Charmian and I looked at each other and debated silently for half a minute. Then we nodded our heads simultaneously1. It is a way we have of making up our minds to do things; and a very good way it is when one has no temperamental tears to shed over the last tin-of condensed milk when it has capsized. (We are living on tinned goods these days, and since mind is rumoured2 to be an emanation of matter, our similes3 are naturally of the packing-house variety.)
“You’d better bring your revolvers along, and a couple of rifles,” said Captain Jansen. “I’ve got five rifles aboard, though the one Mauser is without ammunition4. Have you a few rounds to spare?”
We brought our rifles on board, several handfuls of Mauser cartridges5, and Wada and Nakata, the Snark’s cook and cabin-boy respectively. Wada and Nakata were in a bit of a funk. To say the least, they were not enthusiastic, though never did Nakata show the white feather in the face of danger. The Solomon Islands had not dealt kindly6 with them. In the first place, both had suffered from Solomon sores. So had the rest of us (at the time, I was nursing two fresh ones on a diet of corrosive7 sublimate8); but the two Japanese had had more than their share. And the sores are not nice. They may be described as excessively active ulcers10. A mosquito bite, a cut, or the slightest abrasion11, serves for lodgment of the poison with which the air seems to be filled. Immediately the ulcer9 commences to eat. It eats in every direction, consuming skin and muscle with astounding13 rapidity. The pin-point ulcer of the first day is the size of a dime14 by the second day, and by the end of the week a silver dollar will not cover it.
Worse than the sores, the two Japanese had been afflicted15 with Solomon Island fever. Each had been down repeatedly with it, and in their weak, convalescent moments they were wont16 to huddle17 together on the portion of the Snark that happened to be nearest to faraway Japan, and to gaze yearningly18 in that direction.
But worst of all, they were now brought on board the Minota for a recruiting cruise along the savage19 coast of Malaita. Wada, who had the worse funk, was sure that he would never see Japan again, and with bleak20, lack-lustre eyes he watched our rifles and ammunition going on board the Minota. He knew about the Minota and her Malaita cruises. He knew that she had been captured six months before on the Malaita coast, that her captain had been chopped to pieces with tomahawks, and that, according to the barbarian21 sense of equity22 on that sweet isle23, she owed two more heads. Also, a labourer on Penduffryn Plantation24, a Malaita boy, had just died of dysentery, and Wada knew that Penduffryn had been put in the debt of Malaita by one more head. Furthermore, in stowing our luggage away in the skipper’s tiny cabin, he saw the axe25 gashes26 on the door where the triumphant27 bushmen had cut their way in. And, finally, the galley29 stove was without a pipe—said pipe having been part of the loot.
The Minota was a teak-built, Australian yacht, ketch-rigged, long and lean, with a deep fin28-keel, and designed for harbour racing30 rather than for recruiting blacks. When Charmian and I came on board, we found her crowded. Her double boat’s crew, including substitutes, was fifteen, and she had a score and more of “return” boys, whose time on the plantations31 was served and who were bound back to their bush villages. To look at, they were certainly true head-hunting cannibals. Their perforated nostrils32 were thrust through with bone and wooden bodkins the size of lead-pencils. Numbers of them had punctured33 the extreme meaty point of the nose, from which protruded34, straight out, spikes35 of turtle-shell or of beads36 strung on stiff wire. A few had further punctured their noses with rows of holes following the curves of the nostrils from lip to point. Each ear of every man had from two to a dozen holes in it—holes large enough to carry wooden plugs three inches in diameter down to tiny holes in which were carried clay-pipes and similar trifles. In fact, so many holes did they possess that they lacked ornaments37 to fill them; and when, the following day, as we neared Malaita, we tried out our rifles to see that they were in working order, there was a general scramble38 for the empty cartridges, which were thrust forthwith into the many aching voids in our passengers’ ears.
At the time we tried out our rifles we put up our barbed wire railings. The Minota, crown-decked, without any house, and with a rail six inches high, was too accessible to boarders. So brass40 stanchions were screwed into the rail and a double row of barbed wire stretched around her from stem to stern and back again. Which was all very well as a protection from savages41, but it was mighty42 uncomfortable to those on board when the Minota took to jumping and plunging43 in a sea-way. When one dislikes sliding down upon the lee-rail barbed wire, and when he dares not catch hold of the weather-rail barbed wire to save himself from sliding, and when, with these various disinclinations, he finds himself on a smooth flush-deck that is heeled over at an angle of forty-five degrees, some of the delights of Solomon Islands cruising may be comprehended. Also, it must be remembered, the penalty of a fall into the barbed wire is more than the mere44 scratches, for each scratch is practically certain to become a venomous ulcer. That caution will not save one from the wire was evidenced one fine morning when we were running along the Malaita coast with the breeze on our quarter. The wind was fresh, and a tidy sea was making. A black boy was at the wheel. Captain Jansen, Mr. Jacobsen (the mate), Charmian, and I had just sat down on deck to breakfast. Three unusually large seas caught us. The boy at the wheel lost his head. Three times the Minota was swept. The breakfast was rushed over the lee-rail. The knives and forks went through the scuppers; a boy aft went clean overboard and was dragged back; and our doughty45 skipper lay half inboard and half out, jammed in the barbed wire. After that, for the rest of the cruise, our joint46 use of the several remaining eating utensils47 was a splendid example of primitive48 communism. On the Eugenie, however, it was even worse, for we had but one teaspoon49 among four of us—but the Eugenie is another story.
Our first port was Su’u on the west coast of Malaita. The Solomon Islands are on the fringe of things. It is difficult enough sailing on dark nights through reef-spiked channels and across erratic50 currents where there are no lights to guide (from northwest to southeast the Solomons extend across a thousand miles of sea, and on all the thousands of miles of coasts there is not one lighthouse); but the difficulty is seriously enhanced by the fact that the land itself is not correctly charted. Su’u is an example. On the Admiralty chart of Malaita the coast at this point runs a straight, unbroken line. Yet across this straight, unbroken line the Minota sailed in twenty fathoms52 of water. Where the land was alleged53 to be, was a deep indentation. Into this we sailed, the mangroves closing about us, till we dropped anchor in a mirrored pond. Captain Jansen did not like the anchorage. It was the first time he had been there, and Su’u had a bad reputation. There was no wind with which to get away in case of attack, while the crew could be bushwhacked to a man if they attempted to tow out in the whale-boat. It was a pretty trap, if trouble blew up.
“She’s not going ashore,” was Captain Jansen’s answer.
“But just in case she did?” I insisted. He considered for a moment and shifted his glance from the mate buckling57 on a revolver to the boat’s crew climbing into the whale-boat each man with a rifle.
“We’d get into the whale-boat, and get out of here as fast as God’d let us,” came the skipper’s delayed reply.
He explained at length that no white man was sure of his Malaita crew in a tight place; that the bushmen looked upon all wrecks59 as their personal property; that the bushmen possessed61 plenty of Snider rifles; and that he had on board a dozen “return” boys for Su’u who were certain to join in with their friends and relatives ashore when it came to looting the Minota.
The first work of the whale-boat was to take the “return” boys and their trade-boxes ashore. Thus one danger was removed. While this was being done, a canoe came alongside manned by three naked savages. And when I say naked, I mean naked. Not one vestige62 of clothing did they have on, unless nose-rings, ear-plugs, and shell armlets be accounted clothing. The head man in the canoe was an old chief, one-eyed, reputed to be friendly, and so dirty that a boat-scraper would have lost its edge on him. His mission was to warn the skipper against allowing any of his people to go ashore. The old fellow repeated the warning again that night.
In vain did the whale-boat ply58 about the shores of the bay in quest of recruits. The bush was full of armed natives; all willing enough to talk with the recruiter, but not one would engage to sign on for three years’ plantation labour at six pounds per year. Yet they were anxious enough to get our people ashore. On the second day they raised a smoke on the beach at the head of the bay. This being the customary signal of men desiring to recruit, the boat was sent. But nothing resulted. No one recruited, nor were any of our men lured63 ashore. A little later we caught glimpses of a number of armed natives moving about on the beach.
Outside of these rare glimpses, there was no telling how many might be lurking64 in the bush. There was no penetrating66 that primeval jungle with the eye. In the afternoon, Captain Jansen, Charmian, and I went dynamiting67 fish. Each one of the boat’s crew carried a Lee-Enfield. “Johnny,” the native recruiter, had a Winchester beside him at the steering68 sweep. We rowed in close to a portion of the shore that looked deserted69. Here the boat was turned around and backed in; in case of attack, the boat would be ready to dash away. In all the time I was on Malaita I never saw a boat land bow on. In fact, the recruiting vessels70 use two boats—one to go in on the beach, armed, of course, and the other to lie off several hundred feet and “cover” the first boat. The Minota, however, being a small vessel71, did not carry a covering boat.
We were close in to the shore and working in closer, stern-first, when a school of fish was sighted. The fuse was ignited and the stick of dynamite72 thrown. With the explosion, the surface of the water was broken by the flash of leaping fish. At the same instant the woods broke into life. A score of naked savages, armed with bows and arrows, spears, and Sniders, burst out upon the shore. At the same moment our boat’s crew lifted their rifles. And thus the opposing parties faced each other, while our extra boys dived over after the stunned73 fish.
Three fruitless days were spent at Su’u. The Minota got no recruits from the bush, and the bushmen got no heads from the Minota. In fact, the only one who got anything was Wada, and his was a nice dose of fever. We towed out with the whale-boat, and ran along the coast to Langa Langa, a large village of salt-water people, built with prodigious74 labour on a lagoon75 sand-bank—literally76 built up, an artificial island reared as a refuge from the blood-thirsty bushmen. Here, also, on the shore side of the lagoon, was Binu, the place where the Minota was captured half a year previously77 and her captain killed by the bushmen. As we sailed in through the narrow entrance, a canoe came alongside with the news that the man-of-war had just left that morning after having burned three villages, killed some thirty pigs, and drowned a baby. This was the Cambrian, Captain Lewes commanding. He and I had first met in Korea during the Japanese-Russian War, and we had been crossing each other’s trail ever since without ever a meeting. The day the Snark sailed into Suva, in the Fijis, we made out the Cambrian going out. At Vila, in the New Hebrides, we missed each other by one day. We passed each other in the night-time off the island of Santo. And the day the Cambrian arrived at Tulagi, we sailed from Penduffryn, a dozen miles away. And here at Langa Langa we had missed by several hours.
The Cambrian had come to punish the murderers of the Minota’s captain, but what she had succeeded in doing we did not learn until later in the day, when a Mr. Abbot, a missionary78, came alongside in his whale-boat. The villages had been burned and the pigs killed. But the natives had escaped personal harm. The murderers had not been captured, though the Minota’s flag and other of her gear had been recovered. The drowning of the baby had come about through a misunderstanding. Chief Johnny, of Binu, had declined to guide the landing party into the bush, nor could any of his men be induced to perform that office. Whereupon Captain Lewes, righteously indignant, had told Chief Johnny that he deserved to have his village burned. Johnny’s bêche de mer English did not include the word “deserve.” So his understanding of it was that his village was to be burned anyway. The immediate12 stampede of the inhabitants was so hurried that the baby was dropped into the water. In the meantime Chief Johnny hastened to Mr. Abbot. Into his hand he put fourteen sovereigns and requested him to go on board the Cambrian and buy Captain Lewes off. Johnny’s village was not burned. Nor did Captain Lewes get the fourteen sovereigns, for I saw them later in Johnny’s possession when he boarded the Minota. The excuse Johnny gave me for not guiding the landing party was a big boil which he proudly revealed. His real reason, however, and a perfectly79 valid80 one, though he did not state it, was fear of revenge on the part of the bushmen. Had he, or any of his men, guided the marines, he could have looked for bloody81 reprisals82 as soon as the Cambrian weighed anchor.
As an illustration of conditions in the Solomons, Johnny’s business on board was to turn over, for a tobacco consideration, the sprit, mainsail, and jib of a whale-boat. Later in the day, a Chief Billy came on board and turned over, for a tobacco consideration, the mast and boom. This gear belonged to a whale-boat which Captain Jansen had recovered the previous trip of the Minota. The whale-boat belonged to Meringe Plantation on the island of Ysabel. Eleven contract labourers, Malaita men and bushmen at that, had decided83 to run away. Being bushmen, they knew nothing of salt water nor of the way of a boat in the sea. So they persuaded two natives of San Cristoval, salt-water men, to run away with them. It served the San Cristoval men right. They should have known better. When they had safely navigated84 the stolen boat to Malaita, they had their heads hacked55 off for their pains. It was this boat and gear that Captain Jansen had recovered.
Not for nothing have I journeyed all the way to the Solomons. At last I have seen Charmian’s proud spirit humbled85 and her imperious queendom of femininity dragged in the dust. It happened at Langa Langa, ashore, on the manufactured island which one cannot see for the houses. Here, surrounded by hundreds of unblushing naked men, women, and children, we wandered about and saw the sights. We had our revolvers strapped86 on, and the boat’s crew, fully87 armed, lay at the oars88, stern in; but the lesson of the man-of-war was too recent for us to apprehend89 trouble. We walked about everywhere and saw everything until at last we approached a large tree trunk that served as a bridge across a shallow estuary90. The blacks formed a wall in front of us and refused to let us pass. We wanted to know why we were stopped. The blacks said we could go on. We misunderstood, and started. Explanations became more definite. Captain Jansen and I, being men, could go on. But no Mary was allowed to wade91 around that bridge, much less cross it. “Mary” is bêche de mer for woman. Charmian was a Mary. To her the bridge was tambo, which is the native for taboo92. Ah, how my chest expanded! At last my manhood was vindicated93. In truth I belonged to the lordly sex. Charmian could trapse along at our heels, but we were MEN, and we could go right over that bridge while she would have to go around by whale-boat.
Now I should not care to be misunderstood by what follows; but it is a matter of common knowledge in the Solomons that attacks of fever are often brought on by shock. Inside half an hour after Charmian had been refused the right of way, she was being rushed aboard the Minota, packed in blankets, and dosed with quinine. I don’t know what kind of shock had happened to Wada and Nakata, but at any rate they were down with fever as well. The Solomons might be healthfuller.
Also, during the attack of fever, Charmian developed a Solomon sore. It was the last straw. Every one on the Snark had been afflicted except her. I had thought that I was going to lose my foot at the ankle by one exceptionally malignant94 boring ulcer. Henry and Tehei, the Tahitian sailors, had had numbers of them. Wada had been able to count his by the score. Nakata had had single ones three inches in length. Martin had been quite certain that necrosis of his shinbone had set in from the roots of the amazing colony he elected to cultivate in that locality. But Charmian had escaped. Out of her long immunity95 had been bred contempt for the rest of us. Her ego96 was flattered to such an extent that one day she shyly informed me that it was all a matter of pureness of blood. Since all the rest of us cultivated the sores, and since she did not—well, anyway, hers was the size of a silver dollar, and the pureness of her blood enabled her to cure it after several weeks of strenuous97 nursing. She pins her faith to corrosive sublimate. Martin swears by iodoform. Henry uses lime-juice undiluted. And I believe that when corrosive sublimate is slow in taking hold, alternate dressings98 of peroxide of hydrogen are just the thing. There are white men in the Solomons who stake all upon boracic acid, and others who are prejudiced in favour of lysol. I also have the weakness of a panacea99. It is California. I defy any man to get a Solomon Island sore in California.
We ran down the lagoon from Langa Langa, between mangrove54 swamps, through passages scarcely wider than the Minota, and past the reef villages of Kaloka and Auki. Like the founders100 of Venice, these salt-water men were originally refugees from the mainland. Too weak to hold their own in the bush, survivors101 of village massacres102, they fled to the sand-banks of the lagoon. These sand-banks they built up into islands. They were compelled to seek their provender103 from the sea, and in time they became salt-water men. They learned the ways of the fish and the shellfish, and they invented hooks and lines, nets and fish-traps. They developed canoe-bodies. Unable to walk about, spending all their time in the canoes, they became thick-armed and broad-shouldered, with narrow waists and frail104 spindly legs. Controlling the sea-coast, they became wealthy, trade with the interior passing largely through their hands. But perpetual enmity exists between them and the bushmen. Practically their only truces105 are on market-days, which occur at stated intervals106, usually twice a week. The bushwomen and the salt-water women do the bartering107. Back in the bush, a hundred yards away, fully armed, lurk65 the bushmen, while to seaward, in the canoes, are the salt-water men. There are very rare instances of the market-day truces being broken. The bushmen like their fish too well, while the salt-water men have an organic craving108 for the vegetables they cannot grow on their crowded islets.
Thirty miles from Langa Langa brought us to the passage between Bassakanna Island and the mainland. Here, at nightfall, the wind left us, and all night, with the whale-boat towing ahead and the crew on board sweating at the sweeps, we strove to win through. But the tide was against us. At midnight, midway in the passage, we came up with the Eugenie, a big recruiting schooner109, towing with two whale-boats. Her skipper, Captain Keller, a sturdy young German of twenty-two, came on board for a “gam,” and the latest news of Malaita was swapped110 back and forth39. He had been in luck, having gathered in twenty recruits at the village of Fiu. While lying there, one of the customary courageous111 killings112 had taken place. The murdered boy was what is called a salt-water bushman—that is, a salt-water man who is half bushman and who lives by the sea but does not live on an islet. Three bushmen came down to this man where he was working in his garden. They behaved in friendly fashion, and after a time suggested kai-kai. Kai-kai means food. He built a fire and started to boil some taro114. While bending over the pot, one of the bushmen shot him through the head. He fell into the flames, whereupon they thrust a spear through his stomach, turned it around, and broke it off.
“My word,” said Captain Keller, “I don’t want ever to be shot with a Snider. Spread! You could drive a horse and carriage through that hole in his head.”
Another recent courageous killing113 I heard of on Malaita was that of an old man. A bush chief had died a natural death. Now the bushmen don’t believe in natural deaths. No one was ever known to die a natural death. The only way to die is by bullet, tomahawk, or spear thrust. When a man dies in any other way, it is a clear case of having been charmed to death. When the bush chief died naturally, his tribe placed the guilt115 on a certain family. Since it did not matter which one of the family was killed, they selected this old man who lived by himself. This would make it easy. Furthermore, he possessed no Snider. Also, he was blind. The old fellow got an inkling of what was coming and laid in a large supply of arrows. Three brave warriors116, each with a Snider, came down upon him in the night time. All night they fought valiantly117 with him. Whenever they moved in the bush and made a noise or a rustle118, he discharged an arrow in that direction. In the morning, when his last arrow was gone, the three heroes crept up to him and blew his brains out.
Morning found us still vainly toiling119 through the passage. At last, in despair, we turned tail, ran out to sea, and sailed clear round Bassakanna to our objective, Malu. The anchorage at Malu was very good, but it lay between the shore and an ugly reef, and while easy to enter, it was difficult to leave. The direction of the southeast trade necessitated120 a beat to windward; the point of the reef was widespread and shallow; while a current bore down at all times upon the point.
Mr. Caulfeild, the missionary at Malu, arrived in his whale-boat from a trip down the coast. A slender, delicate man he was, enthusiastic in his work, level-headed and practical, a true twentieth-century soldier of the Lord. When he came down to this station on Malaita, as he said, he agreed to come for six months. He further agreed that if he were alive at the end of that time, he would continue on. Six years had passed and he was still continuing on. Nevertheless he was justified121 in his doubt as to living longer than six months. Three missionaries122 had preceded him on Malaita, and in less than that time two had died of fever and the third had gone home a wreck60.
“What murder are you talking about?” he asked suddenly, in the midst of a confused conversation with Captain Jansen.
Captain Jansen explained.
“Oh, that’s not the one I have reference to,” quoth Mr. Caulfeild. “That’s old already. It happened two weeks ago.”
It was here at Malu that I atoned123 for all the exulting124 and gloating I had been guilty of over the Solomon sore Charmian had collected at Langa Langa. Mr. Caulfeild was indirectly125 responsible for my atonement. He presented us with a chicken, which I pursued into the bush with a rifle. My intention was to clip off its head. I succeeded, but in doing so fell over a log and barked my shin. Result: three Solomon sores. This made five all together that were adorning126 my person. Also, Captain Jansen and Nakata had caught gari-gari. Literally translated, gari-gari is scratch-scratch. But translation was not necessary for the rest of us. The skipper’s and Nakata’s gymnastics served as a translation without words.
(No, the Solomon Islands are not as healthy as they might be. I am writing this article on the island of Ysabel, where we have taken the Snark to careen and clean her cooper. I got over my last attack of fever this morning, and I have had only one free day between attacks. Charmian’s are two weeks apart. Wada is a wreck from fever. Last night he showed all the symptoms of coming down with pneumonia127. Henry, a strapping128 giant of a Tahitian, just up from his last dose of fever, is dragging around the deck like a last year’s crab-apple. Both he and Tehei have accumulated a praiseworthy display of Solomon sores. Also, they have caught a new form of gari-gari, a sort of vegetable poisoning like poison oak or poison ivy129. But they are not unique in this. A number of days ago Charmian, Martin, and I went pigeon-shooting on a small island, and we have had a foretaste of eternal torment130 ever since. Also, on that small island, Martin cut the soles of his feet to ribbons on the coral whilst chasing a shark—at least, so he says, but from the glimpse I caught of him I thought it was the other way about. The coral-cuts have all become Solomon sores. Before my last fever I knocked the skin off my knuckles131 while heaving on a line, and I now have three fresh sores. And poor Nakata! For three weeks he has been unable to sit down. He sat down yesterday for the first time, and managed to stay down for fifteen minutes. He says cheerfully that he expects to be cured of his gari-gari in another month. Furthermore, his gari-gari, from too enthusiastic scratch-scratching, has furnished footholds for countless132 Solomon sores. Still furthermore, he has just come down with his seventh attack of fever. If I were king, the worst punishment I could inflict133 on my enemies would be to banish134 them to the Solomons. On second thought, king or no king, I don’t think I’d have the heart to do it.)
Recruiting plantation labourers on a small, narrow yacht, built for harbour sailing, is not any too nice. The decks swarm135 with recruits and their families. The main cabin is packed with them. At night they sleep there. The only entrance to our tiny cabin is through the main cabin, and we jam our way through them or walk over them. Nor is this nice. One and all, they are afflicted with every form of malignant skin disease. Some have ringworm, others have bukua. This latter is caused by a vegetable parasite136 that invades the skin and eats it away. The itching137 is intolerable. The afflicted ones scratch until the air is filled with fine dry flakes138. Then there are yaws and many other skin ulcerations. Men come aboard with Solomon sores in their feet so large that they can walk only on their toes, or with holes in their legs so terrible that a fist could be thrust in to the bone. Blood-poisoning is very frequent, and Captain Jansen, with sheath-knife and sail needle, operates lavishly139 on one and all. No matter how desperate the situation, after opening and cleansing140, he claps on a poultice of sea-biscuit soaked in water. Whenever we see a particularly horrible case, we retire to a corner and deluge141 our own sores with corrosive sublimate. And so we live and eat and sleep on the Minota, taking our chance and “pretending it is good.”
At Suava, another artificial island, I had a second crow over Charmian. A big fella marster belong Suava (which means the high chief of Suava) came on board. But first he sent an emissary to Captain Jansen for a fathom51 of calico with which to cover his royal nakedness. Meanwhile he lingered in the canoe alongside. The regal dirt on his chest I swear was half an inch thick, while it was a good wager142 that the underneath143 layers were anywhere from ten to twenty years of age. He sent his emissary on board again, who explained that the big fella marster belong Suava was condescendingly willing enough to shake hands with Captain Jansen and me and cadge144 a stick or so of trade tobacco, but that nevertheless his high-born soul was still at so lofty an altitude that it could not sink itself to such a depth of degradation145 as to shake hands with a mere female woman. Poor Charmian! Since her Malaita experiences she has become a changed woman. Her meekness146 and humbleness147 are appallingly148 becoming, and I should not be surprised, when we return to civilization and stroll along a sidewalk, to see her take her station, with bowed head, a yard in the rear.
Nothing much happened at Suava. Bichu, the native cook, deserted. The Minota dragged anchor. It blew heavy squalls of wind and rain. The mate, Mr. Jacobsen, and Wada were prostrated149 with fever. Our Solomon sores increased and multiplied. And the cockroaches150 on board held a combined Fourth of July and Coronation Parade. They selected midnight for the time, and our tiny cabin for the place. They were from two to three inches long; there were hundreds of them, and they walked all over us. When we attempted to pursue them, they left solid footing, rose up in the air, and fluttered about like humming-birds. They were much larger than ours on the Snark. But ours are young yet, and haven’t had a chance to grow. Also, the Snark has centipedes, big ones, six inches long. We kill them occasionally, usually in Charmian’s bunk151. I’ve been bitten twice by them, both times foully152, while I was asleep. But poor Martin had worse luck. After being sick in bed for three weeks, the first day he sat up he sat down on one. Sometimes I think they are the wisest who never go to Carcassonne.
Later on we returned to Malu, picked up seven recruits, hove up anchor, and started to beat out the treacherous153 entrance. The wind was chopping about, the current upon the ugly point of reef setting strong. Just as we were on the verge154 of clearing it and gaining open sea, the wind broke off four points. The Minota attempted to go about, but missed stays. Two of her anchors had been lost at Tulagi. Her one remaining anchor was let go. Chain was let out to give it a hold on the coral. Her fin keel struck bottom, and her main topmast lurched and shivered as if about to come down upon our heads. She fetched up on the slack of the anchors at the moment a big comber smashed her shoreward. The chain parted. It was our only anchor. The Minota swung around on her heel and drove headlong into the breakers.
Bedlam155 reigned156. All the recruits below, bushmen and afraid of the sea, dashed panic-stricken on deck and got in everybody’s way. At the same time the boat’s crew made a rush for the rifles. They knew what going ashore on Malaita meant—one hand for the ship and the other hand to fight off the natives. What they held on with I don’t know, and they needed to hold on as the Minota lifted, rolled, and pounded on the coral. The bushmen clung in the rigging, too witless to watch out for the topmast. The whale-boat was run out with a tow-line endeavouring in a puny157 way to prevent the Minota from being flung farther in toward the reef, while Captain Jansen and the mate, the latter pallid158 and weak with fever, were resurrecting a scrap-anchor from out the ballast and rigging up a stock for it. Mr. Caulfeild, with his mission boys, arrived in his whale-boat to help.
When the Minota first struck, there was not a canoe in sight; but like vultures circling down out of the blue, canoes began to arrive from every quarter. The boat’s crew, with rifles at the ready, kept them lined up a hundred feet away with a promise of death if they ventured nearer. And there they clung, a hundred feet away, black and ominous159, crowded with men, holding their canoes with their paddles on the perilous160 edge of the breaking surf. In the meantime the bushmen were flocking down from the hills armed with spears, Sniders, arrows, and clubs, until the beach was massed with them. To complicate161 matters, at least ten of our recruits had been enlisted162 from the very bushmen ashore who were waiting hungrily for the loot of the tobacco and trade goods and all that we had on board.
The Minota was honestly built, which is the first essential for any boat that is pounding on a reef. Some idea of what she endured may be gained from the fact that in the first twenty-four hours she parted two anchor-chains and eight hawsers163. Our boat’s crew was kept busy diving for the anchors and bending new lines. There were times when she parted the chains reinforced with hawsers. And yet she held together. Tree trunks were brought from ashore and worked under her to save her keel and bilges, but the trunks were gnawed164 and splintered and the ropes that held them frayed165 to fragments, and still she pounded and held together. But we were luckier than the Ivanhoe, a big recruiting schooner, which had gone ashore on Malaita several months previously and been promptly166 rushed by the natives. The captain and crew succeeded in getting away in the whale-boats, and the bushmen and salt-water men looted her clean of everything portable.
Squall after squall, driving wind and blinding rain, smote167 the Minota, while a heavier sea was making. The Eugenie lay at anchor five miles to windward, but she was behind a point of land and could not know of our mishap168. At Captain Jansen’s suggestion, I wrote a note to Captain Keller, asking him to bring extra anchors and gear to our aid. But not a canoe could be persuaded to carry the letter. I offered half a case of tobacco, but the blacks grinned and held their canoes bow-on to the breaking seas. A half a case of tobacco was worth three pounds. In two hours, even against the strong wind and sea, a man could have carried the letter and received in payment what he would have laboured half a year for on a plantation. I managed to get into a canoe and paddle out to where Mr. Caulfeild was running an anchor with his whale-boat. My idea was that he would have more influence over the natives. He called the canoes up to him, and a score of them clustered around and heard the offer of half a case of tobacco. No one spoke169.
“I know what you think,” the missionary called out to them. “You think plenty tobacco on the schooner and you’re going to get it. I tell you plenty rifles on schooner. You no get tobacco, you get bullets.”
At last, one man, alone in a small canoe, took the letter and started. Waiting for relief, work went on steadily170 on the Minota. Her water-tanks were emptied, and spars, sails, and ballast started shoreward. There were lively times on board when the Minota rolled one bilge down and then the other, a score of men leaping for life and legs as the trade-boxes, booms, and eighty-pound pigs of iron ballast rushed across from rail to rail and back again. The poor pretty harbour yacht! Her decks and running rigging were a raffle171. Down below everything was disrupted. The cabin floor had been torn up to get at the ballast, and rusty172 bilge-water swashed and splashed. A bushel of limes, in a mess of flour and water, charged about like so many sticky dumplings escaped from a half-cooked stew173. In the inner cabin, Nakata kept guard over our rifles and ammunition.
Three hours from the time our messenger started, a whale-boat, pressing along under a huge spread of canvas, broke through the thick of a shrieking174 squall to windward. It was Captain Keller, wet with rain and spray, a revolver in belt, his boat’s crew fully armed, anchors and hawsers heaped high amidships, coming as fast as wind could drive—the white man, the inevitable175 white man, coming to a white man’s rescue.
The vulture line of canoes that had waited so long broke and disappeared as quickly as it had formed. The corpse176 was not dead after all. We now had three whale-boats, two plying177 steadily between the vessel and shore, the other kept busy running out anchors, rebending parted hawsers, and recovering the lost anchors. Later in the afternoon, after a consultation178, in which we took into consideration that a number of our boat’s crew, as well as ten of the recruits, belonged to this place, we disarmed179 the boat’s crew. This, incidently, gave them both hands free to work for the vessel. The rifles were put in the charge of five of Mr. Caulfeild’s mission boys. And down below in the wreck of the cabin the missionary and his converts prayed to God to save the Minota. It was an impressive scene! the unarmed man of God praying with cloudless faith, his savage followers180 leaning on their rifles and mumbling181 amens. The cabin walls reeled about them. The vessel lifted and smashed upon the coral with every sea. From on deck came the shouts of men heaving and toiling, praying, in another fashion, with purposeful will and strength of arm.
That night Mr. Caulfeild brought off a warning. One of our recruits had a price on his head of fifty fathoms of shell-money and forty pigs. Baffled in their desire to capture the vessel, the bushmen decided to get the head of the man. When killing begins, there is no telling where it will end, so Captain Jansen armed a whale-boat and rowed in to the edge of the beach. Ugi, one of his boat’s crew, stood up and orated for him. Ugi was excited. Captain Jansen’s warning that any canoe sighted that night would be pumped full of lead, Ugi turned into a bellicose182 declaration of war, which wound up with a peroration183 somewhat to the following effect: “You kill my captain, I drink his blood and die with him!”
The bushmen contented184 themselves with burning an unoccupied mission house, and sneaked185 back to the bush. The next day the Eugenie sailed in and dropped anchor. Three days and two nights the Minota pounded on the reef; but she held together, and the shell of her was pulled off at last and anchored in smooth water. There we said good-bye to her and all on board, and sailed away on the Eugenie, bound for Florida Island.
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1
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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rumoured
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| adj.谣传的；传说的；风 | |
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similes
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| （使用like或as等词语的）明喻( simile的名词复数 ) | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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cartridges
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| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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corrosive
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| adj.腐蚀性的；有害的；恶毒的 | |
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sublimate
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| v.(使)升华，净化 | |
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ulcer
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| n.溃疡，腐坏物 | |
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ulcers
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| n.溃疡( ulcer的名词复数 )；腐烂物；道德败坏；腐败 | |
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abrasion
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| n.磨（擦）破，表面磨损 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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dime
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| n.（指美国、加拿大的钱币）一角 | |
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afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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huddle
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| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
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yearningly
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| 怀念地，思慕地，同情地； 渴 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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barbarian
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| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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22
equity
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| n.公正，公平，（无固定利息的）股票 | |
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isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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25
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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26
gashes
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| n.深长的切口（或伤口）( gash的名词复数 )v.划伤，割破( gash的第三人称单数 ) | |
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27
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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28
fin
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| n.鳍；(飞机的)安定翼 | |
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29
galley
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| n.（飞机或船上的）厨房单层甲板大帆船；军舰舰长用的大划艇； | |
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30
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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31
plantations
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| n.种植园，大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
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32
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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33
punctured
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| v.在（某物）上穿孔( puncture的过去式和过去分词 )；刺穿（某物）；削弱（某人的傲气、信心等）；泄某人的气 | |
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34
protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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36
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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37
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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38
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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39
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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40
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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41
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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42
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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43
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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44
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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45
doughty
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| adj.勇猛的，坚强的 | |
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46
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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47
utensils
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| 器具，用具，器皿( utensil的名词复数 )； 器物 | |
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48
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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49
teaspoon
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| n.茶匙 | |
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50
erratic
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| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
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51
fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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52
fathoms
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| 英寻( fathom的名词复数 ) | |
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53
alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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54
mangrove
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| n.(植物)红树，红树林 | |
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55
hacked
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| 生气 | |
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56
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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57
buckling
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| 扣住 | |
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58
ply
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| v.(搬运工等)等候顾客，弯曲 | |
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59
wrecks
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| n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 )；（事故中）遭严重毁坏的汽车（或飞机等）；（身体或精神上）受到严重损伤的人；状况非常糟糕的车辆（或建筑物等）v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 )；使（船舶）失事，使遇难，使下沉 | |
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60
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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61
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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62
vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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63
lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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64
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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65
lurk
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| n.潜伏，潜行；v.潜藏，潜伏，埋伏 | |
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66
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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67
dynamiting
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| v.（尤指用于采矿的）甘油炸药( dynamite的现在分词 )；会引起轰动的人[事物]；增重 | |
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68
steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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69
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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70
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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71
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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72
dynamite
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| n./vt.(用)炸药(爆破) | |
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73
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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74
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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75
lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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76
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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77
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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78
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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79
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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80
valid
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| adj.有确实根据的；有效的；正当的，合法的 | |
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81
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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82
reprisals
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| n.报复（行为）( reprisal的名词复数 ) | |
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83
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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84
navigated
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| v.给（船舶、飞机等）引航，导航( navigate的过去式和过去分词 )；（从海上、空中等）横越；横渡；飞跃 | |
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85
humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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86
strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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87
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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88
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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apprehend
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| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
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90
estuary
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| n.河口，江口 | |
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91
wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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92
taboo
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| n.禁忌，禁止接近，禁止使用；adj.禁忌的；v.禁忌，禁制，禁止 | |
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93
vindicated
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| v.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的过去式和过去分词 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护 | |
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94
malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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95
immunity
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| n.优惠；免除；豁免，豁免权 | |
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ego
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| n.自我，自己，自尊 | |
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97
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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98
dressings
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| n.敷料剂；穿衣( dressing的名词复数 )；穿戴；（拌制色拉的）调料；（保护伤口的）敷料 | |
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99
panacea
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| n.万灵药；治百病的灵药 | |
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100
founders
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| n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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101
survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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102
massacres
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| 大屠杀( massacre的名词复数 )； 惨败 | |
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103
provender
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| n.刍草；秣料 | |
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104
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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105
truces
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| 休战( truce的名词复数 )； 停战（协定）； 停止争辩（的协议）； 中止 | |
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106
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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107
bartering
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| v.作物物交换，以货换货( barter的现在分词 ) | |
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108
craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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109
schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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110
swapped
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| 交换（工作）( swap的过去式和过去分词 )； 用…替换，把…换成，掉换（过来） | |
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111
courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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112
killings
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| 谋杀( killing的名词复数 )； 突然发大财，暴发 | |
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113
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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114
taro
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| n.芋，芋头 | |
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115
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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116
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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117
valiantly
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| adv.勇敢地，英勇地；雄赳赳 | |
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118
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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119
toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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120
necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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122
missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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123
atoned
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| v.补偿，赎（罪）( atone的过去式和过去分词 )；补偿，弥补，赎回 | |
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124
exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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125
indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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126
adorning
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| 修饰，装饰物 | |
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127
pneumonia
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| n.肺炎 | |
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128
strapping
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| adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
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129
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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130
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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131
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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132
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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133
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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134
banish
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| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
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135
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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136
parasite
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| n.寄生虫；寄生菌；食客 | |
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137
itching
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| adj.贪得的，痒的，渴望的v.发痒( itch的现在分词 ) | |
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138
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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139
lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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140
cleansing
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| n. 净化(垃圾) adj. 清洁用的 动词cleanse的现在分词 | |
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141
deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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142
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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143
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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144
cadge
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| v.乞讨 | |
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145
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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146
meekness
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| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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147
humbleness
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| n.谦卑，谦逊；恭顺 | |
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148
appallingly
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| 毛骨悚然地 | |
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149
prostrated
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| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的过去式和过去分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
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150
cockroaches
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| n.蟑螂( cockroach的名词复数 ) | |
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151
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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152
foully
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| ad.卑鄙地 | |
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153
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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154
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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155
bedlam
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| n.混乱，骚乱；疯人院 | |
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156
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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157
puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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158
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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159
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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160
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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161
complicate
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| vt.使复杂化，使混乱，使难懂 | |
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162
enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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163
hawsers
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| n.（供系船或下锚用的）缆索，锚链( hawser的名词复数 ) | |
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164
gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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165
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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166
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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167
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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168
mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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169
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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170
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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171
raffle
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| n.废物，垃圾，抽奖售卖；v.以抽彩出售 | |
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172
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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173
stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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174
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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175
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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176
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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177
plying
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的现在分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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178
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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179
disarmed
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| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
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180
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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181
mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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182
bellicose
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| adj.好战的；好争吵的 | |
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183
peroration
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| n.（演说等之）结论 | |
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184
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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185
sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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