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‘Nga Yin is shaking himself! Nga Yin is shaking himself!’ Flory watched them unintelligently. Who was Nga Yin? Nga is the prefix given to criminals. Nga Yin must be a dacoit. Why was he shaking himself? Then he remembered. Nga Yin was a giant supposed by the Burmese to be buried, like Typhaeus, beneath the crust of the earth. Of course! It was an earthquake. ‘An earthquake!’ he exclaimed, and he remembered Elizabeth and moved to pick her up. But she was already sitting up, unhurt, and rubbing the back of her head. ‘Was that an earthquake?’ she said in a rather awed voice. Mrs Lackersteen’s tall form came creeping round the corner of the veranda, clinging to the wall like some elongated lizard. She was exclaiming hysterically: ‘Oh dear, an earthquake! Oh, what a dreadful shock! I can’t bear it–my heart won’t stand it! Oh dear, oh dear! An earthquake!’ Mr Lackersteen tottered after her, with a strange ataxic step caused partly by earth-tremors and partly by gin. ‘An earthquake, dammit!’ he said. Flory and Elizabeth slowly picked themselves up. They all went inside, with that queer feeling in the soles of the feet that one has when one steps from a rocking boat onto the shore. The old butler was hurrying from the servants’ quarters, thrusting his pagri on his head as he came, and a troop of twittering chokras after him. ‘Earthquake, sir, earthquake!’ he bubbled eagerly. ‘I should damn well think it was an earthquake,’ said Mr Lackersteen as he lowered himself cautiously into a chair. ‘Here, get some drinks, butler. By God, I could do with a nip of something after that.’ They all had a nip of something. The butler, shy yet beaming, stood on one leg beside the table, with the tray in his hand. ‘Earthquake, sir, big earthquake!’ he repeated enthusiastically. He was bursting with eagerness to talk; so, for that matter, was everyone else. An extraordinary joie de vivre had come over them all as soon as the shaky feeling departed from their legs. An earthquake is such fun when it is over. It is so exhilarating to reflect that you are not, as you well might be, lying dead under a heap of ruins. Wim one accord they all burst out talking: ‘My dear, I’ve never had such a shock–I fell absolutely flat on my back–I thought it was a dam’ pariah dog scratching itself under the floor–I thought it must be an explosion somewhere–’ and so on and so forth; the usual earthquakechatter. Even the butler was included in the conversation. ‘I expect you can remember ever so many earthquakes, can’t you, butler?’ said Mrs Lackersteen, quite graciously, for her. ‘Oh yes, madam, many earthquakes! 1887, 1899, 1906, 1912–many, many I can remember, madam!’ ‘The 1912 one was a biggish one,’ Flory said. ‘Oh, sir, but 1906 was bigger! Very bad shock, sir! And big heathen idol in the temple fall down on top of the thathanabaing, that is Buddhist bishop, madam, which the Burmese say mean bad omen for failure of paddy crop and foot-and-mouth disease. Also in 1887 my first earthquake I remember, when I was a little chokra, and Major Maclagan sahib was lying under the table and promising he sign the
teetotal pledge tomorrow morning. He not know it was an earthquake. Also two cows was killed by falling roofs,’ etc. etc. The Europeans stayed in the Club till midnight, and the butler popped into the room as many as half a dozen times to relate a new anecdote. So far from snubbing him, the Europeans even encouraged him to talk. There is nothing like an earthquake for drawing people together. One more tremor, or perhaps two, and they would have asked the butler to sit down at table with them. Meanwhile, Flory’s proposal went no further. One cannot propose marriage immediately after an earthquake. In any case, he did not see Elizabeth alone for the rest of that evening. But it did not matter, he knew that she was his now. In the morning there would be time enough. On this thought, at peace in his mind and dog-tired after the long day, he went to bed.
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teetotal pledge tomorrow morning. He not know it was an earthquake. Also two cows was killed by<br />
falling roofs,’ etc. etc.<br />
The Europeans stayed in the Club till midnight, and the butler popped into the room as many as half<br />
a dozen times to relate a new anecdote. So far from snubbing him, the Europeans even encouraged<br />
him to talk. There is nothing like an earthquake for drawing people together. One more tremor, or<br />
perhaps two, and they would have asked the butler to sit down at table with them.<br />
Meanwhile, Flory’s proposal went no further. One cannot propose marriage immediately after an<br />
earthquake. In any case, he did not see Elizabeth alone for the rest of that evening. But it did not<br />
matter, he knew that she was his now. In the morning there would be time enough. On this thought, at<br />
peace in his mind and dog-tired after the long day, he went to bed.
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