And so it is that I feel I have betrayed the graces that God has bestowed upon me, as even at this moment, when ample evidence suggests that God has spared my life, I cannot help but question if it was indeed His will. Now that immediate death no longer haunts my thoughts, I feel a need to look at my situation rationally and without preconception. What is it, exactly, that is happening to me? If rigorous analysis proves that my circumstances have improved due to the forgiving hand of God, then I shall forever be His grateful servant. However, if, as I am beginning to suspect, my condition is due simply to the influences of natural, corporeal phenomena, then I must endeavor to better understand these phenomena, as they surely are unknown to science and the civilized world.
I shall describe the events of this day to facilitate this analysis.
I awoke several times during the night. Surprisingly, this was due to reasons other than the pain of my injuries. The first time I awoke, it was due to experiencing a most unusual dream. It seemed to me at the time to be real, such that I awoke truly believing I had experienced its events. The dream began in the heavens, in which innumerable stars populated the dark night sky. However, rather than the familiar situation of stars overhead and ground below, there were stars in every direction—above, below, and to all sides. I was able to look in any direction at will but was unable to see my own body. There was nothing but black sky and stars. To my surprise I saw no familiar constellations. And I had considerable time to examine the stars, so long in fact that I was nearly overcome with a sense of aloneness, as if I had been there with only stars as my company for years, or perhaps centuries.
At last the previously unchanging view of the heavens began to shift, and I had the sensation that it was I who was moving. The stars began to shift faster, and faster still, until new stars were passing by me before I could get a proper look at them. If there were constellations that I knew, they passed by unrecognized. Again, this state of movement seemed to go on for a very long time, and my sense of aloneness intensified.
Finally, a star in the distance seemed to grow larger, as if it were getting gradually closer. As it continued to grow, it became so bright that I could not gaze directly upon it, and it was then that I saw something quite astonishing. Beside the star was a world, steadily growing larger as I drew nearer to it. It was rather like looking at the moon when it is full and round, but instead of a stark and dead surface, this world was vivid with blue oceans, brown continents, and white clouds. As the world drew even closer, I saw something else. It was a smaller world, the moon with which we are all familiar. I knew then that I was gazing upon the earth itself, in a way that no man had ever done before. Although I knew it must have been the earth, the shapes and arrangements of the continents puzzled me, as they did not resemble those that modern man has determined to be so, as shown on every globe installed in schools of civilized countries. The continents before me were somewhat recognizable, but arranged in such a way that reminded me of a map I had seen, created by the geographer Antonio Snider-Pelligrini, in which he theorized that the continents had gradually drifted about on the earth’s surface. If Mr. Snider-Pellegrini was correct, I was observing the earth as it appeared in some long-past age.
The earth grew larger and filled my entire vision, and still I moved closer, until I passed directly through a thin layer of clouds. In the next instant I was on a barren, brown landscape, devoid of any discernable living things. Bare rocks and volcanic mountains could be seen in every direction to the horizon. Again I had the strange sensation that an unimaginable duration of time was passing, and as I watched, the landscape around me began to change. Bodies of water advanced and receded in a matter of seconds. Brown rocks and dirt gave way to a thin layer of green upon the ground, followed by taller vegetation. Great forests filled the landscape, and like the bodies of water, they advanced and receded again and again. Mountains rose abruptly and gradually leveled out as they were washed into the seas. Still I felt a sense of aloneness, but now this was alleviated by another sensation, that of great anticipation.
At last the passing of time diminished. I found myself in a jungle, not unlike the forest of my present situation. The smell of moist soil entered my nostrils, and I heard the singing of birds and felt the tropical climate. To my surprise, upon the ground before me was a tree kangaroo, of the same type Charles had shot. It gazed at me, and then it turned and ran away. I followed. The creature led me directly to the village of the barbarous indigenes who had killed Charles and my boys, and there upon its carrying frame was the same confounding lump of clay. But this time, in this strange and vivid dream, I did not give a moment’s thought to the presence of God. Instead, I was overcome with a different understanding, that there was indeed a presence there, but most assuredly not that of God. Notwithstanding that an intelligent presence within a lump of clay naturally implies an act of God, I somehow was aware that this presence, rather than being the creator of this earth, was upon the earth after having journeyed a great distance.
That is when I awoke. And rather than lying in the darkness and brooding over my ruined body and impending death, I thought only of the importance of my dream. Had it been more than a mere dream?
I awoke again later in the night, thinking that ants or some other pests were creeping about upon my body and entering my wounds. It felt as if each puncture and gash were crawling with activity. But when I felt them with my fingertips, I could find no evidence of marauding insects, and I had no source of light for a visual inspection. As I lay there trying to rest, I continued to feel as if things were moving about on my wounds, or perhaps that the torn skin itself were moving.
Eventually I awoke yet again and saw that the night had passed and so had much of the morning. I heard the softly spoken words of my Papuan captors somewhere outside. As I lay there on my side, gazing at the hut’s wall and slowly gaining my senses, I realized that I felt no pain. I sat up, surprisingly with no discomfort. Still completely naked, I inspected my wounds, upon which I became greatly confused. The spear punctures were nearly healed, as was my pectoral muscle that had been run completely through. Fresh and pale skin had grown over them, making them appear as scars from injuries that had occurred weeks before. Was it possible that I had slept for such a long time? I rubbed the scars with my fingers and still felt no pain. Next I inspected my severed heel tendons and found them to be in the same advanced state of healing. I knew this to be quite impossible, as severed heel tendons snap apart in such a way that they must be forcibly pulled together to be carefully sewn, an operation that rarely results in a patient’s ability to walk or run as he once did. But my tendons seemed to have reattached themselves. I put pressure upon one heel and the tendon grew tight without rupturing. I then rose to my feet and carefully took a few steps. To my amazement, the tendons functioned satisfactorily. I walked to the door of the hut, which was about fifteen feet above the ground, and below me two tribesmen sat together, quietly talking. When they saw me, one of them stood and shouted, at the same time thrusting his spear in my direction, a clear message that I was not to leave the hut. And so I spent the next few hours pacing, contemplating my miraculous recovery, and feeling my body seemingly grow stronger with each passing moment. Finally, I sat with my satchel to write these events in my notebook.
To any civilized person who might be reading these words, you probably assume that there can be only two possible explanations: either I have gone mad, or God did indeed act on my behalf. I did, after all, beg for His mercy while being tormented. However, now that my mind is clear, I can assure you that there is yet a third possibility, that the mysterious lump of clay, which is not a vessel of God after all, is the author of my current existence. It is a most extraordinary entity, and if I continue to grow stronger and can avoid being murdered by the savages holding me captive, I intend to learn what I can of its particulars.
10
April 23, 1868
Little else of importance happened yesterday after I had written in my notebook, a
lthough my captors did finally bring food and water. Late in the afternoon, two tribesmen climbed to my hut and gave me a hollowed-out gourd filled with sago paste, and another containing dirty brown water. I was much in need of these and readily accepted them. Sitting naked upon the floor, I devoured them as my captors watched. One of the men was the savage with green parrot feathers in his hair, the very man who had killed Charles. The other was a man I had not seen before. White cockatoo feathers protruded from his frizzly hair in the same fashion as the green feathers of the first man. In addition, the man with white feathers wore more ornamentation than any of the other tribesmen I had so far seen. Bands of woven grass encircled his upper arms, adorned with black cassowary feathers, and a broad necklace of small white and orange cowrie mollusk shells hung about his neck. This was so wide that it covered his shoulders and much of his chest. Like the other men, he wore a hollow gourd upon his sexual organ, and I saw that his gourd was adorned with figures carved into its surface. Something seemed familiar about these figures, and then I recognized some of them as the same figures that had appeared in my vision when I had put my hands to the mysterious lump of clay. I pointed to the figures on the gourd and asked what significance they held, but of course the men could not understand my words.
At that moment I realized my thoughts had transcended mere concerns over my immediate death. I knew then, and I still believe now, that I may die at the hands of these savages, but a great scientific curiosity was arising within me. I had encountered a phenomenon I could not explain, one that could be of great importance to science. Rather than thinking only of my escape, I began to have thoughts on how I might convince the natives to allow me to live so that I could learn more about what I had observed the last few days. And I was encouraged in this respect when the two men approached me, pointed at the various wounds they had inflicted upon me, and exchanged words. They were discussing my remarkable recovery, indicating that it was important to them.
“Samuel,” I said to them, and I placed my hand on my chest. They gazed at me for a moment, and then I stated my name again.
To my surprise, they each repeated my name, although the pronunciation was less than perfect. I pointed to them and then used gesticulations I thought might express my desire to know their names.
Apparently this worked, as the man with green feathers placed his hand upon his own chest and said, “Sinanie.”
“Sinanie,” I said back to him.
Then the man with white feathers touched his chest and said, “Matiinuo.”
“Matiinuo,” said I.
The two men gazed at me a moment longer, and then they left me alone with nothing to do but ponder my fate.
My second night as a prisoner in the hut was more restful. I slept with relatively little concern or discomfort, notwithstanding the fact that I had no proper bed. Before sleeping I had to relieve my bowels, after which I kicked the feces out the door. Upon doing this, I saw that there were no natives below to prevent my escape. I considered this option for some minutes and even jumped about frantically in the hut to see if my injured ankles were healed to the point of allowing me to run. But the results of this were of mixed implications. On the one hand I experienced no pain and felt as if I could outrun the swiftest native. On the other hand the very truth of this inclined me to believe that, should I successfully escape, I would never have the opportunity to understand what manner of substance could have such astounding qualities of healing. I would be leaving behind a most significant discovery.
It also occurred to me that, should I escape and somehow find my way back to the Humboldt Bay village, I would hardly be welcome there once it was known that Amborn, Miok, and Loo had been murdered while in my service. It seemed that my safety there might be as uncertain as it was here. And so, as astounding as it might seem, I chose to stay in my present situation.
I awoke this morning to another surprise. Unlike the previous night, I had slept without dreaming. Upon awaking, however, I was comforted by a most uncharacteristic sense of well-being. As I lay naked upon the floor, marveling at how I could feel so fit, I attempted to recall the multitude of injuries I had suffered. To my amazement, visions of each event I endeavored to remember came to me with perfect clarity. I could relive each moment as if it were happening all over again. This was at the same time interesting and alarming. I arose and paced about the hut, thinking of events from my past. Each of them, no matter how small or unimportant, appeared as a perfectly detailed vision in my mind. I was able to recall things I had long forgotten: words spoken or read, acquaintances met, and sights I had seen years before, even well back into my youth. It was all quite astounding, and I amused myself in such a way for much of the day, fearing that this unusual intellectual ability might expire at any moment.
As if this were not astonishing enough, there was yet another surprise. As I paced about the hut, it occurred to me that everything before my eyes was perfectly focused, despite the fact that my spectacles were still in my satchel, where I had placed them the previous night. Not since I was merely a boy had my unaided eyes seen things with such clarity. Hence, my spectacles remained in the satchel, as I apparently had no further need for them.
Later in the afternoon, Sinanie and Matiinuo climbed up to my hut again. When I saw that they had no weapons, but instead had brought only food and water, I exclaimed to them with excitement the details of my newfound ability. Of course they could understand none of it, and they observed me in silence for some time. They placed gourds of water and sago paste on the floor, and then Matiinuo came forward. He opened one of his hands, and in it was a white cockatoo feather, similar to those attached to his hair. He grasped the feather with two fingers and then held it against his hair. After a brief moment he moved it to another spot upon his hair, and then to another after that, as if he were unsure of where it should be attached.
I gazed at his frizzly hair, and then I knew. I extended my hand and actually touched a spot on his head. “It was there,” said I. “Yesterday the feather was in that exact location.”
He looked at Sinanie and said, “Mülalüp nokhu-khata-pa amo-ba-lé. Khakhul-fekho lép-telo. Imoné-fekho khil gam.”
Sinanie said, “Yu sol nggulun?”
Matiinuo then said, “Nokhu be-khelép-telo-n-din-da. Nokhu ülmo belén bakha-li. Nokhu funép ülmo lulo-kha-lé. Nokhu funép nggawél ülmo.”
Note: Again, I have determined that translating some of the conversations exactly as they took place will help readers understand important events. On that day, of course, I could not understand the natives’ words. Now, however, as I transcribe this notebook, I am able to provide a translation:
Matiinuo: “We have done things like that in former times. Yesterday he was ill. Now he is healthy and improved.”
Sinanie: “Is he a new teacher?”
Matiinuo: “We cannot know. We will not kill him on this day. Perhaps we will kill him tomorrow or the day after. Perhaps we are not willing to kill him.”
After this exchange of words, the two men gazed at me for a moment, and then they descended to the ground, leaving me alone yet again.
As the afternoon now turns to evening, there is little for me to do other than employ my newfound mental capacity to recall every detail of what I have already learned about these unusual natives and the lump of clay they keep concealed here. Perhaps tomorrow I will have the opportunity to learn more.
11
April 24, 1868
It is a rare thing for a man to experience an event that transforms his mind such that he then views the world with an entirely new perspective. Most men may experience only one such event, perhaps as they pass from boy to man and discover for the first time that all people are capable of malicious and deceitful acts, or perhaps when they learn that they are to be forever subject to a flourishing attraction to members of the fair sex. Nonetheless, in the single day that has passed since I last wrote, I have experienced not one, but two such events, and I fear I shall never be the same
man that I was.
I will begin with my dream of last night, my third night as a prisoner here. I hesitate to use the word dream to describe it, as this word implies an unimportant, often senseless transmogrification of a person’s thoughts, somehow conjured during one’s sleep. But this dream, like the dream of my first night here, had little resemblance to any dreams of my past. It was clear and detailed in such a way as to indicate to me that the vision was not from my own imagination, but rather was being shown to me. I am sure of this, because the contents of the vision were quite beyond my own mind’s capacity to concoct.
At some time during the night, which I believe to have been the early morning just before awaking, I was suddenly alert and quite aware of my surroundings. But on this occasion, instead of finding myself in the heavens with nothing but stars to see, I was perhaps twenty feet above the ground, in some strange land unlike any I have seen in my travels. There were rocks below me, and among the rocks were pools of water, rippling from the actions of fish or other aquatic creatures just below the surface. The pools of water stretched out into the distance as far as I could see. Most unusual, however, was the odd red hue of the entire scene, due to the sun just rising from the horizon. And never had I seen a sun like this. It seemed to be far larger than I had ever seen the sun, even just at sunrise, and its color was a deep and spellbinding red. As I watched the sun rise higher, it did not turn from red to brilliant yellow as I have always known the sun to do. Instead, it remained red, although it became much brighter, and it cast a beautiful pink light upon the landscape.
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