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THE RED ONE
THE RED ONE
by Jack London
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THE RED ONE
THE RED ONE
THERE it was！ The abrupt liberation of sound！ As he timed it with
his watch； Bassett likened it to the trump of an archangel。 Walls of cities；
he meditated； might well fall down before so vast and compelling a
summons。 For the thousandth time vainly he tried to analyse the tone…
quality of that enormous peal that dominated the land far into the strong…
holds of the surrounding tribes。 The mountain gorge which was its
source rang to the rising tide of it until it brimmed over and flooded earth
and sky and air。 With the wantonness of a sick man's fancy； he likened it
to the mighty cry of some Titan of the Elder World vexed with misery or
wrath。 Higher and higher it arose； challenging and demanding in such
profounds of volume that it seemed intended for ears beyond the narrow
confines of the solar system。 There was in it； too； the clamour of protest
in that there were no ears to hear and comprehend its utterance。
… Such the sick man's fancy。 Still he strove to analyse the sound。
Sonorous as thunder was it； mellow as a golden bell； thin and sweet as a
thrummed taut cord of silver … no； it was none of these； nor a blend of
these。 There were no words nor semblances in his vocabulary and
experience with which to describe the totality of that sound。
Time passed。 Minutes merged into quarters of hours； and quarters of
hours into half…hours； and still the sound persisted； ever changing from its
initial vocal impulse yet never receiving fresh impulse … fading； dimming；
dying as enormously as it had sprung into being。 It became a confusion
of troubled mutterings and babblings and colossal whisperings。 Slowly it
withdrew； sob by sob； into whatever great bosom had birthed it； until it
whimpered deadly whispers of wrath and as equally seductive whispers of
delight； striving still to be heard； to convey some cosmic secret； some
understanding of infinite import and value。 It dwindled to a ghost of
sound that had lost its menace and promise； and became a thing that
pulsed on in the sick man's consciousness for minutes after it had ceased。
When he could hear it no longer； Bassett glanced at his watch。 An hour
had elapsed ere that archangel's trump had subsided into tonal
nothingness。
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THE RED ONE
Was this； then； HIS dark tower？ … Bassett pondered； remembering his
Browning and gazing at his skeleton…like and fever…wasted hands。 And the
fancy made him smile … of Childe Roland bearing a slug…horn to his lips
with an arm as feeble as his was。 Was it months； or years； he asked
himself； since he first heard that mysterious call on the beach at Ringmanu？
To save himself he could not tell。 The long sickness had been most long。
In conscious count of time he knew of months； many of them； but he had
no way of estimating the long intervals of delirium and stupor。 And how
fared Captain Bateman of the blackbirder NARI？ he wondered； and had
Captain Bateman's drunken mate died of delirium tremens yet？
From which vain speculations； Bassett turned idly to review all that
had occurred since that day on the beach of Ringmanu when he first heard
the sound and plunged into the jungle after it。 Sagawa had protested。
He could see him yet； his queer little monkeyish face eloquent with fear；
his back burdened with specimen cases； in his hands Bassett's butterfly net
and naturalist's shot…gun； as he quavered； in Beche…de…mer English： 〃Me
fella too much fright along bush。 Bad fella boy； too much stop'm along
bush。〃
Bassett smiled sadly at the recollection。 The little New Hanover boy
had been frightened； but had proved faithful； following him without
hesitancy into the bush in the quest after the source of the wonderful
sound。 No fire…hollowed tree…trunk； that； throbbing war through the
jungle depths； had been Bassett's conclusion。 Erroneous had been his next
conclusion； namely； that the source or cause could not be more distant than
an hour's walk； and that he would easily be back by mid…afternoon to be
picked up by the NARI'S whale…boat。
〃That big fella noise no good； all the same devil…devil；〃 Sagawa had
adjudged。 And Sagawa had been right。 Had he not had his head hacked
off within the day？ Bassett shuddered。 Without doubt Sagawa had been
eaten as well by the 〃bad fella boys too much〃 that stopped along the bush。
He could see him； as he had last seen him； stripped of the shot…gun and all
the naturalist's gear of his master； lying on the narrow trail where he had
been decapitated barely the moment before。 Yes； within a minute the
thing had happened。 Within a minute； looking back； Bassett had seen
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THE RED ONE
him trudging patiently along under his burdens。 Then Bassett's own
trouble had come upon him。 He looked at the cruelly healed stumps of
the first and second fingers of his left hand； then rubbed them softly into
the indentation in the back of his skull。 Quick as had been the flash of
the long handled tomahawk； he had been quick enough to duck away his
head and partially to deflect the stroke with his up…flung hand。 Two
fingers and a hasty scalp…wound had been the price he paid for his life。
With one barrel of his ten… gauge shot…gun he had blown the life out of the
bushman who had so nearly got him； with the other barrel he had peppered
the bushmen bending over Sagawa； and had the pleasure of knowing that
the major portion of the charge had gone into the one who leaped away
with Sagawa's head。 Everything had occurred in a flash。 Only himself；
the slain bushman； and what remained of Sagawa； were in the narrow；
wild…pig run of a path。 From the dark jungle on either side came no
rustle of movement or sound of life。 And he had suffered distinct and
dreadful shock。 For the first time in his life he had killed a human being；
and he knew nausea as he contemplated the mess of his handiwork。
Then had begun the chase。 He retreated up the pig…run before his
hunters； who were between him and the beach。 How many there were；
he could not guess。 There might have been one； or a hundred； for aught
he saw of them。 That some of them took to the trees and travelled along
through the jungle roof he was certain； but at the most he never glimpsed
more than an occasional flitting of shadows。 No bow…strings twanged that
he could hear； but every little while； whence discharged he knew not； tiny
arrows whispered past him or struck tree…boles and fluttered to the ground
beside him。 They were bone…tipped and feather shafted； and the feathers；
torn from the breasts of humming…birds； iridesced like jewels。
Once … and now； after the long lapse of time； he chuckled gleefully at
the recollection … he had detected a shadow above him that came to instant
rest as he turned his gaze upward。 He could make out nothing； but；
deciding to chance it； had fired at it a heavy charge of number five shot。
Squalling like an infuriated cat； the shadow crashed down through tree…
ferns and orchids and thudded upon the earth at his feet； and； still
squalling its rage and pain； had sunk its human teeth into the ankle of his
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stout tramping boot。 He； on the other hand； was not idle； and with his
free foot had done what reduced the squalling to silence。 So inured to
savagery has Bassett since become； that he chuckled again with the