A TRUE STORY

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXV, Issue 3262, 3 February 1931, Page 6

A TRUE STORY

PAYING A DEBT OF GRATITUDE.

REVENGE IS SWEET. Some years ago an Indian pedigree goat was imported into Barbados by the Imperial Commissioner of Agriculture. He was a tall handsome and hairy gentleman, with a most commanding, one might almost say, formidable brow,, but withal he was of pleasant, affable manners —as a rule. He was supplied with an attendant, a white-robed turbaned Mohammedan, whose duty it was to look thoroughly after Billy and his creature comforts during the voyage from India.. This man, (says "Overseas") was, unfortunately, of a somewhat morose nature, and whenever he passed Billy's pen he rapped him over the nose. Now, on board our goat was very popular, and most members of the crew and many of the passengers would speak to him in passing, rub his forehead or give him some dainty offering, and so his nose was always ready for a passer-by. Evidently persistent insult and unkindness on the part of his attendant frayed his amiable temper, and he must have been driven finally to conclude thai he had a debt of ingratitude as well as gratitute which demanded liquidation. It would appear that he had summed up a large number of small boys pretty accurately and kept tale of them in his mind.

One morning the ship had come to anchor in a port just before sunrise, and had swung round with her bows to the East. Up comes our Mohemmedan with his prayer carpet, which he spreads on the forecastle, and then goes down and makes obeisance to the rising sun as indicating Mecca, under the watchful eye of No. 2 on the bridge. Possibly in his hurry to get up to his devotions our turbaned friend was a bit slip-shod in performing his duties, and did not properly secure the door enclosing my Lord the Goat. Finding himself free to indulge a voyage old curiosity, for the crew were all too busy to attend to him, he wandered out of his pen and presently found a ladder leading to the poop. He had no doubt been pining for mountain air and light, and promptly scaled the heights. Gazing round, he quickly spied his ancient enemy, prostrate on his carpet, knees and forehead on the ground.

The sum total was ready in Billy's mind. The occasion was there, the one moment of a long, weary voyage of moments. The eye to grasp the situation and the mind to judge and order action were there also. One look was enough, and then with one leaping charge the highborn forehead reached the spot, and before No. 2, from his box seat in the drama, had time even to begin to smile, the Mohammedan was shot over the rails as from a catapult, and William was gazing down on the eddying water with a smile that suggested the German philosopher's conclusion: "dass kammt con dass."

Then whistle and scurry and down with the boat, and soon up with a dipping and aching attendant, who, says my informant, had the grace to mend his ways and no longer worry his noble charge, though it took time for him to walk and sit as though all were well with him.