Book: The Works of Rudyard Kipling One Volume Edition

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MRS. G. (Coming down veranda.) What are you wagging your
head ove; Pip?

CAPT. M. (Turning quickly.) Me, as usual. The old sermon. Your
husband is recommending me to get married. 'Never saw such a
one-ideaed man.

MRS. G. Well, why don't you? I dare say you would make some
woman very happy.

CAPT. G. There's the Law and the Prophets, Jack. Never mind the
Regiment. Make a woman happy. (Aside.) O Lord!

CAPT. M. We'll see. I must be off to make a Troop Cook
desperately unhappy. I won't have the wily Hussar fed on
Government Bullock Train shinbones- (Hastily.) Surely black ants
can't be good for The Brigadier. He's picking em off the matting
and eating 'em. Here, Senor Comandante Don Grubbynuse, come
and talk to me. (Lifts G. JUNIOR in his arms.) 'Want my watch?
You won't be able to put it into your mouth, but you can try. (G.
JUNIOR drops watch, breaking dial and hands.)

MRS. G. Oh, Captain Mafflin, I am so sorry! Jack, you bad, bad
little villain. Ahhh!

CAPT. M. It's not the least consequence, I assure you. He'd treat
the world in the same way if he could get it into his hands.
Everything's made to be played, with and broken, isn't it, young
'un?

* * * * * *

MRS. G. Mafflin didn't at all like his watch being broken, though
he was too polite to say so. It was entirely his fault for giving it to
the child. Dem little puds are werry, werry feeble, aren't dey, by
Jack-in-de-box? (To G.) What did he want to see you for?

CAPT. G. Regimental shop as usual.

MRS. G. The Regiment! Always the Regiment. On my word, I
sometimes feel jealous of Mafflin.

CAPT. G. (Wearily.) Poor old Jack? I don't think you need. Isn't it
time for The Butcha to have his nap? Bring a chair out here, dear.
I've got some thing to talk over with you.

AND THIS IS THE END OF THE STORY OF THE GADSBYS

VOLUME VIII from MINE OWN PEOPLE

Bimi
Namgay Doola
The Recrudescence Of Imray
Moti Guj-Mutineer

BIMI

THE orang-outang in the big iron cage lashed to the sheep-pen
began the discussion. The night was stiflingly hot, and as Hans
Breitmann and I passed him, dragging our bedding to the fore-peak
of the steamer, he roused himself and chattered obscenely. He
had been caught somewhere in the Malayan Archipelago, and was
going to England to be exhibited at a shilling a head. For four days
he had struggled, yelled, and wrenched at the heavy iron bars of
his prison without ceasing, and had nearly slain a Lascar
incautious enough to come within reach of the great hairy paw.

"It would he well for you, mine friend, if you was a liddle seasick,"
said Hans Breitmann, pausing by the cage. "You haf too much
Ego in your Cosmos."

The orang-outang's arm slid out negligently from between the
bars. No one would have believed that it would make a sudden
snake-like rush at the German's breast. The thin silk of the
sleeping-suit tore out: Hans stepped back unconcernedly, to pluck
a banana from a bunch hanging close to one of the boats.

"Too much Ego," said be, peeling the fruit and offering it to the
caged devil, who was rending the silk to tatters.

Then we laid out our bedding in the bows, among the sleeping
Lascars, to catch any breeze that the pace of the ship might give us.
The sea was like smoky oil., except where it turned to fire under
our forefoot and Whirled back into the dark in smears of dull
flame. There was a thunderstorm some miles away: we could
see the glimmer of the lightning. The ship's cow, distressed by the
heat and the smell of the ape-beast in the cage, lowed unhappily
from time to time in exactly the same key as the lookout man at
the bows answered the hourly call from the bridge. The trampling
tune of the engines was very distinct, and the jarring of the ash-lift,
as it was tipped into the sea, hurt the procession of hushed noise.
Hans lay down by my side and lighted a good-night cigar. This was
naturally the beginning of conversation. He owned a voice as
soothing as the wash of the sea, and stores of experiences as vast
as the sea itself; for his business in life was to wander up and down
the world, collecting orchids and wild beasts and ethnological
specimens for German and American dealers. I watched the
glowing end of his cigar wax and wane in the gloom, as the
sentences rose and fell, till I was nearly asleep. The orang-outang,
troubled by some dream of the forests of his freedom, began to yell
like a soul in purgatory, and to wrench madly at the bars of the
cage.

"If he was out now dere would not be much of us left hereabouts,"
said Hans, lazily. "He screams good. See, now, how I shall tame
him when he stops himself."

There was a pause in the outcry, and from Hans' mouth came an
imitation of a snake's hiss, so perfect that I almost sprung to my
feet. The sustained murderous sound ran along the deck, and the
wrenching at the bars ceased. The orang-outang was quaking in an
ecstasy of pure terror.

"Dot stop him," said Hans. "I learned dot trick in Mogoung
Tanjong when I was collecting liddle monkeys for some peoples in
Berlin. Efery one in der world is afraid of der monkeys except der
snake. So I blay snake against monkey, and he keep quite still.
Dere was too much Ego in his Cosmos. Dot is der soul-custom of
monkeys. Are you asleep, or will you listen, and I will tell a dale
dot you shall not pelief?"

"There's no tale in the wide world that I can't believe," I said.

"If you have learned pelief you haf learned somedings. Now I
shall try your pelief. Good! When I was collecting dose liddle
monkeys-it was in '79 or '80, und I was in der islands of der
Archipelago-over dere in der dark"-he pointed southward to New
Guinea generally-"Mein Gott! I would sooner collect life red
devils than liddle monkeys. When dey do not bite off your thumbs
dey are always dying from nostalgia-homesick-for dey haf der
imperfect soul, which is midway arrested in defelopment-und too
much Ego. I was dere for nearly a year, und dere I found a man dot
was called Bertran. He was a Frenchman, und he was a goot
man-naturalist to the bone. Dey said he was an escaped convict,
but he was a naturalist, und dot was enough for me. He would call
all her life beasts from der forests, und dey would come. I said he
was St. Francis of Assisi in a new dransmigration produced, und he
laughed und said he hal never preach to der fishes. He sold dem
for tripang-beche-de-mer.

"Und dot man, who was king of beasts-tamer men, he had in der
house shush such anoder as dot devil-animal in der cage-a great
orang-outang dot thought he was a man. He haf found him when
he was a child-der orang-outang-und he was child and brother and
opera comique all round to Bertran. He had his room in dot
house-not a cage, but a room-mit a bed and sheets, and he would
go to bed and get up in der morning and smoke his cigar und eat
his dinner mit Bertran, und walk mit him hand-in-hand, which.
was most horrible. Herr Gott! I haf seen dot beast throw himself
back in his chair and laugh when Bertran haf made fun of me. He
was not a beast; he was a man, and he talked to Bertran, und
Bertran comprehended, for I bave seen dem. Und he was always
politeful to me except when I talk too long to Bertran und say
nodings at all to him. Den he would pull me away-dis great, dark
devil, mit his enormous paws~hush as if I was a child. He was not
a beast, he was a man. Dis I saw pefore I know him three months,
und Bertran he haf saw the same; and Bimi, der orang-outang, baf
understood us both, mit his cigar between his big-dog teeth und der
blue gum.

"I was dere a year, dere und at dere oder islands-somedimes for
monkeys and somedimes for butterflies und orchits. One time
Bertran says to me dot he will be married, because he ha~ found a
girl dot was goot, and he inquire if this marrying idea was right. I
would not say, pecause it was not me dot was going to be married.
Den he go off courting der girl-she was a half-caste French girl-
very pretty. Haf you got a new light for my cigar? Oof! Very
pretty. Only I say 'Haf you thought of Bimi? If he pulls me away
when I talk to you, what will he do to your wife? He will pull her
in pieces. If I was you, Bertran, I would gif my wife for wedding
present der stuff figure of Bimi.' By dot time I bad learned
somedings about der monkey peoples. 'Shoot him?' says Bertran.
'He is your beast,' I said; 'if he was mine he would be shot now.'

"Den I felt at der back of my neck der fingers of Bimi. Mein
Gott! I tell you dot he talked through dose fingers. It was der
deaf-and-dumb alphabet all gomplete. He slide his hairy arm round
my neck, and he tilt up my chin and look into my face, shust to see
if I understood his talk so well as he understood mine.

"'See now dere!' says Bertran, 'und you would shoot him while he
is cuddling you? Dot is der Teuton ingrate!'

"But I knew dot I had made Bimi a life's enemy, pecause his
fingers haf talk murder through the back of my neck. Next dime I
see Bimi dere was a pistol in my belt, und he touch it once, and I
open de breech to show him it was loaded. He haf seen der liddle
monkeys killed in der woods, and he understood.

"So Bertran he was married, and he forgot clean about Bimi dot
was skippin' alone on the beach mit der haf of a human soul in his
belly. I was see him skip, und he took a big bough und thrash der
sand till he haf made a great hole like a grave. So I says to Bertran
'For any sakes, kill Bimi. He is mad mit der jealousy.'

"Bertran haf said: 'He is not mad at all. He haf obey and love my
wife, und if she speaks he wall get her slippers,' und he looked at
his wife across der room. She was a very pretty girl.

"Den I said to him: 'Dost thou pretend to know monkeys und dis
beast dot is lashing himself mad upon der sands, pecause you do
not talk to him? Shoot him when he comes to der house, for he haf
der light in his eyes dot means killing-und killing.' Bimi come to
der house, but dere was no light in his eyes. It was all put away,
cunning -so cunning-und he fetch der girl her slippers, and Bertran
turn to me und say: 'Dost thou know him in nine months more dan
I haf known him n twelve years? Shall a child stab his fader? I
have fed him, und he was my child. Do not speak this nonsense to
my wife or to me any more.'

"Dot next day Bertran came to my house to help me make some
wood cases for der specimens, und he tell me dot he haf left his
wife a liddle while mit Bimi in der garden. Den I finish my cases
quick, und I say: 'Let us go to your house und get a trink.' He laugh
und say: 'Come along, dry mans.'

"His wife was not in der garden, und Bimi did not come when
Bertran called. Und his wife did not come when he called, und he
knocked at her bedroom door und dot was shut tight-locked. Den
he looked at me, und his face was white. I broke down der door
mit my shoulder, und der thatch of der roof was torn into a great
hole, und der sun came in upon der floor. Haf you ever seen paper
in der waste-basket, or cards at whist on der table scattered? Dere
was no wife dot could be seen. I tell you dere was noddings in dot
room dot might be a woman. Dere was stuff on der floor, und dot
was all. I looked at dese things und I was very sick; but Bertran
looked a little longer at what was upon the floor und der walls, und
der hole in der thatch. Den he pegan to laugh, soft and low, und I
know und thank God dot he was mad. He nefer cried, he nefer
prayed. He stood still in der doorway und laugh to him-self. Den
he said: 'She haf locked herself in dis room, and he haf torn up der
thatch. Fi donc. Dot is so. We will mend der thatch und wait for
Bimi. He will surely come.'

"I tell you we waited ten days in dot house, after der room was
made into a room again, and once or twice we saw Bimi comm' a
liddle way from der woods. He was afraid pecause he haf done
wrong. Bertran called him when he was come to look on the tenth
day, und Bimi come skipping along der beach und making noises,
mit a long piece of Nack hair in his hands. Den Bertran laugh and
say, 'Fi dond' shust as if it was a glass broken upon der table; und
Bimi come nearer, und Bertran was honey-sweet in his voice and
laughed to himself. For three days he made love to Bimi, pecause
Bimi would not let himself be touched Den Bimi come to dinner
at der same table mit us, und der hair on his hands was all black
und thick mit-mit what had dried on his hands. Bertran gave him
sangaree till Bimi was drunk and stupid, und den-"

Hans paused to puff at his cigar.

"And then?" said I.

"Und den Bertran kill him with his hands, und I go for a walk
upon der heach. It was Bertran's own piziness. When I come back
der ape he was dead, und Bertran he was dying abofe him; but still
he laughed a liddle und low, and he was quite content. Now you
know der formula uf der strength of der orang-outang-it is more as
seven to one in relation to man. But Bertran, he haf killed Bimi mit
sooch dings as Gott gif him. Dot was der mericle."

The infernal clamor in the cage recommenced. "Aba! Dot friend of
ours haf still too much Ego in his Cosmos, Be quiet, thou!"

Hans hissed long and venomously. We could hear the great beast
quaking in his cage.

"But why in the world didn't you help Bertran instead of letting
him be killed?" I asked.

"My friend," said Hans, composedly stretching himself to slumber,
"it was not nice even to mineself dot I should lif after I had seen
dot room wit der hole in der thatch. Und Bertran, he was her
husband. Good-night, und sleep well,"

NAMGAY DOOLA

ONCE upon a time there was a king who lived on the road to
Thibet, very many miles in the Himalaya Mountains. His kingdom
was 11,000 feet above the sea, and exactly four miles square, but
most of the miles stood on end, owing to the nature of the country.
His revenues were rather less than 400 pounds yearly, and they
were expended on the maintenance of one elephant and a standing
army of five men. He was tributary to the Indian government, who
allowed him certain sums for keeping a section of the Himalaya-
Thibet road in repair. He further increased his revenues by selling
timber to the railway companies, for he would cut the great deodar
trees in his own forest arid they fell thundering into the Sutlej
River and were swept down to the Plains, 300 miles away, and
became railway ties. Now and again this king, whose name does
not matter, would mount a ring-streaked horse and ride scores of
miles to Simlatown to confer with the lieutenant-governor on
matters of state, or assure the viceroy that his sword was at the
service of the queen-empress. Then the viceroy would cause a
ruffle of drums to be sounded and the ring-streaked horse and the
cavalry of the state-two men in tatters-and the herald who bore the
Silver Stick before the king would trot back to their own place,
which was between the tail of a heaven-climbing glacier and a
dark birch forest.

Now, from such a king, always remembering that he possessed one
veritable elephant and could count his descent for 1,200 years, I
expected, when it was my fate to wander through his dominions,
no more than mere license to live.

The night had closed in rain, and rolling clouds blotted out the
lights of the villages in the valley. Forty miles away, untouched
by cloud or storm, the white shoulder of Dongo Pa-the Mountain
of the Council of the Gods-upheld the evening star. The monkeys
sung sorrowfully to each other as they hunted for dry roots in the
fern-draped trees, and the last puff of the day-wind brought from
the unseen villages the scent of damp wood smoke, hot cakes,
dripping undergrowth, and rotting pine-cones. That smell is the
true smell of the Himalayas, and if it once gets into the blood of a
man he will, at the last, forgetting everything else, return to the
Hills to die. The clouds closed and the smell went away, and there
remained nothing in all the world except chilling white mists and
the boom of the Sutlej River.

A fat-tailed sheep, who did not want to die, bleated lamentably at
my tent-door. He was scuffling with the prime minister and the
director-general of public education, and he was a royal gift to me
and my camp servants. I expressed my thanks suitably and
inquired if I might have audience of the king. The prime minister
readjusted his turban-it had fallen off in the struggle-and assured
me that the king would be very pleased to see me. Therefore I
dispatched two bottles as a foretaste, and when the sheep had
entered upon another incarnation, climbed up to the king's palace
through the wet. He had sent his army to escort me, but it stayed to
talk with my cook. Soldiers are very much alike all the world
over.

The palace was a four-roomed, white-washed mud-and-timber
house, the finest in all the Hills for a day's journey. The king was
dressed in a purple velvet jacket, white muslin trousers, and a
saffron-yellow turban of price. He gave me audience in a little
carpeted room opening off the palace court-yard, which was
occupied by the elephant of state. The great beast was sheeted and
anchored from trunk to tail, and the curve of his back stood out
against the sky line.

The prime minister and the director-general of public instruction
were present to introduce me; but all the court had been dismissed
lest the two bottles aforesaid should corrupt their morals. The king
cast a wreath of heavy, scented flowers round my neck as I bowed,
and inquired how my honored presence had the felicity to be. I
said that through seeing his auspicious countenance the mists of
the night had turned into sunshine, and that by reason of his
beneficent sheep his good deeds would be remembered by the
gods. He said that since I had set my magnificent foot in his
kingdom the crops would probably yield seventy per cent more
than the average. I said that the fame of the king had reached to
the four corners of the earth, and that the nations gnashed their
teeth when they heard daily of the glory of his realm and the
wisdom of his moon-like prime minister and lotus-eyed director-
general of public education.

Then we sat down on clean white cushions, and I was at the king's
right hand. Three minutes later he was telling me that the
condition of the maize crop was something disgraceful, and that
the railway companies would not pay him enough for his timber.
The talk shifted to and fro with the bottles. We discussed very
many quaint things, and the king became confidential on the
subject of government generally. Most of all he dwelt on the
shortcomings of one of his subjects, who, from what I could
gather, had been paralyzing the executive.

"In the old days," said the king, '~I could have ordered the elephant
yonder to trample him to death. Now I must e'en send him seventy
miles across the hills to be tried, and his keep for that time would
be upon the state. And the elephant eats everything."

"What be the man's crimes, Rajah Sahib?" said I.

"Firstly, he is an 'outlander,' and no man of mine own people.
Secondly, since of my favor I gave him land upon his coming, he
refuses to pay revenue. Am I not the lord of the earth, above and
below-entitled by right and custom to one-eighth of the crop? Yet
this devil, establishing himself, refuses to pay a single tax . . . and
he brings a poisonous spawn of babes."

"Cast him into jail," I said.

"Sahib," the king answered, shifting a little on the cushions, "once
and only once in these forty years sickness came upon me so that I
was not able to go abroad. In that hour I made a vow to my God
that I would never again cut man or woman from the light of the
sun and the air of God, for I perceived the nature of the
punishment. How can I break my vow? Were it only the lopping
off of a hand or a foot, I should not delay. But even that is
impossible now that the English have rule. One or another
of my people"-he looked obliquely at the director-general of public
education-"would at once write a letter to the viceroy, and perhaps
I should be deprived of that ruffle of drums."

He unscrewed the mouthpiece of his silver water-pipe, fitted a
plain amber one, and passed the pipe to me. "Not content with
refusing revenue," he continued, "this outlander refuses also to
beegar" (this is the corvee or forced labor on the roads), "and stirs
my people up to the like treason. Yet he is, if so he wills, an
expert log-snatcher. There is none better or bolder among my
people to clear a block of the river when the logs stick fast."

"But he worships strange gods," said the prime minister,
deferentially.

"For that I have no concern," said the king, who was as tolerant as
Akbar in matters of belief. "To each man his own god, and the fire
or Mother Earth for us all at the last. It is the rebellion that
offends me."

"The king has an army," I suggested. "Has not the king burned the
man's house, and left him naked to the night dews?"

"Nay. A hut is a hut, and it holds the life of a man. But once I sent
my army against him when his excuses became wearisome. Of
their heads he brake three across the top with a stick. The other
two men ran away. Also the guns would not shoot."

I had seen the equipment of the infantry. One-third of it was an
old muzzle-loading fowling-piece with ragged rust holes where the
nipples should have been; one-third a wirebound matchlock with
a worm-eaten stock, and one-third a four-bore flint duck-gun,
without a flint.

"But it is to be remembered," said the king, reaching out for the
bottle, "that he is a very expert log-snatcher and a man of a merry
face. What shall I do to him, sahib?"

This was interesting. The timid hill-folk would as soon have
refused taxes to their king as offerings to their gods. The rebel
must be a man of character.

"If it be the king's permission," I said, "I will not strike my tents till
the third day, and I will see this man. The mercy of the king is
godlike, and rebellion is like unto the sin of witchcraft. Moreover,
both the bottles, and another, be empty."

"You have my leave to go," said the king.

Next morning the crier went through the stare proclaiming that
there was a log-jam on the river and that it behooved all loyal
subjects to clear it. The people poured down from their villages to
the moist, warm valley of poppy fields, and the king and I went
with them.

Hundreds of dressed deodar logs had caught on a snag of rock, and
the river was bringing down more logs every minute to complete
the blockade. The water snarled and wrenched and worried at the
timber, while the population of the state prodded at the nearest
logs with poles, in the hope of easing the pressure. Then there
went up a shout of "Namgay Doola! Namgay Doola!" and a large,
red-haired villager hurried up, stripping off his clothes as he ran.

"That he is. That is the rebel!" said the king. "Now will the dam
be cleared."

"But why has he red hair?" I asked, since red hair among hill-folk
is as Un-common as blue or green.

"He is an outlander," said the king. "Well done! Oh, well done!"

Namgay Doola had scrambled on the jam and was clawing out the
butt of a log with a rude sort of a boat-hook. It slid forward slowly,
as an alligator moves, and three or four others followed it. The
green water spouted through the gaps. Then the villagers howled
and shouted and leaped among the logs, pulling and pushing the
obstinate timber, and the red head of Namgay Doola was chief
among them all. The logs swayed and chafed and groaned as fresh
consignments from up-stream battered the now weakening dam. It
gave way at last in a smother of foam, racing butts, bobbing black
heads, and a confusion indescribable, as the river tossed everything
before it. I saw the red head go down with the last remnants of the
jam and disappear between the great grinding tree trunks. It rose
close to the hank, and blowing like a grampus, Namgay Doola
wiped the water out of his eyes and made obeisance to the king.

I had time to observe the man closely. The virulent redness of his
shock head and beard was most startling, and in the thicket of hair
twinkled above high cheek-bones two very merry blue eyes. He
was indeed an outlander, but yet a Thibetan in language, habit and
attire. He spoke the Lepcha dialect with an indescribable softening of the gutturals. It was not
so much a lisp as an accent.

"Whence comest thou?" I asked, wondering.

"From Thibet." He pointed across the hills and grinned. That grin
went straight to my heart. Mechanically I held out my hand and
Namgay Doola took it. No pure Thibetan would have understood
the meaning of the gesture. He went away to look for his clothes,
and as he climbed back to his village, I heard a joyous yell that
seemed unaccountably familiar. It was the whooping of Namgay
Doola.

"You see now," said the king, "why I would not kill him. He is a
bold man among my logs, but," and he shook his head like a
schoolmaster, "I know that before long there will be complaints of
him in the court. Let us return to the palace and do justice."

It was that king's custom to judge his subjects every day between
eleven and three o'clock. I heard him do justice equitably on
weighty matters of trespass, slander, and a little wife-stealing.
Then his brow clouded and he summoned me.

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