the house of pride(傲慢之家)-第11章
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〃Lookthey are coming now。〃
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THE HOUSE OF PRIDE
Koolau turned and watched the remnant of his band approach。
Groaning and sighing； a ghastly procession； it dragged its wretchedness
past。 It was given to Koolau to taste a deeper bitterness； for they hurled
imprecations and insults at him as they went by； and the panting hag
who brought up the rear halted； and with skinny； harpy…claws extended；
shaking her snarling death's head from side to side； she laid a curse upon
him。 One by one they dropped over the lip…edge and surrendered to the
hiding soldiers。
〃You can go now；〃 said Koolau to the captain。 〃I will never give
myself up。 That is my last word。 Good…bye。〃
The captain slipped over the cliff to his soldiers。 The next moment；
and without a flag of truce； he hoisted his hat on his scabbard； and
Koolau's bullet tore through it。 That afternoon they shelled him out
from the beach； and as he retreated into the high inaccessible pockets
beyond； the soldiers followed him。
For six weeks they hunted him from pocket to pocket； over the
volcanic peaks and along the goat…trails。 When he hid in the lantana
jungle； they formed lines of beaters； and through lantana jungle and
guava scrub they drove him like a rabbit。 But ever he turned and
doubled and eluded。 There was no cornering him。 When pressed too
closely； his sure rifle held them back and they carried their wounded
down the goat…trails to the beach。 There were times when they did the
shooting as his brown body showed for a moment through the
underbrush。 Once； five of them caught him on an exposed goat…trail
between pockets。 They emptied their rifles at him as he limped and
climbed along his dizzy way。 Afterwards they found bloodstains and
knew that he was wounded。 At the end of six weeks they gave up。
The soldiers and police returned to Honolulu； and Kalalau Valley was
left to him for his own； though head…hunters ventured after him from
time to time and to their own undoing。
Two years later； and for the last time； Koolau crawled into a thicket
and lay down among the ti…leaves and wild ginger blossoms。 Free he
had lived； and free he was dying。 A slight drizzle of rain began to fall；
and he drew a ragged blanket about the distorted wreck of his limbs。
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THE HOUSE OF PRIDE
His body was covered with an oilskin coat。 Across his chest he laid his
Mauser rifle； lingering affectionately for a moment to wipe the
dampness from the barrel。 The hand with which he wiped had no
fingers left upon it with which to pull the trigger。
He closed his eyes； for； from the weakness in his body and the fuzzy
turmoil in his brain； he knew that his end was near。 Like a wild animal
he had crept into hiding to die。 Half…conscious； aimless and wandering；
he lived back in his life to his early manhood on Niihau。 As life faded
and the drip of the rain grew dim in his ears it seemed to him that he was
once more in the thick of the horse… breaking； with raw colts rearing and
bucking under him； his stirrups tied together beneath； or charging madly
about the breaking corral and driving the helping cowboys over the rails。
The next instant； and with seeming naturalness； he found himself
pursuing the wild bulls of the upland pastures； roping them and leading
them down to the valleys。 Again the sweat and dust of the branding
pen stung his eyes and bit his nostrils。
All his lusty； whole…bodied youth was his； until the sharp pangs of
impending dissolution brought him back。 He lifted his monstrous
hands and gazed at them in wonder。 But how？ Why？ Why should the
wholeness of that wild youth of his change to this？ Then he
remembered； and once again； and for a moment； he was Koolau； the
leper。 His eyelids fluttered wearily down and the drip of the rain
ceased in his ears。 A prolonged trembling set up in his body。 This； too；
ceased。 He half…lifted his head； but it fell back。 Then his eyes opened；
and did not close。 His last thought was of his Mauser； and he pressed it
against his chest with his folded； fingerless hands。
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THE HOUSE OF PRIDE
GOOD…BYE； JACK
Hawaii is a queer place。 Everything socially is what I may call
topsy…turvy。 Not but what things are correct。 They are almost too
much so。 But still things are sort of upside down。 The most ultra…
exclusive set there is the 〃Missionary Crowd。〃 It comes with rather a
shock to learn that in Hawaii the obscure martyrdom…seeking missionary
sits at the head of the table of the moneyed aristocracy。 But it is true。
The humble New Englanders who came out in the third decade of the
nineteenth century； came for the lofty purpose of teaching the kanakas
the true religion； the worship of the one only genuine and undeniable
God。 So well did they succeed in this； and also in civilizing the kanaka；
that by the second or third generation he was practically extinct。 This
being the fruit of the seed of the Gospel； the fruit of the seed of the
missionaries （the sons and the grandsons） was the possession of the
islands themselves；of the land； the ports； the town sites； and the sugar
plantations： The missionary who came to give the bread of life
remained to gobble up the whole heathen feast。
But that is not the Hawaiian queerness I started out to tell。 Only
one cannot speak of things Hawaiian without mentioning the
missionaries。 There is Jack Kersdale； the man I wanted to tell about； he
came of missionary stock。 That is； on his grandmother's side。 His
grandfather was old Benjamin Kersdale； a Yankee trader； who got his
start for a million in the old days by selling cheap whiskey and square…
face gin。 There's another queer thing。 The old missionaries and old
traders were mortal enemies。 You see； their interests conflicted。 But
their children made it up by intermarrying and dividing the island
between them。
Life in Hawaii is a song。 That's the way Stoddard put it in his
〃Hawaii No
