"It appears that Red was the most comely thing you ever saw. I've talked to quite a number of people who knew him in those days, white men, and they all agree that the first time you saw him his beauty just took your breath away. They called him Red on account of his flaming hair.”
These are the first words that introduce the reader to the physical image of the title character. Neilson is recalling this image of the young sailor as a memory and conveying the recollection to the captain of the schooner newly anchored in port. As it will turn out, Neilson’s recollection is more than that of mere observer to events external to his own self-interest. He will prove to be a major player in the drama of Red’s life and, in fact, a very serious player at that. To the extent that a reader should be inclined to at least question whether he is entirely credible as the storyteller. It has been reported that “Red” was a personal favorite of the author and so it seems perfectly natural to wonder if that favoritism is related not so much to the plot itself, but to the secondary themes of how a story is told.
“I can speak of Red only from hearsay, but I saw the girl three years after he first met her, and she was scarcely nineteen then. You cannot imagine how exquisite she was. She had the passionate grace of the hibiscus and the rich colour. She was rather tall, slim, with the delicate features of her race, and large eyes like pools of still water under the palm trees; her hair, black and curling, fell down her back, and she wore a wreath of scented flowers. Her hands were lovely. They were so small, so exquisitely formed, they gave your heart-strings a wrench.”
For the moment, overlook the possibility that Neilson may or may not actually have only known Red in a second-hand way. Instead, focus on the attributions of beauty given over to the native girl. Red had fallen head over heels for her and took to calling her Sally which, obviously, was not actually her indigenous cultural name. Sally she seemed and so Sally she was. This is it right here in these two descriptive passages commenting upon the respective physical beauty of the young man and teenage island girl.
She made an observation to Neilson about some household matter and he answered. He wondered if his voice sounded as unnatural to her as it did to himself. She gave the man who was sitting in the chair by the window an indifferent glance, and went out of the room. The moment had come and gone.
The “she” is Neilson’s wife, a stout, gray-haired old woman. The man by the window who receives the indifferent glance is the captain. But they are better known by their nicknames: Sally and Red. And neither recognizes the other as once being the love of their life. For that was many years ago and despite being tragically ripped from each other by the vicious hand of fate—and despite Neilson’s lifelong fear of exactly this moment coming to pass—they are completely unaware of what has just happened. For Sally is not longer slim and delicate and Red no longer gets called that because he has no hair left, much less any that is flaming. The cruelty of the irony seems more like something from a story by Roald Dahl than Somerset Maugham. And maybe that is why it was one of Maugham’s favorites of his own work.
