The Trembling of a Leaf: Little Stories of the South Sea Islands — John Shaqi
The Trembling of a Leaf: Little Stories of the South Sea IslandsMaugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
General
The Trembling of a Leaf: Little Stories of the South Sea Islands
Maugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
Oceania -- Fiction
He splashed about for a few minutes in the sea; it was too shallow to
swim in and for fear of sharks he could not go out of his depth; then he
got out and went into the bath-house for a shower. The coldness of the
fresh water was grateful after the heavy stickiness of the salt Pacific,
so warm, though it was only just after seven, that to bathe in it did
not brace you but rather increased your languor; and when he had dried
himself, slipping into a bath-gown, he called out to the Chinese cook
that he would be ready for breakfast in five minutes. He walked barefoot
across the patch of coarse grass which Walker, the administrator,
proudly thought was a lawn, to his own quarters and dressed. This did
not take long, for he put on nothing but a shirt and a pair of duck
trousers and then went over to his chief's house on the other side of
the compound. The two men had their meals together, but the Chinese cook
told him that Walker had set out on horseback at five and would not be
back for another hour.
Mackintosh had slept badly and he looked with distaste at the paw-paw
and the eggs and bacon which were set before him. The mosquitoes had
been maddening that night; they flew about the net under which he slept
in such numbers that their humming, pitiless and menacing, had the
effect of a note, infinitely drawn out, played on a distant organ, and
whenever he dozed off he awoke with a start in the belief that one had
found its way inside his curtains. It was so hot that he lay naked. He
turned from side to side. And gradually the dull roar of the breakers on
the reef, so unceasing and so regular that generally you did not hear
it, grew distinct on his consciousness, its rhythm hammered on his tired
nerves and he held himself with clenched hands in the effort to bear it.
The thought that nothing could stop that sound, for it would continue to
all eternity, was almost impossible to bear, and, as though his strength
were a match for the ruthless forces of nature, he had an insane impulse
to do some violent thing. He felt he must cling to his self-control or
he would go mad. And now, looking out of the window at the lagoon and
the strip of foam which marked the reef, he shuddered with hatred of the
brilliant scene. The cloudless sky was like an inverted bowl that hemmed
it in. He lit his pipe and turned over the pile of Auckland papers that
had come over from Apia a few days before. The newest of them was three
weeks old. They gave an impression of incredible dullness.
Then he went into the office. It was a large, bare room with two desks
in it and a bench along one side. A number of natives were seated on
this, and a couple of women. They gossiped while they waited for the
administrator, and when Mackintosh came in they greeted him.
"_Talofa li._"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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