the red one-第5节

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monarch's　fabled　mines。　　They　had　laughed　at　the　old　navigator's

child…like　credulity；　and　yet　here　stood　himself；　Bassett；　on　the

rim　of　an　excavation　for　all　the　world　like　the　diamond　pits　of

South　Africa。



But　no　diamond　this　that　he　gazed　down　upon。　　Rather　was　it　a

pearl；　with　the　depth　of　iridescence　of　a　pearl；　but　of　a　size　all

pearls　of　earth　and　time；　welded　into　one；　could　not　have　totalled；

and　of　a　colour　undreamed　of　in　any　pearl；　or　of　anything　else；　for

that　matter；　for　it　was　the　colour　of　the　Red　One。　　And　the　Red　One

himself　Bassett　knew　it　to　be　on　the　instant。　　A　perfect　sphere；

full　two　hundred　feet　in　diameter；　the　top　of　it　was　a　hundred　feet

below　the　level　of　the　rim。　　He　likened　the　colour　quality　of　it　to

lacquer。　　Indeed；　he　took　it　to　be　some　sort　of　lacquer；　applied　by

man；　but　a　lacquer　too　marvellously　clever　to　have　been

manufactured　by　the　bush…folk。　　Brighter　than　bright　cherry…red；

its　richness　of　colour　was　as　if　it　were　red　builded　upon　red。　　It

glowed　and　iridesced　in　the　sunlight　as　if　gleaming　up　from

underlay　under　underlay　of　red。



In　vain　Balatta　strove　to　dissuade　him　from　descending。　　She　threw

herself　in　the　dirt；　but；　when　he　continued　down　the　trail　that

spiralled　the　pit…wall；　she　followed；　cringing　and　whimpering　her

terror。　　That　the　red　sphere　had　been　dug　out　as　a　precious　thing；

was　patent。　　Considering　the　paucity　of　members　of　the　federated

twelve　villages　and　their　primitive　tools　and　methods；　Bassett　knew

that　the　toil　of　a　myriad　generations　could　scarcely　have　made　that

enormous　excavation。



He　found　the　pit　bottom　carpeted　with　human　bones；　among　which；

battered　and　defaced；　lay　village　gods　of　wood　and　stone。　　Some；

covered　with　obscene　totemic　figures　and　designs；　were　carved　from

solid　tree　trunks　forty　or　fifty　feet　in　length。　　He　noted　the

absence　of　the　shark　and　turtle　gods；　so　common　among　the　shore

villages；　and　was　amazed　at　the　constant　recurrence　of　the　helmet

motive。　　What　did　these　jungle　savages　of　the　dark　heart　of

Guadalcanal　know　of　helmets？　　Had　Mendana's　men…at…arms　worn

helmets　and　penetrated　here　centuries　before？　　And　if　not；　then

whence　had　the　bush…folk　caught　the　motive？



Advancing　over　the　litter　of　gods　and　bones；　Balatta　whimpering　at

his　heels；　Bassett　entered　the　shadow　of　the　Red　One　and　passed　on

under　its　gigantic　overhang　until　he　touched　it　with　his　finger…

tips。　　No　lacquer　that。　　Nor　was　the　surface　smooth　as　it　should

have　been　in　the　case　of　lacquer。　　On　the　contrary；　it　was

corrugated　and　pitted；　with　here　and　there　patches　that　showed

signs　of　heat　and　fusing。　　Also；　the　substance　of　it　was　metal；

though　unlike　any　metal；　or　combination　of　metals；　he　had　ever

known。　　As　for　the　colour　itself；　he　decided　it　to　be　no

application。　　It　was　the　intrinsic　colour　of　the　metal　itself。



He　moved　his　finger…tips；　which　up　to　that　had　merely　rested；　along

the　surface；　and　felt　the　whole　gigantic　sphere　quicken　and　live

and　respond。　　It　was　incredible！　　So　light　a　touch　on　so　vast　a

mass！　　Yet　did　it　quiver　under　the　finger…tip　caress　in　rhythmic

vibrations　that　became　whisperings　and　rustlings　and　mutterings　of

sound　…　but　of　sound　so　different；　so　elusively　thin　that　it　was

shimmeringly　sibilant；　so　mellow　that　it　was　maddening　sweet；

piping　like　an　elfin　horn；　which　last　was　just　what　Bassett　decided

would　be　like　a　peal　from　some　bell　of　the　gods　reaching　earthward

from　across　space。



He　looked　at　Balatta　with　swift　questioning；　but　the　voice　of　the

Red　One　he　had　evoked　had　flung　her　face　downward　and　moaning　among

the　bones。　　He　returned　to　contemplation　of　the　prodigy。　　Hollow　it

was；　and　of　no　metal　known　on　earth；　was　his　conclusion。　　It　was

right…named　by　the　ones　of　old…time　as　the　Star…Born。　　Only　from

the　stars　could　it　have　come；　and　no　thing　of　chance　was　it。　　It

was　a　creation　of　artifice　and　mind。　　Such　perfection　of　form；　such

hollowness　that　it　certainly　possessed；　could　not　be　the　result　of

mere　fortuitousness。　　A　child　of　intelligences；　remote　and

unguessable；　working　corporally　in　metals；　it　indubitably　was。　　He

stared　at　it　in　amaze；　his　brain　a　racing　wild…fire　of　hypotheses

to　account　for　this　far…journeyer　who　had　adventured　the　night　of

space；　threaded　the　stars；　and　now　rose　before　him　and　above　him；

exhumed　by　patient　anthropophagi；　pitted　and　lacquered　by　its　fiery

bath　in　two　atmospheres。



But　was　the　colour　a　lacquer　of　heat　upon　some　familiar　metal？　　Or

was　it　an　intrinsic　quality　of　the　metal　itself？　　He　thrust　in　the

blue…point　of　his　pocket…knife　to　test　the　constitution　of　the

stuff。　　Instantly　the　entire　sphere　burst　into　a　mighty　whispering；

sharp　with　protest；　almost　twanging　goldenly；　if　a　whisper　could

possibly　be　considered　to　twang；　rising　higher；　sinking　deeper；　the

two　extremes　of　the　registry　of　sound　threatening　to　complete　the

circle　and　coalesce　into　the　bull…mouthed　thundering　he　had　so

often　heard　beyond　the　taboo　distance。



Forgetful　of　safety；　of　his　own　life　itself；　entranced　by　the

wonder　of　the　unthinkable　and　unguessable　thing；　he　raised　his

knife　to　strike　heavily　from　a　long　stroke；　but　was　prevented　by

Balatta。　　She　upreared　on　her　own　knees　in　an　agony　of　terror；

clasping　his　knees　and　supplicating　him　to　desist。　　In　the

intensity　of　her　desire　to　impress　him；　she　put　her　forearm　between

her　teeth　and　sank　them　to　the　bone。



He　scarcely　observed　her　act；　although　he　yielded　automatically　to

his　gentler　instincts　and　withheld　the　knife…hack。　　To　him；　human

life　had　dwarfed　to　microscopic　proportions　before　this　colossal

portent　of　higher　life　from　within　the　distances　of　the　sidereal

universe。　　As　had　she　been　a　dog；　he　kicked　the　ugly　little

bushwoman　to　her　feet　and　compelled　her　to　start　with　him　on　an

encirclement　of　the　base。　　Part　way　around；　he　encountered　horrors。

Even；　among　the　others；　did　he　recognize　the　sun…shrivelled　remnant

of　the　nine…years　girl　who　had　accidentally　broken　Chief　Vngngn's

personality　taboo。　　And；　among　what　was　left　of　these　that　had

passed；　he　encountered　what　was　left　of　one　who　had　not　yet　passed。

Truly　had　the　bush…folk　named　themselves　into　the　name　of　the　Red

One；　seeing　in　him　their　own　image　which　they　strove　to　placate　and

please　with　such　red　offerings。



Farther　around；　always　treading　the　bones　and　images　of　humans　and

gods　that　constituted　the　floor　of　this　ancient　charnel…house　of

sacrifice；　he　came　upon　the　device　by　which　the　Red　One　was　made　to

send　his　call　singing　thunderingly　across　the　jungle…belts　and

grass…lands　to　the　far　beach　of　Ringmanu。　　Simple　and　primitive　was

it　as　was　the　Red　One's　consummate　artifice。　　A　great　king…post；

half　a　hundred　feet　in　length；　seasoned　by　centuries　of

superstitious　care；　carven　into　dynasties　of　gods；　each

superimposed；　each　helmeted；　each　seated　in　the　open　mouth　of　a

crocodile；　was　slung　by　ropes；　twisted　of　climbing　vegetable

parasites；　from　the　apex　of　a　tripod　of　three　great　forest　trunks；

themselves　carved　into　grinning　and　grotesque　adumbrations　of　man's

modern　concepts　of　art　and　god。　　From　the　striker　king…post；　were

suspended　ropes　of　climbers　to　which　men　could　apply　their　strength

and　direction。　　Like　a　battering　ram；　this　king…post　could　be

driven　end…onward　against　the　mighty　red…iridescent　sphere。



Here　was　where　Ngurn　officiated　and　functioned　religiously　for

himself　and　the　twelve　tribes　under　him。　　Bassett　laughed　aloud；

almost　with　madness；　at　the　thought　of　this　wonderful　messenger；

winged　with　intelligence　across　space；　to　fall　into　a　bushman

stronghold　and　be　worshipped　by　ape…like；　man…eating　and　head…

hunting　savages。　　It　was　as　if　God's　World　had　fallen　into　the　muck

mire　of　the　abyss　underlying　the　bottom　of　hell；　as　if　Jehovah's

Commandments　had　been　presented　on　carved　stone　to　the　monkeys　of

the　monkey　cage　at　the　Zoo；　as　if　the　Sermon　on　the　Mount　had　been

preached　in　a　roaring　bedlam　of　lunatics。





The　slow　weeks　passed。　　The　nights；　by　election；　Bassett　spent　on

the　ashen　floor　of　the　devil…devil　house；　beneath　the　ever…

swinging；　slow…curing　heads。　　His　reason　for　this　was　that　it　was

taboo　to　the　lesser　sex　of　woman；　and　therefore；　a　refuge　for　him

from　Balatta；　who　grew　more　persecutingly　and　perilously　loverly　as

the　Southern　Cross　rode　higher　in　the　sky　and　marked　the　imminence

of　her　nuptials。　　His　days　Bassett　spent　in　a　hammock　swung　under

the　shade　of　the　great　breadfruit　tree　before　the　devil…devil

house。　　There　were　breaks　in　this　programme；　when；　in　the　comas　of

his　devastating　fever…attacks；　he　lay　for　days　and　nights　in　the

house　of　heads。　　Ever　he　struggled　to　combat　the　fever；　to　live；　to

continue　to　live；　to　grow　strong　and　stronger　against　the　day　when

he　would　be　strong　enough　to　dare　the　grass…lands　and　the　belted

jungle　beyond；　and　win　to　the　beach；　and　to　some　labour…recruiting；

black…birdin