On the other hand, refreshed by the water and the meat, Jerry did not
reciprocate so heartily in the love-making. He was polite, and received
his petting with soft-shining eyes, tail-waggings and the customary body-
wrigglings; but he was restless, and continually listened to distant
sounds and yearned away to be gone. This was not lost upon the boy, who,
before he curled himself down to sleep, securely tied to a tree the end
of the cord that was about Jerry's neck.
After straining against the cord for a time, Jerry surrendered and slept.
But not for long. Skipper was too much with him. He knew, and yet he
did not know, the irretrievable ultimate disaster to Skipper. So it was,
after low whinings and whimperings, that he applied his sharp first-teeth
to the sennit cord and chewed upon it till it parted.
Free, like a homing pigeon, he headed blindly and directly for the beach
and the salt sea over which had floated the _Arangi_, on her deck Skipper
in command. Somo was largely deserted, and those that were in it were
sunk in sleep. So no one vexed him as he trotted through the winding
pathways between the many houses and past the obscene kingposts of
totemic heraldry, where the forms of men, carved from single tree trunks,
were seated in the gaping jaws of carved sharks. For Somo, tracing back
to Somo its founder, worshipped the shark-god and the salt-water deities
as well as the deities of the bush and swamp and mountain.
Turning to the right until he was past the sea-wall, Jerry came on down
to the beach. No _Arangi_ was to be seen on the placid surface of the
lagoon. All about him was the debris of the feast, and he scented the
smouldering odours of dying fires and burnt meat. Many of the feasters
had not troubled to return to their houses, but lay about on the sand, in
the mid-morning sunshine, men, women, and children and entire families,
wherever they had yielded to slumber.
Down by the water's edge, so close that his fore-feet rested in the
water, Jerry sat down, his heart bursting for Skipper, thrust his nose
heavenward at the sun, and wailed his woe as dogs have ever wailed since
they came in from the wild woods to the fires of men.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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