In the dead of night the Colonel descended into the midst of the
village, in boots and torn trousers, and drew water on the long
beam-lever from the well and poured it into the tank, talking gently to
himself while he did it; and the villagers, awakened by the creaking
and rattling, crept to crannies and looked on and trembled.
And in the morning they gathered in the village square and speculated.
Who is he? The women were afraid to go into the forest; the ripe crops
dropped the seed from their ears in the clearings.
Night after night he was there, and graciously tasted of their
offerings of fruit and cakes. No one slept by night but the children,
and the priest who dreamed true dreams. The priest was their hope, for
through him alone could the Soochings learn from the gods what must
be believed and done. And day after day the perplexity grew, for the
priest was old and forgot his dreams; and though he sat till sunset
with the doctors of the law about him, he could not recall them.
But, one day, when they had sat for many hours in silence, watching the
True Dreamer with his head bowed between his knees, trying to remember,
a young priest spoke:
‘I myself have had a dream.’
‘Of what use are your dreams?’ said the old man, looking quickly up.
‘I dreamed that I saw the True Dreamer sleeping; and over him stood the
vision of a dead man, with the burial cords hanging loose about him,
and a peeled rod in his hand as of a messenger.’
A murmur ran round the squatting circle.
‘It is true,’ said the old man ‘I have seen this vision three times.’
‘And the True Dreamer said, “Who is he that cometh by night?” And the
vision answered, “It is the God with Two Names, the inventor of the
blow-pipe, come back to be king over the tribe as in the first time.”’
‘Katongo tells the truth,’ said the old man ‘so spake the vision.’
‘And the True Dreamer said, “Who shall be his chief priest and
interpret his meaning to the multitude?” And the vision answered, “You
yourself, O True Dreamer; and at your right hand shall stand the young
man Katongo, who is foolish, but full of zeal.”’
‘All this was so,’ said the old man. ‘And, furthermore, the messenger
told me the rites by which the God with Two Names may be propitiated.
These rites are a secret which it is unlawful to reveal till the
time be come. But should any of them be left undone, pestilence and
destruction will fall on the whole tribe.’
The True Dreamer arose and went back to his house. The news spread
through the tribe, and there was great rejoicing. The old king was
promptly clubbed on the head, and the priests, attended by the state
conch-blowers and heralds, proclaimed the accession of the new monarch
under the title of King Dwala, Him-of-Two-Names, both unknown; drums
were beaten, hogs were killed, and the tribe gave itself up to frenzies
of loyalty and large draughts of the fermented juice of the mowa-tree.
The Colonel, terrified by the noise, withdrew further into the forest,
and did not dare to return for several days. His absence gave no one
but the priests the least concern, as his place was efficiently filled
by a painted image of ugly and imposing aspect.
Preparations were hurried on for solemnising the nuptials of the new
monarch--or the image--at the new moon, to the sacred sago-tree which
stood in the middle of the place of assembly.
Politically speaking, the result of all these events was that the
war party had captured the machine. The question which divided the
Soochings at this time was the relation to be adopted by the tribe
towards the gold-diggers who had lately penetrated into the Sooching
forest. Many members of the tribe looked upon the miners as harmless
idiots, bound by the curse of some more powerful magician to sweat
at a spade, and too stupid to guard their treasures of wonderful
mugs and tins and nails and even large pieces of corrugated iron from
the clumsiest of thieves; but the seriously-minded tribesmen, and
especially the religious party, penetrated their hidden motive of
digging up the Spirit of Tree-Vigour, and bringing upon the Sooching
forest that same blight of sterility which followed the track of the
white men wherever they went. Nothing, in their view, could appease
the already irritated Spirit but the wholesale destruction of these
desecrators.
The Colonel’s continued absence put the war party in a dangerous
position; the more so as a Jew from the mining camp arrived at this
time with a little cartload of looking-glasses and whisky in the
village, and brought over a number of wobblers to the party of peace.
The True Dreamer worked hard for his party, dreaming judicious dreams
by night, and organising search parties in the daytime for the purpose
of bringing the new king to his throne.
The Colonel watched the search parties with interest, and at last had
the courage to follow one of them back to the edge of the camp. That
night, as he was amusing himself by the well in the moonlight, he was
astonished at hearing a low clear whistle, and seeing men approaching
him slowly from every side with deep obeisances; he had never yet seen
human beings in this attitude, which seemed to be copied from the other
animals. But it appeared that they meant kindly by it, and he let them
approach until they made a small circle about him. A gaunt old man
stood before him with arms upraised to the sky, pouring forth a torrent
of incomprehensible words. Not knowing what was expected of him, the
Colonel took a mug that lay beside him, dipped it in the tank, and
handed it to the old man, whose eyes gushed over with tears of delight
at this sign of favour; while the rest made a clucking noise with their
tongues and said:
‘Dwala malana!’--which means, ‘Glory to Him-of-Two-Names.’
They invited him with gestures to taste the dishes of fruit which lay
about him; and he did so, to their great joy. The village had all
turned out by now; torches flared and smoked on every side; and it
was in a blaze of light and through a thick avenue of men, women and
children that the Colonel was at last conducted to the temple which
had been prepared for him. The noise of conchs and drums had no more
terrors for him now, and he watched the dances with an intensity of
interest that threw him at last into a state of hypnotic coma.
The village slept late next morning. When the Colonel awoke he went
out, from force of habit, to prepare breakfast. The guardians who slept
on the threshold sat up and watched his movements awhile in stupid
amazement; his quiet exit by the window had failed at first to rouse
them.
He was working impatiently and irritably: he was afraid of being late;
nothing was in its place. There was no axe to chop the wood; he had to
break it with his hands. There were no matches, no tins of beef. It
took all the gestures of all the priests to make him understand that
he must not work. In time he grew used to being waited on by others;
he grew used to obeisances and reverence. It was a new interest, and
not more puzzling than most things. One thing disturbed him. Outside
the temple was posted the Royal Minstrel, who played only one tune on
his pipe--the Royal Tune. At first the Colonel had been delighted with
this tune, and had made the minstrel play it to him from morning till
night. But he grew tired of it. Whenever he opened the door, or even so
much as showed his head at a window, the minstrel fired off this thing;
when he went outside the village on any errand the minstrel followed
him playing it. It maddened him, and at last he broke the pipe over the
minstrel’s head and slunk back into his temple, and was very miserable
for the rest of the day. But the people were delighted with this kingly
trait, and the minstrel sold the pieces for a large price.
A strict watch was kept over his movements at first for fear he should
escape; but after a while this was relaxed, and he used to roam at
will in the forest. He usually returned at night, but not always. He
visited the gold-diggings, but was alarmed by the look of the diggers,
who reminded him of the American; he was afraid they would put him
into a hutch. In another part of the forest he found a white man with a
large family. The women and children were greatly frightened; but the
man invited him into the house and told him he was a Missionary. The
Colonel stayed there two days, and was converted to Christianity.
Meanwhile the tribe was preparing for war. The women were sealed up
hermetically in huts; the warriors danced and rubbed their muscles with
mowa juice; and late one night they disappeared silently with shields
and spears among the trees. Next day they appeared again, exultant,
with loads of booty; the white men had been utterly routed.
The stupefaction of the succeeding orgies was partially dispelled after
many days by the frenzy of inspired minstrels, who proclaimed the
imminence of the second Golden Age, and the permanent establishment
of the wise and beneficent empire of the great Prince Dwala,
Him-of-Two-Names, over the whole of the island, and those eyots beyond
which constituted the rest of the habitable world.
The power of actual motion was finally restored by the rattle of
musketry in the grey light of one dawn, and the snapping of twigs
overhead, followed by the appearance of men in khaki among the trees.
Unarmed and unprepared, the villagers fled into the forest beyond, and
not a soul remained but the old Dreamer, who was seeking new visions
in the quiet recesses of his sleeping apartment, and the Colonel,
who ensconced himself comfortably in the sago-tree to watch this new
human phenomenon. Horses crouched and snorted, dragging guns up the
last slope, with a cluster of men straining at each wheel; infantrymen
advanced and halted and turned at a shouted word; and the Colonel sat
and looked on as at a new dance performed for his amusement. He was
delighted at the burning of the huts, which made the biggest flame he
had ever seen; but he grew tired at last of the long pauses in the
ballet; so he climbed down to the tank and splashed water over the
officers.