The song, or chant, was repeated more than once while I listened. Evidently the singer had been running it off like a phonograph for some time. He was a Kiwai from the west and he used the Kiwai tongue, which many white men understand, especially among the pearling crowd. I wondered whether any one besides myself had heard him, and whether, if any one had, the chant had conveyed any special meaning.
It did not seem likely. Most white men pay no more attention to native singing than they pay to a howling dog. If the singing or the howling annoys you, you throw something at the disturber of your peace: that is all.
Further, if any one did hear it and take notice of it, there was nothing dangerous in the song—unless one had the clue—the knowledge of what the charm really was. Had any one the clue save myself and the Marquis? Had George the Greek—who had dug Mo out of his grave, to get his diving dress? Impossible. Still, I might as well stop the singing: it was certainly irritating, and the Kiwai had no right to be annoying the town in the middle of the day, almost opposite the hotel.
I went down on to the beach, and shouted to him to stop. He seemed to understand English well enough, and he did stop, though with an amazed and injured air. I noted that he was a boy I had not seen before; probably a diver, though he did not seem to be on duty. He was loafing on the sand, with a big, opened cocoanut beside him, and he looked extremely comfortable and lazy.
“Why aren’t you out with the boats?” I asked. I did not question him about his song: very few Papuans, no matter how well you may know them, will tell you anything about their chants, and I was, as I say, a stranger to this boy.
“Me sick,” he said, with a grin. I never saw a sturdier specimen of a malingerer.
“You no sick, you too much fright,” I said.
“Yes, me fright,” he agreed. “All a time too much fright, long that puri-puri man (sorcerer) he die. I no want I die finish all same. Me sick, more better.”
“You rascal,” I said, “what boat do you belong to?”
“Gertrude,” he answered, turning the cocoanut up on his face, and drinking loudly.