We Were Very Nearly Dead, And Our Amusement Was A Childish Conversation
About The Good Things In England, And My Idea Of Perfect Happiness Was
An English Beefsteak And A Bottle Of Pale Ale; For Such A Luxury I Would
Most Willingly Have Sold My Birthright At That Hungry Moment.
We were
perfect skeletons, and it was annoying to see how we suffered upon the
bad fare, while our men apparently throve.
There were plenty of wild red
peppers, and the men seemed to enjoy a mixture of porridge and legumes a
la sauce piquante. They were astonished at my falling away on this food,
but they yielded to my argument when I suggested that a "lion would
starve where a donkey grew fat." I must confess that this state of
existence did not improve my temper, which, I fear, became nearly as
bitter as the porridge. My people had a windfall of luck, as Saat's ox,
that had lingered for a long time, lay down to die, and stretching
himself out, commenced kicking his last kick. The men immediately
assisted him by cutting his throat, and this supply of beef was a luxury
which, even in my hungry state, was not the English beefsteak for which
I sighed, and I declined the diseased bull.
The men made several long excursions through the country to purchase
provisions, but in two months they procured only two kids; the entire
country was deserted, owing to the war between Kamrasi and Fowooka.
Every day the boy Saat and the woman Bacheeta sallied out and conversed
with the inhabitants of the different islands on the river.
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