Camp Fire Yarns of the Lost LegionHamilton-Browne, G.
History
Camp Fire Yarns of the Lost Legion
Hamilton-Browne, G.
Māori (New Zealand people) -- Warfare; New Zealand -- History -- Anecdotes; Zulu War, 1879
"Water, indeed," snarled Davy. "I sha'n't want no water for another
month." And he made a motion to the barman to pass the bottle.
"Here, ease up, Davy," said I. "You've had enough. Leave the whisky
alone, and come over here. Sit down and tell us how you got on this
afternoon at the washing fête."
"Whoi," grumbled the old fellow, whom, it seemed, the third nobbler
had somewhat pacified, as he took the offered chair and proceeded to
light his pipe, "I didn't get on at all, and this new-fangled religion
ain't worth a cuss. 'Tain't one as any man with any common-sense 'ud
cotton to, and as for the sky-pilot, he's jist as hignorant as a
howl."
"Well, well, tell us all about it. Did you imbibe the faith?"
"Faith, be d----d!" he growled. "I didn't imbibe nothing except a
gallon or two of Modder River water." And he expectorated with
disgust. However, after he had been smoothed down a bit, and had had
another tot, he bucked up and related his tribulations as follows:--
"You see, boys," said he, "I went down to the Modder River this
afternoon, with a large party of other converts. The shepherd, as 'e
calls his blooming self, 'e comes along too, and brings two or three
of the sharps as 'elps 'im. Well, when we got there we finds a couple
of tents pitched: one for the ladies, and one for us men, to take off
our duds in. Well, after a bit, one of the sharps, he comes to me, and
sez he: 'Brother, we's going to commence along with you.' So 'e shows
me into the tent, and sez he: 'Brother, remove your gaudy 'abiliments
and put on this 'ere garb of simplicity.' And with that 'e 'ands me a
sort of a nightgown which came to about me knees. As soon as I was
togged out, feelin' a bit ashamed of meself rigged out like that, he
leads me down to the river bank and there was the shepherd, as 'e
calls hisself, long, thin, herring-gutted devil, standing up to his
middle in the water. 'Enter, brother,' he sings out to me, 'and 'ave
your manifold sins swabbed away.' I wades in and whin I reaches 'im
the water took me up to the chin. He begins his palaver, and before I
knowed where I was 'e puts his two hands on me shoulders and ducks me
bloomin 'ead under. He fair took me by surprise 'e did, or I'd 'ave
took an extra breath of air. As it was, I lost me footin', and 'ad to
struggle to come up. Me old skull-cap comes off and I got me 'ead
above water, but no sooner did 'e see me old bald pate appear than he
shoved it down agin, and kep' on a-doing so until I was near drownded.
Should 'ave bin, I believe, 'ad I not managed to giv' 'im a punch in
the bread-basket which shut 'im hup like a pair of scissors, and then
I scrambles out and runs to the tent nigh water-logged. Presently
along 'e comes, and sez 'e to me, sez 'e: 'Brother, wherefore did you
assault me while in the water?' And I sez to 'im: 'You ain't no
brother of mine. What for did yer try to drown me?' 'Brother,' sez 'e,
'I knew not you was so bald, and when yer 'ead appeared above the
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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