The Complete Works of Herman Melville: Novels, Short Stories, Poems & Essays. Herman Melville

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СКАЧАТЬ its close, with one sad exception, he still remained sunny-sided all round; his disc of a face joyous as the South Side of Madeira in the hilarious season of grapes? Shall we tell how we all grew glad and frank; and how the din of the dinner was heard far into night?

      We will.

      When Media ate slowly, Borabolla took him to task, bidding him dispatch his viands more speedily.

      Whereupon said Media “But Borabolla, my round fellow, that would abridge the pleasure.”

      “Not at all, my dear demi-god; do like me: eat fast and eat long.”

      In the middle of the feast, a huge skin of wine was brought in. The portly peltry of a goat; its horns embattling its effigy head; its mouth the nozzle; and its long beard flowed to its jet-black hoofs. With many ceremonial salams, the attendants bore it along, placing it at one end of the convivial mats, full in front of Borabolla; where seated upon its haunches it made one of the party.

      Brimming a ram’s horn, the mellowest of bugles, Borabolla bowed to his silent guest, and thus spoke —“In this wine, which yet smells of the grape, I pledge you my reverend old toper, my lord Capricornus; you alone have enough; and here’s full skins to the rest!”

      “How jolly he is,” whispered Media to Babbalanja.

      “Ay, his lungs laugh loud; but is laughing, rejoicing?”

      “Help! help!” cried Borabolla “lay me down! lay me down! good gods, what a twinge!”

      The goblet fell from his hand; the purple flew from his wine to his face; and Borabolla fell back into the arms of his servitors. “That gout! that gout!” he groaned. “Lord! lord! no more cursed wine will I drink!”

      Then at ten paces distant, a clumsy attendant let fall a trencher — “Take it off my foot, you knave!”

      Afar off another entered gallanting a calabash —“Look out for my toe, you hound!”

      During all this, the attendants tenderly nursed him. And in good time, with its thousand fangs, the gout-fiend departed for a while.

      Reprieved, the old king brightened up; by degrees becoming jolly as ever.

      “Come! let us be merry again,” he cried, “what shall we eat? and what shall we drink? that infernal gout is gone; come, what will your worships have?”

      So at it once more we went.

      But of our feast, little more remains to be related than this; — that out of it, grew a wondrous kindness between Borabolla and Jarl. Strange to tell, from the first our fat host had regarded my Viking with a most friendly eye. Still stranger to add, this feeling was returned. But though they thus fancied each other, they were very unlike; Borabolla and Jarl. Nevertheless, thus is it ever. And as the convex fits not into the convex, but into the concave; so do men fit into their opposites; and so fitted Borabolla’s arched paunch into Jarl’s, hollowed out to receive it.

      But how now? Borabolla was jolly and loud: Jarl demure and silent; Borabolla a king: Jarl only a Viking; — how came they together? Very plain, to repeat:— because they were heterogeneous; and hence the affinity. But as the affinity between those chemical opposites chlorine and hydrogen, is promoted by caloric; so the affinity between Borabolla and Jarl was promoted by the warmth of the wine that they drank at this feast. For of all blessed fluids, the juice of the grape is the greatest foe to cohesion. True, it tightens the girdle; but then it loosens the tongue, and opens the heart.

      In sum, Borabolla loved Jarl; and Jarl, pleased with this sociable monarch, for all his garrulity, esteemed him the most sensible old gentleman and king he had as yet seen in Mardi. For this reason, perhaps; that his talkativeness favored that silence in listeners, which was my Viking’s delight in himself.

      Repeatedly during the banquet, our host besought Taji to allow his henchman to remain on the island, after the rest of our party should depart; and he faithfully promised to surrender Jarl, whenever we should return to claim him.

      But though I harbored no distrust of Borabolla’s friendly intentions, I could not so readily consent to his request; for with Jarl for my one only companion, had I not both famished and feasted? was he not my only link to things past?

      Things past! — Ah Yillah! for all its mirth, and though we hunted wide, we found thee not in Mondoldo.

CHAPTER 96

      SAMOA A SURGEON

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      The second day of our stay in Mondoldo was signalized by a noteworthy exhibition of the surgical skill of Samoa; who had often boasted, that though well versed in the science of breaking men’s heads, he was equally an adept in mending their crockery.

      Overnight, Borabolla had directed his corps of sea-divers to repair early on the morrow, to a noted section of the great Mardian reef, for the purpose of procuring for our regalement some of the fine Hawk’s-bill turtle, whose secret retreats were among the cells and galleries of that submerged wall of coral, from whose foamy coping no plummet dropped ever yet touched bottom.

      These turtles were only to be obtained by diving far down under the surface; and then swimming along horizontally, and peering into the coral honeycomb; snatching at a flipper when seen, as at a pinion in a range of billing dove-cotes.

      As the king’s divers were thus employed, one of them, Karhownoo by name, perceived a Devil-shark, so called, swimming wistfully toward him from out his summer grotto in the reef. No way petrified by the sight, and pursuing the usual method adopted by these divers in such emergencies, Karhownoo, splashing the water, instantly swam toward the stranger. But the shark, undaunted, advanced: a thing so unusual, and fearful, that, in an agony of fright, the diver shot up for the surface. Heedless, he looked not up as he went; and when within a few inches of the open air, dashed his head against a projection of the reef. He would have sank into the live tomb beneath, were it not that three of his companions, standing on the brink, perceived his peril, and dragged him into safety.

      Seeing the poor fellow was insensible, they endeavored, ineffectually, to revive him; and at last, placing him in their canoe, made all haste for the shore. Here a crowd soon gathered, and the diver was borne to a habitation, close adjoining Borabolla’s; whence, hearing of the disaster, we sallied out to render assistance.

      Upon entering the hut, the benevolent old king commanded it to be cleared; and then proceeded to examine the sufferer.

      The skull proved to be very badly fractured; in one place, splintered.

      “Let me mend it,” said Samoa, with ardor.

      And being told of his experience in such matters, Borabolla surrendered the patient.

      With a gourd of water, and a tappa cloth, the one-armed Upoluan carefully washed the wound; and then calling for a sharp splinter of bamboo, and a thin, semi-transparent cup of cocoa-nut shell, he went about the operation: nothing less than the “Tomoti” (head-mending), in other words the trepan.

      The patient still continuing insensible, the fragments were disengaged by help of a bamboo scalpel; when a piece of the drinking cup — previously dipped in the milk of a cocoanut — was nicely fitted into the vacancy, the skin as nicely adjusted over it, and the operation was complete.

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