Part 32 (1/2)

The two girls made suspicious use of their handkerchiefs; Joe Browne kicked Ferrier under the table; and Oliver, choking over his coffee, accused Mr. Halliday of smoking very strong cigars. John and the elder members of the party preserved their gravity, though it was in a curiously constrained tone that John asked the Bengali to favour the company. With a smile of gratification Said Mohammed unrolled a scroll of paper, and, looking round to make sure that every one was attending, began in his high-pitched voice--

Hear me tell a moving story, chronicled in lofty rhyme, Redolent of stripling's glory, monument to end of time.

Idol of my veneration, you I celebrate in song; Ornament of British nation, you I crack up, hot and strong.

To begin at the beginning: When one day, at usual pace, Our oblate spheroid was spinning through an awful lot of s.p.a.ce, You, an up-to-date Orion, Enfield rifle in your hand, Did for most obnoxious lion, holy terror in the land.

Next, predaceous gang, Swahilis--Juma, if you please, and Co.,-- Prowling, slippery as eel is, on the rampage to and fro, Depredated native village, spreading woe and dire alarm, Then for more important pillage fell like ton of bricks on farm.

Faithful servant, Said Mohammed, feeling anything but bold, Like a bleating orphan lamb hid, sniffing wolves within the fold; While despoilers collared rifles, ammunition, sh.e.l.l and shot; Item, sundry piffling trifles which the poet has forgot.

Minions of a base levanter, villains of the deepest dye,-- You are after them instanter, lightning flas.h.i.+ng from your eye; Swoop upon them in their slumbers, catch them fairly on the hop, Though inferior in numbers, smite them hip and thigh and crop.

Terrified by dire disaster, they make hurry-scurry flight.

Yoicks! our whipper-in goes faster, helter-skelter day and night, Till dark citadel is sighted, wall-encircled, likewise moat.

Is prodigious effort blighted? Not at all: we simply gloat.

Roberts' grit and Caesar's clear eye--honestly, you have them both.

'Fas est ab hoste doceri,' august Roman general quoth: Taking leaf from book of Juma, you perpended ruse de guerre, And with dodgy slimness you manoeuvred brigands from their lair.

Penned within restricted compa.s.s, you repel the fierce attack, Calm amid most awful rumpus: things are looking very black.

Lo! in thickest of the slaughter, one sees chance of chipping in, And with can of boiling water stems the tide and scores a win.

Threat of famine, grisly spectre, makes us look a little blue; But our commonwealth's protector, launching forth in bark canoe, Quits the precincts of the island, marches at a spanking pace, Up-hill, down-hill, swamp and dry land, perfect Nimrod in the chase.

Hippopotamus stupendous to your prowess falls a prey.

Ministers of grace defend us! you are spirited away.

Lo! proverbially fickle, Fortune knocks you from your perch, Leaves you in a pretty pickle, or, as you may say, the lurch.

Meditating in your prison, through the darkling stilly night, Ere red Phoebus has arisen you have perpetrated flight: Swift rejoin the little party by Swahili sore oppressed; Juma then is in the cart, he gets a bullet in the chest.

Pardon slight inaccuracy, due to exigence of rhyme; Frenzied poet, going pace, imagines only the sublime.

Be pedestrian and pedantic when you're patronizing prose, Spur your Pegasus quite frantic when a poem you compose.

To return from this diversion, and to make long story short, After enemy's dispersion you evacuated fort; Made a bee-line for the village, situated on a hill, Scooped the products of their tillage, bloodless coup, resistance nil.

Expediting preparations for strategic move in rear, 'Mid poor females' ululations, most distressing to the ear-- What makes all your pulses throb? oh! what sets all your nerves athrill?

'Tis s.h.i.+kari Wanderobbo, or, to use his alias, Bill.

Pale with rage and indignation (metaphorically pale), Billy tells of spoliation, thieves his property a.s.sail.

Tartar like the bold Cambuscan (Chaucer left his tale half-told), Juma digs up every tusk and Bill is absolutely sold.

Now behold you on your mettle; now momentous hour has struck, You in most pugnacious fettle sally forth to try your luck; Meet marauders by the river, fall on them like bolt from blue, Crying 'Stand and eke deliver, or I'll run you through and through!'