had + wiped out of Hummil’s face all that stamped it for the face of a man, and + he stood at the doorway in the expression of his lost innocence. He had + slept back into terrified childhood. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is he going to die on the spot?’ thought Spurstow. Then, aloud, ‘All + right, my son. Come back to bed, and tell me all about it. You couldn’t + sleep; but what was all the rest of the nonsense?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A place,—a place down there,’ said Hummil, with simple sincerity. + The drug was acting on him by waves, and he was flung from the fear of a + strong man to the fright of a child as his nerves gathered sense or were + dulled. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good God! I’ve been afraid of it for months past, Spurstow. It has made + every night hell to me; and yet I’m not conscious of having done anything + wrong.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Be still, and I’ll give you another dose. We’ll stop your nightmares, you + unutterable idiot!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, but you must give me so much that I can’t get away. You must make me + quite sleepy,—not just a little sleepy. It’s so hard to run then.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know it; I know it. I’ve felt it myself. The symptoms are exactly as + you describe.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, don’t laugh at me, confound you! Before this awful sleeplessness came + to me I’ve tried to rest on my elbow and put a spur in the bed to sting me + when I fell back. Look!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jove! the man has been rowelled like a horse! Ridden by the nightmare + with a vengeance! And we all thought him sensible enough. Heaven send us + understanding! You like to talk, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sometimes. Not when I’m frightened. THEN I want to run. Don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Always. Before I give you your second dose try to tell me exactly what + your trouble is.’ + </p> + <p> + Hummil spoke in broken whispers for nearly ten minutes, whilst Spurstow + looked into the pupils of his eyes and passed his hand before them once or + twice. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the narrative the silver cigarette-case was produced, and + the last words that Hummil said as he fell back for the second time were, + ‘Put me quite to sleep; for if I’m caught I die,—I die!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes; we all do that sooner or later,—thank Heaven who has set + a term to our miseries,’ said Spurstow, settling the cushions under the + head. ‘It occurs to me that unless I drink something I shall go out before + my time. I’ve stopped sweating, and—I wear a seventeen-inch collar.’ + He brewed himself scalding hot tea, which is an excellent remedy against + heat-apoplexy if you take three or four cups of it in time. Then he + watched the sleeper. + </p> + <p> + ‘A blind face that cries and can’t wipe its eyes, a blind face that chases + him down corridors! H’m! Decidedly, Hummil ought to go on leave as soon as + possible; and, sane or otherwise, he undoubtedly did rowel himself most + cruelly. Well, Heaven send us understanding!’ + </p> + <p> + At mid-day Hummil rose, with an evil taste in his mouth, but an unclouded + eye and a joyful heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was pretty bad last night, wasn’t I?’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have seen healthier men. You must have had a touch of the sun. Look + here: if I write you a swingeing medical certificate, will you apply for + leave on the spot?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not? You want it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, but I can hold on till the weather’s a little cooler.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why should you, if you can get relieved on the spot?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Burkett is the only man who could be sent; and he’s a born fool.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, never mind about the line. You aren’t so important as all that. Wire + for leave, if necessary.’ + </p> + <p> + Hummil looked very uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can hold on till the Rains,’ he said evasively. + </p> + <p> + ‘You can’t. Wire to headquarters for Burkett.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t. If you want to know why, particularly, Burkett is married, and + his wife’s just had a kid, and she’s up at Simla, in the cool, and Burkett + has a very nice billet that takes him into Simla from Saturday to Monday. + That little woman isn’t at all well. If Burkett was transferred she’d try + to follow him. If she left the baby behind she’d fret herself to death. If + she came,—and Burkett’s one of those selfish little beasts who are + always talking about a wife’s place being with her husband,—she’d + die. It’s murder to bring a woman here just now. Burkett hasn’t the + physique of a rat. If he came here he’d go out; and I know she hasn’t any + money, and I’m pretty sure she’d go out too. I’m salted in a sort of way, + and I’m not married. Wait till the Rains, and then Burkett can get thin + down here. It’ll do him heaps of good.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mean to say that you intend to face—what you have faced, + till the Rains break?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, it won’t be so bad, now you’ve shown me a way out of it. I can always + wire to you. Besides, now I’ve once got into the way of sleeping, it’ll be + all right. Anyhow, I shan’t put in for leave. That’s the long and the + short of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My great Scott! I thought all that sort of thing was dead and done with.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bosh! You’d do the same yourself. I feel a new man, thanks to that + cigarette-case. You’re going over to camp now, aren’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes; but I’ll try to look you up every other day, if I can.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not bad enough for that. I don’t want you to bother. Give the coolies + gin and ketchup.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you feel all right?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fit to fight for my life, but not to stand out in the sun talking to you. + Go along, old man, and bless you!’ + </p> + <p> + Hummil turned on his heel to face the echoing desolation of his bungalow, + and the first thing he saw standing in the verandah was the figure of + himself. He had met a similar apparition once before, when he was + suffering from overwork and the strain of the hot weather. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is bad,—already,’ he said, rubbing his eyes. ‘If the thing + slides away from me all in one piece, like a ghost, I shall know it is + only my eyes and stomach that are out of order. If it walks—my head + is going.’ + </p> + <p> + He approached the figure, which naturally kept at an unvarying distance + from him, as is the use of all spectres that are born of overwork. It slid + through the house and dissolved into swimming specks within the eyeball as + soon as it reached the burning light of the garden. Hummil went about his + business till even. When he came in to dinner he found himself sitting at + the table. The vision rose and walked out hastily. Except that it cast no + shadow it was in all respects real. + </p> + <p> + No living man knows what that week held for Hummil. An increase of the + epidemic kept Spurstow in camp among the coolies, and all he could do was + to telegraph to Mottram, bidding him go to the bungalow and sleep there. + But Mottram was forty miles away from the nearest telegraph, and knew + nothing of anything save the needs of the survey till he met, early on + Sunday morning, Lowndes and Spurstow heading towards Hummil’s for the + weekly gathering. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hope the poor chap’s in a better temper,’ said the former, swinging + himself off his horse at the door. ‘I suppose he isn’t up yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll just have a look at him,’ said the doctor. ‘If he’s asleep there’s + no need to wake him.’ + </p> + <p> + And an instant later, by the tone of Spurstow’s voice calling upon them to + enter, the men knew what had happened. There was no need to wake him. + </p> + <p> + The punkah was still being pulled over the bed, but Hummil had departed + this life at least three hours. + </p> + <p> + The body lay on its back, hands clinched by the side, as Spurstow had seen + it lying seven nights previously. In the staring eyes was written terror + beyond the expression of any pen. + </p> + <p> + Mottram, who had entered behind Lowndes, bent over the dead and touched + the forehead lightly with his lips. ‘Oh, you lucky, lucky devil!’ he + whispered. + </p> + <p> + But Lowndes had seen the eyes, and withdrew shuddering to the other side + of the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor chap! poor old chap! And the last time I met him I was angry. + Spurstow, we should have watched him. Has he—?’ + </p> + <p> + Deftly Spurstow continued his investigations, ending by a search round the + room. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, he hasn’t,’ he snapped. ‘There’s no trace of anything. Call the + servants.’ + </p> + <p> + They came, eight or ten of them, whispering and peering over each other’s + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + ‘When did your Sahib go to bed?’ said Spurstow. + </p> + <p> + ‘At eleven or ten, we think,’ said Hummil’s personal servant. + </p> + <p> + ‘He was well then? But how should you know?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He was not ill, as far as our comprehension extended. But he had slept + very little for three nights. This I know, because I saw him walking much, + and specially in the heart of the night.’ + </p> + <p> + As Spurstow was arranging the sheet, a big straight-necked hunting-spur + tumbled on the ground. The doctor groaned. The personal servant peeped at + the body. + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you think, Chuma?’ said Spurstow, catching the look on the dark + face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Heaven-born, in my poor opinion, this that was my master has descended + into the Dark Places, and there has been caught because he was not able to + escape with sufficient speed. We have the spur for evidence that he fought + with Fear. Thus have I seen men of my race do with thorns when a spell was + laid upon them to overtake them in their sleeping hours and they dared not + sleep.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Chuma, you’re a mud-head. Go out and prepare seals to be set on the + Sahib’s property.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘God has made the Heaven-born. God has made me. Who are we, to inquire + into the dispensations of God? I will bid the other servants hold aloof + while you are reckoning the tale of the Sahib’s property. They are all + thieves, and would steal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As far as I can make out, he died from—oh, anything; stoppage of + the heart’s action, heat-apoplexy, or some other visitation,’ said + Spurstow to his companions. ‘We must make an inventory of his effects, and + so on.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He was scared to death,’ insisted Lowndes. ‘Look at those eyes! For + pity’s sake don’t let him be buried with them open!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Whatever it was, he’s clear of all the trouble now,’ said Mottram softly. + </p> + <p> + Spurstow was peering into the open eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come here,’ said he. ‘Can you see anything there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t face it!’ whimpered Lowndes. ‘Cover up the face! Is there any + fear on earth that can turn a man into that likeness? It’s ghastly. Oh, + Spurstow, cover it up!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No fear—on earth,’ said Spurstow. Mottram leaned over his shoulder + and looked intently. + </p> + <p> + ‘I see nothing except some gray blurs in the pupil. There can be nothing + there, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Even so. Well, let’s think. It’ll take half a day to knock up any sort of + coffin; and he must have died at midnight. Lowndes, old man, go out and + tell the coolies to break ground next to Jevins’s grave. Mottram, go round + the house with Chuma and see that the seals are put on things. Send a + couple of men to me here, and I’ll arrange.’ + </p> + <p> + The strong-armed servants when they returned to their own kind told a + strange story of the doctor Sahib vainly trying to call their master back + to life by magic arts,—to wit, the holding of a little green box + that clicked to each of the dead man’s eyes, and of a bewildered muttering + on the part of the doctor Sahib, who took the little green box away with + him. + </p> + <p> + The resonant hammering of a coffin-lid is no pleasant thing to hear, but + those who have experience maintain that much more terrible is the soft + swish of the bed-linen, the reeving and unreeving of the bed-tapes, when + he who has fallen by the roadside is apparelled for burial, sinking + gradually as the tapes are tied over, till the swaddled shape touches the + floor and there is no protest against the indignity of hasty disposal. + </p> + <p> + At the last moment Lowndes was seized with scruples of conscience. ‘Ought + you to read the service,—from beginning to end?’ said he to + Spurstow. + </p> + <p> + ‘I intend to. You’re my senior as a civilian. You can take it if you + like.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I didn’t mean that for a moment. I only thought if we could get a + chaplain from somewhere,—I’m willing to ride anywhere,—and + give poor Hummil a better chance. That’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bosh!’ said Spurstow, as he framed his lips to the tremendous words that + stand at the head of the burial service. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast they smoked a pipe in silence to the memory of the dead. + Then Spurstow said absently— + </p> + <p> + ‘’Tisn’t in medical science.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Things in a dead man’s eye.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For goodness’ sake leave that horror alone!’ said Lowndes. ‘I’ve seen a + native die of pure fright when a tiger chivied him. I know what killed + Hummil.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The deuce you do! I’m going to try to see.’ And the doctor retreated into + the bath-room with a Kodak camera. After a few minutes there was the sound + of something being hammered to pieces, and he emerged, very white indeed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you got a picture?’ said Mottram. ‘What does the thing look like?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was impossible, of course. You needn’t look, Mottram. I’ve torn up the + films. There was nothing there. It was impossible.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That,’ said Lowndes, very distinctly, watching the shaking hand striving + to relight the pipe, ‘is a damned lie.’ + </p> + <p> + Mottram laughed uneasily. ‘Spurstow’s right,’ he said. ‘We’re all in such + a state now that we’d believe anything. For pity’s sake let’s try to be + rational.’ + </p> + <p> + There was no further speech for a long time. The hot wind whistled + without, and the dry trees sobbed. Presently the daily train, winking + brass, burnished steel, and spouting steam, pulled up panting in the + intense glare. ‘We’d better go on on that,’ said Spurstow. ‘Go back to + work. I’ve written my certificate. We can’t do any more good here, and + work’ll keep our wits together. Come on.’ + </p> + <p> + No one moved. It is not pleasant to face railway journeys at mid-day in + June. Spurstow gathered up his hat and whip, and, turning in the doorway, + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘There may be Heaven,—there must be Hell. Meantime, there is our + life here. We-ell?’ + </p> + <p> + Neither Mottram nor Lowndes had any answer to the question. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sec. 7. { Cause } { in forces } Regular forces, + (I) { Consipiring } { belonging } Reserve forces, + { with other } a mutiny { to Her } Auxiliary forces. + { persons to } sedition { Majesty’s } Navy. + { cause } +</pre> + <p> + When three obscure gentlemen in San Francisco argued on insufficient + premises they condemned a fellow-creature to a most unpleasant death in a + far country, which had nothing whatever to do with the United States. They + foregathered at the top of a tenement-house in Tehama Street, an unsavoury + quarter of the city, and, there calling for certain drinks, they conspired + because they were conspirators by trade, officially known as the Third + Three of the I.A.A.—an institution for the propagation of pure + light, not to be confounded with any others, though it is affiliated to + many. The Second Three live in Montreal, and work among the poor there; + the First Three have their home in New York, not far from Castle Garden, + and write regularly once a week to a small house near one of the big + hotels at Boulogne. What happens after that, a particular section of + Scotland Yard knows too well, and laughs at. A conspirator detests + ridicule. More men have been stabbed with Lucrezia Borgia daggers and + dropped into the Thames for laughing at Head Centres and Triangles than + for betraying secrets; for this is human nature. + </p> + <p> + The Third Three conspired over whisky cocktails and a clean sheet of + notepaper against the British Empire and all that lay therein. This work + is very like what men without discernment call politics before a general + election. You pick out and discuss, in the company of congenial friends, + all the weak points in your opponents’ organisation, and unconsciously + dwell upon and exaggerate all their mishaps, till it seems to you a + miracle that the hated party holds together for an hour. + </p> + <p> + ‘Our principle is not so much active demonstration—that we leave to + others—as passive embarrassment, to weaken and unnerve,’ said the + first man. ‘Wherever an organisation is crippled, wherever a confusion is + thrown into any branch of any department, we gain a step for those who + take on the work; we are but the forerunners.’ He was a German enthusiast, + and editor of a newspaper, from whose leading articles he quoted + frequently. + </p> + <p> + ‘That cursed Empire makes so many blunders of her own that unless we + doubled the year’s average I guess it wouldn’t strike her anything special + had occurred,’ said the second man. ‘Are you prepared to say that all our + resources are equal to blowing off the muzzle of a hundred-ton gun or + spiking a ten-thousand-ton ship on a plain rock in clear daylight? They + can beat us at our own game. ‘Better join hands with the practical + branches; we’re in funds now. Try a direct scare in a crowded street. They + value their greasy hides.’ He was the drag upon the wheel, and an + Americanised Irishman of the second generation, despising his own race and + hating the other. He had learned caution. + </p> + <p> + The third man drank his cocktail and spoke no word. He was the strategist, + but unfortunately his knowledge of life was limited. He picked a letter + from his breast-pocket and threw it across the table. That epistle to the + heathen contained some very concise directions from the First Three in New + York. It said— + </p> + <p> + ‘The boom in black iron has already affected the eastern markets, where + our agents have been forcing down the English-held stock among the smaller + buyers who watch the turn of shares. Any immediate operations, such as + western bears, would increase their willingness to unload. This, however, + cannot be expected till they see clearly that foreign iron-masters are + witting to co-operate. Mulcahy should be dispatched to feel the pulse of + the market, and act accordingly. Mavericks are at present the best for our + purpose.—P.D.Q.’ + </p> + <p> + As a message referring to an iron crisis in Pennsylvania, it was + interesting, if not lucid. As a new departure in organised attack on an + outlying English dependency, it was more than interesting. + </p> + <p> + The second man read it through and murmured— + </p> + <p> + ‘Already? Surely they are in too great a hurry. All that Dhulip Singh + could do in India he has done, down to the distribution of his photographs + among the peasantry. Ho! Ho! The Paris firm arranged that, and he has no + substantial money backing from the Other Power. Even our agents in India + know he hasn’t. What is the use of our organisation wasting men on work + that is already done? Of course the Irish regiments in India are half + mutinous as they stand.’ + </p> + <p> + This shows how near a lie may come to the truth. An Irish regiment, for + just so long as it stands still, is generally a hard handful to control, + being reckless and rough. When, however, it is moved in the direction of + musketry-firing, it becomes strangely and unpatriotically content with its + lot. It has even been heard to cheer the Queen with enthusiasm on these + occasions. + </p> + <p> + But the notion of tampering with the army was, from the point of view of + Tehama Street, an altogether sound one. There is no shadow of stability in + the policy of an English Government, and the most sacred oaths of England + would, even if engrossed on vellum, find very few buyers among colonies + and dependencies that have suffered from vain beliefs. But there remains + to England always her army. That cannot change except in the matter of + uniform and equipment. The officers may write to the papers demanding the + heads of the Horse Guards in default of cleaner redress for grievances; + the men may break loose across a country town and seriously startle the + publicans; but neither officers nor men have it in their composition to + mutiny after the continental manner. The English people, when they trouble + to think about the army at all, are, and with justice, absolutely assured + that it is absolutely trustworthy. Imagine for a moment their emotions on + realising that such and such a regiment was in open revolt from causes + directly due to England’s management of Ireland. They would probably send + the regiment to the polls forthwith and examine their own consciences as + to their duty to Erin; but they would never be easy any more. And it was + this vague, unhappy mistrust that the I. A. A. were labouring to produce. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sheer waste of breath,’ said the second man after a pause in the council, + ‘I don’t see the use of tampering with their fool-army, but it has been + tried before and we must try it again. It looks well in the reports. If we + send one man from here you may bet your life that other men are going too. + Order up Mulcahy.’ + </p> + <p> + They ordered him up—a slim, slight, dark-haired young man, devoured + with that blind rancorous hatred of England that only reaches its full + growth across the Atlantic. He had sucked it from his mother’s breast in + the little cabin at the back of the northern avenues of New York; he had + been taught his rights and his wrongs, in German and Irish, on the canal + fronts of Chicago; and San Francisco held men who told him strange and + awful things of the great blind power over the seas. Once, when business + took him across the Atlantic, he had served in an English regiment, and + being insubordinate had suffered extremely. He drew all his ideas of + England that were not bred by the cheaper patriotic prints from one + iron-fisted colonel and an unbending adjutant. He would go to the mines if + need be to teach his gospel. And he went as his instructions advised + p.d.q.—which means ‘with speed’—to introduce embarrassment + into an Irish regiment, ‘already half-mutinous, quartered among Sikh + peasantry, all wearing miniatures of His Highness Dhulip Singh, Maharaja + of the Punjab, next their hearts, and all eagerly expecting his arrival.’ + Other information equally valuable was given him by his masters. He was to + be cautious, but never to grudge expense in winning the hearts of the men + in the regiment. His mother in New York would supply funds, and he was to + write to her once a month. Life is pleasant for a man who has a mother in + New York to send him two hundred pounds a year over and above his + regimental pay. + </p> + <p> + In process of time, thanks to his intimate knowledge of drill and musketry + exercise, the excellent Mulcahy, wearing the corporal’s stripe, went out + in a troopship and joined Her Majesty’s Royal Loyal Musketeers, commonly + known as the ‘Mavericks,’ because they were masterless and unbranded + cattle-sons of small farmers in County Clare, shoeless vagabonds of Kerry, + herders of Bally-vegan, much wanted ‘moonlighters’ from the bare rainy + headlands of the south coast, officered by O’Mores, Bradys, Hills, + Kilreas, and the like. Never to outward seeming was there more promising + material to work on. The First Three had chosen their regiment well. It + feared nothing that moved or talked save the colonel and the regimental + Roman Catholic chaplain, the fat Father Dennis, who held the keys of + heaven and hell, and blared like an angry bull when he desired to be + convincing. Him also it loved because on occasions of stress he was used + to tuck up his cassock and charge with the rest into the merriest of the + fray, where he always found, good man, that the saints sent him a revolver + when there was a fallen private to be protected, or—but this came as + an afterthought—his own gray head to be guarded. + </p> + <p> + Cautiously as he had been instructed, tenderly and with much beer, Mulcahy + opened his projects to such as he deemed fittest to listen. And these + were, one and all, of that quaint, crooked, sweet, profoundly + irresponsible and profoundly lovable race that fight like fiends, argue + like children, reason like women, obey like men, and jest like their own + goblins of the rath through rebellion, loyalty, want, woe, or war. The + underground work of a conspiracy is always dull and very much the same the + world over. At the end of six months—the seed always falling on good + ground—Mulcahy spoke almost explicitly, hinting darkly in the + approved fashion at dread powers behind him, and advising nothing more nor + less than mutiny. Were they not dogs, evilly treated? had they not all + their own and their national revenges to satisfy? Who in these days would + do aught to nine hundred men in rebellion? Who, again, could stay them if + they broke for the sea, licking up on their way other regiments only too + anxious to join? And afterwards... here followed windy promises of gold + and preferment, office, and honour, ever dear to a certain type of + Irishman. + </p> + <p> + As he finished his speech, in the dusk of a twilight, to his chosen + associates, there was a sound of a rapidly unslung belt behind him. The + arm of one Dan Grady flew out in the gloom and arrested something. Then + said Dan—- + </p> + <p> + ‘Mulcahy, you’re a great man, an’ you do credit to whoever sent you. Walk + about a bit while we think of it.’ Mulcahy departed elate. He knew his + words would sink deep. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why the triple-dashed asterisks did ye not let me belt him?’ grunted a + voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Because I’m not a fat-headed fool. Boys, ‘tis what he’s been driving at + these six months—our superior corpril with his education and his + copies of the Irish papers and his everlasting beer. He’s been sent for + the purpose and that’s where the money comes from. Can ye not see? That + man’s a gold-mine, which Horse Egan here would have destroyed with a + belt-buckle. It would be throwing away the gifts of Providence not to fall + in with his little plans. Of coorse we’ll mut’ny till all’s dry. Shoot the + colonel on the parade-ground, massacree the company officers, ransack the + arsenal, and then—Boys, did he tell you what next? He told me the + other night when he was beginning to talk wild. Then we’re to join with + the niggers, and look for help from Dhulip Singh and the Russians!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And spoil the best campaign that ever was this side of Hell! Danny, I’d + have lost the beer to ha’ given him the belting he requires.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, let him go this awhile, man! He’s got no—no constructiveness, + but that’s the egg-meat of his plan, and you must understand that I’m in + with it, an’ so are you. We’ll want oceans of beer to convince us—firmaments + full. We’ll give him talk for his money, and one by one all the boys ‘ll + come in and he’ll have a nest of nine hundred mutineers to squat in an’ + give drink to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What makes me killing-mad is his wanting us to do what the niggers did + thirty years gone. That an’ his pig’s cheek in saying that other regiments + would come along,’ said a Kerry man. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s not so bad as hintin’ we should loose off on the colonel.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Colonel be sugared! I’d as soon as not put a shot through his helmet to + see him jump and clutch his old horse’s head. But Mulcahy talks o’ + shootin’ our comp’ny orf’cers accidental.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He said that, did he?’ said Horse Egan. + </p> + <p> + ‘Somethin’ like that, anyways. Can’t ye fancy ould Barber Brady wid a + bullet in his lungs, coughin’ like a sick monkey, an’ sayin’, “Bhoys, I do + not mind your gettin’ dhrunk, but you must hould your liquor like men. The + man that shot me is dhrunk. I’ll suspend investigations for six hours, + while I get this bullet cut out, an’ then—“’ + </p> + <p> + ‘An’ then,’ continued Horse Egan, for the peppery Major’s peculiarities of + speech and manner were as well known as his tanned face; “‘an’ then, ye + dissolute, half-baked, putty-faced scum o’ Connemara, if I find a man so + much as lookin’ confused, begad, I’ll coort-martial the whole company. A + man that can’t get over his liquor in six hours is not fit to belong to + the Mavericks!”’ + </p> + <p> + A shout of laughter bore witness to the truth of the sketch. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s pretty to think of,’ said the Kerry man slowly. ‘Mulcahy would have + us do all the devilmint, and get clear himself, someways. He wudn’t be + takin’ all this fool’s throuble in shpoilin’ the reputation of the + regiment—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Reputation of your grandmother’s pig!’ said Dan. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, an’ HE had a good reputation tu; so it’s all right. Mulcahy must + see his way to clear out behind him, or he’d not ha’ come so far, talkin’ + powers of darkness.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you hear anything of a regimental court-martial among the Black + Boneens, these days? Half a company of ‘em took one of the new draft an’ + hanged him by his arms with a tent-rope from a third story verandah. They + gave no reason for so doin’, but he was half dead. I’m thinking that the + Boneens are short-sighted. It was a friend of Mulcahy’s, or a man in the + same trade. They’d a deal better ha’ taken his beer,’ returned Dan + reflectively. + </p> + <p> + ‘Better still ha’ handed him up to the Colonel,’ said Horse Egan, ‘onless—but + sure the news wud be all over the counthry an’ give the reg’ment a bad + name.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘An’ there’d be no reward for that man—he but went about talkin’,’ + said the Kerry man artlessly. + </p> + <p> + ‘You speak by your breed,’ said Dan with a laugh. ‘There was never a Kerry + man yet that wudn’t sell his brother for a pipe o’ tobacco an’ a pat on + the back from a p’liceman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Praise God I’m not a bloomin’ Orangeman,’ was the answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, nor never will be,’ said Dan. ‘They breed MEN in Ulster. Would you + like to thry the taste of one?’ + </p> + <p> + The Kerry man looked and longed, but forbore. The odds of battle were too + great. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you’ll not even give Mulcahy a—a strike for his money,’ said + the voice of Horse Egan, who regarded what he called ‘trouble’ of any kind + as the pinnacle of felicity. + </p> + <p> + Dan answered not at all, but crept on tip-toe, with large strides, to the + mess-room, the men following. The room was empty. In a corner, cased like + the King of Dahomey’s state umbrella, stood the regimental Colours. Dan + lifted them tenderly and unrolled in the light of the candles the record + of the Mavericks—tattered, worn, and hacked. The white satin was + darkened everywhere with big brown stains, the gold threads on the crowned + harp were frayed and discoloured, and the Red Bull, the totem of the + Mavericks, was coffee-hued. The stiff, embroidered folds, whose price is + human life, rustled down slowly. The Mavericks keep their colours long and + guard them very sacredly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Vittoria, Salamanca, Toulouse, Waterloo, Moodkee, Ferozshah, an’ Sobraon—that + was fought close next door here, against the very beggars he wants us to + join. Inkermann, The Alma, Sebastopol! What are those little businesses + compared to the campaigns of General Mulcahy? The Mut’ny, think o’ that; + the Mut’ny an’ some dirty little matters in Afghanistan; an’ for that an’ + these an’ those’—Dan pointed to the names of glorious battles—‘that + Yankee man with the partin’ in his hair comes an’ says as easy as “have a + drink.”... Holy Moses, there’s the captain!’ + </p> + <p> + But it was the mess-sergeant who came in just as the men clattered out, + and found the colours uncased. + </p> + <p> + From that day dated the mutiny of the Mavericks, to the joy of Mulcahy and + the pride of his mother in New York—the good lady who sent the money + for the beer. Never, so far as words went, was such a mutiny. The + conspirators, led by Dan Grady and Horse Egan, poured in daily. They were + sound men, men to be trusted, and they all wanted blood; but first they + must have beer. They cursed the Queen, they mourned over Ireland, they + suggested hideous plunder of the Indian country side, and then, alas—some + of the younger men would go forth and wallow on the ground in spasms of + wicked laughter. + </p> + <p> + The genius of the Irish for conspiracies is remarkable. None the less they + would swear no oaths but those of their own making, which were rare and + curious, and they were always at pains to impress Mulcahy with the risks + they ran. Naturally the flood of beer wrought demoralisation. But Mulcahy + confused the causes of things, and when a very muzzy Maverick smote a + sergeant on the nose or called his commanding officer a bald-headed old + lard-bladder and even worse names, he fancied that rebellion and not + liquor was at the bottom of the outbreak. Other gentlemen who have + concerned themselves in larger conspiracies have made the same error. + </p> + <p> + The hot season, in which they protested no man could rebel, came to an + end, and Mulcahy suggested a visible return for his teachings. As to the + actual upshot of the mutiny he cared nothing. It would be enough if the + English, infatuatedly trusting to the integrity of their army, should be + startled with news of an Irish regiment revolting from political + considerations. His persistent demands would have ended, at Dan’s + instigation, in a regimental belting which in all probability would have + killed him and cut off the supply of beer, had not he been sent on special + duty some fifty miles away from the cantonment to cool his heels in a mud + fort and dismount obsolete artillery. Then the colonel of the Mavericks, + reading his newspaper diligently, and scenting Frontier trouble from afar, + posted to the army headquarters and pled with the Commander-in-chief for + certain privileges, to be granted under certain contingencies; which + contingencies came about only a week later, when the annual little war on + the border developed itself and the colonel returned to carry the good + news to the Mavericks. He held the promise of the Chief for active + service, and the men must get ready. + </p> + <p> + On the evening of the same day, Mulcahy, an unconsidered corporal—yet + great in conspiracy—returned to cantonments, and heard sounds of + strife and howlings from afar off. The mutiny had broken out and the + barracks of the Mavericks were one white-washed pandemonium. A private + tearing through the barrack-square, gasped in his ear, ‘Service! Active + service. It’s a burnin’ shame.’ Oh joy, the Mavericks had risen on the eve + of battle! They would not—noble and loyal sons of Ireland—serve + the Queen longer. The news would flash through the country side and over + to England, and he—Mulcahy—the trusted of the Third Three, had + brought about the crash. The private stood in the middle of the square and + cursed colonel, regiment, officers, and doctor, particularly the doctor, + by his gods. An orderly of the native cavalry regiment clattered through + the mob of soldiers. He was half lifted, half dragged from his horse, + beaten on the back with mighty hand-claps till his eyes watered, and + called all manner of endearing names. Yes, the Mavericks had fraternised + with the native troops. Who then was the agent among the latter that had + blindly wrought with Mulcahy so well? + </p> + <p> + An officer slunk, almost ran, from the mess to a barrack. He was mobbed by + the infuriated soldiery, who closed round but did not kill him, for he + fought his way to shelter, flying for the life. Mulcahy could have wept + with pure joy and thankfulness. The very prisoners in the guard-room were + shaking the bars of their cells and howling like wild beasts, and from + every barrack poured the booming as of a big war-drum. + </p> + <p> + Mulcahy hastened to his own barrack. He could hardly hear himself speak. + Eighty men were pounding with fist and heel the tables and trestles—eighty + men, flushed with mutiny, stripped to their shirt sleeves, their knapsacks + half-packed for the march to the sea, made the two-inch boards thunder + again as they chanted to a tune that Mulcahy knew well, the Sacred War + Song of the Mavericks— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Listen in the north, my boys, there’s trouble on the wind; + Tramp o’ Cossack hooves in front, gray great-coats behind, + Trouble on the Frontier of a most amazin’ kind, + Trouble on the waters o’ the Oxus! +</pre> + <p> + Then, as a table broke under the furious accompaniment— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hurrah! hurrah! it’s north by west we go; + Hurrah! hurrah! the chance we wanted so; + Let ‘em hear the chorus from Umballa to MosCOW, + As we go marchin’ to the Kremling. +</pre> + <p> + ‘Mother of all the saints in bliss and all the devils in cinders, where’s + my fine new sock widout the heel?’ howled Horse Egan, ransacking + everybody’s valise but his own. He was engaged in making up deficiencies + of kit preparatory to a campaign, and in that work he steals best who + steals last. ‘Ah, Mulcahy, you’re in good time,’ he shouted. ‘We’ve got + the route, and we’re off on Thursday for a pic-nic wid the Lancers next + door.’ + </p> + <p> + An ambulance orderly appeared with a huge basket full of lint rolls, + provided by the forethought of the Queen for such as might need them later + on. Horse Egan unrolled his bandage, and flicked it under Mulcahy’s nose, + chanting— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Sheepskin an’ bees’ wax, thunder, pitch, and plaster, + The more you try to pull it off, the more it sticks the faster. + As I was goin’ to New Orleans— +</pre> + <p> + ‘You know the rest of it, my Irish American-Jew boy. By gad, ye have to + fight for the Queen in the inside av a fortnight, my darlin’.’ + </p> + <p> + A roar of laughter interrupted. Mulcahy looked vacantly down the room. Bid + a boy defy his father when the pantomime-cab is at the door; or a girl + develop a will of her own when her mother is putting the last touches to + the first ball-dress; but do not ask an Irish regiment to embark upon + mutiny on the eve of a campaign; when it has fraternised with the native + regiment that accompanies it, and driven its officers into retirement with + ten thousand clamorous questions, and the prisoners dance for joy, and the + sick men stand in the open, calling down all known diseases on the head of + the doctor, who has certified that they are “medically unfit for active + service.” At even the Mavericks might have been mistaken for mutineers by + one so unversed in their natures as Mulcahy. At dawn a girls’ school might + have learned deportment from them. They knew that their colonel’s hand had + closed, and that he who broke that iron discipline would not go to the + front: nothing in the world will persuade one of our soldiers when he is + ordered to the north on the smallest of affairs that he is not immediately + going gloriously to slay Cossacks and cook his kettles in the palace of + the Czar. A few of the younger men mourned for Mulcahy’s beer, because the + campaign was to be conducted on strict temperance principles, but as Dan + and Horse Egan said sternly, ‘We’ve got the beer-man with us. He shall + drink now on his own hook.’ + </p> + <p> + Mulcahy had not taken into account the possibility of being sent on active + service. He had made up his mind that he would not go under any + circumstances, but fortune was against him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sick—you?’ said the doctor, who had served an unholy apprenticeship + to his trade in Tralee poorhouses. ‘You’re only home-sick, and what you + call varicose veins come from over-eating. A little gentle exercise will + cure that.’ And later, ‘Mulcahy, my man, everybody is allowed to apply for + a sick-certificate ONCE. If he tries it twice we call him by an ugly name. + Go back to your duty, and let’s hear no more of your diseases.’ + </p> + <p> + I am ashamed to say that Horse Egan enjoyed the study of Mulcahy’s soul in + those days, and Dan took an equal interest. Together they would + communicate to their corporal all the dark lore of death which is the + portion of those who have seen men die. Egan had the larger experience, + but Dan the finer imagination. Mulcahy shivered when the former spoke of + the knife as an intimate acquaintance, or the latter dwelt with loving + particularity on the fate of those who, wounded and helpless, had been + overlooked by the ambulances, and had fallen into the hands of the Afghan + women-folk. + </p> + <p> + Mulcahy knew that the mutiny, for the present at least, was dead; knew, + too, that a change had come over Dan’s usually respectful attitude towards + him, and Horse Egan’s laughter and frequent allusions to abortive + conspiracies emphasised all that the conspirator had guessed. The horrible + fascination of the death-stories, however, made him seek the men’s + society. He learnt much more than he had bargained for; and in this + manner: It was on the last night before the regiment entrained to the + front. The barracks were stripped of everything movable, and the men were + too excited to sleep. The bare walls gave out a heavy hospital smell of + chloride of lime. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what,’ said Mulcahy in an awe-stricken whisper, after some + conversation on the eternal subject, ‘are you going to do to me, Dan?’ + This might have been the language of an able conspirator conciliating a + weak spirit. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll see,’ said Dan grimly, turning over in his cot, ‘or I rather shud + say you’ll not see.’ + </p> + <p> + This was hardly the language of a weak spirit. Mulcahy shook under the + bed-clothes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Be easy with him,’ put in Egan from the next cot. ‘He has got his chanst + o’ goin’ clean. Listen, Mulcahy; all we want is for the good sake of the + regiment that you take your death standing up, as a man shud. There be + heaps an’ heaps of enemy—plenshus heaps. Go there an’ do all you can + and die decent. You’ll die with a good name THERE. ‘Tis not a hard thing + considerin’.’ + </p> + <p> + Again Mulcahy shivered. + </p> + <p> + ‘An’ how could a man wish to die better than fightin’?’ added Dan + consolingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘And if I won’t?’ said the corporal in a dry whisper. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’ll be a dale of smoke,’ returned Dan, sitting up and ticking off + the situation on his fingers, ‘sure to be, an’ the noise of the firin’ ‘ll + be tremenjus, an’ we’ll be running about up and down, the regiment will. + But WE, Horse and I—we’ll stay by you, Mulcahy, and never let you + go. Maybe there’ll be an accident.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s playing it low on me. Let me go. For pity’s sake let me go. I never + did you harm, and—and I stood you as much beer as I could. Oh, don’t + be hard on me, Dan! You are—you were in it too. You won’t kill me up + there, will you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not thinkin’ of the treason; though you shud be glad any honest boys + drank with you. It’s for the regiment. We can’t have the shame o’ you + bringin’ shame on us. You went to the doctor quiet as a sick cat to get + and stay behind an’ live with the women at the depot—you that wanted + us to run to the sea in wolf-packs like the rebels none of your black + blood dared to be! But WE knew about your goin’ to the doctor, for he told + in mess, and it’s all over the regiment. Bein’, as we are, your best + friends, we didn’t allow any one to molest you YET. We will see to you + ourselves. Fight which you will—us or the enemy—you’ll never + lie in that cot again, and there’s more glory and maybe less kicks from + fightin’ the enemy. That’s fair speakin’.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And he told us by word of mouth to go and join with the niggers—you’ve + forgotten that, Dan,’ said Horse Egan, to justify sentence. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the use of plaguin’ the man? One shot pays for all. Sleep ye + sound, Mulcahy. But you onderstand, do ye not?’ + </p> + <p> + Mulcahy for some weeks understood very little of anything at all save that + ever at his elbow, in camp, or at parade, stood two big men with soft + voices adjuring him to commit hari-kari lest a worse thing should happen—to + die for the honour of the regiment in decency among the nearest knives. + But Mulcahy dreaded death. He remembered certain things that priests had + said in his infancy, and his mother—not the one at New York—starting + from her sleep with shrieks to pray for a husband’s soul in torment. It is + well to be of a cultured intelligence, but in time of trouble the weak + human mind returns to the creed it sucked in at the breast, and if that + creed be not a pretty one trouble follows. Also, the death he would have + to face would be physically painful. Most conspirators have large + imaginations. Mulcahy could see himself, as he lay on the earth in the + night, dying by various causes. They were all horrible; the mother in New + York was very far away, and the Regiment, the engine that, once you fall + in its grip, moves you forward whether you will or won’t, was daily coming + closer to the enemy! + </p> + <p> + They were brought to the field of Marzun-Katai, and with the Black Boneens + to aid, they fought a fight that has never been set down in the + newspapers. In response, many believe, to the fervent prayers of Father + Dennis, the enemy not only elected to fight in the open, but made a + beautiful fight, as many weeping Irish mothers knew later. They gathered + behind walls or flickered across the open in shouting masses, and were + pot-valiant in artillery. It was expedient to hold a large reserve and + wait for the psychological moment that was being prepared by the shrieking + shrapnel. Therefore the Mavericks lay down in open order on the brow of a + hill to watch the play till their call should come. Father Dennis, whose + duty was in the rear, to smooth the trouble of the wounded, had naturally + managed to make his way to the foremost of his boys and lay like a black + porpoise, at length on the grass. To him crawled Mulcahy, ashen-gray, + demanding absolution. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait till you’re shot,’ said Father Dennis sweetly. ‘There’s a time for + everything.’ + </p> + <p> + Dan Grady chuckled as he blew for the fiftieth time into the breech of his + speckless rifle. Mulcahy groaned and buried his head in his arms till a + stray shot spoke like a snipe immediately above his head, and a general + heave and tremour rippled the line. Other shots followed and a few took + effect, as a shriek or a grunt attested. The officers, who had been lying + down with the men, rose and began to walk steadily up and down the front + of their companies. + </p> + <p> + This manoeuvre, executed, not for publication, but as a guarantee of good + faith, to soothe men, demands nerve. You must not hurry, you must not look + nervous, though you know that you are a mark for every rifle within + extreme range, and above all if you are smitten you must make as little + noise as possible and roll inwards through the files. It is at this hour, + when the breeze brings the first salt whiff of the powder to noses rather + cold at the tip, and the eye can quietly take in the appearance of each + red casualty, that the strain on the nerves is strongest. Scotch regiments + can endure for half a day and abate no whit of their zeal at the end; + English regiments sometimes sulk under punishment, while the Irish, like + the French, are apt to run forward by ones and twos, which is just as bad + as running back. The truly wise commandant of highly strung troops allows + them, in seasons of waiting, to hear the sound of their own voices + uplifted in song. There is a legend of an English regiment that lay by its + arms under fire chaunting ‘Sam Hall,’ to the horror of its newly appointed + and pious colonel. The Black Boneens, who were suffering more than the + Mavericks, on a hill half a mile away, began presently to explain to all + who cared to listen— + </p> + <p> + We’ll sound the jubilee, from the centre to the sea, And Ireland shall be + free, says the Shan-van Vogh. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sing, boys,’ said Father Dennis softly. ‘It looks as if we cared for + their Afghan peas.’ + </p> + <p> + Dan Grady raised himself to his knees and opened his mouth in a song + imparted to him, as to most of his comrades, in the strictest confidence + by Mulcahy—-the Mulcahy then lying limp and fainting on the grass, + the chill fear of death upon him. + </p> + <p> + Company after company caught up the words which, the I. A. A. say, are to + herald the general rising of Erin, and to breathe which, except to those + duly appointed to hear, is death. Wherefore they are printed in this + place. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Saxon in Heaven’s just balance is weighed, + His doom like Belshazzar’s in death has been cast, + And the hand of the venger shall never be stayed + Till his race, faith, and speech are a dream of the past. +</pre> + <p> + They were heart-filling lines and they ran with a swirl; the I. A. A. are + better served by their pens than their petards. Dan clapped Mulcahy + merrily on the back, asking him to sing up. The officers lay down again. + There was no need to walk any more. Their men were soothing themselves + thunderously, thus— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + St. Mary in Heaven has written the vow + That the land shall not rest till the heretic blood, + From the babe at the breast to the hand at the plough, + Has rolled to the ocean like Shannon in flood! +</pre> + <p> + ‘I’ll speak to you after all’s over,’ said Father Dennis authoritatively + in Dan’s ear. ‘What’s the use of confessing to me when you do this + foolishness? Dan, you’ve been playing with fire! I’ll lay you more penance + in a week than—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come along to Purgatory with us, Father dear. The Boneens are on the + move; they’ll let us go now!’ + </p> + <p> + The regiment rose to the blast of the bugle as one man; but one man there + was who rose more swiftly than all the others, for half an inch of bayonet + was in the fleshy part of his leg. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve got to do it,’ said Dan grimly. ‘Do it decent, anyhow;’ and the + roar of the rush drowned his words, for the rear companies thrust forward + the first, still singing as they swung down the slope—- + </p> + <p> + From the child at the breast to the hand at the plough Shall roll to the + ocean like Shannon in flood! + </p> + <p> + They should have sung it in the face of England, not of the Afghans, whom, + it impressed as much as did the wild Irish yell. + </p> + <p> + ‘They came down singing,’ said the unofficial report of the enemy, borne + from village to village the next day. ‘They continued to sing, and it was + written that our men could not abide when they came. It is believed that + there was magic in the aforesaid song.’ + </p> + <p> + Dan and Horse Egan kept themselves in the neighbourhood of Mulcahy. Twice + the man would have bolted back in the confusion. Twice he was heaved, + kicked, and shouldered back again into the unpaintable inferno of a hotly + contested charge. + </p> + <p> + At the end, the panic excess of his fear drove him into madness beyond all + human courage. His eyes staring at nothing, his mouth open and frothing, + and breathing as one in a cold bath, he went forward demented, while Dan + toiled after him. The charge checked at a high mud wall. It was Mulcahy + who scrambled up tooth and nail and hurled down among the bayonets the + amazed Afghan who barred his way. It was Mulcahy, keeping to the straight + line of the rabid dog, who led a collection of ardent souls at a newly + unmasked battery and flung himself on the muzzle of a gun as his + companions danced among the gunners. It was Mulcahy who ran wildly on from + that battery into the open plain, where the enemy were retiring in sullen + groups. His hands were empty, he had lost helmet and belt, and he was + bleeding from a wound in the neck. Dan and Horse Egan, panting and + distressed, had thrown themselves down on the ground by the captured guns, + when they noticed Mulcahy’s charge. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mad,’ said Horse Egan critically. ‘Mad with fear! He’s going straight to + his death, an’ shouting’s no use.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let him go. Watch now! If we fire we’ll hit him, maybe.’ + </p> + <p> + The last of a hurrying crowd of Afghans turned at the noise of shod feet + behind him, and shifted his knife ready to hand. This, he saw, was no time + to take prisoners. Mulcahy tore on, sobbing; the straight-held blade went + home through the defenceless breast, and the body pitched forward almost + before a shot from Dan’s rifle brought down the slayer and still further + hurried the Afghan retreat. The two Irishmen went out to bring in their + dead. + </p> + <p> + ‘He was given the point and that was an easy death,’ said Horse Egan, + viewing the corpse. ‘But would you ha’ shot him, Danny, if he had lived?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He didn’t live, so there’s no sayin’. But I doubt I wud have bekase of + the fun he gave us—let alone the beer. Hike up his legs, Horse, and + we’ll bring him in. Perhaps ‘tis better this way.’ + </p> + <p> + They bore the poor limp body to the mass of the regiment, lolling + open-mouthed on their rifles; and there was a general snigger when one of + the younger subalterns said, ‘That was a good man!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Phew,’ said Horse Egan, when a burial-party had taken over the burden. + ‘I’m powerful dhry, and this reminds me there’ll be no more beer at all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fwhy not?’ said Dan, with a twinkle in his eye as he stretched himself + for rest. ‘Are we not conspirin’ all we can, an’ while we conspire are we + not entitled to free dhrinks? Sure his ould mother in New York would not + let her son’s comrades perish of drouth—if she can be reached at the + end of a letter.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re a janius,’ said Horse Egan. ‘O’ coorse she will not. I wish this + crool war was over an’ we’d get back to canteen. Faith, the + Commander-in-Chief ought to be hanged in his own little sword-belt for + makin’ us work on wather.’ + </p> + <p> + The Mavericks were generally of Horse Egan’s opinion. So they made haste + to get their work done as soon as possible, and their industry was + rewarded by unexpected peace. ‘We can fight the sons of Adam,’ said the + tribesmen, ‘but we cannot fight the sons of Eblis, and this regiment never + stays still in one place. Let us therefore come in.’ They came in and + ‘this regiment’ withdrew to conspire under the leadership of Dan Grady. + </p> + <p> + Excellent as a subordinate Dan failed altogether as a chief-in-command—possibly + because he was too much swayed by the advice of the only man in the + regiment who could manufacture more than one kind of handwriting. The same + mail that bore to Mulcahy’s mother in New York a letter from the colonel + telling her how valiantly her son had fought for the Queen, and how + assuredly he would have been recommended for the Victoria Cross had he + survived, carried a communication signed, I grieve to say, by that same + colonel and all the officers of the regiment, explaining their willingness + to do ‘anything which is contrary to the regulations and all kinds of + revolutions’ if only a little money could be forwarded to cover incidental + expenses. Daniel Grady, Esquire, would receive funds, vice Mulcahy, who + ‘was unwell at this present time of writing.’ + </p> + <p> + Both letters were forwarded from New York to Tehama Street, San Francisco, + with marginal comments as brief as they were bitter. The Third Three read + and looked at each other. Then the Second Conspirator-he who believed in + ‘joining hands with the practical branches’—-began to laugh, and on + recovering his gravity said, ‘Gentlemen, I consider this will be a lesson + to us. We’re left again. Those cursed Irish have let us down. I knew they + would, but’-here he laughed afresh-’I’d give considerable to know what was + at the back of it all.’ + </p> + <p> + His curiosity would have been satisfied had he seen Dan Grady, discredited + regimental conspirator, trying to explain to his thirsty comrades in India + the non-arrival of funds from New York. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MARK OF THE BEAST + </h2> + <p> + Your Gods and my Gods-do you or I know which are the stronger? Native + Proverb. + </p> + <p> + EAST of Suez, some hold, the direct control of Providence ceases; Man + being there handed over to the power of the Gods and Devils of Asia, and + the Church of England Providence only exercising an occasional and + modified supervision in the case of Englishmen. + </p> + <p> + This theory accounts for some of the more unnecessary horrors of life in + India: it may be stretched to explain my story. + </p> + <p> + My friend Strickland of the Police, who knows as much of natives of India + as is good for any man, can bear witness to the facts of the case. + Dumoise, our doctor, also saw what Strickland and I saw. The inference + which he drew from the evidence was entirely incorrect. He is dead now; he + died, in a rather curious manner, which has been elsewhere described. + </p> + <p> + When Fleete came to India he owned a little money and some land in the + Himalayas, near a place called Dharmsala. Both properties had been left + him by an uncle, and he came out to finance them. He was a big, heavy, + genial, and inoffensive man. His knowledge of natives was, of course, + limited, and he complained of the difficulties of the language. + </p> + <p> + He rode in from his place in the hills to spend New Year in the station, + and he stayed with Strickland. On New Year’s Eve there was a big dinner at + the club, and the night was excusably wet. When men foregather from the + uttermost ends of the Empire, they have a right to be riotous. The + Frontier had sent down a contingent o’ Catch-’em-Alive-O’s who had not + seen twenty white faces for a year, and were used to ride fifteen miles to + dinner at the next Fort at the risk of a Khyberee bullet where their + drinks should lie. They profited by their new security, for they tried to + play pool with a curled-up hedgehog found in the garden, and one of them + carried the marker round the room in his teeth. Half a dozen planters had + come in from the south and were talking ‘horse’ to the Biggest Liar in + Asia, who was trying to cap all their stories at once. Everybody was + there, and there was a general closing up of ranks and taking stock of our + losses in dead or disabled that had fallen during the past year. It was a + very wet night, and I remember that we sang ‘Auld Lang Syne’ with our feet + in the Polo Championship Cup, and our heads among the stars, and swore + that we were all dear friends. Then some of us went away and annexed + Burma, and some tried to open up the Soudan and were opened up by Fuzzies + in that cruel scrub outside Suakim, and some found stars and medals, and + some were married, which was bad, and some did other things which were + worse, and the others of us stayed in our chains and strove to make money + on insufficient experiences. + </p> + <p> + Fleete began the night with sherry and bitters, drank champagne steadily + up to dessert, then raw, rasping Capri with all the strength of whisky, + took Benedictine with his coffee, four or five whiskies and sodas to + improve his pool strokes, beer and bones at half-past two, winding up with + old brandy. Consequently, when he came out, at half-past three in the + morning, into fourteen degrees of frost, he was very angry with his horse + for coughing, and tried to leapfrog into the saddle. The horse broke away + and went to his stables; so Strickland and I formed a Guard of Dishonour + to take Fleete home. + </p> + <p> + Our road lay through the bazaar, close to a little temple of Hanuman, the + Monkey-god, who is a leading divinity worthy of respect. All gods have + good points, just as have all priests. Personally, I attach much + importance to Hanuman, and am kind to his people—the great gray apes + of the hills. One never knows when one may want a friend. + </p> + <p> + There was a light in the temple, and as we passed, we could hear voices of + men chanting hymns. In a native temple, the priests rise at all hours of + the night to do honour to their god. Before we could stop him, Fleete + dashed up the steps, patted two priests on the back, and was gravely + grinding the ashes of his cigar-butt into the forehead of the red stone + image of Hanuman. Strickland tried to drag him out, but he sat down and + said solemnly: + </p> + <p> + ‘Shee that? ‘Mark of the B-beasht! <i>I</i> made it. Ishn’t it fine?’ + </p> + <p> + In half a minute the temple was alive and noisy, and Strickland, who knew + what came of polluting gods, said that things might occur. He, by virtue + of his official position, long residence in the country, and weakness for + going among the natives, was known to the priests and he felt unhappy. + Fleete sat on the ground and refused to move. He said that ‘good old + Hanuman’ made a very soft pillow. + </p> + <p> + Then, without any warning, a Silver Man came out of a recess behind the + image of the god. He was perfectly naked in that bitter, bitter cold, and + his body shone like frosted silver, for he was what the Bible calls ‘a + leper as white as snow.’ Also he had no face, because he was a leper of + some years’ standing and his disease was heavy upon him. We two stooped to + haul Fleete up, and the temple was filling and filling with folk who + seemed to spring from the earth, when the Silver Man ran in under our + arms, making a noise exactly like the mewing of an otter, caught Fleete + round the body and dropped his head on Fleete’s breast before we could + wrench him away. Then he retired to a corner and sat mewing while the + crowd blocked all the doors. + </p> + <p> + The priests were very angry until the Silver Man touched Fleete. That + nuzzling seemed to sober them. + </p> + <p> + At the end of a few minutes’ silence one of the priests came to Strickland + and said, in perfect English, ‘Take your friend away. He has done with + Hanuman, but Hanurnan has not done with him.’ The crowd gave room and we + carried Fleete into the road. + </p> + <p> + Strickland was very angry. He said that we might all three have been + knifed, and that Fleete should thank his stars that he had escaped without + injury. + </p> + <p> + Fleete thanked no one. He said that he wanted to go to bed. He was + gorgeously drunk. + </p> + <p> + We moved on, Strickland silent and wrathful, until Fleete was taken with + violent shivering fits and sweating. He said that the smells of the bazaar + were overpowering, and he wondered why slaughter-houses were permitted so + near English residences. ‘Can’t you smell the blood?’ said Fleete. + </p> + <p> + We put him to bed at last, just as the dawn was breaking, and Strickland + invited me to have another whisky and soda. While we were drinking he + talked of the trouble in the temple, and admitted that it baffled him + completely. Strickland hates being mystified by natives, because his + business in life is to overmatch them with their own weapons. He has not + yet succeeded in doing this, but in fifteen or twenty years he will have + made some small progress. + </p> + <p> + ‘They should have mauled us,’ he said, ‘instead of mewing at us. I wonder + what they meant. I don’t like it one little bit.’ + </p> + <p> + I said that the Managing Committee of the temple would in all probability + bring a criminal action against us for insulting their religion. There was + a section of the Indian Penal Code which exactly met Fleete’s offence. + Strickland said he only hoped and prayed that they would do this. Before I + left I looked into Fleete’s room, and saw him lying on his right side, + scratching his left breast. Then. I went to bed cold, depressed, and + unhappy, at seven o’clock in the morning. + </p> + <p> + At one o’clock I rode over to Strickland’s house to inquire after Fleete’s + head. I imagined that it would be a sore one. Fleete was breakfasting and + seemed unwell. His temper was gone, for he was abusing the cook for not + supplying him with an underdone chop. A man who can eat raw meat after a + wet night is a curiosity. I told Fleete this and he laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘You breed queer mosquitoes in these parts,’ he said. ‘I’ve been bitten to + pieces, but only in one place.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s have a look at the bite,’ said Strickland. ‘It may have gone down + since this morning.’ + </p> + <p> + While the chops were being cooked, Fleete opened his shirt and showed us, + just over his left breast, a mark, the perfect double of the black + rosettes—the five or six irregular blotches arranged in a circle—on + a leopard’s hide. Strickland looked and said, ‘It was only pink this + morning. It’s grown black now.’ + </p> + <p> + Fleete ran to a glass. + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jove!’ he said,’ this is nasty. What is it?’ + </p> + <p> + We could not answer. Here the chops came in, all red and juicy, and Fleete + bolted three in a most offensive manner. He ate on his right grinders + only, and threw his head over his right shoulder as he snapped the meat. + When he had finished, it struck him that he had been behaving strangely, + for he said apologetically, ‘I don’t think I ever felt so hungry in my + life. I’ve bolted like an ostrich.’ + </p> + <p> + After breakfast Strickland said to me, ‘Don’t go. Stay here, and stay for + the night.’ + </p> + <p> + Seeing that my house was not three miles from Strickland’s, this request + was absurd. But Strickland insisted, and was going to say something when + Fleete interrupted by declaring in a shamefaced way that he felt hungry + again. Strickland sent a man to my house to fetch over my bedding and a + horse, and we three went down to Strickland’s stables to pass the hours + until it was time to go out for a ride. The man who has a weakness for + horses never wearies of inspecting them; and when two men are killing time + in this way they gather knowledge and lies the one from the other. + </p> + <p> + There were five horses in the stables, and I shall never forget the scene + as we tried to look them over. They seemed to have gone mad. They reared + and screamed and nearly tore up their pickets; they sweated and shivered + and lathered and were distraught with fear. Strickland’s horses used to + know him as well as his dogs; which made the matter more curious. We left + the stable for fear of the brutes throwing themselves in their panic. Then + Strickland turned back and called me. The horses were still frightened, + but they let us ‘gentle’ and make much of them, and put their heads in our + bosoms. + </p> + <p> + ‘They aren’t afraid of US,’ said Strickland. ‘D’you know, I’d give three + months’ pay if OUTRAGE here could talk.’ + </p> + <p> + But Outrage was dumb, and could only cuddle up to his master and blow out + his nostrils, as is the custom of horses when they wish to explain things + but can’t. Fleete came up when we were in the stalls, and as soon as the + horses saw him, their fright broke out afresh. It was all that we could do + to escape from the place unkicked. Strickland said, ‘They don’t seem to + love you, Fleete.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense,’ said Fleete; ‘my mare will follow me like a dog.’ He went to + her; she was in a loose-box; but as he slipped the bars she plunged, + knocked him down, and broke away into the garden. I laughed, but + Strickland was not amused. He took his moustache in both fists and pulled + at it till it nearly came out. Fleete, instead of going off to chase his + property, yawned, saying that he felt sleepy. He went to the house to lie + down, which was a foolish way of spending New Year’s Day. + </p> + <p> + Strickland sat with me in the stables and asked if I had noticed anything + peculiar in Fleete’s manner. I said that he ate his food like a beast; but + that this might have been the result of living alone in the hills out of + the reach of society as refined and elevating as ours for instance. + Strickland was not amused. I do not think that he listened to me, for his + next sentence referred to the mark on Fleete’s breast, and I said that it + might have been caused by blister-flies, or that it was possibly a + birth-mark newly born and now visible for the first time. We both agreed + that it was unpleasant to look at, and Strickland found occasion to say + that I was a fool. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t tell you what I think now,’ said he, ‘because you would call me a + madman; but you must stay with me for the next few days, if you can. I + want you to watch Fleete, but don’t tell me what you think till I have + made up my mind.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I am dining out to-night,’ I said. ‘So am I,’ said Strickland, ‘and + so is Fleete. At least if he doesn’t change his mind.’ + </p> + <p> + We walked about the garden smoking, but saying nothing—because we + were friends, and talking spoils good tobacco—till our pipes were + out. Then we went to wake up Fleete. He was wide awake and fidgeting about + his room. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, I want some more chops,’ he said. ‘Can I get them?’ + </p> + <p> + We laughed and said, ‘Go and change. The ponies will be round in a + minute.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ said Fleete. I’ll go when I get the chops—underdone + ones, mind.’ + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be quite in earnest. It was four o’clock, and we had had + breakfast at one; still, for a long time, he demanded those underdone + chops. Then he changed into riding clothes and went out into the verandah. + His pony—the mare had not been caught—would not let him come + near. All three horses were unmanageable—-mad with fear—-and + finally Fleete said that he would stay at home and get something to eat. + Strickland and I rode out wondering. As we passed the temple of Hanuman, + the Silver Man came out and mewed at us. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is not one of the regular priests of the temple,’ said Strickland. ‘I + think I should peculiarly like to lay my hands on him.’ + </p> + <p> + There was no spring in our gallop on the racecourse that evening. The + horses were stale, and moved as though they had been ridden out. + </p> + <p> + ‘The fright after breakfast has been too much for them,’ said Strickland. + </p> + <p> + That was the only remark he made through the remainder of the ride. Once + or twice I think he swore to himself; but that did not count. + </p> + <p> + We came back in the dark at seven o’clock, and saw that there were no + lights in the bungalow. ‘Careless ruffians my servants are!’ said + Strickland. + </p> + <p> + My horse reared at something on the carriage drive, and Fleete stood up + under its nose. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you doing, grovelling about the garden?’ said Strickland. + </p> + <p> + But both horses bolted and nearly threw us. We dismounted by the stables + and returned to Fleete, who was on his hands and knees under the + orange-bushes. + </p> + <p> + ‘What the devil’s wrong with you?’ said Strickland. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing, nothing in the world,’ said Fleete, speaking very quickly and + thickly. ‘I’ve been gardening-botanising you know. The smell of the earth + is delightful. I think I’m going for a walk-a long walk-all night.’ + </p> + <p> + Then I saw that there was something excessively out of order somewhere, + and I said to Strickland, ‘I am not dining out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bless you!’ said Strickland. ‘Here, Fleete, get up. You’ll catch fever + there. Come in to dinner and let’s have the lamps lit. We ‘ll all dine at + home.’ + </p> + <p> + Fleete stood up unwillingly, and said, ‘No lamps-no lamps. It’s much nicer + here. Let’s dine outside and have some more chops-lots of ‘em and + underdone—bloody ones with gristle.’ + </p> + <p> + Now a December evening in Northern India is bitterly cold, and Fleete’s + suggestion was that of a maniac. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come in,’ said Strickland sternly. ‘Come in at once.’ + </p> + <p> + Fleete came, and when the lamps were brought, we saw that he was literally + plastered with dirt from head to foot. He must have been rolling in the + garden. He shrank from the light and went to his room. His eyes were + horrible to look at. There was a green light behind them, not in them, if + you understand, and the man’s lower lip hung down. + </p> + <p> + Strickland said, ‘There is going to be trouble-big trouble-to-night. Don’t + you change your riding-things.’ + </p> + <p> + We waited and waited for Fleete’s reappearance, and ordered dinner in the + meantime. We could hear him moving about his own room, but there was no + light there. Presently from the room came the long-drawn howl of a wolf. + </p> + <p> + People write and talk lightly of blood running cold and hair standing up + and things of that kind. Both sensations are too horrible to be trifled + with. My heart stopped as though a knife had been driven through it, and + Strickland turned as white as the tablecloth. + </p> + <p> + The howl was repeated, and was answered by another howl far across the + fields. + </p> + <p> + That set the gilded roof on the horror. Strickland dashed into Fleete’s + room. I followed, and we saw Fleete getting out of the window. He made + beast-noises in the back of his throat. He could not answer us when we + shouted at him. He spat. + </p> + <p> + I don’t quite remember what followed, but I think that Strickland must + have stunned him with the long boot-jack or else I should never have been + able to sit on his chest. Fleete could not speak, he could only snarl, and + his snarls were those of a wolf, not of a man. The human spirit must have + been giving way all day and have died out with the twilight. We were + dealing with a beast that had once been Fleete. + </p> + <p> + The affair was beyond any human and rational experience. I tried to say + ‘Hydrophobia,’ but the word wouldn’t come, because I knew that I was + lying. + </p> + <p> + We bound this beast with leather thongs of the punkah-rope, and tied its + thumbs and big toes together, and gagged it with a shoe-horn, which makes + a very efficient gag if you know how to arrange it. Then we carried it + into the dining-room, and sent a man to Dumoise, the doctor, telling him + to come over at once. After we had despatched the messenger and were + drawing breath, Strickland said, ‘It’s no good. This isn’t any doctor’s + work.’ I, also, knew that he spoke the truth. + </p> + <p> + The beast’s head was free, and it threw it about from side to side. Any + one entering the room would have believed that we were curing a wolf’s + pelt. That was the most loathsome accessory of all. + </p> + <p> + Strickland sat with his chin in the heel of his fist, watching the beast + as it wriggled on the ground, but saying nothing. The shirt had been torn + open in the scuffle and showed the black rosette mark on the left breast. + It stood out like a blister. + </p> + <p> + In the silence of the watching we heard something without mewing like a + she-otter. We both rose to our feet, and, I answer for myself, not + Strickland, felt sick—actually and physically sick. We told each + other, as did the men in Pinafore, that it was the cat. + </p> + <p> + Dumoise arrived, and I never saw a little man so unprofessionally shocked. + He said that it was a heart-rending case of hydrophobia, and that nothing + could be done. At least any palliative measures would only prolong the + agony. The beast was foaming at the mouth. Fleete, as we told Dumoise, had + been bitten by dogs once or twice. Any man who keeps half a dozen terriers + must expect a nip now and again. Dumoise could offer no help. He could + only certify that Fleete was dying of hydrophobia. The beast was then + howling, for it had managed to spit out the shoe-horn. Dumoise said that + he would be ready to certify to the cause of death, and that the end was + certain. He was a good little man, and he offered to remain with us; but + Strickland refused the kindness. He did not wish to poison Dumoise’s New + Year. He would only ask him not to give the real cause of Fleete’s death + to the public. + </p> + <p> + So Dumoise left, deeply agitated; and as soon as the noise of the + cart-wheels had died away, Strickland told me, in a whisper, his + suspicions. They were so wildly improbable that he dared not say them out + aloud; and I, who entertained all Strickland’s beliefs, was so ashamed of + owning to them that I pretended to disbelieve. + </p> + <p> + ‘Even if the Silver Man had bewtiched Fleete for polluting the image of + Hanuman, the punishment could not have fallen so quickly.’ + </p> + <p> + As I was whispering this the cry outside the house rose again, and the + beast fell into a fresh paroxysm of struggling till we were afraid that + the thongs that held it would give way. + </p> + <p> + ‘Watch!’ said Strickland. ‘If this happens six times I shall take the law + into my own hands. I order you to help me.’ + </p> + <p> + He went into his room and came out in a few minutes with the barrels of an + old shot-gun, a piece of fishing-line, some thick cord, and his heavy + wooden bedstead. I reported that the convulsions had followed the cry by + two seconds in each case, and the beast seemed perceptibly weaker. + </p> + <p> + Strickland muttered, ‘But he can’t take away the life! He can’t take away + the life!’ + </p> + <p> + I said, though I knew that I was arguing against myself, ‘It may be a cat. + It must be a cat. If the Silver Man is responsible, why does he dare to + come here?’ + </p> + <p> + Strickland arranged the wood on the hearth, put the gun-barrels into the + glow of the fire, spread the twine on the table and broke a walking stick + in two. There was one yard of fishing line, gut, lapped with wire, such as + is used for mahseer-fishing, and he tied the two ends together in a loop. + </p> + <p> + Then he said, ‘How can we catch him? He must be taken alive and unhurt.’ + </p> + <p> + I said that we must trust in Providence, and go out softly with + polo-sticks into the shrubbery at the front of the house. The man or + animal that made the cry was evidently moving round the house as regularly + as a night-watchman. We could wait in the bushes till he came by and knock + him over. + </p> + <p> + Strickland accepted this suggestion, and we slipped out from a bath-room + window into the front verandah and then across the carriage drive into the + bushes. + </p> + <p> + In the moonlight we could see the leper coming round the corner of the + house. He was perfectly naked, and from time to time he mewed and stopped + to dance with his shadow. It was an unattractive sight, and thinking of + poor Fleete, brought to such degradation by so foul a creature, I put away + all my doubts and resolved to help Strickland from the heated gun-barrels + to the loop of twine-from the loins to the head and back again—-with + all tortures that might be needful. + </p> + <p> + The leper halted in the front porch for a moment and we jumped out on him + with the sticks. He was wonderfully strong, and we were afraid that he + might escape or be fatally injured before we caught him. We had an idea + that lepers were frail creatures, but this proved to be incorrect. + Strickland knocked his legs from under him and I put my foot on his neck. + He mewed hideously, and even through my riding-boots I could feel that his + flesh was not the flesh of a clean man. + </p> + <p> + He struck at us with his hand and feet-stumps. We looped the lash of a + dog-whip round him, under the armpits, and dragged him backwards into the + hall and so into the dining-room where the beast lay. There we tied him + with trunk-straps. He made no attempt to escape, but mewed. + </p> + <p> + When we confronted him with the beast the scene was beyond description. + The beast doubled backwards into a bow as though he had been poisoned with + strychnine, and moaned in the most pitiable fashion. Several other things + happened also, but they cannot be put down here. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I was right,’ said Strickland. ‘Now we will ask him to cure this + case.’ + </p> + <p> + But the leper only mewed. Strickland wrapped a towel round his hand and + took the gun-barrels out of the fire. I put the half of the broken walking + stick through the loop of fishing-line and buckled the leper comfortably + to Strickland’s bedstead. I understood then how men and women and little + children can endure to see a witch burnt alive; for the beast was moaning + on the floor, and though the Silver Man had no face, you could see + horrible feelings passing through the slab that took its place, exactly as + waves of heat play across red-hot iron—gun-barrels for instance. + </p> + <p> + Strickland shaded his eyes with his hands for a moment and we got to work. + This part is not to be printed. + </p> + <p> + The dawn was beginning to break when the leper spoke. His mewings had not + been satisfactory up to that point. The beast had fainted from exhaustion + and the house was very still. We unstrapped the leper and told him to take + away the evil spirit. He crawled to the beast and laid his hand upon the + left breast. That was all. Then he fell face down and whined, drawing in + his breath as he did so. + </p> + <p> + We watched the face of the beast, and saw the soul of Fleete coming back + into the eyes. Then a sweat broke out on the forehead and the eyes-they + were human eyes—-closed. We waited for an hour but Fleete still + slept. We carried him to his room and bade the leper go, giving him the + bedstead, and the sheet on the bedstead to cover his nakedness, the gloves + and the towels with which we had touched him, and the whip that had been + hooked round his body. He put the sheet about him and went out into the + early morning without speaking or mewing. + </p> + <p> + Strickland wiped his face and sat down. A night-gong, far away in the + city, made seven o’clock. + </p> + <p> + ‘Exactly four-and-twenty hours!’ said Strickland. ‘And I’ve done enough to + ensure my dismissal from the service, besides permanent quarters in a + lunatic asylum. Do you believe that we are awake?’ + </p> + <p> + The red-hot gun-barrel had fallen on the floor and was singeing the + carpet. The smell was entirely real. + </p> + <p> + That morning at eleven we two together went to wake up Fleete. We looked + and saw that the black leopard-rosette on his chest had disappeared. He + was very drowsy and tired, but as soon as he saw us, he said, ‘Oh! + Confound you fellows. Happy New Year to you. Never mix your liquors. I’m + nearly dead.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thanks for your kindness, but you’re over time,’ said Strickland. ‘To-day + is the morning of the second. You’ve slept the clock round with a + vengeance.’ + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and little Dumoise put his head in. He had come on foot, + and fancied that we were laving out Fleete. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve brought a nurse,’ said Dumoise. ‘I suppose that she can come in + for... what is necessary.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By all means,’ said Fleete cheerily, sitting up in bed. ‘Bring on your + nurses.’ + </p> + <p> + Dumoise was dumb. Strickland led him out and explained that there must + have been a mistake in the diagnosis. Dumoise remained dumb and left the + house hastily. He considered that his professional reputation had been + injured, and was inclined to make a personal matter of the recovery. + Strickland went out too. When he came back, he said that he had been to + call on the Temple of Hanuman to offer redress for the pollution of the + god, and had been solemnly assured that no white man had ever touched the + idol and that he was an incarnation of all the virtues labouring under a + delusion. + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you think?’ said Strickland. + </p> + <p> + I said, ‘“There are more things . . .”’ + </p> + <p> + But Strickland hates that quotation. He says that I have worn it + threadbare. + </p> + <p> + One other curious thing happened which frightened me as much as anything + in all the night’s work. When Fleete was dressed he came into the + dining-room and sniffed. He had a quaint trick of moving his nose when he + sniffed. ‘Horrid doggy smell, here,’ said he. ‘You should really keep + those terriers of yours in better order. Try sulphur, Strick.’ + </p> + <p> + But Strickland did not answer. He caught hold of the back of a chair, and, + without warning, went into an amazing fit of hysterics. It is terrible to + see a strong man overtaken with hysteria. Then it struck me that we had + fought for Fleete’s soul with the Silver Man in that room, and had + disgraced ourselves as Englishmen for ever, and I laughed and gasped and + gurgled just as shamefully as Strickland, while Fleete thought that we had + both gone mad. We never told him what we had done. + </p> + <p> + Some years later, when Strickland had married and was a church-going + member of society for his wife’s sake, we reviewed the incident + dispassionately, and Strickland suggested that I should put it before the + public. + </p> + <p> + I cannot myself see that this step is likely to clear up the mystery; + because, in the first place, no one will believe a rather unpleasant + story, and, in the second, it is well known to every right-minded man that + the gods of the heathen are stone and brass, and any attempt to deal with + them otherwise is justly condemned. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE RETURN OF IMRAY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The doors were wide, the story saith, + Out of the night came the patient wraith, + He might not speak, and he could not stir + A hair of the Baron’s minniver— + Speechless and strengthless, a shadow thin, + He roved the castle to seek his kin. + And oh, ’twas a piteous thing to see + The dumb ghost follow his enemy! + THE BARON. +</pre> + <p> + Imray achieved the impossible. Without warning, for no conceivable motive, + in his youth, at the threshold of his career he chose to disappear from + the world—-which is to say, the little Indian station where he + lived. + </p> + <p> + Upon a day he was alive, well, happy, and in great evidence among the + billiard-tables at his Club. Upon a morning, he was not, and no manner of + search could make sure where he might be. He had stepped out of his place; + he had not appeared at his office at the proper time, and his dogcart was + not upon the public roads. For these reasons, and because he was + hampering, in a microscopical degree, the administration of the Indian + Empire, that Empire paused for one microscopical moment to make inquiry + into the fate of Imray. Ponds were dragged, wells were plumbed, telegrams + were despatched down the lines of railways and to the nearest seaport + town-twelve hundred miles away; but Imray was not at the end of the + drag-ropes nor the telegraph wires. He was gone, and his place knew him no + more. + </p> + <p> + Then the work of the great Indian Empire swept forward, because it could + not be delayed, and Imray from being a man became a mystery—such a + thing as men talk over at their tables in the Club for a month, and then + forget utterly. His guns, horses, and carts were sold to the highest + bidder. His superior officer wrote an altogether absurd letter to his + mother, saying that Imray had unaccountably disappeared, and his bungalow + stood empty. + </p> + <p> + After three or four months of the scorching hot weather had gone by, my + friend Strickland, of the Police, saw fit to rent the bungalow from the + native landlord. This was before he was engaged to Miss Youghal—an + affair which has been described in another place—and while he was + pursuing his investigations into native life. His own life was + sufficiently peculiar, and men complained of his manners and customs. + There was always food in his house, but there were no regular times for + meals. He ate, standing up and walking about, whatever he might find at + the sideboard, and this is not good for human beings. His domestic + equipment was limited to six rifles, three shot-guns, five saddles, and a + collection of stiff-jointed mahseer-rods, bigger and stronger than the + largest salmon-rods. These occupied one-half of his bungalow, and the + other half was given up to Strickland and his dog Tietjens—an + enormous Rampur slut who devoured daily the rations of two men. She spoke + to Strickland in a language of her own; and whenever, walking abroad, she + saw things calculated to destroy the peace of Her Majesty the + Queen-Empress, she returned to her master and laid information. Strickland + would take steps at once, and the end of his labours was trouble and fine + and imprisonment for other people. The natives believed that Tietjens was + a familiar spirit, and treated her with the great reverence that is born + of hate and fear. One room in the bungalow was set apart for her special + use. She owned a bedstead, a blanket, and a drinking-trough, and if any + one came into Strickland’s room at night her custom was to knock down the + invader and give tongue till some one came with a light. Strickland owed + his life to her, when he was on the Frontier, in search of a local + murderer, who came in the gray dawn to send Strickland much farther than + the Andaman Islands. Tietjens caught the man as he was crawling into + Strickland’s tent with a dagger between his teeth; and after his record of + iniquity was established in the eyes of the law he was hanged. From that + date Tietjens wore a collar of rough silver, and employed a monogram on + her night-blanket; and the blanket was of double woven Kashmir cloth, for + she was a delicate dog. + </p> + <p> + Under no circumstances would she be separated from Strickland; and once, + when he was ill with fever, made great trouble for the doctors, because + she did not know how to help her master and would not allow another + creature to attempt aid. Macarnaght, of the Indian Medical Service, beat + her over her head with a gun-butt before she could understand that she + must give room for those who could give quinine. + </p> + <p> + A short time after Strickland had taken Imray’s bungalow, my business took + me through that Station, and naturally, the Club quarters being full, I + quartered myself upon Strickland. It was a desirable bungalow, + eight-roomed and heavily thatched against any chance of leakage from rain. + Under the pitch of the roof ran a ceiling-cloth which looked just as neat + as a white-washed ceiling. The landlord had repainted it when Strickland + took the bungalow. Unless you knew how Indian bungalows were built you + would never have suspected that above the cloth lay the dark + three-cornered cavern of the roof, where the beams and the underside of + the thatch harboured all manner of rats, bats, ants, and foul things. + </p> + <p> + Tietjens met me in the verandah with a bay like the boom of the bell of + St. Paul’s, putting her paws on my shoulder to show she was glad to see + me. Strickland had contrived to claw together a sort of meal which he + called lunch, and immediately after it was finished went out about his + business. I was left alone with Tietjens and my own affairs. The heat of + the summer had broken up and turned to the warm damp of the rains. There + was no motion in the heated air, but the rain fell like ramrods on the + earth, and flung up a blue mist when it splashed back. The bamboos, and + the custard-apples, the poinsettias, and the mango-trees in the garden + stood still while the warm water lashed through them, and the frogs began + to sing among the aloe hedges. A little before the light failed, and when + the rain was at its worst, I sat in the back verandah and heard the water + roar from the eaves, and scratched myself because I was covered with the + thing called prickly-heat. Tietjens came out with me and put her head in + my lap and was very sorrowful; so I gave her biscuits when tea was ready, + and I took tea in the back verandah on account of the little coolness + found there. The rooms of the house were dark behind me. I could smell + Strickland’s saddlery and the oil on his guns, and I had no desire to sit + among these things. My own servant came to me in the twilight, the muslin + of his clothes clinging tightly to his drenched body, and told me that a + gentleman had called and wished to see some one. Very much against my + will, but only because of the darkness of the rooms, I went into the naked + drawing-room, telling my man to bring the lights. There might or might not + have been a caller waiting—-it seemed to me that I saw a figure by + one of the windows—-but when the lights came there was nothing save + the spikes of the rain without, and the smell of the drinking earth in my + nostrils. I explained to my servant that he was no wiser than he ought to + be, and went back to the verandah to talk to Tietjens. She had gone out + into the wet, and I could hardly coax her back to me; even with biscuits + with sugar tops. Strickland came home, dripping wet, just before dinner, + and the first thing he said was. + </p> + <p> + ‘Has any one called?’ + </p> + <p> + I explained, with apologies, that my servant had summoned me into the + drawing-room on a false alarm; or that some loafer had tried to call on + Strickland, and thinking better of it had fled after giving his name. + Strickiand ordered dinner, without comment, and since it was a real dinner + with a white tablecloth attached, we sat down. + </p> + <p> + At nine o’clock Strickland wanted to go to bed, and I was tired too. + Tietjens, who had been lying underneath the table, rose up, and swung into + the least exposed verandah as soon as her master moved to his own room, + which was next to the stately chamber set apart for Tietjens. If a mere + wife had wished to sleep out of doors in that pelting rain it would not + have mattered; but Tietjens was a dog, and therefore the better animal. I + looked at Strickland, expecting to see him flay her with a whip. He smiled + queerly, as a man would smile after telling some unpleasant domestic + tragedy. ‘She has done this ever since I moved in here,’ said he. ‘Let her + go.’ + </p> + <p> + The dog was Strickland’s dog, so I said nothing, but I felt all that + Strickland felt In being thus made light of. Tietjens encamped outside my + bedroom window, and storm after storm came up, thundered on the thatch, + and died away. The lightning spattered the sky as a thrown egg spatters a + barn-door, but the light was pale blue, not yellow; and, looking through + my split bamboo blinds, I could see the great dog standing, not sleeping, + in the verandah, the hackles alift on her back and her feet anchored as + tensely as the drawn wire-rope of a suspension bridge. In the very short + pauses of the thunder I tried to sleep, but it seemed that some one wanted + me very urgently. He, whoever he was, was trying to call me by name, but + his voice was no more than a husky whisper. The thunder ceased, and + Tietjens went into the garden and howled at the low moon. Somebody tried + to open my door, walked about and about through the house and stood + breathing heavily in the verandahs, and just when I was falling asleep I + fancied that I heard a wild hammering and clamouring above my head or on + the door. + </p> + <p> + I ran into Strickland’s room and asked him whether he was ill, and had + been calling for me. He was lying on his bed half dressed, a pipe in his + mouth. ‘I thought you’d come,’ he said. ‘Have I been walking round the + house recently?’ + </p> + <p> + I explained that he had been tramping in the dining-room and the + smoking-room and two or three other places, and he laughed and told me to + go back to bed. I went back to bed and slept till the morning, but through + all my mixed dreams I was sure I was doing some one an injustice in not + attending to his wants. What those wants were I could not tell; but a + fluttering, whispering, bolt-fumbling, lurking, loitering Someone was + reproaching me for my slackness, and, half awake, I heard the howling of + Tietjens in the garden and the threshing of the rain. + </p> + <p> + I lived in that house for two days. Strickland went to his office daily, + leaving me alone for eight or ten hours with Tietjens for my only + companion. As long as the full light lasted I was comfortable, and so was + Tietjens; but in the twilight she and I moved into the back verandah and + cuddled each other for company. We were alone in the house, but none the + less it was much too fully occupied by a tenant with whom I did not wish + to interfere. I never saw him, but I could see the curtains between the + rooms quivering where he had just passed through; I could hear the chairs + creaking as the bamboos sprung under a weight that had just quitted them; + and I could feel when I went to get a book from the dining-room that + somebody was waiting in the shadows of the front verandah till I should + have gone away. Tietjens made the twilight more interesting by glaring + into the darkened rooms with every hair erect, and following the motions + of something that I could not see. She never entered the rooms, but her + eyes moved interestedly: that was quite sufficient. Only when my servant + came to trim the lamps and make all light and habitable she would come in + with me and spend her time sitting on her haunches, watching an invisible + extra man as he moved about behind my shoulder. Dogs are cheerful + companions. + </p> + <p> + I explained to Strickland, gently as might be, that I would go over to the + Club and find for myself quarters there. I admired his hospitality, was + pleased with his guns and rods, but I did not much care for his house and + its atmosphere. He heard me out to the end, and then smiled very wearily, + but without contempt, for he is a man who understands things. ‘Stay on,’ + he said, ‘and see what this thing means. All you have talked about I have + known since I took the bungalow. Stay on and wait. Tietjens has left me. + Are you going too?’ + </p> + <p> + I had seen him through one little affair, connected with a heathen idol, + that had brought me to the doors of a lunatic asylum, and I had no desire + to help him through further experiences. He was a man to whom + unpleasantnesses arrived as do dinners to ordinary people. + </p> + <p> + Therefore I explained more clearly than ever that I liked him immensely, + and would be happy to see him in the daytime; but that I did not care to + sleep under his roof. This was after dinner, when Tietjens had gone out to + lie in the verandah. + </p> + <p> + ‘’Pon my soul, I don’t wonder,’ said Strickland, with his eyes on the + ceiling-cloth. ‘Look at that!’ + </p> + <p> + The tails of two brown snakes were hanging between the cloth and the + cornice of the wall. They threw long shadows in the lamplight. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you are afraid of snakes of course—’ said Strickland. + </p> + <p> + I hate and fear snakes, because if you look into the eyes of any snake you + will see that it knows all and more of the mystery of man’s fall, and that + it feels all the contempt that the Devil felt when Adam was evicted from + Eden. Besides which its bite is generally fatal, and it twists up trouser + legs. + </p> + <p> + ‘You ought to get your thatch overhauled,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Give me a mahseer-rod, and we’ll poke ‘em down.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They’ll hide among the roof-beams,’ said Strickland. ‘I can’t stand + snakes overhead. I’m going up into the roof. If I shake ‘em down, stand by + with a cleaning-rod and break their backs.’ + </p> + <p> + I was not anxious to assist Strickland in his work, but I took the + cleaning-rod and waited in the dining-room, while Strickland brought a + gardener’s ladder from the verandah, and set it against the side of the + room. + </p> + <p> + The snake-tails drew themselves up and disappeared. We could hear the dry + rushing scuttle of long bodies running over the baggy ceiling-cloth. + Strickland took a lamp with him, while I tried to make clear to him the + danger of hunting roof-snakes between a ceiling-cloth and a thatch, apart + from the deterioration of property caused by ripping out ceiling-cloths. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense!’ said Strickland. ‘They’re sure to hide near the walls by the + cloth. The bricks are too cold for ‘em, and the heat of the room is just + what they like.’ He put his hand to the corner of the stuff and ripped it + from the cornice. It gave with a great sound of tearing, and Strickland + put his head through the opening into the dark of the angle of the + roof-beams. I set my teeth and lifted the rod, for I had not the least + knowledge of what might descend. + </p> + <p> + ‘H’m!’ said Strickland, and his voice rolled and rumbled in the roof. + ‘There’s room for another set of rooms up here, and, by Jove, some one is + occupying ‘em!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Snakes?’ I said from below. + </p> + <p> + ‘No. It’s a buffalo. Hand me up the two last joints of a mahseer-rod, and + I’ll prod it. It’s lying on the main roof-beam.’ + </p> + <p> + I handed up the rod. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a nest for owls and serpents! No wonder the snakes live here,’ said + Strickland, climbing farther into the roof. I could see his elbow + thrusting with the rod. ‘Come out of that, whoever you are! Heads below + there! It’s falling.’ + </p> + <p> + I saw the ceiling-cloth nearly in the centre of the room bag with a shape + that was pressing it downwards and downwards towards the lighted lamp on + the table. I snatched the lamp out of danger and stood back. Then the + cloth ripped out from the walls, tore, split, swayed, and shot down upon + the table something that I dared not look at, till Strickland had slid + down the ladder and was standing by my side. + </p> + <p> + He did not say much, being a man of few words; but he picked up the loose + end of the tablecloth and threw it over the remnants on the table. + </p> + <p> + ‘It strikes me,’ said he, putting down the lamp, ‘our friend Imray has + come back. Oh! you would, would you?’ + </p> + <p> + There was a movement under the cloth, and a little snake wriggled out, to + be back-broken by the butt of the mahseer-rod. I was sufficiently sick to + make no remarks worth recording. + </p> + <p> + Strickland meditated, and helped himself to drinks. The arrangement under + the cloth made no more signs of life. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it Imray?’ I said. + </p> + <p> + Strickland turned back the cloth for a moment, and looked. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is Imray,’ he said; ‘and his throat is cut from ear to ear.’ + </p> + <p> + Then we spoke, both together and to ourselves: ‘That’s why he whispered + about the house.’ + </p> + <p> + Tietjens, in the garden, began to bay furiously. A little later her great + nose heaved open the dining-room door. + </p> + <p> + She sniffed and was still. The tattered ceiling-cloth hung down almost to + the level of the table, and there was hardly room to move away from the + discovery. + </p> + <p> + Tietjens came in and sat down; her teeth bared under her lip and her + forepaws planted. She looked at Strickland. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a bad business, old lady,’ said he. ‘Men don’t climb up into the + roofs of their bungalows to die, and they don’t fasten up the ceiling + cloth behind ‘em. Let’s think it out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s think it out somewhere else,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Excellent idea! Turn the lamps out. We’ll get into my room.’ + </p> + <p> + I did not turn the lamps out. I went into Strickland’s room first, and + allowed him to make the darkness. Then he followed me, and we lit tobacco + and thought. Strickland thought. I smoked furiously, because I was afraid. + </p> + <p> + ‘Imray is back,’ said Strickland. ‘The question is—-who killed + Imray? Don’t talk, I’ve a notion of my own. When I took this bungalow I + took over most of Imray’s servants. Imray was guileless and inoffensive, + wasn’t he?’ + </p> + <p> + I agreed; though the heap under the cloth had looked neither one thing nor + the other. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I call in all the servants they will stand fast in a crowd and lie + like Aryans. What do you suggest?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Call ‘em in one by one,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘They’ll run away and give the news to all their fellows,’ said + Strickland. ‘We must segregate ‘em. Do you suppose your servant knows + anything about it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He may, for aught I know; but I don’t think it’s likely. He has only been + here two or three days,’ I answered. ‘What’s your notion?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t quite tell. How the dickens did the man get the wrong side of the + ceiling-cloth?’ + </p> + <p> + There was a heavy coughing outside Strickland’s bedroom door. This showed + that Bahadur Khan, his body-servant, had waked from sleep and wished to + put Strickland to bed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come in,’ said Strickland. ‘It’s a very warm night, isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + Bahadur Khan, a great, green-turbaned, six-foot Mahomedan, said that it + was a very warm night; but that there was more rain pending, which, by his + Honour’s favour, would bring relief to the country. + </p> + <p> + ‘It will be so, if God pleases,’ said Strickland, tugging off his boots. + ‘It is in my mind, Bahadur Khan, that I have worked thee remorselessly for + many days—-ever since that time when thou first earnest into my + service. What time was that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Has the Heaven-born forgotten? It was when Imray Sahib went secretly to + Europe without warning given; and I-even I-came into the honoured service + of the protector of the poor.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And Imray Sahib went to Europe?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is so said among those who were his servants.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And thou wilt take service with him when he returns?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Assuredly, Sahib. He was a good master, and cherished his dependants.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is true. I am very tired, but I go buck-shooting to-morrow. Give me + the little sharp rifle that I use for black-buck; it is in the case + yonder.’ + </p> + <p> + The man stooped over the case; handed barrels, stock, and fore-end to + Strickland, who fitted all together, yawning dolefully. Then he reached + down to the gun-case, took a solid-drawn cartridge, and slipped it into + the breech of the ‘360 Express. + </p> + <p> + ‘And Imray Sahib has gone to Europe secretly! That is very strange, + Bahadur Khan, is it not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do I know of the ways of the white man. Heaven-born?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very little, truly. But thou shalt know more anon. It has reached me that + Imray Sahib has returned from his so long journeyings, and that even now + he lies in the next room, waiting his servant.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sahib!’ + </p> + <p> + The lamplight slid along the barrels of the rifle as they levelled + themselves at Bahadur Khan’s broad breast. + </p> + <p> + ‘Go and look!’ said Strickland. ‘Take a lamp. Thy master is tired, and he + waits thee. Go!’ + </p> + <p> + The man picked up a lamp, and went into the dining-room, Strickland + following, and almost pushing him with the muzzle of the rifle. He looked + for a moment at the black depths behind the ceiling-cloth; at the writhing + snake under foot; and last, a gray glaze settling on his face, at the + thing under the tablecloth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hast thou seen?’ said Strickland after a pause. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have seen. I am clay in the white man’s hands. What does the Presence + do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hang thee within the month. What else?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For killing him? Nay, Sahib, consider. Walking among us, his servants, he + cast his eyes upon my child, who was four years old. Him he bewitched, and + in ten days he died of the fever—my child!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What said Imray Sahib?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He said he was a handsome child, and patted him on the head; wherefore my + child died. Wherefore I killed Imray Sahib in the twilight, when he had + come back from office, and was sleeping. Wherefore I dragged him up into + the roof-beams and made all fast behind him. The Heaven-born knows all + things. I am the servant of the Heaven-born.’ + </p> + <p> + Strickland looked at me above the rifle, and said, in the vernacular, + ‘Thou art witness to this saying? He has killed.’ + </p> + <p> + Bahadur Khan stood ashen gray in the light of the one lamp. The need for + justification came upon him very swiftly. ‘I am trapped,’ he said, ‘but + the offence was that man’s. He cast an evil eye upon my child, and I + killed and hid him. Only such as are served by devils,’ he glared at + Tietjens, couched stolidly before him, ‘only such could know what I did.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was clever. But thou shouldst have lashed him to the beam with a rope. + Now, thou thyself wilt hang by a rope. Orderly!’ + </p> + <p> + A drowsy policeman answered Strickland’s call. He was followed by another, + and Tietjens sat wondrous still. + </p> + <p> + ‘Take him to the police-station,’ said Strickland. ‘There is a case + toward.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do I hang, then?’ said Bahadur Khan, making no attempt to escape, and + keeping his eyes on the ground. + </p> + <p> + ‘If the sun shines or the water runs—yes!’ said Strickland. + </p> + <p> + Bahadur Khan stepped back one long pace, quivered, and stood still. The + two policemen waited further orders. + </p> + <p> + ‘Go!’ said Strickland. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay; but I go very swiftly,’ said Bahadur Khan. ‘Look! I am even now a + dead man.’ + </p> + <p> + He lifted his foot, and to the little toe there clung the head of the + half-killed snake, firm fixed in the agony of death. + </p> + <p> + ‘I come of land-holding stock,’ said Bahadur Khan, rocking where he stood. + ‘It were a disgrace to me to go to the public scaffold: therefore I take + this way. Be it remembered that the Sahib’s shirts are correctly + enumerated, and that there is an extra piece of soap in his washbasin. My + child was bewitched, and I slew the wizard. Why should you seek to slay me + with the rope? My honour is saved, and—and—I die.’ + </p> + <p> + At the end of an hour he died, as they die who are bitten by the little + brown karait, and the policemen bore him and the thing under the + tablecloth to their appointed places. All were needed to make clear the + disappearance of Imray. + </p> + <p> + ‘This,’ said Strickland, very calmly, as he climbed into bed, ‘is called + the nineteenth century. Did you hear what that man said?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I heard,’ I answered. ‘Imray made a mistake.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Simply and solely through not knowing the nature of the Oriental, and the + coincidence of a little seasonal fever. Bahadur Khan had been with him for + four years.’ + </p> + <p> + I shuddered. My own servant had been with me for exactly that length of + time. When I went over to my own room I found my man waiting, impassive as + the copper head on a penny, to pull off my boots. + </p> + <p> + ‘What has befallen Bahadur Khan?’ said I. + </p> + <p> + ‘He was bitten by a snake and died. The rest the Sahib knows,’ was the + answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘And how much of this matter hast thou known?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As much as might be gathered from One coming in in the twilight to seek + satisfaction. Gently, Sahib. Let me pull off those boots.’ + </p> + <p> + I had just settled to the sleep of exhaustion when I heard Strickland + shouting from his side of the house— + </p> + <p> + ‘Tietjens has come back to her place!’ + </p> + <p> + And so she had. The great deerhound was couched statelily on her own + bedstead on her own blanket, while, in the next room, the idle, empty, + ceiling-cloth waggled as it trailed on the table. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NAMGAY DOOLA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin, + The dew on his wet robe hung heavy and chill; + Ere the steamer that brought him had passed out of hearin’, + He was Alderman Mike inthrojuicin’ a bill! + AMERICAN SONG. +</pre> + <p> + Once upon a time there was a King who lived on the road to Thibet, very + many miles in the Himalayas. His Kingdom was eleven thousand feet above + the sea and exactly four miles square; but most of the miles stood on end + owing to the nature of the country. His revenues were rather less than + four hundred pounds yearly, and they were expended in the maintenance of + one elephant and a standing army of five men. He was tributary to the + Indian Government, who allowed him certain sums for keeping a section of + the Himalaya-Thibet road in repair. He further increased his revenues by + selling timber to the railway-companies; for he would cut the great deodar + trees in his one forest, and they fell thundering into the Sutlej river + and were swept down to the plains three hundred miles away and became + railway-ties. Now and again this King, whose name does not matter, would + mount a ringstraked horse and ride scores of miles to Simla-town to confer + with the Lieutenant-Governor on matters of state, or to assure the Viceroy + that his sword was at the service of the Queen-Empress. Then the Viceroy + would cause a ruffle of drums to be sounded, and the ringstraked horse and + the cavalry of the State—-two men in tatters—and the herald + who bore the silver stick before the King would trot back to their own + place, which lay between the tail of a heaven-climbing glacier and a dark + birch-forest. + </p> + <p> + Now, from such a King, always remembering that he possessed one veritable + elephant, and could count his descent for twelve hundred years, I + expected, when it was my fate to wander through his dominions, no more + than mere license to live. + </p> + <p> + The night had closed in rain, and rolling clouds blotted out the lights of + the villages in the valley. Forty miles away, untouched by cloud or storm, + the white shoulder of Donga Pa—the Mountain of the Council of the + Gods—upheld the Evening Star. The monkeys sang sorrowfully to each + other as they hunted for dry roosts in the fern-wreathed trees, and the + last puff of the day-wind brought from the unseen villages the scent of + damp wood-smoke, hot cakes, dripping undergrowth, and rotting pine-cones. + That is the true smell of the Himalayas, and if once it creeps into the + blood of a man, that man will at the last, forgetting all else, return to + the hills to die. The clouds closed and the smell went away, and there + remained nothing in all the world except chilling white mist and the boom + of the Sutlej river racing through the valley below. A fat-tailed sheep, + who did not want to die, bleated piteously at my tent door. He was + scuffling with the Prime Minister and the Director-General of Public + Education, and he was a royal gift to me and my camp servants. I expressed + my thanks suitably, and asked if I might have audience of the King. The + Prime Minister readjusted his turban, which had fallen off in the + struggle, and assured me that the King would be very pleased to see me. + Therefore I despatched two bottles as a foretaste, and when the sheep had + entered upon another incarnation went to the King’s Palace through the + wet. He had sent his army to escort me, but the army stayed to talk with + my cook. Soldiers are very much alike all the world over. + </p> + <p> + The Palace was a four-roomed and whitewashed mud and timber house, the + finest in all the hills for a day’s journey. The King was dressed in a + purple velvet jacket, white muslin trousers, and a saffron-yellow turban + of price. He gave me audience in a little carpeted room opening off the + palace courtyard which was occupied by the Elephant of State. The great + beast was sheeted and anchored from trunk to tail, and the curve of his + back stood out grandly against the mist. + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister and the Director-General of Public Education were + present to introduce me, but all the court had been dismissed, lest the + two bottles aforesaid should corrupt their morals. The King cast a wreath + of heavy-scented flowers round my neck as I bowed, and inquired how my + honoured presence had the felicity to be. I said that through seeing his + auspicious countenance the mists of the night had turned into sunshine, + and that by reason of his beneficent sheep his good deeds would be + remembered by the Gods. He said that since I had set my magnificent foot + in his Kingdom the crops would probably yield seventy per cent more than + the average. I said that the fame of the King had reached to the four + corners of the earth, and that the nations gnashed their teeth when they + heard daily of the glories of his realm and the wisdom of his moon-like + Prime Minister and lotus-like Director-General of Public Education. + </p> + <p> + Then we sat down on clean white cushions, and I was at the King’s right + hand. Three minutes later he was telling me that the state of the maize + crop was something disgraceful, and that the railway-companies would not + pay him enough for his timber. The talk shifted to and fro with the + bottles, and we discussed very many stately things, and the King became + confidential on the subject of Government generally. Most of all he dwelt + on the shortcomings of one of his subjects, who, from all I could gather, + had been paralyzing the executive. + </p> + <p> + ‘In the old days,’ said the King, ‘I could have ordered the Elephant + yonder to trample him to death. Now I must e’en send him seventy miles + across the hills to be tried, and his keep would be upon the State. The + Elephant eats everything.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What be the man’s crimes, Rajah Sahib?’ said I. + </p> + <p> + ‘Firstly, he is an outlander and no man of mine own people. Secondly, + since of my favour I gave him land upon his first coming, he refuses to + pay revenue. Am I not the lord of the earth, above and below, entitled by + right and custom to one-eighth of the crop? Yet this devil, establishing + himself, refuses to pay a single tax; and he brings a poisonous spawn of + babes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Cast him into jail,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sahib,’ the King answered, shifting a little on the cushions, ‘once and + only once in these forty years sickness came upon me so that I was not + able to go abroad. In that hour I made a vow to my God that I would never + again cut man or woman from the light of the sun and the air of God; for I + perceived the nature of the punishment. How can I break my vow? Were it + only the lopping of a hand or a foot I should not delay. But even that is + impossible now that the English have rule. One or another of my people’—he + looked obliquely at the Director-General of Public Education—‘would + at once write a letter to the Viceroy, and perhaps I should be deprived of + my ruffle of drums.’ + </p> + <p> + He unscrewed the mouthpiece of his silver water-pipe, fitted a plain amber + mouthpiece, and passed his pipe to me. ‘Not content with refusing + revenue,’ he continued, ‘this outlander refuses also the begar’ (this was + the corvee or forced labour on the roads) ‘and stirs my people up to the + like treason. Yet he is, when he wills, an expert log-snatcher. There is + none better or bolder among my people to clear a block of the river when + the logs stick fast.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But he worships strange Gods,’ said the Prime Minister deferentially. + </p> + <p> + ‘For that I have no concern,’ said the King, who was as tolerant as Akbar + in matters of belief. ‘To each man his own God and the fire or Mother + Earth for us all at last. It is the rebellion that offends me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The King has an army,’ I suggested. ‘Has not the King burned the man’s + house and left him naked to the night dews?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay, a hut is a hut, and it holds the life of a man. But once, I sent my + army against him when his excuses became wearisome: of their heads he + brake three across the top with a stick. The other two men ran away. Also + the guns would not shoot.’ + </p> + <p> + I had seen the equipment of the infantry. One-third of it was an old + muzzle-loading fowling-piece, with a ragged rust-hole where the nipples + should have been, one-third a wire-bound matchlock with a worm-eaten + stock, and one-third a four-bore flint duck-gun without a flint. + </p> + <p> + ‘But it is to be remembered,’ said the King, reaching out for the bottle, + ‘that he is a very expert log-snatcher and a man of a merry face. What + shall I do to him, Sahib?’ + </p> + <p> + This was interesting. The timid hill-folk would as soon have refused taxes + to their king as revenues to their Gods. + </p> + <p> + ‘If it be the King’s permission,’ I said, ‘I will not strike my tents till + the third day and I will see this man. The mercy of the King is God-like, + and rebellion is like unto the sin of witchcraft. Moreover, both the + bottles and another be empty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have my leave to go,’ said the King. + </p> + <p> + Next morning a crier went through the state proclaiming that there was a + log-jam on the river and that it behoved all loyal subjects to remove it. + The people poured down from their villages to the moist warm valley of + poppy-fields; and the King and I went with them. Hundreds of dressed + deodar-logs had caught on a snag of rock, and the river was bringing down + more logs every minute to complete the blockade. The water snarled and + wrenched and worried at the timber, and the population of the state began + prodding the nearest logs with a pole in the hope of starting a general + movement. Then there went up a shout of ‘Namgay Doola! Namgay Doola!’ and + a large red-haired villager hurried up, stripping off his clothes as he + ran. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is he. That is the rebel,’ said the King. ‘Now will the dam be + cleared.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But why has he red hair?’ I asked, since red hair among hill-folks is as + common as blue or green. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is an outlander,’ said the King. ‘Well done! Oh well done!’ + </p> + <p> + Namgay Doola had scrambled out on the jam and was clawing out the butt of + a log with a rude sort of boat-hook. It slid forward slowly as an + alligator moves, three or four others followed it, and the green water + spouted through the gaps they had made. Then the villagers howled and + shouted and scrambled across the logs, pulling and pushing the obstinate + timber, and the red head of Namgay Doola was chief among them all. The + logs swayed and chafed and groaned as fresh consignments from upstream + battered the now weakening dam. All gave way at last in a smother of foam, + racing logs, bobbing black heads and confusion indescribable. The river + tossed everything before it. I saw the red head go down with the last + remnants of the jam and disappear between the great grinding tree-trunks. + It rose close to the bank and blowing like a grampus. Namgay Doola wrung + the water out of his eyes and made obeisance to the King. I had time to + observe him closely. The virulent redness of his shock head and beard was + most startling; and in the thicket of hair wrinkled above high cheek bones + shone two very merry blue eyes. He was indeed an outlander, but yet a + Thibetan in language, habit, and attire. He spoke the Lepcha dialect with + an indescribable softening of the gutturals. It was not so much a lisp as + an accent. + </p> + <p> + ‘Whence comest thou?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘From Thibet.’ He pointed across the hills and grinned. That grin went + straight to my heart. Mechanically I held out my hand and Namgay Doola + shook it. No pure Thibetan would have understood the meaning of the + gesture. He went away to look for his clothes, and as he climbed back to + his village, I heard a joyous yell that seemed unaccountably familiar. It + was the whooping of Namgay Doola. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see now,’ said the King, ‘why I would not kill him. He is a bold man + among my logs, but,’ and he shook his head like a schoolmaster, ‘I know + that before long there will be complaints of him in the court. Let us + return to the Palace and do justice.’ It was that King’s custom to judge + his subjects every day between eleven and three o’clock. I saw him decide + equitably in weighty matters of trespass, slander, and a little + wife-stealing. Then his brow clouded and he summoned me. + </p> + <p> + ‘Again it is Namgay Doola,’ he said despairingly. ‘Not content with + refusing revenue on his own part, he has bound half his village by an oath + to the like treason. Never before has such a thing befallen me! Nor are my + taxes heavy.’ + </p> + <p> + A rabbit-faced villager, with a blush-rose stuck behind his ear, advanced + trembling. He had been in the conspiracy, but had told everything and + hoped for the King’s favour. + </p> + <p> + ‘O King,’ said I, ‘if it be the King’s will let this matter stand over + till the morning. Only the Gods can do right swiftly, and it may be that + yonder villager has lied.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay, for I know the nature of Namgay Doola; but since a guest asks let + the matter remain. Wilt thou speak harshly to this red-headed outlander? + He may listen to thee.’ + </p> + <p> + I made an attempt that very evening, but for the life of me I could not + keep my countenance. Namgay Doola grinned persuasively, and began to tell + me about a big brown bear in a poppy-field by the river. Would I care to + shoot it? I spoke austerely on the sin of conspiracy, and the certainty of + punishment. Namgay Doola’s face clouded for a moment. Shortly afterwards + he withdrew from my tent, and I heard him singing to himself softly among + the pines. The words were unintelligible to me, but the tune, like his + liquid insinuating speech, seemed the ghost of something strangely + familiar. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dir hane mard-i-yemen dir To weeree ala gee.’ + </p> + <p> + sang Namgay Doola again and again, and I racked my brain for that lost + tune. It was not till after dinner that I discovered some one had cut a + square foot of velvet from the centre of my best camera-cloth. This made + me so angry that I wandered down the valley in the hope of meeting the big + brown bear. I could hear him grunting like a discontented pig in the + poppy-field, and I waited shoulder deep in the dew-dripping Indian corn to + catch him after his meal. The moon was at full and drew out the rich scent + of the tasselled crop. Then I heard the anguished bellow of a Himalayan + cow, one of the little black crummies no bigger than Newfoundland dogs. + Two shadows that looked like a bear and her cub hurried past me. I was in + act to fire when I saw that they had each a brilliant red head. The lesser + animal was trailing some rope behind it that left a dark track on the + path. They passed within six feet of me, and the shadow of the moonlight + lay velvet-black on their faces. Velvet-black was exactly the word, for by + all the powers of moonlight they were masked in the velvet of my + camera-cloth! I marvelled and went to bed. + </p> + <p> + Next morning the Kingdom was in uproar. Namgay Doola, men said, had gone + forth in the night and with a sharp knife had cut off the tail of a cow + belonging to the rabbit-faced villager who had betrayed him. It was + sacrilege unspeakable against the Holy Cow. The State desired his blood, + but he had retreated into his hut, barricaded the doors and windows with + big stones, and defied the world. + </p> + <p> + The King and I and the populace approached the hut cautiously. There was + no hope of capturing the man without loss of life, for from a hole in the + wall projected the muzzle of an extremely well-cared-for gun—the + only gun in the State that could shoot. Namgay Doola had narrowly missed a + villager just before we came up. The Standing Army stood. It could do no + more, for when it advanced pieces of sharp shale flew from the windows. To + these were added from time to time showers of scalding water. We saw red + heads bobbing up and down in the hut. The family of Namgay Doola were + aiding their sire, and blood-curdling yells of defiance were the only + answers to our prayers. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never,’ said the King, puffing, ‘has such a thing befallen my State. Next + year I will certainly buy a little cannon.’ He looked at me imploringly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is there any priest in the Kingdom to whom he will listen?’ said I, for a + light was beginning to break upon me. + </p> + <p> + ‘He worships his own God,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘We can starve him + out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let the white man approach,’ said Namgay Doola from within. ‘All others I + will kill. Send me the white man.’ + </p> + <p> + The door was thrown open and I entered the smoky interior of a Thibetan + hut crammed with children. And every child had flaming red hair. A raw + cow’s-tail lay on the floor, and by its side two pieces of black velvet—my + black velvet—rudely hacked into the semblance of masks. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what is this shame, Namgay Doola?’ said I. + </p> + <p> + He grinned more winningly than ever. ‘There is no shame,’ said he. ‘I did + but cut off the tail of that man’s cow. He betrayed me. I was minded to + shoot him, Sahib. But not to death. Indeed not to death. Only in the + legs.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And why at all, since it is the custom to pay revenue to the King? Why at + all?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By the God of my father I cannot tell,’ said Namgay Doola. + </p> + <p> + ‘And who was thy father?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The same that had this gun.’ He showed me his weapon—a Tower musket + bearing date 1832 and the stamp of the Honourable East India Company. + </p> + <p> + ‘And thy father’s name?’ said I. + </p> + <p> + ‘Timlay Doola,’ said he. ‘At the first, I being then a little child, it is + in my mind that he wore a red coat.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of that I have no doubt. But repeat the name of thy father thrice or four + times.’ + </p> + <p> + He obeyed, and I understood whence the puzzling accent in his speech came. + ‘Thimla Dhula,’ said he excitedly. ‘To this hour I worship his God.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May I see that God?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In a little while—at twilight time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rememberest thou aught of thy father’s speech?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is long ago. But there is one word which he said often. Thus “Shun.” + Then I and my brethren stood upon our feet, our hands to our sides. Thus.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Even so. And what was thy mother?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A woman of the hills. We be Lepchas of Darjeeling, but me they call an + outlander because my hair is as thou seest.’ + </p> + <p> + The Thibetan woman, his wife, touched him on the arm gently. The long + parley outside the fort had lasted far into the day. It was now close upon + twilight—the hour of the Angelus. Very solemnly, the red-headed + brats rose from the floor and formed a semicircle. Namgay Doola laid his + gun against the wall, lighted a little oil lamp, and set it before a + recess in the wall. Pulling aside a curtain of dirty cloth, he revealed a + worn brass crucifix leaning against the helmet-badge of a long forgotten + East India regiment. ‘Thus did my father,’ he said, crossing himself + clumsily. The wife and children followed suit. Then all together they + struck up the wailing chant that I heard on the hillside— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dir bane mard-i-yemen dir + To weeree ala gee. +</pre> + <p> + I was puzzled no longer. Again and again they crooned, as if their hearts + would break, their version of the chorus of the Wearing of the Green— + </p> + <p> + They’re hanging men and women too, For the wearing of the green. + </p> + <p> + A diabolical inspiration came to me. One of the brats, a boy about eight + years old, was watching me as he sang. I pulled out a rupee, held the coin + between finger and thumb and looked—only looked—at the gun + against the wall. A grin of brilliant and perfect comprehension overspread + the face of the child. Never for an instant stopping the song, he held out + his hand for the money, and then slid the gun to my hand. I might have + shot Namgay Doola as he chanted. But I was satisfied. The blood-instinct + of the race held true. Namgay Doola drew the curtain across the recess. + Angelus was over. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thus my father sang. There was much more, but I have forgotten, and I do + not know the purport of these words, but it may be that the God will + understand. I am not of this people, and I will not pay revenue.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And why?’ + </p> + <p> + Again that soul-compelling grin. ‘What occupation would be to me between + crop and crop? It is better than scaring bears. But these people do not + understand.’ He picked the masks from the floor, and looked in my face as + simply as a child. + </p> + <p> + ‘By what road didst thou attain knowledge to make these devilries?’ I + said, pointing. + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot tell. I am but a Lepcha of Darjeeling, and yet the stuff—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Which thou hast stolen.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay, surely. Did I steal? I desired it so. The stuff—the stuff—what + else should I have done with the stuff?’ He twisted the velvet between his + fingers. + </p> + <p> + ‘But the sin of maiming the cow—consider that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is true; but oh, Sahib, that man betrayed me and I had no thought—but + the heifer’s tail waved in the moonlight and I had my knife. What else + should I have done? The tail came off ere I was aware. Sahib, thou knowest + more than I.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is true,’ said I. ‘Stay within the door. I go to speak to the King.’ + </p> + <p> + The population of the State were ranged on the hillsides. I went forth and + spoke to the King. + </p> + <p> + ‘O King,’ said I. ‘Touching this man there be two courses open to thy + wisdom. Thou canst either hang him from a tree, he and his brood, till + there remains no hair that is red within the land.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay’ said the King. ‘Why should I hurt the little children?’ + </p> + <p> + They had poured out of the hut door and were making plump obeisance to + everybody. Namgay Doola waited with his gun across his arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘Or thou canst, discarding the impiety of the cow-maiming, raise him to + honour in thy Army. He comes of a race that will not pay revenue. A red + flame is in his blood which comes out at the top of his head in that + glowing hair. Make him chief of the Army. Give him honour as may befall, + and full allowance of work, but look to it, O King, that neither he nor + his hold a foot of earth from thee henceforward. Feed him with words and + favour, and also liquor from certain bottles that thou knowest of, and he + will be a bulwark of defence. But deny him even a tuft of grass for his + own. This is the nature that God has given him. Moreover he has brethren—’ + </p> + <p> + The State groaned unanimously. + </p> + <p> + ‘But if his brethren come, they will surely fight with each other till + they die; or else the one will always give information concerning the + other. Shall he be of thy Army, O King? Choose.’ + </p> + <p> + The King bowed his head, and I said, ‘Come forth, Namgay Doola, and + command the King’s Army. Thy name shall no more be Namgay in the mouths of + men, but Patsay Doola, for as thou hast said, I know.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Namgay Doola, new christened Patsay Doola, son of Timlay Doola, which + is Tim Doolan gone very wrong indeed, clasped the King’s feet, cuffed the + Standing Army, and hurried in an agony of contrition from temple to + temple, making offerings for the sin of cattle-maiming. + </p> + <p> + And the King was so pleased with my perspicacity, that he offered to sell + me a village for twenty pounds sterling. But I buy no villages in the + Himalayas so long as one red head flares between the tail of the + heaven-climbing glacier and the dark birch-forest. + </p> + <p> + I know that breed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BURTRAN AND BIMI + </h2> + <p> + The orang-outang in the big iron cage lashed to the sheep-pen began the + discussion. The night was stiflingly hot, and as I and Hans Breitmann, the + big-beamed German, passed him, dragging our bedding to the fore-peak of + the steamer, he roused himself and chattered obscenely. He had been caught + somewhere in the Malayan Archipelago, and was going to England to be + exhibited at a shilling a head. For four days he had struggled, yelled, + and wrenched at the heavy bars of his prison without ceasing, and had + nearly slain a lascar, incautious enough to come within reach of the great + hairy paw. + </p> + <p> + ‘It would be well for you, mine friend, if you was a liddle seasick,’ said + Hans Breitmann, pausing by the cage.’ You haf too much Ego in your + Cosmos.’ + </p> + <p> + The orang-outang’s arm slid out negligently from between the bars. No one + would have believed that it would make a sudden snakelike rush at the + German’s breast. The thin silk of the sleeping-suit tore out; Hans stepped + back unconcernedly to pluck a banana from a bunch hanging close to one of + the boats. + </p> + <p> + ‘Too much Ego,’ said he, peeling the fruit and offering it to the caged + devil, who was rending the silk to tatters. + </p> + <p> + Then we laid out our bedding in the bows among the sleeping Lascars, to + catch any breeze that the pace of the ship might give us. The sea was like + smoky oil, except where it turned to fire under our forefoot and whirled + back into the dark in smears of dull flame. There was a thunderstorm some + miles away; we could see the glimmer of the lightning. The ship’s cow, + distressed by the heat and the smell of the ape-beast in the cage, lowed + unhappily from time to time in exactly the same key as that in which the + look-out man answered the hourly call from the bridge. The trampling tune + of the engines was very distinct, and the jarring of the ash-lift, as it + was tipped into the sea, hurt the procession of hushed noise. Hans lay + down by my side and lighted a good-night cigar. This was naturally the + beginning of conversation. He owned a voice as soothing as the wash of the + sea, and stores of experiences as vast as the sea itself; for his business + in life was to wander up and down the world, collecting orchids and wild + beasts and ethnological specimens for German and American dealers. I + watched the glowing end of his cigar wax and wane in the gloom, as the + sentences rose and fell, till I was nearly asleep. The orang-outang, + troubled by some dream of the forests of his freedom, began to yell like a + soul in purgatory, and to pluck madly at the bars of the cage. + </p> + <p> + ‘If he was out now dere would not be much of us left hereabout,’ said Hans + lazily. ‘He screams goot. See, now, how I shall tame him when he stops + himself.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a pause in the outcry, and from Hans’ mouth came an imitation of + a snake’s hiss, so perfect that I almost sprang to my feet. The sustained + murderous sound ran along the deck, and the wrenching at the bars ceased. + The orang-outang was quaking in an ecstasy of pure terror. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dot stopped him,’ said Hans. ‘I learned dot trick in Mogoung Tanjong when + I was collecting liddle monkeys for some peoples in Berlin. Efery one in + der world is afraid of der monkeys—except der snake. So I blay snake + against monkey, and he keep quite still. Dere was too much Ego in his + Cosmos. Dot is der soul-custom of monkeys. Are you asleep, or will you + listen, and I will tell a dale dot you shall not pelief?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s no tale in the wide world that I can’t believe,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you haf learned pelief you haf learned somedings. Now I shall try your + pelief. Goot! When I was collecting dose liddle monkeys—it was in + ‘79 or ‘80, und I was in der islands of der Archipelago—over dere in + der dark’—he pointed southward to New Guinea generally—‘Mein + Gott! I would sooner collect life red devils than liddle monkeys. When dey + do not bite off your thumbs dey are always dying from nostalgia—home-sick—for + dey haf der imperfect soul, which is midway arrested in defelopment—und + too much Ego. I was dere for nearly a year, und dere I found a man dot was + called Bertran. He was a Frenchman, und he was goot man—naturalist + to his bone. Dey said he was an escaped convict, but he was naturalist, + und dot was enough for me. He would call all der life beasts from der + forest, und dey would come. I said he was St. Francis of Assizi in a new + dransmigration produced, und he laughed und said he haf never preach to + der fishes. He sold dem for tripang—beche-de-mer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Und dot man, who was king of beasts-tamer men, he had in der house shust + such anoder as dot devil-animal in der cage—a great orang-outang dot + thought he was a man. He haf found him when he was a child—der + orang-outang—und he was child und brother und opera comique all + round to Betran. He had his room in dot house—not a cage, but a room—mit + a bed und sheets, und he would go to bed und get up in der morning und + smoke his cigar und eat his dinner mit Bertran, und walk mit him hand in + hand, which was most horrible. Herr Gott! I haf seen dot beast throw + himself back in his chair und laugh when Bertran haf made fun of me. He + was NOT a beast; he was a man, und he talked to Bertran, und Bertran + comprehend, for I have seen dem. Und he was always politeful to me except + when I talk too long to Bertran und say nodings at all to him. Den he + would pull me away—dis great, dark devil, mit his enormous paws—shust + as if I was a child. He was not a beast; he was a man. Dis I saw pefore I + know him three months, und Bertran he haf saw the same; and Bimi, der + orang-outang, haf understood us both, mit his cigar between his big + dog-teeth und der blue gum. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was dere a year, dere und at dere oder islands—somedimes for + monkeys und somedimes for butterflies und orchits. One time Bertran says + to me dot he will be married, because he haf found a girl dot was goot, + und he enquire if this marrying idee was right. I would not say, pecause + it was not me dot was going to be married. Den he go off courting der girl—she + was a half-caste French girl—very pretty. Haf you got a new light + for my cigar? Ouf! Very pretty. Only I say, “Haf you thought of Bimi? If + he pull me away when I talk to you, what will he do to your wife? He will + pull her in pieces. If I was you, Bertran, I would gif my wife for + wedding-present der stuff figure of Bimi.” By dot time I had learned some + dings about der monkey peoples. “Shoot him?” says Bertran. “He is your + beast,” I said; “if he was mine he would be shot now!” + </p> + <p> + ‘Den I felt at der back of my neck der fingers of Bimi. Mein Gott! I tell + you dot he talked through dose fingers. It was der deaf-and-dumb alphabet + all gomplete. He slide his hairy arm round my neck, und he tilt up my chin + und looked into my face, shust to see if I understood his talk so well as + he understood mine. + </p> + <p> + ‘“See now dere!” says Bertran, “und you would shoot him while he is + cuddlin’ you? Dot is der Teuton ingrate!” + </p> + <p> + ‘But I knew dot I had made Bimi a life’s-enemy, pecause his fingers haf + talk murder through the back of my neck. Next dime I see Bimi dere was a + pistol in my belt, und he touched it once, und I open der breech to show + him it was loaded. He haf seen der liddle monkeys killed in der woods: he + understood. + </p> + <p> + ‘So Bertran he was married, and he forgot clean about Bimi dot was + skippin’ alone on der beach mit der half of a human soul in his belly. I + was see him skip, und he took a big bough und thrash der sand till he haf + made a great hole like a grave. So I says to Bertran, “For any sakes, kill + Bimi. He is mad mit der jealousy.” + </p> + <p> + ‘Bertran haf said “He is not mad at all. He haf obey und lofe my wife, und + if she speak he will get her slippers,” und he looked at his wife agross + der room. She was a very pretty girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘Den I said to him, “Dost dou pretend to know monkeys und dis beast dot is + lashing himself mad upon der sands, pecause you do not talk to him? Shoot + him when he comes to der house, for he haf der light in his eye dot means + killing—und killing.” Bimi come to der house, but dere was no light + in his eye. It was all put away, cunning—so cunning—und he + fetch der girl her slippers, und Bertran turn to me und say, “Dost dou + know him in nine months more dan I haf known him in twelve years? Shall a + child stab his fader? I haf fed him, und he was my child. Do not speak + this nonsense to my wife or to me any more.” + </p> + <p> + ‘Dot next day Bertran came to my house to help me make some wood cases for + der specimens, und he tell me dot he haf left his wife a liddle while mit + Bimi in der garden. Den I finish my cases quick, und I say, “Let us go to + your houses und get a trink.” He laugh and say, “Come along, dry mans.” + </p> + <p> + ‘His wife was not in der garden, und Bimi did not come when Bertran + called. Und his wife did not come when he called, und he knocked at her + bedroom door und dot was shut tight—locked. Den he look at me, und + his face was white. I broke down der door mit my shoulder, und der thatch + of der roof was torn into a great hole, und der sun came in upon der + floor. Haf you ever seen paper in der waste-basket, or cards at whist on + der table scattered? Dere was no wife dot could be seen. I tell you dere + was nodings in dot room dot might be a woman. Dere was stuff on der floor + und dot was all. I looked at dese things und I was very sick; but Bertran + looked a liddle longer at what was upon the floor und der walls, und der + hole in der thatch. Den he pegan to laugh, soft und low, und I knew und + thank Gott dot he was mad. He nefer cried, he nefer prayed. He stood all + still in der doorway und laugh to himself. Den he said, “She haf locked + herself in dis room, and he haf torn up der thatch. Fi donc! Dot is so. We + will mend der thatch und wait for Bimi. He will surely come.” + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you we waited ten days in dot house, after der room was made into + a room again, und once or twice we saw Bimi comin’ a liddle way from der + woods. He was afraid pecause he haf done wrong. Bertran called him when he + was come to look on the tenth day, und Bimi come skipping along der beach + und making noises, mit a long piece of black hair in his hands. Den + Bertran laugh and say, “Fi donc!” shust as if it was a glass broken upon + der table; und Bimi come nearer, und Bertran was honey-sweet in his voice + und laughed to himself. For three days he made love to Bimi, pecause Bimi + would not let himself be touched. Den Bimi come to dinner at der same + table mit us, und the hair on his hands was all black und thick mit-mit + what had dried on der hands. Bertran gave him sangaree till Bimi was drunk + and stupid, und den——’ + </p> + <p> + Hans paused to puff at his cigar. + </p> + <p> + ‘And then?’ said I. + </p> + <p> + ‘Und den Bertran he kill him mit his hands, und I go for a walk upon der + beach. It was Bertran’s own piziness. When I come back der ape he was + dead, und Bertran he was dying abofe him; but still he laughed liddle und + low und he was quite content. Now you know der formula of der strength of + der orang-outang—it is more as seven to one in relation to man. But + Bertran, he haf killed Bimi mit sooch dings as Gott gif him. Dot was der + miracle.’ + </p> + <p> + The infernal clamour in the cage recommenced. ‘Aha! Dot friend of ours haf + still too much Ego in his Cosmos. Be quiet, dou!’ + </p> + <p> + Hans hissed long and venomously. We could hear the great beast quaking in + his cage. + </p> + <p> + ‘But why in the world didn’t you help Bertran instead of letting him be + killed?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘My friend,’ said Hans, composedly stretching himself to slumber, ‘it was + not nice even to mineself dot I should live after I haf seen dot room mit + der hole in der thatch. Und Bertran, he was her husband. Goot-night, und—sleep + well.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MOTI GUJ—MUTINEER + </h2> + <p> + Once upon a time there was a coffee-planter in India who wished to clear + some forest land for coffee-planting. When he had cut down all the trees + and burned the under-wood the stumps still remained. Dynamite is expensive + and slow-fire slow. The happy medium for stump-clearing is the lord of all + beats, who is the elephant. He will either push the stump out of the + ground with his tusks, if he has any, or drag it out with ropes. The + planter, therefore, hired elephants by ones and twos and threes, and fell + to work. The very best of all the elephants belonged to the very worst of + all the drivers or mahouts; and the superior beast’s name was Moti Guj. He + was the absolute property of his mahout, which would never have been the + case under native rule, for Moti Guj was a creature to be desired by + kings; and his name, being translated, meant the Pearl Elephant. Because + the British Government was in the land, Deesa, the mahout, enjoyed his + property undisturbed. He was dissipated. When he had made much money + through the strength of his elephant, he would get extremely drunk and + give Moti Guj a beating with a tent-peg over the tender nails of the + forefeet. Moti Guj never trampled the life out of Deesa on these + occasions, for he knew that after the beating was over Deesa would embrace + his trunk and weep and call him his love and his life and the liver of his + soul, and give him some liquor. Moti Guj was very fond of liquor—arrack + for choice, though he would drink palm-tree toddy if nothing better + offered. Then Deesa would go to sleep between Moti Guj’s forefeet, and as + Deesa generally chose the middle of the public road, and as Moti Guj + mounted guard over him and would not permit horse, foot, or cart to pass + by, traffic was congested till Deesa saw fit to wake up. + </p> + <p> + There was no sleeping in the daytime on the planter’s clearing: the wages + were too high to risk. Deesa sat on Moti Guj’s neck and gave him orders, + while Moti Guj rooted up the stumps—for he owned a magnificent pair + of tusks; or pulled at the end of a rope—for he had a magnificent + pair of shoulders, while Deesa kicked him behind the ears and said he was + the king of elephants. At evening time Moti Guj would wash down his three + hundred pounds’ weight of green food with a quart of arrack, and Deesa + would take a share and sing songs between Moti Guj’s legs till it was time + to go to bed. Once a week Deesa led Moti Guj down to the river, and Moti + Guj lay on his side luxuriously in the shallows, while Deesa went over him + with a coir-swab and a brick. Moti Guj never mistook the pounding blow of + the latter for the smack of the former that warned him to get up and turn + over on the other side. Then Deesa would look at his feet, and examine his + eyes, and turn up the fringes of his mighty ears in case of sores or + budding ophthalmia. After inspection, the two would ‘come up with a song + from the sea,’ Moti Guj all black and shining, waving a torn tree branch + twelve feet long in his trunk, and Deesa knotting up his own long wet + hair. + </p> + <p> + It was a peaceful, well-paid life till Deesa felt the return of the desire + to drink deep. He wished for an orgie. The little draughts that led + nowhere were taking the manhood out of him. + </p> + <p> + He went to the planter, and ‘My mother’s dead,’ said he, weeping. + </p> + <p> + ‘She died on the last plantation two months ago; and she died once before + that when you were working for me last year,’ said the planter, who knew + something of the ways of nativedom. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then it’s my aunt, and she was just the same as a mother to me,’ said + Deesa, weeping more than ever. ‘She has left eighteen small children + entirely without bread, and it is I who must fill their little stomachs,’ + said Deesa, beating his head on the floor. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who brought you the news?’ said the planter. + </p> + <p> + ‘The post’ said Deesa. + </p> + <p> + ‘There hasn’t been a post here for the past week. Get back to your lines!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A devastating sickness has fallen on my village, and all my wives are + dying,’ yelled Deesa, really in tears this time. + </p> + <p> + ‘Call Chihun, who comes from Deesa’s village,’ said the planter.’ Chihun, + has this man a wife?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He!’ said Chihun. ‘No. Not a woman of our village would look at him. + They’d sooner marry the elephant.’ Chihun snorted. Deesa wept and + bellowed. + </p> + <p> + ‘You will get into a difficulty in a minute,’ said the planter.’ Go back + to your work!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now I will speak Heaven’s truth’ gulped Deesa, with an inspiration. ‘I + haven’t been drunk for two months. I desire to depart in order to get + properly drunk afar off and distant from this heavenly plantation. Thus I + shall cause no trouble.’ + </p> + <p> + A flickering smile crossed the planter’s face. ‘Deesa,’ said he, ‘you’ve + spoken the truth, and I’d give you leave on the spot if anything could be + done with Moti Guj while you’re away. You know that he will only obey your + orders.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May the Light of the Heavens live forty thousand years. I shall be absent + but ten little days. After that, upon my faith and honour and soul, I + return. As to the inconsiderable interval, have I the gracious permission + of the Heaven-born to call up Moti Guj?’ + </p> + <p> + Permission was granted, and, in answer to Deesa’s shrill yell, the lordly + tusker swung out of the shade of a clump of trees where he had been + squirting dust over himself till his master should return. + </p> + <p> + ‘Light of my heart, Protector of the Drunken, Mountain of Might, give + ear,’ said Deesa, standing in front of him. + </p> + <p> + Moti Guj gave ear, and saluted with his trunk. ‘I am going away,’ said + Deesa. + </p> + <p> + Moti Guj’s eyes twinkled. He liked jaunts as well as his master. One could + snatch all manner of nice things from the roadside then. + </p> + <p> + ‘But you, you fubsy old pig, must stay behind and work.’ + </p> + <p> + The twinkle died out as Moti Guj tried to look delighted. He hated + stump-hauling on the plantation. It hurt his teeth. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall be gone for ten days, O Delectable One. Hold up your near + forefoot and I’ll impress the fact upon it, warty toad of a dried + mud-puddle.’ Deesa took a tent-peg and banged Moti Guj ten times on the + nails. Moti Guj grunted and shuffled from foot to foot. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ten days,’ said Deesa, ‘you must work and haul and root trees as Chihun + here shall order you. Take up Chihun and set him on your neck!’ Moti Guj + curled the tip of his trunk, Chihun put his foot there and was swung on to + the neck. Deesa handed Chihun the heavy ankus, the iron elephant-goad. + </p> + <p> + Chihun thumped Moti Guj’s bald head as a paviour thumps a kerbstone. + </p> + <p> + Moti Guj trumpeted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Be still, hog of the backwoods. Chihun’s your mahout for ten days. And + now bid me good-bye, beast after mine own heart. Oh, my lord, my king! + Jewel of all created elephants, lily of the herd, preserve your honoured + health; be virtuous. Adieu!’ + </p> + <p> + Moti Guj lapped his trunk round Deesa and swung him into the air twice. + That was his way of bidding the man good-bye. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’ll work now,’ said Dessa to the planter. ‘Have I leave to go?’ + </p> + <p> + The planter nodded, and Deesa dived into the woods. Moti Guj went back to + haul stumps. + </p> + <p> + Chihun was very kind to him, but he felt unhappy and forlorn + notwithstanding. Chihun gave him balls of spices, and tickled him under + the chin, and Chihun’s little baby cooed to him after work was over, and + Chihun’s wife called him a darling; but Moti Guj was a bachelor by + instinct, as Deesa was. He did not understand the domestic emotions. He + wanted the light of his universe back again—the drink and the + drunken slumber, the savage beatings and the savage caresses. + </p> + <p> + None the less he worked well, and the planter wondered. Deesa had + vagabonded along the roads till he met a marriage procession of his own + caste and, drinking, dancing, and tippling, had drifted past all knowledge + of the lapse of time. + </p> + <p> + The morning of the eleventh day dawned, and there returned no Deesa. Moti + Guj was loosed from his ropes for the daily stint. He swung clear, looked + round, shrugged his shoulders, and began to walk away, as one having + business elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hi! ho! Come back, you,’ shouted Chihun. ‘Come back, and put me on your + neck, Misborn Mountain. Return, Splendour of the Hillsides. Adornment of + all India, heave to, or I’ll bang every toe off your fat fore-foot!’ + </p> + <p> + Moti Guj gurgled gently, but did not obey. Chihun ran after him with a + rope and caught him up. Moti Guj put his ears forward, and Chihun knew + what that meant, though he tried to carry it off with high words. + </p> + <p> + ‘None of your nonsense with me,’ said he. ‘To your pickets, Devil-son.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hrrump!’ said Moti Guj, and that was all—that and the forebent + ears. + </p> + <p> + Moti Guj put his hands in his pockets, chewed a branch for a toothpick, + and strolled about the clearing, making jest of the other elephants, who + had just set to work. + </p> + <p> + Chihun reported the state of affairs to the planter, who came out with a + dog-whip and cracked it furiously. Moti Guj paid the white man the + compliment of charging him nearly a quarter of a mile across the clearing + and ‘Hrrumping’ him into the verandah. Then he stood outside the house + chuckling to himself, and shaking all over with the fun of it, as an + elephant will. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ll thrash him,’ said the planter. ‘He shall have the finest thrashing + that ever elephant received. Give Kala Nag and Nazim twelve foot of chain + apiece, and tell them to lay on twenty blows.’ + </p> + <p> + Kala Nag—which means Black Snake—and Nazim were two of the + biggest elephants in the lines, and one of their duties was to administer + the graver punishments, since no man can beat an elephant properly. + </p> + <p> + They took the whipping-chains and rattled them in their trunks as they + sidled up to Moti Guj, meaning to hustle him between them. Moti Guj had + never, in all his life of thirty-nine years, been whipped, and he did not + intend to open new experiences. So he waited, weaving his head from right + to left, and measuring the precise spot in Kala Nag’s fat side where a + blunt tusk would sink deepest. Kala Nag had no tusks; the chain was his + badge of authority; but he judged it good to swing wide of Moti Guj at the + last minute, and seem to appear as if he had brought out the chain for + amusement. Nazim turned round and went home early. He did not feel + fighting-fit that morning, and so Moti Guj was left standing alone with + his ears cocked. + </p> + <p> + That decided the planter to argue no more, and Moti Guj rolled back to his + inspection of the clearing. An elephant who will not work, and is not tied + up, is not quite so manageable as an eighty-one ton gun loose in a heavy + sea-way. He slapped old friends on the back and asked them if the stumps + were coming away easily; he talked nonsense concerning labour and the + inalienable rights of elephants to a long ‘nooning’; and, wandering to and + fro, thoroughly demoralized the garden till sundown, when he returned to + his pickets for food. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you won’t work you shan’t eat,’ said Chihun angrily. ‘You’re a wild + elephant, and no educated animal at all. Go back to your jungle.’ + </p> + <p> + Chihun’s little brown baby, rolling on the floor of the hut, stretched its + fat arms to the huge shadow in the doorway. Moti Guj knew well that it was + the dearest thing on earth to Chihun. He swung out his trunk with a + fascinating crook at the end, and the brown baby threw itself shouting + upon it. Moti Guj made fast and pulled up till the brown baby was crowing + in the air twelve feet above his father’s head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Great Chief!’ said Chihun. ‘Flour cakes of the best, twelve in number, + two feet across, and soaked in rum shall be yours on the instant, and two + hundred pounds’ weight of fresh-cut young sugar-cane therewith. Deign only + to put down safely that insignificant brat who is my heart and my life to + me.’ + </p> + <p> + Moti Guj tucked the brown baby comfortably between his forefeet, that + could have knocked into toothpicks all Chihun’s hut, and waited for his + food. He ate it, and the brown baby crawled away. Moti Guj dozed, and + thought of Deesa. One of many mysteries connected with the elephant is + that his huge body needs less sleep than anything else that lives. Four or + five hours in the night suffice—two just before midnight, lying down + on one side; two just after one o’clock, lying down on the other. The rest + of the silent hours are filled with eating and fidgeting and long + grumbling soliloquies. + </p> + <p> + At midnight, therefore, Moti Guj strode out of his pickets, for a thought + had come to him that Deesa might be lying drunk somewhere in the dark + forest with none to look after him. So all that night he chased through + the undergrowth, blowing and trumpeting and shaking his ears. He went down + to the river and blared across the shallows where Deesa used to wash him, + but there was no answer. He could not find Deesa, but he disturbed all the + elephants in the lines, and nearly frightened to death some gypsies in the + woods. + </p> + <p> + At dawn Deesa returned to the plantation. He had been very drunk indeed, + and he expected to fall into trouble for outstaying his leave. He drew a + long breath when he saw that the bungalow and the plantation were still + uninjured; for he knew something of Moti Guj’s temper; and reported + himself with many lies and salaams. Moti Guj had gone to his pickets for + breakfast. His night exercise had made him hungry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Call up your beast,’ said the planter, and Deesa shouted in the + mysterious elephant-language, that some mahouts believe came from China at + the birth of the world, when elephants and not men were masters. Moti Guj + heard and came. Elephants do not gallop. They move from spots at varying + rates of speed. If an elephant wished to catch an express train he could + not gallop, but he could catch the train. Thus Moti Guj was at the + planter’s door almost before Chihun noticed that he had left his pickets. + He fell into Deesa’s arms trumpeting with joy, and the man and beast wept + and slobbered over each other, and handled each other from head to heel to + see that no harm had befallen. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now we will get to work,’ said Deesa. ‘Lift me up, my son and my joy.’ + </p> + <p> + Moti Guj swung him up and the two went to the coffee-clearing to look for + irksome stumps. + </p> + <p> + The planter was too astonished to be very angry. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + L’ENVOI + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My new-cut ashlar takes the light + Where crimson-blank the windows flare; + By my own work, before the night, + Great Overseer, I make my prayer. + + If there be good in that I wrought, + Thy hand compelled it, Master, Thine; + Where I have failed to meet Thy thought + I know, through Thee, the blame is mine. + + One instant’s toil to Thee denied + Stands all Eternity’s offence, + Of that I did with Thee to guide + To Thee, through Thee, be excellence. + + Who, lest all thought of Eden fade, + Bring’st Eden to the craftsman’s brain, + Godlike to muse o’er his own trade + And Manlike stand with God again. + + The depth and dream of my desire, + The bitter paths wherein I stray, + Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire, + Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay. + + One stone the more swings to her place + In that dread Temple of Thy Worth + —It is enough that through Thy grace + I saw naught common on Thy earth. + + Take not that vision from my ken; + Oh whatso’er may spoil or speed, + Help me to need no aid from men + That I may help such men as need! +</pre> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Life’s Handicap, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE’S HANDICAP *** + +***** This file should be named 5777-h.htm or 5777-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/7/5777/ + +Text file produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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