the red one(红色的那人)-第6节
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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…
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THE RED ONE
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。
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THE RED ONE
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；
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THE RED ONE
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
