CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
SHOWS THAT SUFFERING TENDS TO DRAW OUT SYMPATHY.
The word _captivity_, even when it refers to civilised lands andpeoples, conveys, we suspect, but a feeble and incorrect idea to theminds of those who have never been in a state of personal bondage.Still less do we fully appreciate its dread significance when it refersto foreign lands and barbarous people.
It was not so much the indignities to which the captive Britons weresubjected that told upon them ultimately, as the hard, grinding,restless toil, and the insufficient food and rest--sometimes accompaniedwith absolute corporeal pain.
"A merciful man is merciful to his beast." There is not much of mercyto his beast in an Arab. We have seen an Arab, in Algiers, who made useof a sore on his donkey's back as a sort of convenient spur! It isexhausting to belabour a thick-skinned and obstinate animal with astick. It is much easier, and much more effective, to tickle up a sore,kept open for the purpose, with a little bit of stick, while comfortablyseated on the creature's back. The fellow we refer to did that. We donot say or think that all Arabs are cruel; very far from it, but we holdthat, as a race, they are so. Their great prophet taught them crueltyby example and precept, and the records of history, as well as of theAfrican slave-trade, bear witness to the fact that their "tendermercies" are not and never have been conspicuous!
At first, as we have shown, indignities told pretty severely on theunfortunate Englishmen. But, as time went on, and they were takenfurther and further into the interior, and heavy burdens were dailybound on their shoulders, and the lash was frequently applied to urgethem on, the keen sense of insult which had at first stirred them intowild anger became blunted, and at last they reached that condition ofpartial apathy which renders men almost indifferent to everything saverest and food. Even the submissive Stevenson was growing callous. Inshort, that process had begun which usually ends in making men eitherbrutes or martyrs.
As before, we must remark that Jack Molloy was to some extent anexception. It did seem as if nothing but death itself could subdue thatremarkable man. His huge frame was so powerful that he seemed to becapable of sustaining any weight his tyrants chose to put upon him. Andthe influence of hope was so strong within him that it raised him almostentirely above the region of despondency.
This was fortunate for his comrades in misfortune, for it served to keepup their less vigorous spirits.
There was one thing about the seaman, however, which they could notquite reconcile with his known character. This was a tendency to groanheavily when he was being loaded. To be sure, there was not much reasonfor wonder, seeing that the Arabs forced the Herculean man to carrynearly double the weight borne by any of his companions, but then, asMiles once confidentially remarked to Armstrong, "I thought that JackMolloy would rather have died than have groaned on account of the weightof his burden; but, after all, it _is_ a tremendously heavy one--poorfellow!"
One day the Arabs seemed to be filled with an unusual desire to tormenttheir victims. A man had passed the band that day on a fast dromedary,and the prisoners conjectured that he might have brought news of somedefeat of their friends, which would account for their increasedcruelty. They were particularly hard on Molloy that day, as if theyregarded him as typical of British strength, and, therefore, anappropriate object of revenge. After the midday rest, they not only puton him his ordinary burden, but added to the enormous weightconsiderably, so that the poor fellow staggered under it, and finallyfell down beneath it, with a very dismal groan indeed!
Of course the lash was at once applied, and under its influence thesailor rose with great difficulty, and staggered forward a few paces,but only to fall again. This time, however, he did not wait for thelash, but made very determined efforts of his own accord to rise andadvance, without showing the smallest sign of resentment. Even hiscaptors seemed touched, for one of them removed a small portion of hisburden, so that, thereafter, the poor fellow proceeded with lessdifficulty, though still with a little staggering and an occasionalgroan.
That night they reached a village near the banks of a broad river, wherethey put up for the night. After their usual not too heavy supper wasover, the prisoners were thrust into a sort of hut or cattle-shed, andleft to make themselves as comfortable as they could on the bare floor.
"I don't feel quite so much inclined for sleep to-night," said Miles toMolloy.
"No more do I," remarked the sailor, stretching himself like a weariedGoliath on the earthen floor, and placing his arms under his head for apillow.
"I feel pretty well used up too," said Simkin, throwing himself downwith a sigh that was more eloquent than his tongue. He was indeedanything but Rattling Bill by that time.
Moses Pyne being, like his great namesake, a meek man, sympathised withthe others, but said nothing about himself, though his looks betrayedhim. Armstrong and Stevenson were silent. They seemed too muchexhausted to indulge in speech.
"Poor fellow!" said Moses to Molloy, "I don't wonder you are tired, foryou not only carried twice as much as any of us, but you took part of_my_ load. Indeed he did, comrades," added Moses, turning to hisfriends with an apologetic air. "I didn't want him to do it, but hejerked part o' my load suddenly out o' my hand an' wouldn't give it upagain; an', you know, I didn't dare to make a row, for that would havebrought the lash down on both of us. But I didn't want him to carry somuch, an' him so tired."
"Tired!" exclaimed the sailor, with a loud laugh. "Why, I warn't tireda bit. An', you know, you'd have dropped down, Moses, if I hadn'thelped ye at that time."
"Well, I confess I _was_ ready to drop," returned Moses, with a humbledlook; "but I would much rather have dropped than have added to yourburden. How can you say you wasn't tired when you had fallen down onlyfive minutes before, an' groaned heavily when you rose, and your legstrembled so? I could _see_ it!"
To this the seaman's only reply was the expansion of his huge buthandsome mouth, the display of magnificent teeth, the disappearance ofboth eyes, and a prolonged quiet chuckle.
"Why, what's the matter with you, Jack?" asked Stevenson.
"Nothin's the matter wi' me, old man--'cept--"
Here he indulged in another chuckle.
"Goin' mad, with over-fatigue," said Simkin, looking suspiciously athim.
"Ay, that's it, messmate, clean mad wi' over-fatigue."
He wiped his eyes with the hairy back of his hand, for the chuckling,being hearty, had produced a few tears.
"No, but really, Jack, what is it you're laughing at?" asked Armstrong."If there _is_ a joke you might as well let us have the benefit oflaughing along wi' you, for we stand much in need of something to cheerus here."
"Well, Billy boy, I may as well make a clean breast of it," said Molloy,raising himself on one elbow and becoming grave. "I do confess tofeelin' raither ashamed o' myself, but you mustn't be hard on me, lads,for circumstances alters cases, you know, as Solomon said--leastwise ifit warn't him it was Job or somebody else. The fact is, I've binshammin', mates!"
"Shamming!"
"Ay, shammin' _weak_. Purtendin' that I was shaky on the legs, an' sonot quite up to the cargo they were puttin' aboard o' me."
"If what you've been doing means shamming _weak_, I'd like to see youcoming out _strong_," observed Miles, with a short laugh.
"Well, p'r'aps you'll see that too some day," returned the sailor, withan amiable look.
"But do you really mean that all that groaning--which I confess to havebeen surprised at--was mere pretence?"
"All sham. Downright sneakin'!" said Molloy. "The short an' the longof it is, that I see'd from the first the on'y way to humbug themyellow-faced baboons was to circumwent 'em. So I set to work at thewery beginnin'."
"Ah, by takin' a header," said Simkin, "into one o' theirbread-baskets!"
"No, no!" returned the seaman, "that, I confess, was a mistake. Butyou'll admit, I've made no more mistakes o' the same sort since then.You see, I perceived that, as my strength is
considerable above theaverage, the baboons would be likely to overload me, so, arter profoundexcogitation wi' myself, I made up my mind what to do, an' when they hadclapped on a little more than the rest o' you carried I began to groan,then I began to shake a bit in my timbers, an' look as if I was agoin'to founder. It didn't check 'em much, for they're awful cruel, so Iwent fairly down by the head. I had a pretty fair guess that this wouldbring the lash about my shoulders, an' I was right, but I got up weryslowly an' broken-down-like, so that the baboons was fairly humbugged,and stopped loadin' of me long afore I'd taken in a full cargo--so, yousee, boys, I've bin sailin' raither light than otherwise."
"But do you mean to tell me that the load you've bin carryin' is not tooheavy for you?" asked Moses.
"That's just what I does mean to tell you, lad. I could carry a gooddeal more, an' dance with it. You see, they ain't used to men o' mysize, so I was able to humbug 'em into a miscalkilation. I on'y wish Icould have helped you all to do the same, but they're too 'cute, as theYankees say. Anyway, Moses, you don't need to trouble your head when Igives you a helpin' hand again."
"Ah, that expression, `a helping hand,' sounds familiar in my ears,"said Stevenson, in a sad tone.
"Yes, what do it recall, lad?" asked Molloy, extending himself again onhis broad back.
"It recalls places and friends in Portsmouth, Jack, that we may neveragain set eyes on. You remember the Institoot? Well, they've got a newbranch o' the work there for the surrounding civilian poor, called the_Helping Hand_. You see, Miss Robinson understands us soldiers out andout. She knew that those among us who gave up drink and sin, and put onthe blue-ribbon, were not goin' to keep all the benefit to ourselves.She knew that we understood the meaning of the word `enlist' That we'dthink very little o' the poor-spirited fellow who'd take the Queen'sshillin' and put on her uniform, and then shirk fightin' her battles andhonouring her flag. So when some of us put on the Lord's uniform--which, like that of the Austrians, is white--and unfurled His flag, sheknew we'd soon be wantin' to fight His battles against sin--especiallyagainst drink; so instead of lookin' after our welfare alone, sheencouraged us to hold out a _helpin' hand_ to the poorest and mostmiserable people in Portsmouth, an' she found us ready to answer to thecall."
"Ah, they was grand times, these," continued the marine, with kindlyenthusiasm, as he observed that his comrades in sorrow were becominginterested, and forgetting for the moment their own sorrows andsufferings. "The Blue-Ribbon move was strong in Portsmouth at the time,and many of the soldiers and sailors joined it. Some time after we hadheld out a helping hand to the poor civilians, we took it into our headsto invite some of 'em to a grand tea-fight in the big hall, so we askeda lot o' the poorest who had faithfully kept the pledge through theirfirst teetotal Christmas; and it _was_ a scrimmage, I can tell you. Wegot together more than forty of 'em, men and women, and there were aboutthree hundred soldiers and sailors, and their wives to wait on 'em an'keep 'em company!"
"Capital!" exclaimed Miles, who had a sympathetic spirit--especially forthe poor.
"Good--good!" said Molloy, nodding his head. "That was the right thingto do, an' I suppose they enjoyed theirselves?"
"Enjoyed themselves!" exclaimed the marine, with a laugh. "I shouldjust think they did. Trust Miss Robinson for knowin' how to make poorfolk enjoy themselves--and, for the matter of that, rich folk too! Howthey did stuff, to be sure! Many of 'em, poor things, hadn't got such ablow-out in all their lives before. You see, they was the very poorestof the poor. You may believe what I say, for I went round myself withone o' the Institoot ladies to invite 'em, and I do declare to you thatI never saw even pigs or dogs in such a state of destitootion--nothin'whatever to lie on but the bare boards."
"You don't say so?" murmured Moses, with deep commiseration, andseemingly oblivious of the fact that he was himself pretty much insimilar destitution at that moment.
"Indeed I do. Look here," continued the marine, becoming more earnestas he went on; "thousands of people don't know--can't understand--whatmisery and want and suffering is going on around 'em. City missionariesand the like tell 'em about it, and write about it, but telling andwritin' _don't_ make people _know_ some things. They must _see_, ay,sometimes they must _feel_, before they can rightly understand.
"One of the rooms we visited," continued Stevenson, in pathetic tones,"belonged to a poor old couple who had been great drinkers, but had beeninduced to put on the blue-ribbon. It was a pigeon-hole of a room,narrow, up a dark stair. They had no means of support. The room wasempty. Everything had been pawned. The last thing given up was thewoman's shawl to pay the rent, and they were starving."
"Why didn't they go to the work'us?" asked Simkin.
"'Cause the workhouse separates man and wife, in defiance of the Divinelaw--`Whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.' They wasfond of each other, was that old man and woman, and had lived longtogether, an' didn't want to part till death. So they had managed tostick to the old home, ay, and they had stuck to their colours, for thebit o' blue was still pinned to the tattered coat o' the man and thethin gown o' the woman, (neither coat nor gown would fetch anything atthe pawn-shop!) and there was no smell o' drink in the room. Well, thatold couple went to the tea-fight. It was a bitter cold night, but theycame all the same, with nothing to cover the woman's thin old arms.
"The moment they appeared, away went one o' Miss Robinson's workers tothe room where they keep chests full of clothes sent by charitable folkto the Institoot, an' you should have seen that old woman's wrinkledface when the worker returned wi' the thickest worsted shawl she couldlay hold of, an' put it on her shoulders as tenderly as if the old womanhad been her own mother! At the same time they gave a big-coat to theold man."
"But, I say," interrupted Simkin, "that Christmas feed an' shawl an'coat wouldn't keep the couple for a twel'month, if they was sent home tostarve as before, would it?"
"Of course not," returned the marine, "but they wasn't sent off tostarve; they was looked after. Ay, an' the people o' the wholeneighbourhood are now looked after, for Miss Robinson has bought up agrog-shop in Nobbs Lane--one o' the worst places in Portsmouth--an'converted it into a temperance coffee-house, wi' lots of beds to sendpeople to when the Institoot overflows, an' a soup-kitchen for thedestitoot poor, an' a wash'us for them and the soldiers' wives, an', inshort, it has changed the whole place; but if I go on like this I'llsend Moses to sleep, for I've heard 'im smotherin' his yawns more thanonce a'ready!"
"It's not for want of interest in what you're sayin' though, old man,"returned Moses, with a tremendous unsmothered yawn, which of course setall his comrades off, and confirmed them in the belief that it was timeto seek repose.
Scarcely a single comment was made on the narrative, as each laid hisweary head on his arm or on a folded garment, and stretched himself outon the hard ground, in nearly as destitute a condition as the poor folk,about whom they had been hearing; for while their bed was as hard astheirs, and the covering as scant, the meal they had recently consumedwas by no means what hungry men would call satisfying.
There is reason to believe, however, that their consideration of the sadlot of "the poor" at home did not render less profound or sweet thatnight's repose in the great African wilderness.