" said Revere, but his heart was full of much
more pleasant words.
more pleasant words.
Kipling - Poems
"
"Scales? What scales? "
"Fish-scales, sir. 'E's always pokin' in the mud by the river an'
a-cleanin' them muchly-fish with 'is thumbs. " Revere was still absorbed
in the Company papers, and the Sergeant, who was sternly fond of Bobby,
continued,--"'E generally goes down there when 'e's got 'is skinful,
beggin' your pardon, sir, an' they do say that the more lush
in-he-briated 'e is, the more fish 'e catches. They call 'im the Looney
Fish-monger in the Comp'ny, sir. "
Revere signed the last paper and the Sergeant retreated.
"It's a filthy amusement," sighed Bobby to himself. Then aloud to
Revere: "Are you really worried about Dormer? "
"A little. You see he's never mad enough to send to a hospital, or
drunk enough to run in, but at any minute he may flare up, brooding and
sulking as he does. He resents any interest being shown in him, and the
only time I took him out shooting he all but shot me by accident. "
"I fish," said Bobby, with a wry face. "I hire a country-boat and go
down the river from Thursday to Sunday, and the amiable Dormer goes with
me--if you can spare us both. "
"You blazing young fool!
" said Revere, but his heart was full of much
more pleasant words.
Bobby, the Captain of a dhoni, with Private Dormer for mate, dropped
down the river on Thursday morning--the Private at the bow, the
Subaltern at the helm. The Private glared uneasily at the Subaltern, who
respected the reserve of the Private.
After six hours, Dormer paced to the stern, saluted, and said--"Beg
y'pardon, sir, but was you ever on the Durh'm Canal? "
"No," said Bobby Wick. "Come and have some tiffin. "
They ate in silence. As the evening fell, Private Dormer broke forth,
speaking to himself--"Hi was on the Durh'm Canal, jes' such a night,
come next week twelve month, a-trailin' of my toes in the water. " He
smoked and said no more till bedtime.
The witchery of the dawn turned the grey river-reaches to purple, gold,
and opal; and it was as though the lumbering dhoni crept across the
splendors of a new heaven.
Private Dormer popped his head out of his blanket and gazed at the glory
below and around.
"Well--damn-my-eyes! " said Private Dormer, in an awed whisper. "This
'ere is like a bloomin' gallantry-show! " For the rest of the day he was
dumb, but achieved an ensanguined filthiness through the cleaning of big
fish.
The boat returned on Saturday evening.
"Scales? What scales? "
"Fish-scales, sir. 'E's always pokin' in the mud by the river an'
a-cleanin' them muchly-fish with 'is thumbs. " Revere was still absorbed
in the Company papers, and the Sergeant, who was sternly fond of Bobby,
continued,--"'E generally goes down there when 'e's got 'is skinful,
beggin' your pardon, sir, an' they do say that the more lush
in-he-briated 'e is, the more fish 'e catches. They call 'im the Looney
Fish-monger in the Comp'ny, sir. "
Revere signed the last paper and the Sergeant retreated.
"It's a filthy amusement," sighed Bobby to himself. Then aloud to
Revere: "Are you really worried about Dormer? "
"A little. You see he's never mad enough to send to a hospital, or
drunk enough to run in, but at any minute he may flare up, brooding and
sulking as he does. He resents any interest being shown in him, and the
only time I took him out shooting he all but shot me by accident. "
"I fish," said Bobby, with a wry face. "I hire a country-boat and go
down the river from Thursday to Sunday, and the amiable Dormer goes with
me--if you can spare us both. "
"You blazing young fool!
" said Revere, but his heart was full of much
more pleasant words.
Bobby, the Captain of a dhoni, with Private Dormer for mate, dropped
down the river on Thursday morning--the Private at the bow, the
Subaltern at the helm. The Private glared uneasily at the Subaltern, who
respected the reserve of the Private.
After six hours, Dormer paced to the stern, saluted, and said--"Beg
y'pardon, sir, but was you ever on the Durh'm Canal? "
"No," said Bobby Wick. "Come and have some tiffin. "
They ate in silence. As the evening fell, Private Dormer broke forth,
speaking to himself--"Hi was on the Durh'm Canal, jes' such a night,
come next week twelve month, a-trailin' of my toes in the water. " He
smoked and said no more till bedtime.
The witchery of the dawn turned the grey river-reaches to purple, gold,
and opal; and it was as though the lumbering dhoni crept across the
splendors of a new heaven.
Private Dormer popped his head out of his blanket and gazed at the glory
below and around.
"Well--damn-my-eyes! " said Private Dormer, in an awed whisper. "This
'ere is like a bloomin' gallantry-show! " For the rest of the day he was
dumb, but achieved an ensanguined filthiness through the cleaning of big
fish.
The boat returned on Saturday evening.
