Then, scarcely deigning to cast a look at the astonished crowd, he called loudly to his men: 'Let go!'
But a new feeling seemed to possess the passengers, that of shame and contrition at their own inhumanity. With a common impulse each seized his own baggage, and went in a shamefaced way on board the boat.
In a short time a message was sent to the captain, asking his presence in the cabin. He went, and one of the passengers, speaking for the rest, with faltering voice told the rough captain that he had taught them a lesson--that they felt humble before him, and they asked his forgiveness.
Buttercups and daisies, Violets and May, Pimpernels and cowslips, Make a sweet bouquet. Not a rose among them; Nought the garden yields. Yet a lot of beauty Taken from the fields, Gathered in the sunshine, Through the happy hours-- What a sweet bouquet, dears, Made of simple flowers!
Patience and forgiveness, Kindness to the weak; Willing in our labour All the happy week; No exalted actions Striving after praise, Yet a lot of beauty From life's lowly ways, Gathered through the day, dear, By the heart that heeds-- What a sweet bouquet, dear! Made of simple deeds.
The moonlight lay in soft brilliance over the land of Burmah. Its rays pierced the small slit windows in the cell of the fanatic An-we-lota, and lighted up the fierce faces of the dacoits and desperate men, who from time to time stealthily entered, until a close-packed band had collected. Near and far a message had reached these malcontents that an attack would be made on some of the British outposts scattered here and there over the newly conquered territory, and held by English officers and a brave force of Sikhs and Pathans.
'We are as nothing,' said An-we-lota; 'these Ingalay' (Englishmen) 'have taken our country, and are now setting up their camps everywhere among us, for these men to spy on us. They say the glorious King Theebaw is dead. Know we not well that he will come again and reign over us? I am myself possessed of magic power. I have swallowed the all-powerful mercury, which makes me proof against bullet and steel, which turn to water as they touch me. Have I not also the coins of invulnerability bound in the flesh and blood of my arm?' and the fanatic stripped up the sleeve of his yellow robe and showed his bare, skinny upper arm, where the edges of buried coins were visible in deep cuts. 'I am king as well as priest; I am the Prince Setkia Muntna, who was drowned in the Irrawaddy seventy years ago. I have come to life again--behold, I am he.'