He had visited his displeasure upon
the foremen. After his interview with Desmond he summoned them to his
presence and threatened them with such dire punishment if the work was
not more rapidly pushed on, that they had used the lash more furiously
and with even less discrimination than ever. Consequently when Desmond
met his companions in the shed at night he found them all in desperate
indignation and rage. He had seen nothing more of Diggle; he must strike
while the iron was hot.
When they were locked in, and all was quiet outside, the prisoners gave
vent, each in his own way, to their feelings. For a time Desmond
listened, taking no part in their lamentation and cursing. But when the
tide of impotent fury ebbed, and there was a lull, he said quietly:
"Are my brothers dogs that, suffering these things, they merely whine?"
The quiet level tones, so strangely contrasting with the tones of
fierceness and hate that were still ringing in the ears of the unhappy
prisoners, had an extraordinary effect. There was dead silence in the
shed: it seemed that every man was afraid to speak. Then one of the
Marathas said in a whisper:
"What do you mean, sahib?"
"What do I mean? Surely it must be clear to any man. Have we not sat long
enough on the carpet of patience?"
Again the silence remained for a space unbroken.
"You, Gulam Mahomed," continued Desmond, addressing one of the Biluchis
whom he considered the boldest--"have you never thought of escape?"
"Allah knows!" said the man in an undertone.
Pages:
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182