The Wasp, 1918 · page 49 of 330
The Wasp — 1918 — page 49: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains **narrative fiction rather than a political cartoon**—it's prose from a serialized story in the satirical magazine *The Wasp*. The text depicts a scene aboard a ship where a prisoner named James Burnham, shackled in the brig after being struck by an officer, encounters Henry Todd, the ship's boy. The passage characterizes Burnham as a hardened man incapable of pity, even when witnessing the boy's mistreatment by the crew (cook, shipmaster, mates). Without additional context or visible illustrations on this page, the specific satirical point remains unclear. However, the narrative's focus on shipboard brutality and a callous protagonist suggests the story may be critiquing maritime labor conditions or class exploitation—themes common to 19th-century American satire. The magazine's name indicates this likely contained social commentary, but this particular excerpt functions as straightforward dramatic storytelling.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
40 ss THE WASP He surmised, correctly enough, that the blow had been delivered by one of the brig’s - officers. He looked around for some means of quenching | his thirst, but could see nothing in the forecastle that promised relief. He turned his attention to his irons. He was shackled at the ankles only, and was not chained to ne deck or frame of the brig.. : He crawled to the foot of the Bok: which led up to the open hatch and was about to ascend it when a shadow fell upon the rounds above him. He looked up, at the same time shrinking aside from the foot of the ladder, and saw a small, ragged figure slip over the coaming of the hatch and commence a slow and halting descent. The visitor was Henry Todd, the ship’s boy. Burnham had noticed him about the deck the day before—a skulking, frightened lad of fifteen or sixteen years, thin and colourless, and bruised about the face and naked shins. He had been Interested in this forlorn creature, but had felt no pity. Suffering never inspired pity in James Burnham’s breast. He had seen the lad flinch at a word from the black cook, cringe at a glance from the shipmaster,.and start in terror at a curse _ from one of the mates; and so, in a spirit of icomichooks:comys