It was the ship chandler’s turn to give us a story. “Pass the bottle,” he said.
“No lies tonight, Phillips,” said Belden, between puffs of his cheroot. “Just give us a straight tale and leave the salt and pepper on the side.”
Phillips, the ship chandler, gulped a mouthful of Barbados and said two words. “Odd pork.”
We were silenced by the nonsense of that phrase.
“Odd pork,” said Phillips again. “That’s what a dead man tastes like. Not rancid, just ‘this is pork but maybe it isn’t’. If I served it to you now, you might never know.”
He stared into the candle and began his tale.
“We were on a trading voyage to Vanatua, off the east coast of Borneo, Captain John Chidsey, ‘Battersea’ Bill Dawes, and me.”
Phillips took a drink. “The Vanatua village was high up in the fog and trees. Everything was dirty. Everything was damp. Chidsey went off with the chief to talk some other business. All he said to us was, ‘Good luck, boys,’ and then he was gone. Chidsey was a scamp and he was mad about the native women. We guessed what his business was.
“Bill and me preached over our trade goods and argued with the chief’s lieutenant. We came to terms. They had copra and that’s what we wanted.
“When the bartering was over, the chief’s lieutenant said, ‘Now we must eat meat together. It is our custom to bind a contract between men.’
“Two local beauties came in with a great platter of grilled meat and set it down in the dirt in the middle of the hut. The meat was charred-black on the edges, rare-pink in the center, seasoned with trade spices. After three weeks of salt horse and ship’s biscuits, it smelled like a night in heaven.
“But the slices of meat were arranged around a boiled human skull wearing Captain Chidsey’s hat.” Phillips took a drink.
“Me and Bill jumped up like we’d sat in an anthill. We’d heard rumors that the Vanatuans were cannibals, but the Company men said that about all the islanders, even those that ate dog. Chidsey told us it was bunk.
“Bill started swearing. ‘Why did you kill the Captain?’ he said. The only reason we’d stopped on Vanatua was Chidsey had told us he and the chief were old friends.
“Then the chief walked in with his warriors and their machetes.
“‘Your Captain tried to rape my daughter,’ he said. “He has been here before and he has always caused trouble for us.’ Bill looked at me and I think even he was scared.
“‘What are your intentions?’ said the chief. ‘Have you come here to cheat us? Maybe to poison us?’ He tapped the keg of trade rum sitting with the bales of cloth and the spools of brass wire and the unpolished knife blanks.
“‘We came here to trade,’ said Bill. ‘We had nothing to do with Chidsey’s crime.’
“‘Then finish the trade,’ said the chief. ‘Men who eat from the same platter cannot betray one another, not in trade or love or war. Prove to us that you are not the sort of man your Captain Chidsey was.’ The chief took a slice of grilled meat and ate it. ‘Or neither of you will leave this house alive.’
“Bill sat down and I sat down next to him. The hut was crowded with black-eyed Vanatuan warriors. Their naked machetes stuck out all around us. I didn’t move an elbow for fear of sticking myself on one of the damned things.
“‘And if we eat with you,’ said Bill, ‘we can leave? With our copra?’
“‘Yes,’ said the chief. Bill looked at me and nodded. We had to do this thing. The savages had already killed Chidsey. They would surely kill us too. Here was a slim chance to get away from here alive.
“And all we had to do was eat Captain Chidsey.
“Bill took a slice of meat, folded it, and stuck it in his mouth. He grimaced and coughed and chewed and swallowed. And because Bill was Bill, he took another slice and ate that too.
“I ate it,” said Phillips. “I ate it. It tasted like pork. I think I said that already. And that’s all I’m going to say about it.
“They started laughing at us, the damned savages. The chief laughed too. Then he said, ‘Kill them.’ Just like that.
“They were going to kill us anyway and they still made us eat that meat.
“Bill jumped up and grabbed me by the arm and he bowled through the grinning warriors. We made it outside. I remember there was a fire pit–I remember an indescribable carcass roasting over a bed of coals. I think I screamed. Bill dragged me after him, and the whole village came running after us.
“We–well, we got away,” said Phillips. “We got away or I wouldn’t be telling you this now. That’s a story for another night. But we got away…”
Phillips finished his glass of rum. “Two years later, I ran into a man who said Captain Chidsey was living in the Sandwich Islands, married to the chief of Vanatua’s daughter. The story went that Chidsey had made a deal with the chief–his daughter in exchange for our cargo. The chief got our trade goods for free and Captain Chidsey got his bride. And me and Bill got away to report the Captain dead so the Company wouldn’t come after him for the loss of the trade goods.
“So maybe me and Bill didn’t eat man-flesh that night after all.
“I saw Bill at Pirro’s Bar in Kowlpoor a while later, and told him the story. He turned it around in his head a bit and then he said, ‘That wasn’t pork.’
“And maybe it wasn’t,” said Phillips. “I’ve spent thirty years trying to get the taste of that meat out of my mouth. Pass the bottle.”
Nick Logan lives and works in Woodstock, Illinois.
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33 Responses to “ODD PORK • by Nick Logan”
Comments
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August 20th, 2008 at 12:28 am
A damn fine tale, Nick. Loved the voice and flow. Looking forward to your next story.
-dj
August 20th, 2008 at 12:50 am
Curiously enough, the somewhat similarly named Vanuatu does exist.
August 20th, 2008 at 3:42 am
Tasty “long pig” story!
Bonnie!
August 20th, 2008 at 3:43 am
Awesome work.
August 20th, 2008 at 4:32 am
Haha! An engaging tale with a twist. Well done!
August 20th, 2008 at 4:52 am
A crackling good tale…think I’ll just have some vegetable soup
August 20th, 2008 at 5:03 am
Nick - This is now one my favorites on EDF. It reminded me of some kind of sick Canterbury Tales.
Thanks
August 20th, 2008 at 5:07 am
Fantastic.
August 20th, 2008 at 5:11 am
A wonderfoully adventurous tale, Nick. Glad I read it after my sandwich of pulled pork.
August 20th, 2008 at 5:21 am
Walt - what’s “pulled pork”??
Nick, I thought this was very well done, an ambitious story to tell in so few words but you pulled it off. Bravo!
August 20th, 2008 at 5:37 am
Nick:
Great flash. Gave it a five.
K.C.
August 20th, 2008 at 6:05 am
Incredible. I love the uncertainty as to what actually happened.
August 20th, 2008 at 6:07 am
A bit gruesome, but very well told. I was pulled right in…
August 20th, 2008 at 6:09 am
Great story! Makes you stop to ponder just how human flesh would taste, and then experience all the accompanying emotions that go with that thought.
August 20th, 2008 at 7:00 am
DUDE.
Riveting content but beyond that you have a great natural storytelling style. Good technique.
August 20th, 2008 at 7:11 am
Thanks to everyone for reading my story and commenting!
August 20th, 2008 at 7:44 am
Felt like i was really being told this story.
It made me bloody hungry though….i could kill for some of that steamy…juicy…meat.
August 20th, 2008 at 8:15 am
Very nice story with a nice twist. I love Kipling, and this is like some of his best. Great job!
August 20th, 2008 at 8:35 am
Excellent adventure. Good job.
August 20th, 2008 at 9:36 am
Loved it!! Won’t be eating pork for awhile!!!
August 20th, 2008 at 9:37 am
Nice job, Nick. This is a great story, and well-told. You rocked it.
August 20th, 2008 at 11:13 am
Lol. This was good–thanks, Nick. Love the twist at the end.
August 20th, 2008 at 11:18 am
Loved this, Nick. Tense, harrowing, and with a well-executed twist. Great story. I gave it a 5.
August 20th, 2008 at 11:42 am
good story, well done!
August 20th, 2008 at 12:35 pm
Seriously, when is the movie coming out? Anthony Hopkins as Battersea Bill.
August 20th, 2008 at 12:49 pm
Great idea! Actually,in my head, Battersea Bill looks like Gerard Butler with Lemmy Kilmister’s (frontman of Motorhead) mustache, and Buster Keaton’s porkpie hat; with a Tom Waits-esque disheveledness.
August 21st, 2008 at 9:15 am
Nick,
I liked the story. It was good story and it had a nice twist at the end. I will still eat pork though. Looking forward to the next story.
August 21st, 2008 at 11:34 am
Not bad
August 21st, 2008 at 3:14 pm
I knew at the beginning that we wouldn’t get a definitive answer as to what the meat really was. That’s an excellent skill to weave in so early in the piece. You had me wondering how I would end the story, nothing I came up with was as good as yours!
August 21st, 2008 at 8:46 pm
Thoroughly enjoyed reading this tale. You have such an amazing talent at telling stories. Can’t wait to read more about Bill!!
August 22nd, 2008 at 12:29 pm
Sarah, “pulled pork” sandwiches (Jamaican originally) can hardly be called sandwiches. The sauce soaks into the buns and if you tried to pick one up with your hands it would completely fall apart. Well, perhaps if you used a sturdier bun, and wrapped the sandwich in aluminum foil like a burrito, it could be eaten like a sandwich.
I did a similar story, on barbecue, for Southern Fried Weirdness, (http://southernfriedweirdness.blogspot.com/2008/02/face-in-tree.html) I think Nick could consider submissions also to Food TV. If they start reviewing fiction Bobby Flay could review it with the fajitas.
August 22nd, 2008 at 1:49 pm
That was a great one-remind me to invite you over next time we have pork!!!! It really pulled me in–nice job!!
August 22nd, 2008 at 8:34 pm
This story is as good as the smell of bacon sizzling in the morning. And the taste lingers.