the red one-第19章

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know　after　I'd　heard　her　play　the　first　time。　　And　she　thought　her

playing　was　wonderful；　the　dear；　fond　girl！　　You　know　the　sort；　the

mechanical　one…two…three　tum…tum…tum　school…girl　stuff。　　And　now

I'll　tell　you　something　funnier。　　Her　playing　WAS　wonderful　to　me。

The　gates　of　heaven　opened　to　me　when　she　played。　　I　can　see　myself

now；　worn　out　and　dog…tired　after　the　long　day；　lying　on　the　mats

of　the　palace　veranda　and　gazing　upon　her　at　the　piano；　myself　in　a

perfect　idiocy　of　bliss。　　Why；　this　idea　she　had　of　her　fine

playing　was　the　one　flaw　in　her　deliciousness　of　perfection；　and　I

loved　her　for　it。　　It　kind　of　brought　her　within　my　human　reach。

Why；　when　she　played　her　one…two…three；　tum…tum…tum；　I　was　in　the

seventh　heaven　of　bliss。　　My　weariness　fell　from　me。　　I　loved　her；

and　my　love　for　her　was　clean　as　flame；　clean　as　my　love　for　God。

And　do　you　know；　into　my　fond　lover's　fancy　continually　intruded

the　thought　that　God　in　most　ways　must　look　like　her。



〃　…　That's　right；　Bruce　Cadogan　Cavendish；　sneer　as　you　like。　　But

I　tell　you　that's　love　that　I've　been　describing。　　That's　all。

It's　love。　　It's　the　realest；　purest；　finest　thing　that　can　happen

to　a　man。　　And　I　know　what　I'm　talking　about。　　It　happened　to　me。〃



Whiskers；　his　beady　squirrel's　eye　glittering　from　out　his　ruined

eyebrow　like　a　live　coal　in　a　jungle　ambush；　broke　off　long　enough

to　down　a　sedative　draught　from　his　condensed　milk　can　and　to　mix

another。



〃The　cane；〃　he　resumed；　wiping　his　prodigious　mat　of　face　hair　with

the　back　of　his　hand。　　〃It　matured　in　sixteen　months　in　that

climate；　and　I　was　ready；　just　ready　and　no　more；　with　the　mill　for

the　grinding。　　Naturally；　it　did　not　all　mature　at　once；　but　I　had

planted　in　such　succession　that　I　could　grind　for　nine　months

steadily；　while　more　was　being　planted　and　the　ratoons　were

springing　up。



〃I　had　my　troubles　the　first　several　days。　　If　it　wasn't　one　thing

the　matter　with　the　mill；　it　was　another。　　On　the　fourth　day；

Ferguson；　my　engineer；　had　to　shut　down　several　hours　in　order　to

remedy　his　own　troubles。　　I　was　bothered　by　the　feeder。　　After

having　the　niggers　（who　had　been　feeding　the　cane）　pour　cream　of

lime　on　the　rollers　to　keep　everything　sweet；　I　sent　them　out　to

join　the　cane…cutting　squads。　　So　I　was　all　alone　at　that　end；　just

as　Ferguson　started　up　the　mill；　just　as　I　discovered　what　was　the

matter　with　the　feed…rollers；　and　just　as　Motomoe　strolled　up。



〃He　stood　there；　in　Norfolk　jacket；　pigskin　puttees；　and　all　the

rest　of　the　fashionable　get…up　out　of　a　bandbox；　sneering　at　me

covered　with　filth　and　grease　to　the　eyebrows　and　looking　like　a

navvy。　　And；　the　rollers　now　white　from　the　lime；　I'd　just　seen

what　was　wrong。　　The　rollers　were　not　in　plumb。　　One　side　crushed

the　cane　well；　but　the　other　side　was　too　open。　　I　shoved　my

fingers　in　on　that　side。　　The　big；　toothed　cogs　on　the　rollers　did

not　touch　my　fingers。　　And　yet；　suddenly；　they　did。　　With　the　grip

of　ten　thousand　devils；　my　finger…tips　were　caught；　drawn　in；　and

pulped　to　…　well；　just　pulp。　　And；　like　a　slick　of　cane；　I　had

started　on　my　way。　　There　was　no　stopping　me。　　Ten　thousand　horses

could　not　have　pulled　me　back。　　There　was　nothing　to　stop　me。

Hand；　arm；　shoulder；　head；　and　chest；　down　to　the　toes　of　me；　I　was

doomed　to　feed　through。



〃It　did　hurt。　　It　hurt　so　much　it　did　not　hurt　me　at　all。　　Quite

detached；　almost　may　I　say；　I　looked　on　my　hand　being　ground　up；

knuckle　by　knuckle；　joint　by　joint；　the　back　of　the　hand；　the

wrist；　the　forearm；　all　in　order　slowly　and　inevitably　feeding　in。

O　engineer　hoist　by　thine　own　petard！　　O　sugar…maker　crushed　by

thine　own　cane…crusher！



〃Motomoe　sprang　forward　involuntarily；　and　the　sneer　was　chased

from　his　face　by　an　expression　of　solicitude。　　Then　the　beauty　of

the　situation　dawned　on　him；　and　he　chuckled　and　grinned。　　No；　I

didn't　expect　anything　of　him。　　Hadn't　he　tried　to　knock　me　on　the

head？　　What　could　he　do　anyway？　　He　didn't　know　anything　about

engines。



〃I　yelled　at　the　top　of　my　lungs　to　Ferguson　to　shut　off　the

engine；　but　the　roar　of　the　machinery　drowned　my　voice。　　And　there

I　stood；　up　to　the　elbow　and　feeding　right　on　in。　　Yes；　it　did

hurt。　　There　were　some　astonishing　twinges　when　special　nerves　were

shredded　and　dragged　out　by　the　roots。　　But　I　remember　that　I　was

surprised　at　the　time　that　it　did　not　hurt　worse。



〃Motomoe　made　a　movement　that　attracted　my　attention。　　At　the　same

time　he　growled　out　loud；　as　if　he　hated　himself；　'I'm　a　fool。'

What　he　had　done　was　to　pick　up　a　cane…knife　…　you　know　the　kind；

as　big　as　a　machete　and　as　heavy。　　And　I　was　grateful　to　him　in

advance　for　putting　me　out　of　my　misery。　　There　wasn't　any　sense　in

slowly　feeding　in　till　my　head　was　crushed；　and　already　my　arm　was

pulped　half　way　from　elbow　to　shoulder；　and　the　pulping　was　going

right　on。　　So　I　was　grateful；　as　I　bent　my　head　to　the　blow。



〃'Get　your　head　out　of　the　way；　you　idiot！'　he　barked　at　me。



〃And　then　I　understood　and　obeyed。　　I　was　a　big　man；　and　he　took

two　hacks　to　do　it；　but　he　hacked　my　arm　off　just　outside　the

shoulder　and　dragged　me　back　and　laid　me　down　on　the　cane。



〃Yes；　the　sugar　paid　…　enormously；　and　I　built　for　the　Princess　the

church　of　her　saintly　dream；　and　。　。　。　she　married　me。〃



He　partly　assuaged　his　thirst；　and　uttered　his　final　word。



〃Alackaday！　　Shuttlecock　and　battle…dore。　　And　this　at；　the　end　of

it　all；　lined　with　boilerplate　that　even　alcohol　will　not　corrode

and　that　only　alcohol　will　tickle。　　Yet　have　I　lived；　and　I　kiss　my

hand　to　the　dear　dust　of　my　Princess　long　asleep　in　the　great

mausoleum　of　King　John　that　looks　across　the　Vale　of　Manona　to　the

alien　flag　that　floats　over　the　bungalow　of　the　British　Government

House。　。　。　〃



Fatty　pledged　him　sympathetically；　and　sympathetically　drank　out　of

his　own　small　can。　　Bruce　Cadogan　Cavendish　glared　into　the　fire

with　implacable　bitterness。　　He　was　a　man　who　preferred　to　drink　by

himself。　　Across　the　thin　lips　that　composed　the　cruel　slash　of　his

mouth　played　twitches　of　mockery　that　caught　Fatty's　eye。　　And

Fatty；　making　sure　first　that　his　rock…chunk　was　within　reach；

challenged。



〃Well；　how　about　yourself；　Bruce　Cadogan　Cavendish？　　It's　your

turn。〃



The　other　lifted　bleak　eyes　that　bored　into　Fatty's　until　he

physically　betrayed　uncomfortableness。



〃I've　lived　a　hard　life；〃　Slim　grated　harshly。　　〃What　do　I　know

about　love　passages？〃



〃No　man　of　your　build　and　make…up　could　have　escaped　them；〃　Fatty

wheedled。



〃And　what　of　it？〃　Slim　snarled。　　〃It's　no　reason　for　a　gentleman　to

boast　of　amorous　triumphs。〃



〃Oh；　go　on；　be　a　good　fellow；〃　Fatty　urged。　　〃The　night's　still

young。　　We've　still　some　drink　left。　　Delarouse　and　I　have

contributed　our　share。　　It　isn't　often　that　three　real　ones　like　us

get　together　for　a　telling。　　Surely　you've　got　at　least　one

adventure　in　love　you　aren't　ashamed　to　tell　about　…　〃



Bruce　Cadogan　Cavendish　pulled　forth　his　iron　quoit　and　seemed　to

debate　whether　or　not　he　should　brain　the　other。　　He　sighed；　and

put　back　the　quoit。



〃Very　well；　if　you　will　have　it；〃　he　surrendered　with　manifest

reluctance。　　〃Like　you　two；　I　have　had　a　remarkable　constitution。

And　right　now；　speaking　of　armour…plate　lining；　I　could　drink　the

both　of　you　down　when　you　were　at　your　prime。　　Like　you　two；　my

beginnings　were　far　distant　and　different。　　That　I　am　marked　with

the　hall…mark　of　gentlehood　there　is　no　discussion　。　。　。　unless

either　of　you　care　to　discuss　the　matter　now　。　。　。　〃



His　one　hand　slipped　into　his　pocket　and　clutched　the　quoit。

Neither　of　his　auditors　spoke　nor　betrayed　any　awareness　of　his

menace。



〃It　occurred　a　thousand　miles　to　the　westward　of　Manatomana；　on　the

island　of　Tagalag；〃　he　continued　abruptly；　with　an　air　of　saturnine

disappointment　in　that　there　had　been　no　discussion。　　〃But　first　I

must　tell　you　of　how　I　got　to　Tagalag。　　For　reasons　I　shall　not

mention；　by　paths　of　descent　I　shall　not　describe；　in　the　crown　of

my　manhood　and　the　prime　of　my　devilishness　in　which　Oxford

renegades　and　racing　younger　sons　had　nothing　on　me；　I　found　myself

master　and　owner　of　a　schooner　so　well　known　that　she　shall　remain

historically　nameless。　　I　was　running　blackbird　labour　from　the

west　South　Pacific　and　the　Coral　Sea　to　the　plantations　of　Hawaii

and　the　nitrate　mines　of　Chili　…　〃



〃It　was　you　who　cleaned　out　the　entire　population　of　…　〃　Fatty

exploded；　ere　he　could　check　his　speech。



The　one　hand　of　Bruce　Cadogan　Cavendish　flashed　pocketward　and

flashed　back　with　the　quoit　balanced　ripe　for　business。



〃Proceed；〃　Fatty　sighed。　　〃I　。　。　。　I　have　quite　forgotten　what　I

was　going　to　say。〃



〃Beastly　funny　country　over　that　way；〃　the　narrator　drawled　with

perfect　casualness。　　〃You've　read　this　Sea　Wolf　stuff　…　〃



〃You　weren't　the　Sea　Wolf；〃　Whiskers　broke　in　with　involuntary

positiveness。



〃No；　sir；〃　was　the　snarling　answer。　　〃The　Sea　Wolf's　dead；　isn't

he？　　And　I'm　still　alive；　aren't　I？〃



〃Of　course；　of　course；〃　Whiskers　conceded。　　〃He　suffocated　head…

first　in　the　mud　off　a　wharf　in　Victoria　a　couple　of　years　back。〃



〃As　I　was　saying　…　and　I　don't　like　interruptions；〃　Bruce　Cadogan

Cavendish　proceeded；　〃it's　a　beastly　funny　country　over　that　way。

I　was　at　Taki…Tiki；　a　low　island　that　politically　belongs　to　the

Solomons；　but　that　geologically　doesn't　at　all；　for　the　Solomons

are　high　islands。　　Ethnographically　it　belongs　to　Polynesia；

Melanesia；　and　Micronesia；　because　all　the　breeds　of　the　South

Pacific　have　gravitated　to　it　by　canoe…drift　and　intricately；

degeneratively；　and　amazingly　interbred。　　The　scum　of　the　scrapings

of　the　bottom　of　the　human　pit；　biologically　speaking；　resides　in

Taka…Tiki。　　And　I　know　the　bottom　and　whereof　I　speak。



〃It　was　a　beastly　funny　time　of　it　I　had；　diving　out　shell；　fishing

beche…de…mer；　trading　hoop…iron　and　hatchets　for　copra　and　ivory…

nuts；　running　niggers　and　all　the　rest　of　it。　　Why；　even　in　Fiji

the　Lotu　was　having　a　hard　time　of　it　and　the　chiefs　still　eating

long…pig。　　To　the　westward　it　was　fierce　…　funny　little　black

kinky…heads；　man…eaters　the　last　Jack　of　them；　and　the　jackpot　fat

and　spilling　over　with　wealth　…　〃



〃Jack…pots？〃　Fatty　queried。　　At　sight　of　an　irritable　movement；　he

added：　　〃You　see；　I　never　got　over　to　the　West　like　Delarouse　and

you。〃



〃They're　all　head…hunters。　　Heads　are　valuable；　especially　a　white

man's　head。　　They　decorate　the　canoe…houses　and　devil…devil　houses

with　them。　　Each　village　runs　a　jack…pot；　and　everybody　antes。

Whoever　brings　in　a　white　man's　head　takes　the　pot。　　If　there

aren't　openers　for　a　long　time；　the　pot　grows　to　tremendous

proportions。　　Beastly　funny；　isn't　it？



〃I　know。　　Didn't　a　Holland　mate　die　on　me　of　blackwater？　　And

didn't　I　win　a　pot　myse