south sea tales(南海传说)-第23章
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〃The black will never understand the white； nor the white the black； as
long as black is black and white is white。〃
So said Captain Woodward。 We sat in the parlor of Charley Roberts'
pub in Apia； drinking long Abu Hameds compounded and shared with us
by the aforesaid Charley Roberts； who claimed the recipe direct from
Stevens； famous for having invented the Abu Hamed at a time when he
was spurred on by Nile thirstthe Stevens who was responsible for 〃With
Kitchener to Kartoun；〃 and who passed out at the siege of Ladysmith。
Captain Woodward； short and squat； elderly； burned by forty years of
tropic sun； and with the most beautiful liquid brown eyes I ever saw in a
man； spoke from a vast experience。 The crisscross of scars on his bald pate
bespoke a tomahawk intimacy with the black； and of equal intimacy was
the advertisement； front and rear； on the right side of his neck； where an
arrow had at one time entered and been pulled clean through。 As he
explained； he had been in a hurry on that occasionthe arrow impeded his
runningand he felt that he could not take the time to break off the head
and pull out the shaft the way it had come in。 At the present moment he
was commander of the SAVAII； the big steamer that recruited labor from
the westward for the German plantations on Samoa。
〃Half the trouble is the stupidity of the whites；〃 said Roberts； pausing
to take a swig from his glass and to curse the Samoan bar…boy in
affectionate terms。 〃If the white man would lay himself out a bit to
understand the workings of the black man's mind； most of the messes
would be avoided。〃
〃I've seen a few who claimed they understood niggers；〃 Captain
Woodward retorted； 〃and I always took notice that they were the first to be
kai…kai'd （eaten）。 Look at the missionaries in New Guinea and the New
Hebridesthe martyr isle of Erromanga and all the rest。 Look at the
Austrian expedition that was cut to pieces in the Solomons； in the bush of
Guadalcanar。 And look at the traders themselves； with a score of years'
experience； making their brag that no nigger would ever get them； and
whose heads to this day are ornamenting the rafters of the canoe houses。
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There was old Johnny Simonstwenty…six years on the raw edges of
Melanesia； swore he knew the niggers like a book and that they'd never do
for him； and he passed out at Marovo Lagoon； New Georgia； had his head
sawed off by a black Mary （woman） and an old nigger with only one leg；
having left the other leg in the mouth of a shark while diving for
dynamited fish。 There was Billy Watts； horrible reputation as a nigger
killer； a man to scare the devil。 I remember lying at Cape Little； New
Ireland you know； when the niggers stole half a case of trade…tobaccocost
him about three dollars and a half。 In retaliation he turned out； shot six
niggers； smashed up their war canoes and burned two villages。 And it was
at Cape Little； four years afterward； that he was jumped along with fifty
Buku boys he had with him fishing b 坈 he…de…mer。 In five minutes they
were all dead； with the exception of three boys who got away in a canoe。
Don't talk to me about understanding the nigger。 The white man's mission
is to farm the world； and it's a big enough job cut out for him。 What time
has he got left to understand niggers anyway？〃
〃Just so；〃 said Roberts。 〃And somehow it doesn't seem necessary； after
all； to understand the niggers。 In direct proportion to the white man's
stupidity is his success in farming the world〃
〃And putting the fear of God into the nigger's heart；〃 Captain
Woodward blurted out。 〃Perhaps you're right； Roberts。 Perhaps it's his
stupidity that makes him succeed； and surely one phase of his stupidity is
his inability to understand the niggers。 But there's one thing sure； the white
has to run the niggers whether he understands them or not。 It's inevitable。
It's fate。〃
〃And of course the white man is inevitableit's the niggers' fate；〃
Roberts broke in。 〃Tell the white man there's pearl shell in some lagoon
infested by ten…thousand howling cannibals； and he'll head there all by his
lonely； with half a dozen kanaka divers and a tin alarm clock for
chronometer； all packed like sardines on a commodious； five…ton ketch。
Whisper that there's a gold strike at the North Pole； and that same
inevitable white…skinned creature will set out at once； armed with pick and
shovel； a side of bacon； and the latest patent rockerand what's more； he'll
get there。 Tip it off to him that there's diamonds on the red…hot ramparts of
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hell； and Mr。 White Man will storm the ramparts and set old Satan himself
to pick…and…shovel work。 That's what comes of being stupid and
inevitable。〃
〃But I wonder what the black man must think of thethe
inevitableness；〃 I said。
Captain Woodward broke into quiet laughter。 His eyes had a
reminiscent gleam。
〃I'm just wondering what the niggers of Malu thought and still must be
thinking of the one inevitable white man we had on board when we visited
them in the DUCHESS；〃 he explained。
Roberts mixed three more Abu Hameds。
〃That was twenty years ago。 Saxtorph was his name。 He was certainly
the most stupid man I ever saw； but he was as inevitable as death。 There
was only one thing that chap could do； and that was shoot。 I remember the
first time I ran into himright here in Apia； twenty years ago。 That was
before your time； Roberts。 I was sleeping at Dutch Henry's hotel； down
where the market is now。 Ever heard of him？ He made a tidy stake
smuggling arms in to the rebels； sold out his hotel； and was killed in
Sydney just six weeks afterward in a saloon row。
〃But Saxtorph。 One night I'd just got to sleep； when a couple of cats
began to sing in the courtyard。 It was out of bed and up window； water jug
in hand。 But just then I heard the window of the next room go up。 Two
shots were fired； and the window was closed。 I fail to impress you with the
celerity of the transaction。 Ten seconds at the outside。 Up went the
window； bang bang went the revolver； and down went the window。
Whoever it was； he had never stopped to see the effect of his shots。 He
knew。 Do you follow me？he KNEW。 There was no more cat concert； and
in the morning there lay the two offenders； stone dead。 It was marvelous to
me。 It still is marvelous。 First； it was starlight； and Saxtorph shot without
drawing a bead； next； he shot so rapidly that the two reports were like a
double report； and finally； he knew he had hit his marks without looking to
see。
〃Two days afterward he came on board to see me。 I was mate； then；
on the Duchess； a whacking big one…hundred…and fifty…ton schooner； a
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blackbirder。 And let me tell you that blackbirders were blackbirders in
those days。 There weren't any government protection for US； either。 It was
rough work； give and take； if we were finished； and nothing said； and we
ran niggers from every south sea island they didn't kick us off from。 Well；
Saxtorph came on board； John Saxtorph was the name he gave。 He was a
sandy little man； hair sandy； complexion sandy； and eyes sandy； too。
Nothing striking about him。 His soul was as neutral as his color scheme。
He said he was strapped and wanted to ship on board。 Would go cabin boy；
cook； supercargo； or common sailor。 Didn't know anything about any of
the billets； but said that he was willing to learn。 I didn't want him； but his
shooting had so impressed me that I took him as common sailor； wages
three pounds per month。
〃He was willing to learn all right； I'll say that much。 But he was
constitutionally unable to learn anything。 He could no more box the
compass than I could mix drinks like Roberts here。 And as for steering； he
gave me my first gray hairs。 I never dared risk him at the wheel when we
were running in a big sea； while full…and…by and close…and…by were
insoluble mysteries。 Couldn't ever tell the difference between a sheet and a
tackle； simply couldn't。 The fore…throat…jig and the jib…jig were all one to
him。 Tell him to slack off the mainsheet； and before you know it； he'd drop
the peak。 He fell overboard three times； and he couldn't swim。 But he was
always cheerful； never seasick； and he was the most willing man I ever
knew。 He was an uncommunicative soul。 Never talked about himself。 His
history； so far as we were concerned； began the day he signed on the
DUCHESS。 Where he learned to shoot； the stars alone can tell。 He was a
Yankeethat much we knew from the twang in his speech。 And that was
all we ever did know。
〃And now we begin to get to the point。 We had bad luck in the New
Hebrides； only fourteen boys for five weeks； and we ran up before the
southeast for the Solomons。 'malaita； then as now； was good recruiting
ground； and we ran into Malu； on the northwestern corner。 There's a shore
reef and an outer reef； and a mighty nervous anchorage； but we made it all
right and fired off our dynamite as a signal to the niggers to come down
and be recruited。 In three days we got not a boy。 The niggers came off to
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us in their canoes by hundreds； but they only laughed when we showed
them beads and calico and hatchets and talked of the delights of plantation
work in Samoa。
〃On the fourth day there came a change。 Fifty…odd boys signed on a
