Part 23 (1/2)
”'Tis not,” he rejoined in a vigorously defensive tone; ”and 'tis little ye know. This is a queer country; the people are terribly superst.i.tious and weak in themselves, on account of _nats_ and bad spirits.”
”Oh, that I can believe,” replied Shafto; ”your pals in the _gharry_ could tell you something about bad spirits.”
”Wait now and I'll explain,” said the _pongye_, with an intimate gesture of his great bony hand.
”Sometimes I've a sort of ache to be mixing up with European soldiers--even if it's only for a couple of hours.” After a pause he added in a thoughtful tone, ”For ye see I was wance a soldier meself.”
”What!”
”It's the pure truth I'm tellin' ye--a corporal, with two good-conduct stripes; the other week Paddy Nolan had drink taken, and nothin' would please him but that he must drive, so he turned off the _garriwan_ and made a cruel bad hand of it--as you saw for yourself! They were a couple of raw new ponies, come down out of last drove, and unused to trams and motors, and frightened dancing mad; only for you heading them off, we were all as dead as mutton.”
”But how did you get into the Burmese priesthood?” inquired Shafto with abrupt irrelevance.
”It was like this, sorr, I'm country-born; me father was a sergeant in the Irish Rifles, me mother was a half-caste--an Anglo-Indian from Ceylon--so I'm half Irish, quarter Cingalese. I was left an orphan when I was seven years old and educated at the Lawrence Asylum. I always had a wonderful twist for languages; it came as easy as breathing to me to talk Tamil or Telugu. Well, when I was close on eighteen I enlisted and put in seven years with the Colours, mostly in Bengal; then we come over here and lay in Mandalay and, after a bit, I--somehow got lost.”
”That is, you deserted,” sternly amended Shafto.
”Oh well, have it whatever way ye like, sorr. I was shootin' in the jungles and was took terribly bad with fever and nearly died. The natives are good-natured, kind, soft people--none better; they took me in and nursed me, and one of the _pongyes_ doctored me. You see, I was entirely out of touch with Europeans, and when I got cured was just a walking skeleton. Some thief had made away with my boots and breeches, so I stopped among the natives and never laid eyes on a white face for two years. I soon picked up the Burmese lingo, which some say is difficult; but to me it was aisy as kiss me hand. Then I was received into the priesthood; that was over seven years ago, and here I am still. Of course, as ye know, I can go or stay as I please; but I stick to the yellow robe as if it was me skin. Still and all, I won't deny that the sight of a soldier draws me, and that,” he concluded modestly, ”is my only wakeness.”
”I say, you don't mean to tell me that you are a _real_ Buddhist?”
”Why, of course I am; what else would I be? The religion is pure and good and friendly; the other priests know that I'm from India--and that's enough for _them_. In this country no questions is asked--and that's what makes livin' so nice and aisy. And, sure, aren't we Buddhists all over the world? Our doctrines are wise and ancient; we pray and keep fasts and live to ourselves, and there's little differ, in my mind, between us and the Catholic religion--in which I was born and reared. Haven't we the ma.s.s, and vespers, and beads, and monasteries, and Lent,--all complate?”
”So then you're a celibate--a monk?”
”And to be shure I am; ye don't think I look like a nun, do ye?”
”A water drinker?”
”Well, sorr, I'm tell ye no lie--not altogether; I am not a teetotaller all out, I'm a sober man, and I mostly drink cocoanut water and tea.
It's a fine, free life, I can tell ye.”
”Fine and idle, eh?”
”I'm not more idle than the rest of them; it's true that I don't teach, and, of course, it's only the young fellows that do the sweeping, water-carrying and filtering, and the work at the _kyoung_. I see a heap of the country and have many friends, who give me small presents, and smokes and food; I have a far better time--a thousand times a better time--than sweating in route marches and carrying round Orderly books in Rangoon or Calcutta; and many a the quare tale I could tell ye--tales about animals and elephant dances and big snakes, ay, and spirit tales that would open your eyes.”
”Well, if it's any comfort to know it, you've opened my eyes about as wide as they will go. What is your real name?”
”Michael Ryan. Me father came from Cork--a real fine country for fighting men, and I understand that, once upon a time, my ancestors had a great kingdom beyond the Shannon. Well, sorr,” now beginning to unfold himself and rise from the bed, ”I thought I'd just drop in and explain matters a bit before I go up country.”
”That was very thoughtful of you, Mung Baw.”
”I'll be back in a while, and I needn't tell ye, Mr. Shafto, that as long as I draw breath I'll never forget how I'm beholden to ye. I'm vowed to poverty, of course, but I'm a rover and go about a lot, and some day I may be able to put a good thing in your way, and I can tell ye one thing--ye have a lucky face!”
”I'm glad to hear it; and now, before you depart, will you tell me something else? How do you contrive to get so much liberty--careering round the town with Tommies and coming to look me up? It's past seven o'clock--and I understand your Roll Call is at six.”
”That's true,” a.s.sented the _pongye_, ”but there are exceptions, and I'm one of them,” suddenly sliding off the bed and drawing himself up to his full height--about six feet two. ”I don't enjoy very good health being, as ye understand, no native of the country; so I'm allowed a certain margin and liberty. Well now, I'll be takin' leave of ye; but before I go, I want you to accept something I brought you--just a small trifle of a talisman.”
And from some mysterious receptacle he produced a good-sized dark stone, about the size of a pigeon's egg. ”Now, whatever ye do, put this carefully away and keep it safe and secure.”