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the red one(红色的那人)-第37章

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de…mer; trading hoop…iron and hatchets for copra and ivory… nuts; running 

niggers and all the rest of it。          Why; even in Fiji the Lotu was having a 

hard   time   of   it   and   the   chiefs   still   eating   long…pig。 To   the   westward   it 



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was   fierce   …   funny   little   black   kinky…heads;   man…eaters   the   last   Jack   of 

them; and the jackpot fat and spilling over with wealth … 〃 

     〃Jack…pots?〃   Fatty   queried。        At   sight   of   an   irritable   movement;   he 

added:      〃You see; I never got over to the West like Delarouse and you。〃 

     〃They're     all  head…hunters。      Heads      are  valuable;    especially   a   white 

man's head。       They decorate the canoe…houses and devil…devil houses with 

them。      Each     village   runs   a  jack…pot;    and   everybody      antes。   Whoever 

brings in a white man's head takes the pot。               If there aren't openers for a 

long time; the pot grows to tremendous proportions。                   Beastly funny; isn't 

it? 

     〃I   know。    Didn't   a   Holland   mate   die   on   me   of   blackwater?        And 

didn't I win a pot myself?          It was this way。       We were lying at Lango…lui 

at the time。     I never let on; and arranged the affair with Johnny; my boat… 

steerer。    He   was   a   kinky…head   himself   from   Port   Moresby。        He   cut   the 

dead mate's   head   off   and sneaked   ashore   in   the   might;  while   I   whanged 

away with my rifle as if I were trying to get him。               He opened the pot with 

the mate's head; and got it; too。           Of course; next day I sent in a landing 

boat; with two covering boats; and fetched him off with the loot。〃 

     〃How  big   was   the   pot?〃 Whiskers   asked。          〃I   heard   of   a   pot   at   Orla 

worth eighty quid。〃 

     〃To commence with;〃 Slim answered; 〃there were forty fat pigs; each 

worth   a   fathom   of   prime   shell…money;   and   shell…money   worth   a   quid   a 

fathom。      That was two hundred dollars right there。                There were ninety… 

eight   fathoms   of   shell…money;   which   is   pretty   close   to   five   hundred   in 

itself。   And there were twenty…two gold sovereigns。                  I split it four ways: 

one…fourth to Johnny; one…fourth to the ship; one…fourth to me as owner; 

and one…fourth to me as skipper。            Johnny never complained。            He'd never 

had   so   much   wealth   all   at   one   time   in   his   life。 Besides;   I   gave   him   a 

couple of the mate's old shirts。 And I fancy the mate's head is still there 

decorating the canoe… house。〃 

     〃Not exactly Christian burial of a Christian;〃 Whiskers observed。 

     〃But a lucrative burial;〃 Slim retorted。            〃I had to feed the rest of the 

mate   over…side   to   the   sharks   for   nothing。     Think   of   feeding   an   eight… 

hundred…dollar   head   along   with   it。      It   would   have   been   criminal   waste 



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and stark lunacy。 

     〃Well;   anyway;   it   was   all   beastly  funny;   over   there   to   the   westward。 

And; without telling you the scrape I got into at Taki… Tiki; except that I 

sailed away with two hundred kinky…heads for Queensland labour; and for 

my manner of collecting them had two British ships of war combing the 

Pacific for me; I changed my course and ran to the westward thinking to 

dispose of the lot to the Spanish plantations on Bangar。 

     〃Typhoon      season。     We     caught   it。   The    MERRY       MIST     was    my 

schooner's name; and I had thought she was stoutly built until she hit that 

typhoon。      I never saw such seas。       They pounded that stout craft to pieces; 

literally so。    The sticks were jerked out of her; deckhouses splintered to 

match…wood; rails ripped off; and; after the worst had passed; the covering 

boards began to go。        We just managed to repair what was left of one boat 

and keep the schooner afloat only till the sea went down barely enough to 

get away。      And   we   outfitted   that   boat in   a   hurry。 The   carpenter   and   I 

were the last; and we had to jump for it as he went down。                   There were 

only four of us … 〃 

     〃Lost all the niggers?〃 Whiskers inquired。 

     〃Some   of   them   swam   for   some   time;〃   Slim   replied。      〃But   I   don't 

fancy they made the land。          We were ten days' in doing it。         And we had a 

spanking breeze most of the way。            And what do you think we had in the 

boat with us?       Cases of square…face gin and cases of dynamite。               Funny; 

wasn't it?     Well; it got funnier later on。       Oh; there was a small beaker of 

water; a little salt horse; and some salt…water…soaked sea biscuit … enough 

to keep us alive to Tagalag。 

     〃Now      Tagalag    is  the  disappointingest     island   I've  ever   beheld。    It 

shows up out of the sea so as you can make its fall twenty miles off。                 It is 

a volcano cone thrust up out of deep sea; with a segment of the crater wall 

broken out。      This gives sea entrance to the crater itself; and makes a fine 

sheltered harbour。       And that's all。    Nothing lives there。       The outside and 

the inside of the crater are too steep。          At one place; inside; is a patch of 

about a thousand coconut palms。             And that's all; as I said; saving a few 

insects。    No   four…legged   thing;   even   a   rat;   inhabits   the   place。   And   it's 

funny; most awful funny; with all those coconuts; not even a coconut crab。 



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The only meat…food living was schools of mullet in the harbour … fattest; 

finest; biggest mullet I ever laid eyes on。 

     〃And the four of us landed on the little beach and set up housekeeping 

among the coconuts with a larder full of dynamite and square…face。                     Why 

don't you laugh?        It's funny; I tell you。      Try it some time。 … Holland gin 

and   straight   coconut   diet。    I've   never   been   able   to   look   a   confectioner's 

window in the face since。          Now I'm not strong on religion like Chauncey 

Delarouse there; but I have some primitive ideas; and my concept of hell is 

an   illimitable   coconut   plantation;   stocked   with   cases   of   square…face   and 

populated   by   ship…wrecked   mariners。         Funny?       It   must   make   the   devil 

scream。 

     〃You     know;     straight   coconut     is   what    the   agriculturists    call   an 

unbalanced   ration。      It   certainly   unbalanced   our   digestions。      We   go
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