drums were the first indication, for it occurred to me that, despite Clarissa’s suggestion, there were no predators on Koluwai big enough to harm a man. Then I started to notice that most of the islanders bore scars between the swirling patterns of their tattoos, and on many occasions I observed that some of the scars were very fresh. Next, I became conscious that—from an age any civilised person would consider still a part of childhood—the female Koluwaians were almost permanently pregnant, but while there were many, many children on the island, the population wasn’t expanding. In investigating this, I soon discovered that the town and all the villages were subject to mysterious disappearances. People simply vanished, and the islanders absolutely refused to talk about it, other than to acknowledge that it happened.
“Surely they don’t eat them all?” I said to Clarissa.
My companion, who was at that time preoccupied with fitting pews inside the church, replied distractedly, “When this place is finished and the natives can gather in it and listen to you, and when I begin to practise medicine, we’ll be better able to foster their trust. Perhaps then they’ll be more willing to explain the way of things in this part of the world.”
I looked around at the inside of the marvellous little church. “Assuming we can persuade them to come here at all.”
It wasn’t long before my suspicion that the islanders were engaging in blasphemous rites became inextricably bound to the phenomenal storms. These queer cloudless and rainless atmospheric disturbances crackled over the island with an almost clockwork regularity. Each night, when the first snap of electrical energy sounded, the men took up their spears and disappeared into the thick foliage—a fact that piqued my curiosity to such an extent that, one morning, I armed myself with my revolver, found the place where they’d pushed into the jungle, and followed their faint trail. It was a long and uncomfortable hike—the dawn’s dew quickly made my clothes sodden and thorns nicked at the skin of my hands and face—but I pushed on, determined to solve the mystery of their nightly excursions.
The path led to a small glade at the summit of a steep hill. It was crowded with white flowers whose cloying scent made the atmosphere so thick and sickly that my senses began to swim. I held my wet shirtsleeve over my nose and mouth, stepped forward, and noticed that something was lying in the middle of the space, its inky-blue form half-concealed by the blooms. Hesitantly, I approached it, an inexplicable chill crawling up my spine.
It was a corpse—eviscerated, beheaded, slashed, torn, and rendered impossible to identify. However, as I gazed at it, spellbound, one horrifying fact gradually overcame me. Though vaguely humanoid, the thing was neither man nor woman. It wasn’t any beast that I recognised. I didn’t know what manner of being it was.
Staggering back, I tripped over the dried husk of a severed limb and saw that there were many more of the dead things strewn around the clearing.
I shrieked, dropped my pistol, turned, and ran. By the time I reached the cabin, I’d half-convinced myself that the pungent aroma of the flowers had caused me to hallucinate.
I made no mention of my excursion to Clarissa. I feared she might already regard me as prone to mental instability.
Perhaps I was.
My nightmares grew worse.
By the middle of the year, the missionary station was completed. Even in a comfortable climate this would have been considered fast work, but under the burning Melanesian sun it was incredible, and I stood in awe of Clarissa’s practical skills, endurance, and knowledge.
“I shall send a man to deliver a message to all the villages,” I told her, “to inform them that we shall hold our first service this coming Sunday. Perhaps curiosity will drive a few to attend, but even if just one person comes, it will be a start.”
In the event, that’s exactly what I got—a congregation of one.
Iriputiz.
So I gave my first and only sermon on the island to its witch doctor, employing as much Koluwaian as I could muster but resorting frequently to German. I explained what the Bible is, and how, through its guidance, a man might live according to God’s will and thus gain eternal peace in the Kingdom of Heaven. I then asked Iriputiz to follow me in the recitation of the Lord’s Prayer.
“And this will make your god come to us?” he asked.