Life's Handicap: Being Stories of Mine Own PeopleKipling, Rudyard
History
Life's Handicap: Being Stories of Mine Own People
Kipling, Rudyard
India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction; India -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, English
‘I’m askin’ you to warehouse ut,’ said Mulvaney when he was brought to
consider the question. ‘There’s no steal in ut. Dearsley tould us we cud
have ut if we fought. Jock fought--an’, oh, sorr, when the throuble
was at uts finest an’ Jock was bleedin’ like a stuck pig, an’ little
Orth’ris was shquealin’ on one leg chewin’ big bites out av Dearsley’s
watch, I wud ha’ given my place at the fight to have had you see wan
round. He tuk Jock, as I suspicioned he would, an’ Jock was deceptive.
Nine roun’s they were even matched, an’ at the tenth--About that
palanquin now. There’s not the least throuble in the world, or we wud
not ha’ brought ut here. You will ondherstand that the Queen--God
bless her!--does not reckon for a privit soldier to kape elephints an’
palanquins an’ sich in barricks. Afther we had dhragged ut down from
Dearsley’s through that cruel scrub that near broke Orth’ris’s heart,
we set ut in the ravine for a night; an’ a thief av a porcupine an’ a
civet-cat av a jackal roosted in ut, as well we knew in the mornin’. I
put ut to you, sorr, is an elegint palanquin, fit for the princess, the
natural abidin’ place av all the vermin in cantonmints? We brought ut
to you, afther dhark, and put ut in your shtable. Do not let
your conscience prick. Think av the rejoicin’ men in the pay-shed
yonder--lookin’ at Dearsley wid his head tied up in a towel--an’ well
knowin’ that they can dhraw their pay ivry month widout stoppages for
riffles. Indirectly, sorr, you have rescued from an onprincipled son av
a night-hawk the peasanthry av a numerous village. An’ besides, will I
let that sedan-chair rot on our hands? Not I. ‘Tis not every day a piece
av pure joolry comes into the market. There’s not a king widin these
forty miles’--he waved his hand round the dusty horizon--‘not a king wud
not be glad to buy ut. Some day meself, whin I have leisure, I’ll take
ut up along the road an’ dishpose av ut.’
‘How?’ said I, for I knew the man was capable of anything.
‘Get into ut, av coorse, and keep wan eye open through the curtains.
Whin I see a likely man av the native persuasion, I will descind
blushin’ from my canopy and say, “Buy a palanquin, ye black scutt?”
I will have to hire four men to carry me first, though; and that’s
impossible till next pay-day.’
Curiously enough, Learoyd, who had fought for the prize, and in
the winning secured the highest pleasure life had to offer him, was
altogether disposed to undervalue it, while Ortheris openly said it
would be better to break the thing up. Dearsley, he argued, might be a
many-sided man, capable, despite his magnificent fighting qualities, of
setting in motion the machinery of the civil law--a thing much abhorred
by the soldier. Under any circumstances their fun had come and passed;
the next pay-day was close at hand, when there would be beer for all.
Wherefore longer conserve the painted palanquin?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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