south sea tales-第4部分

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The　wind　strangled　him。　He　could　not　face　it　and　breathe；　for　it　rushed　in

through　his　mouth　and　nostrils；　distending　his　lungs　like　bladders。　At　such

moments　it　seemed　to　him　that　his　body　was　being　packed　and　swollen　with　solid

earth。　Only　by　pressing　his　lips　to　the　trunk　of　the　tree　could　he　breathe。

Also；　the　ceaseless　impact　of　the　wind　exhausted　him。　Body　and　brain　became

wearied。　He　no　longer　observed；　no　longer　thought；　and　was　but　semiconscious。

One　idea　constituted　his　consciousness：　SO　THIS　WAS　A　HURRICANE。　That　one　idea

persisted　irregularly。　It　was　like　a　feeble　flame　that　flickered　occasionally。

From　a　state　of　stupor　he　would　return　to　itSO　THIS　WAS　A　HURRICANE。　　Then

he　would　go　off　into　another　stupor。



The　height　of　the　hurricane　endured　from　eleven　at　night　till　three　in　the

morning；　and　it　was　at　eleven　that　the　tree　in　which　clung　Mapuhi　and　his

women　snapped　off。　Mapuhi　rose　to　the　surface　of　the　lagoon；　still　clutching

his　daughter　Ngakura。　　Only　a　South　Sea　islander　could　have　lived　in　such　a

driving　smother。　The　pandanus　tree；　to　which　he　attached　himself；　turned　over

and　over　in　the　froth　and　churn；　and　it　was　only　by　holding　on　at　times　and

waiting；　and　at　other　times　shifting　his　grips　rapidly；　that　he　was　able　to

get　his　head　and　Ngakura's　to　the　surface　at　intervals　sufficiently　near

together　to　keep　the　breath　in　them。　But　the　air　was　mostly　water；　what　with

flying　spray　and　sheeted　rain　that　poured　along　at　right　angles　to　the

perpendicular。



It　was　ten　miles　across　the　lagoon　to　the　farther　ring　of　sand。　　Here；　tossing

tree　trunks；　timbers；　wrecks　of　cutters；　and　wreckage　of　houses；　killed　nine

out　of　ten　of　the　miserable　beings　who　survived　the　passage　of　the　lagoon。

Half…drowned；　exhausted；　they　were　hurled　into　this　mad　mortar　of　the　elements

and　battered　into　formless　flesh。　But　Mapuhi　was　fortunate。　His　chance　was　the

one　in　ten；　it　fell　to　him　by　the　freakage　of　fate。　He　emerged　upon　the　sand；

bleeding　from　a　score　of　wounds。



Ngakura's　left　arm　was　broken；　the　fingers　of　her　right　hand　were　crushed；　and

cheek　and　forehead　were　laid　open　to　the　bone。　He　clutched　a　tree　that　yet

stood；　and　clung　on；　holding　the　girl　and　sobbing　for　air；　while　the　waters　of

the　lagoon　washed　by　knee…high　and　at　times　waist…high。



At　three　in　the　morning　the　backbone　of　the　hurricane　broke。　By　five　no　more

than　a　stiff　breeze　was　blowing。　And　by　six　it　was　dead　calm　and　the　sun　was

shining。　The　sea　had　gone　down。　On　the　yet　restless　edge　of　the　lagoon；　Mapuhi

saw　the　broken　bodies　of　those　that　had　failed　in　the　landing。　Undoubtedly

Tefara　and　Nauri　were　among　them。　He　went　along　the　beach　examining　them；　and

came　upon　his　wife；　lying　half　in　and　half　out　of　the　water。　　He　sat　down　and

wept；　making　harsh　animal　noises　after　the　manner　of　primitive　grief。　Then　she

stirred　uneasily；　and　groaned。　He　looked　more　closely。　Not　only　was　she　alive；

but　she　was　uninjured。　She　was　merely　sleeping。　Hers　also　had　been　the　one

chance　in　ten。



Of　the　twelve　hundred　alive　the　night　before　but　three　hundred　remained。　The

mormon　missionary　and　a　gendarme　made　the　census。　　The　lagoon　was　cluttered

with　corpses。　Not　a　house　nor　a　hut　was　standing。　In　the　whole　atoll　not　two

stones　remained　one　upon　another。　One　in　fifty　of　the　cocoanut　palms　still

stood；　and　they　were　wrecks；　while　on　not　one　of　them　remained　a　single　nut。



There　was　no　fresh　water。　The　shallow　wells　that　caught　the　surface　seepage　of

the　rain　were　filled　with　salt。　Out　of　the　lagoon　a　few　soaked　bags　of　flour

were　recovered。　The　survivors　cut　the　hearts　out　of　the　fallen　cocoanut　trees

and　ate　them。　　Here　and　there　they　crawled　into　tiny　hutches；　made　by

hollowing　out　the　sand　and　covering　over　with　fragments　of　metal　roofing。　　The

missionary　made　a　crude　still；　but　he　could　not　distill　water　for　three

hundred　persons。　By　the　end　of　the　second　day；　Raoul；　taking　a　bath　in　the

lagoon；　discovered　that　his　thirst　was　somewhat　relieved。　He　cried　out　the

news；　and　thereupon　three　hundred　men；　women；　and　children　could　have　been

seen；　standing　up　to　their　necks　in　the　lagoon　and　trying　to　drink　water　in

through　their　skins。　Their　dead　floated　about　them；　or　were　stepped　upon　where

they　still　lay　upon　the　bottom。　On　the　third　day　the　people　buried　their　dead

and　sat　down　to　wait　for　the　rescue　steamers。



In　the　meantime；　Nauri；　torn　from　her　family　by　the　hurricane；　had　been　swept

away　on　an　adventure　of　her　own。　Clinging　to　a　rough　plank　that　wounded　and

bruised　her　and　that　filled　her　body　with　splinters；　she　was　thrown　clear　over

the　atoll　and　carried　away　to　sea。　Here；　under　the　amazing　buffets　of

mountains　of　water；　she　lost　her　plank。　She　was　an　old　woman　nearly　sixty；　but

she　was　Paumotan…born；　and　she　had　never　been　out　of　sight　of　the　sea　in　her

life。　Swimming　in　the　darkness；　strangling；　suffocating；　fighting　for　air；　she

was　struck　a　heavy　blow　on　the　shoulder　by　a　cocoanut。　On　the　instant　her　plan

was　formed；　and　she　seized　the　nut。　In　the　next　hour　she　captured　seven　more。　

Tied　together；　they　formed　a　life…buoy　that　preserved　her　life　while　at　the

same　time　it　threatened　to　pound　her　to　a　jelly。　　She　was　a　fat　woman；　and　she

bruised　easily；　but　she　had　had　experience　of　hurricanes；　and　while　she　prayed

to　her　shark　god　for　protection　from　sharks；　she　waited　for　the　wind　to　break。　

But　at　three　o'clock　she　was　in　such　a　stupor　that　she　did　not　know。　Nor　did

she　know　at　six　o'clock　when　the　dead　calm　settled　down。　She　was　shocked　into

consciousness　when　she　was　thrown　upon　the　sand。　She　dug　in　with　raw　and

bleeding　hands　and　feet　and　clawed　against　the　backwash　until　she　was　beyond

the　reach　of　the　waves。



She　knew　where　she　was。　This　land　could　be　no　other　than　the　tiny　islet　of

Takokota。　It　had　no　lagoon。　No　one　lived　upon　it。



Hikueru　was　fifteen　miles　away。　She　could　not　see　Hikueru；　but　she　knew　that

it　lay　to　the　south。　The　days　went　by；　and　she　lived　on　the　cocoanuts　that　had

kept　her　afloat。　They　supplied　her　with　drinking　water　and　with　food。　But　she

did　not　drink　all　she　wanted；　nor　eat　all　she　wanted。　Rescue　was

problematical。　　She　saw　the　smoke　of　the　rescue　steamers　on　the　horizon；　but

what　steamer　could　be　expected　to　come　to　lonely；　uninhabited　Takokota？



From　the　first　she　was　tormented　by　corpses。　The　sea　persisted　in　flinging

them　upon　her　bit　of　sand；　and　she　persisted；　until　her　strength　failed；　in

thrusting　them　back　into　the　sea　where　the　sharks　tore　at　them　and　devoured

them。　When　her　strength　failed；　the　bodies　festooned　her　beach　with　ghastly

horror；　and　she　withdrew　from　them　as　far　as　she　could；　which　was　not　far。



By　the　tenth　day　her　last　cocoanut　was　gone；　and　she　was　shrivelling　from

thirst。　She　dragged　herself　along　the　sand；　looking　for　cocoanuts。　It　was

strange　that　so　many　bodies　floated　up；　and　no　nuts。　Surely；　there　were　more

cocoanuts　afloat　than　dead　men！　She　gave　up　at　last；　and　lay　exhausted。　The

end　had　come。　Nothing　remained　but　to　wait　for　death。



Coming　out　of　a　stupor；　she　became　slowly　aware　that　she　was　gazing　at　a　patch

of　sandy…red　hair　on　the　head　of　a　corpse。　The　sea　flung　the　body　toward　her；

then　drew　it　back。　It　turned　over；　and　she　saw　that　it　had　no　face。　Yet　there

was　something　familiar　about　that　patch　of　sandy…red　hair。　An　hour　passed。　She

did　not　exert　herself　to　make　the　identification。　She　was　waiting　to　die；　and

it　mattered　little　to　her　what　man　that　thing　of　horror　once　might　have　been。



But　at　the　end　of　the　hour　she　sat　up　slowly　and　stared　at　the　corpse。　An

unusually　large　wave　had　thrown　it　beyond　the　reach　of　the　lesser　waves。　Yes；

she　was　right；　that　patch　of　red　hair　could　belong　to　but　one　man　in　the

Paumotus。　It　was　Levy；　the　German　Jew；　the　man　who　had　bought　the　pearl　and

carried　it　away　on　the　Hira。　Well；　one　thing　was　evident：　The　Hira　had　been

lost。　The　pearl　buyer's　god　of　fishermen　and　thieves　had　gone　back　on　him。



She　crawled　down　to　the　dead　man。　His　shirt　had　been　torn　away；　and　she　could

see　the　leather　money　belt　about　his　waist。　She　held　her　breath　and　tugged　at

the　buckles。　They　gave　easier　than　she　had　expected；　and　she　crawled　hurriedly

away　across　the　sand；　dragging　the　belt　after　her。　Pocket　after　pocket　she

unbuckled　in　the　belt　and　found　empty。　Where　could　he　have　put　it？　In　the　last

pocket　of　all　she　found　it；　the　first　and　only　pearl　he　had　bought　on　the

voyage。　She　crawled　a　few　feet　farther；　to　escape　the　pestilence　of　the　belt；

and　examined　the　pearl。　It　was　the　one　Mapuhi　had　found　and　been　robbed　of　by

Toriki。　She　weighed　it　in　her　hand　and　rolled　it　back　and　forth　caressingly。

But　in　it　she　saw　no　intrinsic　beauty。　What　she　did　see　was　the　house　Mapuhi

and　Tefara　and　she　had　builded　so　carefully　in　their　minds。　Each　time　she

looked　at　the　pearl　she　saw　the　house　in　all　its　details；　including　the

octagon…drop…clock　on　the　wall。　　That　was　something　to　live　for。



She　tore　a　strip　from　her　ahu　and　tied　the　pearl　securely　about　her　neck。　Then

she　went　on　along　the　beach；　panting　and　groaning；　but　resolutely　seeking　for

cocoanuts。　Quickly　she　found　one；　and；　as　she　glanced　around；　a　second。　She

broke　one；　drinking　its　water；　which　was　mildewy；　and　eating　the　last　particle

of　the　meat。　A　little　later　she　found　a　shattered　dugout。　Its　outrigger　was

gone；　but　she　was　hopeful；　and；　before　the　day　was　out；　she　found　the

outrigger。　Every　find　was　an　augury。　The　pearl　was　a　talisman。　Late　in　the

afternoon　she　saw　a　wooden　box　floating　low　in　the　water。　When　she　dragged　it

out　on　the　beach　its　contents　rattled；　and　inside　she　found　ten　tins　of

salmon。　She　opened　one　by　hammering　it　on　the　canoe。　When　a　leak　was　started；

she　drained　the　tin。　After　that　she　spent　several　hours　in　extracting　the

salmon；　hammering　and　squeezing　it　out　a　morsel　at　a　time。



Eight　days　longer　she　waited　for　rescue。　In　the　meantime　she　fastened　the

outrigger