Island Nights' Entertainments (eBook)

Robert Louis Stevenson (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2018
528 Seiten
Seltzer Books (Verlag)
978-1-4553-7108-2 (ISBN)

Infos

Long stories/novellas including: The Beach at Falsea, The Bottle Imp, and The Isle of Voices According to Wikipedia: 'Robert Louis (Balfour) Stevenson ( 1850 - 1894), was a Scottish novelist, poet, and travel writer, and a leading representative of Neo-romanticism in English literature. He was the man who 'seemed to pick the right word up on the point of his pen, like a man playing spillikins', as G. K. Chesterton put it. He was also greatly admired by many authors, including Jorge Luis Borges, Ernest Hemingway, Rudyard Kipling, Vladimir Nabokov, and J. M. Barrie. Most modernist writers dismissed him, however, because he was popular and did not write within their definition of modernism. It is only recently that critics have begun to look beyond Stevenson's popularity and allow him a place in the canon.'

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Long stories/novellas including: The Beach at Falsea, The Bottle Imp, and The Isle of Voices According to Wikipedia: "e;Robert Louis (Balfour) Stevenson ( 1850 - 1894), was a Scottish novelist, poet, and travel writer, and a leading representative of Neo-romanticism in English literature. He was the man who "e;seemed to pick the right word up on the point of his pen, like a man playing spillikins"e;, as G. K. Chesterton put it. He was also greatly admired by many authors, including Jorge Luis Borges, Ernest Hemingway, Rudyard Kipling, Vladimir Nabokov, and J. M. Barrie. Most modernist writers dismissed him, however, because he was popular and did not write within their definition of modernism. It is only recently that critics have begun to look beyond Stevenson's popularity and allow him a place in the canon."e;

Textauszug

CHAPTER I. A SOUTH SEA BRIDAL.

 

 

I SAW that island first when it was neither night nor morning.  The  moon was to the west, setting, but still broad and bright.  To the  east, and right amidships of the dawn, which was all pink, the  daystar sparkled like a diamond.  The land breeze blew in our  faces, and smelt strong of wild lime and vanilla: other things  besides, but these were the most plain; and the chill of it set me  sneezing.  I should say I had been for years on a low island near  the line, living for the most part solitary among natives.  Here  was a fresh experience: even the tongue would be quite strange to  me; and the look of these woods and mountains, and the rare smell  of them, renewed my blood.

 

The captain blew out the binnacle lamp.

 

"There!" said he, "there goes a bit of smoke, Mr. Wiltshire, behind  the break of the reef.  That's Falesa, where your station is, the  last village to the east; nobody lives to windward - I don't know  why.  Take my glass, and you can make the houses out."

 

I took the glass; and the shores leaped nearer, and I saw the  tangle of the woods and the breach of the surf, and the brown roofs  and the black insides of houses peeped among the trees.

 

"Do you catch a bit of white there to the east'ard?" the captain  continued.  "That's your house.  Coral built, stands high, verandah  you could walk on three abreast; best station in the South Pacific.   When old Adams saw it, he took and shook me by the hand.  'I've  dropped into a soft thing here,' says he. - 'So you have,' says I,  'and time too!'  Poor Johnny!  I never saw him again but the once,  and then he had changed his tune - couldn't get on with the  natives, or the whites, or something; and the next time we came  round there he was dead and buried.  I took and put up a bit of a  stick to him: 'John Adams, OBIT eighteen and sixty-eight.  Go thou  and do likewise.'  I missed that man.  I never could see much harm  in Johnny."

 

"What did he die of?" I inquired.

 

"Some kind of sickness," says the captain.  "It appears it took him  sudden.  Seems he got up in the night, and filled up on Pain-Killer  and Kennedy's Discovery.  No go: he was booked beyond Kennedy.   Then he had tried to open a case of gin.  No go again: not strong  enough.  Then he must have turned to and run out on the verandah,  and capsized over the rail.  When they found him, the next day, he  was clean crazy - carried on all the time about somebody watering  his copra.  Poor John!"

 

"Was it thought to be the island?" I asked.

 

"Well, it was thought to be the island, or the trouble, or  something," he replied.  "I never could hear but what it was a  healthy place.  Our last man, Vigours, never turned a hair.  He  left because of the beach - said he was afraid of Black Jack and  Case and Whistling Jimmie, who was still alive at the time, but got  drowned soon afterward when drunk.  As for old Captain Randall,  he's been here any time since eighteen-forty, forty-five.  I never  could see much harm in Billy, nor much change.  Seems as if he  might live to be Old Kafoozleum.  No, I guess it's healthy."

 

"There's a boat coming now," said I.  "She's right in the pass;  looks to be a sixteen-foot whale; two white men in the stern  sheets."

 

"That's the boat that drowned Whistling Jimmie!" cried the Captain;  "let's see the glass.  Yes, that's Case, sure enough, and the  darkie.  They've got a gallows bad reputation, but you know what a  place the beach is for talking.  My belief, that Whistling Jimmie  was the worst of the trouble; and he's gone to glory, you see.   What'll you bet they ain't after gin?  Lay you five to two they  take six cases."

 

When these two traders came aboard I was pleased with the looks of  them at once, or, rather, with the looks of both, and the speech of  one.  I was sick for white neighbours after my four years at the  line, which I always counted years of prison; getting tabooed, and  going down to the Speak House to see and get it taken off; buying  gin and going on a break, and then repenting; sitting in the house  at night with the lamp for company; or walking on the beach and  wondering what kind of a fool to call myself for being where I was.   There were no other whites upon my island, and when I sailed to the  next, rough customers made the most of the society.  Now to see  these two when they came aboard was a pleasure.  One was a negro,  to be sure; but they were both rigged out smart in striped pyjamas  and straw hats, and Case would have passed muster in a city.  He  was yellow and smallish, had a hawk's nose to his face, pale eyes,  and his beard trimmed with scissors.  No man knew his country,  beyond he was of English speech; and it was clear he came of a good  family and was splendidly educated.  He was accomplished too;  played the accordion first-rate; and give him a piece of string or  a cork or a pack of cards, and he could show you tricks equal to  any professional.  He could speak, when he chose, fit for a  drawing-room; and when he chose he could blaspheme worse than a  Yankee boatswain, and talk smart to sicken a Kanaka.  The way he  thought would pay best at the moment, that was Case's way, and it  always seemed to come natural, and like as if he was born to it.   He had the courage of a lion and the cunning of a rat; and if he's  not in hell to-day, there's no such place.  I know but one good  point to the man: that he was fond of his wife, and kind to her.   She was a Samoa woman, and dyed her hair red, Samoa style; and when  he came to die (as I have to tell of) they found one strange thing  - that he had made a will, like a Christian, and the widow got the  lot: all his, they said, and all Black Jack's, and the most of  Billy Randall's in the bargain, for it was Case that kept the  books.  So she went off home in the schooner MANU'A, and does the  lady to this day in her own place.

 

But of all this on that first morning I knew no more than a fly.   Case used me like a gentleman and like a friend, made me welcome to  Falesa, and put his services at my disposal, which was the more  helpful from my ignorance of the native.  All the better part of  the day we sat drinking better acquaintance in the cabin, and I  never heard a man talk more to the point.  There was no smarter  trader, and none dodgier, in the islands.  I thought Falesa seemed  to be the right kind of a place; and the more I drank the lighter  my heart.  Our last trader had fled the place at half an hour's  notice, taking a chance passage in a labour ship from up west.  The  captain, when he came, had found the station closed, the keys left  with the native pastor, and a letter from the runaway, confessing  he was fairly frightened of his life.  Since then the firm had not  been represented, and of course there was no cargo.  The wind,  besides, was fair, the captain hoped he could make his next island  by dawn, with a good tide, and the business of landing my trade was  gone about lively.  There was no call for me to fool with it, Case  said; nobody would touch my things, everyone was honest in Falesa,  only about chickens or an odd knife or an odd stick of tobacco; and  the best I could do was to sit quiet till the vessel left, then  come straight to his house, see old Captain Randall, the father of  the beach, take pot-luck, and go home to sleep when it got dark.   So it was high noon, and the schooner was under way before I set my  foot on shore at Falesa.

 

I had a glass or two on board; I was just off a long cruise, and  the ground heaved under me like a ship's deck.  The world was like  all new painted; my foot went along to music; Falesa might have  been Fiddler's Green, if there is such a place, and more's the pity  if there isn't!  It was good to foot the grass, to look aloft at  the green mountains, to see the men with their green wreaths and  the women in their bright dresses, red and blue.  On we went, in  the strong sun and the cool shadow, liking both; and all the  children in the town came trotting after with their shaven heads  and their brown bodies, and raising a thin kind of a cheer in our  wake, like crowing poultry.

 

"By-the-bye," says Case, "we must get you a wife."

 

"That's so," said I; "I had forgotten."

 

There was a crowd of girls about us, and I pulled myself up and  looked among them like a Bashaw.  They were all dressed out for the  sake of the ship being in; and the women of Falesa are a handsome  lot to see.  If they have a fault, they are a trifle broad in...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 1.3.2018
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Anthologien
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Klassiker / Moderne Klassiker
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 1-4553-7108-4 / 1455371084
• ISBN-13: 978-1-4553-7108-2 / 9781455371082