A bad name of the island, but you have done what you did and you have won. You have been reserved for the good of the center-fine red fish. And, thank you enough, you have a friend, you have a friend. Now, no man can gain friendship except by the ocean, Paulette, your cat, and Helen, and now, I thank you for loving me and for landing on that island with you, by the gentle name. This was the most beautiful day of my life. That's the history of the old Helen and Helen. Oh, yeah, I don't know, but I get tired of trying to laugh. You are an official, Mr. Pellett. Okay! One day Mr. Hull may be a blight. Well, I do. That's fine, sir. I'll be a moment. I can come quick. You're a chef. You're right. You can tell any words. I'm fine, sir. I'm fine. I'll make one bottle of rum. You go along, Mark the Hull, here for trouble, catch them by the way here. By the way here. Yeah, that's fine, sir. I like it. Holy spread of God, all this. I'm not sure if you could say, hey, come on, Paul. Correct me, boy. I'm Pekwith. Oh, Mr. Mummery. I'd like a chat with you, Mr. Hull. Yes, be right with me. Oh, Jack, you go off your bottle of rum and get this mess cleared up. Yes, sir, Mr. Hull. I'm coming to the office now, Mr. Mummery. More cozy there. There you are, Mr. Pellett. There you are. You may know that Pellett. He ought to be in jail. He's a man of man's peace. He is, and particularly so on your rum, Mr. Hull. Oh, come now, Mr. Mummery. I'd like Pellett to come to my doorstep. You've prompted from within, Mr. Hull. How many pearls did Karate give you for all that out there? Oh, just a couple. Oh, she's pearls. She has to be paid for the damage. Karate knows it's forbidden to die in a lagoon. I just don't know when he does it. I think he may have got an idea. I mean, Mr. Mummery, stop it. Not in the future. No, but, Mr. Karate, in fact, he has a pearl down in his mouth. I can't handle all this, Pellett. I just don't understand it. No, Polly, doubt it. Watches over that drunken love like a mother hen blooding chicks in. What mysteriousness. In any case, Pellett's a distinct. How can the rest of us, far dignity in the eyes of the natives, with him rampaging about? But now this is a company island, Mr. Mummery. The agent here has nothing to do with your rum. Nothing I can do. Well, then, Mr. Pellett, I'm a fair man, Mr. Hull. And I won't order you to stop telling Pellett your rum, if there's any other way to handle the man now. I'll be honest with you, sir. I do make a small profit from the correct pearl. Nothing at all, is mine. And still I'd do without it. Just not to have Pellett about. Why, when I walk down the street, I must be living a native's laughing at me just because I'm a white man. I have a little too, and something must be done at once. Indeed, it must. Mr. Hull, I'll try talking to him like a gentleman. But I'll be purple. Now, could you send Moijang with a message that I'd like to have him with me tomorrow? Me? Yes, if you don't mind my saying, Mr. Pellett. That's all right, then. Tell him they'll be busy now, then. Who knew it? Yes, we'll rock with it. Thank you, Mr. Hull. Yes, it's been years since my friend went back to touch whiskey, Moijang. Yes, I'm sure. You live well here. Fine house, good liquor, tell him. I work hard, Mr. Pellett, and I speak over. You should have been a breeder, Moijang. You missed your line in Cobra. If you please, Mr. Pellett, be honest with me. I think my career, no. Well, go on, Moijang. As long as I'm drinking your whiskey, I'll listen to your chatter. You make it difficult, Mr. Pellett. Ah, I mean to. Yes, I suppose you do. I didn't expect you invited me here out of friendliness, Moijang. You could have friends, Mr. Pellett, if you live decently. I live the way I want. I've got a friend. A tattage. I'm sorry, I never thought of Karachi as a sandwich, as it was years ago. Humanization lies likely on these people, Mr. Pellett. At heart, Karachi is nothing but a heathen's book of fields. Broken, say the word. Yeah, you know, Karachi likes it there. He's always talking about it. The way you most probably talk about it. You are home. Mr. Pellett, isn't that so? Now, Karachi's quite a serious little man. You just haven't got to know him, that's all. Yes, they find much in common, I see. Good evidence. Surely you haven't fought so low and forgotten everything we stand for. I'm no use for any man except Karachi. He's the only friend I've ever had, I trust. How would you know what's going on in that given place? I don't have to, so far as he's treated me right, doesn't he? But you have no respect for the position the rest of us here must maintain. You disdain us in the eyes of every native on this island. Well, I am afraid. You didn't know I was so important to Karachi. You're beyond the reasoning, Greg. Well, I can go on trying, Monry, so long as the whiskey holds up. Have you no flight plans? I cleaned out a fire in Sydney once, a war against nine sailors. That's not exactly what I meant. I engineered a mutiny aboard an Arab tower on the Gulf of Oman, some years back. I saw their cargo look by a ray for a pretty big amount of money, pretty big. That's what they say, compounded a crime. The cargo was illegal, and the cargo was illegal. I'm not sure what you're talking about. I'm not sure what you're talking about. I'm not sure what you're talking about. The cargo was illegal in the first place, Monry. You know what it was? A plane. Little boys and girls, Monry. Mr. Tellis, I must ask you once and for all... This bottle's almost finished, Monry, so spit it out. Will you take a job if I offer you one? A job? Monry, I stopped working nine years ago. I mean, yes, we're here. All right, then I must ask you to leave this island on the next boat. I like it here, Monry. I'm staying here. I can't make you go, I suppose. You suppose, right? But I do have certain powers. The company controls the sale of liquor here, Mr. Tellis. And if I order that none be given you... You'll do that? I would. Unless I take a job? Or leave, is that it? Exactly. Well... I'm not working. And I'm not leaving, Monry. Then you won't be boozing either, Mr. Tellis. I'll finish this scotch, Monry. I think I've earned it. Good day, Mr. Tellis. That night the order went out to Sir Tellis, no more around. However, the skin full of scotch he'd taken on at the age of twelve for him to enjoy until the next day. He awoke then with a terrible thirst, and like eating, he was raging. You can't cut off alcohol from a man who had been continuously tickled for nine years without result more or less flabby. Karakehi, the sensation of the state, bore the brunt of it all. Karakehi, the little heathen from New Vizsila, a place where some people were cloaked and others deep. It took two days of awful torture to break Tellis' spirit, and then on the morning of the third a man was shunned. All right. All right. Mr. Tellis, please come in, man. Come in. Monry, I need a drink. No, Mr. Tellis, not a drop. Not here, not anywhere else in the booty. Give me a drink, man. I'll kill on your blood, this ship. Oh, then you'll drink with me? Yes, yes, I'll drink with you. And on the next ship? Yes, I'll go on the next ship. Well, the next ship's due within a week. You can have your lunch now, but you'll be on that ship when she sails. All right, I'll make order. I'll make order. I'll give you a drink. Wait. Yes, you'll drink with you for hours. I'll give you a message, please. All right. I'll go back to the ship. All right. All right. All right. We should be getting back out. There's another island, monry. Maybe she'll be transferred there one day. If you'll let me know, then I want to see no more of you until the day you leave. Enough for me, you're really so kind. At least I'm a gentleman, Mr. Pellett, and I have enough respect for myself not to become a walking insult to me and my race. There's no harm or even a note. You can come to the house and preach at me there. I wouldn't mind it. All right, man. William, 4th Street. In the days that followed, Mr. Pellett became a problem-free lump of flesh and deserved an alcohol. He did not smile nor dance or exhibit any legible exotism in him that sometimes recommended drunken to a certain toleration. He was a brute, and he behaved like a brute. But all the time, waiting for the day the ship would arrive, Karake remained true. He had showered more devotion than ever upon his friend. He spent his evenings outside Michael House bar, patiently waiting for Pellett to get drunk enough to take a long thought to him and cause him to know that what was Hell would be other than mental breaking his system. Hey, who told you to open it? Don't lie, Mr. Barrett. Next time I open a bottle, unless you want a broken head. That was hard. Mr. Howe, howe, howe. Frankie Goodman? Yes, Mr. Barrett? It stinks. So do you. I saw it's everyone else on this bloody island. No, I... Here's what I think of you, bloody rat. Here. Hey, now come here. Come here, Elijah. You like my dope? I'm gonna crack you. Here. Here. Frankie. Frankie. Frankie. Frankie, you're a fool. A few minutes later, the Larry and the Ducarache had the mighty man cross his shoulder and bore him down the beach to the miserable shelter of Pandanus Bay, the fake hole home. There he is, Pellet the Mad, bathed in the cool water and carefully brushed the dirt from his bright red hair and good skin. Then he sat by with a fan and kept mosquitoes from the drunken, gross things. He sat there all night while Pellet slept. It was midday before Pellet awoke and groaned his way out of a painful fog of alcohol. Frankie. Frankie. What's wrong? Coconut, more bitter. Here, drink milk. You'll find soon. Ugh. Ugh. Look at that. You better be a little far short of that rum, Karachi. You gonna bottle it out of here? No rum. You drank much too much rum last night. Too much Mojoc rum. What? What do you mean, too much Mojoc rum? Mojoc, you put white powder in bottles. Make you sleep. White powder? Why, that little rat. Mojoc, you're more than kind of rat. I'm gonna tear his throat off. Be careful. Mojoc, I'm gonna turn the knife. Cut his face off. My word. That little wax man, I'll murder him. Come on, Karachi. So, you watch out for knives? Mojoc, you ain't playing around. I'll kill him. Watch him, course. Pellet, no getting paid. Cut off. I'll have him, Karachi. Don't worry. Half in anger and half in anticipation of the pleasure of beating someone up, Pellet staggered down the beach toward Howe's Bar. It was the noon hour of repose and all for Poochie was asleep. Pellet reached the bar and found Mojoc dozing peacefully among the bottles. But then he woke him with a savage kick. Hey. Ah! Now, get up, you dirty scum. Get up so they can bust holes in you. No, I'm not gonna do it. Hey, I'll see you. Leave me alone, Mickey, will you? Not again, you wuss! No, I absolutely don't want to hurt you. What are you doing? Just fixing me a knife, too. Well, come on. Come on, boy. I want to twist this bottle around your face. Ah! Ah! Ah! I'm not gonna fight with a rat in my little ranch. He's dead. The rock guy killed him. I killed him. Yes. Yes. I'm in trouble now. Poochie! Come on, let's get out of here. Well, we go correct you. We gotta hide. You go across the beach. You wait there. We fix them both. And he goes, hey, quick. What boat? You got no boat. Me find a boat. Me hide. Good friend Pellet. All right, I trust you. We'll hurry, man. Hurry. Pellet waited in terror in the shack on the beach while Karachi broke into the boat's shed and as an axe smashed the bottoms out of the three crafts sheltered there. Then he opened the trade room and quickly gathered together a big bundle of supplies, including a winch, a rifle, and a box of cartridges. Next, he carried everything out onto the beach and loaded it into a Selt-Alfreger canoe that belonged to Mr. Mummery. Finally, he fetched Pellet and the boat back to the shack. And together they hurriedly launched the canoe in the lagoon. Karachi rigged the big mast sail and then paddled out into the breeze just beyond the harbor entrance. We made it, Karachi. This thing? Yes. Well, we had it for anyway. What island we go, Karachi? Who got here? Augustine. You crazy? That's 800 miles from here. What are you saying? We go. My home. 800 miles. We go. All right. Always want to bring you along my home. All right, Karachi. I don't know why you're doing this, Mum. I was just... I was seeing through. It was not the beginning of a very pleasant voyage, but you can just tell it. The fear of being captured and hanged was great enough, but added to it were the horrors gone on for years. The first night he was too afraid to take care, but by morning he was raged. Karachi. I got a half rump. Give me a rump. No more got a rump. Are you a falling fool? Why didn't you pack in the rump? No more need of water. No need of rump. Got plenty of water. Karachi, I don't drink water. I'm not drinking water. I'm not drinking water. I'm not drinking water. More better. You drink water. Well, I won't drink water. Karachi, turn back, please. I'll take hanging. Turn back, I said. You'll soon catch him one big fellow with. Don't move a bit. How could you find more complete lander with? No. Put the gun back in. No. Karachi easily tied the weakened white men hand in foot and continued to sail off into the open sea. Now and then he threw a dip full of seawater over the white men and occasionally said he would cope myself. Karachi was an excellent man. He even combed Pellet's red hair and whiskers twice every day. By the time they reached the Santa Cruz region, Pellet's condition had improved as Karachi released him. They were now in an area peppered with tiny islands and Karachi decided to land on the lee of one in order to replenish their water supply. He dropped the sails and was paddling slowly in the beach. When suddenly from out of nowhere a cutter carrying two white men appeared behind him. One of the men took over the canoe and stopped and surrendered, but Karachi had other ideas. No, Captain Karachi, I'm going to use that as my way. One time Karachi was in a lot of trouble. Okay, I shoot. Karachi, do good. Go, go. The sun was going to leave the two white men and believe a native was there and saw them and take their own life. Karachi, however, wasted no time holding back the open sea without his second lockup. Then 29 days later he was doling out a few and then he dropped Pellet, taking down for himself. His every gesture was one of sacrifice and he is quite a man and might survive. Finally, on the 36th day they cycled across the ocean and by now they came to the shore. There they say to the people of the afternoon, no, it's not the 100-mile program. Karachi, do you think we'll be able to cross the river, right? Yes. That might be a good thing. And Karachi, I want a big fellow friend from you. Okay. You want a big fellow friend from me. Okay. We two big fellow friends always. Yes, I would. You killed me. And thus the prisoner Pellet, in which Karachi killed himself, who had with a rather self-satisfied nature, saved his life again and again. And now, when he was barely sober, he could understand with no pause or covering at that. The native islander was a very, very good man. At the end of the day, two days later, under a gorgeous dawn, they sailed to the bay. And right upon the dancing white man, Pellet was first ashore. And he ran into a rock point where he all looked out and played what he'd done. Karachi, in his incredible, magnificent way, quickly stood on his own two feet. He landed on his own two feet, so he had piles of fire on his feet. Two minutes after, Pellet heard a gentle footsteps behind him. And then signed Karachi, standing there with the rifle and his rifle, as he acted. Be right. Yeah, be right too. Frank, where is your happy Karachi? Be like his head. What? Oh, well, be like him you too, Karachi. We big fellow friends, right? Be like him too much, one fellow has the long view. What? What do you mean, I don't understand? Red hair, fine red wilker, big prize here. Moke him here, make him Karachi's big man on island. You mean you're going to... My head? Yes. Ha ha ha ha ha. Fine head, very fine head. Cut him off now. That was the way, Alex. That was all the necessary. In Karachi's country, a white man's head, well, was indeed a prize. But that is Mr. Christopher Pellet with his precious red whiskers, the thing to be desired about the love of women. And the simple patient in Euring Karachi has served hard to win it. And he didn't really manage to tell it how or why he died, but in his own race, with a penguin for murder anyway. He did really great. Thanks.
