English passengers (10 page)

So time passed. I grew taller, until, by and by, I did suppose I knew every thing now, and there were no mysteries to confound anymore. Of course in truth I knew piss-poor little. Why, I knew only half, and that whole other half was sat there waiting, like one kanunnah, licking his lips.

One day it was warm and there was rain but no wind, so drops fell straight like stones. We were in the bush, sitting quiet and watching meat cooking in the fire, and the smoke smelled good, as this was the first game we caught for days and we were hungry after eating just roots. Then Gonar, who went off to the edge of that clearing to do shittings, came running back and shouted in a whispering way, ‘‘Something’s coming.’’

Now if something’s coming and you don’t know what it is there’s no prudence just waiting for it to walk on you. Tartoyen signalled with his
hands and we went away into trees without any noise, to a place some way off, with bushes to hide, though we could see between the leaves. Then twigs were breaking, telling us this something coming was clumsy. In fact it was three somethings. No, I had never seen creatures so strange, I do recollect. They were the shape of men but only this. Their skin was not like skin at all but was the colour of stone, and loose, so it flapped. Even their feet were ugly, too big and with no toes. Worst, though, were their faces. These were coloured like raw meat, with no alive look in them. Up they walked through the rain, which was getting heavy now, so it made the trees clap. They stopped when they saw the fire and meat, but then they ran towards it, very fast and grabbing.

I looked at Tartoyen and to my surprise I saw he looked just woeful. Then I saw everyone was woeful now, even Gonar, who would fight the wind itself. That was some puzzle to confound and made me curious. ‘‘What are they?’’ I whispered.

D’you know Tartoyen went angry, like I never saw him go angry before. ‘‘Ghosts,’’ he said, like I said something bad about him. ‘‘Dead men jumped up.’’

When everything’s got suddenly strange, one more strange thing seems almost usual. So this was what happened to dead ones, I did suppose. It was scaring but also interesting. I did observe those ghosts didn’t look happy being dead but were restless, like they had bad aches inside. Also they were too hungry. They never stopped to see who made that fire but just started eating the meat. Our meat. Its cooking wasn’t finished and it must have been hot as burning but they just tore off big pieces and put them in their mouths, very rude. Death gave them some big appetite I did divine.

Here were many mysteries to confound. So I tried to surmise why Tartoyen never told me about these ghosts before, though he told me everything else. Also I pondered if ghosts could die, though this seemed impossible when they were already dead. I was thinking so, rain was clapping, and others were watching ghosts eat our meat when all suddenly I saw Mongana’s mother give me a hating look, sharper than spears. Sometimes you do just know a heinous awful something is going to happen, and sure enough, now she pointed right at my face.

‘‘It’s his fault.’’

All at once every one of them was looking at me. I didn’t understand. ‘‘What d’you mean?’’

For a moment nobody said a word and the only sound was that rain clapping quicker and quicker, making the leaves shiver. Then Mongana’s mother gave Tartoyen a look that was full of scornings, which was strange too, as he was Tartoyen and no one did that usually. ‘‘Go on, tell him.’’

I supposed Tartoyen would give her words like some grievous blow, but no, he just closed his eyes like his head ached and never spoke a word. Grandmother did instead, yes, whispering like some snarl, ‘‘Leave him alone.’’

But there is no trap like a mystery to confound. Even if you know the answer is some terrible hardship to endure, still you must hear. ‘‘Tell me.’’

Tartoyen he let out a big breath and sort of sagged, like belly meat. ‘‘Your father was like them. A ghost.’’

That was some mystery to confound, bigger than any other. How could I be the child of some dead man? Yet those looks of others told me it must be so, as they were changed now, as if I was some piss-poor strange fellow, or Roingin. Then I did recollect that long-ago afternoon, and that stranger looking up from the shallow pool. So I could divine this truth. Yes, that was ghosts’ hair I had, and ghosts’ monster face. This was some terrible thing. All this while here I was, breathing and eating for years, and mostly things stayed just the same. Days came and went and I thought I knew everything. Then all at once, quick as slipping and falling, I found every day of it was really just some hateful foolishness. Suddenly I got angry, and I most of all I got angry with Tartoyen, who was supposed to be my good friend.

‘‘Why didn’t you tell me?’’ I didn’t even whisper it. I hardly cared if those ghosts came and killed us all.

Tartoyen didn’t answer me but just looked at the ground, where a little grey beetle was walking over some leaf.

‘‘You lied to me. You said I had no father.’’

Tartoyen closed his eyes. ‘‘He wasn’t like a father. He just came one time in the night and took away your mother.’’

Now I saw Grandmother pointed her long, bony finger at Tartoyen’s face. ‘‘You let him steal her from me. You all did.’’

D’you know, they all looked shamed. All because they didn’t kill Father that long time ago. The only one who wasn’t, and was just hating, was Mongana’s mother, Pagerly. ‘‘My husband fought him even if none of you did. Don’t you forget that,’’ she snarled. ‘‘He wasn’t scared of any ghost. He was brave when you were cowards. And his ghost’’—she pointed at me—‘‘killed him for it with his thunder noise.’’

Mongana was crying.

So I learned why they both hated me all this while. Mongana’s father got killed by Father. It was all bad, very bad. Still I had to know more, even if it was just worse. ‘‘What happened to Mother?’’

Grandmother shrugged. ‘‘She escaped from the ghost’s island and came back to us. But by then anger got inside her and wouldn’t let her rest. So one day, after you were born, she went away to kill him. I tried to make her stay but there was no telling your mother what to do.’’

That was when Pagerly gave me a gleeful look, as if she had some special hating thing for me. ‘‘She wanted to kill you, Peevay. She wanted to smash your head against a tree. She said so. She would have, too, if she hadn’t been so weak.’’

That was the very worst thing of them all, I do recollect, and I felt quite weak with piss-poor woeful feelings deep inside my breast. Mongana was right after all. Mother wanted to kill me. She never would step from the sea with special food just for me.

So finally ended that mystery of what in fuck happened to Mother and Father. I saw others watching me, and their looks were as if I was different now, not quite like them, which was heinous. All of a sudden everything in all the whole world was just spoiled, and it was all my fault besides. All I wanted was to put it back like it had been just before, when we were sat around the fire, quiet and ordinary and waiting for meat.

‘‘Look, they’ve gone,’’ said Gonar.

I’d forgotten about the ghosts. Sure enough when we peered through the trees there was no sign. Carefully we left those bushes and returned to the fire. Ghosts’ tracks went away running, as if they heard
our talkings and got scared. There was hardly any meat left except for just bones.

Tartoyen looked up, like dark clouds had passed. ‘‘Let’s find some more game.’’

So he and some others went away to hunt. The rest of us started collecting wood for that fire. All was quiet and people were just doing ordinary things, like everything was the same, but of course it wasn’t really. I couldn’t forget Mongana’s mother’s words, saying how Mother wanted to kill me, or the way they all looked at me like I was different from them. When others weren’t watching, I suddenly walked away, but slow, as if I must go pissing or so. Once I was out of their sight I started running. Away I went, faster and faster, till it was as if the trees and bushes were running too, and wind was on my face, and ground could hardly even happen quick enough to catch my feet, and I felt good right through to my bones to be getting away. Down a valley I went, jumping across a small stream, then up that other side and on, till I was gasping and my heart was clapping faster than the rain. Even then I never stopped, but I ran through trees and bushes that cut my legs, hither and thither, till finally I could go no further, and I dropped down by that old log.

So I lay there, waiting. Of course I never had been all alone before and soon it was curious. Everything was so still. I lay by the log and listened to birds singing and trees moving and they all seemed very loud. By and by my heartfelt desire was for Tartoyen and Grandmother and others to come and find me, and to be piss-poor sorry for what they said, crying and telling me Mother never wanted to kill me after all, which was just lies. Yes, and they could give Mongana and his mother some grievous blows besides, very hard. So it would be almost as if nothing ever happened after all, and those dread feelings deep inside my breast could just go away.

But that was one vain hope. There were no footsteps, no shouts. Nothing happened at all, except for flies biting and birds calling. Finally it got dark and I knew they wouldn’t come. Suddenly I detested them so I hardly cared that I was alone and had no fire. I even wanted kanunnah to come with his long ugly head and kill me with his teeth. Or Wraggeo-wrapper
to drop down from the trees and make me go mad. Truly, I didn’t give one scut about either.

But kanunnah and Wraggeowrapper didn’t come. In fact nothing happened. I just fell asleep.

Next day everything was just the same except that I decided to die. I ate nothing and drank nothing and made myself a good bed to die on, out of moss and grass and fern leaves, just beside the log. Then I waited. But it’s not so easy just to die like that. I was itchy where the flies bit and the bushes scratched, and my hands wouldn’t keep still. Also I couldn’t decide whether to die lying on my side or on my back. Till finally it was dark, and again I fell asleep.

Then, on the third day, something most curious and confounding happened. I awoke and it was just getting light, with a red sky like blood. I was thirsty and hungry. But most of all, even though nothing was new, I got blissful, so much that it was as if I never had been blissful before. Why, I felt weak as if I was crook with some great good fortune and tidings of joy, and it wouldn’t let me keep still so my hands were shaking. That was one puzzle to confound. I wanted to shout and surprise the trees and biting flies. I wanted to be alive whatever Mongana or his mother said. I wanted to be alive even if no single pisser in all the world, friend or hated foe, wanted me to be alive. That still does confound me even in these long-after days, when all the world is so changed. Perhaps it was just because I was so hungry. Or it was that I had discovered my special skill, which was to endure. For that was surely what I had found.

So I decided to go and find the others, as I never even hated those buggers anymore. Not that this was easy. It was some time since I ran away to that log and even then I paid piss-poor heed whither I was going, while this part of the world was all forest, and thick too, so I never could see any hill or rock or other friendly thing to tell me the way. Those trees were worrisome. One moment I would think I knew them, and was saved, then I would see they were telling grievous falsehoods and were just different trees making themselves look the same. Also I felt light in my head from being hungry so my feet kept catching the ground and making me stumble.

Finally I reached a path, and though I didn’t recognize which one it
was I saw there were footmarks. They looked fresh, just a day or so old, and were enough for all my ones, which was interesting, so I followed, pondering what I would say to them all when I found them, and what they would say to me. I never had been alone like this before and now I felt very brave. I followed them until I could hear birds fighting, which meant something bad, so I went carefully. Sure enough, just ahead that path went into a big clearing and there, looking through leaves, I saw a big crowd of birds, pecking and tugging. It was those three ghosts they were eating. They had spears in them, plenty of them, and were in different places in that clearing as if they tried to run away. So now I knew you could kill them even though they were dead. Why, I felt a little sad for them, though they ate our meat and caused me so much heinous trouble. I threw a stone and made the birds go away, though they just went a short way off, jumping and waiting.

This was a puzzle to confound. Tartoyen let them go away before, saying we must hunt game instead, so who speared them like this? I went close to look, as it was interesting even after what the birds did. Are you Father? I did ponder. Or you? One had hair just like mine, and when I touched this it felt the same too. Another still had one eye, which was blue as cold days’ sky. Then, when I touched their skin, which was the colour of stone, I saw that it was not really their skin at all but a false one. Beneath was real and this was pale like their raw meat faces. At least my skin was human colour.

Though it was interesting I was too hungry to stay long. So I threw another stone at the birds and then went on along the path again, following those footmarks. Then, by and by, I smelt a smell, which was the best, finest and most delicious smell, of smoke from a campfire, where meat might be cooking. When you are hungry as piss, your nose will find it, yes, though it comes from behind whole mountains. Hunger makes your eyes tired, you see, and your ears too, but your nose is cleverer than ever.

Well, that smell gave me strength to make my tired feet walk onwards, till I reached the top of a hill, and there, rising up from the forest, I saw a thin stick of smoke. That was great good fortune and tidings of joy. Yes, I thought, now I am saved. So down I ran, fast as the wind.

Dearest Father,

I am sadly conscious of the many weeks that have passed since I wrote to you last, and hope you will not think your son neglectful, but you will know how infrequently a boat is sent from this most remote of places. As to my news, I know hardly where to begin, so great have been the changes to the settlement— and to my own circumstances—that have occurred. I cannot say all has been easy. Often have I thought of you, gazing upon a class of pupils through your spectacles, so stern and wise, and always knowing, with such seeming ease, what is right.