The Pearl
By John Steinbeck
| Day 7 Audio |
The
way began to rise, and as it did the rocks grew larger. But now Kino had put a
little distance between his family and the trackers. Now,
on the first rise, he rested. He climbed a great boulder and looked back over
the shimmering country, but he could not see his enemies, not even the tall
horseman riding through the brush. Juana had squatted in the shade of the
boulder. She raised her bottle of water to Coyotito's lips; his little dried
tongue sucked greedily at it. She looked up at Kino when he came back; she saw
him examine her ankles, cut and scratched from the stones and brush, andshe
covered them quickly with her skirt. Then she handed the bottle to him, but he
shook his head. Her eyes were bright in her tired face. Kino moistened his
cracked lips with his tongue. "Juana," he said, "I will go on and you will hide.
I will lead them into the mountains, and when they have gone past, you will go
north to Loreto or to Santa Rosalia. Then, if I can escape them, I will come to
you. It is the only safe way." She looked full into his eyes for a moment. "No,"
she said. "We go with you." "I can go faster alone," he said harshly. "You will
put the little one in more danger if you go with me." "No," said Juana. "You
must. It is the wise thing and it is my wish," he said. "No," said Juana. He
looked then for weakness in her face, for fear or irresolution, and there was
none. Her eyes were very bright. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly then, but
he had taken strength from her. When they moved on it was no longer panic
flight. The country, as it rose toward the mountains, changed rapidly. Now there
were long outcroppings of granite with deep crevices between, and Kino walked on
bare unmarkable stone when he could and leaped from ledge to ledge. He knew that
wherever the trackers lost his path they must circle and lose time before they
found it again. And so he did not go straight for the mountains any more; he
moved in zigzags, and sometimes he cut back to the south and left a sign and
then went toward the mountains over bare stone again. And the path rose steeply
now, so that he panted a little as he went. The sun moved downward toward the
bare stone teeth of the mountains, and Kino set his direction for a dark and
shadowy cleft in the range. If there were any water at all, it would be there
where he could see, even in the distance, a hint of foliage. And if there were
any passage through the smooth stone range, it would be by this same deep cleft.
It had its danger, for the trackers would think of it too, but the empty
water-bottle did not let that consideration enter. And as the sun lowered, Kino
and Juana struggled wearily up the steep slope towards the cleft. High in the
gray stone mountains, under a frowning peak, a little spring bubbled out of a
rupture in the stone. It was fed by shade-preserved snow in the summer, and now
and then it died completely and bare rocks and dry algae were on its bottom. But
nearly always it gushed out, cold and clean and lovely. In the times when the
quick rains fell, it might become a freshet and send its column of white water
crashing down the mountain cleft, but nearly always it was a lean little spring.
It bubbled out into a pool and then fell a hundred feet to another pool, and
this one, overflowing, dropped again, so that it continued, down and down, until
it came to the rubble of the upland, and there it disappeared altogether. There
wasn't much left of it then anyway, for every time it fell over an escarpment
the thirsty air drank it, and it splashed from the pools to the dry vegetation.
The animals from miles around came to drink from the little pools, and the wild
sheep and the deer, the pumas and raccoons, and the mice - all came to drink.
And the birds which spent the day in the brushland came at night to the little
pools that were like steps in the mountain cleft. Beside this tiny stream,
wherever enough earth collected for root-hold, colonies of plants grew, wild
grape and little palms, maidenhair fern, hibiscus, and tall pampas grass with
feathery rods raised above the spike leaves. And in the pool lived frogs and
water-skaters, and water-worms crawled on the bottom of the pool. Everything
that loved water came to these few shallow places. The cats took their prey
there, and strewed feathers and lapped water through their bloody teeth. The
little pools were places of life because of the water, and places of killing
becauseof the water, too. The lowest step, where the stream collected before it
tumbled down a hundred feet and disappeared into the rubbly desert, was a little
platform of stone and sand. Only a pencil of water fell into the pool, but it
was enough to keep the pool full and to keep the ferns green in the underhang of
the cliff, and wild grape climbed the stone mountain and all manner of little
plants found comfort here. The freshets had made a small sandy beach through
which the pool flowed, and bright green watercress grew in the damp sand. The
beach was cut and scarred and padded by the feet of animals that had come to
drink and to hunt. The sun had passed over the stone mountains when Kino and
Juana struggled up the steep broken slope and came at last to the water. From
this step they could look out over the sun-beaten desert to the blue Gulf in the
distance. They came utterly weary to the pool, and Juana slumped to her knees
and first washed Coyotito's face and then filled her bottle and gave him a
drink. And the baby was weary and petulant, and he cried softly until Juana gave
him her breast, and then he gurgled and clucked against her. Kino drank long and
thirstily at the pool. For a moment, then, he stretched out beside the water and
relaxed all his muscles and watched Juana feeding the baby, and then he got to
his feet and went to the edge of the step where the water slipped over, and he
searched the distance carefully. His eyes set on a point and he became rigid.
Far down the slope he could see the two trackers; they were little more than
dots or scurrying ants and behind them a larger ant. Juana had turned to look at
him and she saw his back stiffen. "How far?" she asked quietly. "They will be
here by evening," said Kino. He looked up the long steep chimney of the cleft
where the water came down. "We must go west," he said, and his eyes searched the
stone shoulder behind the cleft. And thirty feet up on the gray shoulder he saw
a series of little erosion caves. He slipped off his sandals and clambered up to
them, gripping the bare stone with his toes, and he looked into the shallow
caves. They were only a few feet deep, wind-hollowed scoops, but they sloped
slightly downward and back. Kino crawled into the largest one and lay down and
knew that he could not be seen from the outside. Quickly he went back to Juana.
"You must go up there. Perhaps they will not find us there," he said. Without
question she filled her water bottle to the top, and then Kino helped her up to
the shallow cave and brought up the packages of food and passed them to her. And
Juana sat in the cave entrance and watched him. She saw that he did not try to
erase their tracks in the sand. Instead, he climbed up the brush cliff beside
the water, clawing and tearing at the ferns and wild grape as he went. And when
he had climbed a hundred feet to the next bench, he came down again. He looked
carefully at the smooth rock shoulder toward the cave to see that there was no
trace of passage, and last he climbed up and crept into the cave beside Juana.
"When they go up," he said, "we will slip away, down to the lowlands again. I am
afraid only that the baby may cry. You must see that he does not cry." "He will
not cry," she said, and she raised the baby's face to her own and looked into
his eyes and he stared solemnly back at her. "He knows," said Juana. Now Kino
lay in the cave entrance, his chin braced on his crossed arms, and he watched
the blue shadow of the mountain move out across the brushy desert below until it
reached the Gulf, and the long twilight of the shadow was over the land. The
trackers were long in coming, as though they had trouble with the trail Kino had
left. It was dusk when they came at last to the little pool. And all three were
on foot now, for a horse could not climb the last steep slope. From above they
were thin figures in the evening. The two trackers scurried about on the little
beach, and they saw Kino's progress up the cliff before they drank. The man with
the rifle sat down and rested himself, and the trackers squatted near him, and
in the evening the points of their cigarettes glowed and receded. And then Kino
could see that they were eating, and the soft murmur of their voices came to
him. Then darkness fell, deep and black in the mountain cleft. The animals that
used the pool came near and smelled men there and drifted away again into the
darkness. He heard a murmur behind him. Juana was whispering: "Coyotito." She
was begging him to be quiet. Kino heard the baby whimper, and he knew from the
muffled sounds that Juana had covered his head with her shawl. Down on the beach
a match flared, and in its momentary light Kino saw that two of the men were
sleeping, curled up like dogs, while the third watched, and he saw the glint of
the rifle in the match light. And then the match died, but it left a picture on
Kino's eyes. He could see it, just how each man was, two sleeping curled up and
the third squatting in the sand with the rifle between his knees. Kino moved
silently back into the cave. Juana's eyes were two sparks reflecting a low star.
Kino crawled quietly close to her and he put his lips near to her cheek. "There
is a way," he said. "But they will kill you." "If I get first to the one with
the rifle," Kino said, "I must get to him first, then I will be all right. Two
are sleeping." Her hand crept out from under her shawl and gripped his arm.
"They will see your white clothes in the starlight." "No," he said. "And I must
go before moonrise." He searched for a soft word and then gave it up. "If they
kill me," he said, "lie quietly. And when they are gone away, go to Loreto." Her
hand shook a little, holding his wrist. "There is no choice," he said. "It is
the only way. They will find us in the morning." Her voice trembled a little.
"Go with God," she said. He peered closely at her and he could see her large
eyes. His hand fumbled out and found the baby, and for a moment his palm lay on
Coyotito's head. And then Kino raised his hand and touched Juana's cheek, and
she held her breath. Against the sky in the cave entrance Juana could see that
Kino was taking off his white clothes, for dirty and ragged though they were
they would show up against the dark night. His own brown skin was a better
protection for him. And then she saw how he hooked his amulet neck-string about
the horn handle of his great knife, so that it hung down in front of him and
left both hands free. He did not come back to her. For a moment his body was
black in the cave entrance, crouched and silent, and then he was gone. Juana
moved to the entrance and looked out. She peered like an owl from the hole in
the mountain, and the baby slept under the blanket on her back, his face turned
sideways against her neck and shoulder. She could feel his warm breath against
her skin, and Juana whispered her combination of prayer and magic, her Hail
Marys and her ancient intercession, against the black unhuman things. The night
seemed a little less dark when she looked out, and to the east there was a
lightening in the sky, down near the horizon where the moon would show. And,
looking down, she could see the cigarette of the man on watch. Kino edged like a
slow lizard down the smooth rock shoulder. He had turned his neckstring so that
the great knife hung down from his back and could not clash against the stone.
His spread fingers gripped the mountain, and his bare toes found support through
contact, and even his chest lay against the stone so that he would not slip. For
any sound, a rolling pebble or a sigh, a little slip of flesh on rock, would
rouse the watchers below. Any sound that was not germane to the night would make
them alert. But the night was not silent; the little tree frogs that lived near
the stream twittered like birds, and the high metallic ringing of the cicadas
filled the mountain cleft. And Kino's own music was in his head, the music of
the enemy, low and pulsing, nearly asleep. But the Song of the Family had become
as fierce and sharp and feline as the snarl of a female puma. The family song
was alive now and driving him down on the dark enemy. The harsh cicada seemed to
take up its melody, and the twittering tree frogs called little phrases of it.
And Kino crept silently as a shadow down the smooth mountain face. One bare foot
moved a few inches and the toes touched the stone and gripped, and the other
foot a few inches, and then the palm of one hand a little downwards, and then
the other hand, until the whole body, without seeming to move, had moved. Kino's
mouth was open so that even his breath would make no sound, for he knew that he
was not invisible. If the watcher, sensing movement, looked at the dark place
against the stone which was his body, he could see him. Kino must move so slowly
he would not draw the watcher's eyes. It took him a long time to reach the
bottom and to crouch behind a little dwarf palm. His heart thundered in his
chest and his hands and face were wet with sweat. He crouched and took great
slow long breaths to calm himself. Only twenty feet separated him from the enemy
now, and he tried to remember the ground between. Was there any stone which
might trip him in his rush? He kneaded his legs against cramp and found that his
muscles were jerking after their long tension. And then he looked apprehensively
to the east. The moon would rise in a few moments now, and he must attack before
it rose. He could see the outline of the watcher, but the sleeping men were
below his vision. It was the watcher Kino must find - must find quickly and
without hesitation. Silently he drew the amulet string over his shoulder and
loosened the loop from the horn handle of his great knife. He was too late, for
as he rose from his crouch the silver edge of the moon slipped above the eastern
horizon, and Kino sank back behind his bush. It was an old and ragged moon, but
it threw hard light and hard shadow into the mountain cleft, and now Kino could
see the seated figure of the watcher on the little beach beside the pool. The
watcher gazed full at the moon, and then he lighted another cigarette, and the
match illumined his dark face for a moment. There could be no waiting now; when
the watcher turned his head, Kino must leap. His legs were as tight as wound
springs. And then from above came a little murmuring cry. The watcher turned his
head to listen and then he stood up, and one of the sleepers stirred on the
ground and awakened and asked quietly, "What is it?" "I don't know," said the
watcher. "It sounded like a cry, almost like a human - like a baby." The man who
had been sleeping said: "You can't tell. Some coyote bitch with a litter. I've
heard a coyote pup cry like a baby." The sweat rolled in drops down Kino's
forehead and fell into his eyes and burned them. The little cry came again and
the watcher looked up the side of the hill to the dark cave. "Coyote maybe," he
said, and Kino heard the harsh click as he cocked the rifle. "If it's a coyote,
this will stop it," the watcher said as he raised the gun. Kino was in mid-leap
when the gun crashed and the barrel-flash made a picture on his eyes. The great
knife swung and crunched hollowly. It bit through neck and deep into chest, and
Kino was a terrible machine now. He grasped the rifle even as he wrenched free
his knife. His strength and his movement and his speed were a machine. He
whirled and struck the head of the seated man like a melon. The third man
scrabbled away like a crab, slipped into the pool, and then he began to climb
frantically, to climb up the cliff where the water pencilled down. His hands and
feet threshed in the tangle of the wild grapevine, and he whimpered and gibbered
as he tried to get up. But Kino had become as cold and deadly as steel.
Deliberately he threw the lever of the rifle, and then he raised the gun and
aimed deliberately and fired. He saw his enemy tumble backward into the pool,
and Kino strode to the water. In the moonlight he could see the frantic eyes,
and Kino aimed and fired between the eyes. And then Kino stood uncertainly.
Something was wrong, some signal was trying to get through to his brain. Tree
frogs and cicadas were silent now. And then Kino's brain cleared from its red
concentration and he knew the sound - the keening, moaning, rising hysterical
cry from the little cave in the side of the stone mountain, the cry of death.
Everyone in La Paz remembers the return of the family; there may be some old
ones who saw it, but those whose fathers and whose grandfathers told it to them
remember it nevertheless. It is an event that happened to everyone. It was late
in the golden afternoon when the first little boys ran hysterically in the town
and spread the word that Kino and Juana were coming back. And everyone hurried
to see them. The sun was settling toward the western mountains and the shadows
on the ground were long. And perhaps that was what left the deep impression on
those who saw them. The two came from the rutted country road into the city, and
they were not walking in single file, Kino ahead and Juana behind, as usual, but
side by side. The sun was behind them and their long shadows stalked ahead, and
they seemed to carry two towers of darkness with them. Kino had a rifle across
his arm and Juana carried her shawl like a sack over her shoulder. And in it was
a small limp heavy bundle. The shawl was crusted with dried blood, and the
bundle swayed a little as she walked. Her face was hard and lined and leathery
with fatigue and with the tightness with which she fought fatigue. And her wide
eyes stared inward on herself. She was as remote and as removed as Heaven.
Kino's lips were thin and his jaws tight, and the people say that he carried
fear with him, that he was as dangerous as a rising storm. The people say that
the two seemed tobe removed from human experience; that they had gone through
pain and had come out on the other side; that there was almost a magical
protection about them. And those people who had rushed to see them crowded back
and let them pass and did not speak to them. Kino and Juana walked through the
city as though it were not there. Their eyes glanced neither right nor left nor
up nor down, but stared only straight ahead. Their legs moved a little jerkily,
like well-made wooden dolls, and they carried pillars of black fear about them.
And as they walked through the stone and plaster city brokers peered at them
from barred windows and servants put one eye to a slitted gate and mothers
turned the faces of their youngest children inward against their skirts. Kino
and Juana strode side by side through the stone and plaster city and down among
the brush houses, and the neighbours stood back and let them pass. Juan Tomás
raised his hand in greeting and did not say the greeting and left his hand in
the air for a moment uncertainly. In Kino's ears the Song of the Family was as
fierce as a cry. He was immune and terrible, and his song had become a battle
cry. They trudged past the burned square where their house had been without even
looking at it. They cleared the brush that edged the beach and picked their way
down the shore toward the water. And they did not look toward Kino's broken
canoe. And when they came to the water's edge they stopped and stared out over
the Gulf. And then Kino laid the rifle down, and he dug among his clothes, and
then he held the great pearl in his hand. He looked into its surface and it was
gray and ulcerous. Evil faces peered from it into his eyes, and he saw the light
of burning. And in the surface of the pearl he saw the frantic eyes of the man
in the pool. And in the surface of the pearl he saw Coyotito lying in the little
cave with the top of his head shot away. And the pearl was ugly; it was gray,
like a malignant growth. And Kino heard the music of the pearl, distorted and
insane. Kino's hand shook a little, and he turned slowly to Juana and held the
pearl out to her. She stood beside him, still holding her dead bundle over her
shoulder. She looked at the pearl in his hand for a moment and then she looked
into Kino's eyes and said softly: "No, you." And Kino drew back his arm and
flung the pearl with all his might. Kino and Juana watched it go, winking and
glimmering under the setting sun. They saw the little splash in the distance,
and they stood side by side watching the place for a long time. And the pearl
settled into the lovely green water and dropped towards the bottom. The waving
branches of the algae called to it and beckoned to it. The lights on its surface
were green and lovely. It settled down to the sand bottom among the fern-like
plants. Above, the surface of the water was a green mirror. And the pearl lay on
the floor of the sea. A crab scampering over the bottom raised a little cloud of
sand, and when it settled the pearl was gone. And the music of the pearl drifted
to a whisper and disappeared.
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