Driftwood Spars | Page 2

of
comfortable fat and was bred to such climatic trifles. He, moreover,
knew not fever, and, unlike me, had not experienced dysentery, malaria,
enteric and pneumonia fairly recently.
"And had the hand of your brother anything to do with the little drops
of water that made Ibrahim the Weeper so blind?" I asked.
"Something, Sahib," replied Mir Daoud Khan with a laugh, "but the
hand of Allah had more than that of my brother. It is a strange story.
True stories are sometimes far stranger than those of the bazaar
tale-tellers whose trade it is to invent or remember wondrous tales and
stories, myths, and legends."
"We have a proverb to that effect, Mir Saheb. Let us sit in the shelter of
this rock and you shall tell me the story. Our eyes can work while
tongue and ear play--or would you sleep?"

"Nahin, Sahib! Am I a Sahib that I should regard night as the time
wholly sacred to sleep and day as the time when to sleep is sin? I will
tell the Sahib the tale of the Blindness of Ibrahim Mahmud the Weeper,
well knowing that he, a truth-speaker, will believe the truth spoken by
his servant. To no liar would it seem possible.
"Know then, Sahib, that this brother of mine was not my mother's son,
though the son of my father (Mir Hafiz Ullah Khan Mir Faquir
Mahommed Afzul Khan), who was the youngest son of His Highness
the Jam Saheb of Mekran Kot in Kubristan. And he, my father, was a
great traveller, a restless wanderer, and crossed the Black Water many
times. To Englistan he went, and without crossing water he also went to
the capital of the Amir of Russia to say certain things, quietly, from the
King of Islam, the Amir of Afghanistan. To where the big Waler horses
come from he also went, and to where they take the camels for use in
the hot and sandy northern parts."
"Yes, Australia" I remarked.
"Without doubt, if the Sahib be pleased to say it. And there, having
taken many camels in a ship that he might sell them at a profit, he
wedded a white woman--a woman of the race of the Highland soldiers
of Englistan, such as are in this very Brigade."
"Married a Scotchwoman?"
"Without doubt. Of a low caste--her father being a drunkard and
landless (though grandson of a Lord Sahib), living by horses and
camels menially, out-casted, a jail-bird. Formerly he had carried the
mail through the desert, a fine rider and brave man, but sharab[1] had
loosened the thigh in the saddle and palsied hand and eye. On hearing
this news, the Jam Saheb was exceeding wroth, for he had planned a
good marriage for his son, and he arranged that the woman should die
if my father, on whom be Peace, brought her to Mekran Kot. 'Tis but
desert and mountain, Sahib, with a few big jagirs[2] and some villages,
a good fort, a crumbling tower, and a town on the Caravan Road--but
the Jam Saheb's words are clearly heard and for many miles.

[1] Wine. [2] Estates.
"Our father, however, was not so foolish as to bring the woman to his
home, for he knew that Pathan horse-dealers, camel-men, and traders
would have taken the truth, and more than the truth, concerning the
woman's social position to the gossips of Mekran Kot. And, apart from
the fact that her father was a drunkard, landless, a jail-bird, out-casted
by his caste-fellows, no father loves to see his son marry with a woman
of another community, nor with any woman but her with whose father
he has made his arrangements.
"So my father, bringing the fair woman, his wife, by ship to Karachi,
travelled by the rêlwêy terain to Kot Ghazi and left her there in India,
where she would be safe. There he left her with her butcha,[3] my
half-brother, and journeyed toward the setting sun to look upon the face
of his father the Jam Saheb. And the Jam Saheb long turned his face
from him and would not look upon him nor give him his blessing--and
only relented when my father took to himself another wife, my mother,
the lady of noble birth whom the Jam Saheb had desired for him--and
sojourned for a season at Mekran Kot. But after I was born of this
union (I am of pure and noble descent) his heart wearied, being with
the fair woman at Kot Ghazi, for whom he yearned, and with her son,
his own son, yet so white of skin, so blue of eye, the fairest child who
ever had a Pathan father. Yea, my brother was even fairer than I, who,
as the Huzoor knoweth, have grey eyes, and hair and beard that are