large/6798/withturkspalestine_1301_librivox_64kb_mp3/withtheturksinpalestine_05_aaronsohn_64kb_39
large/6798/withturkspalestine_1301_librivox_64kb_mp3/withtheturksinpalestine_05_aaronsohn_64kb
English
6798
The second night, as I lay sleepless and desperate on the strip of dirty matting that served as bed, I heard a scratch scratching at the grated slit of a window, and presently a slender stick was inserted into the cell. I went over and shook it; some one at the other end was holding it firm. And then, a curious whispering sound began to come from the end of the stick. I put my ear down, and caught the voice of one of the men from our village. THE SECOND NIGHT AS I LAY SLEEPLESS AND DESPERATE ON THE STRIP OF DIRTY MATTING THAT SERVED AS BED I HEARD A SCRATCH SCRATCHING AT THE GRATED SLIT OF A WINDOW AND PRESENTLY A SLENDER STICK WAS INSERTED INTO THE CELL I WENT OVER IT AND SHOOK IT SOME ONE AT THE OTHER END WAS HOLDING IT FIRM AND THEN A CURIOUS WHISPERING SOUND BEGAN TO COME FROM THE END OF THE STICK I PUT MY EAR DOWN AND CAUGHT THE VOICE OF ONE OF THE MEN FROM OUR VILLAGE
ld never be broken, no matter how defenseless we were. Thus he, an old man, was encouraging me instead of receiving help from my youth and enthusiasm. At last we arrived at the prison and were locked into separate cells. That same night we were tortured with the _falagy_, or bastinado. The victim of this horrible punishment is trussed up, arms and legs, and thrown on his knees; then, on the bare soles of his feet a pliant green rod is brought down with all the force of a soldier's arm. The pain is exquisite; blood leaps out at the first cut, and strong men usually faint after thirty or forty strokes. Strange to say, the worst part of it is not the blow itself, but the whistling of the rod through the air as it rushes to its mark. The groans of my older comrades, whose gasps and prayers I could hear through the walls of the cell, helped me bear the agony until unconsciousness mercifully came to the rescue. For several days more we were kept in the prison, sick and broken with suffering. RMS AND THAT OUR SPIRIT COULD NEVER BE BROKEN NO MATTER HOW DEFENCELESS WE WERE THUS HE AN OLD MAN WAS ENCOURAGING ME INSTEAD OF RECEIVING HELP FROM MY YOUTH AND ENTHUSIASM AT LAST WE ARRIVED AT THE PRISON AND WE WERE LOCKED INTO SEPARATE CELLS THAT SAME NIGHT WE WERE TORTURED WITH THE FALAGY OR BASTINADO THE VICTIM OF THIS HORRIBLE PUNISHMENT IS TRUSSED UP ARMS AND LEGS AND THROWN ON HIS KNEES THEN ON THE BARE SOLES OF HIS FEET A PLIANT GREEN ROD IS BROUGHT DOWN WITH ALL THE FORCE OF A SOLDIER'S ARM THE PAIN IS EXQUISITE BLOOD LEAPS OUT AT THE FIRST CUT AND STRONG MEN USUALLY FAINT AFTER THIRTY OR FORTY STROKES STRANGE TO SAY THE WORST PART OF IT IS NOT THE BLOW ITSELF BUT THE WHISTLING OF THE ROD THROUGH THE AIR AS IT RUSHES TO ITS MARK GROANS OF MY OLDER COMRADES WHOSE GASPS AND PRAYERS I COULD HEAR THROUGH THE WALLS OF THE CELL HELPED ME BEAR THE AGONY UNTIL UNCONSCIOUSNESS MERCIFULLY CAME TO THE RESCUE FOR SEVERAL DAYS MORE WE WERE KEPT IN THE PRISON SICK AND BROKEN WITH SUFFERING
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