Читать книгу Wang the Ninth - B. L. Putnam Weale - Страница 9

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Ever after that incident the world seemed different. The ugly, independent child, accustomed to the rigours of the daily struggle for existence—all the acerbities of a life so close to Nature that the people seemed to lie on our great universal mother's very bosom—this child understood in a flash that somehow it was not so with everybody. There were people who were rich; people who did not have to toil and moil—people who lived in plenty. He himself had been sufficiently strong to survive without trouble; but around him were spiritless children for ever whining and starving—breaking down and dying before the obstacles of life. This little world of elementary beings, living on the tide of life sweeping in and out of the city gate, had been his only lexicon; now he understood that there were other books.

From that day also the vague background of fear in which foreigners had stood suddenly disappeared. It was replaced by an all-consuming curiosity.

He never ceased asking questions regarding them, "the devils," as he still called them from force of habit. Were there many of them in the city—how did they live—why had they wealth—were there no poor ones among them?—these were some of the things he asked.

By dint of questioning, he slowly built up a sort of picture which was still like a dream. He was told that there were a hundred or two of them in the city and that they came from over the seas in vessels driven by steam, fire-wheel vessels they were called in the vernacular. He learnt the expression without knowing what it really signified, until one day he saw a rude native print of a sea-battle being sold by a pedlar who told him that these were illustrations of the foreign ships.

His interest was such that he stood in front of the man for ever so long. He memorized the outlines so well that he was soon able to draw in the dust a fire-wheel ship with a stone, which was so amazingly accurate that a number of passers-by commended him for his talent. The huge man with the yellow beard had come on one such as these, he thought to himself; these ships travelled hundreds of thousands of li, the pedlar had said. They often consumed a year in their voyages, and they could slay enormous numbers of people with their cannon which blazed forth their wrath if any one opposed them. In this twisted manner did the story of high sea navigation reach him.

These details delighted him and filled him with amazement. The power and novelty of it all enchained him and filled his brain. Sometimes, when he had swung himself up into a tree after a bird, he would fall into a day-dream, and sitting astride of a branch, would wonder if it would not be possible for him to get closer to these men and their many inventions. He would like to see their cannon exploding in wrath, and destroying every one so that the waters were filled with struggling beings as in the pedlar's print; it would be a spectacle worthy of being looked upon. Then, presently, he would turn his thoughts to silver and to a stream of coins. The coins would come like hail in his day-dream, and he would pick them up and buy everything that his heart hungered for,—singing-birds and sweetmeats and a cap with a long red tassel, not to speak of much mutton from the Mohammedan mutton-shops.

Once he started out to try and reach the foreign quarter in the city; but after a few miles the immensity of the great capital frightened him and he ran back home. His father cursed him for playing truant in this way, saying ruefully to the neighbours as he had already said many times: "This boy's courage is too great. His courage is a sad thing."

This censure, however, did not dishearten him. It merely instilled in him greater caution and redoubled his desire to carry out one day his great plan.

He was always watching for foreigners coming out of the city; whenever he detected one in the stream of traffic which was not often, he would follow as fast as his legs could run. But all the neighbourhood had heard of his good fortune, and many urchins imitated him. The foreigners were only irritated by these unaccustomed attentions and instead of giving money shook their whips at the pack at their heels and rode quickly away. Evidently there were limitations to their riches, the boy thought, or else their good-nature was hard to reach. In any case of silver dollars there was never a trace. Perhaps it needed something striking to attract their attention.

He reasoned this out by himself and determined to test it. He had stored away in secret hiding-places various treasures, such as birds and lizards and other delectable things; and now he set to work making attractive receptacles in which to place them. He stole empty tins from men who were careless, and with the aid of his father's tools made numerous holes so that his prey could be put inside and fed and properly exhibited. Soon he had a regular menagerie, properly housed. Then on the weekly holiday, on which the foreigners were apt to come out of the city, he disappeared far down the highway, going miles beyond the beat of every child in the neighbourhood, until he was lost in the country. Alone with his treasures he sat patiently waiting.

In the middle of the day he saw the first foreigners; they were in hooded carts, men and women together with servants accompanying them. As soon as the carts approached he dashed up, exhibiting what he had and offering his captives for sale. Something in his eagerness and in his strange wares evidently amused them. They called to one another laughingly and shook their heads. One more generous than the others threw a handful of cash on the ground.

When they had gone he carefully picked up every coin and counted them. It was not wonderful as a sum of money. Still it was something. The silver dollar, however, remained unapproachable in its especial niche....