563296589345
‘Ah well. Let’s hope they’ll have the guts to show a bit of fight for once. Then we’ll call out the Military Police, rifles and all. Plug a few dozen of ’em–that’ll clear the air.’ However, the hoped-for opportunity did not come. Westfield and the dozen constables he had taken with him to Thongwa–jolly round-faced Gurkha boys, pining to use their kukris on somebody-found the district depress ingly peaceful. There seemed not the ghost of a rebellion anywhere; only the annual attempt, as regular as the monsoon, of the villagers to avoid paying the capitation tax. The weather was growing hotter and hotter. Elizabeth had had her first attack of prickly heat. Tennis at the Club had practically ceased; people would play one languid set and then fall into chairs and swallow pints of tepid lime-juice–tepid, because the ice came only twice weekly from Mandalay and melted within twenty-four hours of arriving. The Flame of the Forest was in full bloom. The Burmese women, to protect their children from the sun, streaked their faces with yellow cosmetic until they looked like little African witch doctors. Flocks of green pigeons, and imperial pigeons as large as ducks, came to eat the berries of the big peepul trees along the bazaar road. Meanwhile, Flory had turned Ma Hla May out of his house. A nasty, dirty job! There was a sufficient pretext–she had stolen his gold cigarette-case and pawned it at the house of Li Yeik, the Chinese grocer and illicit pawnbroker in the bazaar–but still, it was only a pretext. Flory knew perfectly well, and Ma Hla May knew, and all the servants knew, that he was getting rid of her because of Elizabeth. Because of ‘the Ingaleikma with dyed hair’, as Ma Hla May called her. Ma Hla May made no violent scene at first. She stood sullenly listening while he wrote her a cheque for a hundred rupees–Li Yeik or the Indian chetty in the bazaar would cash cheques–and told her that she was dismissed. He was more ashamed than she; he could not look her in the face, and his voice went flat and guilty. When the bullock cart came for her belongings he shut himself in the bedroom, skulking till the scene should be over. Cartwheels grated on the drive, there was the sound of men shouting; then suddenly there was a fearful uproar of screams. Flory went outside. They were all struggling round the gate in the sunlight. Ma Hla May was clinging to the gatepost and Ko S’la was trying to bundle her out. She turned a face full of fury and despair towards Flory, screaming over and over, ‘Thakin! Thakin! Thakin! Thakin! Thakin!’ It hurt him to the heart that she should still call him thakin after he had dismissed her. ‘What is it?’ he said. It appeared that there was a switch of false hair that Ma Hla May and Ma Yi both claimed. Flory gave the switch to Ma Yi and gave Ma Hla May two rupees to compensate her. Then the cart jolted away, with Ma Hla May sitting beside her two wicker baskets, straight-backed and sullen, and nursing a kitten on her knees. It was only two months since he had given her the kitten as a present. Ko S’la, who had long wished for Ma Hla May’s removal, was not altogether pleased now that it had happened. He was even less pleased when he saw his master going to church–or as he called it, to the ‘English pagoda’–for Flory was still in Kyauktada on the Sunday of the padre’s arrival, and he went to church with the others. There was a congregation of twelve, including Mr Francis, Mr Samuel and six native Christians, with Mrs Lackersteen playing ‘Abide with Me’ on the tiny harmonium with one game pedal. It was the first time in ten years that Flory had been to church, except to funerals. Ko
S’la’s notions of what went on in the ‘English pagoda’ were vague in the extreme; but he did know that church-going signified respectability–a quality which, like all bachelors’ servants, he hated in his bones. ‘There is trouble coming,’ he said despondently to the other servants. ‘I have been watching him’ (he meant Flory) ‘these ten days past. He has cut down his cigarettes to fifteen a day, he has stopped drinking gin before breakfast, he shaves himself every evening–though he thinks I do not know it, the fool. And he has ordered half a dozen new silk shirts! I had to stand over the dirzi railing him bahinchut to get them finished in time. Evil omens! I give him three months longer, and then good-bye to the peace in this house!’ ‘What, is he going to get married?’ said Ba Pe. ‘I am certain of it. When a white man begins going to the English pagoda, it is, as you might say, the beginning of the end.’ ‘I have had many masters in my life,’ old Sammy said. ‘The worst was Colonel Wimpole sahib, who used to make his orderly hold me down over the table while he came running from behind and kicked me with very thick boots for serving banana fritters too frequently. At other times, when he was drunk, he would fire his revolver through the roof of the servants’ quarters, just above our heads. But I would sooner serve ten years under Colonel Wimpole sahib than a week under a memsahib with her kit-kit. If our master marries I shall leave the same day.’ ‘I shall not leave, for I have been his servant fifteen years. But I know what is in store for us when that woman comes. She will shout at us because of spots of dust on the furniture, and wake us up to bring cups of tea in the afternoon when we are asleep, and come poking into the cookhouse at all hours and complain over dirty saucepans and cockroaches in the flour bin. It is my belief that these women lie awake at nights thinking of new ways to torment their servants.’ ‘They keep a little red book,’ said Sammy, ‘in which they enter the bazaar-money, two annas for this, four annas for that, so that a man cannot earn a pice. They make more kit-kit over the price of an onion than a sahib over five rupees.’ ‘Ah, do I not know it! She will be worse than Ma Hla May. Women!’ he added comprehensively, with a kind of sigh. The sigh was echoed by the others, even by Ma Pu and Ma Yi. Neither took Ko S’la’s remarks as a stricture upon her own sex, Englishwomen being considered a race apart, possibly not even human, and so dreaded that an Englishman’s marriage is usually the signal for the flight of every servant in his house, even those who have been with him for years.
- Page 29 and 30: Mrs Lackersteen, unequal to the qua
- Page 31 and 32: ‘Our burra sahib at Mandalay alwa
- Page 33 and 34: glare sent a weariness through one
- Page 35 and 36: It was a joke between the two men t
- Page 37 and 38: various industries. Where are the I
- Page 39 and 40: efore this cursed sun gets too high
- Page 41 and 42: ‘Yes, I heard that. We hear all t
- Page 43 and 44: Ko S’la put the tea-tray down on
- Page 45 and 46: her, because of its strangeness and
- Page 47 and 48: Flory got out of the water, put on
- Page 49 and 50: V In spite of the whisky he had dru
- Page 51 and 52: school. In his last term he and ano
- Page 53 and 54: imperialism in which he lived. For
- Page 55 and 56: streaming egrets-were more native t
- Page 57 and 58: ‘No.’ ‘You have been in priso
- Page 59 and 60: (Signed) A FRIEND. The letter was w
- Page 61 and 62: did not think she could be much pas
- Page 63 and 64: ‘What it means to meet somebody w
- Page 65 and 66: VII Elizabeth lay on the sofa in th
- Page 67 and 68: ‘school’ where she produced gre
- Page 69 and 70: of the bow was like a moving arrowh
- Page 71 and 72: ‘And oh, aunt, such an interestin
- Page 73 and 74: there would be a scandal when they
- Page 75 and 76: grotesque, it’s even ugly, with a
- Page 77 and 78: sahib’. Mr Macgregor made a very
- Page 79: IX During the next fortnight a grea
- Page 83 and 84: He was anything but tactful with he
- Page 85 and 86: ‘Thanks, I’ll remember about th
- Page 87 and 88: example-she seemed to have an enthu
- Page 89 and 90: ‘Oh, it’s all right, they’ll
- Page 91 and 92: girls wear broad brass rings to str
- Page 93 and 94: They walked up the road, he to the
- Page 95 and 96: murder by poison, murder by sympath
- Page 97 and 98: Thongwa to rebel, and then I arrest
- Page 99 and 100: ‘Do you not see, woman? Do you no
- Page 101 and 102: operations. ‘Belly-cutting’ was
- Page 103 and 104: ‘Ah, I have a few friends left. B
- Page 105 and 106: shoulder. Flory walked into the hou
- Page 107 and 108: Instantly she cried out in renewed
- Page 109 and 110: naked boy was standing between two
- Page 111 and 112: were tattooed with dark blue patter
- Page 113 and 114: As they were walking to the fifth b
- Page 115 and 116: ‘Oh, do let’s! Oh, what awful f
- Page 117 and 118: stroked his beautiful white belly,
- Page 119 and 120: morning when he met her, and the si
- Page 121 and 122: to marry him? He was being so slow
- Page 123 and 124: teetotal pledge tomorrow morning. H
- Page 125 and 126: ‘I’m afraid you won’t get any
- Page 127 and 128: to his feet. He was badly bruised,
- Page 129 and 130: ‘Oh, shut up! I’m sick of the s
‘Ah well. Let’s hope they’ll have the guts to show a bit of fight for once. Then we’ll call out the<br />
Military Police, rifles and all. Plug a few dozen of ’em–that’ll clear the air.’<br />
However, the hoped-for opportunity did not come. Westfield and the dozen constables he had taken<br />
with him to Thongwa–jolly round-faced Gurkha boys, pining to use their kukris on somebody-found<br />
the district depress ingly peaceful. There seemed not the ghost of a rebellion anywhere; only the<br />
annual attempt, as regular as the monsoon, of the villagers to avoid paying the capitation tax.<br />
The weather was growing hotter and hotter. Elizabeth had had her first attack of prickly heat.<br />
Tennis at the Club had practically ceased; people would play one languid set and then fall into chairs<br />
and swallow pints of tepid lime-juice–tepid, because the ice came only twice weekly from Mandalay<br />
and melted within twenty-four hours of arriving. The Flame of the Forest was in full bloom. The<br />
Burmese women, to protect their children from the sun, streaked their faces with yellow cosmetic<br />
until they looked like little African witch doctors. Flocks of green pigeons, and imperial pigeons as<br />
large as ducks, came to eat the berries of the big peepul trees along the bazaar road.<br />
Meanwhile, Flory had turned Ma Hla May out of his house.<br />
A nasty, dirty job! There was a sufficient pretext–she had stolen his gold cigarette-case and<br />
pawned it at the house of Li Yeik, the Chinese grocer and illicit pawnbroker in the bazaar–but still, it<br />
was only a pretext. Flory knew perfectly well, and Ma Hla May knew, and all the servants knew, that<br />
he was getting rid of her because of Elizabeth. Because of ‘the Ingaleikma with dyed hair’, as Ma Hla<br />
May called her.<br />
Ma Hla May made no violent scene at first. She stood sullenly listening while he wrote her a<br />
cheque for a hundred rupees–Li Yeik or the Indian chetty in the bazaar would cash cheques–and told<br />
her that she was dismissed. He was more ashamed than she; he could not look her in the face, and his<br />
voice went flat and guilty. When the bullock cart came for her belongings he shut himself in the<br />
bedroom, skulking till the scene should be over.<br />
Cartwheels grated on the drive, there was the sound of men shouting; then suddenly there was a<br />
fearful uproar of screams. Flory went outside. They were all struggling round the gate in the sunlight.<br />
Ma Hla May was clinging to the gatepost and Ko S’la was trying to bundle her out. She turned a face<br />
full of fury and despair towards Flory, screaming over and over, ‘Thakin! Thakin! Thakin! Thakin!<br />
Thakin!’ It hurt him to the heart that she should still call him thakin after he had dismissed her.<br />
‘What is it?’ he said.<br />
It appeared that there was a switch of false hair that Ma Hla May and Ma Yi both claimed. Flory<br />
gave the switch to Ma Yi and gave Ma Hla May two rupees to compensate her. Then the cart jolted<br />
away, with Ma Hla May sitting beside her two wicker baskets, straight-backed and sullen, and<br />
nursing a kitten on her knees. It was only two months since he had given her the kitten as a present.<br />
Ko S’la, who had long wished for Ma Hla May’s removal, was not altogether pleased now that it<br />
had happened. He was even less pleased when he saw his master going to church–or as he called it,<br />
to the ‘English pagoda’–for Flory was still in Kyauktada on the Sunday of the padre’s arrival, and he<br />
went to church with the others. There was a congregation of twelve, including Mr Francis, Mr Samuel<br />
and six native Christians, with Mrs Lackersteen playing ‘Abide with Me’ on the tiny harmonium with<br />
one game pedal. It was the first time in ten years that Flory had been to church, except to funerals. Ko