Merian C. Cooper's King Kong by Joe DeVito Page A

pakeno!” he stammered. “Sita!” He jerked his arm at the witch doctor. His voice took on a quality of hushed awe as he repeated, “Malem! Malem ma pakeno saba!”
    The witch doctor hobbled closer, his eyes narrowing at first, then widening as he caught sight of Ann. The warriors on both sides stood enthralled, lowering their weapons until the points touched the ground.
    â€œHe’s stood them down,” Englehorn said. “It’s a sign that he wants peace.”
    â€œSabi ma pakeno sati,” creaked the witch doctor.
    â€œWhat now?” Denham asked.
    Englehorn sounded nervous: “He said, ‘Look at the woman of gold!’”
    â€œIt’s her hair,” Denham said. “Blondes are scarce around here.”
    Ann saw Driscoll tense. She knew he was not amused, and she touched his arm.
    The king’s voice rose ecstatically: “Kong! Malem ma pakeno! Kong wa bisa! Kow bisa perat pakeno sati saba Kong,” and he turned to the witch doctor as though seeking agreement.
    The old sorcerer nodded thoughtfully as Englehorn translated swiftly: “The woman of gold. Kong’s gift. The golden one will be a bride for Kong.”
    â€œGood Lord!” Denham protested.
    The king and the witch doctor advanced on Denham, and the former thrust out his hand in a regal command. “Dama!” he said. “Tebo malem na hi!”
    Englehorn’s translation followed like pistol cracks: “Stranger! Sell the woman to us!” Ann felt her skin crawl. She dared not speak, dared not ask Denham what their next move should be.
    â€œDia malem!” the king hurried on.
    â€œSix women!” Englehorn said swiftly. “He will give you six for yours of gold.”
    Ann gasped and tried to smile. “He thinks a lot of me, doesn’t he?”
    Driscoll gave her a furious warning look that told her to keep silent. To Denham, Driscoll said, “You got Ann into this! Say the word and I’ll put a slug between his eyes!”
    â€œSteady, Jack!” Denham smiled briefly and with an unhurried gesture called up his two carriers.
    â€œTell him, as politely as you can,” he said to Englehorn, “that we’d rather not swap. Tell him, I don’t know, tell him our religion does not let us sell our women. It’s a taboo.”
    Ann marveled at the way Englehorn put a solemn, almost apologetic note in his firm response to the king: “Tida! Nem! Malem ata rota na ni! Rota na ni, ka sala mekat. Pakeno malem take mana.” To Denham, he muttered, “I’ve told him our woman is our luck, and we dare not part with her.”
    Against that refusal, polite though it had been, the witch doctor cried in fury. “Bar-Atu, watu!” he screamed. “Tam bisa pare Kong di wana ta!”
    Englehorn took a long breath. “Bar-Atu’s teaching tells them they cannot lose Kong’s gift.”
    â€œThat’s enough for me,” Denham growled. “Tell them again that we’re friends, and that we have to leave. I’m taking Ann back to the ship.”
    â€œWe’d better all slide out,” Englehorn said. “Before that smart old witch doctor thinks to send out a war party to get between us and our boats.”
    Denham nodded. “Fine, but don’t leave the old coot so mad, Skipper. Tell him we’ll be back tomorrow to make friends and talk things over. We’ll bring gifts for them.”
    â€œDulu!” Englehorn promised the chief and the witch doctor gently. “Dulu basa tika ano. Basa ti ki bala. Bala, bala. Dulu hi tego minah.” He motioned unobtrusively as he spoke, and the camera bearer picked up the equipment and retreated. The others were slowly backtracking.
    â€œEn malem?” the chief insisted. “Malem me pakeno?”
    â€œDulu pala malem ma pakeno. Dulu basa tika,” Englehorn said.
    â€œGet going!” Denham ordered briskly to the crew. “Back away. And