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south sea tales(南海传说)-第27部分

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                                       SOUTH SEA TALES 



     〃Well; then where did the beggar get that Snider?〃 harped Mr。 Brown。 

     But just then McTavish lifted the packing case。 The manager started; 

then tore off the lid。 The case   was empty。 They  gazed at one another   in 

horrified silence。 Harriwell drooped wearily。 

     Then McVeigh cursed。 

     〃What I contended all alongthe house…boys are not to be trusted。〃 

     〃It does look serious;〃 Harriwell admitted; 〃but we'll come through it 

all   right。   What   the   sanguinary   niggers   need   is   a   shaking   up。   Will   you 

gentlemen   please   bring   your   rifles   to   dinner;   and   will   you;   Mr。   Brown; 

kindly prepare forty or fifty sticks of dynamite。 'make the fuses good and 

short。 We'll give them a lesson。 And now; gentlemen; dinner is served。〃 

     One thing that Bertie detested was rice and curry; so it happened that 

he   alone   partook   of   an   inviting   omelet。   He   had   quite   finished   his   plate; 

when   Harriwell   helped   himself   to   the   omelet。      One   mouthful   he   tasted; 

then spat out vociferously。 

     〃That's the second time;〃 McTavish announced ominously。 

     Harriwell was still hawking and spitting。 

     〃Second time; what?〃 Bertie quavered。 

     〃Poison;〃 was the answer。 〃That cook will be hanged yet。〃 

     〃That's   the   way   the   bookkeeper   went   out   at   Cape   March;〃   Brown 

spoke   up。   〃Died   horribly。   They   said   on   the   Jessie   that   they   heard   him 

screaming three miles away。〃 

     〃I'll  put   the   cook   in   irons;〃   sputtered    Harriwell。    〃Fortunately     we 

discovered it in time。〃 

     Bertie sat paralyzed。 There was no color in his face。 He attempted to 

speak; but only an inarticulate gurgle resulted。            All eyed him anxiously。 

     〃Don't say it; don't say it;〃 McTavish cried in a tense voice。 

     〃Yes; I ate it; plenty of it; a whole plateful!〃 Bertie cried explosively; 

like a diver suddenly regaining breath。 

     The awful silence continued half a minute longer; and he read his fate 

in their eyes。 

     〃Maybe it wasn't poison after all;〃 said Harriwell; dismally。 

     〃Call in the cook;〃 said Brown。 

     In came the cook; a grinning black boy; nose…spiked and ear…plugged。 



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     〃Here;   you;   Wi…wi;   what   name   that?〃   Harriwell   bellowed;   pointing 

accusingly at the omelet。 

     Wi…wi was very naturally frightened and embarrassed。 

     〃Him good fella kai…kai;〃 he murmured apologetically。 

     〃Make him eat it;〃 suggested McTavish。 〃That's a proper test。〃 

     Harriwell filled a spoon with the stuff and jumped for the cook; who 

fled in panic。 

     〃That settles   it;〃   was   Brown's solemn   pronouncement。  〃He   won't   eat 

it。〃 

     〃Mr。 Brown; will you please go and put the irons on him?〃                   Harriwell 

turned cheerfully to Bertie。 〃It's all right; old man; the Commissioner will 

deal with him; and if you die; depend upon it; he will be hanged。〃 

     〃Don't think the government'll do it;〃 objected McTavish。 

     〃But gentlemen;  gentlemen;〃   Bertie   cried。  〃In   the   meantime   think   of 

me。〃 

     Harriwell shrugged his shoulders pityingly。 

     〃Sorry;   old   man;   but   it's   a   native   poison;   and   there   are   no   known 

antidotes for native poisons。 Try and compose yourself and if〃 

     Two   sharp   reports   of   a   rifle   from   without;   interrupted   the   discourse; 

and Brown; entering; reloaded his rifle and sat down to table。 

     〃The cook's dead;〃 he said。 〃Fever。 A rather sudden attack。〃 

     〃I was just telling Mr。 Arkwright that there are no antidotes for native 

poisons〃 

     〃Except gin;〃 said Brown。 

     Harriwell called himself an absent…minded idiot and rushed for the gin 

bottle。 

     〃Neat; man; neat;〃 he warned Bertie; who gulped down a tumbler two… 

thirds full of the raw spirits; and coughed and choked from the angry bite 

of it till the tears ran down his cheeks。 

     Harriwell took his pulse and temperature; made a show of looking out 

for   him;   and   doubted   that   the   omelet   had   been   poisoned。      Brown   and 

McTavish   also   doubted;   but   Bertie   discerned   an   insincere   ring   in   their 

voices。   His   appetite   had   left   him;   and   he   took   his   own   pulse   stealthily 

under the table。 There was no question but what it was increasing; but he 



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failed to ascribe it to the gin he had taken。 'mcTavish; rifle in hand; went 

out on the veranda to reconnoiter。 

     〃They're massing up at the cook…house;〃 was his report。 〃And they've 

no end of Sniders。 'my idea is to sneak around on the other side and take 

them   in   flank。   Strike   the   first   blow;   you   know。   Will   you   come   along; 

Brown?〃 

     Harriwell   ate   on   steadily;   while   Bertie   discovered   that   his   pulse   had 

leaped   up   five beats。   Nevertheless; he   could not   help   jumping   when   the 

rifles began to go off。 Above the scattering of Sniders could be heard the 

pumping        of   Brown's      and    McTavish's       Winchestersall       against    a 

background of demoniacal screeching and yelling。 

     〃They've   got   them   on   the   run;〃   Harriwell   remarked;   as   voices   and 

gunshots faded away in the distance。 

     Scarcely were Brown and McTavish back at the table when the latter 

reconnoitered。 

     〃They've got dynamite;〃 he said。 

     〃Then let's charge them with dynamite;〃 Harriwell proposed。 

     Thrusting   half   a   dozen   sticks   each   into   their   pockets   and   equipping 

themselves with lighted cigars; they started for the door。 And just then it 

happened。 They  blamed McTavish   for   it afterward;  and he   admitted that 

the charge had been a trifle excessive。 But at any rate it went off under the 

house; which lifted up cornerwise and settled back on its foundations。 Half 

the   china   on   the   table   was   shattered;   while   the   eight…day  clock   stopped。 

Yelling   for   vengeance;   the   three   men   rushed   out   into   the   night;   and   the 

bombardment began。 

     When   they   returned;   there   was   no   Bertie。   He   had   dragged   himself 

away to the office; barricaded himself in; and sunk upon the floor in a gin… 

soaked nightmare; wherein he died a thousand deaths while the valorous 

fight went on around him。 In the morning; sick and headachey from  the 

gin; he crawled out to find the sun still in the sky and God presumable in 

heaven; for his hosts were alive and uninjured。 

     Harriwell pressed him to stay on longer; but Bertie insisted on sailing 

immediately on the Arla for Tulagi; where; until the following steamer day; 

he stuck close by the Commissioner's house。 There were lady tourists on 



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the outgoing steamer; and Bertie was again a hero; while Captain Malu; as 

usual;   passed   unnoticed。   But   Captain   Malu   sent   back   from   Sydney   two 

cases   of   the   best   Scotch   whiskey   on   the   market;   for   he   was   not   able   to 

make up his mind as to whether it was Captain Hansen or Mr Harriwell 

who had given Bertie Arkwright the more gorgeous insight into life in the 

Solomons。 



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                                      SOUTH SEA TALES 



      THE INEVITABLE WHITE MAN 



     〃The black will never understand the white; nor the white the black; as 

long as black is black and white is white。〃 

     So said Captain Woodward。 We sat in the parlor of Charley Roberts' 

pub in Apia; drinking long Abu Hameds compounded and shared with us 

by   the   aforesaid   Charley   Roberts;   who   claimed   the   recipe   direct   from 

Stevens;  famous   for having invented the Abu  Hamed   at   a   time   when   he 

was spurred on by Nile thirstthe Stevens who was responsible for 〃With 

Kitchener to Kartoun;〃 and who passed out at the siege of Ladysmith。 

     Captain Woodward; short and squat; elderly; burned by forty years of 

tropic sun; and with the most beautiful liquid brown eyes I ever saw in a 

man; spoke from a vast experience。 The crisscross of scars on his bald pate 

bespoke a tomahawk intimacy with the black; and of equal intimacy was 

the advertisement; front and rear; on the right side of his neck; where an 

arrow   had   at   one   time   entered   and   been   pulled   clean   through。   As    he 

explained; he had been in a hu
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