The Fetish of Remorse by Achmed Abdullah

  Short Stories. April, 1916

  The Fetish of Remorse

  by Achmed Abdullah

  A tense and breathless story of the ruthless power of gold, staged in the reeking tonkin jungle where death lurked behind every tree—a story with a surprise—and one that will leave you guessing as to the real source of a bob-tailed heart flush.

  NATOLE GAUTIER lost all idea of

  to Saigon, from the interior of French Indo-

  time and place. Twenty years of life

  China, their guides, bearers and interpreter A were wiped clean from the slate of his had deserted them more than four days ago, memory. Once more he was in Tonkin. Once

  here in the jungle, they had not taken it very more he was young and very enthusiastic.

  much to heart. They were young and strong;

  Once more he faced Durand, good old they were fairly familiar with jungle-craft.

  Durand, the friend of his youth.

  They would make the Coast somehow. And

  The moon, a bloated thing of copper

  then—just three minutes’ talk with the agent swinging among the trees, threw down a of the Australian syndicate. They would pass single broad ray of orange which fell on over what they had brought from the interior, Durand’s face. Gautier recognized the familiar and in return they would receive a check of six features, the round face, the black, silken figures. Even split in two, it would mean a beard, the crooked sabre cut across the comfortable income for life; more than that: it forehead which he had received at fencing

  would mean riches and the chance to multiply school when the leather tip had slipped from them.

  the blade.

  Then, a few hours ago, the Tonkinese

  They were both deep in thought. had come from nowhere, out of the jungle, Something had to be done. The Tonkinese had

  hundreds of them. Tonkinese rebels they were, given them until daylight to decide. Two more and they called themselves les poings du hours! A low wind stirred the dead leaves at patriotisme et de la paix—the fists of their feet, a wind as hot as a breath of flame.

  patriotism and peace—a gentle touch of

  Somewhere in the distance a jackal

  Mongol humor which did not appeal to either

  howled.

  Gautier or Durand.

  They were both afraid. Of course. But

  Suddenly the two Frenchmen had

  there was something else, a nameless, understood why the guides and the interpreter brooding, sinister feeling which crept through had deserted them. It was evident that they

  their souls. A harshly discordant note was

  had been watched every step of the way; that pealing through the recesses of their beings.

  even at the Coast, in the very office of the And so they looked into the spectre-Australian agent, there had been spies in the pregnant, Stygian darkness, and listened to the pay of the Peacock Banner.

  night-sounds of soft-winged things which

  They were two against a small army.

  flopped lazily overhead, and of slimy, There would be no arguing, no bargaining swishing things which glided and crawled whatsoever. These yellow devils had the underfoot. Both were afraid to speak.

  whip-hand.

  When on their way back to the Coast,

  The leader of the Tonkinese, a tall,

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  courtly, well-bred man, had left them two

  “With your permission.” He had

  hours ago. Durand, who had a smattering of

  squatted easily on his heels, and had lit a

  the local dialect, had given greetings in it; cigarette, first courteously offering his case to florid, flattering greetings. The Tonkinese had the two. Then he had continued. “I and my

  bowed to the ground and had replied in the

  young men have again stepped on the path of

  same language.

  strife. We have performed the proper

  “By applying oil or flattery most ceremonies before the many shrines. We have things are softened. But these three never laid naked blades on our shaven heads, thus soften: a sword, a leather receptacle for symbolizing our voluntary renunciation of this clarified butter, and a Tonkinese.”

  life’s vanities. We have offered rice and drink Then he had continued in French, to the shades of the departed heroes who died perfectly correct French, though with the for our land in the ancient days. We have peculiar stiff wording and the gentle sing-song consecrated our souls and our bodies to our

  of the Mongolian.

  people.” Again he had smiled, a boyish,

  “Do not break your tongue over our

  impish smile. “But it appears that prayers and barbaric patois, my friend. I speak French. I the laying of blades on shaven heads do not

  have lived in your country. I have studied in purchase the rifles and ammunition the French Paris. I have learned there that dealings with are using.

  Christians are uncertain. Either three times the Yet there is a shipment of such

  principal is obtained—or nothing at all. Thus weapons waiting for me somewhere”—he had

  shall I make sure to obtain from you three

  made a vague, circular gesture—“but the

  times the principal.”

  payment demanded for these so necessary

  There had been nothing intimidating in

  weapons is exorbitant. Also the foreigner who his voice. His accents had been rich and has the weapons demands gold. A cursed gentle; with a bronze tone to them like the

  swine he, who will be born again in the bodies echoed murmurings of an ancient temple of noisome, crawling insects for many lives to gong.

  come. But gold he demands, and gold he shall

  “Look,” he had continued, and his face

  get. It is an easy matter. You may consider it had been as stony and as passionless as that of as done.”

  the Buddha who meditates in the shade of the He, Gautier, had then regained part of

  cobra’s hood. “I am an open book before you, his wits.

  and I bid you read. I am Vasanda.”

  He had spoken with a suspicion of

  He had paused. They had shuddered at

  arrogance.

  the name; and the Tonkinese had smiled

  “What have we got to do with it all,

  gently, very gently.

  Vassanda?”

  “Yes. I am Vasanda. I am the man who

  “Everything, my master, everything.

  makes war on you French; according to the Because, look you: you will supply the gold.

  way we make war. ”

  You do not believe me? Behold. I will show

  Again he had smiled; and again the

  you.”

  two Frenchmen had shuddered. For they had

  He had lit another cigarette, swaying

  heard at the Coast about the way Vasanda, the gently from side to side, to ease the strain on Tonkinese outlaw—“patriot” he styled his heels.

  himself—made war.

  He had proceeded to explain that he

  The Tonkinese had bowed to the two

  knew all about their little expedition. How

  Frenchmen.

  they had visited the court of Bah-ngoh, the

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  3

  great king of the interior, who, short of cash Also is it known who bought it. The

  because of his latest fantastic harem Australian agent waits for it now, there, at the extravagancies, had been forced to part with Coast.” He had pointed to the East, into the his fame
d one hundred-carat pink diamond

  silent, brooding jungle. “He is waiting; and he

  “The Star of the Middle Kingdom”; how even

  is waiting to pay—five million francs. He will before leaving the Coast they had made pay it to the one of you two who brings the arrangements with the Australian agent to sell stone. Such was your agreement. For, careful the stone to him for five million francs—ten men, you considered the possibility of one of times the sum which they’d pay for the stone; you dying of fever. An unhealthy land this!”

  how they had completed their transaction in

  He had smiled. “And so it will be. One of you the interior and were now returning to the

  will go to the Coast with the stone. He will go Coast with the stone.

  unharmed, peaceful. I myself shall show him

  Gautier had looked wild-eyed. He had

  the right way. He will give the stone to the stammered.

  Australian and receive the money—in gold.

  “You—you want—the stone— the

  Then he will return to a place which I shall stone——”

  appoint, with the gold. The other—I shall hold He had taken the diamond from an

  him as hostage. He shall be honorably treated.

  inner pocket, clutching it madly to his breast For thirty days I shall hold him. For thirty as a mother clutches her first-born when fever days I shall wait for the return of the first—

  stalks through the land. The light of the camp with the gold. And then, if he does not return fire had mirrored a thousandfold in the with the gold, also if he should play false and facetings of the diamond, like countless, talk to the French—and remember that I have intersecting rainbows; endless, zigzag many spies—I shall kill the hostage.” His flashings of electric blue and deep rose and voice had again been very soft and gentle. “I keen, arrogant emerald-green; like the shall kill him slowly. Oh, so very slowly.

  shooting of dragon-flies and purple-winged

  There shall be no hurry. The first day I shall tropical moths.

  cut off an ear and the next day his tongue.

  But Vasanda had only smiled and Perhaps. A matter of choice, my friends, of the waved the stone away.

  moment’s inspiration. A little bit of his

  “No, no. By the lives of the many

  throbbing body cut off to-day, another to-

  Bodhisats! I do not wish your plaything.

  morrow. Thus for two weeks. Perhaps three. It They had felt relieved at such altruism.

  depends upon the vitality of the man who is

  But a moment later their relief had changed

  being killed. You both look strong and

  into impotent hatred and rage.

  healthy. You would last a long time under the Vasanda had risen to his full height.

  little knives. Raw wounds, my friends,

  There was a look in his oblique eyes as sharp remember that. Also there will be insects, the and clear as edges of splintered glass. His

  flying cockroaches and the bramras which

  voice had lost its gentle, soothing quality. He follow the smell of blood and festering flesh.

  was now speaking with harsh-riveting Also there will be ants, many ants, and a thin emphasis.

  river of honey to show them the trail.”

  “What good is the stone to me? I

  He had lit another cigarette. He had

  cannot eat it. I cannot drink it. I cannot kill yawned. Then he had continued.

  with it. I am not a woman of the inner bazaars

  “Consider. One goes to the Coast. The

  to long for scented hair oil and jewels. Neither other remains as my guest. It has been told me could I sell it. For behold: the stone is known.

  that you two love each other with the love of

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  twin brothers. Thus I believe that he who goes they knew that each knew the other as well as to the Coast will return—with the gold. It is a he knew himself, and that their characters, safe gamble. I give you two hours to decide

  their virtues and their shortcomings, were which one of you two shall go, and which one exactly the same. And so, when Vasanda had shall stay behind. Remember the little come to them out of the jungle they felt knives—and the little ants which follow the

  suddenly as choked in mephitic air. The

  trail of the honey——”

  thought of the unspoken, half-formed desires The Tonkinese had bowed and stepped

  in their hearts stretched before them as a

  back into the black jungle.

  boundless bog.

  And now the two hours were nearly

  For, knowing each other so well, they

  over.

  also knew that the foul tropics had bred in

  Vasanda had said that they loved each

  each the sordid love of gain, the cruel

  other with the love of twin brothers. It was ruthlessness of desire. They knew that, though true.

  enigmatic and close-hidden, there was yet in They had visited the same school in

  both their hearts that grim craving after

  Paris. They had been copains de lycee; money—hard and merciless as a bitter-cored

  roommates, class-mates, bench-mates during

  stone fruit.

  the long plastic years of childhood and youth.

  Friends? Why of course they were

  They had served in the same regiment, at

  friends. But then they had lived in the tropics Tours. They had sown their wild oats along

  for two years, breathing, thinking, eating,

  parallel lines. No woman had even come drinking the poison of the yellow lands. There between them. They had been apprentices, was the chance to reach the coast—with the then clerks in the same office. Finally they had stone—and then the Australian agent—the

  established themselves in business as partners.

  gold—and over there, across the way, was

  They bought and sold precious stones.

  Paris.

  They were the best of friends. They

  Friendship?

  Duty of friendship?

  knew that their mutual liking and friendship, If friendship it was, it was a friendship

  their trust in each other, their combined of their own making—of their own unmaking, honest, square-souled decency and strength

  if they wished. So they thought, and each

  was a solid edifice which sheltered them could read the other as an open book. For they against petty jealousy and envy.

  were friends who loved and knew each other

  When they had gone to Tonkin to buy

  as twin brothers rocked in the same cradle.

  jewels, they had done so eagerly, expectantly.

  One would go to the coast—to bring

  A little adventure, they thought; a ray of vivid the gold. The other would stay behind as a

  tropical light to break into the complacence of hostage—and there were the little knives and their home business. And they had done the ants which always follow the honey trail.

  mighty well in the Far East during the two

  And suddenly they knew, both knew,

  years of their stay.

  that the one who would go to the coast would Finally had come their chance to buy

  never, never come back. For there were five

  and sell “The Star of the Middle Kingdom,”

  million francs in gold—and back yonder was

  the famed pink diamond which had been the

  France, Paris, home—and the chance, the

  dream of every jeweler for three generations.

  lovable, damnable chance!

  It had been a big, promising chance; and they Suddenly Durand laughed—that dry,

  had gone after it with the enthusiasm of youth.

  harsh laugh of his—and he threw a greasy

 
Yes. They knew each other well. And

  pack of playing cards into the circle of meager

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  5

  light which came from the little camp fire.

  Gautier cleared a little space on the

  “Let the cards decide, old friend,” he

  ground with the point of his shoe. The dead

  shouted. “The loser stays; the winner goes to leaves stirred with a dry, rasping sound.

  the Coast. And he returns here with the gold—

  Something slimy and phosphorous-green was

  inside of thirty days. It is understood, is it not, rapidly squirming away.

  mon vieux? ”

  “Cut,

  Durand.”

  And again he laughed his cracked,

  He put the cards down between them,

  high-pitched laugh.

  on the ground. The other was calmly lighting a

  “Of course,” Gautier replied. “The cigarette, making no attempt to cut the deck.

  winner comes back with the gold—inside of

  Gautier spoke again. There was entreaty,

  thirty days.”

  supplication, despair in his tense, strained But he could not look into Durand’s

  voice.

  eyes, nor could Durand look into his.

  “Cut, Jean! Cut, for the love of God!”

  “One hand of poker! Draw to your

  The sweat was pouring from his face.

  cards and show-down!” cried Durand.

  Little luminous blue spots were dancing in

  Anatole Gautier picked up the deck.

  front of his eyes. Something like a gigantic He shuffled, slowly, mechanically, his sledgehammer was striking at the base of his thoughts far away, at the Coast. Suddenly it skull. His blood throbbed thickly in his veins.

  seemed to him that his brain was frantically His hands seemed swollen out of proportion.