'Ram-ram, gents,' he said affably. 'Now, w'ot you've got to do is to tell me w'ot all this is about. W'ot are you doin' to my guv'nor? Don't you speak, sir!' he added in a hasty whisper. 'I don't really want to know nothing. You and me's got to get out o' this galley, thet's all. An' if we don't,' he continued philosophically, 'you'll 'ave to explain up top, and I kin listen then. Them kind o' words ain't no use down 'ere. Lem'me speak mine!'
With that he ceased sparring, walked two paces forwards in the water, put his hands in his trousers-pockets, and began on his lingo coolly--
'Dekko (look here), you want this âdmi (man) abhi (now), but you ain't goin' to get 'im. Tumhâra nahin (not yours). He's mine, mera âdmi (my man), sumjha? (do you understand?) If you want lurro (fight), come on. You shall 'ave a bellyful, an' there'll be a plenty on you to phânsi (hang). But w'ot I say is, don't be pârgul soors (foolish pigs). I don't do your bally 'ole temples any 'arm. It's "durm shaster ram-ram[[14]] an' hurry gunga," so far's I care. But this man's my guv'nor. You don't touch 'im. Kubhi nahin (never). I'm a nek âdmi, burra usseel (virtuous man, very gentle) w'en I'm took the right way; contrariwise I'm zulm an' ficker an' burra burra affut. Now you ask ole 'Oneyman if I ain't. 'E knows both sides o' Jân-Ali-shân, and 'e'll give 'is opinion, like the genl'eman 'e is.'
He paused, for an idea, a chance had suggested itself. Then at the top of his voice, with a devil-may-care lilt in it, he began--
'Click, click?
Like a monkey on a stick.'
The answer followed in a second. With rustlings and boundings the monkeys came to the rescue of the familiar voice; for the crowd behind, weary of being unable to see what was passing in front, turned instinctively to the new interest, and so, losing cohesion, the multitude lost unity of purpose also for the moment.
'Now's your time, sir,' shouted John Ellison; 'keep close to me!' Then with a wild yell of
'Clear the decks, comrades,'
he rushed head down at the fat stomach of the chief priest, bowled him over, and treating the rest as he would have treated a crush at football, found himself, with Chris at his heels, on the top of the steps almost before the crowd had realised what was happening.
'Pull up, sir,' he said, pausing breathlessly; 'never run a hinch more nor you can 'elp with niggers. An' they'll be all right now we're off them steps. I know 'em! As peaceable a lot as ever lived, if you don't touch their wimmin or their gods.'