michael, brother of jerry-第4节

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s；　the　white　masters　who　came　and　went　and　roved　and　ruled？

In　this　the　ancient　was　in　nowise　unlike　the　rest　of　his　dark…　skinned　Melanesian　race。　　The　whites　were　possessed　of　unguessed　and　unthinkable　ways　and　purposes。　　They　constituted　another　world　and　were　as　a　play　of　superior　beings　on　an　exalted　stage　where　was　no　reality　such　as　black　men　might　know　as　reality；　where；　like　the　phantoms　of　a　dream；　the　white　men　moved　and　were　as　shadows　cast　upon　the　vast　and　mysterious　curtain　of　the　Cosmos。

The　gang…plank　being　on　the　port　side；　Dag　Daughtry　paddled　around　to　the　starboard　and　brought　the　canoe　to　a　stop　under　a　certain　open　port。

〃Kwaque！〃　he　called　softly；　once；　and　twice。

At　the　second　call　the　light　of　the　port　was　obscured　apparently　by　a　head　that　piped　down　in　a　thin　squeak。

〃Me　stop　'm；　marster。〃

〃One　fella　dog　stop　'm　along　you；〃　the　steward　whispered　up。　〃Keep　'm　door　shut。　　You　wait　along　me。　　Stand　by！　　Now！〃

With　a　quick　catch　and　lift；　he　passed　Michael　up　and　into　unseen　hands　outstretched　from　the　iron　wall　of　the　ship；　and　paddled　ahead　to　an　open　cargo　port。　　Dipping　into　his　tobacco　pocket；　he　thrust　a　loose　handful　of　sticks　into　the　ancient's　hand　and　shoved　the　canoe　adrift　with　no　thought　of　how　its　helpless　occupant　would　ever　reach　shore。

The　old　man　did　not　touch　the　paddle；　and　he　was　unregardless　of　the　lofty…sided　steamer　as　the　canoe　slipped　down　the　length　of　it　into　the　darkness　astern。　　He　was　too　occupied　in　counting　the　wealth　of　tobacco　showered　upon　him。　　No　easy　task；　his　counting。　Five　was　the　limit　of　his　numerals。　　When　he　had　counted　five；　he　began　over　again　and　counted　a　second　five。　　Three　fives　he　found　in　all；　and　two　sticks　over；　and　thus；　at　the　end　of　it；　he　possessed　as　definite　a　knowledge　of　the　number　of　sticks　as　would　be　possessed　by　the　average　white　man　by　means　of　the　single　number　SEVENTEEN。

More　it　was；　far　more；　than　his　avarice　had　demanded。　　Yet　he　was　unsurprised。　　Nothing　white　men　did　could　surprise。　　Had　it　been　two　sticks　instead　of　seventeen；　he　would　have　been　equally　unsurprised。　　Since　all　acts　of　white　men　were　surprises；　the　only　surprise　of　action　they　could　achieve　for　a　black　man　would　be　the　doing　of　an　unsurprising　thing。

Paddling；　wheezing；　resting；　oblivious　of　the　shadow…world　of　the　white　men；　knowing　only　the　reality　of　Tulagi　Mountain　cutting　its　crest…line　blackly　across　the　dim　radiance　of　the　star…sprinkled　sky；　the　reality　of　the　sea　and　of　the　canoe　he　so　feebly　urged　across　it；　and　the　reality　of　his　fading　strength　and　of　the　death　into　which　he　would　surely　end；　the　ancient　black　man　slowly　made　his　shoreward　way。



CHAPTER　III



In　the　meanwhile；　Michael。　　Lifted　through　the　air；　exchanged　into　invisible　hands　that　drew　him　through　a　narrow　diameter　of　brass　into　a　lighted　room；　Michael　looked　about　him　in　expectancy　of　Jerry。　　But　Jerry；　at　that　moment；　lay　cuddled　beside　Villa　Kennan's　sleeping…cot　on　the　slant　deck　of　the　Ariel；　as　that　trim　craft；　the　Shortlands　astern　and　New　Guinea　dead　ahead；　heeled　her　scuppers　a…whisper　and　garrulous　to　the　sea…welter　alongside　as　she　logged　her　eleven　knots　under　the　press　of　the　freshening　trades。　　Instead　of　Jerry；　from　whom　he　had　last　parted　on　board　a　boat；　Michael　saw　Kwaque。

Kwaque？　　Well；　Kwaque　was　Kwaque；　an　individual；　more　unlike　all　other　men　than　most　men　are　unlike　one　another。　　No　queerer　estray　ever　drifted　along　the　stream　of　life。　　Seventeen　years　old　he　was；　as　men　measure　time；　but　a　century　was　measured　in　his　lean…　lined　face；　his　wrinkled　forehead；　his　hollowed　temples；　and　his　deep…sunk　eyes。　　From　his　thin　legs；　fragile…looking　as　windstraws；　the　bones　of　which　were　sheathed　in　withered　skin　with　apparently　no　muscle　padding　in　betweenfrom　such　frail　stems　sprouted　the　torso　of　a　fat　man。　　The　huge　and　protuberant　stomach　was　amply　supported　by　wide　and　massive　hips；　and　the　shoulders　were　broad　as　those　of　a　Hercules。　　But；　beheld　sidewise；　there　was　no　depth　to　those　shoulders　and　the　top　of　the　chest。　　Almost；　at　that　part　of　his　anatomy；　he　seemed　builded　in　two　dimensions。　Thin　his　arms　were　as　his　legs；　and；　as　Michael　first　beheld　him；　he　had　all　the　seeming　of　a　big…bellied　black　spider。

He　proceeded　to　dress；　a　matter　of　moments；　slipping　into　duck　trousers　and　blouse；　dirty　and　frayed　from　long　usage。　　Two　fingers　of　his　left　hand　were　doubled　into　a　permanent　bend；　and；　to　an　expert；　would　have　advertised　that　he　was　a　leper。　　Although　he　belonged　to　Dag　Daughtry　just　as　much　as　if　the　steward　possessed　a　chattel　bill　of　sale　of　him；　his　owner　did　not　know　that　his　anaesthetic　twist　of　ravaged　nerves　tokened　the　dread　disease。

The　manner　of　the　ownership　was　simple。　　At　King　William　Island；　in　the　Admiralties；　Kwaque　had　made；　in　the　parlance　of　the　South　Pacific；　a　pier…head　jump。　　So　to　speak；　leprosy　and　all；　he　had　jumped　into　Dag　Daughtry's　arms。　　Strolling　along　the　native　runways　in　the　fringe　of　jungle　just　beyond　the　beach；　as　was　his　custom；　to　see　whatever　he　might　pick　up；　the　steward　had　picked　up　Kwaque。　　And　he　had　picked　him　up　in　extremity。

Pursued　by　two　very　active　young　men　armed　with　fire…hardened　spears；　tottering　along　with　incredible　swiftness　on　his　two　spindle　legs；　Kwaque　had　fallen　exhausted　at　Daughtry's　feet　and　looked　up　at　him　with　the　beseeching　eyes　of　a　deer　fleeing　from　the　hounds。　　Daughtry　had　inquired　into　the　matter；　and　the　inquiry　was　violent；　for　he　had　a　wholesome　fear　of　germs　and　bacilli；　and　when　the　two　active　young　men　tried　to　run　him　through　with　their　filth…corroded　spears；　he　caught　the　spear　of　one　young　man　under　his　arm　and　put　the　other　young　man　to　sleep　with　a　left　hook　to　the　jaw。　　A　moment　later　the　young　man　whose　spear　he　held　had　joined　the　other　in　slumber。

The　elderly　steward　was　not　satisfied　with　the　mere　spears。　　While　the　rescued　Kwaque　continued　to　moan　and　slubber　thankfulness　at　his　feet；　he　proceeded　to　strip　them　that　were　naked。　　Nothing　they　wore　in　the　way　of　clothing；　but　from　around　each　of　their　necks　he　removed　a　necklace　of　porpoise　teeth　that　was　worth　a　gold　sovereign　in　mere　exchange　value。　　From　the　kinky　locks　of　one　of　the　naked　young　men　he　drew　a　hand…carved；　fine…toothed　comb；　the　lofty　back　of　which　was　inlaid　with　mother…of…pearl；　which　he　later　sold　in　Sydney　to　a　curio　shop　for　eight　shillings。　Nose　and　ear　ornaments　of　bone　and　turtle…shell　he　also　rifled；　as　well　as　a　chest…crescent　of　pearl　shell；　fourteen　inches　across；　worth　fifteen　shillings　anywhere。　　The　two　spears　ultimately　fetched　him　five　shillings　each　from　the　tourists　at　Port　Moresby。　Not　lightly　may　a　ship　steward　undertake　to　maintain　a　six…quart　reputation。

When　he　turned　to　depart　from　the　active　young　men；　who；　back　to　consciousness；　were　observing　him　with　bright；　quick；　wild…animal　eyes；　Kwaque　followed　so　close　at　his　heels　as　to　step　upon　them　and　make　him　stumble。　　Whereupon　he　loaded　Kwaque　with　his　trove　and　put　him　in　front　to　lead　along　the　runway　to　the　beach。　　And　for　the　rest　of　the　way　to　the　steamer；　Dag　Daughtry　grinned　and　chuckled　at　sight　of　his　plunder　and　at　sight　of　Kwaque；　who　fantastically　titubated　and　ambled　along；　barrel…like；　on　his　pipe…stems。

On　board　the　steamer；　which　happened　to　be　the　Cockspur；　Daughtry　persuaded　the　captain　to　enter　Kwaque　on　the　ship's　articles　as　steward's　helper　with　a　rating　of　ten　shillings　a　month。　　Also；　he　learned　Kwaque's　story。

It　was　all　an　account　of　a　pig。　　The　two　active　young　men　were　brothers　who　lived　in　the　next　village　to　his；　and　the　pig　had　been　theirsso　Kwaque　narrated　in　atrocious　beche…de…mer　English。　He；　Kwaque；　had　never　seen　the　pig。　　He　had　never　known　of　its　existence　until　after　it　was　dead。　　The　two　young　men　had　loved　the　pig。　　But　what　of　that？　　It　did　not　concern　Kwaque；　who　was　as　unaware　of　their　love　for　the　pig　as　he　was　unaware　of　the　pig　itself。

The　first　he　knew；　he　averred；　was　the　gossip　of　the　village　that　the　pig　was　dead；　and　that　somebody　would　have　to　die　for　it。　　It　was　all　right；　he　said；　in　reply　to　a　query　from　the　steward。　　It　was　the　custom。　　Whenever　a　loved　pig　died　its　owners　were　in　custom　bound　to　go　out　and　kill　somebody；　anybody。　　Of　course；　it　was　better　if　they　killed　the　one　whose　magic　had　made　the　pig　sick。　　But；　failing　that　one；　any　one　would　do。　　Hence　Kwaque　was　selected　for　the　blood…atonement。

Dag　Daughtry　drank　a　seventh　quart　as　he　listened；　so　carried　away　was　he　by　the　sombre　sense　of　romance　of　this　dark　jungle　event　wherein　men　killed　even　strangers　because　a　pig　was　dead。

Scouts　out　on　the　runways；　Kwaque　continued；　brought　word　of　the　coming　of　the　two　bereaved　pig…owners；　and　the　village　had　fled　into　the　jungle　and　climbed　treesall　except　Kwaque；　who　was　unable　to　climb　trees。

〃My　word；〃　Kwaque　concluded；　〃me　no　make　'm　that　fella　pig　sick。〃

〃My　word；〃　quoth　Dag　Daughtry；　〃you　devil…devil　along　that　fella　pig　too　much。　　You　look　'm　like　hell。　　You　make　'm　any　fella　thing　sick　look　along　you。　　You　make　'm　me　sick　too　much。〃

It　became　quite　a　custom　for　the　steward；　as　he　finished　his　sixth　bottle　before　turning　in；　to　call　upon　Kwaque　for　his　story。　　It　carried　him　back　to　his　bo