Part 13 (1/2)
Then belching blunderbuss answered back The Snider's snarl and the carbine's crack, And the blithe revolver began to sing To the blade that tw.a.n.ged on the locking-ring, And the brown flesh blued where the bay'net kissed, As the steel shot back with a wrench and a twist, And the great white bullocks with onyx eyes Watched the souls of the dead arise, And over the smoke of the fusillade The Peac.o.c.k Banner staggered and swayed.
Oh, gayest of scrimmages man may see Is a well-worked rush on the G.B.T.!
The Babu shook at the horrible sight, And girded his ponderous loins for flight, But Fate had ordained that the Boh should start On a lone-hand raid of the rearmost cart, And out of that cart, with a bellow of woe, The Babu fell--flat on the top of the Boh!
For years had Harendra served the State, To the growth of his purse and the girth of his _pet_.
There were twenty stone, as the tally-man knows, On the broad of the chest of this best of Bohs.
And twenty stone from a height discharged Are bad for a Boh with a spleen enlarged.
Oh, short was the struggle--severe was the shock-- He dropped like a bullock--he lay like a block; And the Babu above him, convulsed with fear, Heard the labouring life-breath hissed out in his ear.
And thus in a fas.h.i.+on undignified The princely pest of the Chindwin died.
Turn now to Simoorie where, lapped in his ease, The Captain is petting the Bride on his knees, Where the whit of the bullet, the wounded man's scream Are mixed as the mist of some devilish dream-- Forgotten, forgotten the sweat of the shambles Where the hill-daisy blooms and the gray monkey gambols, From the sword-belt set free and released from the steel, The Peace of the Lord is with Captain O'Neil.
Up the hill to Simoorie--most patient of drudges-- The bags on his shoulder, the mail-runner trudges.
”For Captain O'Neil, Sahib. One hundred and ten Rupees to collect on delivery.”
Then
(Their breakfast was stopped while the screw-jack and hammer Tore waxcloth, split teak-wood, and chipped out the dammer;)
Open-eyed, open-mouthed, on the napery's snow, With a crash and a thud, rolled--the Head of the Boh!
And gummed to the scalp was a letter which ran:-- ”IN FIELDING FORCE SERVICE.
”Encampment, ”--th Jan.
”Dear Sir,--I have honour to send, as you said, For final approval (see under) Boh's Head;
”Was took by myself in most b.l.o.o.d.y affair.
”By High Education brought pressure to bear.
”Now violate Liberty, time being bad, To mail V.P.P. (rupees hundred) Please add
”Whatever Your Honour can pa.s.s. Price of Blood Much cheap at one hundred, and children want food;
”So trusting Your Honour will somewhat retain True love and affection for Govt. Bullock Train,
”And show awful kindness to satisfy me, I am, Graceful Master, Your H. MUKERJI.”
As the rabbit is drawn to the rattlesnake's power, As the smoker's eye fills at the opium hour, As a horse reaches up to the manger above, As the waiting ear yearns for the whisper of love, From the arms of the Bride, iron-visaged and slow, The Captain bent down to the Head of the Boh.