The Lagoon
The white man, leaning with both arms over the roof of the
little house in the stern of the boat, said to the steersman--
'We will pass the night in Arsat's
clearing. It is late.'
The Malay only grunted, and went on
looking fixedly at the river. The white man rested his chin on his crossed arms
and gazed at the wake of the boat. At the end of the straight avenue of forests
cut by the intense glitter of the river, the sun appeared unclouded and
dazzling, poised low over the water that shone smoothly like a band of metal.
The forests, somber and dull, stood motionless and silent on each side of the
broad stream. At the foot of big, towering trees, trunkless nipa palms rose
from the mud of the bank, in bunches of leaves enormous and heavy, that hung
unstirring over the brown swirl of eddies. In the stillness of the air every
tree, every leaf, every bough, every tendril of creeper and every petal of
minute blossoms seemed to have been bewitched into an immobility perfect and
final. Nothing moved on the river but the eight paddles that rose flashing
regularly, dipped together with a single splash; while the steersman swept
right and left with a periodic and sudden flourish of his blade describing a
glinting semicircle above his head. The churnedup water frothed alongside with
a confused murmur. And the white man's canoe, advancing up stream in the
short-lived disturbance of its own making, seemed to enter the portals of a
land from which the very memory of motion had for ever departed.
The white man, turning his back
upon the setting sun, looked along the empty and broad expanse of the
sea-reach. For the last three miles of its course the wandering, hesitating
river, as if enticed irresistibly by the freedom of an open horizon, flows
straight into the sea, flows straight to the east - to the east that harbors
both light and darkness. Astern of the boat the repeated call of some bird, a
cry discordant and feeble, skipped along over the smooth water and lost itself,
before it could reach the other shore, in the breathless silence of the world.
The steersman dug his paddle into
the stream, and held hard with stiffened arms, his body thrown forward. The
water gurgled aloud; and suddenly the long straight reach seemed to pivot on
its center, the forests swung in a semicircle, and the slanting beams of sunset
touched the broadside of the canoe with a fiery glow, throwing the slender and
distorted shadows of its crew upon the streaked glitter of the river. The white
man turned to look ahead. The course of the boat had been altered at
right-angles to the stream, and the carved dragon-head of its prow was pointing
now at a gap in the fringing bushes of the bank. It glided through, brushing
the overhanging twigs, and disappeared from the river like some slim and
amphibious creature leaving the water for its lair in the forests.
The narrow creek was like a ditch:
tortuous, fabulously deep; filled with gloom under the thin strip of pure and
shining blue of the heaven. Immense trees soared up, invisible behind the
festooned draperies of creepers. Here and there, near the glistening blackness
of the water, a twisted root of some tall tree showed amongst the tracery of
small ferns, black and dull, writhing and motionless, like an arrested snake.
The short words of the paddlers reverberated loudly between the thick and
somber walls of vegetation. Darkness oozed out from between the trees, through
the tangled maze of the creepers, from behind the great fantastic and unstirring
leaves; the darkness, mysterious and invincible; the darkness scented and
poisonous of impenetrable forests.
The men poled in the shoaling
water. The creek broadened, opening out into a wide sweep of a stagnant lagoon.
The forests receded from the marshy bank, leaving a level strip of
bright-green, reedy grass to frame the reflected blueness of the sky. A fleecy
pink cloud drifted high above, trailing the delicate coloring of its image
under the floating leaves and the silvery blossoms of the lotus. A little
house, perched on high piles, appeared black in the distance. Near it, two tall
nibong palms, that seemed to have come out of the forests in the background,
leaned slightly over the ragged roof, with a suggestion of sad tenderness and
care in the droop of their leafy and soaring heads.
The steersman, pointing with his
paddle, said, 'Arsat is there. I see his canoe fast between the piles.'
The polers ran along the sides of
the boat glancing over their shoulders at the end of the day's journey. They
would have preferred to spend the night somewhere else than on this lagoon of
weird aspect and ghostly reputation. Moreover, they disliked Arsat, first as a
stranger, and also because he who repairs a ruined house, and dwells in it,
proclaims that he is not afraid to live amongst the spirits that haunt the
places abandoned by mankind. Such a man can disturb the course of fate by
glances or words; while his familiar ghosts are not easy to propitiate by
casual wayfarers upon whom they long to wreak the malice of their human master.
White men care not for such things, being unbelievers and in league with the
Father of Evil, who leads them unharmed through the invisible dangers of this
world. To the warnings of the righteous they oppose an offensive pretence of
disbelief. What is there to be done?
So they thought, throwing their
weight on the end of their long poles. The big canoe glided on swiftly,
noiselessly and smoothly, towards Arsat's clearing, till, in a great rattling
of poles thrown down, and the loud murmurs of 'Allah be praised!' it came with
a gentle knock against the crooked piles below the house.
The boatmen with uplifted faces
shouted discordantly, 'Arsat! O Arsat!' Nobody came. The white man began to
climb the rude ladder giving access to the bamboo platform before the house.
The juragan of the boat said sulkily, 'We will cook in the sampan, and sleep on
the water.'
'Pass my blankets and the basket,'
said the white man curtly.
He knelt on the edge of the
platform to receive the bundle. Then the boat shoved off, and the white man,
standing up, confronted Arsat, who had come out through the low door of his
hut. He was a man young, powerful, with a broad chest and muscular arms. He had
nothing on but his sarong. His head was bare. His big, soft eyes stared eagerly
at the white man, but his voice and demeanor were composed as he asked, without
any words of greeting--
'Have you medicine, Tuan?'
'No,' said the visitor in a
startled tone. 'No. Why? Is there sickness in the house?'
'Enter and see,' replied Arsat, in
the same calm manner, and turning short round, passed again through the small
doorway. The white man, dropping his bundles, followed.
In the dim light of the dwelling he
made out on a couch of bamboos a woman stretched on her back under a broad
sheet of red cotton cloth. She lay still, as if dead; but her big eyes, wide
open, glittered in the gloom, staring upwards at the slender rafters,
motionless and unseeing. She was in a high fever, and evidently unconscious.
Her cheeks were sunk slightly, her lips were partly open, and on the young face
there was the ominous and fixed expression - the absorbed, contemplating
expression of the unconscious who are going to die. The two men stood looking
down at her in silence.
'Has she been long ill?' asked the
traveler.
'I have not slept for five nights,'
answered the Malay, in a deliberate tone. 'At first she heard voices calling
her from the water and struggled against me who held her. But since the sun of
to-day rose she hears nothing - she hears not me. She sees nothing. She sees
not me - me!'
He remained silent for a minute,
then asked softly--
'Tuan, will she die?'
'I fear so,' said the white man
sorrowfully. He had known Arsat years ago, in a far country in times of trouble
and danger, when no friendship is to be despised. And since his Malay friend
had come unexpectedly to dwell in the hut on the lagoon with a strange woman,
he had slept many times there, in his journeys up or down the river. He liked
the man who knew how to keep faith in council and how to fight without fear by
the side of his white friend. He liked him - not so much perhaps as a man likes
his favorite dog - but still he liked him well enough to help and ask no
questions, to think sometimes vaguely and hazily in the midst of his own
pursuits, about the lonely man and the long-haired woman with audacious face
and triumphant eyes, who lived together hidden by the forests - alone and
feared.
The white man came out of the hut
in time to see the enormous conflagration of sunset put out by the swift and
stealthy shadows that, rising like a black and impalpable vapor above the
tree-tops, spread over the heaven, extinguishing the crimson glow of floating
clouds and the red brilliance of departing daylight. In a few moments all the stars
came out above the intense blackness of the earth, and the great lagoon
gleaming suddenly with reflected lights resembled an oval patch of night-sky
flung down into the hopeless and abysmal night of the wilderness. The white man
had some supper out of the basket, then collecting a few sticks that lay about
the platform, made up a small fire, not for warmth, but for the sake of the
smoke, which would keep off the mosquitos. He wrapped himself in his blankets
and sat with his back against the reed wall of the house, smoking thoughtfully.
Arsat came through the doorway with
noiseless steps and squatted down by the fire. The white man moved his
outstretched legs a little.
'She breathes,' said Arsat in a low
voice, anticipating the expected question. 'She breathes and burns as if with a
great fire. She speaks not; she hears not - and burns!'
He paused for a moment, then asked
in a quiet, incurious tone--
'Tuan ... will she die?'
The white man moved his shoulders
uneasily, and muttered in a hesitating manner--
'If such is her fate.'
'No, Tuan,' said Arsat calmly. 'If
such is my fate. I hear, I see, I wait. I remember ... Tuan, do you remember
the old days? Do you remember my brother?'
'Yes,' said the white man. The
Malay rose suddenly and went in. The other, sitting still outside, could hear
the voice in the hut. Arsat said: 'Hear me! Speak!' His words were succeeded by
a complete silence. 'O! Diamelen!' he cried suddenly. After that cry there was
a deep sigh. Arsat came out and sank down again in his old place.
They sat in silence before the
fire. There was no sound within the house, there was no sound near them; but
far away on the lagoon they could hear the voices of the boatmen ringing fitful
and distinct on the calm water. The fire in the bows of the sampan shone
faintly in the distance with a hazy red glow. Then it died out. The voices
ceased. The land and the water slept invisible, unstirring and mute. It was as
though there had been nothing left in the world but the glitter of stars
streaming, ceaseless and vain, through the black stillness of the night.
The white man gazed straight before
him into the darkness with wide-open eyes. The fear and fascination, the
inspiration and the wonder of death - of death near, unavoidable and unseen,
soothed the unrest of his race and stirred the most indistinct, the most
intimate of his thoughts. The ever-ready suspicion of evil, the gnawing
suspicion that lurks in our hearts, flowed out into the stillness round him -
into the stillness profound and dumb, and made it appear untrustworthy and
infamous, like the placid and impenetrable mask of an unjustifiable violence.
In that fleeting and powerful disturbance of his being the earth enfolded in
the starlight peace became a shadowy country of inhuman strife, a battle-field
of phantoms terrible and charming, august or ignoble, struggling ardently for
the possession of our helpless hearts. An unquiet and mysterious country of
inextinguishable desires and fears.
A plaintive murmur rose in the
night; a murmur saddening and startling, as if the great solitudes of
surrounding woods had tried to whisper into his ear the wisdom of their immense
and lofty indifference. Sounds hesitating and vague floated in the air round him,
shaped themselves slowly into words; and at last flowed on gently in a
murmuring stream of soft and monotonous sentences. He stirred like a man waking
up and changed his position slightly. Arsat, motionless and shadowy, sitting
with bowed head under the stars, was speaking in a low and dreamy tone.
'... for where can we lay down the
heaviness of our trouble but in a friend's heart? A man must speak of war and
of love. You, Tuan, know what war is, and you have seen me in time of danger
seek death as other men seek life! A writing may be lost; a lie may be written;
but what the eye has seen is truth and remains in the mind!'
'I remember,' said the white man
quietly. Arsat went on with mournful composure.
'Therefore I shall speak to you of
love. Speak in the night. Speak before both night and love are gone - and the
eye of day looks upon my sorrow and my shame; upon my blackened face; upon my
burnt-up heart.'
A sigh, short and faint, marked an
almost imperceptible pause, and then his words flowed on, without a stir,
without a gesture.
'After the time of trouble and war
was over and you went away from my country in the pursuit of your desires,
which we, men of the islands, cannot understand, I and my brother became again,
as we had been before, the sword-bearers of the Ruler. You know we were men of
family, belonging to a ruling race, and more fit than any to carry on our right
shoulder the emblem of power. And in the time of prosperity Si Dendring showed
us favor, as we, in time of sorrow, had showed to him the faithfulness of our
courage. It was a time of peace. A time of deer-hunts and cock-fights; of idle
talks and foolish squabbles between men whose bellies are full and weapons are
rusty. But the sower watched the young rice-shoots grow up without fear, and
the traders came and went, departed lean and returned fat into the river of
peace. They brought news too. Brought lies and truth mixed together, so that no
man knew when to rejoice and when to be sorry. We heard from them about you
also. They had seen you here and had seen you there. And I was glad to hear,
for I remembered the stirring times, and I always remembered you, Tuan, till
the time came when my eyes could see nothing in the past, because they had
looked upon the one who is dying there - in the house.'
He stopped to exclaim in an intense
whisper, 'O Mara bahia! O Calamity!' then went on speaking a little louder.
'There's no worse enemy and no
better friend than a brother, Tuan, for one brother knows another, and in
perfect knowledge is strength for good or evil. I loved my brother. I went to
him and told him that I could see nothing but one face, hear nothing but one
voice. He told me: "Open your heart so that she can see what is in it -
and wait. Patience is wisdom. Inchi Midah may die or our Ruler may throw off
his fear of a woman!" ... I waited! ... You remember the lady with the
veiled face, Tuan, and the fear of our Ruler before her cunning and temper. And
if she wanted her servant, what could I do? But I fed the hunger of my heart on
short glances and stealthy words. I loitered on the path to the bath-houses in
the daytime, and when the sun had fallen behind the forest I crept along the
jasmine hedges of the women's courtyard. Unseeing, we spoke to one another
through the scent of flowers, through the veil of leaves, through the blades of
long grass that stood still before our lips: so great was our prudence, so
faint was the murmur of our great longing. The time passed swiftly ... and
there were whispers amongst women - and our enemies watched - my brother was
gloomy, and I began to think of killing and of a fierce death. ... We are of a
people who take what they want - like you whites. There is a time when a man
should forget loyalty and respect. Might and authority are given to rulers, but
to all men is given love and strength and courage. My brother said, "You
shall take her from their midst. We are two who are like one." And I
answered, "Let it be soon, for I find no warmth in sunlight that does not
shine upon her." Our time came when the Ruler and all the great people
went to the mouth of the river to fish by torchlight. There were hundreds of
boats, and on the white sand, between the water and the forests, dwellings of
leaves were built for the households of the Rajahs. The smoke of cooking-fires
was like a blue mist of the evening, and many voices rang in it joyfully. While
they were making the boats ready to beat up the fish, my brother came to me and
said, "To-night!" I made ready my weapons, and when the time came our
canoe took its place in the circle of boats carrying the torches. The lights
blazed on the water, but behind the boats there was darkness. When the shouting
began and the excitement made them like mad we dropped out. The water swallowed
our fire, and we floated back to the shore that was dark with only here and
there the glimmer of embers. We could hear the talk of slavegirls amongst the
sheds. Then we found a place deserted and silent. We waited there. She came.
She came running along the shore, rapid and leaving no trace, like a leaf
driven by the wind into the sea. My brother said gloomily, "Go and take
her; carry her into our boat." I lifted her in my arms. She panted. Her
heart was beating against my breast. I said, "I take you from those
people. You came to the cry of my heart, but my arms take you into my boat
against the will of the great!" "It is right," said my brother.
"We are men who take what we want and can hold it against many. We should
have taken her in daylight." I said, "Let us be off;" for since
she was in my boat I began to think of our Ruler's many men. "Yes. Let us
be off," said my brother. "We are cast out and this boat is our
country now - and the sea is our refuge." He lingered with his foot on the
shore, and I entreated him to hasten, for I remembered the strokes of her heart
against my breast and thought that two men cannot withstand a hundred. We left,
paddling downstream close to the bank; and as we passed by the creek where they
were fishing, the great shouting had ceased, but the murmur of voices was loud
like the humming of insects flying at noonday. The boats floated, clustered
together, in the red light of torches, under a black roof of smoke; and men
talked of their sport. Men that boasted, and praised, and jeered - men that
would have been our friends in the morning, but on that night were already our
enemies. We paddled swiftly past. We had no more friends in the country of our
birth. She sat in the middle of the canoe with covered face; silent as she is
now; unseeing as she is now - and I had no regret at what I was leaving because
I could hear her breathing close to me - as I can hear her now.'
He paused, listened with his ear
turned to the doorway, then shook his head and went on.
'My brother wanted to shout the cry
of challenge - one cry only - to let the people know we were freeborn robbers
that trusted our arms and the great sea. And again I begged him in the name of
our love to be silent. Could I not hear her breathing close to me? I knew the
pursuit would come quick enough. My brother loved me. He dipped his paddle
without a splash. He only said, "There is half a man in you now - the
other half is in that woman. I can wait. When you are a whole man again, you
will come back with me here to shout defiance. We are sons of the same
mother." I made no answer. All my strength and all my spirit were in my
hands that held the paddle - for I longed to be with her in a safe place beyond
the reach of men's anger and of women's spite. My love was so great, that I
thought it could guide me to a country where death was unknown, if I could only
escape from Inchi Midah's spite and from our Ruler's sword. We paddled with
fury, breathing through our teeth. The blades bit deep into the smooth water.
We passed out of the river; we flew in clear channels amongst the shallows. We
skirted the black coast; we skirted the sand beaches where the sea speaks in whispers
to the land; and the gleam of white sand flashed back past our boat, so swiftly
she ran upon the water. We spoke not. Only once I said, "Sleep, Diamelen,
for soon you may want all your strength." I heard the sweetness of her
voice, but I never turned my head. The sun rose and still we went on. Water
fell from my face like rain from a cloud. We flew in the light and heat. I
never looked back, but I knew that my brother's eyes, behind me, were looking
steadily ahead, for the boat went as straight as a bushman's dart, when it
leaves the end of the sumpitan. There was no better paddler, no better
steersman than my brother. Many times, together, we had won races in that
canoe. But we never had put out our strength as we did then - then, when for
the last time we paddled together! There was no braver or stronger man in our
country than my brother. I could not spare the strength to turn my head and
look at him, but every moment I heard the hiss of his breath getting louder
behind me. Still he did not speak. The sun was high. The heat clung to my back
like a flame of fire. My ribs were ready to burst, but I could no longer get
enough air into my chest. And then I felt I must cry out with my last breath,
"Let us rest!" "Good!" he answered; and his voice was firm.
He was strong. He was brave. He knew not fear and no fatigue ... My brother!'
A rumor powerful and gentle, a
rumor vast and faint; the rumor of trembling leaves, of stirring boughs, ran
through the tangled depths of the forests, ran over the starry smoothness of
the lagoon, and the water between the piles lapped the slimy timber once with a
sudden splash. A breath of warm air touched the two men's faces and passed on
with a mournful sound - a breath loud and short like an uneasy sigh of the
dreaming earth.
Arsat went on in an even, low
voice.
'We ran our canoe on the white
beach of a little bay close to a long tongue of land that seemed to bar our
road; a long wooded cape going far into the sea. My brother knew that place.
Beyond the cape a river has its entrance. Through the jungle of that land there
is a narrow path. We made a fire and cooked rice. Then we slept on the soft
sand in the shade of our canoe, while she watched. No sooner had I closed my
eyes than I heard her cry of alarm. We leaped up. The sun was halfway down the
sky already, and coming in sight in the opening of the bay we saw a prau manned
by many paddlers. We knew it at once; it was one of our Rajah's praus. They
were watching the shore, and saw us. They beat the gong, and turned the head of
the prau into the bay. I felt my heart become weak within my breast. Diamelen
sat on the sand and covered her face. There was no escape by sea. My brother
laughed. He had the gun you had given him, Tuan, before you went away, but there
was only a handful of powder. He spoke to me quickly: "Run with her along
the path. I shall keep them back, for they have no firearms, and landing in the
face of a man with a gun is certain death for some. Run with her. On the other
side of that wood there is a fisherman's house - and a canoe. When I have fired
all the shots I will follow. I am a great runner, and before they can come up
we shall be gone. I will hold out as long as I can, for she is but a woman -
that can neither run nor fight, but she has your heart in her weak hands."
He dropped behind the canoe. The prau was coming. She and I ran, and as we
rushed along the path I heard shots. My brother fired - once - twice - and the
booming of the gong ceased. There was silence behind us. That neck of land is
narrow. Before I heard my brother fire the third shot I saw the shelving shore,
and I saw the water again: the mouth of a broad river. We crossed a grassy
glade. We ran down to the water. I saw a low hut above the black mud, and a
small canoe hauled up. I heard another shot behind me. I thought, "That is
his last charge." We rushed down to the canoe; a man came running from the
hut, but I leaped on him, and we rolled together in the mud. Then I got up, and
he lay still at my feet. I don't know whether I had killed him or not. I and
Diamelen pushed the canoe afloat. I heard yells behind me, and I saw my brother
run across the glade. Many men were bounding after him. I took her in my arms
and threw her into the boat, then leaped in myself. When I looked back I saw
that my brother had fallen. He fell and was up again, but the men were closing
round him. He shouted, "I am coming!" The men were close to him. I
looked. Many men. Then I looked at her. Tuan, I pushed the canoe! I pushed it
into deep water. She was kneeling forward looking at me, and I said, "Take
your paddle," while I struck the water with mine. Tuan, I heard him cry. I
heard him cry my name twice; and I heard voices shouting, "Kill!
Strike!" I never turned back. I heard him calling my name again with a
great shriek, as when life is going out together with the voice - and I never
turned my head. My own name! ... My brother! Three times he called - but I was
not afraid of life. Was she not there in that canoe? And could I not with her
find a country where death is forgotten - where death is unknown?'
The white man sat up. Arsat rose
and stood, an indistinct and silent figure above the dying embers of the fire.
Over the lagoon a mist drifting and low had crept, erasing slowly the
glittering images of the stars. And now a great expanse of white vapor covered
the land: flowed cold and gray in the darkness, eddied in noiseless whirls
round the tree-trunks and about the platform of the house, which seemed to
float upon a restless and impalpable illusion of a sea; seemed the only thing
surviving the destruction of the world by that undulating and voiceless phantom
of a flood. Only far away the tops of the trees stood outlined on the twinkle
of heaven, like a somber and forbidding shore - a coast deceptive, pitiless and
black.
Arsat's voice vibrated loudly in
the profound peace.
'I had her there! I had her! To get
her I would have faced all mankind. But I had her - and--'
His words went out ringing into the
empty distances. He paused, and seemed to listen to them dying away very far -
beyond help and beyond recall. Then he said quietly--
'Tuan, I loved my brother.'
A breath of wind made him shiver.
High above his head, high above the silent sea of mist the drooping leaves of
the palms rattled together with a mournful and expiring sound. The white man
stretched his legs. His chin rested on his chest, and he murmured sadly without
lifting his head--
'We all love our brothers.'
Arsat burst out with an intense
whispering violence--
'What did I care who died? I wanted
peace in my own heart.'
He seemed to hear a stir in the
house - listened - then stepped in noiselessly. The white man stood up. A
breeze was coming in fitful puffs. The stars shone paler as if they had
retreated into the frozen depths of immense space. After a chill gust of wind
there were a few seconds of perfect calm and absolute silence. Then from behind
the black and wavy line of the forests a column of golden light shot up into
the heavens and spread over the semicircle of the eastern horizon. The sun had
risen. The mist lifted, broke into drifting patches, vanished into thin flying
wreaths; and the unveiled lagoon lay, polished and black, in the heavy shadows
at the foot of the wall of trees. A white eagle rose over it with a slanting
and ponderous flight, reached the clear sunshine and appeared dazzlingly
brilliant for a moment, then soaring higher, became a dark and motionless speck
before it vanished into the blue as if it had left the earth for ever. The
white man, standing gazing upwards before the doorway, heard in the hut a
confused and broken murmur of distracted words ending with a loud groan.
Suddenly Arsat stumbled out with outstretched hands, shivered, and stood still
for some time with fixed eyes. Then he said--
'She burns no more.'
Before his face the sun showed its
edge above the tree-tops, rising steadily. The breeze freshened; a great
brilliance burst upon the lagoon, sparkled on the rippling water. The forests
came out of the clear shadows of the morning, became distinct, as if they had
rushed nearer - to stop short in a great stir of leaves, of nodding boughs, of
swaying branches. In the merciless sunshine the whisper of unconscious life
grew louder, speaking in an incomprehensible voice round the dumb darkness of
that human sorrow. Arsat's eyes wandered slowly, then stared at the rising sun.
'I can see nothing,' he said half
aloud to himself.
'There is nothing,' said the white
man, moving to the edge of the platform and waving his hand to his boat. A
shout came faintly over the lagoon and the sampan began to glide towards the
abode of the friend of ghosts.
'If you want to come with me, I
will wait all the morning,' said the white man, looking away upon the water.
'No, Tuan,' said Arsat softly. 'I
shall not eat or sleep in this house, but I must first see my road. Now I can
see nothing - see nothing! There is no light and no peace in the world; but
there is death - death for many. We were sons of the same mother - and I left
him in the midst of enemies; but I am going back now.'
He drew a long breath and went on
in a dreamy tone.
'In a little while I shall see
clear enough to strike - to strike. But she has died, and ... now ...
darkness.'
He flung his arms wide open, let
them fall along his body, then stood still with unmoved face and stony eyes,
staring at the sun. The white man got down into his canoe. The polers ran
smartly along the sides of the boat, looking over their shoulders at the
beginning of a weary journey. High in the stern, his head muffled up in white
rags, the juragan sat moody, letting his paddle trail in the water. The white
man, leaning with both arms over the grass roof of the little cabin, looked
back at the shining ripple of the boat's wake. Before the sampan passed out of
the lagoon into the creek he lifted his eyes. Arsat had not moved. In the searching
clearness of crude sunshine he was still standing before the house, he was
still looking through the great light of a cloudless day into the hopeless
darkness of the world.
بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
البحيرة
الفكرة العامة
ترجمة. محمد عبد الفتاح
بداية القصة مع رجل ابيض كان مسافراً على متن قاربه مع عدد من الرجال
المجذفين وقائد الدفة. قبل الغروب بقليل اوقفوا قاربهم على ضفة النهر ليقضوا الليل
داخل الغابة التي كانت مجاورة لذلك النهر.
دخلوا جميعاً الغابة وكان امامهم منزل او بالاحرى كوخ , عندما شاهدهُ
الرجال المجذفين , اخذوا يصيحون ارسات ارسات. ثم اخبروا الرجل الابيض ان هذا البيت
مسكون من قبل رجل يدعى ارسات ومعه عدد من الاشباح , كما اخبروه ايضاً انهم سيغضون
الليل على ظهر قاربهم فوق ماء النهر , ثم غادروا.
الرجل الابيض لم يهتم لما قالوه , فالرجال البيض كانوا يعتبرون ان
هنالك اتفاق او تحالف بينهم وبين "اب الشر"
توجه الرجل الابيض نحو البيت
وهنالك قابله رجل كان خارجاً من البيت . لقد كان ارسات لقد كان شاباً
وتبدوا عليه مظاهر القوة , ثم من غير تحية سأل ارسات الرجل الابيض:
هل لديك دواء ؟
اجاب الرجل الابيض : لا , هل معك شخص مريض في ذلك البيت؟
هنا قام ارسات بدعوة الرجل الابيض لدخول البيت لكي يرى بنفسه.
عندما دخل الرجل , شاهد امرأة ترقد داخل البيت وكأنها ميتة , وكانت
عيناها مفتوحتان وواسعتان , لقد كانت تعاني من حمة شديدة.
وقف ارسات والرجل الابيض ينظران اليها طويلاً , بعد ذلك خرج الرجل
الابيض من الكوخ وجلس بالقرب من بحيرة كانت بالقرب من البيت مع مياه ساكنة حتى انك
تستطيع ان ترى انعكاس النجوم فيها بوضوح.
خرج ارسات من البيت وجلس بالقرب من الرجل الابيض. في الحقيقة كان
ارسات والرجل الابيض يعرفان بعضهما منذ زمن بعيد فقد كانوا يقاتلون معاً في حروبهم
, لذلك بدأ ارسات يقص على الرجل الابيض قصته التي ادت به للعيش هنا منعزلاً مع تلك
المرأة داخل البيت.
اخبره انه كان له اخ واحد وكانوا يعيشون معاً في القبيلة , كانوا
مرتبطين ببعضهم ارتباطاً وثيقاً , حتى وقع ارسات في حب فتاة جميلة تدعى "
دياملين" كان تعمل خادمة عند زوجة حاكم القبيلة . كان ارسات يذهب دائماً
لمقابلة تلك الفتاة والتحدث معها, حتى عرفت بعض النساء اللواتى اصبحن يتكلمن عن
تلك العلاقة التي كانت بين الفتاة وارسات . هذا جعل ارسات يشعر بالغضب ويبدأ
بالتفكير في الموت والقتل, عندما شاهده اخوه في هذه الحالة , اشار عليه ان يأخذ
الفتاة ويهرب من القبيلة. وافق ارسات على الفكرة وكانوا هو واخوه في انتظار الفرصة
المناسبة . وفي احد الايام خرج حاكم القبلية للصيد مع كل رجاله في مئات من
المراكب.
ارسات واخيه انتظروا حتى قدوم الليل ثم قاموا بوضع قاربهم بعيداً عن
مكان تجمع الحاكم ورجاله , ثم ذهبوا الى الفتاة واخبروها بخطتهم . اخيراً قاموا
بأنتظارها حتى اتت اليهم تركض , هنا اخذها ارسات في حضنه وجرى بها الى ان وضعها
على القارب .
ركب هو واخوه المركب ثم بدءوا التجذيف . بعد ساعات طويلة شعَرَ ارسات
بالتعب , اقترح على اخيه التوقف واخذ قسط من الراحة , وافق اخوه ثم نزلوا من
المركب وجلسوا على رمال الشاطئ . في هذه الاثناء كان رجال الملك يبحثون عنهم
وعندما شاهدوهم , اقترح الاخ خطة كان مضمونها ان يأخذ ارسات الفتاة ويذهبوا الى
الجهة المقابلة حيث سيجدون كوخ صياد سمك
وهنالك قارب في ذلك المكان . على ارسات اخذ ذلك القارب وانتظار اخيه حتى يأتي .
اقترح الاخ هذه الخطة لأنه كان يحمل مسدساً مع القليل من البدرة (البارود) بهذا
المسدس يستطيع تأخير رجال الملك حتى يهرب ارسات والفتاة , ثم يتبعهم جرياً لانه
كان سريع في الجرى , ثم ينطلقون بالقارب الذى اخذه ارسات من بيت الصياد .
ذهب ارسات الى الجانب الاخر واخذ القارب وكان في انتظار اخيه.
بعد ان نفذ البارود من الاخ , اخذ يجري نحو ارسات ولكنه وقع ارضاً في
اثناء جريه ثم نهض ولكن كان كل رجال الملك قد احاطوا به , بدءوا بضربه وكانوا
يريدون قتله.
بدأ الاخ يصيح بأسم اخيه ارسات ليأتي ويساعده , ولكن ارسات نظر اليه
ثم نظر الى الفتاة واختار الفتاة. وبينما
كان الاخ يصيح من الالم , ركب ارسات القارب مع الفتاة وانطلقوا.
بينما كان الرجل الابيض يستمع الى قصة ارسات , واذا به هو وارسات
يسمعون صوتاً قادماً من الكوخ . كان الصوت عبارة عن آههة ( ذلك الصوت الذي يخرج من
المتألم). هنا ادركوا ان المرأة التي داخل الكوخ قد ماتت.
في هذه اللحظة احس ارسات انه قد فقد اخوه وفقد حُبه .
عندما اصبح الصبح , اقترح الرجل الابيض على ارسات القدوم معه , لكن
ارسات رفض قائلاً انه الان سيرجع الى القبيلة لأخذ ثأر اخيه.
ارجو ان تكونوا قد استمتعتم بالقصة
ردحذفI hope you had enjoyed the story
و شكراً على زيارتكم
Thank you for visiting