Publisher's Synopsis
He was a very sick white man. He rode pick-a-back on a woolly-headed, blackskinned savage, the lobes of whose ears had been pierced and stretched until onehad torn out, while the other carried a circular block of carved wood three inchesin diameter. The torn ear had been pierced again, but this time not so ambitiously, for the hole accommodated no more than a short clay pipe. The man-horse wasgreasy and dirty, and naked save for an exceedingly narrow and dirty loin-cloth; butthe white man clung to him closely and desperately. At times, from weakness, hishead drooped and rested on the woolly pate. At other times he lifted his head andstared with swimming eyes at the cocoanut palms that reeled and swung in theshimmering heat. He was clad in a thin undershirt and a strip of cotton cloth, thatwrapped about his waist and descended to his knees. On his head was a batteredStetson, known to the trade as a Baden-Powell. About his middle was strapped abelt, which carried a large-calibred automatic pistol and several spare clips, loadedand ready for quick work.The rear was brought up by a black boy of fourteen or fifteen, who carried medicinebottles, a pail of hot water, and various other hospital appurtenances. They passedout of the compound through a small wicker gate, and went on under the blazingsun, winding about among new-planted cocoanuts that threw no shade. There wasnot a breath of wind, and the superheated, stagnant air was heavy with pestilence.From the direction they were going arose a wild clamour, as of lost souls wailingand of men in torment. A long, low shed showed ahead, grass-walled and grassthatched, and it was from here that the noise proceeded. There were shrieks andscreams, some unmistakably of grief, others unmistakably of unendurable pain. Asthe white man drew closer he could hear a low and continuous moaning andgroaning. He shuddered at the thought of entering, and for a moment was quitecertain that he was going to faint. For that most dreaded of Solomon Islandscourges, dysentery, had struck Berande plantation, and he was all alone to copewith it. Also, he was afflicted himself.By stooping close, still on man-back, he managed to pass through the low doorway.He took a small bottle from his follower, and sniffed strong ammonia to clear hissenses for the ordeal. Then he shouted, "Shut up!" and the clamour stilled. A raisedplatform of forest slabs, six feet wide, with a slight pitch, extended the full length ofthe shed. Alongside of it was a yard-wide run-way. Stretched on the platform, sideby side and crowded close, lay a score of blacks. That they were low in the order ofhuman life was apparent at a glance