Manners and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, English
"Good-bye, and good luck," said William. "I'm awfully obliged for
the money." She turned on a spurred heel and disappeared into
the tent, while the carts pushed on past the famine-sheds, past
the roaring lines of the thick, fat fires, down to the baked
Gehenna of the South.
End of "WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR - PART I"
WILLIAM THE CONQUERER
PART II
So let us melt and make no noise, No tear-floods nor
sigh-tempests move; 'Twere profanation of our joys to tell the
Laity our love. A Valediction.
It was punishing work, even though he travelled by night and
camped by day; but within the limits of his vision there was no
man whom Scott could call master. He was as free as Jimmy
Hawkins - freer, in fact, for the Government held the Head of
the Famine tied neatly to a telegraph-wire, and if Jimmy had ever
regarded telegrams seriously, the death-rate of that famine
would have been much higher than it was.
At the end of a few days' crawling Scott learned something of the
size of the India which he served, and it astonished him. His
carts, as you know, were loaded with wheat, millet, and barley,
good food-grains needing only a little grinding. But the people
to whom he brought the life-giving stuffs were rice-eaters. They
could hull rice in their mortars, but they knew nothing of the
heavy stone querns of the North, and less of the material that
the white man convoyed so laboriously. They clamoured for rice -
unhusked paddy, such as they were accustomed to - and, when they
found that there was none, broke away weeping from the sides of
the cart. What was the use of these strange hard grains that
choked their throats? They would die. And then and there very
many of them kept their word. Others took their allowance, and
bartered enough millet to feed a man through a week for a few
handfuls of rotten rice saved by some less unfortunate. A few put
their share into the rice-mortars, pounded it, and made a paste
with foul water; but they were very few. Scott understood dimly
that many people in the India of the South ate rice, as a rule,
but he had spent his service in a grain Province, had seldom seen
rice in the blade or ear, and least of all would have believed
that in time of deadly need men could die at arm's length of
plenty, sooner than touch food they did not know. In vain the
interpreters interpreted; in vain his two policemen showed in
vigorous pantomime what should be done. The starving crept away
to their bark and weeds, grubs, leaves, and clay, and left the
open sacks untouched. But sometimes the women laid their phantoms
of children at Scott's feet, looking back as they staggered away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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