Nation - Пратчетт Терри Дэвид Джон (читать книги бесплатно полностью TXT) 📗

“All right, but what about pliers?” said Pilu, holding up a pair. “We’ve never had pliers.”

“We could have,” said Mau, “if we’d wanted to. If we’d needed them.”

“Yes, but that’s the interesting thing. You don’t know you need them until you haven’t got them.”

“We’ve never had them to want to need!” said Mau.

“You don’t have to get angry.”

“I’m not angry!” snapped Mau. “I just think we manage all right!”

Well, they did. The island always had. But the little galley of the Sweet Judy was annoying him in ways he didn’t quite understand, which was making him feel even worse. How did the trousermen get to have all this stuff? They’d piled it up where the low forest met the beach, and it was heavy. Pots, pans, knives, spoons, forks… there was a big fork that, with the simple addition of a shaft, would make the finest fishing spear ever, and there were lots like it, and knives as big as swords.

It was all so… arrogant. The wonderful tools had been treated by the crew as if they were worth hardly anything, thrown in together to rattle around and get scratched. On the island, a fork like that would have been hung on a hut wall and cleaned every day.

There was probably more metal on this one boat than there was in all the islands. And according to Milo there had been lots of boats in Port Mercia, and some of them had been much bigger than the Judy.

Mau knew how make a spear, from picking a shaft to chipping a good sharp point. And when he’d finished, it was truly his, every part of it. The metal spear would be a lot better, but it would just be a… a thing. If it broke, he wouldn’t know how to make another one.

It was the same with the pans. How were they made? Not even Pilu knew.

So we’re not much better than the red crabs, Mau thought, as they dragged a heavy box down to the beach. The figs fall out of the trees, and that’s all they know. Can’t we be better than them?

“I want to learn trouserman,” he said as they sat down to rest before going back inside the stifling, smelly heat of the wreck yet again. “Can you teach me?”

“What do you want to say?” said Pilu, and then he grinned. “You want to be able to talk to the ghost girl, right?”

“Yes, since you ask. We talk like babies. We have to draw pictures!”

“Well, if you want to talk to her about loading and unloading and pulling ropes, I might be able to help,” said Pilu. “Look, we were on a boat with a lot of other men. Mostly they grumbled about the food. I don’t think you want to say ‘This meat tastes like you cut it off a dog’s arse,’ do you? I know that one.”

“No, but it would be nice to be able to talk to her without asking you for words all the time.”

“Cahle is saying the ghost girl is learning to speak our language very well,” Milo rumbled. “And she makes better beer than anyone.”

“I know! But I want to talk to her like a trouserman!”

Pilu grinned. “You and her all by yourselves, eh?”

“What?”

“Well, she’s a girl and you are a — ”

“Look, I’m not interested in the ghost girl! I mean I — ”

“Leave it to me — I know just what you need.” Pilu rummaged in the heap of things they had already taken from the wreck and held up what looked to Mau to be just another plank but, after Pilu had banged at them and hammered at them for a while, turned out to be —

“Trousers,” said Pilu, winking at his brother.

“Well?” said Mau.

“The trousermen ladies like to see a man in trousers,” said Pilu. “When we were in Port Mercia, we weren’t allowed to go ashore unless we wore some, otherwise the trousermen women would give us funny looks and scream.”

“I’m not going to wear them here!”

“The ghost girl might think you’re a trouserman and let you — ” Milo began.

“I’m not interested in the ghost girl!”

“Oh, yeah, you said.” Pilu pulled at the trousers for a moment and then stood them on the beach. They were so encrusted with mud and salt that they stayed up by themselves. They looked fearsome.

“They’re powerful magic, they are,” Milo said. “They’re the future, sure enough.”

Mau tried to avoid crunching the red crabs when they went back along the track to the wreck. They probably didn’t know if they were alive or dead, he thought. I’m certain they don’t believe in little sideways crab gods, and here they are, after the wave, as many as ever. And the birds knew it was coming, too. We didn’t. But we are smart! We make spears and trap fish and tell stories! When Imo made us out of clay, why didn’t he add the bit that tells us that the wave would come?

Back in the Sweet Judy, Pilu whistled cheerfully as he levered up planks with a long metal bar from the toolbox. It was a jaunty tune and unlike anything Mau had heard before. They used to whistle the dogs when they were hunting, but this sounded… complicated.

“What is that?” he said.

“It’s called ‘I’ve Got A Lovely Bunch of Coconuts,’” said Pilu. “One of the men on the John Dee taught it to me. It’s a trouserman song.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means I’ve got a lot of coconuts and I want you to throw things at them,” said Pilu as a piece of the deck began to come free.

“But you don’t have to throw things at them if you’ve already got them down from the tree,” Mau pointed out, leaning on the toolbox.

“I know. The trousermen take coconuts back to their own country and stand them on sticks and throw things at them.”

“Why?”

“For fun, I think. It’s called a coconut shy.” The plank came up with a long-drawn-out scream of nails. It was a horrible noise. Mau felt that he was killing something. All canoes had a soul.

“Shy? What does that mean?” he said. It was better to talk about nonsense than about the death of the Judy.

“It means coconuts want to hide from people,” Milo volunteered, but he looked a bit uncertain at this.

“Hide? But they are in the trees! We can see them.”

“Why do you ask so many questions, Mau?”

“Because I want so many answers! What does shy really mean?”

Pilu looked serious, as he always did when he had to think; generally he preferred talking.

“Shy? Well, the crew said to me, ‘You’re not shy like your brother.’ That was because Milo never said anything much to them. He just wanted to earn a three-legged cauldron and some knives, so he could get married.”

“Are you telling me the trousermen throw things at coconuts because coconuts don’t talk?”

“Could be. They do crazy things,” said Pilu. “The thing about the trousermen is, they are very brave and they sail their boats from the other end of the world, and they have the secret of iron, but there is one thing that they are frightened of. Guess what it is?”

“I don’t know. Sea monsters?” Mau wondered.

“No!”

“Getting lost? Pirates?”

“No.”

“Then I give up. What are they afraid of?”

“Legs. They’re scared of legs,” said Pilu triumphantly.

“They are scared of legs? Whose legs? Their own legs? Do they try to run away from them? How? What with?”

“Not their own legs! But trousermen women get very upset if they see a man’s leg, and one of the boys on the John Dee said a young trouserman fainted when he saw a woman’s ankle. The boy said the trousermen women even put trousers on table legs in case young men see them and think of ladies’ legs!”

“What’s a table? Why does it have legs?”

“That is,” said Pilu, pointing toward the other end of the big cabin. “It’s for making the ground higher.”

Mau had noticed it before but paid it no attention. It was nothing more than a few short planks held off the deck by some bits of wood. It sloped, because the wreck of the Sweet Judy lay on her side and the table was nailed to it. There were twelve pieces of dull metal nailed to the wood. These turned out to be called plates (“What are they for?”), which were nailed down so that they didn’t slip off in stormy weather and could be washed up by someone sloshing a bucket of water (“What’s a bucket?”) over them. The deep marks in the plates were because mostly the food was two-year-old salt-pickled beef or pork, which was very hard to cut even with a steel knife, but Pilu had loved it because you could chew it all day. The Sweet Judy had big barrels of pork and beef. They were feeding the whole island. Mau liked the beef best; according to Pilu, it came from an animal called a cattle.