the red one-第6章

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hollowness　that　it　certainly　possessed；　could　not　be　the　result　of

mere　fortuitousness。　　A　child　of　intelligences；　remote　and

unguessable；　working　corporally　in　metals；　it　indubitably　was。　　He

stared　at　it　in　amaze；　his　brain　a　racing　wild…fire　of　hypotheses

to　account　for　this　far…journeyer　who　had　adventured　the　night　of

space；　threaded　the　stars；　and　now　rose　before　him　and　above　him；

exhumed　by　patient　anthropophagi；　pitted　and　lacquered　by　its　fiery

bath　in　two　atmospheres。



But　was　the　colour　a　lacquer　of　heat　upon　some　familiar　metal？　　Or

was　it　an　intrinsic　quality　of　the　metal　itself？　　He　thrust　in　the

blue…point　of　his　pocket…knife　to　test　the　constitution　of　the

stuff。　　Instantly　the　entire　sphere　burst　into　a　mighty　whispering；

sharp　with　protest；　almost　twanging　goldenly；　if　a　whisper　could

possibly　be　considered　to　twang；　rising　higher；　sinking　deeper；　the

two　extremes　of　the　registry　of　sound　threatening　to　complete　the

circle　and　coalesce　into　the　bull…mouthed　thundering　he　had　so

often　heard　beyond　the　taboo　distance。



Forgetful　of　safety；　of　his　own　life　itself；　entranced　by　the

wonder　of　the　unthinkable　and　unguessable　thing；　he　raised　his

knife　to　strike　heavily　from　a　long　stroke；　but　was　prevented　by

Balatta。　　She　upreared　on　her　own　knees　in　an　agony　of　terror；

clasping　his　knees　and　supplicating　him　to　desist。　　In　the

intensity　of　her　desire　to　impress　him；　she　put　her　forearm　between

her　teeth　and　sank　them　to　the　bone。



He　scarcely　observed　her　act；　although　he　yielded　automatically　to

his　gentler　instincts　and　withheld　the　knife…hack。　　To　him；　human

life　had　dwarfed　to　microscopic　proportions　before　this　colossal

portent　of　higher　life　from　within　the　distances　of　the　sidereal

universe。　　As　had　she　been　a　dog；　he　kicked　the　ugly　little

bushwoman　to　her　feet　and　compelled　her　to　start　with　him　on　an

encirclement　of　the　base。　　Part　way　around；　he　encountered　horrors。

Even；　among　the　others；　did　he　recognize　the　sun…shrivelled　remnant

of　the　nine…years　girl　who　had　accidentally　broken　Chief　Vngngn's

personality　taboo。　　And；　among　what　was　left　of　these　that　had

passed；　he　encountered　what　was　left　of　one　who　had　not　yet　passed。

Truly　had　the　bush…folk　named　themselves　into　the　name　of　the　Red

One；　seeing　in　him　their　own　image　which　they　strove　to　placate　and

please　with　such　red　offerings。



Farther　around；　always　treading　the　bones　and　images　of　humans　and

gods　that　constituted　the　floor　of　this　ancient　charnel…house　of

sacrifice；　he　came　upon　the　device　by　which　the　Red　One　was　made　to

send　his　call　singing　thunderingly　across　the　jungle…belts　and

grass…lands　to　the　far　beach　of　Ringmanu。　　Simple　and　primitive　was

it　as　was　the　Red　One's　consummate　artifice。　　A　great　king…post；

half　a　hundred　feet　in　length；　seasoned　by　centuries　of

superstitious　care；　carven　into　dynasties　of　gods；　each

superimposed；　each　helmeted；　each　seated　in　the　open　mouth　of　a

crocodile；　was　slung　by　ropes；　twisted　of　climbing　vegetable

parasites；　from　the　apex　of　a　tripod　of　three　great　forest　trunks；

themselves　carved　into　grinning　and　grotesque　adumbrations　of　man's

modern　concepts　of　art　and　god。　　From　the　striker　king…post；　were

suspended　ropes　of　climbers　to　which　men　could　apply　their　strength

and　direction。　　Like　a　battering　ram；　this　king…post　could　be

driven　end…onward　against　the　mighty　red…iridescent　sphere。



Here　was　where　Ngurn　officiated　and　functioned　religiously　for

himself　and　the　twelve　tribes　under　him。　　Bassett　laughed　aloud；

almost　with　madness；　at　the　thought　of　this　wonderful　messenger；

winged　with　intelligence　across　space；　to　fall　into　a　bushman

stronghold　and　be　worshipped　by　ape…like；　man…eating　and　head…

hunting　savages。　　It　was　as　if　God's　World　had　fallen　into　the　muck

mire　of　the　abyss　underlying　the　bottom　of　hell；　as　if　Jehovah's

Commandments　had　been　presented　on　carved　stone　to　the　monkeys　of

the　monkey　cage　at　the　Zoo；　as　if　the　Sermon　on　the　Mount　had　been

preached　in　a　roaring　bedlam　of　lunatics。





The　slow　weeks　passed。　　The　nights；　by　election；　Bassett　spent　on

the　ashen　floor　of　the　devil…devil　house；　beneath　the　ever…

swinging；　slow…curing　heads。　　His　reason　for　this　was　that　it　was

taboo　to　the　lesser　sex　of　woman；　and　therefore；　a　refuge　for　him

from　Balatta；　who　grew　more　persecutingly　and　perilously　loverly　as

the　Southern　Cross　rode　higher　in　the　sky　and　marked　the　imminence

of　her　nuptials。　　His　days　Bassett　spent　in　a　hammock　swung　under

the　shade　of　the　great　breadfruit　tree　before　the　devil…devil

house。　　There　were　breaks　in　this　programme；　when；　in　the　comas　of

his　devastating　fever…attacks；　he　lay　for　days　and　nights　in　the

house　of　heads。　　Ever　he　struggled　to　combat　the　fever；　to　live；　to

continue　to　live；　to　grow　strong　and　stronger　against　the　day　when

he　would　be　strong　enough　to　dare　the　grass…lands　and　the　belted

jungle　beyond；　and　win　to　the　beach；　and　to　some　labour…recruiting；

black…birding　ketch　or　schooner；　and　on　to　civilization　and　the　men

of　civilization；　to　whom　he　could　give　news　of　the　message　from

other　worlds　that　lay；　darkly　worshipped　by　beastmen；　in　the　black

heart　of　Guadalcanal's　midmost　centre。



On　the　other　nights；　lying　late　under　the　breadfruit　tree；　Bassett

spent　long　hours　watching　the　slow　setting　of　the　western　stars

beyond　the　black　wall　of　jungle　where　it　had　been　thrust　back　by

the　clearing　for　the　village。　　Possessed　of　more　than　a　cursory

knowledge　of　astronomy；　he　took　a　sick　man's　pleasure　in

speculating　as　to　the　dwellers　on　the　unseen　worlds　of　those

incredibly　remote　suns；　to　haunt　whose　houses　of　light；　life　came

forth；　a　shy　visitant；　from　the　rayless　crypts　of　matter。　　He　could

no　more　apprehend　limits　to　time　than　bounds　to　space。　　No

subversive　radium　speculations　had　shaken　his　steady　scientific

faith　in　the　conservation　of　energy　and　the　indestructibility　of

matter。　　Always　and　forever　must　there　have　been　stars。　　And

surely；　in　that　cosmic　ferment；　all　must　be　comparatively　alike；

comparatively　of　the　same　substance；　or　substances；　save　for　the

freaks　of　the　ferment。　　All　must　obey；　or　compose；　the　same　laws

that　ran　without　infraction　through　the　entire　experience　of　man。

Therefore；　he　argued　and　agreed；　must　worlds　and　life　be　appanages

to　all　the　suns　as　they　were　appanages　to　the　particular　of　his　own

solar　system。



Even　as　he　lay　here；　under　the　breadfruit　tree；　an　intelligence

that　stared　across　the　starry　gulfs；　so　must　all　the　universe　be

exposed　to　the　ceaseless　scrutiny　of　innumerable　eyes；　like　his；

though　grantedly　different；　with　behind　them；　by　the　same　token；

intelligences　that　questioned　and　sought　the　meaning　and　the

construction　of　the　whole。　　So　reasoning；　he　felt　his　soul　go　forth

in　kinship　with　that　august　company；　that　multitude　whose　gaze　was

forever　upon　the　arras　of　infinity。



Who　were　they；　what　were　they；　those　far　distant　and　superior　ones

who　had　bridged　the　sky　with　their　gigantic；　red…iridescent；

heaven…singing　message？　　Surely；　and　long　since；　had　they；　too；

trod　the　path　on　which　man　had　so　recently；　by　the　calendar　of　the

cosmos；　set　his　feet。　　And　to　be　able　to　send　a　message　across　the

pit　of　space；　surely　they　had　reached　those　heights　to　which　man；

in　tears　and　travail　and　bloody　sweat；　in　darkness　and　confusion　of

many　counsels；　was　so　slowly　struggling。　　And　what　were　they　on

their　heights？　　Had　they　won　Brotherhood？　　Or　had　they　learned　that

the　law　of　love　imposed　the　penalty　of　weakness　and　decay？　　Was

strife；　life？　　Was　the　rule　of　all　the　universe　the　pitiless　rule

of　natural　selection？　　And；　and　most　immediately　and　poignantly；

were　their　far　conclusions；　their　long…won　wisdoms；　shut　even　then

in　the　huge；　metallic　heart　of　the　Red　One；　waiting　for　the　first

earth…man　to　read？　　Of　one　thing　he　was　certain：　　No　drop　of　red

dew　shaken　from　the　lion…mane　of　some　sun　in　torment；　was　the

soun