Adventure stories; British -- Portugal -- Fiction; Lisbon (Portugal) -- Fiction; Love stories
Nor was that all. Such of the men as were sober and decent had drifted
to our end and stood in line as a guard over the women. A space of very
few feet divided us from the rowdies; and as they still persisted in
keeping up a racket, I determined to use the authority with which my
victory had invested me, to try and stop some of the din.
I picked out three of the strongest men near me, told them what I meant
to do, and asked their help. We were, of course, heavily handicapped in
numbers; but we were sober and capable of concerted action, whereas the
others were mostly drunk and at loggerheads even with one another.
Four of us crossed the dividing line and without a word seized four of
the noisiest of the crowd, dragged them from the midst of the throng,
shook and cuffed them soundly, and then ordered them to stop their
yelling and oathing.
They slunk off cowed and beaten; but a number of the others broke out
with volleys of curses and threats and showed fight. At this, the other
men from my corner came forward, and the manœuvre was repeated on a
larger scale. This time I took care to punish my man severely; and when
we shoved them reeling away and looked for fresh ones, we looked in
vain.
They all backed away, huddled together like sheep frightened by the
dogs; and for the rest of the night there was no recurrence of the row.
We went back to our side and resumed guard over the women; half our
number crouched on the ground and the rest of us did sentry work.
The rowdies across the dividing line gave very little trouble after
that. There were occasional wranglings among themselves, as they fought
for room to crouch or lie down, or struggled for space to breathe;
but they had had their lesson and were careful not to provoke another
attack from us.
Many of them were soon fast in drunken sleep, as their stertorous
breathing and loud snoring evidenced. But contrasted with the din and
racket in the past hours, this was comparative peace and silence.
How any one could sleep under such conditions baffled me. The reek and
noisome stench of the place were appalling; and although I stood as
near as I could get to one of the windows, I was almost suffocated and
felt sick, stifled, and overpowered.
The women also slept, all but the two who watched over them and tended
them with the care and vigilance of tender-hearted womanhood. The
endurance of the young girl was as wonderful as her staunch courage and
her magnetic handling of her troubled sisters. She even outlasted the
big brawny woman who fell asleep soon after the dawn broke. The light
struggled through the windows, and the abject wretchedness and squalor
of the scene were infinitely more depressing and horrible in the light
than they had seemed in the feeble rays of the gas jets.
Only once did she show even a sign of breaking down. That was about two
hours after the dawn when she was near me and I asked her why she was a
prisoner and spoke in praise of her conduct.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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