THE MAN-EATER
The morning light found Ivan still seated at his table. As daybreak
and lamplight did not agree, he extinguished his lamp, threw aside his
papers, and gave himself a momentary rest.
He had conquered; he was himself again. All the fire of passion had
died out, the sinful images had vanished, and in his breast reigned
profound peace. He had resolved upon his course; an angel had been at
his side and inspired him.
It was Sunday morning. The engines which work the distillery were at
rest. On Sundays the enormous water-basin, or trough, which fed the
steam-pump was utilized to remove the dirt of the week from the
miners. From six to seven the basin was free to the women, from
half-past seven to nine to the men. The keys of the great pump-house
were given over by the machine superintendent on every Saturday night
to Ivan, so that no curious or peeping Tom of Coventry could hide
himself there, and see these Venuses bathing through a little window,
which gave upon the basin, and which was placed there to allow the
stoker to see that the water-course was not disturbed when the pumps
were at work.
It had never once entered Ivan's brain that he could play Tom if he
were so minded. But on this Sunday morning he took the key from its
nail and put it in his pocket. Don't start; he did this, not between
six and seven, but shortly after eight o'clock. He wanted to see the
men bathing, unseen himself. And wherefore? Because he knew the
customs which prevail in coal-mines, and that when a pair are engaged,
it is customary to inscribe the name of the girl upon the man's naked
body. Where the miners have got this Indian and savage method is hard
to say. There is a certain tenderness in it, and tenderness is more
often found with the savage than the civilized man. The lovers tattoo
themselves with a needle, upon the arm or shoulder, and then rub in a
corrosive acid, either red or blue. Such a testimony is ineffaceable.
Sometimes some poetic temperament adds two hearts transfixed by an
arrow, or a couple of doves, or it may be the signs of the miner--the
mallet and the pick. It occasionally happens that the relations alter,
and the lover would gladly remove the name of the fickle one from his
album. This can be done by placing a blister over the name, and then
the writing vanishes, together with the skin; a new skin grows, and
upon this a new name can be written. It is a real palimpsest. Many are
not so discreet. They punctuate a fresh name under the old one, and
let the register increase, until sometimes there is not a vacant
place.
It did not give Ivan much trouble to find the man he sought. As soon
as the water removed the black soot from the bodies of the bathers, he
saw on the shoulder of one of them the name of Evila, the letters in
blue, two hearts in red. His rival was an intelligent, most
industrious laborer; he was called Peter Saffran, and his comrades had
added the nickname--the man-eater. To this misnomer Peter had never
taken any umbrage. He was a particularly quiet man, and when they
teased him he took no notice. He never complained of anything, and
never entered either the church or the tavern. Towards children he had
a particular antipathy. If one came near him he drove it away, ground
his teeth together, and threw anything he had in his hand at it. This
peculiarity was so well known that the mothers always cautioned the
little ones against the man-eater. For the rest, he was on good terms
with every one.
Ivan, having found what he wanted, left the pump-house and returned
home, placing himself before the door, so that he could see the people
as they went by presently in groups towards the neighboring village to
the church. He noticed that Evila was among them. He examined her
critically and in cold blood, and he came to quite a scientific
conclusion as to the peculiar character of her beauty, which showed a
mixture of races. The small hands and feet, the slender form, the
narrow forehead, the finely cut nose, the silky black hair--all spoke
the Indian or Hindoo type; but the short upper lip and the long,
serpent-like eyebrows were derivable from some Slav ancestor. The
starry, seductive eyes were decidedly Eastern, the chin and the
coloring recalled the Malay race, and the quick, sudden rising of the
red blood to the velvet cheek the Caucasian--for this people blush
constantly, owing to the cellular texture being fine almost to
transparency.
Ivan pondered on all this as Evila passed him; he wondered also why
her lover was not with her, for this was an established custom in
Bondavara. Peter, however, evidently did not mind these rules of
courtship; he was lounging on one of the benches outside the gates of
the ventilation-oven, close to the pitmouth, his head in the air, his
chin in his hand.
Ivan went to him. "Good-morning, Peter. What are you doing there, my
man?"
"I am listening to the wind that is coming from below."
"Why don't you go to church?"
"Because I never pray at all."
"And why not?"
"I do nobody any harm. I neither rob nor murder, and if there is a
God, He knows better than I do what is good for me."
"You are quite wrong there, Peter. In these matters there is an
immense difference between educated people and what are called the
children of Nature. I have my science and thought to fall back on--my
intellect is my guide, and preserves me from temptation; but with you,
and men like you, it is otherwise. Those who have no other knowledge
but what concerns their daily labor have need of faith, of hope, of
consolation, and of forgiveness." As he spoke, Ivan seated himself
beside the other and laid his hand upon his shoulder. "Something is on
your mind, Peter?"
Peter nodded. "There is something."
"Does it weigh on your soul?"
"On my soul, on my body--everywhere!"
"Is it a secret, Peter?"
"No, it is not. If you care to hear it, I will tell it you."
"A murder?"
"Worse than that."
"Don't you think you had better not tell it to me? It may place you in
danger."
"There is no danger for me. If it were published on the Market Cross,
the law could not touch me; besides, most people know it. You would
hear it from some one else if not from me."
"Then tell me."
"It is a short story. When I was only a lad, not quite twenty, I went
to sea to seek my fortune. I bound myself as stoker on board a Trieste
steamboat. We sailed with a cargo of meal to the Brazils. Our voyage
there was prosperous. On our return we took black coffee and wool. On
this side of the equator we met a tornado, which broke our engine,
smashed our mainmast, and drove the vessel upon a sandbank, where she
foundered. Some of the passengers took to the boat; they went only a
short way when she upset, and they were all drowned. The rest made a
raft from the planks of the sunken ship, and trusted to this frail
thing on the open sea. I was one of them. We were in all thirty-nine,
including the captain, the steersman, and a merchant from Rio de
Janeiro, with his wife and a three-year-old child. We had no other
woman or child, for the rest had perished in the open boat. We thought
them unfortunate, but now I think they were happy. Better, far better,
to have died then. Out of our thirty-nine, soon only nine remained.
Oh, how I wish I had been among the dead! For eight days we floated
upon the water, the sport of the waves; now buffeted here and there,
again in a calm, immovable, nailed as it were to the ocean, without
one drop of water to quench our thirst or one morsel of food. Ten of
us had died of hunger. For two days we had never eaten, and the ninth
day came, and no hope of succor. The sun was burning us up, and the
water reflected the heat, so that we lay between two fires. Oh, the
horror of that awful time! That evening we took the resolve that one
of us should be a victim for the others--that is, that we should draw
lots which should be eaten by the others. We threw our names into a
hat, and we made the innocent child draw for us. That child drew its
own name.
"I cannot tell you, sir, the rest of the ghastly business. Often I
dream the whole thing over again, and I always awake at the moment
when the miserable mother cursed all those who partook of that
horrible meal, invoking heaven that we might never again have peace.
At the recollection of her words I spring out of my bed, I run into
the woods and wait, to see if I shall be changed into a wolf. It would
serve me right.
"Of the partakers of the cursed meal I am the only survivor. The
thought haunts me; it burns into my very soul. Besides my own blood,
the blood of another human being circulates in my veins. Fearful
thoughts pursue me. The piece of human flesh that I have eaten is in
me still; it has taken away all wish for any other food. I understand
the delight of the cannibals. I never see a rosy-faced child without
thinking what a delicious morsel his little rounded arm would be. When
I behold a sickly, pale baby, the idea at once occurs to me--Why let
it live? Would it not be better--"
He shuddered, and stood up. He hid his hands in his blouse, and after
a pause, went on--
"Tell me now, sir, is there any relief for what I suffer? Is there a
physician who can cure me, or a priest who will absolve me? I have
told my story to both priest and doctor, and one has enjoined me to
fast and to chastise myself, the other to drink no brandy and to have
myself bled. Neither of them is worth a straw, and such counsel only
makes the matter worse."
"I will advise you," said Ivan. "Marry."
Saffran looked with some surprise at his employer, and after a minute
a feeble smile stole over his face.
"I have thought of that. Perhaps if I had children of my own this
horror of them would disappear."
"Then why don't you marry?"
"Because I am such a poor devil. If two beggars come together, then
you have a couple of paupers instead of one. One must first have
something to live on."
"That is true; but you are an industrious fellow. I have long wanted
to have you as a first-class pitman, but I waited to advance you until
you got married. It is my rule to give all the best places to married
men. I have found by experience that the unmarried ones, when they get
higher pay, go straight to the bad. There is more dependence to be
placed in a married man; he won't leave his place for a mere nothing.
Therefore, consider the matter. After the first Saturday on which you
can tell me that you have been called in church with your intended,
you will receive the pay of a pitman, and I shall give you a
dwelling-house for yourself."
Peter's face was a study. He could not believe that what he heard was
real earnest. When this was made clear to him, he was ready to fall at
the feet of his benefactor; he almost sobbed as he stammered forth
some words of thanks.
"Now," cried Ivan, with friendly encouragement, "to-day is a Sunday.
Does nothing occur to you, my friend?"
The man sprang to his feet.
"Service has not yet begun," went on Ivan; "the congregation have not
all arrived at the church yet. I think there would be time for you to
catch up your bride and go with her to the clergyman."
Peter said no word to this proposal, but he began to run; his legs
were long, and he was soon out of sight. He was bareheaded; he had
forgotten his hat upon the seat. Ivan saw it, and took it into his
house to keep, but he stood looking after the fleet lover until he had
disappeared behind the stone wall at the turning. Then he went in,
with Saffran's hat in his hand.
"How happy he is!" he thought, and sighed.
When he was in his room he wrote in his day-book that from the
following day, Monday, he had engaged Peter Saffran as a first-class
pitman with the usual wages, and that in his place another day-laborer
should be taken on. When he had closed the book, his heart whispered--
"My cruel master, art thou content?"
But Ivan had his misgivings, and answered his heart thus--
"I don't believe in you, since I have seen how easy it was for you to
slip on the ice. I must for the future watch closely. I am not sure of
the purity of my own motives even now. God knows what lies under this
apparent abnegation. Perhaps you think as a young wife--But I shall
watch you closely, traitorous heart of mine; you shall lead me into no
more pitfalls."
Again he consulted his account-book, and found that the increase in
this year's income allowed him to take on an overseer at a very fair
salary. He wrote out the proper advertisement, and despatched it that
very evening to different papers for insertion. In this way he would
not be thrown into daily contact with his work-people.