IX.

IX.We journeyed on in single file;The march proceeded mile on mileMonotonous and lonely,We saw (if I remember right)The friendly features of a whiteOn two occasions only.The first was when our expeditionCame suddenly on a commission,Appointed to determineWhether the thirteenth parallelRan right across a certain well,Or touched a closely neighbouring tree;And whether elephants should beExterminated all as “game,”Or, what is not at all the same,Destroyed as common vermin.To this commission had been sentGreat bigwigs from the Continent,And on the English sideMen of such ancient pedigreeAs filled the soul of Blood with glee;He started up and cried:—“I’ll go to them at once, and makeThese young adventurous spirits takeA proof of my desireTo use in this concern of oursTheir unsuspected business powers.The bearers of historic namesShall rise to something higherThan haggling over frontier claims,And they shall find their last estateEnshrined in my directorate.”Illustration: Blood and a military officer sitting outdoors with a palm tree in the background, and a snake wrapped around the tree.In twenty minutes he returned,His face with righteous anger burned,And when we asked him what he’d done,He answered, “They reject us,I couldn’t get a single one,To come on the prospectus.Their leader (though he was a Lord)Stoutly refused to join the board,And made a silly foreign speechWhich sounded like No Bless Ableech.I’m used to many kinds of men,And bore it very well; but, whenIt came to being twittedOn my historic Sporting Shirt,I own I felt a trifle hurt;I took my leave and quitted.”There is another side to this;With no desire to prejudiceThe version of our leader,I think I ought to drop a hintOf what I shall be bound to print,In justice to the reader.I followed, keeping out of sight;And took in this ingenious wayA sketch that throws a certain lightOnwhythe master went away.No doubt he felt a trifle hurt,It even may be true to sayThey twitted him upon his shirt.But isn’t it a trifle thickTo talk of twitting with a stick?Illustration: Military officer twitting Blood with a stick and kicking him.Well, let it pass. He acted well.This species of official swell,Especially the peer,Who stoops to a delimitationWith any European nationIs doomed to disappear.Blood said, “They pass into the night.”And men like Blood are always right.The Secondshows the full effectOf ministerial neglect;Sin, walking out alone in questOf Boa-constrictors that infestThe Lagos Hinterland,Got separated from the rest,And ran against a bandOf native soldiers led by three—Illustration: Portrait of three men in (very different) military uniforms.A Frenchman, an official Prussian,And what we took to be a Russian—The very coalitionWho threaten England’s power at sea,And, but for men like Blood and me,Would drive her navies from the sea,And hurl her to perdition.But did my comrade think to flee?To use his very words—Not he!He turned with a contemptuous laugh.Observe him in the photograph.Illustration: Sin grinning and walking past the three military men (from previous illustration).But still these bureaucrats pursued,Until they reached the Captain’s tent.They grew astonishingly rude;The Russian simply insolent,Announcing that he had been sentUpon a holy mission,To call for the disarmamentOf all our expedition.He said “the miseries of warHad touched his master to the core”;It was extremely vexingTo hear him add, “he couldn’t standThis passion for absorbing land;He hoped we weren’t annexing.”The German asked with some brutalityTo have our names and nationality.I had an inspiration,In words methodical and slowI gave him this decisive blow:“I haven’t got a nation.”Perhaps the dodge was rather low,And yet I wasn’t wrong toEscape the consequences so;For, on my soul, I did not knowWhatnation to belong to.The German gave a searching look,And marked me in his little book:—“The features are a trifle Dutch—Perhaps he is a Fenian;He may be a Maltese, but muchMore probably Armenian.”Blood gave us each a trifling sumTo say that he was deaf and dumb,And backed the affirmationBy gestures so extremely rum,They marked him on the writing pad:“Not only deaf and dumb, but mad.”It saved the situation.“If such a man asthat” (said they)“Is Leader, they can go their way.”Illustration: Military man taking notes as Blood talks and gesticulates.

We journeyed on in single file;The march proceeded mile on mileMonotonous and lonely,We saw (if I remember right)The friendly features of a whiteOn two occasions only.The first was when our expeditionCame suddenly on a commission,Appointed to determineWhether the thirteenth parallelRan right across a certain well,Or touched a closely neighbouring tree;And whether elephants should beExterminated all as “game,”Or, what is not at all the same,Destroyed as common vermin.To this commission had been sentGreat bigwigs from the Continent,And on the English sideMen of such ancient pedigreeAs filled the soul of Blood with glee;He started up and cried:—“I’ll go to them at once, and makeThese young adventurous spirits takeA proof of my desireTo use in this concern of oursTheir unsuspected business powers.The bearers of historic namesShall rise to something higherThan haggling over frontier claims,And they shall find their last estateEnshrined in my directorate.”

We journeyed on in single file;The march proceeded mile on mileMonotonous and lonely,We saw (if I remember right)The friendly features of a whiteOn two occasions only.

We journeyed on in single file;

The march proceeded mile on mile

Monotonous and lonely,

We saw (if I remember right)

The friendly features of a white

On two occasions only.

The first was when our expeditionCame suddenly on a commission,Appointed to determineWhether the thirteenth parallelRan right across a certain well,Or touched a closely neighbouring tree;And whether elephants should beExterminated all as “game,”Or, what is not at all the same,Destroyed as common vermin.

The first was when our expedition

Came suddenly on a commission,

Appointed to determine

Whether the thirteenth parallel

Ran right across a certain well,

Or touched a closely neighbouring tree;

And whether elephants should be

Exterminated all as “game,”

Or, what is not at all the same,

Destroyed as common vermin.

To this commission had been sentGreat bigwigs from the Continent,And on the English sideMen of such ancient pedigreeAs filled the soul of Blood with glee;He started up and cried:—“I’ll go to them at once, and makeThese young adventurous spirits takeA proof of my desireTo use in this concern of oursTheir unsuspected business powers.The bearers of historic namesShall rise to something higherThan haggling over frontier claims,And they shall find their last estateEnshrined in my directorate.”

To this commission had been sent

Great bigwigs from the Continent,

And on the English side

Men of such ancient pedigree

As filled the soul of Blood with glee;

He started up and cried:—

“I’ll go to them at once, and make

These young adventurous spirits take

A proof of my desire

To use in this concern of ours

Their unsuspected business powers.

The bearers of historic names

Shall rise to something higher

Than haggling over frontier claims,

And they shall find their last estate

Enshrined in my directorate.”

Illustration: Blood and a military officer sitting outdoors with a palm tree in the background, and a snake wrapped around the tree.

In twenty minutes he returned,His face with righteous anger burned,And when we asked him what he’d done,He answered, “They reject us,I couldn’t get a single one,To come on the prospectus.Their leader (though he was a Lord)Stoutly refused to join the board,And made a silly foreign speechWhich sounded like No Bless Ableech.I’m used to many kinds of men,And bore it very well; but, whenIt came to being twittedOn my historic Sporting Shirt,I own I felt a trifle hurt;I took my leave and quitted.”There is another side to this;With no desire to prejudiceThe version of our leader,I think I ought to drop a hintOf what I shall be bound to print,In justice to the reader.I followed, keeping out of sight;And took in this ingenious wayA sketch that throws a certain lightOnwhythe master went away.No doubt he felt a trifle hurt,It even may be true to sayThey twitted him upon his shirt.But isn’t it a trifle thickTo talk of twitting with a stick?

In twenty minutes he returned,His face with righteous anger burned,And when we asked him what he’d done,He answered, “They reject us,I couldn’t get a single one,To come on the prospectus.Their leader (though he was a Lord)Stoutly refused to join the board,And made a silly foreign speechWhich sounded like No Bless Ableech.I’m used to many kinds of men,And bore it very well; but, whenIt came to being twittedOn my historic Sporting Shirt,I own I felt a trifle hurt;I took my leave and quitted.”

In twenty minutes he returned,

His face with righteous anger burned,

And when we asked him what he’d done,

He answered, “They reject us,

I couldn’t get a single one,

To come on the prospectus.

Their leader (though he was a Lord)

Stoutly refused to join the board,

And made a silly foreign speech

Which sounded like No Bless Ableech.

I’m used to many kinds of men,

And bore it very well; but, when

It came to being twitted

On my historic Sporting Shirt,

I own I felt a trifle hurt;

I took my leave and quitted.”

There is another side to this;With no desire to prejudiceThe version of our leader,I think I ought to drop a hintOf what I shall be bound to print,In justice to the reader.I followed, keeping out of sight;And took in this ingenious wayA sketch that throws a certain lightOnwhythe master went away.No doubt he felt a trifle hurt,It even may be true to sayThey twitted him upon his shirt.But isn’t it a trifle thickTo talk of twitting with a stick?

There is another side to this;

With no desire to prejudice

The version of our leader,

I think I ought to drop a hint

Of what I shall be bound to print,

In justice to the reader.

I followed, keeping out of sight;

And took in this ingenious way

A sketch that throws a certain light

Onwhythe master went away.

No doubt he felt a trifle hurt,

It even may be true to say

They twitted him upon his shirt.

But isn’t it a trifle thick

To talk of twitting with a stick?

Illustration: Military officer twitting Blood with a stick and kicking him.

Well, let it pass. He acted well.This species of official swell,Especially the peer,Who stoops to a delimitationWith any European nationIs doomed to disappear.Blood said, “They pass into the night.”And men like Blood are always right.The Secondshows the full effectOf ministerial neglect;Sin, walking out alone in questOf Boa-constrictors that infestThe Lagos Hinterland,Got separated from the rest,And ran against a bandOf native soldiers led by three—

Well, let it pass. He acted well.This species of official swell,Especially the peer,Who stoops to a delimitationWith any European nationIs doomed to disappear.Blood said, “They pass into the night.”And men like Blood are always right.

Well, let it pass. He acted well.

This species of official swell,

Especially the peer,

Who stoops to a delimitation

With any European nation

Is doomed to disappear.

Blood said, “They pass into the night.”

And men like Blood are always right.

The Secondshows the full effectOf ministerial neglect;Sin, walking out alone in questOf Boa-constrictors that infestThe Lagos Hinterland,Got separated from the rest,And ran against a bandOf native soldiers led by three—

The Secondshows the full effect

Of ministerial neglect;

Sin, walking out alone in quest

Of Boa-constrictors that infest

The Lagos Hinterland,

Got separated from the rest,

And ran against a band

Of native soldiers led by three—

Illustration: Portrait of three men in (very different) military uniforms.

A Frenchman, an official Prussian,And what we took to be a Russian—The very coalitionWho threaten England’s power at sea,And, but for men like Blood and me,Would drive her navies from the sea,And hurl her to perdition.But did my comrade think to flee?To use his very words—Not he!He turned with a contemptuous laugh.Observe him in the photograph.

A Frenchman, an official Prussian,And what we took to be a Russian—The very coalitionWho threaten England’s power at sea,And, but for men like Blood and me,Would drive her navies from the sea,And hurl her to perdition.But did my comrade think to flee?To use his very words—Not he!He turned with a contemptuous laugh.Observe him in the photograph.

A Frenchman, an official Prussian,

And what we took to be a Russian—

The very coalition

Who threaten England’s power at sea,

And, but for men like Blood and me,

Would drive her navies from the sea,

And hurl her to perdition.

But did my comrade think to flee?

To use his very words—Not he!

He turned with a contemptuous laugh.

Observe him in the photograph.

Illustration: Sin grinning and walking past the three military men (from previous illustration).

But still these bureaucrats pursued,Until they reached the Captain’s tent.They grew astonishingly rude;The Russian simply insolent,Announcing that he had been sentUpon a holy mission,To call for the disarmamentOf all our expedition.He said “the miseries of warHad touched his master to the core”;It was extremely vexingTo hear him add, “he couldn’t standThis passion for absorbing land;He hoped we weren’t annexing.”The German asked with some brutalityTo have our names and nationality.I had an inspiration,In words methodical and slowI gave him this decisive blow:“I haven’t got a nation.”Perhaps the dodge was rather low,And yet I wasn’t wrong toEscape the consequences so;For, on my soul, I did not knowWhatnation to belong to.The German gave a searching look,And marked me in his little book:—“The features are a trifle Dutch—Perhaps he is a Fenian;He may be a Maltese, but muchMore probably Armenian.”Blood gave us each a trifling sumTo say that he was deaf and dumb,And backed the affirmationBy gestures so extremely rum,They marked him on the writing pad:“Not only deaf and dumb, but mad.”It saved the situation.“If such a man asthat” (said they)“Is Leader, they can go their way.”

But still these bureaucrats pursued,Until they reached the Captain’s tent.They grew astonishingly rude;The Russian simply insolent,Announcing that he had been sentUpon a holy mission,To call for the disarmamentOf all our expedition.He said “the miseries of warHad touched his master to the core”;It was extremely vexingTo hear him add, “he couldn’t standThis passion for absorbing land;He hoped we weren’t annexing.”The German asked with some brutalityTo have our names and nationality.I had an inspiration,In words methodical and slowI gave him this decisive blow:“I haven’t got a nation.”Perhaps the dodge was rather low,And yet I wasn’t wrong toEscape the consequences so;For, on my soul, I did not knowWhatnation to belong to.

But still these bureaucrats pursued,

Until they reached the Captain’s tent.

They grew astonishingly rude;

The Russian simply insolent,

Announcing that he had been sent

Upon a holy mission,

To call for the disarmament

Of all our expedition.

He said “the miseries of war

Had touched his master to the core”;

It was extremely vexing

To hear him add, “he couldn’t stand

This passion for absorbing land;

He hoped we weren’t annexing.”

The German asked with some brutality

To have our names and nationality.

I had an inspiration,

In words methodical and slow

I gave him this decisive blow:

“I haven’t got a nation.”

Perhaps the dodge was rather low,

And yet I wasn’t wrong to

Escape the consequences so;

For, on my soul, I did not know

Whatnation to belong to.

The German gave a searching look,And marked me in his little book:—“The features are a trifle Dutch—Perhaps he is a Fenian;He may be a Maltese, but muchMore probably Armenian.”

The German gave a searching look,

And marked me in his little book:—

“The features are a trifle Dutch—

Perhaps he is a Fenian;

He may be a Maltese, but much

More probably Armenian.”

Blood gave us each a trifling sumTo say that he was deaf and dumb,And backed the affirmationBy gestures so extremely rum,They marked him on the writing pad:“Not only deaf and dumb, but mad.”It saved the situation.“If such a man asthat” (said they)“Is Leader, they can go their way.”

Blood gave us each a trifling sum

To say that he was deaf and dumb,

And backed the affirmation

By gestures so extremely rum,

They marked him on the writing pad:

“Not only deaf and dumb, but mad.”

It saved the situation.

“If such a man asthat” (said they)

“Is Leader, they can go their way.”

Illustration: Military man taking notes as Blood talks and gesticulates.

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