British -- Oceania -- Fiction; Missionaries -- Fiction
Then new sounds arose, cries of victory, little less blood-curdling
than the shouts of battle, and the ladies crept back into the dark
room, assured of their own safety, but with horrible premonitions of
what these might portend.
Presently the shadowy darkness over by the river resolved itself into a
mob of black figures which came towards the mission-houses, leaping and
brandishing its newly-fleshed weapons, and shouting at the top of its
voice, in horrible incongruity, and the more horrible in that the tune
was perfectly correct, "Kown 'im! kown 'im! kown 'im! kown 'im!
Law-daw-faw!"
They circled the fence, leaping and shouting and singing, and the men
of the yacht inside grasped their weapons to repel an onslaught. But
the brown men had had their fill of fighting for that night, and were
only there to advertise their victory.
Evans said a word or two to them, but learned only that Ra'a had come
down from the hill and attacked the village, but that they had been
ready for him. They were too excited to be able to give any details
yet, and presently they drew off and went shouting and singing home.
Jean, with something of a shock, remembered her ill-wishes for Ra'a,
and wondered with discomfort, now that the bald possibility faced her
so closely, if they had been realised. If they had, she would feel
almost as if she had had a hand in his death.
Then a native drum began beating in the village, and the ceaseless
monotony of its deep, dolorous boom fretted their ears, and set their
hearts jumping, and jangled their nerves to the point of agony. They
covered their ears with their hands, they stuffed their fingers into
them, but the drum beat in through their temples. They clasped their
heads tightly to keep them from splitting, but the drum beat in all the
same. When it ceased abruptly at last, and they ventured to lift their
heads, they saw one another's pale faces in a faint gleam that stole in
through the windows. The darkness over the village was pulsing with
the glow of great fires, and as they glanced fearfully at one another
they knew that the same horrible thought was in all their minds.
It was dawn before the noises died away, and Evans came in to them with
a grim, grey face. He said nothing, but nodded silently--and their
horror was confirmed.
Yes, truly, it was a decided change from Kensington and Hyde Park.
No soul from the village came near them that day, nor did any of them
venture out except Evans, who went along twice during the day to see
what was going on, but returned each time with pinched lips and a
despondent shake of the head.
The following day the brown men were about again, but sluggishly, as
though the fight had used up all their energies, or something else had
clogged them. It was another two days before they settled down to
work, and even then they were not quite as they had been.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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