Rudyard Kipling : The Complete Novels and Stories. Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг

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СКАЧАТЬ want to go there—buried within two feet of some one else, his wife and his family.’

      ‘Allah forbid! I shall get away before that time comes. Give a man room to stretch his legs, Mr. Binkie.’ Dick flung himself down on the sofa and tweaked Binkie’s velvet ears, yawning heavily the while.

      ‘You’ll find that wardrobe-case very much out of tune,’ Torpenhow said to the Nilghai. ‘It’s never touched except by you.’

      ‘A piece of gross extravagance,’ Dick grunted. ‘The Nilghai only comes when I’m out.’

      ‘That’s because you’re always out. Howl, Nilghai, and let him hear.’

      ‘The life of the Nilghai is fraud and slaughter,

      His writings are watered Dickens and water;

      But the voice of the Nilghai raised on high

      Makes even the Mahdieh glad to die!’

      Dick quoted from Torpenhow’s letterpress in the Nungapunga Book. ‘How do they call moose in Canada, Nilghai?’

      The man laughed. Singing was his one polite accomplishment, as many Press-tents in far-off lands had known.

      ‘What shall I sing?’ said he, turning in the chair.

      ‘“Moll Roe in the Morning,”’ said Torpenhow, at a venture.

      ‘No,’ said Dick, sharply, and the Nilghai opened his eyes. The old chanty whereof he, among a very few, possessed all the words was not a pretty one, but Dick had heard it many times before without wincing. Without prelude he launched into that stately tune that calls together and troubles the hearts of the gipsies of the sea—

      ‘Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies,

      Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain.’

      Dick turned uneasily on the sofa, for he could hear the bows of the Barralong crashing into the green seas on her way to the Southern Cross. Then came the chorus—

      ‘We’ll rant and we’ll roar like true British sailors,

      We’ll rant and we’ll roar across the salt seas,

      Until we take soundings in the Channel of Old England

      From Ushant to Scilly ’tis forty-five leagues.’

      ‘Thirty-five-thirty-five,’ said Dick, petulantly. ‘Don’t tamper with Holy Writ. Go on, Nilghai.’

      ‘The first land we made it was called the Deadman,’

      and they sang to the end very vigourously.

      ‘That would be a better song if her head were turned the other way—to the Ushant light, for instance,’ said the Nilghai.

      ‘Flinging his arms about like a mad windmill,’ said Torpenhow. ‘Give us something else, Nilghai. You’re in fine fog-horn form tonight.’

      ‘Give us the “Ganges Pilot”; you sang that in the square the night before El-Maghrib. By the way, I wonder how many of the chorus are alive to-night,’ said Dick.

      Torpenhow considered for a minute. ‘By Jove! I believe only you and I. Raynor, Vicery, and Deenes—all dead; Vincent caught smallpox in Cairo, carried it here and died of it. Yes, only you and I and the Nilghai.’

      ‘Umph! And yet the men here who’ve done their work in a well-warmed studio all their lives, with a policeman at each corner, say that I charge too much for my pictures.’

      ‘They are buying your work, not your insurance policies, dear child,’ said the Nilghai.

      ‘I gambled with one to get at the other. Don’t preach. Go on with the “Pilot.” Where in the world did you get that song?’

      ‘On a tombstone,’ said the Nilghai. ‘On a tombstone in a distant land. I made it an accompaniment with heaps of base chords.’

      ‘Oh, Vanity! Begin.’ And the Nilghai began—

      ‘I have slipped my cable, messmates, I’m drifting down with the tide,

      I have my sailing orders, while yet an anchor ride.

      And never on fair June morning have I put out to sea

      With clearer conscience or better hope, or a heart more light and free.

      ‘Shoulder to shoulder, Joe, my boy, into the crowd like a wedge

      Strike with the hangers, messmates, but do not cut with the edge.

      Cries Charnock, “Scatter the faggots, double that Brahmin in two,

      The tall pale widow for me, Joe, the little brown girl for you!”

      ‘Young Joe (you’re nearing sixty), why is your hide so dark?

      Katie has soft fair blue eyes, who blackened yours?—Why, hark!’

      They were all singing now, Dick with the roar of the wind of the open sea about his ears as the deep bass voice let itself go.

      ‘The morning gun—Ho, steady! the arquebuses to me!, The

      I ha’ sounded the Dutch High Admiral’s heart as my lead doth sound the sea.

      ‘Sounding, sounding the Ganges, floating down with the tide,

      Moore me close to Charnock, next to my nut-brown bride.

      My blessing to Kate at Fairlight—Holwell, my thanks to you;

      Steady! We steer for heaven, through sand-drifts cold and blue.’

      ‘Now what is there in that nonsense to make a man restless?’ said Dick, hauling Binkie from his feet to his chest.

      ‘It depends on the man,’ said Torpenhow.

      ‘The man who has been down to look at the sea,’ said the Nilghai.

      ‘I didn’t know she was going to upset me in this fashion.’

      ‘That’s what men say when they go to say good-bye to a woman. It’s more easy though to get rid of three women than a piece of one’s life and surroundings.’

      ‘But a woman can be——’ began Dick, unguardedly.

      ‘A piece of one’s life,’ continued Torpenhow. ‘No, she can’t.’ His face darkened for a moment. ‘She says she wants to sympathise with you and help you in your work, and everything else that clearly a man must do for himself. Then she sends round five notes a day to ask why the dickens you haven’t been wasting your time with her.’

      ‘Don’t generalise,’ said the Nilghai. ‘By the time you arrive at five notes a day you must have gone through a good deal СКАЧАТЬ