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Kipling Stories and Poems Every Child Should Know Part 23

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"Has the Sahib forgotten; or do we black men only see the G.o.ds?"

"There was a fever upon me." Findlayson was still looking uneasily across the water. "It seemed that the island was full of beasts and men talking, but I do not remember. A boat could live in this water now, I think."

"Oho! Then it _is_ true. 'When Brahm ceases to dream, the G.o.ds die.'

Now I know, indeed, what he meant. Once, too, the _guru_ said as much to me; but then I did not understand. Now I am wise."

"What?" said Findlayson over his shoulder.



Peroo went on as if he were talking to himself. "Six--seven--ten monsoons since, I was watch on the fo'c'sle of the _Rewah_--the k.u.mpani's big boat--and there was a big _tufan_, green and black water beating; and I held fast to the life-lines, choking under the waters.

Then I thought of the G.o.ds--of Those whom we saw to-night"--he stared curiously at Findlayson's back, but the white man was looking across the flood. "Yes, I say of Those whom we saw this night past, and I called upon Them to protect me. And while I prayed, still keeping my lookout, a big wave came and threw me forward upon the ring of the great black bow-anchor, and the _Rewah_ rose high and high, leaning toward the left-hand side, and the water drew away from beneath her nose, and I lay upon my belly, holding the ring, and looking down into those great deeps. Then I thought, even in the face of death, if I lose hold I die, and for me neither the _Rewah_ nor my place by the galley where the rice is cooked, nor Bombay, nor Calcutta, nor even London, will be any more for me. 'How shall I be sure,' I said, 'that the G.o.ds to whom I pray will abide at all?' This I thought, and the _Rewah_ dropped her nose as a hammer falls, and all the sea came in and slid me backward along the fo'c'sle and over the break of the fo'c'sle, and I very badly bruised my s.h.i.+n against the donkey-engine: but I did not die, and I have seen the G.o.ds. They are good for live men, but for the dead----They have spoken Themselves. Therefore, when I come to the village I will beat the _guru_ for talking riddles which are no riddles. When Brahm ceases to dream, the G.o.ds go."

"Look up-stream. The light blinds. Is there smoke yonder?"

Peroo shaded his eyes with his hands. "He is a wise man and quick.

Hitchc.o.c.k Sahib would not trust a rowboat. He has borrowed the Rao Sahib's steam-launch, and comes to look for us. I have always said that there should have been a steam-launch on the bridge-works for us."

The territory of the Rao of Baraon lay within ten miles of the bridge; and Findlayson and Hitchc.o.c.k had spent a fair portion of their scanty leisure in playing billiards and shooting Black-buck with the young man. He had been bear-led by an English tutor of sporting tastes for some five or six years, and was now royally wasting the revenues acc.u.mulated during his minority by the Indian Government. His steam-launch, with its silver-plated rails, striped silk awning, and mahogany decks, was a new toy which Findlayson had found horribly in the way when the Rao came to look at the bridge-works.

"It's great luck," murmured Findlayson, but he was none the less afraid, wondering what news might be of the bridge.

The gaudy blue and white funnel came down-stream swiftly. They could see Hitchc.o.c.k in the bows, with a pair of opera-gla.s.ses, and his face was unusually white. Then Peroo hailed, and the launch made for the tail of the island. The Rao Sahib, in tweed shooting-suit and a seven-hued turban, waved his royal hand, and Hitchc.o.c.k shouted. But he need have asked no questions, for Findlayson's first demand was for his bridge.

"All serene! 'Gad, I never expected to see you again, Findlayson.

You're seven koss down-stream. Yes, there's not a stone s.h.i.+fted anywhere; but how are you? I borrowed the Rao Sahib's launch, and he was good enough to come along. Jump in."

"Ah, Finlinson, you are very well, eh? That was most unprecedented calamity last night, eh? My royal palace, too, it leaks like the devil, and the crops will also be short all about my country. Now you shall back her out, Hitchc.o.c.k. I--I do not understand steam-engines.

You are wet? You are cold Finlinson? I have some things to eat here, and you will take a good drink."

"I'm immensely grateful, Rao Sahib. I believe you've saved my life.

How did Hitchc.o.c.k----"

"Oho! His hair was upon end. He rode to me in the middle of the night and woke me up in the arms of Morphus. I was most truly concerned, Finlinson, so I came too. My head-priest he is very angry just now. We will go quick, Mister Hitchc.o.c.k. I am due to attend at twelve-forty-five in the state temple, where we sanctify some new idol. If not so I would have asked you to spend the day with me. They are dam-bore, these religious ceremonies, Finlinson, eh?"

Peroo, well known to the crew, had possessed himself of the wheel, and was taking the launch craftily up-stream. But while he steered he was, in his mind, handling two feet of partially untwisted wire-rope; and the back upon which he beat was the back of his _guru_.

IV

THE MIRACLES

I sent a message to my dear-- A thousand leagues and more to her-- The dumb sea-levels thrilled to hear, And lost Atlantis bore to her.

Behind my message hard I came, And nigh had found a grave for me; But that I launched of steel and flame Did war against the wave for me.

Uprose the deep, by gale on gale, To bid me change my mind again-- He broke his teeth along my rail, And, roaring, swung behind again.

I stayed the sun at noon to tell My way across the waste of it; I read the storm before it fell And made the better haste of it.

Afar, I hailed the land at night-- The towers I built had heard of me-- And, ere my rocket reached its height, Had flashed my Love the word of me.

Earth gave her chosen men of strength (They lived and strove and died for me) To drive my road a nation's length, And toss the miles aside for me.

I s.n.a.t.c.hed their toil to serve my needs-- Too slow their fleetest flew for me-- I tired twenty smoking steeds, And bade them bait a new for me.

I sent the lightnings forth to see Where hour by hour she waited me.

Among ten million one was she, And surely all men hated me!

Dawn ran to meet us at my goal-- Ah, day no tongue shall tell again!-- And little folk of little soul Rose up to buy and sell again!

V

OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS

1897

(_Canadian Preferential Tariff, 1897_)

A Nation spoke to a Nation.

A Queen sent word to a Throne: "Daughter am I in my mother's house But mistress in my own.

The gates are mine to open, As the gates are mine to close, And I set my house in order,"

Said our Lady of the Snows.

"Neither with laughter nor weeping, Fear or the child's amaze-- Soberly under the White Man's law My white men go their ways.

Not for the Gentiles' clamour-- Insult or threat of blows-- Bow we the knee to Baal,"

Said our Lady of the Snows.

"My speech is clean and single, I talk of common things-- Words of the wharf and the market-place And the ware the merchant brings: Favour to those I favour, But a stumbling-block to my foes.

Many there be that hate us,"

Said our Lady of the Snows.

"I called my chiefs to council In the din of a troubled year; For the sake of a sign ye would not see, And a word ye would not hear.

This is our message and answer; This is the path we chose: For we be also a people,"

Said our Lady of the Snows.

"Carry the word to my sisters-- To the Queens of the East and the South I have proven faith in the Heritage By more than the word of the mouth.

They that are wise may follow Ere the world's war-trumpet blows, But I--I am first in the battle,"

Said our Lady of the Snows.

_A Nation spoke to a Nation, A Throne sent word to a Throne: "Daughter am I in my mother's house, But mistress in my own.

The gates are mine to open, As the gates are mine to close, And I abide by my Mother's House,"

Said our Lady of the Snows._

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Kipling Stories and Poems Every Child Should Know Part 23 summary

You're reading Kipling Stories and Poems Every Child Should Know. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): Rudyard Kipling. Already has 687 views.

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