The black, with the twisted hand of leprosy and with a barely perceptible
infiltration of the same disease thickening the skin of the forehead
between the eyes, bent over his polishing, and ever his lips moved,
repeating over and over, "Killeny Boy."
CHAPTER V
For a number of days Michael saw only Steward and Kwaque. This was
because he was confined to the steward's stateroom. Nobody else knew
that he was on board, and Dag Daughtry, thoroughly aware that he had
stolen a white man's dog, hoped to keep his presence secret and smuggle
him ashore when the _Makambo_ docked in Sydney.
Quickly the steward learned Michael's pre-eminent teachableness. In the
course of his careful feeding of him, he gave him an occasional chicken
bone. Two lessons, which would scarcely be called lessons, since both of
them occurred within five minutes and each was not over half a minute in
duration, sufficed to teach Michael that only on the floor of the room in
the corner nearest the door could he chew chicken bones. Thereafter,
without prompting, as a matter of course when handed a bone, he carried
it to the corner.
And why not? He had the wit to grasp what Steward desired of him; he had
the heart that made it a happiness for him to serve. Steward was a god
who was kind, who loved him with voice and lip, who loved him with touch
of hand, rub of nose, or enfolding arm. As all service flourishes in the
soil of love, so with Michael. Had Steward commanded him to forego the
chicken bone after it was in the corner, he would have served him by
foregoing. Which is the way of the dog, the only animal that will
cheerfully and gladly, with leaping body of joy, leave its food uneaten
in order to accompany or to serve its human master.
Practically all his waking time off duty, Dag Daughtry spent with the
imprisoned Michael, who, at command, had quickly learned to refrain from
whining and barking. And during these hours of companionship Michael
learned many things. Daughtry found that he already understood and
obeyed simple things such as "no," "yes," "get up," and "lie down," and
he improved on them, teaching him, "Go into the bunk and lie down," "Go
under the bunk," "Bring one shoe," "Bring two shoes." And almost without
any work at all, he taught him to roll over, to say his prayers, to play
dead, to sit up and smoke a pipe with a hat on his head, and not merely
to stand up on his hind legs but to walk on them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account