Chapter XXII--Gogoomy Finishes Along Kwaque Altogether

by Jack London

　　"I wonder what has become of Tudor. It's two months since hedisappeared into the bush, and not a word of him after he leftBinu."

　　Joan Lackland was sitting astride her horse by the bank of theBalesuna where the sweet corn had been planted, and Sheldon, whohad come across from the house on foot, was leaning against herhorse's shoulder.

　　"Yes, it is along time for no news to have trickled down," heanswered, watching her keenly from under his hat-brim and wonderingas to the measure of her anxiety for the adventurous gold-hunter;"but Tudor will come out all right. He did a thing at the startthat I wouldn't have given him or any other man credit for--persuaded Binu Charley to go along with him. I'll wager no otherBinu nigger has ever gone so far into the bush unless to be kai-kai'd. As for Tudor--"

　　"Look! look!" Joan cried in a low voice, pointing across thenarrow stream to a slack eddy where a huge crocodile drifted like alog awash. "My! I wish I had my rifle."

　　The crocodile, leaving scarcely a ripple behind, sank down anddisappeared.

　　"A Binu man was in early this morning--for medicine," Sheldonremarked. "It may have been that very brute that was responsible.A dozen of the Binu women were out, and the foremost one steppedright on a big crocodile. It was by the edge of the water, and hetumbled her over and got her by the leg. All the other women gothold of her and pulled. And in the tug of war she lost her leg,below the knee, he said. I gave him a stock of antiseptics.She'll pull through, I fancy."

　　"Ugh--the filthy beasts," Joan gulped shudderingly. "I hate them!I hate them!"

　　"And yet you go diving among sharks," Sheldon chided.

　　"They're only fish-sharks. And as long as there are plenty of fishthere is no danger. It is only when they're famished that they'reliable to take a bite."

　　Sheldon shuddered inwardly at the swift vision that arose of thedainty flesh of her in a shark's many-toothed maw.

　　"I wish you wouldn't, just the same," he said slowly. "Youacknowledge there is a risk."

　　"But that's half the fun of it," she cried.

　　A trite platitude about his not caring to lose her was on his lips,but he refrained from uttering it. Another conclusion he hadarrived at was that she was not to be nagged. Continual, or evenoccasional, reminders of his feeling for her would constitute atactical error of no mean dimensions.

　　"Some for the book of verse, some for the simple life, and some forthe shark's belly," he laughed grimly, then added: "Just the same,I wish I could swim as well as you. Maybe it would begetconfidence such as you have."

　　"Do you know, I think it would be nice to be married to a man suchas you seem to be becoming," she remarked, with one of her abruptchanges that always astounded him. "I should think you could betrained into a very good husband--you know, not one of thedomineering kind, but one who considered his wife was just as muchan individual as himself and just as much a free agent. Really,you know, I think you are improving."

　　She laughed and rode away, leaving him greatly cast down. If hehad thought there had been one bit of coyness in her words, onefeminine flutter, one womanly attempt at deliberate lure andencouragement, he would have been elated. But he knew absolutelythat it was the boy, and not the woman, who had so daringly spoken.

　　Joan rode on among the avenues of young cocoanut-palms, saw ahornbill, followed it in its erratic flights to the high forest onthe edge of the plantation, heard the cooing of wild pigeons andlocated them in the deeper woods, followed the fresh trail of awild pig for a distance, circled back, and took the narrow path forthe bungalow that ran through twenty acres of uncleared cane. Thegrass was waist-high and higher, and as she rode along sheremembered that Gogoomy was one of a gang of boys that had beendetailed to the grass-cutting. She came to where they had been atwork, but saw no signs of them. Her unshod horse made no sound onthe soft, sandy footing, and a little further on she heard voicesproceeding from out of the grass. She reined in and listened. Itwas Gogoomy talking, and as she listened she gripped her bridle-rein tightly and a wave of anger passed over her.

　　"Dog he stop 'm along house, night-time he walk about," Gogoomy wassaying, perforce in beche-de-mer English, because he was talking toothers beside his own tribesmen. "You fella boy catch 'm one fellapig, put 'm kai-kai belong him along big fella fish-hook. S'posedog he walk about catch 'm kai-kai, you fella boy catch 'm dogallee same one shark. Dog he finish close up. Big fella marstersleep along big fella house. White Mary sleep along pickaninnyhouse. One fella Adamu he stop along outside pickaninny house.You fella boy finish 'm dog, finish 'm Adamu, finish 'm big fellamarster, finish 'm White Mary, finish 'em altogether. Plentymusket he stop, plenty powder, plenty tomahawk, plenty knife-fee,plenty porpoise teeth, plenty tobacco, plenty calico--my word, toomuch plenty everything we take 'm along whale-boat, washee likehell, sun he come up we long way too much."

　　"Me catch 'm pig sun he go down," spoke up one whose thin falsettovoice Joan recognized as belonging to Cosse, one of Gogoomy'stribesmen.

　　"Me catch 'm dog," said another.

　　"And me catch 'm white fella Mary," Gogoomy cried triumphantly."Me catch 'm Kwaque he die along him damn quick."

　　This much Joan heard of the plan to murder, and then her risingwrath proved too much for her discretion. She spurred her horseinto the grass, crying, -

　　"What name you fella boy, eh? What name?"

　　They arose, scrambling and scattering, and to her surprise she sawthere were a dozen of them. As she looked in their glowering facesand noted the heavy, two-foot, hacking cane-knives in their hands,she became suddenly aware of the rashness of her act. If only shehad had her revolver or a rifle, all would have been well. But shehad carelessly ventured out unarmed, and she followed the glance ofGogoomy to her waist and saw the pleased flash in his eyes as heperceived the absence of the dreadful man-killing revolver.

　　The first article in the Solomon Islands code for white men wasnever to show fear before a native, and Joan tried to carry off thesituation in cavalier fashion.

　　"Too much talk along you fella boy," she said severely. "Too muchtalk, too little work. Savvee?"

　　Gogoomy made no reply, but, apparently shifting weight, he slid onefoot forward. The other boys, spread fan-wise about her, were alsosliding forward, the cruel cane-knives in their hands advertisingtheir intention.

　　"You cut 'm grass!" she commanded imperatively.

　　But Gogoomy slid his other foot forward. She measured the distancewith her eye. It would be impossible to whirl her horse around andget away. She would be chopped down from behind.

　　And in that tense moment the faces of all of them were imprinted onher mind in an unforgettable picture--one of them, an old man, withtorn and distended ear-lobes that fell to his chest; another, withthe broad flattened nose of Africa, and with withered eyes soburied under frowning brows that nothing but the sickly, yellowish-looking whites could be seen; a third, thick-lipped and beardedwith kinky whiskers; and Gogoomy--she had never realized before howhandsome Gogoomy was in his mutinous and obstinate wild-animal way.There was a primitive aristocraticness about him that his fellowslacked. The lines of his figure were more rounded than theirs, theskin smooth, well oiled, and free from disease. On his chest,suspended from a single string of porpoise-teeth around his throat,hung a big crescent carved out of opalescent pearl-shell. A row ofpure white cowrie shells banded his brow. From his hair drooped along, lone feather. Above the swelling calf of one leg he wore, asa garter, a single string of white beads. The effect was dandyishin the extreme. A narrow gee-string completed his costume.Another man she saw, old and shrivelled, with puckered forehead anda puckered face that trembled and worked with animal passion as inthe past she had noticed the faces of monkeys tremble and work.

　　"Gogoomy," she said sharply, "you no cut 'm grass, my word, I bang'm head belong you."

　　His expression became a trifle more disdainful, but he did notanswer. Instead, he stole a glance to right and left to mark howhis fellows were closing about her. At the same moment he casuallyslipped his foot forward through the grass for a matter of severalinches.

　　Joan was keenly aware of the desperateness of the situation. Theonly way out was through. She lifted her riding-whipthreateningly, and at the same moment drove in both spurs with herheels, rushing the startled horse straight at Gogoomy. It allhappened in an instant. Every cane-knife was lifted, and every boysave Gogoomy leaped for her. He swerved aside to avoid the horse,at the same time swinging his cane-knife in a slicing blow thatwould have cut her in twain. She leaned forward under the flyingsteel, which cut through her riding-skirt, through the edge of thesaddle, through the saddle cloth, and even slightly into the horseitself. Her right hand, still raised, came down, the thin whipwhishing through the air. She saw the white, cooked mark of theweal clear across the sullen, handsome face, and still what waspractically in the same instant she saw the man with the puckeredface, overridden, go down before her, and she heard his snarlingand grimacing chatter-for all the world like an angry monkey. Thenshe was free and away, heading the horse at top speed for thehouse.

　　Out of her sea-training she was able to appreciate Sheldon'sexecutiveness when she burst in on him with her news. Springingfrom the steamer-chair in which he had been lounging while waitingfor breakfast, he clapped his hands for the house-boys; and, whilelistening to her, he was buckling on his cartridge-belt and runningthe mechanism of his automatic pistol.

　　"Ornfiri," he snapped out his orders, "you fella ring big fellabell strong fella plenty. You finish 'm bell, you put 'm saddle onhorse. Viaburi, you go quick house belong Seelee he stop, tell 'mplenty black fella run away--ten fella two fella black fella boy."He scribbled a note and handed it to Lalaperu. "Lalaperu, you goquick house belong white fella Marster Boucher."

　　"That will head them back from the coast on both sides," heexplained to Joan. "And old Seelee will turn his whole villageloose on their track as well."

　　In response to the summons of the big bell, Joan's Tahitians werethe first to arrive, by their glistening bodies and panting chestsshowing that they had run all the way. Some of the farthest-placedgangs would be nearly an hour in arriving.

　　Sheldon proceeded to arm Joan's sailors and deal out ammunition andhandcuffs. Adamu Adam, with loaded rifle, he placed on guard overthe whale-boats. Noa Noah, aided by Matapuu, were instructed totake charge of the working-gangs as fast as they came in, to keepthem amused, and to guard against their being stampeded into makinga break themselves. The five other Tahitians were to follow Joanand Sheldon on foot.

　　"I'm glad we unearthed that arsenal the other day," Sheldonremarked as they rode out of the compound gate.

　　A hundred yards away they encountered one of the clearing gangscoming in. It was Kwaque's gang, but Sheldon looked in vain forhim.

　　"What name that fella Kwaque he no stop along you?" he demanded.

　　A babel of excited voices attempted an answer.

　　"Shut 'm mouth belong you altogether," Sheldon commanded.

　　He spoke roughly, living up to the role of the white man who mustalways be strong and dominant.

　　"Here, you fella Babatani, you talk 'm mouth belong you."

　　Babatani stepped forward in all the pride of one singled out fromamong his fellows.

　　"Gogoomy he finish along Kwaque altogether," was Babatani'sexplanation. "He take 'm head b'long him run like hell."

　　In brief words, and with paucity of imagination, he described themurder, and Sheldon and Joan rode on. In the grass, where Joan hadbeen attacked, they found the little shrivelled man, stillchattering and grimacing, whom Joan had ridden down. The mare hadplunged on his ankle, completely crushing it, and a hundred yards'crawl had convinced him of the futility of escape. To the lastclearing-gang, from the farthest edge of the plantation, was giventhe task of carrying him in to the house.

　　A mile farther on, where the runaways' trail led straight towardthe bush, they encountered the body of Kwaque. The head had beenhacked off and was missing, and Sheldon took it on faith that thebody was Kwaque's. He had evidently put up a fight, for a bloodytrail led away from the body.

　　Once they were well into the thick bush the horses had to beabandoned. Papehara was left in charge of them, while Joan andSheldon and the remaining Tahitians pushed ahead on foot. The wayled down through a swampy hollow, which was overflowed by theBerande River on occasion, and where the red trail of the murdererswas crossed by a crocodile's trail. They had apparently caught thecreature asleep in the sun and desisted long enough from theirflight to hack him to pieces. Here the wounded man had sat downand waited until they were ready to go on.

　　An hour later, following along a wild-pig trail, Sheldon suddenlyhalted. The bloody tracks had ceased. The Tahitians cast out inthe bush on either side, and a cry from Utami apprised them of afind. Joan waited till Sheldon came back.

　　"It's Mauko," he said. "Kwaque did for him, and he crawled inthere and died. That's two accounted for. There are ten more.Don't you think you've got enough of it?"

　　She nodded.

　　"It isn't nice," she said. "I'll go back and wait for you with thehorses."

　　"But you can't go alone. Take two of the men."

　　"Then I'll go on," she said. "It would be foolish to weaken thepursuit, and I am certainly not tired."

　　The trail bent to the right as though the runaways had changedtheir mind and headed for the Balesuna. But the trail stillcontinued to bend to the right till it promised to make a loop, andthe point of intersection seemed to be the edge of the plantationwhere the horses had been left. Crossing one of the quiet junglespaces, where naught moved but a velvety, twelve-inch butterfly,they heard the sound of shots.

　　"Eight," Joan counted. "It was only one gun. It must bePapehara."

　　They hurried on, but when they reached the spot they were in doubt.The two horses stood quietly tethered, and Papehara, squatted onhis hams, was having a peaceful smoke. Advancing toward him,Sheldon tripped on a body that lay in the grass, and as he savedhimself from falling his eyes lighted on a second. Joan recognizedthis one. It was Cosse, one of Gogoomy's tribesmen, the one whohad promised to catch at sunset the pig that was to have baited thehook for Satan.

　　"No luck, Missie," was Papehara's greeting, accompanied by adisconsolate shake of the head. "Catch only two boy. I have goodshot at Gogoomy, only I miss."

　　"But you killed them," Joan chided. "You must catch them alive."

　　The Tahitian smiled.

　　"How?" he queried. "I am have a smoke. I think about Tahiti, andbreadfruit, and jolly good time at Bora Bora. Quick, just likethat, ten boy he run out of bush for me. Each boy have long knife.Gogoomy have long knife one hand, and Kwaque's head in other hand.I no stop to catch 'm alive. I shoot like hell. How you catch 'malive, ten boy, ten long knife, and Kwaque's head?"

　　The scattered paths of the different boys, where they broke backafter the disastrous attempt to rush the Tahitian, soon ledtogether. They traced it to the Berande, which the runaways hadcrossed with the clear intention of burying themselves in the hugemangrove swamp that lay beyond.

　　"There is no use our going any farther," Sheldon said. "Seeleewill turn out his village and hunt them out of that. They'll neverget past him. All we can do is to guard the coast and keep themfrom breaking back on the plantation and running amuck. Ah, Ithought so."

　　Against the jungle gloom of the farther shore, coming from downstream, a small canoe glided. So silently did it move that it wasmore like an apparition. Three naked blacks dipped with noiselesspaddles. Long-hafted, slender, bone-barbed throwing-spears layalong the gunwale of the canoe, while a quiverful of arrows hung oneach man's back. The eyes of the man-hunters missed nothing. Theyhad seen Sheldon and Joan first, but they gave no sign. WhereGogoomy and his followers had emerged from the river, the canoeabruptly stopped, then turned and disappeared into the deepermangrove gloom. A second and a third canoe came around the bendfrom below, glided ghostlike to the crossing of the runaways, andvanished in the mangroves.

　　"I hope there won't be any more killing," Joan said, as they turnedtheir horses homeward.

　　"I don't think so," Sheldon assured her. "My understanding withold Seelee is that he is paid only for live boys; so he is verycareful."