The Sorcerer's Stone

by Beatrice Grimshaw

It grew darker in the chief-house, there as we sat on the bamboo sleeping shelf, listening to the unvarying roar of the rain and watching the excited waving of the head-plumes in the corner where the cannibals held their conference—the plumes were all we could see now, for a naked Papuan becomes rapidly and completely invisible, once it begins to grow dark. The Marquis was very much quieter than usual, but I do not think he was at all afraid. I think he reckoned on having a fight by-and-by, and liked the idea. As for myself, well, a man with any sense isn’t afraid in a tight place; it would be idiotic, because you want all the nerve you have, to get out of it. And usually you are much too busy thinking what to do to worry over what may happen if you don’t do it.

A woman brought a torch in by and by, and said something that caused great excitement. The men jumped about and clapped their hands and made noises exactly like the noise a dog makes when it sees its food in front of it. The Marquis and I both had our hands ready upon our revolver butts, but we needn’t have troubled—it was only the pig that had already had so much to do with our fortunes, coming in again. They had been heating it up and were bringing it in for supper.

We all sat down on the floor then—and the meat was shared out, together with a lot of sweet potatoes, hot from the ashes. The cannibals gave us a liberal share and offered us a bamboo full of water to drink out of. They tore and gnawed their food in a way that was not pleasant to watch—remembering those long ovens on the hill.

“Sacred name of a camel, what a lecture I will give!” sighed the Marquis, with his mouth full of sweet potato. “Look at their chests all blowed out with the climbing, and their feet that have monkey toes, and the cords on the insteps, and the nostril of the pig that they have! See how they jump, they flitter, they are all the time nervous and distracted! That comes of living on the edge of the cook-pot; if you hold your finger up at one, and say ‘Hi!’ he should jump to break the floor.”

“I hope you won’t,” I said, looking down at the velvet-black gulf of vacancy that one could see between the slats of the flooring. “Don’t you get too scientific, Marky; I warn you, that nervousness of theirs is a bad sign. Also, their friendliness is a bad sign. Shove back and finish your food with your shoulders against the wall, if you take my advice.” I moved over as I spoke and the Marquis followed me.

We ate as men eat who do not know where their next meal is to come from; we filled our pockets quietly, when we could swallow no more. The Koiroros were so busy chattering among themselves that they did not notice what we were doing. They did not molest us, though I could feel there was trouble in the air.

I cannot say we passed a pleasant night. We kept watch in turns, and got some sleep, through sheer fatigue, lying just where we had eaten our meal, on the floor of the chief-house. The cannibals were sleeping all around us, snorting and snoring like walruses. One of them lay across the door, I noticed, and as it was hardly large enough to crawl through, he guarded it efficiently.

Towards four o’clock in the morning (I found the time by feeling the hands of my watch), the presentiment of coming trouble got hold of me so completely that I resolved to make an attempt at getting away, cost what it might. The more I thought about that liberal supper, the less I liked it. The more I considered those long stone ovens on the hill, the more likely I thought it that they would be filled on the morrow—if we did not get away.

I felt for the Marquis in the dark; it was his turn to sleep, but he was not sleeping. I put my mouth to his ear and whispered a little. Then I got out my knife and began cutting away the flimsy bamboo flooring. It was the time of the waning moon; I knew that we should have light enough to see by, once we got outside, and that it would last till dawn came up. By dawn we might hope to be out of the way.

It was easy enough to cut the floor without waking the Koiroros, since all natives are heavy sleepers, and these men had fed full before they slept. Getting through was more difficult; I gritted my teeth at the creaking noise made by the Marquis’s weight as he lowered himself after me. Where I had cut through there was sloping soil underneath; we got hold of the supporting piles that were thrust into it, and holding on by them, made our way very cautiously down the precipice to the place where the trees and lianas began once more. The angle here was awful, but we had plenty of hand-hold, and crept along securely enough in the watery moonlight. The rain was over now and the river far below us at the bottom of the gorge roared full-fed along its way.