Lifes Handicap | Page 4

in Larut. The climate is warm and
remarkably like the climate o' Calcutta; and in regard to Calcutta, it
cannot have escaped your obsairvation that--'
'Calcutta isn't Larut; and we've only just come from it,' protested the
Man from Orizava. 'There's a meteorological department in Calcutta,
too.'
'Ay, but there's no meteorological department in Larut. Each man is a
law to himself. Some drink whisky, and some drink brandipanee, and
some drink cocktails--vara bad for the coats o' the stomach is a
cocktail-- and some drink sangaree, so I have been credibly informed;
but one and all they sweat like the packing of piston-head on a
fourrteen-days' voyage with the screw racing half her time. But, as I
was saying, the population o' Larut was five all told of English--that is
to say, Scotch--an' I'm Scotch, ye know,' said the Chief.
The Man from Orizava lit another cigarette, and waited patiently. It was
hopeless to hurry the Chief Engineer.
'I am not pretending to account for the population o' Larut being laid
down according to such fabulous dimensions. O' the five white men
engaged upon the extraction o' tin ore and mercantile pursuits, there
were three o' the sons o' Anak. Wait while I remember. Lammitter was
the first by two inches--a giant in the land, an' a terreefic man to cross
in his ways. From heel to head he was six feet nine inches, and
proportionately built across and through the thickness of his body. Six
good feet nine inches--an overbearin' man. Next to him, and I have
forgotten his precise business, was Sandy Vowle. And he was six feet
seven, but lean and lathy, and it was more in the elasteecity of his neck
that the height lay than in any honesty o' bone and sinew. Five feet and
a few odd inches may have been his real height. The remainder came
out when he held up his head, and six feet seven he was upon the
door-sills. I took his measure in chalk standin' on a chair. And next to
him, but a proportionately made man, ruddy and of a fair countenance,
was Jock Coan--that they called the Fir Cone. He was but six feet five,
and a child beside Lammitter and Vowle. When the three walked out
together, they made a scunner run through the colony o' Larut. The
Malays ran round them as though they had been the giant trees in the
Yosemite Valley--these three Lang Men o' Larut. It was perfectly
ridiculous--a lusus naturae--that one little place should have contained

maybe the three tallest ordinar' men upon the face o' the earth.
'Obsairve now the order o' things. For it led to the finest big drink in
Larut, and six sore heads the morn that endured for a week. I am
against immoderate liquor, but the event to follow was a justification.
You must understand that many coasting steamers call at Larut wi'
strangers o' the mercantile profession. In the spring time, when the
young cocoanuts were ripening, and the trees o' the forests were putting
forth their leaves, there came an American man to Larut, and he was six
foot three, or it may have been four, in his stockings. He came on
business from Sacramento, but he stayed for pleasure wi' the Lang Men
o' Larut. Less than, a half o' the population were ordinar' in their girth
and stature, ye will understand--Howson and Nailor, merchants, five
feet nine or thereabouts. He had business with those two, and he stood
above them from the six feet threedom o' his height till they went to
drink. In the course o' conversation he said, as tall men will, things
about his height, and the trouble of it to him. That was his pride o' the
flesh.
'"As the longest man in the island--" he said, but there they took him up
and asked if he were sure.
'"I say I am the longest man in the island," he said, "and on that I'll bet
my substance."
'They laid down the bed-plates of a big drink then and there, and put it
aside while they called Jock Coan from his house, near by among the
fireflies' winking.
'"How's a' wi' you?" said Jock, and came in by the side o' the
Sacramento profligate, two inches, or it may have been one, taller than
he.
'"You're long," said the man, opening his eyes. "But I am longer." An'
they sent a whistle through the night an' howkit out Sandy Vowle from
his bit bungalow, and he came in an' stood by the side o' Jock, an' the
pair just fillit the room to the ceiling-cloth.
'The Sacramento man was a euchre-player and a most profane sweerer.
"You hold both Bowers," he said, "but the Joker is with