He was called, I remember Dowse saying now, an Orange-Lord, on account of his habits. You've heard of an Orange-Lord, sir?'
'Orang-Laut?' I suggested.
'That's the name,' said Fenwick, smacking his knee. 'An Orang-Laut, of course, and his name was Challong; what they call a sea-gypsy. Dowse told me that that man, long hair and all, would go swimming up and down the straits just for something to do; running down on one side and back with the other, swimming side-stroke, and the tides going tremenjous strong. Elseways he'd be skipping about the beach along with the tigers at low tide, for he was most part a beast; or he'd sit in a little boat praying to old Loby Toby of an evening when the volcano was spitting red at the south end of the strait. Dowse told me that he wasn't a companionable man, like you and me might have been to Dowse.
(The Disturber of Traffic)
|Tree-lichens in the orchard at Batemans (February 4th, 2017)|
|some sort of anemone (February 4th, 2017)|
|Batemans, a 17th-century merchant's house in a mill-valley below Burwash (February 4th, 2017)|
|Early-flowering Pulmonaria (February 4th, 2017)|
|Skimmia japonica 'Rubella'|
Labels: Rudyard Kipling