Explore "Scapegoats of the Empire" by Lieut. George R. Witton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
November and December passed over, and I was still confined to my bed. I had received a cable message from my brother that the Australian petition had closed with 100,000 signatures, and was now on its way to England; it was the largest petition that had ever left Australia. I now began to feel troubled that I would not be well enough to leave the prison when my release came. I was allowed to receive letters more frequently, as the rules are somewhat relaxed in regard to them when a prisoner is seriously ill.
When the medical officer visited me on Christmas Day he said I was now making good progress towards recovery, and if I kept on as I was going I would be able to get up the following week. "But," he added, "you will be convalescent for at least another three or four months, but that is nothing, you know, when one is in prison." "Four months!" I exclaimed "I hope to be home long before that." He seemed rather amused at my impetuosity, and said that he could not promise me.