man, Captain; but I must stand by this nigger; he’s got no one else!’
And then he says--‘If you let me take him up to Lo Magundis, sir, I’m
not afraid; and I’ll tell the people there that it’s not their land and
their women that we want, it’s them to be our brothers and love us. If
you’ll only let me go, sir, I’ll go and make peace; give the man to me,
sir!’” The Colonial shook with laughter.
“What did the Captain say?” asked the Englishman.
“The Captain; well, you know the smallest thing sets him off swearing
all round the world; but he just stood there with his arms hanging down
at each side of him, and his eyes staring, and his face getting redder
and redder: and all he could say was, ‘My Gawd! my Gawd!’ I thought
he’d burst. And Halket stood there looking straight in front of him, as
though he didn’t see a soul of us all there.”
“What did the Captain do?”
“Oh, as soon as Halket turned away he started swearing, but he got the
tail of one oath hooked on to the head of another. It was nearly as good
as Halket himself. And when he’d finished and got sane a bit, he said
Halket was to walk up and down there all day and keep watch on the
nigger. And he gave orders that if the big troop didn’t come up tonight,
that he was to be potted first thing in the morning, and that Halket was
to shoot him.”
The Englishman started: “What did Halket say?”
“Nothing. He’s been walking there with his gun all day.”
The Englishman watched with his clear eyes the spot where Halket’s head
appeared and disappeared.
“Is the nigger hanging there now?”
“Yes. The Captain said no one was to go near him, or give him anything
to eat or drink all day: but--” The Colonial glanced round where the
trooper lay under the bushes; and then lowering his voice added, “This
morning, a couple of hours ago, Halket sent the Captain’s coloured boy
to ask me for a drink of water. I thought it was for Halket himself, and
the poor devil must be hot walking there in the sun, so I sent him the
water out of my canvas bag. I went along afterwards to see what had
become of my mug; the boy had gone, and there, straight in front of the
Captain’s tent, before the very door, was Halket letting that bloody
nigger drink out of my mug. The riem was so tight round his neck he
couldn’t drink but slowly, and there was Halket holding it up to him! If
the Captain had looked out! W-h-e-w! I wouldn’t have been Halket!”
“Do you think he will try to make Halket do it?” asked the Englishman.
“Of course he will. He’s the Devil in; and Halket had better not make a
fuss about it, or it’ll be the worse for him.”
“His time’s up tomorrow evening!”
“Yes, but not tomorrow morning. And I wouldn’t make a row about it if I
was Halket. It doesn’t do to fall out with the authorities here. What’s
one nigger more or less? He’ll get shot some other way, or die of
hunger, if we don’t do it.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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