DOI Artikel:
Buchan, John: A captain of salvation
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27811#0161
By John Buchan
holy sight of the place in the morning ? It was worth it, though
we got the sack for it, old man/'
The Captain made no answer. He was muttering some-
thing to himself. It might have been a prayer.
" And then there was that time when we were up country in
Queensland, sugar farming in the bush, thinking a billy of tea the
best thing on earth, and like to faint with the work and the heat.
But, Jove, wasn't it fine to head ofP the cattle when you knew you
might have a big bull's horn in your side every minute ? And then
at night to sit outside the huts and smoke pig-tail and tell stories
that would make your hair rise ! We were a queer lot, Jack, but
we were men, do you hear ? "
A flood of recollection came over the Captain, vehement, all-
powerful. He felt the magic of the East, the wonder of the South,
the glory of the North burning in his heart. The old wild voices
were calling him, voices of land and sea, the tongues of the moon
and the stars and the beasts of the field, the halcyon voices of
paganism and nature which are still strong in the earth. Behind
him rose the irregular notes of the hymn ; at his side was the
tempter, and in his own heart was the prince of the world, the
master of pleasure, the great juggler of pain. In that man there
was being fought the old fight, which began in the Garden, and
will never end, the struggle between the hateful right and the
delicious wrong.
" Oh man, come with me," cried Hilton, " I've got a berth down
there in a ship which sails to-morrow, and we'll go out to our old
place, where they'll be glad to get us, and we'll have a devilish good
time. I can't be staying here, with muggy stinks, and white-
faced people, and preaching and praying, and sloppy weather.
Come on, and in a month we'll be seeing the old Coal-sack above
us, and smelling the palms and the sea-water ; and then, after that,
there'll
holy sight of the place in the morning ? It was worth it, though
we got the sack for it, old man/'
The Captain made no answer. He was muttering some-
thing to himself. It might have been a prayer.
" And then there was that time when we were up country in
Queensland, sugar farming in the bush, thinking a billy of tea the
best thing on earth, and like to faint with the work and the heat.
But, Jove, wasn't it fine to head ofP the cattle when you knew you
might have a big bull's horn in your side every minute ? And then
at night to sit outside the huts and smoke pig-tail and tell stories
that would make your hair rise ! We were a queer lot, Jack, but
we were men, do you hear ? "
A flood of recollection came over the Captain, vehement, all-
powerful. He felt the magic of the East, the wonder of the South,
the glory of the North burning in his heart. The old wild voices
were calling him, voices of land and sea, the tongues of the moon
and the stars and the beasts of the field, the halcyon voices of
paganism and nature which are still strong in the earth. Behind
him rose the irregular notes of the hymn ; at his side was the
tempter, and in his own heart was the prince of the world, the
master of pleasure, the great juggler of pain. In that man there
was being fought the old fight, which began in the Garden, and
will never end, the struggle between the hateful right and the
delicious wrong.
" Oh man, come with me," cried Hilton, " I've got a berth down
there in a ship which sails to-morrow, and we'll go out to our old
place, where they'll be glad to get us, and we'll have a devilish good
time. I can't be staying here, with muggy stinks, and white-
faced people, and preaching and praying, and sloppy weather.
Come on, and in a month we'll be seeing the old Coal-sack above
us, and smelling the palms and the sea-water ; and then, after that,
there'll