Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, August 1921 · page 43 of 68
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #23 — page 43: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains a narrative poem—not a cartoon—depicting a revenge tragedy with drug addiction themes. The unnamed narrator recounts marrying a noble woman at the Panama Canal (Gatun dam), whose murder by an unnamed villain drives him to a two-year manhunt across Central American terrain. He achieves vengeance but is left psychologically destroyed. The final stanza reveals the poem's darker point: the narrator has become addicted to morphine ("Miss Morphine"), using it to suppress traumatic memories and hallucinations ("things that come and stare at night"). The bitter conclusion suggests drug addiction, while worse than alcohol, at least provides escape from psychological torment. This reflects post-WWI anxieties about veteran trauma, morphine addiction, and moral corruption—common satirical subjects in 1920s American humor magazines. The tone is melodramatic rather than comedic.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang 41 Alone on a hot flea ridden cot, I was down with the yellow jack Alone in the bush and damned near dead- She found me and brought me back. In her eyes shone lights of empires gone, For her's was the blood of kings- When she spoke her voice inspired high thoughts, And dreams of nobler things. We were spliced in a Yankee meeting house In the land of your Uncle Sam, And I drew my pay from the U. S. A. For I worked on the Gatun dam. Then the devil sent his right hand man, I might have suspected he would, And he took her life with a long, thin knife; Because-she was pure and good. Within me died hope, honor, pride. And all but a primitive will To hound him down on his blood red trail And find, and kill and kill! O'er chicle camps and logwood swamps, I hunted him many a moon Then found my man in a long pit pan, At the edge of a blue lagoon. The chase was o'er at the farther shore, It ended a two years quest And I left him there with an empty stare And a knife stuck in his chest. You see those marks upon my arm? You wonder what they mean? Those marks were left by fingers deft Of my trained nurse, Miss Morphine. You say that habit's worse than rum. It's possible too you are right, But at least it drives away the things; That come and stare at night.