Stories by R. A. Lafferty Vol 2 Part 9

CLIFFS THAT LAUGHED.

"Between ten and ten-thirty of the morning of October 1, 1945, on an island that is sometimes called Pulau Petir and sometimes w.i.l.l.y Jones Island (neither of them its map name), three American soldiers disappeared and have not been seen since.

"I'm going back there, I tell you! It was worth it. The limbs that laughed! Let them kill me! I'll get there! Oh, here, here, I've got to get hold of myself.

"The three soldiers were Sergeant Charles Santee of Orange, Texas; Corporal Robert Casper of Gobey, Tennessee; and PFC Timothy Lorrigan of Boston which is in one of the eastern states. I was one of those three soldiers.

"I'm going back there if it takes me another twenty years!"

No, no, no! That's the wrong story. It happened on w.i.l.l.y Jones Island also, but it's a different account entirely. That's the one the fellow told me in a bar years later, just the other night, after the usual "Didn't I used to know you in the islands?"

"One often makes these little mistakes and false starts," Galli said. "It is a trick that is used in the trade. One exasperates people and pretends to be embarra.s.sed. And then one hooks them."

Galli was an hereditary storyteller of the Indies. "There is only one story in the world," he said, "and it pulls two ways. There is the reason part that says 'h.e.l.l, it can't be' and there is the wonder part that says 'h.e.l.l, maybe it is.'" He was the storyteller, and he offered to teach me the art.

For we ourselves had a hook into Galli. We had something he wanted.

"We used the same stories for a thousand years," he said. "Now, however, we have a new source, the American Comic Books. My grandfather began to use these in another place and time, and I use them now. I steal them from your orderly tents, and I have a box full of them. I have s.p.a.ce Comics and Commander Midnight; I have Galactic Gob and Mighty Mouse and the Green Hornet and the Masked Jetter. My grandfather also had copies of some of these, but drawn by older hands. But I do not have Wonder Woman, not a single copy. I would trade three-for-one for copies of her. I would pay a premium. I can link her in with an island legend to create a whole new cycle of stories, and I need new stuff all the time. Have you a Wonder Woman?"

When Galli said this, I knew that I had him. I didn't have a Wonder Woman, but I knew where I could steal one. I believe, though I am no longer sure, that it was Wonder Woman Meets the s.p.a.ce Magicians.

I stole it for him. And in grat.i.tude Galli not only taught me thestoryteller's art, but he also told me the following story: "Imagine about flute notes ascending," said Galli. "I haven't my flute with me, but a story should begin so to set the mood. Imagine about ships coming out of the Arabian Ocean, and finally to Jilolo Island, and still more finally to the very island on which we now stand. Imagine about waves and trees that were the great-great-grandfathers of the waves and trees we now have."

It was about the year 1620, Galli is telling it, in the late afternoon of the high piracy. These Moluccas had already been the rich Spice Islands for three hundred years. Moreover, they were on the road of the Manila galleons coming from Mexico and the Isthmus. Arabian, Hindu, and Chinese piracy had decayed shamefully. The English were crude at the business. In trade the Dutch had become dominant in the Islands and the Portuguese had faded. There was no limit to the opportunities for a courageous and dedicated raider in the Indies.

They came. And not the least of these new raiding men was w.i.l.l.y Jones.

It was said that w.i.l.l.y Jones was a Welshman. You can believe it or not as you like. The same thing has been said about the Devil. w.i.l.l.y was twenty-five years old when he finally possessed his own ship with a mixed crew. The ship was built like a humpbacked bird, with a lateen sail and suddenly-appearing rows of winglike oars. On its prow was a swooping bird that had been carved in Muskat. It was named the Flying Serpent, or the Feathered Snake, depending on what language you use.

'Pause a moment,' said Galli. 'Set the mood. Imagine about dead men variously. We come to the b.l.o.o.d.y stuff at once.'

One early morning, the Feathered Snake overtook a tall Dutchman. The ships were grappled together, and the men from the Snake boarded the Dutch ship. The men on the Dutchman were armed, but they had never seen such suddenness and savagery as shown by the dark men from the Snake. There was slippery blood on the decks, and the croaking of men being killed.

'I forgot to tell you that this was in the pa.s.sage between the Molucca Sea and the Banda,' Galli said.

The Snake took a rich small cargo from the Dutch ship, a few ablebodied Malay seamen, some gold specie, some papers of record, and a dark Dutch girl named Margaret. These latter things w.i.l.l.y Jones preempted for himself. Then the Snake devoured that tall Dutchman and left only a few of its burning bones floating in the ocean.

'I forgot to tell you that the tall Dutch ship was named the Luchtkastell,' Galli said.

w.i.l.l.y Jones watched the Luchtkastell disappearing under the water.

He examined the papers of record, and the dark Dutch girl Margaret. He made a sudden decision: He would cash his winnings and lay up for a season.

He had learned about an island in the papers of record. It was a rich island, belonging to the richest of the Dutch spice men who had gone to the bottom with the Luchtkastell. The fighting crew would help w.i.l.l.y Jones secure the island for himself; and in exchange, he would give them his ship and the whole raiding territory and the routes he had worked out.

w.i.l.l.y Jones captured the island and ruled it. From the ship he kept only the gold, the dark Dutch girl Margaret, and three golems which had once been ransom from a Jew in Oman.

'I forgot to tell you that Margaret was the daughter of the Dutch spice man who had owned the island and the tall ship and who was killed by w.i.l.l.y,' Galli said, 'and the island really belonged to Margaret now as the daughter of her father.'

For one year w.i.l.l.y Jones ruled the small settlement, drove the three golems and the men who already lived there, had the spices gathered andbaled and stored (they were worth their weight in silver), and built the Big House. And for one year he courted the dark Dutch girl Margaret, having been unable to board her as he had all other girls.

She refused him because he had killed her father, because he had destroyed the Luchtkastell which was Family and Nation to her, and because he had stolen her island.

This Margaret, though she was pretty and trim as a kuching, had during the affair of the Feathered Snake and the Luchtkastell twirled three seamen in the air like pinwheels at one time and thrown them all into the ocean. She had eyes that twinkled like the compounded eyes of the devil-fly; they could glint laughter and fury at the same time.

"Those girls were like volcanoes," the man said. "Slim, strong mountains, and we climbed them like mountains. Man, the uplift on them! The shoulders were cliffs that laughed. The swaying~"

No, no! Belay that last paragraph! That's from the ramble of the fellow in the bar, and it keeps intruding.

'I forgot to tell you that she reminds me of Wonder Woman,' Galli said.

w.i.l.l.y Jones believed that Margaret was worth winning unbroken, as he was not at all sure that he could break her. He courted her as well as he could, and he used to advantage the background of the golden-green spicery on which they lived.

'Imagine about the Permata bird that nests on the moon,' Galli said, 'and which is the most pa.s.sionate as well as the n.o.blest-singing of the birds. Imagine about flute notes soaring.'

w.i.l.l.y Jones made this tune to Margaret: The Nutmeg Moon is the third moon of the year.

The Tides come in like loose Silk all its Nights.

The Ground is animated by the bare Feet of Margaret Who is like the Pelepah of the Ko-eng Flower.

w.i.l.l.y made this tune in the Malaya language in which all the words end in ang.

'Imagine about water leaping down rocky hills,' Galli said. 'Imagine about red birds romping in green groves.'

w.i.l.l.y Jones made another tune to Margaret: A Woman with Shoulders so strong that a Man might ride upon them The while she is still the little Girl watching for the black Ship Of the Hero who is the same age as the Sky, But she does not realize that I am already here.

w.i.l.l.y made this tune in the Dutch language in which all the words end in lijk.

'Imagine about another flute joining the first one, and their notes scamper like birds,' Galli said.

w.i.l.l.y Jones made a last tune to Margaret: d.a.m.nation! That is enough of Moonlight and Tomorrows Now there are mats to plait, and kain to sew.

Even the smallest crab knows to build herself a house in the sand.

Margaret should be raking the oven coals and baking a roti.

I wonder why she is so slow in seeing this.

w.i.l.l.y made this tune in the Welsh language in which all the words end in gwbl.When the one year was finished, they were mated. There was still the chilliness there as though she would never forgive him for killing her father and stealing her island; but they began to be in accord.

'Here pause five minutes to indicate an idyllic interlude,' Galli said. 'We sing the song Bagang Kal Berjumpa if you know the tune. We flute, if I have my flute.'

The idyllic interlude pa.s.sed.

Then w.i.l.l.y's old ship, the Feathered Snake, came back to the Island.

She was in a pitiful state of misuse. She reeked of old and new blood, and there were none left on her but nine sick men. These nine men begged w.i.l.l.y Jones to become their captain again to set everything right.

w.i.l.l.y washed the nine living skeletons and fed them up for three days. They were fat and able by then. And the three golems had refitted the ship.

"All she needs is a stong hand at the helm again," said w.i.l.l.y Jones.

"I will sail her again for a week and a day. I will impress a new crew, and once more make her the terror of the Spice Islands. Then I will return to my island, knowing that I have done a good deed in restoring the Snake to the b.l.o.o.d.y work for which she was born."

"If you go, w.i.l.l.y Jones, you will be gone for many years," said the dark Dutch Margaret.

"Only one at the most," said w.i.l.l.y.

"And I will be in my grave when you return."

"There is no grave could hold you, Margaret."

"Aye, it may not hold me. I'll out of it and confront you when you come back. But it gives one a weirdness to be in the grave for only a few years. I will not own you for my husband when you do come back. You will not even know whether I am the same woman that you left, and you will never know. I am a volcano, but I banked my hatred and accepted you. But if you leave me now, I will erupt against you forever."

But w.i.l.l.y Jones went away in the Flying Serpent and left her there.

He took two of the golems with him, and he left one of them to serve Margaret.

What with one thing and another, he was gone for twenty years.

"We were off that morning to satisfy our curiosity about the Big House," the fellow said, "since we would soon be leaving the island forever.

You know about the Big House. You were on w.i.l.l.y Jones Island too. The Jilolos call it the House of Skulls, and the Malaya and Indonesia people will not speak about it at all.

"We approached the Big House that was not more than a mile beyond our perimeter. It was a large decayed building, but we had the sudden feeling that it was still inhabited. And it wasn't supposed to be. Then we saw the two of them, the mother and the daughter. We shook like we were unhinged, and we ran to them.

"They were so alike that we couldn't tell them apart. Their eyes twinkled like the compounded eyes of a creature that eats her mate. Noonday lightning! How it struck! Arms that swept you off your feet and set your bones to singing! We knew that they were not twins, or even sisters. We knew that they were mother and daughter.

"I have never encountered anything like them in my life. Whatever happened to the other two soldiers, I know it was worth it to them. Whatever happened to them? I don't care if they kill me! They were perfect, those two women, even though we weren't with them for five minutes."

"Then it was the Badger."

No, no, no! That's the wrong story again. That's not the story Galli told me. That's part of the story the fellow told me in the bar. His confused account keeps interposing itself possibly because I knew him slightly when we were both soldiers on w.i.l.l.y Jones Island. But he had turnedqueer, that fellow. "It is the earthquake belt around the world that is the same as the legend belt," he said, "and the Middle world underlies it all.

That's why I was able to walk it.,, It was as though he had been keel-hauled around the world. I hadn't known him well. I didn't know which of the three soldiers he was. I had heard that they were all dead. "Imagine about conspiracy stuff now," sald Galli. "Imagine about a whispering in a pinang grove before the sun is up."

"How can I spook that man?" Margaret asked her golem shortly after she had been abandoned by w.i.l.l.y Jones. "But I am afraid that a mechanical man would not be able to tell me how."

"I will tell you a secret," said the golem. "We are not mechanical men. Certain wise and secret men believe that they made us, but they are wrong. They have made houses for us to live in, no more. There are many of us unhoused spirits, and we take shelter in such bodies as we find. That being so, I know something of the houseless spirits in the depth of every man. I will select one of them, and we will spook w.i.l.l.y Jones with that one.

w.i.l.l.y is a Welshman who has become by adoption a Dutchman and a Malayan and a Jilolo man. There is one old spook running through them all. I will call it up when it is time."

"I forgot to tell you that the name of Margaret's golem was Meshuarat,"

Galli said.

After twenty years of high piracy, w.i.l.l.y Jones returned to his Island. And there was the dark Dutch Margaret standing as young and as smouldering as when he had left. He leapt to embrace her, and found himself stretched flat on the sand by a thunderous blow.

He was not surprised, and was not (as he had at first believed) decapitated. Almost he was not displeased. Margaret had often been violent in her love-making.

"But I will have you," w.i.l.l.y swore as he tasted his own blood delightfully in his mouth and pulled himself up onto hands and knees. "I have ridden the Margaret-tiger before."

"You will never ride my loins, you lecherous old goat," she rang at him like a bell. "I am not your wife. I am the daughter that you left here in the womb. My mother is in the grave on the hill."

w.i.l.l.y Jones sorrowed terribly, and he went to the grave.

But Margaret came up behind him and drove in the cruel lance. "I told you that when you came back you would not know whether I was the same woman you had left," she chortled, "and you will never know!"

"Margaret, you are my wife!" w.i.l.l.y Jones gasped.

"Am I of an age to be your wife?" she jibed. "Regard me! Of what age do I seem to be?"

"Of the same age as when I left," said w.i.l.l.y. "But perhaps you have eaten of the besok nut and so do not change your appearance.

"I forgot to tell you about the besok nut,' said Galli. 'If one eats the nut of the besok tree, the tomorrow tree, the time tree, that one will not age. But this is always accompanied by a chilling unhappiness."

"Perhaps I did eat it," said Margaret. "But that is my grave there, and I have lain in it many years, as has she. You are prohibited from touching either of us."

"Are you the mother or the daughter, Witch?"

"You will never know. You will see us both, for we take turns, and you will not be able to tell us apart. See, the grave is always disturbed, and the entrance is easy.

"I'll have the truth from the golem who served you while I was gone," w.i.l.l.y swore.

"'A golem is an artificial man,' said Galli. 'They were made by theJews and Arabs in earlier ages, but now they say that they have forgotten how to make them. I wonder that you do not make them yourselves, for you have advanced techniques. You tell them and you picture them in your own heroic literature' (he patted the comic books under his arm), 'but you do not have them in actuality."

The golem told w.i.l.l.y Jones that the affair was thus: A daughter had indeed been born to Margaret. She had slain the child, and had then put it into the middle state. Thereafter, the child stayed sometimes in the grave, and sometimes she walked about the island.

And she grew as any other child would. And Margaret herself had eaten the besok nut so that she would not age.

When mother and daughter had come to the same age and appearance (and it had only been the very day before that, the day before w.i.l.l.y Jones had returned), then the daughter had also eaten the besok nut. Now the mother and daughter would be of the same appearance forever, and not even a golem could tell them apart.

w.i.l.l.y Jones came furiously onto the woman again.

"I was sure before, and now I am even more sure that you are Margaret," he said, "and now I will have you in my fury."

"We both be Margaret," she said. "But I am not the same one you apprehended earlier. We changed places while you talked to the golem. And we are both in the middle state, and we have both been dead in the grave, and you dare not touch either of us ever. A Welshman turned Dutchman turned Malayan turned Jilolo has this spook in him four times over. The Devil himself will not touch his own daughters."

The last part was a lie, but w.i.l.l.y Jones did not know it.

"We be in confrontation forever then," said w.i.l.l.y Jones. "I will make my Big House a house of hate and a house of skulls. You cannot escape from its environs, neither can any visitor. I'll kill them all and pile their skulls up high for a monument to you."

Then w.i.l.l.y Jones ate a piece of bitter bark from the pokok ru.

'I forgot to tell you that when a person eats bark from the pokok ru in anger, his anger will sustain itself forever,' Galli said.