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Updated: June 29, 2025
Give me clear water between bank and bank! It is I, Mother Gunga, that speak. The Justice of the Gods! Deal me the Justice of the Gods!" "What said I?" whispered Peroo. "This is in truth a Punchayet of the Gods. Now we know that all the world is dead, save you and I, Sahib." The Parrot screamed and fluttered again, and the Tigress, her ears flat to her head, snarled wickedly.
Peroo nodded with bright eyes. "In a little in a little the Sahib will find that he thinks well again. I too will " He dived into his treasure-box, resettled the rain-coat over his head, and squatted down to watch the boats. It was too dark now to see beyond the first pier, and the night seemed to have given the river new strength. Findlayson stood with his chin on his chest, thinking.
Give me clear water between bank and bank! It is I, Mother Gunga, that speak. The Justice of the Gods! Deal me the Justice of the Gods!" "What said I?" whispered Peroo. "This is in truth a Punchayet of the Gods. Now we know that all the world is dead, save you and I, Sahib." The Parrot screamed and fluttered again, and the Tigress, her ears flat to her head, snarled wickedly.
No piece of iron was so big or so badly placed that Peroo could not devise a tackle to lift it a loose-ended, sagging arrangement, rigged with a scandalous amount of talking, but perfectly equal to the work in hand.
"Peroo, thou hast been up and down the world more even than I. Speak true talk, now. How much dost thou in thy heart believe of Mother Gunga?" "All that our priest says. London is London, Sahib. Sydney is Sydney, and Port Darwin is Port Darwin. Also Mother Gunga is Mother Gunga, and when I come back to her banks I know this and worship.
"But suppose, for the sake of argyment as Shikspur says, that the stranger wos to ax ye wot ye know'd about Peroo, what 'ud ye say to that, lad?" asked Old Peter. "Wot would I say! Why, I'd ax him with a look of offended dignity if he took me for a schoolmaster, an' then may be I'd ax him wot he know'd about it himself an' krekt him av he wos wrong."
There is no eight-hour limit to an engineer's work, and the evening meal with Hitchcock was eaten booted and spurred: over their cigars they listened to the hum of the village as the gangs came up from the river-bed and the lights began to twinkle. "Peroo has gone up the spurs in your dinghy. He's taken a couple of nephews with him, and he's lolling in the stern like a commodore," said Hitchcock.
The gangs had spread themselves along the embankments, regardless of the cold rain of the dawn, and there they waited for the flood. Only Peroo kept his men together behind the swell of the guard-tower, where the stone-boats lay tied fore and aft with hawsers, wire-rope, and chains.
"I cast the death at them out of my nostrils, but they would not cease." Peroo would have moved, but the opium lay heavy upon him. "Bah!" he said, spitting. "Here is Sitala herself; Mata the small-pox. Has the Sahib a handkerchief to put over his face?" "Little help! They fed me the corpses for a month, and I flung them out on my sand-bars, but their work went forward.
He could not raise his head or stir a finger for the trance that held him, and Peroo was smiling vacantly at the lightning. The Bull paused by the shrine, his head lowered to the damp earth. A green Parrot in the branches preened his wet wings and screamed against the thunder as the circle under the tree filled with the shifting shadows of beasts.
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