When the Red Gods Call (Classic Reprint) - Tapa blanda

Excerpt from When the Red Gods Call

Port Moresby is out of sight round the corner half a dozen tin bungalows with stilty legs and big verandas, offices, some of them, a store or two, a house or two - that is all. And here, on the grass below the capitol, stands the jail, my home.

Who and what am I, and Why am I here? A page copied out of Wilks' rough-and-ready prison register will answer. I'm not a young lady in a novel, so I can not very well describe myself, but I think Wilks has done it accurately enough.

Lynch, Hugh. White. Age 31. National ity, Irish. Crime, manslaughter. Sentence, two years.

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Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com

This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

Excerpt from When the Red Gods Call

I am writing this in prison.

I don't know that anyone will ever read it, but if anyone ever should, he need not picture to himself a cell in Portland or Wormwood Scrubbs, with a gas jet, and a Bible, and a spy-hole in the door, and a warder walking up and down outside. It is a very different sort of prison that holds me, Hugh Lynch - thirty-one years of age, and good for nothing any more - this dead, damp, choking-hot "northwestern" afternoon. The walls are corrugated iron, whitewashed, and very clean; there is a sleeping mat on the floor, and a pillow and a box and a tin basin. The window is an open shutter, looking out to sea. I could break through it, or the floor, with a penknife, any night - supposing Wilks, the jailer, had not left the door open, as he generally does. Wilks is lazy, and does not much like the bother of having a white prisoner; he put me on parole the first day I was here, so that he should not be troubled to look after me. A cheap parole, truly!

About the Publisher

Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com

This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.