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Ebook has 110 lines and 17567 words, and 3 pages

Illustrator: Basil Temple Blackwood

THE MODERN TRAVELLER

EDWARD ARNOLD 37, BEDFORD STREET, LONDON 1898

BAD CHILD'S BOOK OF BEASTS. Fcap. 4to., 2s. 6d. nett. ALDEN & CO., OXFORD.

MORE BEASTS . Demy 4to., 3s. 6d. EDWARD ARNOLD, LONDON.

THE MODERN TRAVELLER.

Of course, the Public know I mean To publish in the winter. I mention the intention in Connection with Commander Sin; The book is with the Printer. And here, among the proofs, I find The very thing I had in mind-- The portrait upon page thirteen.

Pray pause awhile, and mark The wiry limbs, the vigorous mien, The tangled hair and dark; The glance imperative and hot, That takes a world by storm: All these are in the plate, but what You chiefly should observe is The--Did you say his uniform Betrayed a foreign service?

Of course, it does! He was not born In little England! No! Beyond the Cape, beyond the Horn, Beyond Fernando Po, In some far Isle he saw the light That burns the torrid zone, But where it lay was never quite Indubitably known. Himself inclined to Martinique, His friends to Farralone. But why of this discussion speak? The Globe was all his own! Oh! surely upon such a birth No petty flag unfurled! He was a citizen of earth, A subject of the world!

As for the uniform he bore, He won it in the recent war Between Peru and Ecuador, And thoroughly he earned it. Alone of all who at the time Were serving sentences for crime, Sin, during his incarceration Had studied works on navigation; And when the people learned it, They promptly let him out of jail, But on condition he should sail.

It marked an epoch, and you may Recall the action in A place called Quaxipotle bay? Yes, both the navies ran away; And yet, if Ecuador can say That on the whole she won the day, The fact is due to Sin.

The Fleet was hardly ten weeks out, When somebody descried The enemy. Sin gave a shout, The Helmsmen put the ship about; For, upon either side, Tactics demanded a retreat. Due west retired the foreign fleet, But Sin he steered due east; He muttered, "They shall never meet." And when, towards the close of day, The foemen were at least Fifteen or twenty miles away, He called his cabin-steward aft, The boldest of his men; He grasped them by the hand; he laughed A fearless laugh, and then, "Heaven help the right! Full steam a-head, Fighting for fighting's sake," he said.

Due west the foe--due east he steered. Ah, me! the very stokers cheered, And faces black with coal And fuzzy with a five days' beard Popped up, and yelled, and disappeared Each in its little hole. Long after they were out of sight, Long after dark, throughout the night, Throughout the following day, He went on fighting all the time! Not war, perhaps, but how sublime!

Just as he would have stepped ashore, The President of Ecuador Came on his quarter deck; Embraced him twenty times or more, And gave him stripes and things galore, Crosses and medals by the score, And handed him a cheque,-- And then a little speech he read.

"Of twenty years, your sentence said, "That you should serve--another week " "Was owing when you quitted. "In recognition of your nerve, "It gives me pleasure to observe "The time you still had got to serve "Is totally remitted.

"Instead of which these friends of mine"-- -- "Have changed your sentence to a fine "Made payable to me. "No--do not thank me--not a word! "I am very glad to say "This little cheque is quite a third "Of what you have to pay."

The crew they cheered and cheered again, The simple-loyal-hearted men!

Such deeds could never fail to be Renowned throughout the west. It was our cousins over sea That loved the Sailor best,-- Our Anglo-Saxon kith and kin, They doted on Commander Sin, And gave him a tremendous feast The week before we started. O'Hooligan, and Vonderbeast, And Nicolazzi, and the rest, Were simply broken-hearted.

They came and ate and cried, "God speed!" The Bill was very large indeed, And paid for by an Anglo-Saxon Who bore the sterling name of Jackson. On this occasion Sin was seen Toasting McKinley and the Queen. The speech was dull, but not an eye, Not even the champagne was dry.

Observe the face of William Jackson, How typical an Anglo-Saxon!

Now William Blood, or, as I still Affectionately call him, Bill, Was of a different stamp; One who, in other ages born Had turned to strengthen and adorn The Senate or the Camp. But Fortune, jealous and austere, Had marked him for a great career Of more congenial kind-- A sort of modern Buccaneer, Commercial and refined. Like all great men, his chief affairs Were buying stocks and selling shares. He occupied his mind In buying them by day from men Who needed ready cash, and then At evening selling them again To those with whom he dined.

But such a task could never fill His masterful ambition That rapid glance, that iron will, Disdained to make A profit here and there, or take His two per cent. commission. His soul with nobler stuff was fraught; The love of country, as it ought, Haunted his every act and thought. To that he lent his mighty powers, To that he gave his waking hours, Of that he dreamed in troubled sleep, Till, after many years, the deep Imperial emotion, That moves us like a martial strain, Turned his Napoleonic brain To company promotion.

He failed, and it was better so: It made our expedition. One day He came on foot across the town, And said his luck was rather down, And would I lend him half-a-crown? I did, but on condition , That, "If within the current year He made a hundred thousand clear," He should accompany me in A Project I had formed with Sin To go to Timbuctoo. Later, we had a tiff because I introduced another clause, Of which the general sense is, That Blood, in the unlikely case Of this adventure taking place, Should pay the whole expenses. Blood swore that he had never read Or seen the clause. But Blood is dead.

Let me describe what he became The day that he succeeded,-- Though, in the searching light that Fame Has cast on that immortal name, The task is hardly needed.

The world has very rarely seen A deeper gulf than stood between The men who were my friends. And, speaking frankly, I confess They never cared to meet, unless It served their private ends.

Sin loved the bottle, William gold; 'Twas Blood that bought and Sin that sold, In all their mutual dealings. Blood never broke the penal laws; Sin did it all the while, because He had the finer feelings.

Blood had his dreams, but Sin was mad: While Sin was foolish, Blood was bad, Sin, though I say it, was a cad. But Blood was exquisitely bred, And always in the swim, And people were extremely glad To ask him to their houses. Be not too eager to condemn: It was not he that hunted them, But they that hunted him.

In this fair world of culture made For men of his peculiar trade, Of all the many parts he played, The part he grew to like the best Was called "the self-respecting guest." And for that very reason He found himself in great request At parties in the season, Wherever gentlemen invest, From Chelsea to Mayfair. From Lath and Stucco Gate, S.W., To 90, Berkeley Square. The little statesmen in the bud, The big provincial mayor, The man that owns a magazine, The authoress who might have been; They always sent a card to Blood, And Blood was always there. At every dinner, crush or rout, A little whirlpool turned about The form immoveable and stout, That marked the Millionaire.

These gentlemen are bulls and bears, Their club has very curious chairs.

Again the origin of Sin, Was doubtful and obscure; Whereas, the Captain's origin Was absolutely sure.

A document affirms that he Was born in 1853 Upon a German ship at sea, Just off the Grand Canary. And though the log is rather free And written too compactly, We know the weather to a T, The longitude to a degree, The latitude exactly, And every detail is the same; We even know his Mother's name. As to his father's occupation, Creed, colour, character or nation, ; He said himself concerning it, With admirably caustic wit, "I think the Public would much rather Be sure of me than of my father."

The contrast curiously keen Their characters could yield Was most conspicuously seen Upon the Tented Field. Was there by chance a native tribe To cheat, cajole, corrupt, or bribe?-- In such conditions Sin would burn To plunge into the fray, While Blood would run the whole concern From fifty miles away.

He had, wherever honours vain Were weighed against material gain A judgment, practical and sane, Peculiarly his own. In this connection let me quote An interesting anecdote Not generally known. Before he sailed he might have been A military man of note. Her gracious Majesty the Queen Would certainly have made him, In spite of his advancing years, A Captain of the Volunteers.

This reticence, which some have called hypocrisy Was but the sign of nature's aristocracy.

Did we at length, perhaps, regret Our strange adventurous lot? And were our eyes a trifle wet With tears that we repressed, and yet Which started blinding hot? Perhaps--and yet, I do not know, For when we came to go below, We cheerfully admitted That though there was a smell of paint , The cabin furniture was good And comfortably fitted. And even out beyond the Nore We did not ask to go ashore.

At sea the days go slipping past, Monotonous from first to last-- A trip like any other one In vessels going south. The sun Grew higher and more fiery.

We lay and drank, and swore, and played At Trick-my-neighbour in the shade; And you may guess how every sight, However trivial or slight, Was noted in my diary. I have it here--the usual things-- A serpent Came rising from the sea: In length A quarter of a mile or less. The weather was extremely clear The creature dangerously near And plain as it would be.

It had a bifurcated tail, And in its mouth it held a whale.

Just north, I find, of Cape de Verd We caught a very curious bird With horns upon its head; And--not, as one might well suppose, Web-footed or with jointed toes-- But having hoofs instead. As no one present seemed to know Its use or name, I let it go.

On June the 7th after dark A young and very hungry shark Came climbing up the side. It ate the Chaplain and the Mate-- But why these incidents relate? The public must decide, That nothing in the voyage out Was worth their bothering about, Until we saw the coast, which looks Exactly as it does in books.

Oh! Africa, mysterious Land! Surrounded by a lot of sand And full of grass and trees, And elephants and Afrikanders, And politics and Salamanders, And Germans seeking to annoy, And horrible rhinoceroi, And native rum in little kegs, And savages called Touaregs . And tons of diamonds, and lots Of nasty, dirty Hottentots, And coolies coming from the East; And serpents, seven yards long at least And lions, that retain Their vigour, appetites and rage Intact to an extreme old age, And never lose their mane.

Great Island! Made to be the bane Of Mr. Joseph Chamberlain. Peninsula! Whose smouldering fights Keep Salisbury awake at nights; And furnished for a year or so Such sport to M. Hanotaux.

Vast Continent! Whose cumbrous shape Runs from Bizerta to the Cape .

Thou nest of Sultans full of guile, Embracing Zanzibar the vile And Egypt, watered by the Nile :-- Containing in thy many states Two independent potentates, And one I may not name. To thee, dear goal, so long deferred Like old AEneas--in a word To Africa we came.

In getting up our Caravan We met a most obliging man, The Lord Chief Justice of Liberia, And Minister of the Interior; Cain Abolition Beecher Boz, Worked like a Nigger--which he was-- And in a single day Procured us Porters, Guides, and kit, And would not take a sou for it Until we went away.

But when we went away, we found A deficit of several pound.

We wondered how this fellow made Himself so readily obeyed, And why the natives were so meek; Until by chance we heard him speak, And then we clearly understood How great a Power for Social Good The African can be. He said with a determined air: "You are not what your fathers were; Liberians, you are Free! Of course, if you refuse to go--" And here he made a gesture so.

He also gave us good advice Concerning Labour and its Price. "In dealing wid de Native Scum, Yo' cannot pick an' choose; Yo' hab to promise um a sum Ob wages, paid in Cloth and Rum. But, Lordy! that's a ruse! Yo' get yo' well on de Adventure, And change de wages to Indenture."

We did the thing that he projected, The Caravan grew disaffected, And Sin and I consulted; Blood understood the Native mind. He said: "We must be firm but kind." A Mutiny resulted. I never shall forget the way That Blood upon this awful day Preserved us all from death. He stood upon a little mound, Cast his lethargic eyes around, And said beneath his breath: "Whatever happens we have got The Maxim Gun, and they have not."

He marked them in their rude advance, He hushed their rebel cheers; With one extremely vulgar glance He broke the Mutineers. We shot and hanged a few, and then The rest became devoted men.

Well, after that we toiled away At drawing maps, and day by day Blood made an accurate survey Of all that seemed to lend A chance, no matter how remote, Of letting our financier float That triumph of Imagination, "The Libyan Association." In this the "Negroes' friend" Was much concerned to show the way Of making Missionaries pay.

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