  Alas! within a single week The Messengers despatched to seek Our hiding-place had found us, We made an excellent defence (I use the word in legal sense), But none the less they bound us. (Not in the legal sense at all But with a heavy chain and ball). Illustration: An African showing Blood’s shirt to the other two travellers. With barbarism past belief They flaunted in our faces The relics of our noble chief; With insolent grimaces, Raised the historic shirt before Our eyes, and pointed on the floor To dog-eared cards and loaded dice; It seems they sold him by the slice. Well, every man has got his price. The horrors followed thick and fast, I turned my head to give a last Farewell to Sin; but, ah! too late, I only saw his horrid fate— Some savages around a pot That seemed uncomfortably hot; And in the centre of the group My dear companion making soup. Illustration: Cooking cauldron in the midst of a group of Africans with Sin’s hand reaching out of it. Illustration: Our traveller unclothed hanging by his feet from a tree, and Africans whipping and jobbing him, and filling his mouth with soap. Then I was pleased to recognize Two thumbscrews suited to my size, And I was very glad to see That they were going to torture me. I find the torture pays me best, It simply teems with interest. They hung me up above the floor Head downwards by a rope; They thrashed me half an hour or more, They filled my mouth with soap; They jobbed me with a pointed pole To make me lose my self-control, But they did not succeed. Till (if it’s not too coarse to state) There happened what I simply hate, My nose began to bleed. Then, I admit, I said a word Which luckily they never heard; But in a very little while My calm and my contemptuous smile Compelled them to proceed. They filed my canine teeth to points And made me bite my tongue. They racked me till they burst my joints, And after that they hung A stone upon my neck that weighed At least a hundred pounds, and made Me run like mad for twenty miles, And climb a lot of lofty stiles. They tried a dodge that rarely fails, The tub of Regulus with nails— The cask is rather rude and flat, But native casks are all like that— The nails stuck in for quite an inch, But did I flinch? I did not flinch. Illustration: Our traveller trapped in a nail-studded barrel singing and the barrel being rolled by an African. In tones determined, loud, and strong I sang a patriotic song, Thank Heaven it did not last for long! My misery was past; My superhuman courage rose Superior to my savage foes; They worshipped me at last. With many heartfelt compliments, They sent me back at their expense, And here I am returned to find The pleasures I had left behind. To go the London rounds! To note the quite peculiar air Of courtesy, and everywhere The same unfailing public trust In manuscript that fetches just A thousand! not of thin Rupees, Nor Reis (which are Portuguese), Nor Rubles; but a thousand clear Of heavy, round, impressive, dear, Familiar English pounds! Oh! England, who would leave thy shores— Excuse me, but I see it bores A busy journalist To hear a rhapsody which he Could write without detaining me, So I will not insist. Only permit me once again To make it clearly understood That both those honourable men, Commander Sin and Captain Blood, Would swear to all that I have said, Were they alive; but they are dead! Illustration: Portraits of our three travellers being viewed by two weeping men. |
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