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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1712-0.txt b/1712-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a8d87f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/1712-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14853 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rescue, by Joseph Conrad + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Rescue + +Author: Joseph Conrad + +Release Date: January 9, 2006 [EBook #1712] +Last Updated: March 2, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RESCUE *** + + + + +Produced by Judy Boss and David Widger + + + + + +THE RESCUE + +A ROMANCE OF THE SHALLOWS + + +By Joseph Conrad + + +'Allas!' quod she, 'that ever this sholde happe! For wende I never, +by possibilitee, That swich a monstre or merveille mighte be!'--THE +FRANKELEYN'S TALE + + +TO FREDERIC COURTLAND PENFIELD LAST AMBASSADOR OF THE UNITED STATES OF +AMERICA TO THE LATE AUSTRIAN EMPIRE, THIS OLD TIME TALE IS GRATEFULLY +INSCRIBED IN MEMORY OF THE RESCUE OF CERTAIN DISTRESSED TRAVELLERS +EFFECTED BY HIM IN THE WORLD'S GREAT STORM OF THE YEAR 1914 + + + + +AUTHOR'S NOTE + +Of the three long novels of mine which suffered an interruption, “The +Rescue” was the one that had to wait the longest for the good pleasure +of the Fates. I am betraying no secret when I state here that it had +to wait precisely for twenty years. I laid it aside at the end of the +summer of 1898 and it was about the end of the summer of 1918 that I +took it up again with the firm determination to see the end of it and +helped by the sudden feeling that I might be equal to the task. + +This does not mean that I turned to it with elation. I was well aware +and perhaps even too much aware of the dangers of such an adventure. +The amazingly sympathetic kindness which men of various temperaments, +diverse views and different literary tastes have been for years +displaying towards my work has done much for me, has done all--except +giving me that over-weening self-confidence which may assist an +adventurer sometimes but in the long run ends by leading him to the +gallows. + +As the characteristic I want most to impress upon these short Author's +Notes prepared for my first Collected Edition is that of absolute +frankness, I hasten to declare that I founded my hopes not on my +supposed merits but on the continued goodwill of my readers. I may say +at once that my hopes have been justified out of all proportion to my +deserts. I met with the most considerate, most delicately expressed +criticism free from all antagonism and in its conclusions showing +an insight which in itself could not fail to move me deeply, but was +associated also with enough commendation to make me feel rich beyond the +dreams of avarice--I mean an artist's avarice which seeks its treasure +in the hearts of men and women. + +No! Whatever the preliminary anxieties might have been this adventure +was not to end in sorrow. Once more Fortune favoured audacity; and yet +I have never forgotten the jocular translation of _Audaces fortuna juvat_ +offered to me by my tutor when I was a small boy: “The Audacious get +bitten.” However he took care to mention that there were various kinds +of audacity. Oh, there are, there are! . . . There is, for instance, the +kind of audacity almost indistinguishable from impudence. . . . I +must believe that in this case I have not been impudent for I am not +conscious of having been bitten. + +The truth is that when “The Rescue” was laid aside it was not laid aside +in despair. Several reasons contributed to this abandonment and, no +doubt, the first of them was the growing sense of general difficulty in +the handling of the subject. The contents and the course of the story I +had clearly in my mind. But as to the way of presenting the facts, and +perhaps in a certain measure as to the nature of the facts themselves, +I had many doubts. I mean the telling, representative facts, helpful +to carry on the idea, and, at the same time, of such a nature as not to +demand an elaborate creation of the atmosphere to the detriment of +the action. I did not see how I could avoid becoming wearisome in the +presentation of detail and in the pursuit of clearness. I saw the action +plainly enough. What I had lost for the moment was the sense of the +proper formula of expression, the only formula that would suit. This, +of course, weakened my confidence in the intrinsic worth and in the +possible interest of the story--that is in my invention. But I suspect +that all the trouble was, in reality, the doubt of my prose, the doubt +of its adequacy, of its power to master both the colours and the shades. + +It is difficult to describe, exactly as I remember it, the complex state +of my feelings; but those of my readers who take an interest in artistic +perplexities will understand me best when I point out that I dropped +“The Rescue” not to give myself up to idleness, regrets, or dreaming, +but to begin “The Nigger of the 'Narcissus'” and to go on with it +without hesitation and without a pause. A comparison of any page of +“The Rescue” with any page of “The Nigger” will furnish an ocular +demonstration of the nature and the inward meaning of this first crisis +of my writing life. For it was a crisis undoubtedly. The laying aside of +a work so far advanced was a very awful decision to take. It was +wrung from me by a sudden conviction that _there_ only was the road of +salvation, the clear way out for an uneasy conscience. The finishing +of “The Nigger” brought to my troubled mind the comforting sense of +an accomplished task, and the first consciousness of a certain sort +of mastery which could accomplish something with the aid of propitious +stars. Why I did not return to “The Rescue” at once then, was not for +the reason that I had grown afraid of it. Being able now to assume a +firm attitude I said to myself deliberately: “That thing can wait.” At +the same time I was just as certain in my mind that “Youth,” a story +which I had then, so to speak, on the tip of my pen, could _not_ wait. +Neither could “Heart of Darkness” be put off; for the practical reason +that Mr. Wm. Blackwood having requested me to write something for the +No. M of his magazine I had to stir up at once the subject of that tale +which had been long lying quiescent in my mind, because, obviously, the +venerable Maga at her patriarchal age of 1000 numbers could not be kept +waiting. Then “Lord Jim,” with about seventeen pages already written at +odd times, put in his claim which was irresistible. Thus every stroke +of the pen was taking me further away from the abandoned “Rescue,” not +without some compunction on my part but with a gradually diminishing +resistance; till at last I let myself go as if recognising a superior +influence against which it was useless to contend. + +The years passed and the pages grew in number, and the long reveries of +which they were the outcome stretched wide between me and the deserted +“Rescue” like the smooth hazy spaces of a dreamy sea. Yet I never +actually lost sight of that dark speck in the misty distance. It +had grown very small but it asserted itself with the appeal of old +associations. It seemed to me that it would be a base thing for me to +slip out of the world leaving it out there all alone, waiting for its +fate--that would never come? + +Sentiment, pure sentiment as you see, prompted me in the last instance +to face the pains and hazards of that return. As I moved slowly towards +the abandoned body of the tale it loomed up big amongst the glittering +shallows of the coast, lonely but not forbidding. There was nothing +about it of a grim derelict. It had an air of expectant life. One after +another I made out the familiar faces watching my approach with faint +smiles of amused recognition. They had known well enough that I was +bound to come back to them. But their eyes met mine seriously as was +only to be expected since I, myself, felt very serious as I stood +amongst them again after years of absence. At once, without wasting +words, we went to work together on our renewed life; and every moment +I felt more strongly that They Who had Waited bore no grudge to the man +who however widely he may have wandered at times had played truant only +once in his life. + +1920. J. C. + + + + +CONTENTS + +PART I. THE MAN AND THE BRIG + +PART II. THE SHORE OF REFUGE + +PART III. THE CAPTURE + +PART IV. THE GIFT OF THE SHALLOWS + +PART V. THE POINT OF HONOUR AND THE POINT OF PASSION + +PART VI. THE CLAIM OF LIFE AND THE TOLL OF DEATH + + + + +PART I. THE MAN AND THE BRIG + +The shallow sea that foams and murmurs on the shores of the thousand +islands, big and little, which make up the Malay Archipelago has been +for centuries the scene of adventurous undertakings. The vices and the +virtues of four nations have been displayed in the conquest of that +region that even to this day has not been robbed of all the mystery +and romance of its past--and the race of men who had fought against +the Portuguese, the Spaniards, the Dutch and the English, has not been +changed by the unavoidable defeat. They have kept to this day their +love of liberty, their fanatical devotion to their chiefs, their +blind fidelity in friendship and hate--all their lawful and unlawful +instincts. Their country of land and water--for the sea was as much +their country as the earth of their islands--has fallen a prey to the +western race--the reward of superior strength if not of superior virtue. +To-morrow the advancing civilization will obliterate the marks of a long +struggle in the accomplishment of its inevitable victory. + +The adventurers who began that struggle have left no descendants. The +ideas of the world changed too quickly for that. But even far into the +present century they have had successors. Almost in our own day we have +seen one of them--a true adventurer in his devotion to his impulse--a +man of high mind and of pure heart, lay the foundation of a flourishing +state on the ideas of pity and justice. He recognized chivalrously the +claims of the conquered; he was a disinterested adventurer, and the +reward of his noble instincts is in the veneration with which a strange +and faithful race cherish his memory. + +Misunderstood and traduced in life, the glory of his achievement has +vindicated the purity of his motives. He belongs to history. But there +were others--obscure adventurers who had not his advantages of birth, +position, and intelligence; who had only his sympathy with the people of +forests and sea he understood and loved so well. They can not be said +to be forgotten since they have not been known at all. They were lost +in the common crowd of seamen-traders of the Archipelago, and if +they emerged from their obscurity it was only to be condemned as +law-breakers. Their lives were thrown away for a cause that had no right +to exist in the face of an irresistible and orderly progress--their +thoughtless lives guided by a simple feeling. + +But the wasted lives, for the few who know, have tinged with romance the +region of shallow waters and forest-clad islands, that lies far east, +and still mysterious between the deep waters of two oceans. + + +I + +Out of the level blue of a shallow sea Carimata raises a lofty +barrenness of grey and yellow tints, the drab eminence of its arid +heights. Separated by a narrow strip of water, Suroeton, to the west, +shows a curved and ridged outline resembling the backbone of a stooping +giant. And to the eastward a troop of insignificant islets stand +effaced, indistinct, with vague features that seem to melt into the +gathering shadows. The night following from the eastward the retreat of +the setting sun advanced slowly, swallowing the land and the sea; the +land broken, tormented and abrupt; the sea smooth and inviting with its +easy polish of continuous surface to wanderings facile and endless. + +There was no wind, and a small brig that had lain all the afternoon a +few miles to the northward and westward of Carimata had hardly altered +its position half a mile during all these hours. The calm was absolute, +a dead, flat calm, the stillness of a dead sea and of a dead atmosphere. +As far as the eye could reach there was nothing but an impressive +immobility. Nothing moved on earth, on the waters, and above them in the +unbroken lustre of the sky. On the unruffled surface of the straits the +brig floated tranquil and upright as if bolted solidly, keel to keel, +with its own image reflected in the unframed and immense mirror of +the sea. To the south and east the double islands watched silently the +double ship that seemed fixed amongst them forever, a hopeless captive +of the calm, a helpless prisoner of the shallow sea. + +Since midday, when the light and capricious airs of these seas had +abandoned the little brig to its lingering fate, her head had swung +slowly to the westward and the end of her slender and polished jib-boom, +projecting boldly beyond the graceful curve of the bow, pointed at the +setting sun, like a spear poised high in the hand of an enemy. Right +aft by the wheel the Malay quartermaster stood with his bare, brown feet +firmly planted on the wheel-grating, and holding the spokes at right +angles, in a solid grasp, as though the ship had been running before a +gale. He stood there perfectly motionless, as if petrified but ready +to tend the helm as soon as fate would permit the brig to gather way +through the oily sea. + +The only other human being then visible on the brig's deck was the +person in charge: a white man of low stature, thick-set, with shaven +cheeks, a grizzled moustache, and a face tinted a scarlet hue by the +burning suns and by the sharp salt breezes of the seas. He had thrown +off his light jacket, and clad only in white trousers and a thin cotton +singlet, with his stout arms crossed on his breast--upon which they +showed like two thick lumps of raw flesh--he prowled about from side to +side of the half-poop. On his bare feet he wore a pair of straw sandals, +and his head was protected by an enormous pith hat--once white but now +very dirty--which gave to the whole man the aspect of a phenomenal +and animated mushroom. At times he would interrupt his uneasy shuffle +athwart the break of the poop, and stand motionless with a vague gaze +fixed on the image of the brig in the calm water. He could also see down +there his own head and shoulders leaning out over the rail and he would +stand long, as if interested by his own features, and mutter vague +curses on the calm which lay upon the ship like an immovable burden, +immense and burning. + +At last, he sighed profoundly, nerved himself for a great effort, and +making a start away from the rail managed to drag his slippers as far +as the binnacle. There he stopped again, exhausted and bored. From under +the lifted glass panes of the cabin skylight near by came the feeble +chirp of a canary, which appeared to give him some satisfaction. He +listened, smiled faintly muttered “Dicky, poor Dick--” and fell back +into the immense silence of the world. His eyes closed, his head hung +low over the hot brass of the binnacle top. Suddenly he stood up with a +jerk and said sharply in a hoarse voice: + +“You've been sleeping--you. Shift the helm. She has got stern way on +her.” + +The Malay, without the least flinch of feature or pose, as if he had +been an inanimate object called suddenly into life by some hidden magic +of the words, spun the wheel rapidly, letting the spokes pass through +his hands; and when the motion had stopped with a grinding noise, caught +hold again and held on grimly. After a while, however, he turned his +head slowly over his shoulder, glanced at the sea, and said in an +obstinate tone: + +“No catch wind--no get way.” + +“No catch--no catch--that's all you know about it,” growled the +red-faced seaman. “By and by catch Ali--” he went on with sudden +condescension. “By and by catch, and then the helm will be the right +way. See?” + +The stolid seacannie appeared to see, and for that matter to hear, +nothing. The white man looked at the impassive Malay with disgust, +then glanced around the horizon--then again at the helmsman and ordered +curtly: + +“Shift the helm back again. Don't you feel the air from aft? You are +like a dummy standing there.” + +The Malay revolved the spokes again with disdainful obedience, and the +red-faced man was moving forward grunting to himself, when through the +open skylight the hail “On deck there!” arrested him short, attentive, +and with a sudden change to amiability in the expression of his face. + +“Yes, sir,” he said, bending his ear toward the opening. “What's the +matter up there?” asked a deep voice from below. + +The red-faced man in a tone of surprise said: + +“Sir?” + +“I hear that rudder grinding hard up and hard down. What are you up to, +Shaw? Any wind?” + +“Ye-es,” drawled Shaw, putting his head down the skylight and speaking +into the gloom of the cabin. “I thought there was a light air, and--but +it's gone now. Not a breath anywhere under the heavens.” + +He withdrew his head and waited a while by the skylight, but heard +only the chirping of the indefatigable canary, a feeble twittering that +seemed to ooze through the drooping red blossoms of geraniums growing in +flower-pots under the glass panes. He strolled away a step or two before +the voice from down below called hurriedly: + +“Hey, Shaw? Are you there?” + +“Yes, Captain Lingard,” he answered, stepping back. “Have we drifted +anything this afternoon?” + +“Not an inch, sir, not an inch. We might as well have been at anchor.” + +“It's always so,” said the invisible Lingard. His voice changed its tone +as he moved in the cabin, and directly afterward burst out with a +clear intonation while his head appeared above the slide of the cabin +entrance: + +“Always so! The currents don't begin till it's dark, when a man can't +see against what confounded thing he is being drifted, and then the +breeze will come. Dead on end, too, I don't doubt.” + +Shaw moved his shoulders slightly. The Malay at the wheel, after making +a dive to see the time by the cabin clock through the skylight, rang a +double stroke on the small bell aft. Directly forward, on the main deck, +a shrill whistle arose long drawn, modulated, dying away softly. The +master of the brig stepped out of the companion upon the deck of his +vessel, glanced aloft at the yards laid dead square; then, from the +door-step, took a long, lingering look round the horizon. + +He was about thirty-five, erect and supple. He moved freely, more like +a man accustomed to stride over plains and hills, than like one who from +his earliest youth had been used to counteract by sudden swayings of his +body the rise and roll of cramped decks of small craft, tossed by the +caprice of angry or playful seas. + +He wore a grey flannel shirt, and his white trousers were held by a blue +silk scarf wound tightly round his narrow waist. He had come up only for +a moment, but finding the poop shaded by the main-topsail he remained +on deck bareheaded. The light chestnut hair curled close about his +well-shaped head, and the clipped beard glinted vividly when he passed +across a narrow strip of sunlight, as if every hair in it had been +a wavy and attenuated gold wire. His mouth was lost in the heavy +moustache; his nose was straight, short, slightly blunted at the end; +a broad band of deeper red stretched under the eyes, clung to the cheek +bones. The eyes gave the face its remarkable expression. The eyebrows, +darker than the hair, pencilled a straight line below the wide and +unwrinkled brow much whiter than the sunburnt face. The eyes, as if +glowing with the light of a hidden fire, had a red glint in their +greyness that gave a scrutinizing ardour to the steadiness of their +gaze. + +That man, once so well known, and now so completely forgotten amongst +the charming and heartless shores of the shallow sea, had amongst his +fellows the nickname of “Red-Eyed Tom.” He was proud of his luck but not +of his good sense. He was proud of his brig, of the speed of his craft, +which was reckoned the swiftest country vessel in those seas, and proud +of what she represented. + +She represented a run of luck on the Victorian goldfields; his sagacious +moderation; long days of planning, of loving care in building; the +great joy of his youth, the incomparable freedom of the seas; a perfect +because a wandering home; his independence, his love--and his anxiety. +He had often heard men say that Tom Lingard cared for nothing on earth +but for his brig--and in his thoughts he would smilingly correct the +statement by adding that he cared for nothing _living_ but the brig. + +To him she was as full of life as the great world. He felt her live in +every motion, in every roll, in every sway of her tapering masts, +of those masts whose painted trucks move forever, to a seaman's +eye, against the clouds or against the stars. To him she was always +precious--like old love; always desirable--like a strange woman; always +tender--like a mother; always faithful--like the favourite daughter of a +man's heart. + +For hours he would stand elbow on rail, his head in his hand and +listen--and listen in dreamy stillness to the cajoling and promising +whisper of the sea, that slipped past in vanishing bubbles along the +smooth black-painted sides of his craft. What passed in such moments +of thoughtful solitude through the mind of that child of generations of +fishermen from the coast of Devon, who like most of his class was +dead to the subtle voices, and blind to the mysterious aspects of the +world--the man ready for the obvious, no matter how startling, how +terrible or menacing, yet defenceless as a child before the shadowy +impulses of his own heart; what could have been the thoughts of such a +man, when once surrendered to a dreamy mood, it is difficult to say. + +No doubt he, like most of us, would be uplifted at times by the awakened +lyrism of his heart into regions charming, empty, and dangerous. But +also, like most of us, he was unaware of his barren journeys above the +interesting cares of this earth. Yet from these, no doubt absurd and +wasted moments, there remained on the man's daily life a tinge as that +of a glowing and serene half-light. It softened the outlines of his +rugged nature; and these moments kept close the bond between him and his +brig. + +He was aware that his little vessel could give him something not to be +had from anybody or anything in the world; something specially his own. +The dependence of that solid man of bone and muscle on that obedient +thing of wood and iron, acquired from that feeling the mysterious +dignity of love. She--the craft--had all the qualities of a living +thing: speed, obedience, trustworthiness, endurance, beauty, capacity +to do and to suffer--all but life. He--the man--was the inspirer of that +thing that to him seemed the most perfect of its kind. His will was +its will, his thought was its impulse, his breath was the breath of +its existence. He felt all this confusedly, without ever shaping this +feeling into the soundless formulas of thought. To him she was unique +and dear, this brig of three hundred and fourteen tons register--a +kingdom! + +And now, bareheaded and burly, he walked the deck of his kingdom with a +regular stride. He stepped out from the hip, swinging his arms with +the free motion of a man starting out for a fifteen-mile walk into open +country; yet at every twelfth stride he had to turn about sharply and +pace back the distance to the taffrail. + +Shaw, with his hands stuck in his waistband, had hooked himself with +both elbows to the rail, and gazed apparently at the deck between his +feet. In reality he was contemplating a little house with a tiny front +garden, lost in a maze of riverside streets in the east end of London. +The circumstance that he had not, as yet, been able to make the +acquaintance of his son--now aged eighteen months--worried him slightly, +and was the cause of that flight of his fancy into the murky atmosphere +of his home. But it was a placid flight followed by a quick return. +In less than two minutes he was back in the brig. “All there,” as his +saying was. He was proud of being always “all there.” + +He was abrupt in manner and grumpy in speech with the seamen. To his +successive captains, he was outwardly as deferential as he knew how, and +as a rule inwardly hostile--so very few seemed to him of the “all there” + kind. Of Lingard, with whom he had only been a short time--having been +picked up in Madras Roads out of a home ship, which he had to leave +after a thumping row with the master--he generally approved, although he +recognized with regret that this man, like most others, had some absurd +fads; he defined them as “bottom-upwards notions.” + +He was a man--as there were many--of no particular value to anybody but +himself, and of no account but as the chief mate of the brig, and the +only white man on board of her besides the captain. He felt himself +immeasurably superior to the Malay seamen whom he had to handle, and +treated them with lofty toleration, notwithstanding his opinion that at +a pinch those chaps would be found emphatically “not there.” + +As soon as his mind came back from his home leave, he detached himself +from the rail and, walking forward, stood by the break of the poop, +looking along the port side of the main deck. Lingard on his own side +stopped in his walk and also gazed absentmindedly before him. In the +waist of the brig, in the narrow spars that were lashed on each side of +the hatchway, he could see a group of men squatting in a circle around a +wooden tray piled up with rice, which stood on the just swept deck. +The dark-faced, soft-eyed silent men, squatting on their hams, fed +decorously with an earnestness that did not exclude reserve. + +Of the lot, only one or two wore sarongs, the others having +submitted--at least at sea--to the indignity of European trousers. Only +two sat on the spars. One, a man with a childlike, light yellow face, +smiling with fatuous imbecility under the wisps of straight coarse hair +dyed a mahogany tint, was the tindal of the crew--a kind of boatswain's +or serang's mate. The other, sitting beside him on the booms, was a +man nearly black, not much bigger than a large ape, and wearing on +his wrinkled face that look of comical truculence which is often +characteristic of men from the southwestern coast of Sumatra. + +This was the kassab or store-keeper, the holder of a position of dignity +and ease. The kassab was the only one of the crew taking their evening +meal who noticed the presence on deck of their commander. He muttered +something to the tindal who directly cocked his old hat on one +side, which senseless action invested him with an altogether foolish +appearance. The others heard, but went on somnolently feeding with +spidery movements of their lean arms. + +The sun was no more than a degree or so above the horizon, and from the +heated surface of the waters a slight low mist began to rise; a mist +thin, invisible to the human eye; yet strong enough to change the sun +into a mere glowing red disc, a disc vertical and hot, rolling down to +the edge of the horizontal and cold-looking disc of the shining sea. +Then the edges touched and the circular expanse of water took on +suddenly a tint, sombre, like a frown; deep, like the brooding +meditation of evil. + +The falling sun seemed to be arrested for a moment in his descent by the +sleeping waters, while from it, to the motionless brig, shot out on +the polished and dark surface of the sea a track of light, straight and +shining, resplendent and direct; a path of gold and crimson and purple, +a path that seemed to lead dazzling and terrible from the earth straight +into heaven through the portals of a glorious death. It faded slowly. +The sea vanquished the light. At last only a vestige of the sun +remained, far off, like a red spark floating on the water. It lingered, +and all at once--without warning--went out as if extinguished by a +treacherous hand. + +“Gone,” cried Lingard, who had watched intently yet missed the last +moment. “Gone! Look at the cabin clock, Shaw!” + +“Nearly right, I think, sir. Three minutes past six.” + +The helmsman struck four bells sharply. Another barefooted seacannie +glided on the far side of the poop to relieve the wheel, and the serang +of the brig came up the ladder to take charge of the deck from Shaw. He +came up to the compass, and stood waiting silently. + +“The course is south by east when you get the wind, serang,” said Shaw, +distinctly. + +“Sou' by eas',” repeated the elderly Malay with grave earnestness. + +“Let me know when she begins to steer,” added Lingard. + +“Ya, Tuan,” answered the man, glancing rapidly at the sky. “Wind +coming,” he muttered. + +“I think so, too,” whispered Lingard as if to himself. + +The shadows were gathering rapidly round the brig. A mulatto put his +head out of the companion and called out: + +“Ready, sir.” + +“Let's get a mouthful of something to eat, Shaw,” said Lingard. “I say, +just take a look around before coming below. It will be dark when we +come up again.” + +“Certainly, sir,” said Shaw, taking up a long glass and putting it to +his eyes. “Blessed thing,” he went on in snatches while he worked the +tubes in and out, “I can't--never somehow--Ah! I've got it right at +last!” + +He revolved slowly on his heels, keeping the end of the tube on the +sky-line. Then he shut the instrument with a click, and said decisively: + +“Nothing in sight, sir.” + +He followed his captain down below rubbing his hands cheerfully. + +For a good while there was no sound on the poop of the brig. Then the +seacannie at the wheel spoke dreamily: + +“Did the malim say there was no one on the sea?” + +“Yes,” grunted the serang without looking at the man behind him. + +“Between the islands there was a boat,” pronounced the man very softly. + +The serang, his hands behind his back, his feet slightly apart, stood +very straight and stiff by the side of the compass stand. His face, now +hardly visible, was as inexpressive as the door of a safe. + +“Now, listen to me,” insisted the helmsman in a gentle tone. + +The man in authority did not budge a hair's breadth. The seacannie bent +down a little from the height of the wheel grating. + +“I saw a boat,” he murmured with something of the tender obstinacy of +a lover begging for a favour. “I saw a boat, O Haji Wasub! Ya! Haji +Wasub!” + +The serang had been twice a pilgrim, and was not insensible to the sound +of his rightful title. There was a grim smile on his face. + +“You saw a floating tree, O Sali,” he said, ironically. + +“I am Sali, and my eyes are better than the bewitched brass thing that +pulls out to a great length,” said the pertinacious helmsman. “There was +a boat, just clear of the easternmost island. There was a boat, and +they in her could see the ship on the light of the west--unless they are +blind men lost on the sea. I have seen her. Have you seen her, too, O +Haji Wasub?” + +“Am I a fat white man?” snapped the serang. “I was a man of the sea +before you were born, O Sali! The order is to keep silence and mind the +rudder, lest evil befall the ship.” + +After these words he resumed his rigid aloofness. He stood, his legs +slightly apart, very stiff and straight, a little on one side of the +compass stand. His eyes travelled incessantly from the illuminated card +to the shadowy sails of the brig and back again, while his body was +motionless as if made of wood and built into the ship's frame. Thus, +with a forced and tense watchfulness, Haji Wasub, serang of the brig +Lightning, kept the captain's watch unwearied and wakeful, a slave to +duty. + +In half an hour after sunset the darkness had taken complete possession +of earth and heavens. The islands had melted into the night. And on the +smooth water of the Straits, the little brig lying so still, seemed +to sleep profoundly, wrapped up in a scented mantle of star light and +silence. + + + +II + +It was half-past eight o'clock before Lingard came on deck again. +Shaw--now with a coat on--trotted up and down the poop leaving behind +him a smell of tobacco smoke. An irregularly glowing spark seemed to run +by itself in the darkness before the rounded form of his head. Above the +masts of the brig the dome of the clear heaven was full of lights that +flickered, as if some mighty breathings high up there had been swaying +about the flame of the stars. There was no sound along the brig's decks, +and the heavy shadows that lay on it had the aspect, in that silence, +of secret places concealing crouching forms that waited in perfect +stillness for some decisive event. Lingard struck a match to light his +cheroot, and his powerful face with narrowed eyes stood out for a moment +in the night and vanished suddenly. Then two shadowy forms and two red +sparks moved backward and forward on the poop. A larger, but a paler +and oval patch of light from the compass lamps lay on the brasses of +the wheel and on the breast of the Malay standing by the helm. Lingard's +voice, as if unable altogether to master the enormous silence of the +sea, sounded muffled, very calm--without the usual deep ring in it. + +“Not much change, Shaw,” he said. + +“No, sir, not much. I can just see the island--the big one--still in +the same place. It strikes me, sir, that, for calms, this here sea is a +devil of locality.” + +He cut “locality” in two with an emphatic pause. It was a good word. He +was pleased with himself for thinking of it. He went on again: + +“Now--since noon, this big island--” + +“Carimata, Shaw,” interrupted Lingard. + +“Aye, sir; Carimata--I mean. I must say--being a stranger hereabouts--I +haven't got the run of those--” + +He was going to say “names” but checked himself and said, +“appellations,” instead, sounding every syllable lovingly. + +“Having for these last fifteen years,” he continued, “sailed regularly +from London in East-Indiamen, I am more at home over there--in the Bay.” + +He pointed into the night toward the northwest and stared as if he could +see from where he stood that Bay of Bengal where--as he affirmed--he +would be so much more at home. + +“You'll soon get used--” muttered Lingard, swinging in his rapid walk +past his mate. Then he turned round, came back, and asked sharply. + +“You said there was nothing afloat in sight before dark? Hey?” + +“Not that I could see, sir. When I took the deck again at eight, I asked +that serang whether there was anything about; and I understood him to +say there was no more as when I went below at six. This is a lonely sea +at times--ain't it, sir? Now, one would think at this time of the year +the homeward-bounders from China would be pretty thick here.” + +“Yes,” said Lingard, “we have met very few ships since we left Pedra +Branca over the stern. Yes; it has been a lonely sea. But for all that, +Shaw, this sea, if lonely, is not blind. Every island in it is an eye. +And now, since our squadron has left for the China waters--” + +He did not finish his sentence. Shaw put his hands in his pockets, and +propped his back against the sky-light, comfortably. + +“They say there is going to be a war with China,” he said in a gossiping +tone, “and the French are going along with us as they did in the Crimea +five years ago. It seems to me we're getting mighty good friends with +the French. I've not much of an opinion about that. What do you think, +Captain Lingard?” + +“I have met their men-of-war in the Pacific,” said Lingard, slowly. “The +ships were fine and the fellows in them were civil enough to me--and +very curious about my business,” he added with a laugh. “However, I +wasn't there to make war on them. I had a rotten old cutter then, for +trade, Shaw,” he went on with animation. + +“Had you, sir?” said Shaw without any enthusiasm. “Now give me a big +ship--a ship, I say, that one may--” + +“And later on, some years ago,” interrupted Lingard, “I chummed with +a French skipper in Ampanam--being the only two white men in the whole +place. He was a good fellow, and free with his red wine. His English +was difficult to understand, but he could sing songs in his own language +about ah-moor--Ah-moor means love, in French--Shaw.” + +“So it does, sir--so it does. When I was second mate of a Sunderland +barque, in forty-one, in the Mediterranean, I could pay out their lingo +as easy as you would a five-inch warp over a ship's side--” + +“Yes, he was a proper man,” pursued Lingard, meditatively, as if for +himself only. “You could not find a better fellow for company ashore. He +had an affair with a Bali girl, who one evening threw a red blossom at +him from within a doorway, as we were going together to pay our respects +to the Rajah's nephew. He was a good-looking Frenchman, he was--but the +girl belonged to the Rajah's nephew, and it was a serious matter. The +old Rajah got angry and said the girl must die. I don't think the nephew +cared particularly to have her krissed; but the old fellow made a great +fuss and sent one of his own chief men to see the thing done--and the +girl had enemies--her own relations approved! We could do nothing. Mind, +Shaw, there was absolutely nothing else between them but that unlucky +flower which the Frenchman pinned to his coat--and afterward, when the +girl was dead, wore under his shirt, hung round his neck in a small box. +I suppose he had nothing else to put it into.” + +“Would those savages kill a woman for that?” asked Shaw, incredulously. + +“Aye! They are pretty moral there. That was the first time in my life +I nearly went to war on my own account, Shaw. We couldn't talk those +fellows over. We couldn't bribe them, though the Frenchman offered the +best he had, and I was ready to back him to the last dollar, to the last +rag of cotton, Shaw! No use--they were that blamed respectable. So, says +the Frenchman to me: 'My friend, if they won't take our gunpowder for a +gift let us burn it to give them lead.' I was armed as you see now; +six eight-pounders on the main deck and a long eighteen on the +forecastle--and I wanted to try 'em. You may believe me! However, the +Frenchman had nothing but a few old muskets; and the beggars got to +windward of us by fair words, till one morning a boat's crew from the +Frenchman's ship found the girl lying dead on the beach. That put an end +to our plans. She was out of her trouble anyhow, and no reasonable man +will fight for a dead woman. I was never vengeful, Shaw, and--after +all--she didn't throw that flower at me. But it broke the Frenchman up +altogether. He began to mope, did no business, and shortly afterward +sailed away. I cleared a good many pence out of that trip, I remember.” + +With these words he seemed to come to the end of his memories of that +trip. Shaw stifled a yawn. + +“Women are the cause of a lot of trouble,” he said, dispassionately. +“In the Morayshire, I remember, we had once a passenger--an old +gentleman--who was telling us a yarn about them old-time Greeks fighting +for ten years about some woman. The Turks kidnapped her, or something. +Anyway, they fought in Turkey; which I may well believe. Them Greeks and +Turks were always fighting. My father was master's mate on board one of +the three-deckers at the battle of Navarino--and that was when we went +to help those Greeks. But this affair about a woman was long before that +time.” + +“I should think so,” muttered Lingard, hanging over the rail, and +watching the fleeting gleams that passed deep down in the water, along +the ship's bottom. + +“Yes. Times are changed. They were unenlightened in those old days. My +grandfather was a preacher and, though my father served in the navy, I +don't hold with war. Sinful the old gentleman called it--and I think so, +too. Unless with Chinamen, or niggers, or such people as must be kept in +order and won't listen to reason; having not sense enough to know +what's good for them, when it's explained to them by their +betters--missionaries, and such like au-tho-ri-ties. But to fight ten +years. And for a woman!” + +“I have read the tale in a book,” said Lingard, speaking down over the +side as if setting his words gently afloat upon the sea. “I have read +the tale. She was very beautiful.” + +“That only makes it worse, sir--if anything. You may depend on it she +was no good. Those pagan times will never come back, thank God. Ten +years of murder and unrighteousness! And for a woman! Would anybody do +it now? Would you do it, sir? Would you--” + +The sound of a bell struck sharply interrupted Shaw's discourse. High +aloft, some dry block sent out a screech, short and lamentable, like a +cry of pain. It pierced the quietness of the night to the very core, and +seemed to destroy the reserve which it had imposed upon the tones of the +two men, who spoke now loudly. + +“Throw the cover over the binnacle,” said Lingard in his duty voice. +“The thing shines like a full moon. We mustn't show more lights than we +can help, when becalmed at night so near the land. No use in being seen +if you can't see yourself--is there? Bear that in mind, Mr. Shaw. There +may be some vagabonds prying about--” + +“I thought all this was over and done for,” said Shaw, busying himself +with the cover, “since Sir Thomas Cochrane swept along the Borneo coast +with his squadron some years ago. He did a rare lot of fighting--didn't +he? We heard about it from the chaps of the sloop Diana that was +refitting in Calcutta when I was there in the Warwick Castle. They took +some king's town up a river hereabouts. The chaps were full of it.” + +“Sir Thomas did good work,” answered Lingard, “but it will be a long +time before these seas are as safe as the English Channel is in peace +time. I spoke about that light more to get you in the way of things to +be attended to in these seas than for anything else. Did you notice how +few native craft we've sighted for all these days we have been drifting +about--one may say--in this sea?” + +“I can't say I have attached any significance to the fact, sir.” + +“It's a sign that something is up. Once set a rumour afloat in these +waters, and it will make its way from island to island, without any +breeze to drive it along.” + +“Being myself a deep-water man sailing steadily out of home ports nearly +all my life,” said Shaw with great deliberation, “I cannot pretend to +see through the peculiarities of them out-of-the-way parts. But I can +keep a lookout in an ordinary way, and I have noticed that craft of any +kind seemed scarce, for the last few days: considering that we had land +aboard of us--one side or another--nearly every day.” + +“You will get to know the peculiarities, as you call them, if you remain +any time with me,” remarked Lingard, negligently. + +“I hope I shall give satisfaction, whether the time be long or short!” + said Shaw, accentuating the meaning of his words by the distinctness +of his utterance. “A man who has spent thirty-two years of his life on +saltwater can say no more. If being an officer of home ships for the +last fifteen years I don't understand the heathen ways of them there +savages, in matters of seamanship and duty, you will find me all there, +Captain Lingard.” + +“Except, judging from what you said a little while ago--except in the +matter of fighting,” said Lingard, with a short laugh. + +“Fighting! I am not aware that anybody wants to fight me. I am a +peaceable man, Captain Lingard, but when put to it, I could fight as +well as any of them flat-nosed chaps we have to make shift with, instead +of a proper crew of decent Christians. Fighting!” he went on with +unexpected pugnacity of tone, “Fighting! If anybody comes to fight me, +he will find me all there, I swear!” + +“That's all right. That's all right,” said Lingard, stretching his arms +above his head and wriggling his shoulders. “My word! I do wish a breeze +would come to let us get away from here. I am rather in a hurry, Shaw.” + +“Indeed, sir! Well, I never yet met a thorough seafaring man who was not +in a hurry when a con-demned spell of calm had him by the heels. When a +breeze comes . . . just listen to this, sir!” + +“I hear it,” said Lingard. “Tide-rip, Shaw.” + +“So I presume, sir. But what a fuss it makes. Seldom heard such a--” + +On the sea, upon the furthest limits of vision, appeared an advancing +streak of seething foam, resembling a narrow white ribbon, drawn rapidly +along the level surface of the water by its two ends, which were lost in +the darkness. It reached the brig, passed under, stretching out on each +side; and on each side the water became noisy, breaking into numerous +and tiny wavelets, a mimicry of an immense agitation. Yet the vessel in +the midst of this sudden and loud disturbance remained as motionless and +steady as if she had been securely moored between the stone walls of a +safe dock. In a few moments the line of foam and ripple running swiftly +north passed at once beyond sight and earshot, leaving no trace on the +unconquerable calm. + +“Now this is very curious--” began Shaw. + +Lingard made a gesture to command silence. He seemed to listen yet, as +if the wash of the ripple could have had an echo which he expected to +hear. And a man's voice that was heard forward had something of the +impersonal ring of voices thrown back from hard and lofty cliffs upon +the empty distances of the sea. It spoke in Malay--faintly. + +“What?” hailed Shaw. “What is it?” + +Lingard put a restraining hand for a moment on his chief officer's +shoulder, and moved forward smartly. Shaw followed, puzzled. The rapid +exchange of incomprehensible words thrown backward and forward through +the shadows of the brig's main deck from his captain to the lookout man +and back again, made him feel sadly out of it, somehow. + +Lingard had called out sharply--“What do you see?” The answer direct and +quick was--“I hear, Tuan. I hear oars.” + +“Whereabouts?” + +“The night is all around us. I hear them near.” + +“Port or starboard?” + +There was a short delay in answer this time. On the quarter-deck, +under the poop, bare feet shuffled. Somebody coughed. At last the voice +forward said doubtfully: + +“Kanan.” + +“Call the serang, Mr. Shaw,” said Lingard, calmly, “and have the hands +turned up. They are all lying about the decks. Look sharp now. There's +something near us. It's annoying to be caught like this,” he added in a +vexed tone. + +He crossed over to the starboard side, and stood listening, one hand +grasping the royal back-stay, his ear turned to the sea, but he could +hear nothing from there. The quarter-deck was filled with subdued +sounds. Suddenly, a long, shrill whistle soared, reverberated loudly +amongst the flat surfaces of motionless sails, and gradually grew faint +as if the sound had escaped and gone away, running upon the water. Haji +Wasub was on deck and ready to carry out the white man's commands. Then +silence fell again on the brig, until Shaw spoke quietly. + +“I am going forward now, sir, with the tindal. We're all at stations.” + +“Aye, Mr. Shaw. Very good. Mind they don't board you--but I can hear +nothing. Not a sound. It can't be much.” + +“The fellow has been dreaming, no doubt. I have good ears, too, and--” + +He went forward and the end of his sentence was lost in an indistinct +growl. Lingard stood attentive. One by one the three seacannies off duty +appeared on the poop and busied themselves around a big chest that stood +by the side of the cabin companion. A rattle and clink of steel weapons +turned out on the deck was heard, but the men did not even whisper. +Lingard peered steadily into the night, then shook his head. + +“Serang!” he called, half aloud. + +The spare old man ran up the ladder so smartly that his bony feet did +not seem to touch the steps. He stood by his commander, his hands behind +his back; a figure indistinct but straight as an arrow. + +“Who was looking out?” asked Lingard. + +“Badroon, the Bugis,” said Wasub, in his crisp, jerky manner. + +“I can hear nothing. Badroon heard the noise in his mind.” + +“The night hides the boat.” + +“Have you seen it?” + +“Yes, Tuan. Small boat. Before sunset. By the land. Now coming +here--near. Badroon heard him.” + +“Why didn't you report it, then?” asked Lingard, sharply. + +“Malim spoke. He said: 'Nothing there,' while I could see. How could I +know what was in his mind or yours, Tuan?” + +“Do you hear anything now?” + +“No. They stopped now. Perhaps lost the ship--who knows? Perhaps +afraid--” + +“Well!” muttered Lingard, moving his feet uneasily. “I believe you lie. +What kind of boat?” + +“White men's boat. A four-men boat, I think. Small. Tuan, I hear him +now! There!” + +He stretched his arm straight out, pointing abeam for a time, then his +arm fell slowly. + +“Coming this way,” he added with decision. + +From forward Shaw called out in a startled tone: + +“Something on the water, sir! Broad on this bow!” + +“All right!” called back Lingard. + +A lump of blacker darkness floated into his view. From it came over the +water English words--deliberate, reaching him one by one; as if each had +made its own difficult way through the profound stillness of the night. + +“What--ship--is--that--pray?” + +“English brig,” answered Lingard, after a short moment of hesitation. + +“A brig! I thought you were something bigger,” went on the voice from +the sea with a tinge of disappointment in its deliberate tone. “I am +coming alongside--if--you--please.” + +“No! you don't!” called Lingard back, sharply. The leisurely drawl of +the invisible speaker seemed to him offensive, and woke up a hostile +feeling. “No! you don't if you care for your boat. Where do you spring +from? Who are you--anyhow? How many of you are there in that boat?” + +After these emphatic questions there was an interval of silence. During +that time the shape of the boat became a little more distinct. She must +have carried some way on her yet, for she loomed up bigger and nearly +abreast of where Lingard stood, before the self-possessed voice was +heard again: + +“I will show you.” + +Then, after another short pause, the voice said, less loud but very +plain: + +“Strike on the gunwale. Strike hard, John!” and suddenly a blue light +blazed out, illuminating with a livid flame a round patch in the +night. In the smoke and splutter of that ghastly halo appeared a white, +four-oared gig with five men sitting in her in a row. Their heads were +turned toward the brig with a strong expression of curiosity on their +faces, which, in this glare, brilliant and sinister, took on a deathlike +aspect and resembled the faces of interested corpses. Then the bowman +dropped into the water the light he held above his head and the +darkness, rushing back at the boat, swallowed it with a loud and angry +hiss. + +“Five of us,” said the composed voice out of the night that seemed now +darker than before. “Four hands and myself. We belong to a yacht--a +British yacht--” + +“Come on board!” shouted Lingard. “Why didn't you speak at once? I +thought you might have been some masquerading Dutchmen from a dodging +gunboat.” + +“Do I speak like a blamed Dutchman? Pull a stroke, boys--oars! Tend bow, +John.” + +The boat came alongside with a gentle knock, and a man's shape began to +climb at once up the brig's side with a kind of ponderous agility. It +poised itself for a moment on the rail to say down into the boat--“Sheer +off a little, boys,” then jumped on deck with a thud, and said to Shaw +who was coming aft: “Good evening . . . Captain, sir?” + +“No. On the poop!” growled Shaw. + +“Come up here. Come up,” called Lingard, impatiently. + +The Malays had left their stations and stood clustered by the mainmast +in a silent group. Not a word was spoken on the brig's decks, while the +stranger made his way to the waiting captain. Lingard saw approaching +him a short, dapper man, who touched his cap and repeated his greeting +in a cool drawl: + +“Good evening. . . Captain, sir?” + +“Yes, I am the master--what's the matter? Adrift from your ship? Or +what?” + +“Adrift? No! We left her four days ago, and have been pulling that gig +in a calm, nearly ever since. My men are done. So is the water. Lucky +thing I sighted you.” + +“You sighted me!” exclaimed Lingard. “When? What time?” + +“Not in the dark, you may be sure. We've been knocking about amongst +some islands to the southward, breaking our hearts tugging at the oars +in one channel, then in another--trying to get clear. We got round an +islet--a barren thing, in shape like a loaf of sugar--and I caught sight +of a vessel a long way off. I took her bearing in a hurry and we buckled +to; but another of them currents must have had hold of us, for it was a +long time before we managed to clear that islet. I steered by the +stars, and, by the Lord Harry, I began to think I had missed you +somehow--because it must have been you I saw.” + +“Yes, it must have been. We had nothing in sight all day,” assented +Lingard. “Where's your vessel?” he asked, eagerly. + +“Hard and fast on middling soft mud--I should think about sixty miles +from here. We are the second boat sent off for assistance. We parted +company with the other on Tuesday. She must have passed to the northward +of you to-day. The chief officer is in her with orders to make for +Singapore. I am second, and was sent off toward the Straits here on the +chance of falling in with some ship. I have a letter from the owner. Our +gentry are tired of being stuck in the mud and wish for assistance.” + +“What assistance did you expect to find down here?” + +“The letter will tell you that. May I ask, Captain, for a little water +for the chaps in my boat? And I myself would thank you for a drink. +We haven't had a mouthful since this afternoon. Our breaker leaked out +somehow.” + +“See to it, Mr. Shaw,” said Lingard. “Come down the cabin, Mr.--” + +“Carter is my name.” + +“Ah! Mr. Carter. Come down, come down,” went on Lingard, leading the way +down the cabin stairs. + +The steward had lighted the swinging lamp, and had put a decanter and +bottles on the table. The cuddy looked cheerful, painted white, with +gold mouldings round the panels. Opposite the curtained recess of the +stern windows there was a sideboard with a marble top, and, above it, +a looking-glass in a gilt frame. The semicircular couch round the stern +had cushions of crimson plush. The table was covered with a black +Indian tablecloth embroidered in vivid colours. Between the beams of the +poop-deck were fitted racks for muskets, the barrels of which glinted +in the light. There were twenty-four of them between the four beams. As +many sword-bayonets of an old pattern encircled the polished teakwood of +the rudder-casing with a double belt of brass and steel. All the doors +of the state-rooms had been taken off the hinges and only curtains +closed the doorways. They seemed to be made of yellow Chinese silk, and +fluttered all together, the four of them, as the two men entered the +cuddy. + +Carter took in all at a glance, but his eyes were arrested by a circular +shield hung slanting above the brass hilts of the bayonets. On its +red field, in relief and brightly gilt, was represented a sheaf of +conventional thunderbolts darting down the middle between the two +capitals T. L. Lingard examined his guest curiously. He saw a young +man, but looking still more youthful, with a boyish smooth face much +sunburnt, twinkling blue eyes, fair hair and a slight moustache. He +noticed his arrested gaze. + +“Ah, you're looking at that thing. It's a present from the builder of +this brig. The best man that ever launched a craft. It's supposed to be +the ship's name between my initials--flash of lightning--d'you see? The +brig's name is Lightning and mine is Lingard.” + +“Very pretty thing that: shows the cabin off well,” murmured Carter, +politely. + +They drank, nodding at each other, and sat down. + +“Now for the letter,” said Lingard. + +Carter passed it over the table and looked about, while Lingard took +the letter out of an open envelope, addressed to the commander of any +British ship in the Java Sea. The paper was thick, had an embossed +heading: “Schooner-yacht Hermit” and was dated four days before. The +message said that on a hazy night the yacht had gone ashore upon some +outlying shoals off the coast of Borneo. The land was low. The opinion +of the sailing-master was that the vessel had gone ashore at the top +of high water, spring tides. The coast was completely deserted to all +appearance. During the four days they had been stranded there they +had sighted in the distance two small native vessels, which did +not approach. The owner concluded by asking any commander of a +homeward-bound ship to report the yacht's position in Anjer on his way +through Sunda Straits--or to any British or Dutch man-of-war he might +meet. The letter ended by anticipatory thanks, the offer to pay any +expenses in connection with the sending of messages from Anjer, and the +usual polite expressions. + +Folding the paper slowly in the old creases, Lingard said--“I am not +going to Anjer--nor anywhere near.” + +“Any place will do, I fancy,” said Carter. + +“Not the place where I am bound to,” answered Lingard, opening the +letter again and glancing at it uneasily. “He does not describe very +well the coast, and his latitude is very uncertain,” he went on. “I +am not clear in my mind where exactly you are stranded. And yet I know +every inch of that land--over there.” + +Carter cleared his throat and began to talk in his slow drawl. He seemed +to dole out facts, to disclose with sparing words the features of the +coast, but every word showed the minuteness of his observation, the +clear vision of a seaman able to master quickly the aspect of a strange +land and of a strange sea. He presented, with concise lucidity, the +picture of the tangle of reefs and sandbanks, through which the yacht +had miraculously blundered in the dark before she took the ground. + +“The weather seems clear enough at sea,” he observed, finally, and +stopped to drink a long draught. Lingard, bending over the table, had +been listening with eager attention. Carter went on in his curt and +deliberate manner: + +“I noticed some high trees on what I take to be the mainland to the +south--and whoever has business in that bight was smart enough to +whitewash two of them: one on the point, and another farther in. +Landmarks, I guess. . . . What's the matter, Captain?” + +Lingard had jumped to his feet, but Carter's exclamation caused him to +sit down again. + +“Nothing, nothing . . . Tell me, how many men have you in that yacht?” + +“Twenty-three, besides the gentry, the owner, his wife and a Spanish +gentleman--a friend they picked up in Manila.” + +“So you were coming from Manila?” + +“Aye. Bound for Batavia. The owner wishes to study the Dutch colonial +system. Wants to expose it, he says. One can't help hearing a lot when +keeping watch aft--you know how it is. Then we are going to Ceylon +to meet the mail-boat there. The owner is going home as he came out, +overland through Egypt. The yacht would return round the Cape, of +course.” + +“A lady?” said Lingard. “You say there is a lady on board. Are you +armed?” + +“Not much,” replied Carter, negligently. “There are a few muskets and +two sporting guns aft; that's about all--I fancy it's too much, or not +enough,” he added with a faint smile. + +Lingard looked at him narrowly. + +“Did you come out from home in that craft?” he asked. + +“Not I! I am not one of them regular yacht hands. I came out of the +hospital in Hongkong. I've been two years on the China coast.” + +He stopped, then added in an explanatory murmur: + +“Opium clippers--you know. Nothing of brass buttons about me. My ship +left me behind, and I was in want of work. I took this job but I didn't +want to go home particularly. It's slow work after sailing with old +Robinson in the Ly-e-moon. That was my ship. Heard of her, Captain?” + +“Yes, yes,” said Lingard, hastily. “Look here, Mr. Carter, which way was +your chief officer trying for Singapore? Through the Straits of Rhio?” + +“I suppose so,” answered Carter in a slightly surprised tone; “why do +you ask?” + +“Just to know . . . What is it, Mr. Shaw?” + +“There's a black cloud rising to the northward, sir, and we shall get a +breeze directly,” said Shaw from the doorway. + +He lingered there with his eyes fixed on the decanters. + +“Will you have a glass?” said Lingard, leaving his seat. “I will go up +and have a look.” + +He went on deck. Shaw approached the table and began to help himself, +handling the bottles in profound silence and with exaggerated caution, +as if he had been measuring out of fragile vessels a dose of some deadly +poison. Carter, his hands in his pockets, and leaning back, examined +him from head to foot with a cool stare. The mate of the brig raised the +glass to his lips, and glaring above the rim at the stranger, drained +the contents slowly. + +“You have a fine nose for finding ships in the dark, Mister,” he said, +distinctly, putting the glass on the table with extreme gentleness. + +“Eh? What's that? I sighted you just after sunset.” + +“And you knew where to look, too,” said Shaw, staring hard. + +“I looked to the westward where there was still some light, as any +sensible man would do,” retorted the other a little impatiently. “What +are you trying to get at?” + +“And you have a ready tongue to blow about yourself--haven't you?” + +“Never saw such a man in my life,” declared Carter, with a return of his +nonchalant manner. “You seem to be troubled about something.” + +“I don't like boats to come sneaking up from nowhere in particular, +alongside a ship when I am in charge of the deck. I can keep a lookout +as well as any man out of home ports, but I hate to be circumvented by +muffled oars and such ungentlemanlike tricks. Yacht officer--indeed. +These seas must be full of such yachtsmen. I consider you played a mean +trick on me. I told my old man there was nothing in sight at sunset--and +no more there was. I believe you blundered upon us by chance--for all +your boasting about sunsets and bearings. Gammon! I know you came +on blindly on top of us, and with muffled oars, too. D'ye call that +decent?” + +“If I did muffle the oars it was for a good reason. I wanted to slip +past a cove where some native craft were moored. That was common +prudence in such a small boat, and not armed--as I am. I saw you right +enough, but I had no intention to startle anybody. Take my word for it.” + +“I wish you had gone somewhere else,” growled Shaw. “I hate to be put in +the wrong through accident and untruthfulness--there! Here's my old man +calling me--” + +He left the cabin hurriedly and soon afterward Lingard came down, +and sat again facing Carter across the table. His face was grave but +resolute. + +“We shall get the breeze directly,” he said. + +“Then, sir,” said Carter, getting up, “if you will give me back that +letter I shall go on cruising about here to speak some other ship. I +trust you will report us wherever you are going.” + +“I am going to the yacht and I shall keep the letter,” answered Lingard +with decision. “I know exactly where she is, and I must go to the rescue +of those people. It's most fortunate you've fallen in with me, Mr. +Carter. Fortunate for them and fortunate for me,” he added in a lower +tone. + +“Yes,” drawled Carter, reflectively. “There may be a tidy bit of salvage +money if you should get the vessel off, but I don't think you can do +much. I had better stay out here and try to speak some gunboat--” + +“You must come back to your ship with me,” said Lingard, +authoritatively. “Never mind the gunboats.” + +“That wouldn't be carrying out my orders,” argued Carter. “I've got to +speak a homeward-bound ship or a man-of-war--that's plain enough. I am +not anxious to knock about for days in an open boat, but--let me fill my +fresh-water breaker, Captain, and I will be off.” + +“Nonsense,” said Lingard, sharply. “You've got to come with me to show +the place and--and help. I'll take your boat in tow.” + +Carter did not seem convinced. Lingard laid a heavy hand on his +shoulder. + +“Look here, young fellow. I am Tom Lingard and there's not a white man +among these islands, and very few natives, that have not heard of me. My +luck brought you into my ship--and now I've got you, you must stay. You +must!” + +The last “must” burst out loud and sharp like a pistol-shot. Carter +stepped back. + +“Do you mean you would keep me by force?” he asked, startled. + +“Force,” repeated Lingard. “It rests with you. I cannot let you speak +any vessel. Your yacht has gone ashore in a most inconvenient place--for +me; and with your boats sent off here and there, you would bring every +infernal gunboat buzzing to a spot that was as quiet and retired as the +heart of man could wish. You stranding just on that spot of the whole +coast was my bad luck. And that I could not help. You coming upon me +like this is my good luck. And that I hold!” + +He dropped his clenched fist, big and muscular, in the light of the +lamp on the black cloth, amongst the glitter of glasses, with the strong +fingers closed tight upon the firm flesh of the palm. He left it there +for a moment as if showing Carter that luck he was going to hold. And he +went on: + +“Do you know into what hornet's nest your stupid people have blundered? +How much d'ye think their lives are worth, just now? Not a brass +farthing if the breeze fails me for another twenty-four hours. You may +well open your eyes. It is so! And it may be too late now, while I am +arguing with you here.” + +He tapped the table with his knuckles, and the glasses, waking up, +jingled a thin, plaintive finale to his speech. Carter stood leaning +against the sideboard. He was amazed by the unexpected turn of the +conversation; his jaw dropped slightly and his eyes never swerved for a +moment from Lingard's face. The silence in the cabin lasted only a few +seconds, but to Carter, who waited breathlessly, it seemed very long. +And all at once he heard in it, for the first time, the cabin clock tick +distinctly, in pulsating beats, as though a little heart of metal behind +the dial had been started into sudden palpitation. + +“A gunboat!” shouted Lingard, suddenly, as if he had seen only in +that moment, by the light of some vivid flash of thought, all the +difficulties of the situation. “If you don't go back with me there will +be nothing left for you to go back to--very soon. Your gunboat won't +find a single ship's rib or a single corpse left for a landmark. That +she won't. It isn't a gunboat skipper you want. I am the man you +want. You don't know your luck when you see it, but I know mine, I +do--and--look here--” + +He touched Carter's chest with his forefinger, and said with a sudden +gentleness of tone: + +“I am a white man inside and out; I won't let inoffensive people--and a +woman, too--come to harm if I can help it. And if I can't help, nobody +can. You understand--nobody! There's no time for it. But I am like any +other man that is worth his salt: I won't let the end of an undertaking +go by the board while there is a chance to hold on--and it's like +this--” + +His voice was persuasive--almost caressing; he had hold now of a coat +button and tugged at it slightly as he went on in a confidential manner: + +“As it turns out, Mr. Carter, I would--in a manner of speaking--I would +as soon shoot you where you stand as let you go to raise an alarm +all over this sea about your confounded yacht. I have other lives to +consider--and friends--and promises--and--and myself, too. I shall keep +you,” he concluded, sharply. + +Carter drew a long breath. On the deck above, the two men could +hear soft footfalls, short murmurs, indistinct words spoken near the +skylight. Shaw's voice rang out loudly in growling tones: + +“Furl the royals, you tindal!” + +“It's the queerest old go,” muttered Carter, looking down on to the +floor. “You are a strange man. I suppose I must believe what you +say--unless you and that fat mate of yours are a couple of escaped +lunatics that got hold of a brig by some means. Why, that chap up there +wanted to pick a quarrel with me for coming aboard, and now you threaten +to shoot me rather than let me go. Not that I care much about that; for +some time or other you would get hanged for it; and you don't look like +a man that will end that way. If what you say is only half true, I ought +to get back to the yacht as quick as ever I can. It strikes me that your +coming to them will be only a small mercy, anyhow--and I may be of some +use--But this is the queerest. . . . May I go in my boat?” + +“As you like,” said Lingard. “There's a rain squall coming.” + +“I am in charge and will get wet along of my chaps. Give us a good long +line, Captain.” + +“It's done already,” said Lingard. “You seem a sensible sailorman and +can see that it would be useless to try and give me the slip.” + +“For a man so ready to shoot, you seem very trustful,” drawled Carter. +“If I cut adrift in a squall, I stand a pretty fair chance not to see +you again.” + +“You just try,” said Lingard, drily. “I have eyes in this brig, young +man, that will see your boat when you couldn't see the ship. You are of +the kind I like, but if you monkey with me I will find you--and when I +find you I will run you down as surely as I stand here.” + +Carter slapped his thigh and his eyes twinkled. + +“By the Lord Harry!” he cried. “If it wasn't for the men with me, I +would try for sport. You are so cocksure about the lot you can do, +Captain. You would aggravate a saint into open mutiny.” + +His easy good humour had returned; but after a short burst of laughter, +he became serious. + +“Never fear,” he said, “I won't slip away. If there is to be any +throat-cutting--as you seem to hint--mine will be there, too, I promise +you, and. . . .” + +He stretched his arms out, glanced at them, shook them a little. + +“And this pair of arms to take care of it,” he added, in his old, +careless drawl. + +But the master of the brig sitting with both his elbows on the table, +his face in his hands, had fallen unexpectedly into a meditation so +concentrated and so profound that he seemed neither to hear, see, nor +breathe. The sight of that man's complete absorption in thought was to +Carter almost more surprising than any other occurrence of that night. +Had his strange host vanished suddenly from before his eyes, it could +not have made him feel more uncomfortably alone in that cabin where +the pertinacious clock kept ticking off the useless minutes of the calm +before it would, with the same steady beat, begin to measure the aimless +disturbance of the storm. + + + +III + +After waiting a moment, Carter went on deck. The sky, the sea, the +brig itself had disappeared in a darkness that had become impenetrable, +palpable, and stifling. An immense cloud had come up running over the +heavens, as if looking for the little craft, and now hung over it, +arrested. To the south there was a livid trembling gleam, faint and sad, +like a vanishing memory of destroyed starlight. To the north, as if +to prove the impossible, an incredibly blacker patch outlined on the +tremendous blackness of the sky the heart of the coming squall. The +glimmers in the water had gone out and the invisible sea all around lay +mute and still as if it had died suddenly of fright. + +Carter could see nothing. He felt about him people moving; he heard +them in the darkness whispering faintly as if they had been exchanging +secrets important or infamous. The night effaced even words, and its +mystery had captured everything and every sound--had left nothing free +but the unexpected that seemed to hover about one, ready to stretch out +its stealthy hand in a touch sudden, familiar, and appalling. Even the +careless disposition of the young ex-officer of an opium-clipper was +affected by the ominous aspect of the hour. What was this vessel? +What were those people? What would happen to-morrow? To the yacht? To +himself? He felt suddenly without any additional reason but the darkness +that it was a poor show, anyhow, a dashed poor show for all hands. The +irrational conviction made him falter for a second where he stood and he +gripped the slide of the companionway hard. + +Shaw's voice right close to his ear relieved and cleared his troubled +thoughts. + +“Oh! it's you, Mister. Come up at last,” said the mate of the brig +slowly. “It appears we've got to give you a tow now. Of all the rum +incidents, this beats all. A boat sneaks up from nowhere and turns +out to be a long-expected friend! For you are one of them friends the +skipper was going to meet somewhere here. Ain't you now? Come! I know +more than you may think. Are we off to--you may just as well tell--off +to--h'm ha . . . you know?” + +“Yes. I know. Don't you?” articulated Carter, innocently. + +Shaw remained very quiet for a minute. + +“Where's my skipper?” he asked at last. + +“I left him down below in a kind of trance. Where's my boat?” + +“Your boat is hanging astern. And my opinion is that you are as uncivil +as I've proved you to be untruthful. Egzz-actly.” + +Carter stumbled toward the taffrail and in the first step he made came +full against somebody who glided away. It seemed to him that such a +night brings men to a lower level. He thought that he might have been +knocked on the head by anybody strong enough to lift a crow-bar. He felt +strangely irritated. He said loudly, aiming his words at Shaw whom he +supposed somewhere near: + +“And my opinion is that you and your skipper will come to a sudden bad +end before--” + +“I thought you were in your boat. Have you changed your mind?” asked +Lingard in his deep voice close to Carter's elbow. + +Carter felt his way along the rail, till his hand found a line that +seemed, in the calm, to stream out of its own accord into the darkness. +He hailed his boat, and directly heard the wash of water against her +bows as she was hauled quickly under the counter. Then he loomed up +shapeless on the rail, and the next moment disappeared as if he had +fallen out of the universe. Lingard heard him say: + +“Catch hold of my leg, John.” There were hollow sounds in the boat; a +voice growled, “All right.” + +“Keep clear of the counter,” said Lingard, speaking in quiet warning +tones into the night. “The brig may get a lot of sternway on her should +this squall not strike her fairly.” + +“Aye, aye. I will mind,” was the muttered answer from the water. + +Lingard crossed over to the port side, and looked steadily at the sooty +mass of approaching vapours. After a moment he said curtly, “Brace up +for the port tack, Mr. Shaw,” and remained silent, with his face to +the sea. A sound, sorrowful and startling like the sigh of some immense +creature, travelling across the starless space, passed above the +vertical and lofty spars of the motionless brig. + +It grew louder, then suddenly ceased for a moment, and the taut rigging +of the brig was heard vibrating its answer in a singing note to this +threatening murmur of the winds. A long and slow undulation lifted the +level of the waters, as if the sea had drawn a deep breath of anxious +suspense. The next minute an immense disturbance leaped out of the +darkness upon the sea, kindling upon it a livid clearness of foam, and +the first gust of the squall boarded the brig in a stinging flick of +rain and spray. As if overwhelmed by the suddenness of the fierce onset, +the vessel remained for a second upright where she floated, shaking with +tremendous jerks from trucks to keel; while high up in the night the +invisible canvas was heard rattling and beating about violently. + +Then, with a quick double report, as of heavy guns, both topsails filled +at once and the brig fell over swiftly on her side. Shaw was thrown +headlong against the skylight, and Lingard, who had encircled the +weather rail with his arm, felt the vessel under his feet dart forward +smoothly, and the deck become less slanting--the speed of the brig +running off a little now, easing the overturning strain of the wind upon +the distended surfaces of the sails. It was only the fineness of the +little vessel's lines and the perfect shape of her hull that saved the +canvas, and perhaps the spars, by enabling the ready craft to get way +upon herself with such lightning-like rapidity. Lingard drew a long +breath and yelled jubilantly at Shaw who was struggling up against wind +and rain to his commander's side. + +“She'll do. Hold on everything.” + +Shaw tried to speak. He swallowed great mouthfuls of tepid water +which the wind drove down his throat. The brig seemed to sail through +undulating waves that passed swishing between the masts and swept over +the decks with the fierce rush and noise of a cataract. From every spar +and every rope a ragged sheet of water streamed flicking to leeward. The +overpowering deluge seemed to last for an age; became unbearable--and, +all at once, stopped. In a couple of minutes the shower had run its +length over the brig and now could be seen like a straight grey wall, +going away into the night under the fierce whispering of dissolving +clouds. The wind eased. To the northward, low down in the darkness, +three stars appeared in a row, leaping in and out between the crests +of waves like the distant heads of swimmers in a running surf; and the +retreating edge of the cloud, perfectly straight from east to west, +slipped along the dome of the sky like an immense hemispheric, iron +shutter pivoting down smoothly as if operated by some mighty engine. An +inspiring and penetrating freshness flowed together with the shimmer +of light, through the augmented glory of the heaven, a glory exalted, +undimmed, and strangely startling as if a new world had been created +during the short flight of the stormy cloud. It was a return to life, +a return to space; the earth coming out from under a pall to take its +place in the renewed and immense scintillation of the universe. + +The brig, her yards slightly checked in, ran with an easy motion under +the topsails, jib and driver, pushing contemptuously aside the turbulent +crowd of noisy and agitated waves. As the craft went swiftly ahead she +unrolled behind her over the uneasy darkness of the sea a broad ribbon +of seething foam shot with wispy gleams of dark discs escaping from +under the rudder. Far away astern, at the end of a line no thicker than +a black thread, which dipped now and then its long curve in the bursting +froth, a toy-like object could be made out, elongated and dark, racing +after the brig over the snowy whiteness of her wake. + +Lingard walked aft, and, with both his hands on the taffrail, looked +eagerly for Carter's boat. The first glance satisfied him that the +yacht's gig was towing easily at the end of the long scope of line, and +he turned away to look ahead and to leeward with a steady gaze. It was +then half an hour past midnight and Shaw, relieved by Wasub, had gone +below. Before he went, he said to Lingard, “I will be off, sir, if +you're not going to make more sail yet.” “Not yet for a while,” had +answered Lingard in a preoccupied manner; and Shaw departed aggrieved at +such a neglect of making the best of a good breeze. + +On the main deck dark-skinned men, whose clothing clung to their +shivering limbs as if they had been overboard, had finished recoiling +the braces, and clearing the gear. The kassab, after having hung the +fore-topsail halyards in the becket, strutted into the waist toward a +row of men who stood idly with their shoulders against the side of the +long boat amidships. He passed along looking up close at the stolid +faces. Room was made for him, and he took his place at the end. + +“It was a great rain and a mighty wind, O men,” he said, dogmatically, +“but no wind can ever hurt this ship. That I knew while I stood minding +the sail which is under my care.” + +A dull and inexpressive murmur was heard from the men. Over the high +weather rail, a topping wave flung into their eyes a handful of heavy +drops that stung like hail. There were low groans of indignation. A man +sighed. Another emitted a spasmodic laugh through his chattering teeth. +No one moved away. The little kassab wiped his face and went on in his +cracked voice, to the accompaniment of the swishing sounds made by the +seas that swept regularly astern along the ship's side. + +“Have you heard him shout at the wind--louder than the wind? I have +heard, being far forward. And before, too, in the many years I served +this white man I have heard him often cry magic words that make all +safe. Ya-wa! This is truth. Ask Wasub who is a Haji, even as I am.” + +“I have seen white men's ships with their masts broken--also wrecked +like our own praus,” remarked sadly a lean, lank fellow who shivered +beside the kassab, hanging his head and trying to grasp his shoulder +blades. + +“True,” admitted the kassab. “They are all the children of Satan but to +some more favour is shown. To obey such men on the sea or in a fight +is good. I saw him who is master here fight with wild men who eat their +enemies--far away to the eastward--and I dealt blows by his side without +fear; for the charms he, no doubt, possesses protect his servants also. +I am a believer and the Stoned One can not touch my forehead. Yet the +reward of victory comes from the accursed. For six years have I sailed +with that white man; first as one who minds the rudder, for I am a +man of the sea, born in a prau, and am skilled in such work. And now, +because of my great knowledge of his desires, I have the care of all +things in this ship.” + +Several voices muttered, “True. True.” They remained apathetic and +patient, in the rush of wind, under the repeated short flights of +sprays. The slight roll of the ship balanced them stiffly all together +where they stood propped against the big boat. The breeze humming +between the inclined masts enveloped their dark and silent figures in +the unceasing resonance of its breath. + +The brig's head had been laid so as to pass a little to windward of the +small islands of the Carimata group. They had been till then hidden in +the night, but now both men on the lookout reported land ahead in one +long cry. Lingard, standing to leeward abreast of the wheel, watched +the islet first seen. When it was nearly abeam of the brig he gave his +orders, and Wasub hurried off to the main deck. The helm was put down, +the yards on the main came slowly square and the wet canvas of the +main-topsail clung suddenly to the mast after a single heavy flap. The +dazzling streak of the ship's wake vanished. The vessel lost her way +and began to dip her bows into the quick succession of the running head +seas. And at every slow plunge of the craft, the song of the wind would +swell louder amongst the waving spars, with a wild and mournful note. + +Just as the brig's boat had been swung out, ready for lowering, the +yacht's gig hauled up by its line appeared tossing and splashing on +the lee quarter. Carter stood up in the stern sheets balancing himself +cleverly to the disordered motion of his cockleshell. He hailed the brig +twice to know what was the matter, not being able from below and in the +darkness to make out what that confused group of men on the poop were +about. He got no answer, though he could see the shape of a man standing +by himself aft, and apparently watching him. He was going to repeat his +hail for the third time when he heard the rattling of tackles followed +by a heavy splash, a burst of voices, scrambling hollow sounds--and a +dark mass detaching itself from the brig's side swept past him on the +crest of a passing wave. For less than a second he could see on the +shimmer of the night sky the shape of a boat, the heads of men, the +blades of oars pointing upward while being got out hurriedly. Then +all this sank out of sight, reappeared once more far off and hardly +discernible, before vanishing for good. + +“Why, they've lowered a boat!” exclaimed Carter, falling back in his +seat. He remembered that he had seen only a few hours ago three native +praus lurking amongst those very islands. For a moment he had the idea +of casting off to go in chase of that boat, so as to find out. . . . +Find out what? He gave up his idea at once. What could he do? + +The conviction that the yacht, and everything belonging to her, were in +some indefinite but very real danger, took afresh a strong hold of him, +and the persuasion that the master of the brig was going there to +help did not by any means assuage his alarm. The fact only served to +complicate his uneasiness with a sense of mystery. + +The white man who spoke as if that sea was all his own, or as if people +intruded upon his privacy by taking the liberty of getting wrecked on a +coast where he and his friends did some queer business, seemed to him an +undesirable helper. That the boat had been lowered to communicate with +the praus seen and avoided by him in the evening he had no doubt. The +thought had flashed on him at once. It had an ugly look. Yet the best +thing to do after all was to hang on and get back to the yacht and warn +them. . . . Warn them against whom? The man had been perfectly open with +him. Warn them against what? It struck him that he hadn't the slightest +conception of what would happen, of what was even likely to happen. That +strange rescuer himself was bringing the news of danger. Danger from the +natives of course. And yet he was in communication with those natives. +That was evident. That boat going off in the night. . . . Carter swore +heartily to himself. His perplexity became positive bodily pain as he +sat, wet, uncomfortable, and still, one hand on the tiller, thrown up +and down in headlong swings of his boat. And before his eyes, towering +high, the black hull of the brig also rose and fell, setting her stern +down in the sea, now and again, with a tremendous and foaming splash. +Not a sound from her reached Carter's ears. She seemed an abandoned +craft but for the outline of a man's head and body still visible in a +watchful attitude above the taffrail. + +Carter told his bowman to haul up closer and hailed: + +“Brig ahoy. Anything wrong?” + +He waited, listening. The shadowy man still watched. After some time a +curt “No” came back in answer. + +“Are you going to keep hove-to long?” shouted Carter. + +“Don't know. Not long. Drop your boat clear of the ship. Drop clear. Do +damage if you don't.” + +“Slack away, John!” said Carter in a resigned tone to the elderly seaman +in the bow. “Slack away and let us ride easy to the full scope. They +don't seem very talkative on board there.” + +Even while he was speaking the line ran out and the regular undulations +of the passing seas drove the boat away from the brig. Carter turned +a little in his seat to look at the land. It loomed up dead to leeward +like a lofty and irregular cone only a mile or a mile and a half +distant. The noise of the surf beating upon its base was heard against +the wind in measured detonations. The fatigue of many days spent in the +boat asserted itself above the restlessness of Carter's thoughts and, +gradually, he lost the notion of the passing time without altogether +losing the consciousness of his situation. + +In the intervals of that benumbed stupor--rather than sleep--he was +aware that the interrupted noise of the surf had grown into a continuous +great rumble, swelling periodically into a loud roar; that the high +islet appeared now bigger, and that a white fringe of foam was visible +at its feet. Still there was no stir or movement of any kind on board +the brig. He noticed that the wind was moderating and the sea going down +with it, and then dozed off again for a minute. When next he opened his +eyes with a start, it was just in time to see with surprise a new star +soar noiselessly straight up from behind the land, take up its position +in a brilliant constellation--and go out suddenly. Two more followed, +ascending together, and after reaching about the same elevation, expired +side by side. + +“Them's rockets, sir--ain't they?” said one of the men in a muffled +voice. + +“Aye, rockets,” grunted Carter. “And now, what's the next move?” he +muttered to himself dismally. + +He got his answer in the fierce swishing whirr of a slender ray of +fire that, shooting violently upward from the sombre hull of the brig, +dissolved at once into a dull red shower of falling sparks. Only one, +white and brilliant, remained alone poised high overhead, and after +glowing vividly for a second, exploded with a feeble report. Almost at +the same time he saw the brig's head fall off the wind, made out the +yards swinging round to fill the main topsail, and heard distinctly the +thud of the first wave thrown off by the advancing bows. The next minute +the tow-line got the strain and his boat started hurriedly after the +brig with a sudden jerk. + +Leaning forward, wide awake and attentive, Carter steered. His men +sat one behind another with shoulders up, and arched backs, dozing, +uncomfortable but patient, upon the thwarts. The care requisite to steer +the boat properly in the track of the seething and disturbed water left +by the brig in her rapid course prevented him from reflecting much upon +the incertitude of the future and upon his own unusual situation. + +Now he was only exceedingly anxious to see the yacht again, and it was +with a feeling of very real satisfaction that he saw all plain sail +being made on the brig. Through the remaining hours of the night he sat +grasping the tiller and keeping his eyes on the shadowy and high pyramid +of canvas gliding steadily ahead of his boat with a slight balancing +movement from side to side. + + + +IV + +It was noon before the brig, piloted by Lingard through the deep +channels between the outer coral reefs, rounded within pistol-shot a low +hummock of sand which marked the end of a long stretch of stony ledges +that, being mostly awash, showed a black head only, here and there +amongst the hissing brown froth of the yellow sea. As the brig drew +clear of the sandy patch there appeared, dead to windward and beyond a +maze of broken water, sandspits, and clusters of rocks, the black hull +of the yacht heeling over, high and motionless upon the great expanse of +glittering shallows. Her long, naked spars were inclined slightly as +if she had been sailing with a good breeze. There was to the lookers-on +aboard the brig something sad and disappointing in the yacht's aspect +as she lay perfectly still in an attitude that in a seaman's mind is +associated with the idea of rapid motion. + +“Here she is!” said Shaw, who, clad in a spotless white suit, came just +then from forward where he had been busy with the anchors. “She is well +on, sir--isn't she? Looks like a mudflat to me from here.” + +“Yes. It is a mudflat,” said Lingard, slowly, raising the long glass to +his eye. “Haul the mainsail up, Mr. Shaw,” he went on while he took a +steady look at the yacht. “We will have to work in short tacks here.” + +He put the glass down and moved away from the rail. For the next hour +he handled his little vessel in the intricate and narrow channel with +careless certitude, as if every stone, every grain of sand upon the +treacherous bottom had been plainly disclosed to his sight. He handled +her in the fitful and unsteady breeze with a matter-of-fact audacity +that made Shaw, forward at his station, gasp in sheer alarm. When +heading toward the inshore shoals the brig was never put round till the +quick, loud cries of the leadsmen announced that there were no more than +three feet of water under her keel; and when standing toward the steep +inner edge of the long reef, where the lead was of no use, the helm +would be put down only when the cutwater touched the faint line of the +bordering foam. Lingard's love for his brig was a man's love, and was +so great that it could never be appeased unless he called on her to put +forth all her qualities and her power, to repay his exacting affection +by a faithfulness tried to the very utmost limit of endurance. Every +flutter of the sails flew down from aloft along the taut leeches, to +enter his heart in a sense of acute delight; and the gentle murmur of +water alongside, which, continuous and soft, showed that in all her +windings his incomparable craft had never, even for an instant, ceased +to carry her way, was to him more precious and inspiring than the soft +whisper of tender words would have been to another man. It was in such +moments that he lived intensely, in a flush of strong feeling that made +him long to press his little vessel to his breast. She was his perfect +world full of trustful joy. + +The people on board the yacht, who watched eagerly the first sail they +had seen since they had been ashore on that deserted part of the coast, +soon made her out, with some disappointment, to be a small merchant brig +beating up tack for tack along the inner edge of the reef--probably with +the intention to communicate and offer assistance. The general opinion +among the seafaring portion of her crew was that little effective +assistance could be expected from a vessel of that description. Only +the sailing-master of the yacht remarked to the boatswain (who had the +advantage of being his first cousin): “This man is well acquainted here; +you can see that by the way he handles his brig. I shan't be sorry to +have somebody to stand by us. Can't tell when we will get off this mud, +George.” + +A long board, sailed very close, enabled the brig to fetch the southern +limit of discoloured water over the bank on which the yacht had +stranded. On the very edge of the muddy patch she was put in stays for +the last time. As soon as she had paid off on the other tack, sail was +shortened smartly, and the brig commenced the stretch that was to bring +her to her anchorage, under her topsails, lower staysails and jib. There +was then less than a quarter of a mile of shallow water between her and +the yacht; but while that vessel had gone ashore with her head to the +eastward the brig was moving slowly in a west-northwest direction, and +consequently, sailed--so to speak--past the whole length of the yacht. +Lingard saw every soul in the schooner on deck, watching his advent in +a silence which was as unbroken and perfect as that on board his own +vessel. + +A little man with a red face framed in white whiskers waved a gold-laced +cap above the rail in the waist of the yacht. Lingard raised his arm in +return. Further aft, under the white awnings, he could see two men and +a woman. One of the men and the lady were in blue. The other man, +who seemed very tall and stood with his arm entwined round an awning +stanchion above his head, was clad in white. Lingard saw them plainly. +They looked at the brig through binoculars, turned their faces to +one another, moved their lips, seemed surprised. A large dog put his +forepaws on the rail, and, lifting up his big, black head, sent out +three loud and plaintive barks, then dropped down out of sight. A sudden +stir and an appearance of excitement amongst all hands on board the +yacht was caused by their perceiving that the boat towing astern of the +stranger was their own second gig. + +Arms were outstretched with pointing fingers. Someone shouted out a +long sentence of which not a word could be made out; and then the brig, +having reached the western limit of the bank, began to move diagonally +away, increasing her distance from the yacht but bringing her stern +gradually into view. The people aft, Lingard noticed, left their places +and walked over to the taffrail so as to keep him longer in sight. + +When about a mile off the bank and nearly in line with the stern of the +yacht the brig's topsails fluttered and the yards came down slowly +on the caps; the fore and aft canvas ran down; and for some time she +floated quietly with folded wings upon the transparent sheet of water, +under the radiant silence of the sky. Then her anchor went to the bottom +with a rumbling noise resembling the roll of distant thunder. In a +moment her head tended to the last puffs of the northerly airs and the +ensign at the peak stirred, unfurled itself slowly, collapsed, flew out +again, and finally hung down straight and still, as if weighted with +lead. + +“Dead calm, sir,” said Shaw to Lingard. “Dead calm again. We got into +this funny place in the nick of time, sir.” + +They stood for a while side by side, looking round upon the coast and +the sea. The brig had been brought up in the middle of a broad belt of +clear water. To the north rocky ledges showed in black and white lines +upon the slight swell setting in from there. A small island stood out +from the broken water like the square tower of some submerged building. +It was about two miles distant from the brig. To the eastward the coast +was low; a coast of green forests fringed with dark mangroves. There was +in its sombre dullness a clearly defined opening, as if a small piece +had been cut out with a sharp knife. The water in it shone like a patch +of polished silver. Lingard pointed it out to Shaw. + +“This is the entrance to the place where we are going,” he said. + +Shaw stared, round-eyed. + +“I thought you came here on account of this here yacht,” he stammered, +surprised. + +“Ah. The yacht,” said Lingard, musingly, keeping his eyes on the break +in the coast. “The yacht--” He stamped his foot suddenly. “I would give +all I am worth and throw in a few days of life into the bargain if I +could get her off and away before to-night.” + +He calmed down, and again stood gazing at the land. A little within the +entrance from behind the wall of forests an invisible fire belched out +steadily the black and heavy convolutions of thick smoke, which stood +out high, like a twisted and shivering pillar against the clear blue of +the sky. + +“We must stop that game, Mr. Shaw,” said Lingard, abruptly. + +“Yes, sir. What game?” asked Shaw, looking round in wonder. + +“This smoke,” said Lingard, impatiently. “It's a signal.” + +“Certainly, sir--though I don't see how we can do it. It seems far +inland. A signal for what, sir?” + +“It was not meant for us,” said Lingard in an unexpectedly savage tone. +“Here, Shaw, make them put a blank charge into that forecastle gun. Tell +'em to ram hard the wadding and grease the mouth. We want to make a good +noise. If old Jorgenson hears it, that fire will be out before you have +time to turn round twice. . . . In a minute, Mr. Carter.” + +The yacht's boat had come alongside as soon as the brig had been brought +up, and Carter had been waiting to take Lingard on board the yacht. They +both walked now to the gangway. Shaw, following his commander, stood by +to take his last orders. + +“Put all the boats in the water, Mr. Shaw,” Lingard was saying, with one +foot on the rail, ready to leave his ship, “and mount the four-pounder +swivel in the longboat's bow. Cast off the sea lashings of the guns, +but don't run 'em out yet. Keep the topsails loose and the jib ready for +setting, I may want the sails in a hurry. Now, Mr. Carter, I am ready +for you.” + +“Shove off, boys,” said Carter as soon as they were seated in the boat. +“Shove off, and give way for a last pull before you get a long rest.” + +The men lay back on their oars, grunting. Their faces were drawn, grey +and streaked with the dried salt sprays. They had the worried expression +of men who had a long call made upon their endurance. Carter, heavy-eyed +and dull, steered for the yacht's gangway. Lingard asked as they were +crossing the brig's bows: + +“Water enough alongside your craft, I suppose?” + +“Yes. Eight to twelve feet,” answered Carter, hoarsely. “Say, Captain! +Where's your show of cutthroats? Why! This sea is as empty as a church +on a week-day.” + +The booming report, nearly over his head, of the brig's eighteen-pounder +interrupted him. A round puff of white vapour, spreading itself lazily, +clung in fading shreds about the foreyard. Lingard, turning half round +in the stern sheets, looked at the smoke on the shore. Carter remained +silent, staring sleepily at the yacht they were approaching. Lingard +kept watching the smoke so intensely that he almost forgot where he +was, till Carter's voice pronouncing sharply at his ear the words “way +enough,” recalled him to himself. + +They were in the shadow of the yacht and coming alongside her ladder. +The master of the brig looked upward into the face of a gentleman, +with long whiskers and a shaved chin, staring down at him over the side +through a single eyeglass. As he put his foot on the bottom step he +could see the shore smoke still ascending, unceasing and thick; but even +as he looked the very base of the black pillar rose above the ragged +line of tree-tops. The whole thing floated clear away from the earth, +and rolling itself into an irregularly shaped mass, drifted out to +seaward, travelling slowly over the blue heavens, like a threatening and +lonely cloud. + + + +PART II. THE SHORE OF REFUGE + +I + +The coast off which the little brig, floating upright above her anchor, +seemed to guard the high hull of the yacht has no distinctive features. +It is land without form. It stretches away without cape or bluff, long +and low--indefinitely; and when the heavy gusts of the northeast monsoon +drive the thick rain slanting over the sea, it is seen faintly under the +grey sky, black and with a blurred outline like the straight edge of a +dissolving shore. In the long season of unclouded days, it presents to +view only a narrow band of earth that appears crushed flat upon the vast +level of waters by the weight of the sky, whose immense dome rests on it +in a line as fine and true as that of the sea horizon itself. + +Notwithstanding its nearness to the centres of European power, this +coast has been known for ages to the armed wanderers of these seas +as “The Shore of Refuge.” It has no specific name on the charts, and +geography manuals don't mention it at all; but the wreckage of many +defeats unerringly drifts into its creeks. Its approaches are extremely +difficult for a stranger. Looked at from seaward, the innumerable islets +fringing what, on account of its vast size, may be called the mainland, +merge into a background that presents not a single landmark to point the +way through the intricate channels. It may be said that in a belt of sea +twenty miles broad along that low shore there is much more coral, mud, +sand, and stones than actual sea water. It was amongst the outlying +shoals of this stretch that the yacht had gone ashore and the events +consequent upon her stranding took place. + +The diffused light of the short daybreak showed the open water to the +westward, sleeping, smooth and grey, under a faded heaven. The straight +coast threw a heavy belt of gloom along the shoals, which, in the calm +of expiring night, were unmarked by the slightest ripple. In the faint +dawn the low clumps of bushes on the sandbanks appeared immense. + +Two figures, noiseless like two shadows, moved slowly over the beach of +a rocky islet, and stopped side by side on the very edge of the water. +Behind them, between the mats from which they had arisen, a small heap +of black embers smouldered quietly. They stood upright and perfectly +still, but for the slight movement of their heads from right to left and +back again as they swept their gaze through the grey emptiness of the +waters where, about two miles distant, the hull of the yacht loomed up +to seaward, black and shapeless, against the wan sky. + +The two figures looked beyond without exchanging as much as a murmur. +The taller of the two grounded, at arm's length, the stock of a gun with +a long barrel; the hair of the other fell down to its waist; and, near +by, the leaves of creepers drooping from the summit of the steep rock +stirred no more than the festooned stone. The faint light, disclosing +here and there a gleam of white sandbanks and the blurred hummocks of +islets scattered within the gloom of the coast, the profound silence, +the vast stillness all round, accentuated the loneliness of the two +human beings who, urged by a sleepless hope, had risen thus, at break of +day, to look afar upon the veiled face of the sea. + +“Nothing!” said the man with a sigh, and as if awakening from a long +period of musing. + +He was clad in a jacket of coarse blue cotton, of the kind a poor +fisherman might own, and he wore it wide open on a muscular chest the +colour and smoothness of bronze. From the twist of threadbare sarong +wound tightly on the hips protruded outward to the left the ivory hilt, +ringed with six bands of gold, of a weapon that would not have disgraced +a ruler. Silver glittered about the flintlock and the hardwood stock +of his gun. The red and gold handkerchief folded round his head was of +costly stuff, such as is woven by high-born women in the households of +chiefs, only the gold threads were tarnished and the silk frayed in the +folds. His head was thrown back, the dropped eyelids narrowed the gleam +of his eyes. His face was hairless, the nose short with mobile nostrils, +and the smile of careless good-humour seemed to have been permanently +wrought, as if with a delicate tool, into the slight hollows about +the corners of rather full lips. His upright figure had a negligent +elegance. But in the careless face, in the easy gestures of the whole +man there was something attentive and restrained. + +After giving the offing a last searching glance, he turned and, facing +the rising sun, walked bare-footed on the elastic sand. The trailed butt +of his gun made a deep furrow. The embers had ceased to smoulder. He +looked down at them pensively for a while, then called over his shoulder +to the girl who had remained behind, still scanning the sea: + +“The fire is out, Immada.” + +At the sound of his voice the girl moved toward the mats. Her black hair +hung like a mantle. Her sarong, the kilt-like garment which both sexes +wear, had the national check of grey and red, but she had not completed +her attire by the belt, scarves, the loose upper wrappings, and the +head-covering of a woman. A black silk jacket, like that of a man of +rank, was buttoned over her bust and fitted closely to her slender +waist. The edge of a stand-up collar, stiff with gold embroidery, +rubbed her cheek. She had no bracelets, no anklets, and although dressed +practically in man's clothes, had about her person no weapon of any +sort. Her arms hung down in exceedingly tight sleeves slit a little way +up from the wrist, gold-braided and with a row of small gold buttons. +She walked, brown and alert, all of a piece, with short steps, the eyes +lively in an impassive little face, the arched mouth closed firmly; and +her whole person breathed in its rigid grace the fiery gravity of youth +at the beginning of the task of life--at the beginning of beliefs and +hopes. + +This was the day of Lingard's arrival upon the coast, but, as is known, +the brig, delayed by the calm, did not appear in sight of the shallows +till the morning was far advanced. Disappointed in their hope to see the +expected sail shining in the first rays of the rising sun, the man and +the woman, without attempting to relight the fire, lounged on their +sleeping mats. At their feet a common canoe, hauled out of the water, +was, for more security, moored by a grass rope to the shaft of a long +spear planted firmly on the white beach, and the incoming tide lapped +monotonously against its stern. + +The girl, twisting up her black hair, fastened it with slender wooden +pins. The man, reclining at full length, had made room on his mat for +the gun--as one would do for a friend--and, supported on his elbow, +looked toward the yacht with eyes whose fixed dreaminess like a +transparent veil would show the slow passage of every gloomy thought by +deepening gradually into a sombre stare. + +“We have seen three sunrises on this islet, and no friend came from the +sea,” he said without changing his attitude, with his back toward the +girl who sat on the other side of the cold embers. + +“Yes; and the moon is waning,” she answered in a low voice. “The moon +is waning. Yet he promised to be here when the nights are light and the +water covers the sandbanks as far as the bushes.” + +“The traveller knows the time of his setting out, but not the time of +his return,” observed the man, calmly. + +The girl sighed. + +“The nights of waiting are long,” she murmured. + +“And sometimes they are vain,” said the man with the same composure. +“Perhaps he will never return.” + +“Why?” exclaimed the girl. + +“The road is long and the heart may grow cold,” was the answer in a +quiet voice. “If he does not return it is because he has forgotten.” + +“Oh, Hassim, it is because he is dead,” cried the girl, indignantly. + +The man, looking fixedly to seaward, smiled at the ardour of her tone. + +They were brother and sister, and though very much alike, the family +resemblance was lost in the more general traits common to the whole +race. + +They were natives of Wajo and it is a common saying amongst the Malay +race that to be a successful traveller and trader a man must have some +Wajo blood in his veins. And with those people trading, which means also +travelling afar, is a romantic and an honourable occupation. The trader +must possess an adventurous spirit and a keen understanding; he should +have the fearlessness of youth and the sagacity of age; he should be +diplomatic and courageous, so as to secure the favour of the great and +inspire fear in evil-doers. + +These qualities naturally are not expected in a shopkeeper or a Chinaman +pedlar; they are considered indispensable only for a man who, of noble +birth and perhaps related to the ruler of his own country, wanders over +the seas in a craft of his own and with many followers; carries from +island to island important news as well as merchandise; who may be +trusted with secret messages and valuable goods; a man who, in short, +is as ready to intrigue and fight as to buy and sell. Such is the ideal +trader of Wajo. + +Trading, thus understood, was the occupation of ambitious men who played +an occult but important part in all those national risings, religious +disturbances, and also in the organized piratical movements on a large +scale which, during the first half of the last century, affected the +fate of more than one native dynasty and, for a few years at least, +seriously endangered the Dutch rule in the East. When, at the cost of +much blood and gold, a comparative peace had been imposed on the +islands the same occupation, though shorn of its glorious possibilities, +remained attractive for the most adventurous of a restless race. The +younger sons and relations of many a native ruler traversed the seas of +the Archipelago, visited the innumerable and little-known islands, and +the then practically unknown shores of New Guinea; every spot where +European trade had not penetrated--from Aru to Atjeh, from Sumbawa to +Palawan. + + + +II + +It was in the most unknown perhaps of such spots, a small bay on the +coast of New Guinea, that young Pata Hassim, the nephew of one of the +greatest chiefs of Wajo, met Lingard for the first time. + +He was a trader after the Wajo manner, and in a stout sea-going prau +armed with two guns and manned by young men who were related to his +family by blood or dependence, had come in there to buy some birds +of paradise skins for the old Sultan of Ternate; a risky expedition +undertaken not in the way of business but as a matter of courtesy toward +the aged Sultan who had entertained him sumptuously in that dismal brick +palace at Ternate for a month or more. + +While lying off the village, very much on his guard, waiting for the +skins and negotiating with the treacherous coast-savages who are the +go-betweens in that trade, Hassim saw one morning Lingard's brig come +to an anchor in the bay, and shortly afterward observed a white man of +great stature with a beard that shone like gold, land from a boat and +stroll on unarmed, though followed by four Malays of the brig's crew, +toward the native village. + +Hassim was struck with wonder and amazement at the cool recklessness of +such a proceeding; and, after; in true Malay fashion, discussing with +his people for an hour or so the urgency of the case, he also landed, +but well escorted and armed, with the intention of going to see what +would happen. + +The affair really was very simple, “such as”--Lingard would say--“such +as might have happened to anybody.” He went ashore with the intention +to look for some stream where he could conveniently replenish his water +casks, this being really the motive which had induced him to enter the +bay. + +While, with his men close by and surrounded by a mop-headed, sooty +crowd, he was showing a few cotton handkerchiefs, and trying to explain +by signs the object of his landing, a spear, lunged from behind, grazed +his neck. Probably the Papuan wanted only to ascertain whether such a +creature could be killed or hurt, and most likely firmly believed that +it could not; but one of Lingard's seamen at once retaliated by striking +at the experimenting savage with his parang--three such choppers brought +for the purpose of clearing the bush, if necessary, being all the +weapons the party from the brig possessed. + +A deadly tumult ensued with such suddenness that Lingard, turning round +swiftly, saw his defender, already speared in three places, fall forward +at his feet. Wasub, who was there, and afterward told the story once a +week on an average, used to horrify his hearers by showing how the man +blinked his eyes quickly before he fell. Lingard was unarmed. To the +end of his life he remained incorrigibly reckless in that respect, +explaining that he was “much too quick tempered to carry firearms on the +chance of a row. And if put to it,” he argued, “I can make shift to kill +a man with my fist anyhow; and then--don't ye see--you know what +you're doing and are not so apt to start a trouble from sheer temper or +funk--see?” + +In this case he did his best to kill a man with a blow from the shoulder +and catching up another by the middle flung him at the naked, wild +crowd. “He hurled men about as the wind hurls broken boughs. He made a +broad way through our enemies!” related Wasub in his jerky voice. It is +more probable that Lingard's quick movements and the amazing aspect of +such a strange being caused the warriors to fall back before his rush. + +Taking instant advantage of their surprise and fear, Lingard, followed +by his men, dashed along the kind of ruinous jetty leading to the +village which was erected as usual over the water. They darted into one +of the miserable huts built of rotten mats and bits of decayed canoes, +and in this shelter showing daylight through all its sides, they +had time to draw breath and realize that their position was not much +improved. + +The women and children screaming had cleared out into the bush, while +at the shore end of the jetty the warriors capered and yelled, preparing +for a general attack. Lingard noticed with mortification that his +boat-keeper apparently had lost his head, for, instead of swimming off +to the ship to give the alarm, as he was perfectly able to do, the +man actually struck out for a small rock a hundred yards away and was +frantically trying to climb up its perpendicular side. The tide being +out, to jump into the horrible mud under the houses would have been +almost certain death. Nothing remained therefore--since the miserable +dwelling would not have withstood a vigorous kick, let alone a +siege--but to rush back on shore and regain possession of the boat. To +this Lingard made up his mind quickly and, arming himself with a crooked +stick he found under his hand, sallied forth at the head of his three +men. As he bounded along, far in advance, he had just time to perceive +clearly the desperate nature of the undertaking, when he heard two shots +fired to his right. The solid mass of black bodies and frizzly heads in +front of him wavered and broke up. They did not run away, however. + +Lingard pursued his course, but now with that thrill of exultation which +even a faint prospect of success inspires in a sanguine man. He heard a +shout of many voices far off, then there was another report of a shot, +and a musket ball fired at long range spurted a tiny jet of sand between +him and his wild enemies. His next bound would have carried him into +their midst had they awaited his onset, but his uplifted arm found +nothing to strike. Black backs were leaping high or gliding horizontally +through the grass toward the edge of the bush. + +He flung his stick at the nearest pair of black shoulders and stopped +short. The tall grasses swayed themselves into a rest, a chorus of yells +and piercing shrieks died out in a dismal howl, and all at once the +wooded shores and the blue bay seemed to fall under the spell of a +luminous stillness. The change was as startling as the awakening from a +dream. The sudden silence struck Lingard as amazing. + +He broke it by lifting his voice in a stentorian shout, which arrested +the pursuit of his men. They retired reluctantly, glaring back angrily +at the wall of a jungle where not a single leaf stirred. The strangers, +whose opportune appearance had decided the issue of that adventure, did +not attempt to join in the pursuit but halted in a compact body on the +ground lately occupied by the savages. + +Lingard and the young leader of the Wajo traders met in the splendid +light of noonday, and amidst the attentive silence of their followers, +on the very spot where the Malay seaman had lost his life. Lingard, +striding up from one side, thrust out his open palm; Hassim responded at +once to the frank gesture and they exchanged their first hand-clasp over +the prostrate body, as if fate had already exacted the price of a death +for the most ominous of her gifts--the gift of friendship that sometimes +contains the whole good or evil of a life. + +“I'll never forget this day,” cried Lingard in a hearty tone; and the +other smiled quietly. + +Then after a short pause--“Will you burn the village for vengeance?” + asked the Malay with a quick glance down at the dead Lascar who, on his +face and with stretched arms, seemed to cling desperately to that earth +of which he had known so little. + +Lingard hesitated. + +“No,” he said, at last. “It would do good to no one.” + +“True,” said Hassim, gently, “but was this man your debtor--a slave?” + +“Slave?” cried Lingard. “This is an English brig. Slave? No. A free man +like myself.” + +“Hai. He is indeed free now,” muttered the Malay with another glance +downward. “But who will pay the bereaved for his life?” + +“If there is anywhere a woman or child belonging to him, I--my serang +would know--I shall seek them out,” cried Lingard, remorsefully. + +“You speak like a chief,” said Hassim, “only our great men do not go +to battle with naked hands. O you white men! O the valour of you white +men!” + +“It was folly, pure folly,” protested Lingard, “and this poor fellow has +paid for it.” + +“He could not avoid his destiny,” murmured the Malay. “It is in my mind +my trading is finished now in this place,” he added, cheerfully. + +Lingard expressed his regret. + +“It is no matter, it is no matter,” assured the other courteously, and +after Lingard had given a pressing invitation for Hassim and his two +companions of high rank to visit the brig, the two parties separated. + +The evening was calm when the Malay craft left its berth near the shore +and was rowed slowly across the bay to Lingard's anchorage. The end of a +stout line was thrown on board, and that night the white man's brig and +the brown man's prau swung together to the same anchor. + +The sun setting to seaward shot its last rays between the headlands, +when the body of the killed Lascar, wrapped up decently in a white +sheet, according to Mohammedan usage, was lowered gently below the +still waters of the bay upon which his curious glances, only a few +hours before, had rested for the first time. At the moment the dead man, +released from slip-ropes, disappeared without a ripple before the eyes +of his shipmates, the bright flash and the heavy report of the brig's +bow gun were succeeded by the muttering echoes of the encircling shores +and by the loud cries of sea birds that, wheeling in clouds, seemed +to scream after the departing seaman a wild and eternal good-bye. The +master of the brig, making his way aft with hanging head, was followed +by low murmurs of pleased surprise from his crew as well as from the +strangers who crowded the main deck. In such acts performed simply, from +conviction, what may be called the romantic side of the man's nature +came out; that responsive sensitiveness to the shadowy appeals made by +life and death, which is the groundwork of a chivalrous character. + +Lingard entertained his three visitors far into the night. A sheep from +the brig's sea stock was given to the men of the prau, while in the +cabin, Hassim and his two friends, sitting in a row on the stern settee, +looked very splendid with costly metals and flawed jewels. The talk +conducted with hearty friendship on Lingard's part, and on the part of +the Malays with the well-bred air of discreet courtesy, which is natural +to the better class of that people, touched upon many subjects and, in +the end, drifted to politics. + +“It is in my mind that you are a powerful man in your own country,” said +Hassim, with a circular glance at the cuddy. + +“My country is upon a far-away sea where the light breezes are as strong +as the winds of the rainy weather here,” said Lingard; and there were +low exclamations of wonder. “I left it very young, and I don't know +about my power there where great men alone are as numerous as the poor +people in all your islands, Tuan Hassim. But here,” he continued, “here, +which is also my country--being an English craft and worthy of it, +too--I am powerful enough. In fact, I am Rajah here. This bit of my +country is all my own.” + +The visitors were impressed, exchanged meaning glances, nodded at each +other. + +“Good, good,” said Hassim at last, with a smile. “You carry your country +and your power with you over the sea. A Rajah upon the sea. Good!” + +Lingard laughed thunderously while the others looked amused. + +“Your country is very powerful--we know,” began again Hassim after a +pause, “but is it stronger than the country of the Dutch who steal our +land?” + +“Stronger?” cried Lingard. He opened a broad palm. “Stronger? We +could take them in our hand like this--” and he closed his fingers +triumphantly. + +“And do you make them pay tribute for their land?” enquired Hassim with +eagerness. + +“No,” answered Lingard in a sobered tone; “this, Tuan Hassim, you see, +is not the custom of white men. We could, of course--but it is not the +custom.” + +“Is it not?” said the other with a sceptical smile. “They are stronger +than we are and they want tribute from us. And sometimes they get +it--even from Wajo where every man is free and wears a kris.” + +There was a period of dead silence while Lingard looked thoughtful and +the Malays gazed stonily at nothing. + +“But we burn our powder amongst ourselves,” went on Hassim, gently, “and +blunt our weapons upon one another.” + +He sighed, paused, and then changing to an easy tone began to urge +Lingard to visit Wajo “for trade and to see friends,” he said, laying +his hand on his breast and inclining his body slightly. + +“Aye. To trade with friends,” cried Lingard with a laugh, “for such a +ship”--he waved his arm--“for such a vessel as this is like a household +where there are many behind the curtain. It is as costly as a wife and +children.” + +The guests rose and took their leave. + +“You fired three shots for me, Panglima Hassim,” said Lingard, +seriously, “and I have had three barrels of powder put on board your +prau; one for each shot. But we are not quits.” + +The Malay's eyes glittered with pleasure. + +“This is indeed a friend's gift. Come to see me in my country!” + +“I promise,” said Lingard, “to see you--some day.” + +The calm surface of the bay reflected the glorious night sky, and the +brig with the prau riding astern seemed to be suspended amongst the +stars in a peace that was almost unearthly in the perfection of its +unstirring silence. The last hand-shakes were exchanged on deck, and the +Malays went aboard their own craft. Next morning, when a breeze sprang +up soon after sunrise, the brig and the prau left the bay together. When +clear of the land Lingard made all sail and sheered alongside to say +good-bye before parting company--the brig, of course, sailing three feet +to the prau's one. Hassim stood on the high deck aft. + +“Prosperous road,” hailed Lingard. + +“Remember the promise!” shouted the other. “And come soon!” he went on, +raising his voice as the brig forged past. “Come soon--lest what perhaps +is written should come to pass!” + +The brig shot ahead. + +“What?” yelled Lingard in a puzzled tone, “what's written?” + +He listened. And floating over the water came faintly the words: + +“No one knows!” + + + +III + +“My word! I couldn't help liking the chap,” would shout Lingard when +telling the story; and looking around at the eyes that glittered at him +through the smoke of cheroots, this Brixham trawler-boy, afterward a +youth in colliers, deep-water man, gold-digger, owner and commander of +“the finest brig afloat,” knew that by his listeners--seamen, traders, +adventurers like himself--this was accepted not as the expression of a +feeling, but as the highest commendation he could give his Malay friend. + +“By heavens! I shall go to Wajo!” he cried, and a semicircle of +heads nodded grave approbation while a slightly ironical voice said +deliberately--“You are a made man, Tom, if you get on the right side of +that Rajah of yours.” + +“Go in--and look out for yourself,” cried another with a laugh. + +A little professional jealousy was unavoidable, Wajo, on account of its +chronic state of disturbance, being closed to the white traders; but +there was no real ill-will in the banter of these men, who, rising with +handshakes, dropped off one by one. Lingard went straight aboard his +vessel and, till morning, walked the poop of the brig with measured +steps. The riding lights of ships twinkled all round him; the lights +ashore twinkled in rows, the stars twinkled above his head in a black +sky; and reflected in the black water of the roadstead twinkled far +below his feet. And all these innumerable and shining points were +utterly lost in the immense darkness. Once he heard faintly the rumbling +chain of some vessel coming to an anchor far away somewhere outside +the official limits of the harbour. A stranger to the port--thought +Lingard--one of us would have stood right in. Perhaps a ship from home? +And he felt strangely touched at the thought of that ship, weary with +months of wandering, and daring not to approach the place of rest. At +sunrise, while the big ship from the West, her sides streaked with rust +and grey with the salt of the sea, was moving slowly in to take up +a berth near the shore, Lingard left the roadstead on his way to the +eastward. + +A heavy gulf thunderstorm was raging, when after a long passage and at +the end of a sultry calm day, wasted in drifting helplessly in sight +of his destination, Lingard, taking advantage of fitful gusts of wind, +approached the shores of Wajo. With characteristic audacity, he held on +his way, closing in with a coast to which he was a stranger, and on a +night that would have appalled any other man; while at every dazzling +flash, Hassim's native land seemed to leap nearer at the brig--and +disappear instantly as though it had crouched low for the next spring +out of an impenetrable darkness. During the long day of the calm, he had +obtained from the deck and from aloft, such good views of the coast, +and had noted the lay of the land and the position of the dangers so +carefully that, though at the precise moment when he gave the order to +let go the anchor, he had been for some time able to see no further +than if his head had been wrapped in a woollen blanket, yet the next +flickering bluish flash showed him the brig, anchored almost exactly +where he had judged her to be, off a narrow white beach near the mouth +of a river. + +He could see on the shore a high cluster of bamboo huts perched upon +piles, a small grove of tall palms all bowed together before the blast +like stalks of grass, something that might have been a palisade +of pointed stakes near the water, and far off, a sombre background +resembling an immense wall--the forest-clad hills. Next moment, all this +vanished utterly from his sight, as if annihilated and, before he had +time to turn away, came back to view with a sudden crash, appearing +unscathed and motionless under hooked darts of flame, like some +legendary country of immortals, withstanding the wrath and fire of +Heaven. + +Made uneasy by the nature of his holding ground, and fearing that in one +of the terrific off-shore gusts the brig would start her anchor, Lingard +remained on deck to watch over the safety of his vessel. With one hand +upon the lead-line which would give him instant warning of the brig +beginning to drag, he stood by the rail, most of the time deafened +and blinded, but also fascinated, by the repeated swift visions of an +unknown shore, a sight always so inspiring, as much perhaps by its vague +suggestion of danger as by the hopes of success it never fails to awaken +in the heart of a true adventurer. And its immutable aspect of profound +and still repose, seen thus under streams of fire and in the midst of a +violent uproar, made it appear inconceivably mysterious and amazing. + +Between the squalls there were short moments of calm, while now and then +even the thunder would cease as if to draw breath. During one of those +intervals. Lingard, tired and sleepy, was beginning to doze where he +stood, when suddenly it occurred to him that, somewhere below, the sea +had spoken in a human voice. It had said, “Praise be to God--” and the +voice sounded small, clear, and confident, like the voice of a child +speaking in a cathedral. Lingard gave a start and thought--I've dreamed +this--and directly the sea said very close to him, “Give a rope.” + +The thunder growled wickedly, and Lingard, after shouting to the men on +deck, peered down at the water, until at last he made out floating close +alongside the upturned face of a man with staring eyes that gleamed at +him and then blinked quickly to a flash of lightning. By that time all +hands in the brig were wildly active and many ropes-ends had been thrown +over. Then together with a gust of wind, and, as if blown on board, a +man tumbled over the rail and fell all in a heap upon the deck. Before +any one had the time to pick him up, he leaped to his feet, causing the +people around him to step back hurriedly. A sinister blue glare showed +the bewildered faces and the petrified attitudes of men completely +deafened by the accompanying peal of thunder. After a time, as if to +beings plunged in the abyss of eternal silence, there came to their ears +an unfamiliar thin, far-away voice saying: + +“I seek the white man.” + +“Here,” cried Lingard. Then, when he had the stranger, dripping and +naked but for a soaked waistcloth, under the lamp of the cabin, he said, +“I don't know you.” + +“My name is Jaffir, and I come from Pata Hassim, who is my chief and +your friend. Do you know this?” + +He held up a thick gold ring, set with a fairly good emerald. + +“I have seen it before on the Rajah's finger,” said Lingard, looking +very grave. + +“It is the witness of the truth I speak--the message from Hassim +is--'Depart and forget!'” + +“I don't forget,” said Lingard, slowly. “I am not that kind of man. What +folly is this?” + +It is unnecessary to give at full length the story told by Jaffir. It +appears that on his return home, after the meeting with Lingard, +Hassim found his relative dying and a strong party formed to oppose +his rightful successor. The old Rajah Tulla died late at night and--as +Jaffir put it--before the sun rose there were already blows exchanged in +the courtyard of the ruler's dalam. This was the preliminary fight of a +civil war, fostered by foreign intrigues; a war of jungle and river, +of assaulted stockades and forest ambushes. In this contest, both +parties--according to Jaffir--displayed great courage, and one of them +an unswerving devotion to what, almost from the first, was a lost cause. +Before a month elapsed Hassim, though still chief of an armed band, was +already a fugitive. He kept up the struggle, however, with some vague +notion that Lingard's arrival would turn the tide. + +“For weeks we lived on wild rice; for days we fought with nothing +but water in our bellies,” declaimed Jaffir in the tone of a true +fire-eater. + +And then he went on to relate, how, driven steadily down to the sea, +Hassim, with a small band of followers, had been for days holding the +stockade by the waterside. + +“But every night some men disappeared,” confessed Jaffir. “They were +weary and hungry and they went to eat with their enemies. We are only +ten now--ten men and a woman with the heart of a man, who are tonight +starving, and to-morrow shall die swiftly. We saw your ship afar all +day; but you have come too late. And for fear of treachery and lest harm +should befall you--his friend--the Rajah gave me the ring and I crept +on my stomach over the sand, and I swam in the night--and I, Jaffir, the +best swimmer in Wajo, and the slave of Hassim, tell you--his message to +you is 'Depart and forget'--and this is his gift--take!” + +He caught hold suddenly of Lingard's hand, thrust roughly into it the +ring, and then for the first time looked round the cabin with wondering +but fearless eyes. They lingered over the semicircle of bayonets and +rested fondly on musket-racks. He grunted in admiration. + +“Ya-wa, this is strength!” he murmured as if to himself. “But it has +come too late.” + +“Perhaps not,” cried Lingard. + +“Too late,” said Jaffir, “we are ten only, and at sunrise we go out to +die.” He went to the cabin door and hesitated there with a puzzled air, +being unused to locks and door handles. + +“What are you going to do?” asked Lingard. + +“I shall swim back,” replied Jaffir. “The message is spoken and the +night can not last forever.” + +“You can stop with me,” said Lingard, looking at the man searchingly. + +“Hassim waits,” was the curt answer. + +“Did he tell you to return?” asked Lingard. + +“No! What need?” said the other in a surprised tone. + +Lingard seized his hand impulsively. + +“If I had ten men like you!” he cried. + +“We are ten, but they are twenty to one,” said Jaffir, simply. + +Lingard opened the door. + +“Do you want anything that a man can give?” he asked. + +The Malay had a moment of hesitation, and Lingard noticed the sunken +eyes, the prominent ribs, and the worn-out look of the man. + +“Speak out,” he urged with a smile; “the bearer of a gift must have a +reward.” + +“A drink of water and a handful of rice for strength to reach the +shore,” said Jaffir sturdily. “For over there”--he tossed his head--“we +had nothing to eat to-day.” + +“You shall have it--give it to you with my own hands,” muttered Lingard. + +He did so, and thus lowered himself in Jaffir's estimation for a time. +While the messenger, squatting on the floor, ate without haste but with +considerable earnestness, Lingard thought out a plan of action. In his +ignorance as to the true state of affairs in the country, to save +Hassim from the immediate danger of his position was all that he could +reasonably attempt. To that end Lingard proposed to swing out his +long-boat and send her close inshore to take off Hassim and his men. He +knew enough of Malays to feel sure that on such a night the besiegers, +now certain of success, and being, Jaffir said, in possession of +everything that could float, would not be very vigilant, especially on +the sea front of the stockade. The very fact of Jaffir having managed +to swim off undetected proved that much. The brig's boat could--when the +frequency of lightning abated--approach unseen close to the beach, and +the defeated party, either stealing out one by one or making a rush in a +body, would embark and be received in the brig. + +This plan was explained to Jaffir, who heard it without the slightest +mark of interest, being apparently too busy eating. When the last grain +of rice was gone, he stood up, took a long pull at the water bottle, +muttered: “I hear. Good. I will tell Hassim,” and tightening the rag +round his loins, prepared to go. “Give me time to swim ashore,” he said, +“and when the boat starts, put another light beside the one that burns +now like a star above your vessel. We shall see and understand. And +don't send the boat till there is less lightning: a boat is bigger than +a man in the water. Tell the rowers to pull for the palm-grove and cease +when an oar, thrust down with a strong arm, touches the bottom. Very +soon they will hear our hail; but if no one comes they must go away +before daylight. A chief may prefer death to life, and we who are left +are all of true heart. Do you understand, O big man?” + +“The chap has plenty of sense,” muttered Lingard to himself, and when +they stood side by side on the deck, he said: “But there may be enemies +on the beach, O Jaffir, and they also may shout to deceive my men. So +let your hail be Lightning! Will you remember?” + +For a time Jaffir seemed to be choking. + +“Lit-ing! Is that right? I say--is that right, O strong man?” Next +moment he appeared upright and shadowy on the rail. + +“Yes. That's right. Go now,” said Lingard, and Jaffir leaped off, +becoming invisible long before he struck the water. Then there was a +splash; after a while a spluttering voice cried faintly, “Lit-ing! Ah, +ha!” and suddenly the next thunder-squall burst upon the coast. In the +crashing flares of light Lingard had again and again the quick vision of +a white beach, the inclined palm-trees of the grove, the stockade by +the sea, the forest far away: a vast landscape mysterious and +still--Hassim's native country sleeping unmoved under the wrath and fire +of Heaven. + + + +IV + +A Traveller visiting Wajo to-day may, if he deserves the confidence of +the common people, hear the traditional account of the last civil war, +together with the legend of a chief and his sister, whose mother had +been a great princess suspected of sorcery and on her death-bed had +communicated to these two the secrets of the art of magic. The chief's +sister especially, “with the aspect of a child and the fearlessness of a +great fighter,” became skilled in casting spells. They were defeated by +the son of their uncle, because--will explain the narrator simply--“The +courage of us Wajo people is so great that magic can do nothing against +it. I fought in that war. We had them with their backs to the sea.” + And then he will go on to relate in an awed tone how on a certain night +“when there was such a thunderstorm as has been never heard of before +or since” a ship, resembling the ships of white men, appeared off the +coast, “as though she had sailed down from the clouds. She moved,” he +will affirm, “with her sails bellying against the wind; in size she was +like an island; the lightning played between her masts which were as +high as the summits of mountains; a star burned low through the clouds +above her. We knew it for a star at once because no flame of man's +kindling could have endured the wind and rain of that night. It was such +a night that we on the watch hardly dared look upon the sea. The heavy +rain was beating down our eyelids. And when day came, the ship was +nowhere to be seen, and in the stockade where the day before there were +a hundred or more at our mercy, there was no one. The chief, Hassim, was +gone, and the lady who was a princess in the country--and nobody knows +what became of them from that day to this. Sometimes traders from our +parts talk of having heard of them here, and heard of them there, but +these are the lies of men who go afar for gain. We who live in the +country believe that the ship sailed back into the clouds whence the +Lady's magic made her come. Did we not see the ship with our own eyes? +And as to Rajah Hassim and his sister, Mas Immada, some men say one +thing and some another, but God alone knows the truth.” + +Such is the traditional account of Lingard's visit to the shores of +Boni. And the truth is he came and went the same night; for, when the +dawn broke on a cloudy sky the brig, under reefed canvas and smothered +in sprays, was storming along to the southward on her way out of the +Gulf. Lingard, watching over the rapid course of his vessel, looked +ahead with anxious eyes and more than once asked himself with wonder, +why, after all, was he thus pressing her under all the sail she could +carry. His hair was blown about by the wind, his mind was full of care +and the indistinct shapes of many new thoughts, and under his feet, the +obedient brig dashed headlong from wave to wave. + +Her owner and commander did not know where he was going. That adventurer +had only a confused notion of being on the threshold of a big adventure. +There was something to be done, and he felt he would have to do it. It +was expected of him. The seas expected it; the land expected it. Men +also. The story of war and of suffering; Jaffir's display of fidelity, +the sight of Hassim and his sister, the night, the tempest, the coast +under streams of fire--all this made one inspiring manifestation of a +life calling to him distinctly for interference. But what appealed to +him most was the silent, the complete, unquestioning, and apparently +uncurious, trust of these people. They came away from death straight +into his arms as it were, and remained in them passive as though +there had been no such thing as doubt or hope or desire. This amazing +unconcern seemed to put him under a heavy load of obligation. + +He argued to himself that had not these defeated men expected everything +from him they could not have been so indifferent to his action. Their +dumb quietude stirred him more than the most ardent pleading. Not a +word, not a whisper, not a questioning look even! They did not ask! It +flattered him. He was also rather glad of it, because if the unconscious +part of him was perfectly certain of its action, he, himself, did not +know what to do with those bruised and battered beings a playful fate +had delivered suddenly into his hands. + +He had received the fugitives personally, had helped some over the rail; +in the darkness, slashed about by lightning, he had guessed that not one +of them was unwounded, and in the midst of tottering shapes he wondered +how on earth they had managed to reach the long-boat that had brought +them off. He caught unceremoniously in his arms the smallest of these +shapes and carried it into the cabin, then without looking at his light +burden ran up again on deck to get the brig under way. While shouting +out orders he was dimly aware of someone hovering near his elbow. It was +Hassim. + +“I am not ready for war,” he explained, rapidly, over his shoulder, +“and to-morrow there may be no wind.” Afterward for a time he forgot +everybody and everything while he conned the brig through the few +outlying dangers. But in half an hour, and running off with the wind on +the quarter, he was quite clear of the coast and breathed freely. It +was only then that he approached two others on that poop where he was +accustomed in moments of difficulty to commune alone with his craft. +Hassim had called his sister out of the cabin; now and then Lingard +could see them with fierce distinctness, side by side, and with twined +arms, looking toward the mysterious country that seemed at every flash +to leap away farther from the brig--unscathed and fading. + +The thought uppermost in Lingard's mind was: “What on earth am I going +to do with them?” And no one seemed to care what he would do. Jaffir +with eight others quartered on the main hatch, looked to each other's +wounds and conversed interminably in low tones, cheerful and quiet, like +well-behaved children. Each of them had saved his kris, but Lingard had +to make a distribution of cotton cloth out of his trade-goods. Whenever +he passed by them, they all looked after him gravely. Hassim and Immada +lived in the cuddy. The chief's sister took the air only in the evening +and those two could be heard every night, invisible and murmuring in the +shadows of the quarter-deck. Every Malay on board kept respectfully away +from them. + +Lingard, on the poop, listened to the soft voices, rising and falling, +in a melancholy cadence; sometimes the woman cried out as if in anger or +in pain. He would stop short. The sound of a deep sigh would float up +to him on the stillness of the night. Attentive stars surrounded the +wandering brig and on all sides their light fell through a vast silence +upon a noiseless sea. Lingard would begin again to pace the deck, +muttering to himself. + +“Belarab's the man for this job. His is the only place where I can look +for help, but I don't think I know enough to find it. I wish I had old +Jorgenson here--just for ten minutes.” + +This Jorgenson knew things that had happened a long time ago, and lived +amongst men efficient in meeting the accidents of the day, but who did +not care what would happen to-morrow and who had no time to remember +yesterday. Strictly speaking, he did not live amongst them. He only +appeared there from time to time. He lived in the native quarter, with +a native woman, in a native house standing in the middle of a plot +of fenced ground where grew plantains, and furnished only with mats, +cooking pots, a queer fishing net on two sticks, and a small mahogany +case with a lock and a silver plate engraved with the words “Captain H. +C. Jorgenson. Barque Wild Rose.” + +It was like an inscription on a tomb. The Wild Rose was dead, and so was +Captain H. C. Jorgenson, and the sextant case was all that was left +of them. Old Jorgenson, gaunt and mute, would turn up at meal times on +board any trading vessel in the Roads, and the stewards--Chinamen +or mulattos--would sulkily put on an extra plate without waiting for +orders. When the seamen traders foregathered noisily round a glittering +cluster of bottles and glasses on a lighted verandah, old Jorgenson +would emerge up the stairs as if from a dark sea, and, stepping up with +a kind of tottering jauntiness, would help himself in the first tumbler +to hand. + +“I drink to you all. No--no chair.” + +He would stand silent over the talking group. His taciturnity was as +eloquent as the repeated warning of the slave of the feast. His flesh +had gone the way of all flesh, his spirit had sunk in the turmoil of his +past, but his immense and bony frame survived as if made of iron. His +hands trembled but his eyes were steady. He was supposed to know details +about the end of mysterious men and of mysterious enterprises. He was an +evident failure himself, but he was believed to know secrets that would +make the fortune of any man; yet there was also a general impression +that his knowledge was not of that nature which would make it profitable +for a moderately prudent person. + +This powerful skeleton, dressed in faded blue serge and without any kind +of linen, existed anyhow. Sometimes, if offered the job, he piloted +a home ship through the Straits of Rhio, after, however, assuring the +captain: + +“You don't want a pilot; a man could go through with his eyes shut. But +if you want me, I'll come. Ten dollars.” + +Then, after seeing his charge clear of the last island of the group he +would go back thirty miles in a canoe, with two old Malays who seemed +to be in some way his followers. To travel thirty miles at sea under +the equatorial sun and in a cranky dug-out where once down you must not +move, is an achievement that requires the endurance of a fakir and the +virtue of a salamander. Ten dollars was cheap and generally he was in +demand. When times were hard he would borrow five dollars from any of +the adventurers with the remark: + +“I can't pay you back, very soon, but the girl must eat, and if you want +to know anything, I can tell you.” + +It was remarkable that nobody ever smiled at that “anything.” The usual +thing was to say: + +“Thank you, old man; when I am pushed for a bit of information I'll come +to you.” + +Jorgenson nodded then and would say: “Remember that unless you young +chaps are like we men who ranged about here years ago, what I could tell +you would be worse than poison.” + +It was from Jorgenson, who had his favourites with whom he was less +silent, that Lingard had heard of Darat-es-Salam, the “Shore of Refuge.” + Jorgenson had, as he expressed it, “known the inside of that country +just after the high old times when the white-clad Padris preached and +fought all over Sumatra till the Dutch shook in their shoes.” Only he +did not say “shook” and “shoes” but the above paraphrase conveys well +enough his contemptuous meaning. Lingard tried now to remember and piece +together the practical bits of old Jorgenson's amazing tales; but all +that had remained with him was an approximate idea of the locality and +a very strong but confused notion of the dangerous nature of its +approaches. He hesitated, and the brig, answering in her movements to +the state of the man's mind, lingered on the road, seemed to hesitate +also, swinging this way and that on the days of calm. + +It was just because of that hesitation that a big New York ship, loaded +with oil in cases for Japan, and passing through the Billiton passage, +sighted one morning a very smart brig being hove-to right in the +fair-way and a little to the east of Carimata. The lank skipper, in a +frock-coat, and the big mate with heavy moustaches, judged her almost +too pretty for a Britisher, and wondered at the man on board laying his +topsail to the mast for no reason that they could see. The big ship's +sails fanned her along, flapping in the light air, and when the brig was +last seen far astern she had still her mainyard aback as if waiting for +someone. But when, next day, a London tea-clipper passed on the same +track, she saw no pretty brig hesitating, all white and still at the +parting of the ways. All that night Lingard had talked with Hassim while +the stars streamed from east to west like an immense river of sparks +above their heads. Immada listened, sometimes exclaiming low, sometimes +holding her breath. She clapped her hands once. A faint dawn appeared. + +“You shall be treated like my father in the country,” Hassim was saying. +A heavy dew dripped off the rigging and the darkened sails were black +on the pale azure of the sky. “You shall be the father who advises for +good--” + +“I shall be a steady friend, and as a friend I want to be treated--no +more,” said Lingard. “Take back your ring.” + +“Why do you scorn my gift?” asked Hassim, with a sad and ironic smile. + +“Take it,” said Lingard. “It is still mine. How can I forget that, when +facing death, you thought of my safety? There are many dangers before +us. We shall be often separated--to work better for the same end. If +ever you and Immada need help at once and I am within reach, send me a +message with this ring and if I am alive I will not fail you.” He looked +around at the pale daybreak. “I shall talk to Belarab straight--like we +whites do. I have never seen him, but I am a strong man. Belarab must +help us to reconquer your country and when our end is attained I won't +let him eat you up.” + +Hassim took the ring and inclined his head. + +“It's time for us to be moving,” said Lingard. He felt a slight tug at +his sleeve. He looked back and caught Immada in the act of pressing her +forehead to the grey flannel. “Don't, child!” he said, softly. + +The sun rose above the faint blue line of the Shore of Refuge. + +The hesitation was over. The man and the vessel, working in accord, had +found their way to the faint blue shore. Before the sun had descended +half-way to its rest the brig was anchored within a gunshot of the slimy +mangroves, in a place where for a hundred years or more no white man's +vessel had been entrusted to the hold of the bottom. The adventurers +of two centuries ago had no doubt known of that anchorage for they were +very ignorant and incomparably audacious. If it is true, as some say, +that the spirits of the dead haunt the places where the living have +sinned and toiled, then they might have seen a white long-boat, pulled +by eight oars and steered by a man sunburnt and bearded, a cabbage-leaf +hat on head, and pistols in his belt, skirting the black mud, full of +twisted roots, in search of a likely opening. + +Creek after creek was passed and the boat crept on slowly like a +monstrous water-spider with a big body and eight slender legs. . . . Did +you follow with your ghostly eyes the quest of this obscure adventurer +of yesterday, you shades of forgotten adventurers who, in leather +jerkins and sweating under steel helmets, attacked with long rapiers the +palisades of the strange heathen, or, musket on shoulder and match in +cock, guarded timber blockhouses built upon the banks of rivers that +command good trade? You, who, wearied with the toil of fighting, slept +wrapped in frieze mantles on the sand of quiet beaches, dreaming of +fabulous diamonds and of a far-off home. + +“Here's an opening,” said Lingard to Hassim, who sat at his side, just +as the sun was setting away to his left. “Here's an opening big enough +for a ship. It's the entrance we are looking for, I believe. We shall +pull all night up this creek if necessary and it's the very devil if we +don't come upon Belarab's lair before daylight.” + +He shoved the tiller hard over and the boat, swerving sharply, vanished +from the coast. + +And perhaps the ghosts of old adventurers nodded wisely their ghostly +heads and exchanged the ghost of a wistful smile. + + + +V + +“What's the matter with King Tom of late?” would ask someone when, all +the cards in a heap on the table, the traders lying back in their chairs +took a spell from a hard gamble. + +“Tom has learned to hold his tongue, he must be up to some dam' good +thing,” opined another; while a man with hooked features and of German +extraction who was supposed to be agent for a Dutch crockery house--the +famous “Sphinx” mark--broke in resentfully: + +“Nefer mind him, shentlemens, he's matt, matt as a Marsh Hase. Dree +monats ago I call on board his prig to talk pizness. And he says like +dis--'Glear oudt.' 'Vat for?' I say. 'Glear oudt before I shuck you +oferboard.' Gott-for-dam! Iss dat the vay to talk pizness? I vant sell +him ein liddle case first chop grockery for trade and--” + +“Ha, ha, ha! I don't blame Tom,” interrupted the owner of a pearling +schooner, who had come into the Roads for stores. “Why, Mosey, there +isn't a mangy cannibal left in the whole of New Guinea that hasn't got a +cup and saucer of your providing. You've flooded the market, savee?” + +Jorgenson stood by, a skeleton at the gaming table. + +“Because you are a Dutch spy,” he said, suddenly, in an awful tone. + +The agent of the Sphinx mark jumped up in a sudden fury. + +“Vat? Vat? Shentlemens, you all know me!” Not a muscle moved in +the faces around. “Know me,” he stammered with wet lips. “Vat, funf +year--berfegtly acquaint--grockery--Verfluchte sponsher. Ich? Spy. Vat +for spy? Vordamte English pedlars!” + +The door slammed. “Is that so?” asked a New England voice. “Why don't +you let daylight into him?” + +“Oh, we can't do that here,” murmured one of the players. “Your deal, +Trench, let us get on.” + +“Can't you?” drawled the New England voice. “You law-abiding, +get-a-summons, act-of--parliament lot of sons of Belial--can't you? +Now, look a-here, these Colt pistols I am selling--” He took the pearler +aside and could be heard talking earnestly in the corner. “See--you +load--and--see?” There were rapid clicks. “Simple, isn't it? And if +any trouble--say with your divers”--_click, click, click_--“Through and +through--like a sieve--warranted to cure the worst kind of cussedness +in any nigger. Yes, siree! A case of twenty-four or single specimens--as +you like. No? Shot-guns--rifles? No! Waal, I guess you're of no use to +me, but I could do a deal with that Tom--what d'ye call him? Where d'ye +catch him? Everywhere--eh? Waal--that's nowhere. But I shall find him +some day--yes, siree.” + +Jorgenson, utterly disregarded, looked down dreamily at the falling +cards. “Spy--I tell you,” he muttered to himself. “If you want to know +anything, ask me.” + +When Lingard returned from Wajo--after an uncommonly long +absence--everyone remarked a great change. He was less talkative and +not so noisy, he was still hospitable but his hospitality was less +expansive, and the man who was never so happy as when discussing +impossibly wild projects with half a dozen congenial spirits often +showed a disinclination to meet his best friends. In a word, he +returned much less of a good fellow than he went away. His visits to the +Settlements were not less frequent, but much shorter; and when there he +was always in a hurry to be gone. + +During two years the brig had, in her way, as hard a life of it as the +man. Swift and trim she flitted amongst the islands of little known +groups. She could be descried afar from lonely headlands, a white +speck travelling fast over the blue sea; the apathetic keepers of rare +lighthouses dotting the great highway to the east came to know the cut +of her topsails. They saw her passing east, passing west. They had faint +glimpses of her flying with masts aslant in the mist of a rain-squall, +or could observe her at leisure, upright and with shivering sails, +forging ahead through a long day of unsteady airs. Men saw her battling +with a heavy monsoon in the Bay of Bengal, lying becalmed in the Java +Sea, or gliding out suddenly from behind a point of land, graceful and +silent in the clear moonlight. Her activity was the subject of excited +but low-toned conversations, which would be interrupted when her master +appeared. + +“Here he is. Came in last night,” whispered the gossiping group. + +Lingard did not see the covert glances of respect tempered by irony; he +nodded and passed on. + +“Hey, Tom! No time for a drink?” would shout someone. + +He would shake his head without looking back--far away already. + +Florid and burly he could be seen, for a day or two, getting out of +dusty gharries, striding in sunshine from the Occidental Bank to the +Harbour Office, crossing the Esplanade, disappearing down a street of +Chinese shops, while at his elbow and as tall as himself, old Jorgenson +paced along, lean and faded, obstinate and disregarded, like a haunting +spirit from the past eager to step back into the life of men. + +Lingard ignored this wreck of an adventurer, sticking to him closer than +his shadow, and the other did not try to attract attention. He waited +patiently at the doors of offices, would vanish at tiffin time, would +invariably turn up again in the evening and then he kept his place +till Lingard went aboard for the night. The police peons on duty looked +disdainfully at the phantom of Captain H. C. Jorgenson, Barque Wild +Rose, wandering on the silent quay or standing still for hours at the +edge of the sombre roadstead speckled by the anchor lights of ships--an +adventurous soul longing to recross the waters of oblivion. + +The sampan-men, sculling lazily homeward past the black hull of the brig +at anchor, could hear far into the night the drawl of the New England +voice escaping through the lifted panes of the cabin skylight. Snatches +of nasal sentences floated in the stillness around the still craft. + +“Yes, siree! Mexican war rifles--good as new--six in a case--my people +in Baltimore--that's so. Hundred and twenty rounds thrown in for +each specimen--marked to suit your requirements. Suppose--musical +instruments, this side up with care--how's that for your taste? No, no! +Cash down--my people in Balt--Shooting sea-gulls you say? Waal! It's +a risky business--see here--ten per cent. discount--it's out of my own +pocket--” + +As time wore on, and nothing happened, at least nothing that one could +hear of, the excitement died out. Lingard's new attitude was accepted +as only “his way.” There was nothing in it, maintained some. Others +dissented. A good deal of curiosity, however, remained and the faint +rumour of something big being in preparation followed him into every +harbour he went to, from Rangoon to Hongkong. + +He felt nowhere so much at home as when his brig was anchored on the +inner side of the great stretch of shoals. The centre of his life had +shifted about four hundred miles--from the Straits of Malacca to the +Shore of Refuge--and when there he felt himself within the circle of +another existence, governed by his impulse, nearer his desire. Hassim +and Immada would come down to the coast and wait for him on the islet. +He always left them with regret. + +At the end of the first stage in each trip, Jorgenson waited for him +at the top of the boat-stairs and without a word fell into step at his +elbow. They seldom exchanged three words in a day; but one evening about +six months before Lingard's last trip, as they were crossing the +short bridge over the canal where native craft lie moored in clusters, +Jorgenson lengthened his stride and came abreast. It was a moonlight +night and nothing stirred on earth but the shadows of high clouds. +Lingard took off his hat and drew in a long sigh in the tepid breeze. +Jorgenson spoke suddenly in a cautious tone: “The new Rajah Tulla +smokes opium and is sometimes dangerous to speak to. There is a lot of +discontent in Wajo amongst the big people.” + +“Good! Good!” whispered Lingard, excitedly, off his guard for once. +Then--“How the devil do you know anything about it?” he asked. + +Jorgenson pointed at the mass of praus, coasting boats, and sampans +that, jammed up together in the canal, lay covered with mats and flooded +by the cold moonlight with here and there a dim lantern burning amongst +the confusion of high sterns, spars, masts and lowered sails. + +“There!” he said, as they moved on, and their hatted and clothed shadows +fell heavily on the queer-shaped vessels that carry the fortunes of +brown men upon a shallow sea. “There! I can sit with them, I can talk +to them, I can come and go as I like. They know me now--it's +time-thirty-five years. Some of them give a plate of rice and a bit of +fish to the white man. That's all I get--after thirty-five years--given +up to them.” + +He was silent for a time. + +“I was like you once,” he added, and then laying his hand on Lingard's +sleeve, murmured--“Are you very deep in this thing?” + +“To the very last cent,” said Lingard, quietly, and looking straight +before him. + +The glitter of the roadstead went out, and the masts of anchored ships +vanished in the invading shadow of a cloud. + +“Drop it,” whispered Jorgenson. + +“I am in debt,” said Lingard, slowly, and stood still. + +“Drop it!” + +“Never dropped anything in my life.” + +“Drop it!” + +“By God, I won't!” cried Lingard, stamping his foot. + +There was a pause. + +“I was like you--once,” repeated Jorgenson. “Five and thirty +years--never dropped anything. And what you can do is only child's play +to some jobs I have had on my hands--understand that--great man as you +are, Captain Lingard of the Lightning. . . . You should have seen the +Wild Rose,” he added with a sudden break in his voice. + +Lingard leaned over the guard-rail of the pier. Jorgenson came closer. + +“I set fire to her with my own hands!” he said in a vibrating tone and +very low, as if making a monstrous confession. + +“Poor devil,” muttered Lingard, profoundly moved by the tragic enormity +of the act. “I suppose there was no way out?” + +“I wasn't going to let her rot to pieces in some Dutch port,” said +Jorgenson, gloomily. “Did you ever hear of Dawson?” + +“Something--I don't remember now--” muttered Lingard, who felt a chill +down his back at the idea of his own vessel decaying slowly in some +Dutch port. “He died--didn't he?” he asked, absently, while he +wondered whether he would have the pluck to set fire to the brig--on an +emergency. + +“Cut his throat on the beach below Fort Rotterdam,” said Jorgenson. His +gaunt figure wavered in the unsteady moonshine as though made of mist. +“Yes. He broke some trade regulation or other and talked big about +law-courts and legal trials to the lieutenant of the Komet. 'Certainly,' +says the hound. 'Jurisdiction of Macassar, I will take your schooner +there.' Then coming into the roads he tows her full tilt on a ledge of +rocks on the north side--smash! When she was half full of water he takes +his hat off to Dawson. 'There's the shore,' says he--'go and get your +legal trial, you--Englishman--'” He lifted a long arm and shook his fist +at the moon which dodged suddenly behind a cloud. “All was lost. Poor +Dawson walked the streets for months barefooted and in rags. Then one +day he begged a knife from some charitable soul, went down to take a +last look at the wreck, and--” + +“I don't interfere with the Dutch,” interrupted Lingard, impatiently. “I +want Hassim to get back his own--” + +“And suppose the Dutch want the things just so,” returned Jorgenson. +“Anyway there is a devil in such work--drop it!” + +“Look here,” said Lingard, “I took these people off when they were in +their last ditch. That means something. I ought not to have meddled and +it would have been all over in a few hours. I must have meant something +when I interfered, whether I knew it or not. I meant it then--and did +not know it. Very well. I mean it now--and do know it. When you save +people from death you take a share in their life. That's how I look at +it.” + +Jorgenson shook his head. + +“Foolishness!” he cried, then asked softly in a voice that trembled with +curiosity--“Where did you leave them?” + +“With Belarab,” breathed out Lingard. “You knew him in the old days.” + +“I knew him, I knew his father,” burst out the other in an excited +whisper. “Whom did I not know? I knew Sentot when he was King of the +South Shore of Java and the Dutch offered a price for his head--enough +to make any man's fortune. He slept twice on board the Wild Rose when +things had begun to go wrong with him. I knew him, I knew all his +chiefs, the priests, the fighting men, the old regent who lost heart and +went over to the Dutch, I knew--” he stammered as if the words could not +come out, gave it up and sighed--“Belarab's father escaped with me,” he +began again, quietly, “and joined the Padris in Sumatra. He rose to be +a great leader. Belarab was a youth then. Those were the times. I ranged +the coast--and laughed at the cruisers; I saw every battle fought in the +Battak country--and I saw the Dutch run; I was at the taking of Singal +and escaped. I was the white man who advised the chiefs of Manangkabo. +There was a lot about me in the Dutch papers at the time. They said I +was a Frenchman turned Mohammedan--” he swore a great oath, and, reeling +against the guard-rail, panted, muttering curses on newspapers. + +“Well, Belarab has the job in hand,” said Lingard, composedly. “He is +the chief man on the Shore of Refuge. There are others, of course. He +has sent messages north and south. We must have men.” + +“All the devils unchained,” said Jorgenson. “You have done it and +now--look out--look out. . . .” + +“Nothing can go wrong as far as I can see,” argued Lingard. “They all +know what's to be done. I've got them in hand. You don't think Belarab +unsafe? Do you?” + +“Haven't seen him for fifteen years--but the whole thing's unsafe,” + growled Jorgenson. + +“I tell you I've fixed it so that nothing can go wrong. It would be +better if I had a white man over there to look after things generally. +There is a good lot of stores and arms--and Belarab would bear +watching--no doubt. Are you in any want?” he added, putting his hand in +his pocket. + +“No, there's plenty to eat in the house,” answered Jorgenson, curtly. +“Drop it,” he burst out. “It would be better for you to jump overboard +at once. Look at me. I came out a boy of eighteen. I can speak English, +I can speak Dutch, I can speak every cursed lingo of these islands--I +remember things that would make your hair stand on end--but I have +forgotten the language of my own country. I've traded, I've fought, I +never broke my word to white or native. And, look at me. If it hadn't +been for the girl I would have died in a ditch ten years ago. Everything +left me--youth, money, strength, hope--the very sleep. But she stuck by +the wreck.” + +“That says a lot for her and something for you,” said Lingard, cheerily. + +Jorgenson shook his head. + +“That's the worst of all,” he said with slow emphasis. “That's the +end. I came to them from the other side of the earth and they took me +and--see what they made of me.” + +“What place do you belong to?” asked Lingard. + +“Tromso,” groaned out Jorgenson; “I will never see snow again,” he +sobbed out, his face in his hands. + +Lingard looked at him in silence. + +“Would you come with me?” he said. “As I told you, I am in want of a--” + +“I would see you damned first!” broke out the other, savagely. “I am +an old white loafer, but you don't get me to meddle in their infernal +affairs. They have a devil of their own--” + +“The thing simply can't fail. I've calculated every move. I've guarded +against everything. I am no fool.” + +“Yes--you are. Good-night.” + +“Well, good-bye,” said Lingard, calmly. + +He stepped into his boat, and Jorgenson walked up the jetty. Lingard, +clearing the yoke lines, heard him call out from a distance: + +“Drop it!” + +“I sail before sunrise,” he shouted in answer, and went on board. + +When he came up from his cabin after an uneasy night, it was dark yet. A +lank figure strolled across the deck. + +“Here I am,” said Jorgenson, huskily. “Die there or here--all one. But, +if I die there, remember the girl must eat.” + +Lingard was one of the few who had seen Jorgenson's girl. She had a +wrinkled brown face, a lot of tangled grey hair, a few black stumps +of teeth, and had been married to him lately by an enterprising young +missionary from Bukit Timah. What her appearance might have been once +when Jorgenson gave for her three hundred dollars and several brass +guns, it was impossible to say. All that was left of her youth was a +pair of eyes, undimmed and mournful, which, when she was alone, seemed +to look stonily into the past of two lives. When Jorgenson was near +they followed his movements with anxious pertinacity. And now within the +sarong thrown over the grey head they were dropping unseen tears while +Jorgenson's girl rocked herself to and fro, squatting alone in a corner +of the dark hut. + +“Don't you worry about that,” said Lingard, grasping Jorgenson's hand. +“She shall want for nothing. All I expect you to do is to look a little +after Belarab's morals when I am away. One more trip I must make, and +then we shall be ready to go ahead. I've foreseen every single thing. +Trust me!” + +In this way did the restless shade of Captain H. C. Jorgenson recross +the water of oblivion to step back into the life of men. + + + +VI + +For two years, Lingard, who had thrown himself body and soul into the +great enterprise, had lived in the long intoxication of slowly preparing +success. No thought of failure had crossed his mind, and no price +appeared too heavy to pay for such a magnificent achievement. It was +nothing less than bringing Hassim triumphantly back to that country +seen once at night under the low clouds and in the incessant tumult of +thunder. When at the conclusion of some long talk with Hassim, who for +the twentieth time perhaps had related the story of his wrongs and his +struggle, he lifted his big arm and shaking his fist above his head, +shouted: “We will stir them up. We will wake up the country!” he was, +without knowing it in the least, making a complete confession of the +idealism hidden under the simplicity of his strength. He would wake up +the country! That was the fundamental and unconscious emotion on which +were engrafted his need of action, the primitive sense of what was due +to justice, to gratitude, to friendship, the sentimental pity for the +hard lot of Immada--poor child--the proud conviction that of all the +men in the world, in his world, he alone had the means and the pluck “to +lift up the big end” of such an adventure. + +Money was wanted and men were wanted, and he had obtained enough of both +in two years from that day when, pistols in his belt and a cabbage-leaf +hat on head, he had unexpectedly, and at early dawn, confronted in +perfect silence that mysterious Belarab, who himself was for a moment +too astounded for speech at the sight of a white face. + +The sun had not yet cleared the forests of the interior, but a sky +already full of light arched over a dark oval lagoon, over wide fields +as yet full of shadows, that seemed slowly changing into the whiteness +of the morning mist. There were huts, fences, palisades, big houses +that, erected on lofty piles, were seen above the tops of clustered +fruit trees, as if suspended in the air. + +Such was the aspect of Belarab's settlement when Lingard set his eyes +on it for the first time. There were all these things, a great number +of faces at the back of the spare and muffled-up figure confronting him, +and in the swiftly increasing light a complete stillness that made the +murmur of the word “Marhaba” (welcome), pronounced at last by the chief, +perfectly audible to every one of his followers. The bodyguards who +stood about him in black skull-caps and with long-shafted lances, +preserved an impassive aspect. Across open spaces men could be seen +running to the waterside. A group of women standing on a low knoll gazed +intently, and nothing of them but the heads showed above the unstirring +stalks of a maize field. Suddenly within a cluster of empty huts near +by the voice of an invisible hag was heard scolding with shrill fury an +invisible young girl: + +“Strangers! You want to see the strangers? O devoid of all decency! +Must I so lame and old husk the rice alone? May evil befall thee and the +strangers! May they never find favour! May they be pursued with swords! +I am old. I am old. There is no good in strangers! O girl! May they +burn.” + +“Welcome,” repeated Belarab, gravely, and looking straight into +Lingard's eyes. + +Lingard spent six days that time in Belarab's settlement. Of these, +three were passed in observing each other without a question being asked +or a hint given as to the object in view. Lingard lounged on the fine +mats with which the chief had furnished a small bamboo house outside a +fortified enclosure, where a white flag with a green border fluttered on +a high and slender pole but still below the walls of long, high-roofed +buildings, raised forty feet or more on hard-wood posts. + +Far away the inland forests were tinted a shimmering blue, like the +forests of a dream. On the seaward side the belt of great trunks and +matted undergrowth came to the western shore of the oval lagoon; and in +the pure freshness of the air the groups of brown houses reflected in +the water or seen above the waving green of the fields, the clumps of +palm trees, the fenced-in plantations, the groves of fruit trees, made +up a picture of sumptuous prosperity. + +Above the buildings, the men, the women, the still sheet of water and +the great plain of crops glistening with dew, stretched the exalted, +the miraculous peace of a cloudless sky. And no road seemed to lead +into this country of splendour and stillness. One could not believe the +unquiet sea was so near, with its gifts and its unending menace. Even +during the months of storms, the great clamour rising from the whitened +expanse of the Shallows dwelt high in the air in a vast murmur, now +feeble now stronger, that seemed to swing back and forth on the wind +above the earth without any one being able to tell whence it came. It +was like the solemn chant of a waterfall swelling and dying away above +the woods, the fields, above the roofs of houses and the heads of men, +above the secret peace of that hidden and flourishing settlement of +vanquished fanatics, fugitives, and outcasts. + +Every afternoon Belarab, followed by an escort that stopped outside +the door, entered alone the house of his guest. He gave the salutation, +inquired after his health, conversed about insignificant things with an +inscrutable mien. But all the time the steadfast gaze of his thoughtful +eyes seemed to seek the truth within that white face. In the cool of +the evening, before the sun had set, they talked together, passing and +repassing between the rugged pillars of the grove near the gate of the +stockade. The escort away in the oblique sunlight, followed with their +eyes the strolling figures appearing and vanishing behind the trees. +Many words were pronounced, but nothing was said that would disclose +the thoughts of the two men. They clasped hands demonstratively before +separating, and the heavy slam of the gate was followed by the triple +thud of the wooden bars dropped into iron clamps. + +On the third night, Lingard was awakened from a light sleep by the sound +of whispering outside. A black shadow obscured the stars in the doorway, +and a man entering suddenly, stood above his couch while another could +be seen squatting--a dark lump on the threshold of the hut. + +“Fear not. I am Belarab,” said a cautious voice. + +“I was not afraid,” whispered Lingard. “It is the man coming in the dark +and without warning who is in danger.” + +“And did you not come to me without warning? I said 'welcome'--it was as +easy for me to say 'kill him.'” + +“You were within reach of my arm. We would have died together,” retorted +Lingard, quietly. + +The other clicked his tongue twice, and his indistinct shape seemed to +sink half-way through the floor. + +“It was not written thus before we were born,” he said, sitting +cross-legged near the mats, and in a deadened voice. “Therefore you are +my guest. Let the talk between us be straight like the shaft of a spear +and shorter than the remainder of this night. What do you want?” + +“First, your long life,” answered Lingard, leaning forward toward the +gleam of a pair of eyes, “and then--your help.” + + + +VII + +The faint murmur of the words spoken on that night lingered for a long +time in Lingard's ears, more persistent than the memory of an uproar; he +looked with a fixed gaze at the stars burning peacefully in the square +of the doorway, while after listening in silence to all he had to say, +Belarab, as if seduced by the strength and audacity of the white man, +opened his heart without reserve. He talked of his youth surrounded by +the fury of fanaticism and war, of battles on the hills, of +advances through the forests, of men's unswerving piety, of their +unextinguishable hate. Not a single wandering cloud obscured the gentle +splendour of the rectangular patch of starlight framed in the opaque +blackness of the hut. Belarab murmured on of a succession of reverses, +of the ring of disasters narrowing round men's fading hopes and +undiminished courage. He whispered of defeat and flight, of the days +of despair, of the nights without sleep, of unending pursuit, of the +bewildered horror and sombre fury, of their women and children killed in +the stockade before the besieged sallied forth to die. + +“I have seen all this before I was in years a man,” he cried, low. + +His voice vibrated. In the pause that succeeded they heard a light sigh +of the sleeping follower who, clasping his legs above his ankles, rested +his forehead on his knees. + +“And there was amongst us,” began Belarab again, “one white man who +remained to the end, who was faithful with his strength, with his +courage, with his wisdom. A great man. He had great riches but a greater +heart.” + +The memory of Jorgenson, emaciated and grey-haired, and trying to borrow +five dollars to get something to eat for the girl, passed before Lingard +suddenly upon the pacific glitter of the stars. + +“He resembled you,” pursued Belarab, abruptly. “We escaped with him, and +in his ship came here. It was a solitude. The forest came near to the +sheet of water, the rank grass waved upon the heads of tall men. Telal, +my father, died of weariness; we were only a few, and we all nearly died +of trouble and sadness--here. On this spot! And no enemies could tell +where we had gone. It was the Shore of Refuge--and starvation.” + +He droned on in the night, with rising and falling inflections. He told +how his desperate companions wanted to go out and die fighting on the +sea against the ships from the west, the ships with high sides and white +sails; and how, unflinching and alone, he kept them battling with the +thorny bush, with the rank grass, with the soaring and enormous trees. +Lingard, leaning on his elbow and staring through the door, recalled +the image of the wide fields outside, sleeping now, in an immensity of +serenity and starlight. This quiet and almost invisible talker had done +it all; in him was the origin, the creation, the fate; and in the +wonder of that thought the shadowy murmuring figure acquired a gigantic +greatness of significance, as if it had been the embodiment of some +natural force, of a force forever masterful and undying. + +“And even now my life is unsafe as if I were their enemy,” said Belarab, +mournfully. “Eyes do not kill, nor angry words; and curses have no +power, else the Dutch would not grow fat living on our land, and I would +not be alive to-night. Do you understand? Have you seen the men who +fought in the old days? They have not forgotten the times of war. I have +given them homes and quiet hearts and full bellies. I alone. And they +curse my name in the dark, in each other's ears--because they can never +forget.” + +This man, whose talk had been of war and violence, discovered +unexpectedly a passionate craving for security and peace. No one would +understand him. Some of those who would not understand had died. His +white teeth gleamed cruelly in the dark. But there were others he could +not kill. The fools. He wanted the land and the people in it to be +forgotten as if they had been swallowed by the sea. But they had neither +wisdom nor patience. Could they not wait? They chanted prayers five +times every day, but they had not the faith. + +“Death comes to all--and to the believers the end of trouble. But you +white men who are too strong for us, you also die. You die. And there +is a Paradise as great as all earth and all Heaven together, but not for +you--not for you!” + +Lingard, amazed, listened without a sound. The sleeper snored faintly. +Belarab continued very calm after this almost involuntary outburst of +a consoling belief. He explained that he wanted somebody at his back, +somebody strong and whom he could trust, some outside force that would +awe the unruly, that would inspire their ignorance with fear, and make +his rule secure. He groped in the dark and seizing Lingard's arm above +the elbow pressed it with force--then let go. And Lingard understood why +his temerity had been so successful. + +Then and there, in return for Lingard's open support, a few guns and a +little money, Belarab promised his help for the conquest of Wajo. There +was no doubt he could find men who would fight. He could send messages +to friends at a distance and there were also many unquiet spirits in his +own district ready for any adventure. He spoke of these men with +fierce contempt and an angry tenderness, in mingled accents of envy and +disdain. He was wearied by their folly, by their recklessness, by their +impatience--and he seemed to resent these as if they had been gifts of +which he himself had been deprived by the fatality of his wisdom. They +would fight. When the time came Lingard had only to speak, and a sign +from him would send them to a vain death--those men who could not wait +for an opportunity on this earth or for the eternal revenge of Heaven. + +He ceased, and towered upright in the gloom. + +“Awake!” he exclaimed, low, bending over the sleeping man. + +Their black shapes, passing in turn, eclipsed for two successive moments +the glitter of the stars, and Lingard, who had not stirred, remained +alone. He lay back full length with an arm thrown across his eyes. + +When three days afterward he left Belarab's settlement, it was on a calm +morning of unclouded peace. All the boats of the brig came up into the +lagoon armed and manned to make more impressive the solemn fact of a +concluded alliance. A staring crowd watched his imposing departure in +profound silence and with an increased sense of wonder at the mystery of +his apparition. The progress of the boats was smooth and slow while they +crossed the wide lagoon. Lingard looked back once. A great stillness had +laid its hand over the earth, the sky, and the men; upon the immobility +of landscape and people. Hassim and Immada, standing out clearly by +the side of the chief, raised their arms in a last salutation; and the +distant gesture appeared sad, futile, lost in space, like a sign of +distress made by castaways in the vain hope of an impossible help. + +He departed, he returned, he went away again, and each time those two +figures, lonely on some sandbank of the Shallows, made at him the same +futile sign of greeting or good-bye. Their arms at each movement seemed +to draw closer around his heart the bonds of a protecting affection. +He worked prosaically, earning money to pay the cost of the romantic +necessity that had invaded his life. And the money ran like water out of +his hands. The owner of the New England voice remitted not a little of +it to his people in Baltimore. But import houses in the ports of the +Far East had their share. It paid for a fast prau which, commanded by +Jaffir, sailed into unfrequented bays and up unexplored rivers, carrying +secret messages, important news, generous bribes. A good part of it went +to the purchase of the Emma. + +The Emma was a battered and decrepit old schooner that, in the decline +of her existence, had been much ill-used by a paunchy white trader of +cunning and gluttonous aspect. This man boasted outrageously afterward +of the good price he had got “for that rotten old hooker of mine--you +know.” The Emma left port mysteriously in company with the brig and +henceforth vanished from the seas forever. Lingard had her towed up the +creek and ran her aground upon that shore of the lagoon farthest from +Belarab's settlement. There had been at that time a great rise of +waters, which retiring soon after left the old craft cradled in the mud, +with her bows grounded high between the trunks of two big trees, and +leaning over a little as though after a hard life she had settled +wearily to an everlasting rest. There, a few months later, Jorgenson +found her when, called back into the life of men, he reappeared, +together with Lingard, in the Land of Refuge. + +“She is better than a fort on shore,” said Lingard, as side by side they +leant over the taffrail, looking across the lagoon on the houses and +palm groves of the settlement. “All the guns and powder I have got +together so far are stored in her. Good idea, wasn't it? There will +be, perhaps, no other such flood for years, and now they can't come +alongside unless right under the counter, and only one boat at a time. +I think you are perfectly safe here; you could keep off a whole fleet of +boats; she isn't easy to set fire to; the forest in front is better than +a wall. Well?” + +Jorgenson assented in grunts. He looked at the desolate emptiness of the +decks, at the stripped spars, at the dead body of the dismantled little +vessel that would know the life of the seas no more. The gloom of the +forest fell on her, mournful like a winding sheet. The bushes of the +bank tapped their twigs on the bluff of her bows, and a pendent spike of +tiny brown blossoms swung to and fro over the ruins of her windlass. + +Hassim's companions garrisoned the old hulk, and Jorgenson, left +in charge, prowled about from stem to stern, taciturn and anxiously +faithful to his trust. He had been received with astonishment, +respect--and awe. Belarab visited him often. Sometimes those whom he had +known in their prime years ago, during a struggle for faith and life, +would come to talk with the white man. Their voices were like the echoes +of stirring events, in the pale glamour of a youth gone by. They nodded +their old heads. Do you remember?--they said. He remembered only too +well! He was like a man raised from the dead, for whom the fascinating +trust in the power of life is tainted by the black scepticism of the +grave. + +Only at times the invincible belief in the reality of existence would +come back, insidious and inspiring. He squared his shoulders, held +himself straight, and walked with a firmer step. He felt a glow within +him and the quickened beat of his heart. Then he calculated in silent +excitement Lingard's chances of success, and he lived for a time with +the life of that other man who knew nothing of the black scepticism of +the grave. The chances were good, very good. + +“I should like to see it through,” Jorgenson muttered to himself +ardently; and his lustreless eyes would flash for a moment. + + + +PART III. THE CAPTURE + +I + +“Some people,” said Lingard, “go about the world with their eyes shut. +You are right. The sea is free to all of us. Some work on it, and some +play the fool on it--and I don't care. Only you may take it from me +that I will let no man's play interfere with my work. You want me to +understand you are a very great man--” + +Mr. Travers smiled, coldly. + +“Oh, yes,” continued Lingard, “I understand that well enough. But +remember you are very far from home, while I, here, I am where I belong. +And I belong where I am. I am just Tom Lingard, no more, no less, +wherever I happen to be, and--you may ask--” A sweep of his hand along +the western horizon entrusted with perfect confidence the remainder of +his speech to the dumb testimony of the sea. + +He had been on board the yacht for more than an hour, and nothing, +for him, had come of it but the birth of an unreasoning hate. To the +unconscious demand of these people's presence, of their ignorance, of +their faces, of their voices, of their eyes, he had nothing to give but +a resentment that had in it a germ of reckless violence. He could tell +them nothing because he had not the means. Their coming at this moment, +when he had wandered beyond that circle which race, memories, early +associations, all the essential conditions of one's origin, trace round +every man's life, deprived him in a manner of the power of speech. He +was confounded. It was like meeting exacting spectres in a desert. + +He stared at the open sea, his arms crossed, with a reflective +fierceness. His very appearance made him utterly different from everyone +on board that vessel. The grey shirt, the blue sash, one rolled-up +sleeve baring a sculptural forearm, the negligent masterfulness of his +tone and pose were very distasteful to Mr. Travers, who, having made +up his mind to wait for some kind of official assistance, regarded +the intrusion of that inexplicable man with suspicion. From the moment +Lingard came on board the yacht, every eye in that vessel had been fixed +upon him. Only Carter, within earshot and leaning with his elbow upon +the rail, stared down at the deck as if overcome with drowsiness or lost +in thought. + +Of the three other persons aft, Mr. Travers kept his hands in the side +pockets of his jacket and did not conceal his growing disgust. + +On the other side of the deck, a lady, in a long chair, had a passive +attitude that to Mr. d'Alcacer, standing near her, seemed characteristic +of the manner in which she accepted the necessities of existence. Years +before, as an attache of his Embassy in London, he had found her an +interesting hostess. She was even more interesting now, since a chance +meeting and Mr. Travers' offer of a passage to Batavia had given him an +opportunity of studying the various shades of scorn which he suspected +to be the secret of her acquiescence in the shallowness of events and +the monotony of a worldly existence. + +There were things that from the first he had not been able to +understand; for instance, why she should have married Mr. Travers. It +must have been from ambition. He could not help feeling that such a +successful mistake would explain completely her scorn and also her +acquiescence. The meeting in Manila had been utterly unexpected to +him, and he accounted for it to his uncle, the Governor-General of the +colony, by pointing out that Englishmen, when worsted in the struggle +of love or politics, travel extensively, as if by encompassing a large +portion of earth's surface they hoped to gather fresh strength for a +renewed contest. As to himself, he judged--but did not say--that his +contest with fate was ended, though he also travelled, leaving behind +him in the capitals of Europe a story in which there was nothing +scandalous but the publicity of an excessive feeling, and nothing more +tragic than the early death of a woman whose brilliant perfections were +no better known to the great world than the discreet and passionate +devotion she had innocently inspired. + +The invitation to join the yacht was the culminating point of many +exchanged civilities, and was mainly prompted by Mr. Travers' desire +to have somebody to talk to. D'Alcacer had accepted with the reckless +indifference of a man to whom one method of flight from a relentless +enemy is as good as another. Certainly the prospect of listening to long +monologues on commerce, administration, and politics did not promise +much alleviation to his sorrow; and he could not expect much else from +Mr. Travers, whose life and thought, ignorant of human passion, were +devoted to extracting the greatest possible amount of personal advantage +from human institutions. D'Alcacer found, however, that he could attain +a measure of forgetfulness--the most precious thing for him now--in the +society of Edith Travers. + +She had awakened his curiosity, which he thought nothing and nobody on +earth could do any more. + +These two talked of things indifferent and interesting, certainly not +connected with human institutions, and only very slightly with human +passions; but d'Alcacer could not help being made aware of her latent +capacity for sympathy developed in those who are disenchanted with life +or death. How far she was disenchanted he did not know, and did +not attempt to find out. This restraint was imposed upon him by the +chivalrous respect he had for the secrets of women and by a conviction +that deep feeling is often impenetrably obscure, even to those it +masters for their inspiration or their ruin. He believed that even she +herself would never know; but his grave curiosity was satisfied by the +observation of her mental state, and he was not sorry that the stranding +of the yacht prolonged his opportunity. + +Time passed on that mudbank as well as anywhere else, and it was not +from a multiplicity of events, but from the lapse of time alone, that +he expected relief. Yet in the sameness of days upon the Shallows, time +flowing ceaselessly, flowed imperceptibly; and, since every man clings +to his own, be it joy, be it grief, he was pleased after the unrest +of his wanderings to be able to fancy the whole universe and even time +itself apparently come to a standstill; as if unwilling to take him away +further from his sorrow, which was fading indeed but undiminished, as +things fade, not in the distance but in the mist. + + +II + +D'Alcacer was a man of nearly forty, lean and sallow, with hollow eyes +and a drooping brown moustache. His gaze was penetrating and direct, his +smile frequent and fleeting. He observed Lingard with great interest. +He was attracted by that elusive something--a line, a fold, perhaps +the form of the eye, the droop of an eyelid, the curve of a cheek, that +trifling trait which on no two faces on earth is alike, that in each +face is the very foundation of expression, as if, all the rest being +heredity, mystery, or accident, it alone had been shaped consciously by +the soul within. + +Now and then he bent slightly over the slow beat of a red fan in the +curve of the deck chair to say a few words to Mrs. Travers, who answered +him without looking up, without a modulation of tone or a play of +feature, as if she had spoken from behind the veil of an immense +indifference stretched between her and all men, between her heart and +the meaning of events, between her eyes and the shallow sea which, like +her gaze, appeared profound, forever stilled, and seemed, far off in the +distance of a faint horizon, beyond the reach of eye, beyond the power +of hand or voice, to lose itself in the sky. + +Mr. Travers stepped aside, and speaking to Carter, overwhelmed him with +reproaches. + +“You misunderstood your instructions,” murmured Mr. Travers rapidly. +“Why did you bring this man here? I am surprised--” + +“Not half so much as I was last night,” growled the young seaman, +without any reverence in his tone, very provoking to Mr. Travers. + +“I perceive now you were totally unfit for the mission I entrusted you +with,” went on the owner of the yacht. + +“It's he who got hold of me,” said Carter. “Haven't you heard him +yourself, sir?” + +“Nonsense,” whispered Mr. Travers, angrily. “Have you any idea what his +intentions may be?” + +“I half believe,” answered Carter, “that his intention was to shoot me +in his cabin last night if I--” + +“That's not the point,” interrupted Mr. Travers. “Have you any opinion +as to his motives in coming here?” + +Carter raised his weary, bloodshot eyes in a face scarlet and peeling as +though it had been licked by a flame. “I know no more than you do, sir. +Last night when he had me in that cabin of his, he said he would just as +soon shoot me as let me go to look for any other help. It looks as if +he were desperately bent upon getting a lot of salvage money out of a +stranded yacht.” + +Mr. Travers turned away, and, for a moment, appeared immersed in deep +thought. This accident of stranding upon a deserted coast was annoying +as a loss of time. He tried to minimize it by putting in order the notes +collected during the year's travel in the East. He had sent off for +assistance; his sailing-master, very crestfallen, made bold to say that +the yacht would most likely float at the next spring tides; d'Alcacer, +a person of undoubted nobility though of inferior principles, was better +than no company, in so far at least that he could play picquet. + +Mr. Travers had made up his mind to wait. Then suddenly this rough +man, looking as if he had stepped out from an engraving in a book about +buccaneers, broke in upon his resignation with mysterious allusions to +danger, which sounded absurd yet were disturbing; with dark and warning +sentences that sounded like disguised menaces. + +Mr. Travers had a heavy and rather long chin which he shaved. His eyes +were blue, a chill, naive blue. He faced Lingard untouched by travel, +without a mark of weariness or exposure, with the air of having been +born invulnerable. He had a full, pale face; and his complexion was +perfectly colourless, yet amazingly fresh, as if he had been reared in +the shade. + +He thought: + +“I must put an end to this preposterous hectoring. I won't be +intimidated into paying for services I don't need.” + +Mr. Travers felt a strong disgust for the impudence of the attempt; and +all at once, incredibly, strangely, as though the thing, like a contest +with a rival or a friend, had been of profound importance to his career, +he felt inexplicably elated at the thought of defeating the secret +purposes of that man. + +Lingard, unconscious of everything and everybody, contemplated the sea. +He had grown on it, he had lived with it; it had enticed him away from +home; on it his thoughts had expanded and his hand had found work to do. +It had suggested endeavour, it had made him owner and commander of the +finest brig afloat; it had lulled him into a belief in himself, in +his strength, in his luck--and suddenly, by its complicity in a fatal +accident, it had brought him face to face with a difficulty that looked +like the beginning of disaster. + +He had said all he dared to say--and he perceived that he was not +believed. This had not happened to him for years. It had never happened. +It bewildered him as if he had suddenly discovered that he was no longer +himself. He had come to them and had said: “I mean well by you. I am +Tom Lingard--” and they did not believe! Before such scepticism he was +helpless, because he had never imagined it possible. He had said: “You +are in the way of my work. You are in the way of what I can not give up +for any one; but I will see you through all safe if you will only +trust me--me, Tom Lingard.” And they would not believe him! It was +intolerable. He imagined himself sweeping their disbelief out of his +way. And why not? He did not know them, he did not care for them, he +did not even need to lift his hand against them! All he had to do was to +shut his eyes now for a day or two, and afterward he could forget that +he had ever seen them. It would be easy. Let their disbelief vanish, +their folly disappear, their bodies perish. . . . It was that--or ruin! + + + +III + +Lingard's gaze, detaching itself from the silent sea, travelled slowly +over the silent figures clustering forward, over the faces of the seamen +attentive and surprised, over the faces never seen before yet suggesting +old days--his youth--other seas--the distant shores of early memories. +Mr. Travers gave a start also, and the hand which had been busy with +his left whisker went into the pocket of his jacket, as though he +had plucked out something worth keeping. He made a quick step toward +Lingard. + +“I don't see my way to utilize your services,” he said, with cold +finality. + +Lingard, grasping his beard, looked down at him thoughtfully for a short +time. + +“Perhaps it's just as well,” he said, very slowly, “because I did not +offer my services. I've offered to take you on board my brig for a +few days, as your only chance of safety. And you asked me what were +my motives. My motives! If you don't see them they are not for you to +know.” + +And these men who, two hours before had never seen each other, stood +for a moment close together, antagonistic, as if they had been life-long +enemies, one short, dapper and glaring upward, the other towering +heavily, and looking down in contempt and anger. + +Mr. d'Alcacer, without taking his eyes off them, bent low over the deck +chair. + +“Have you ever seen a man dashing himself at a stone wall?” he asked, +confidentially. + +“No,” said Mrs. Travers, gazing straight before her above the slow +flutter of the fan. “No, I did not know it was ever done; men burrow +under or slip round quietly while they look the other way.” + +“Ah! you define diplomacy,” murmured d'Alcacer. “A little of it here +would do no harm. But our picturesque visitor has none of it. I've a +great liking for him.” + +“Already!” breathed out Mrs. Travers, with a smile that touched her lips +with its bright wing and was flown almost before it could be seen. + +“There is liking at first sight,” affirmed d'Alcacer, “as well as love +at first sight--the coup de foudre--you know.” + +She looked up for a moment, and he went on, gravely: “I think it is the +truest, the most profound of sentiments. You do not love because of what +is in the other. You love because of something that is in you--something +alive--in yourself.” He struck his breast lightly with the tip of one +finger. “A capacity in you. And not everyone may have it--not everyone +deserves to be touched by fire from heaven.” + +“And die,” she said. + +He made a slight movement. + +“Who can tell? That is as it may be. But it is always a privilege, even +if one must live a little after being burnt.” + +Through the silence between them, Mr. Travers' voice came plainly, +saying with irritation: + +“I've told you already that I do not want you. I've sent a messenger to +the governor of the Straits. Don't be importunate.” + +Then Lingard, standing with his back to them, growled out something +which must have exasperated Mr. Travers, because his voice was pitched +higher: + +“You are playing a dangerous game, I warn you. Sir John, as it happens, +is a personal friend of mine. He will send a cruiser--” and Lingard +interrupted recklessly loud: + +“As long as she does not get here for the next ten days, I don't care. +Cruisers are scarce just now in the Straits; and to turn my back on you +is no hanging matter anyhow. I would risk that, and more! Do you hear? +And more!” + +He stamped his foot heavily, Mr. Travers stepped back. + +“You will gain nothing by trying to frighten me,” he said. “I don't know +who you are.” + +Every eye in the yacht was wide open. The men, crowded upon each +other, stared stupidly like a flock of sheep. Mr. Travers pulled out +a handkerchief and passed it over his forehead. The face of the +sailing-master who leaned against the main mast--as near as he dared +to approach the gentry--was shining and crimson between white whiskers, +like a glowing coal between two patches of snow. + +D'Alcacer whispered: + +“It is a quarrel, and the picturesque man is angry. He is hurt.” + +Mrs. Travers' fan rested on her knees, and she sat still as if waiting +to hear more. + +“Do you think I ought to make an effort for peace?” asked d'Alcacer. + +She did not answer, and after waiting a little, he insisted: + +“What is your opinion? Shall I try to mediate--as a neutral, as a +benevolent neutral? I like that man with the beard.” + +The interchange of angry phrases went on aloud, amidst general +consternation. + +“I would turn my back on you only I am thinking of these poor devils +here,” growled Lingard, furiously. “Did you ask them how they feel about +it?” + +“I ask no one,” spluttered Mr. Travers. “Everybody here depends on my +judgment.” + +“I am sorry for them then,” pronounced Lingard with sudden deliberation, +and leaning forward with his arms crossed on his breast. + +At this Mr. Travers positively jumped, and forgot himself so far as to +shout: + +“You are an impudent fellow. I have nothing more to say to you.” + +D'Alcacer, after muttering to himself, “This is getting serious,” made a +movement, and could not believe his ears when he heard Mrs. Travers say +rapidly with a kind of fervour: + +“Don't go, pray; don't stop them. Oh! This is truth--this is +anger--something real at last.” + +D'Alcacer leaned back at once against the rail. + +Then Mr. Travers, with one arm extended, repeated very loudly: + +“Nothing more to say. Leave my ship at once!” + +And directly the black dog, stretched at his wife's feet, muzzle on +paws and blinking yellow eyes, growled discontentedly at the noise. Mrs. +Travers laughed a faint, bright laugh, that seemed to escape, to glide, +to dart between her white teeth. D'Alcacer, concealing his amazement, +was looking down at her gravely: and after a slight gasp, she said with +little bursts of merriment between every few words: + +“No, but this is--such--such a fresh experience for me to hear--to see +something--genuine and human. Ah! ah! one would think they had waited +all their lives for this opportunity--ah! ah! ah! All their lives--for +this! ah! ah! ah!” + +These strange words struck d'Alcacer as perfectly just, as throwing an +unexpected light. But after a smile, he said, seriously: + +“This reality may go too far. A man who looks so picturesque is capable +of anything. Allow me--” And he left her side, moving toward Lingard, +loose-limbed and gaunt, yet having in his whole bearing, in his walk, in +every leisurely movement, an air of distinction and ceremony. + +Lingard spun round with aggressive mien to the light touch on his +shoulder, but as soon as he took his eyes off Mr. Travers, his anger +fell, seemed to sink without a sound at his feet like a rejected +garment. + +“Pardon me,” said d'Alcacer, composedly. The slight wave of his hand was +hardly more than an indication, the beginning of a conciliating gesture. +“Pardon me; but this is a matter requiring perfect confidence on both +sides. Don Martin, here, who is a person of importance. . . .” + +“I've spoken my mind plainly. I have said as much as I dare. On my word +I have,” declared Lingard with an air of good temper. + +“Ah!” said d'Alcacer, reflectively, “then your reserve is a matter of +pledged faith--of--of honour?” + +Lingard also appeared thoughtful for a moment. + +“You may put it that way. And I owe nothing to a man who couldn't see my +hand when I put it out to him as I came aboard.” + +“You have so much the advantage of us here,” replied d'Alcacer, “that +you may well be generous and forget that oversight; and then just a +little more confidence. . . .” + +“My dear d'Alcacer, you are absurd,” broke in Mr. Travers, in a calm +voice but with white lips. “I did not come out all this way to shake +hands promiscuously and receive confidences from the first adventurer +that comes along.” + +D'Alcacer stepped back with an almost imperceptible inclination of the +head at Lingard, who stood for a moment with twitching face. + +“I _am_ an adventurer,” he burst out, “and if I hadn't been an +adventurer, I would have had to starve or work at home for such people +as you. If I weren't an adventurer, you would be most likely lying dead +on this deck with your cut throat gaping at the sky.” + +Mr. Travers waved this speech away. But others also had heard. Carter +listened watchfully and something, some alarming notion seemed to dawn +all at once upon the thick little sailing-master, who rushed on his +short legs, and tugging at Carter's sleeve, stammered desperately: + +“What's he saying? Who's he? What's up? Are the natives unfriendly? My +book says--'Natives friendly all along this coast!' My book says--” + +Carter, who had glanced over the side, jerked his arm free. + +“You go down into the pantry, where you belong, Skipper, and read that +bit about the natives over again,” he said to his superior officer, with +savage contempt. “I'll be hanged if some of them ain't coming aboard now +to eat you--book and all. Get out of the way, and let the gentlemen have +the first chance of a row.” + +Then addressing Lingard, he drawled in his old way: + +“That crazy mate of yours has sent your boat back, with a couple of +visitors in her, too.” + +Before he apprehended plainly the meaning of these words, Lingard caught +sight of two heads rising above the rail, the head of Hassim and the +head of Immada. Then their bodies ascended into view as though these two +beings had gradually emerged from the Shallows. They stood for a moment +on the platform looking down on the deck as if about to step into the +unknown, then descended and walking aft entered the half-light under the +awning shading the luxurious surroundings, the complicated emotions of +the, to them, inconceivable existences. + +Lingard without waiting a moment cried: + +“What news, O Rajah?” + +Hassim's eyes made the round of the schooner's decks. He had left his +gun in the boat and advanced empty handed, with a tranquil assurance as +if bearing a welcome offering in the faint smile of his lips. Immada, +half hidden behind his shoulder, followed lightly, her elbows pressed +close to her side. The thick fringe of her eyelashes was dropped like +a veil; she looked youthful and brooding; she had an aspect of shy +resolution. + +They stopped within arm's length of the whites, and for some time nobody +said a word. Then Hassim gave Lingard a significant glance, and uttered +rapidly with a slight toss of the head that indicated in a manner the +whole of the yacht: + +“I see no guns!” + +“N--no!” said Lingard, looking suddenly confused. It had occurred to him +that for the first time in two years or more he had forgotten, utterly +forgotten, these people's existence. + +Immada stood slight and rigid with downcast eyes. Hassim, at his ease, +scrutinized the faces, as if searching for elusive points of similitude +or for subtle shades of difference. + +“What is this new intrusion?” asked Mr. Travers, angrily. + +“These are the fisher-folk, sir,” broke in the sailing-master, “we've +observed these three days past flitting about in a canoe; but they +never had the sense to answer our hail; and yet a bit of fish for +your breakfast--” He smiled obsequiously, and all at once, without +provocation, began to bellow: + +“Hey! Johnnie! Hab got fish? Fish! One peecee fish! Eh? Savee? Fish! +Fish--” He gave it up suddenly to say in a deferential tone--“Can't +make them savages understand anything, sir,” and withdrew as if after a +clever feat. + +Hassim looked at Lingard. + +“Why did the little white man make that outcry?” he asked, anxiously. + +“Their desire is to eat fish,” said Lingard in an enraged tone. + +Then before the air of extreme surprise which incontinently appeared on +the other's face, he could not restrain a short and hopeless laugh. + +“Eat fish,” repeated Hassim, staring. “O you white people! O you white +people! Eat fish! Good! But why make that noise? And why did you send +them here without guns?” After a significant glance down upon the slope +of the deck caused by the vessel being on the ground, he added with a +slight nod at Lingard--“And without knowledge?” + +“You should not have come here, O Hassim,” said Lingard, testily. “Here +no one understands. They take a rajah for a fisherman--” + +“Ya-wa! A great mistake, for, truly, the chief of ten fugitives without +a country is much less than the headman of a fishing village,” observed +Hassim, composedly. Immada sighed. “But you, Tuan, at least know the +truth,” he went on with quiet irony; then after a pause--“We came here +because you had forgotten to look toward us, who had waited, sleeping +little at night, and in the day watching with hot eyes the empty water +at the foot of the sky for you.” + +Immada murmured, without lifting her head: + +“You never looked for us. Never, never once.” + +“There was too much trouble in my eyes,” explained Lingard with that +patient gentleness of tone and face which, every time he spoke to the +young girl, seemed to disengage itself from his whole person, enveloping +his fierceness, softening his aspect, such as the dreamy mist that in +the early radiance of the morning weaves a veil of tender charm about a +rugged rock in mid-ocean. “I must look now to the right and to the +left as in a time of sudden danger,” he added after a moment and she +whispered an appalled “Why?” so low that its pain floated away in the +silence of attentive men, without response, unheard, ignored, like the +pain of an impalpable thought. + + + +IV + +D'Alcacer, standing back, surveyed them all with a profound and alert +attention. Lingard seemed unable to tear himself away from the yacht, +and remained, checked, as it were in the act of going, like a man who +has stopped to think out the last thing to say; and that stillness of a +body, forgotten by the labouring mind, reminded Carter of that moment +in the cabin, when alone he had seen this man thus wrestling with his +thought, motionless and locked in the grip of his conscience. + +Mr. Travers muttered audibly through his teeth: + +“How long is this performance going to last? I have desired you to go.” + +“Think of these poor devils,” whispered Lingard, with a quick glance at +the crew huddled up near by. + +“You are the kind of man I would be least disposed to trust--in any +case,” said Mr. Travers, incisively, very low, and with an inexplicable +but very apparent satisfaction. “You are only wasting your time here.” + +“You--You--” He stammered and stared. He chewed with growls some +insulting word and at last swallowed it with an effort. “My time pays +for your life,” he said. + +He became aware of a sudden stir, and saw that Mrs. Travers had risen +from her chair. + +She walked impulsively toward the group on the quarter-deck, making +straight for Immada. Hassim had stepped aside and his detached gaze of a +Malay gentleman passed by her as if she had been invisible. + +She was tall, supple, moving freely. Her complexion was so dazzling +in the shade that it seemed to throw out a halo round her head. Upon +a smooth and wide brow an abundance of pale fair hair, fine as silk, +undulating like the sea, heavy like a helmet, descended low without a +trace of gloss, without a gleam in its coils, as though it had never +been touched by a ray of light; and a throat white, smooth, palpitating +with life, a round neck modelled with strength and delicacy, supported +gloriously that radiant face and that pale mass of hair unkissed by +sunshine. + +She said with animation: + +“Why, it's a girl!” + +Mrs. Travers extorted from d'Alcacer a fresh tribute of curiosity. A +strong puff of wind fluttered the awnings and one of the screens blowing +out wide let in upon the quarter-deck the rippling glitter of the +Shallows, showing to d'Alcacer the luminous vastness of the sea, with +the line of the distant horizon, dark like the edge of the encompassing +night, drawn at the height of Mrs. Travers' shoulder. . . . Where was +it he had seen her last--a long time before, on the other side of the +world? There was also the glitter of splendour around her then, and an +impression of luminous vastness. The encompassing night, too, was there, +the night that waits for its time to move forward upon the glitter, the +splendour, the men, the women. + +He could not remember for the moment, but he became convinced that of +all the women he knew, she alone seemed to be made for action. Every one +of her movements had firmness, ease, the meaning of a vital fact, +the moral beauty of a fearless expression. Her supple figure was not +dishonoured by any faltering of outlines under the plain dress of dark +blue stuff moulding her form with bold simplicity. + +She had only very few steps to make, but before she had stopped, +confronting Immada, d'Alcacer remembered her suddenly as he had seen +her last, out West, far away, impossibly different, as if in another +universe, as if presented by the fantasy of a fevered memory. He saw +her in a luminous perspective of palatial drawing rooms, in the restless +eddy and flow of a human sea, at the foot of walls high as cliffs, under +lofty ceilings that like a tropical sky flung light and heat upon the +shallow glitter of uniforms, of stars, of diamonds, of eyes sparkling +in the weary or impassive faces of the throng at an official reception. +Outside he had found the unavoidable darkness with its aspect of patient +waiting, a cloudy sky holding back the dawn of a London morning. It was +difficult to believe. + +Lingard, who had been looking dangerously fierce, slapped his thigh and +showed signs of agitation. + +“By heavens, I had forgotten all about you!” he pronounced in dismay. + +Mrs. Travers fixed her eyes on Immada. Fairhaired and white she asserted +herself before the girl of olive face and raven locks with the maturity +of perfection, with the superiority of the flower over the leaf, of the +phrase that contains a thought over the cry that can only express an +emotion. Immense spaces and countless centuries stretched between +them: and she looked at her as when one looks into one's own heart +with absorbed curiosity, with still wonder, with an immense compassion. +Lingard murmured, warningly: + +“Don't touch her.” + +Mrs. Travers looked at him. + +“Do you think I could hurt her?” she asked, softly, and was so startled +to hear him mutter a gloomy “Perhaps,” that she hesitated before she +smiled. + +“Almost a child! And so pretty! What a delicate face,” she said, while +another deep sigh of the sea breeze lifted and let fall the screens, so +that the sound, the wind, and the glitter seemed to rush in together and +bear her words away into space. “I had no idea of anything so charmingly +gentle,” she went on in a voice that without effort glowed, caressed, +and had a magic power of delight to the soul. “So young! And she lives +here--does she? On the sea--or where? Lives--” Then faintly, as if she +had been in the act of speaking, removed instantly to a great distance, +she was heard again: “How does she live?” + +Lingard had hardly seen Edith Travers till then. He had seen no one +really but Mr. Travers. He looked and listened with something of the +stupor of a new sensation. + +Then he made a distinct effort to collect his thoughts and said with a +remnant of anger: + +“What have you got to do with her? She knows war. Do you know anything +about it? And hunger, too, and thirst, and unhappiness; things you have +only heard about. She has been as near death as I am to you--and what is +all that to any of you here?” + +“That child!” she said in slow wonder. + +Immada turned upon Mrs. Travers her eyes black as coal, sparkling and +soft like a tropical night; and the glances of the two women, their +dissimilar and inquiring glances met, seemed to touch, clasp, hold each +other with the grip of an intimate contact. They separated. + +“What are they come for? Why did you show them the way to this place?” + asked Immada, faintly. + +Lingard shook his head in denial. + +“Poor girl,” said Mrs. Travers. “Are they all so pretty?” + +“Who-all?” mumbled Lingard. “There isn't an other one like her if you +were to ransack the islands all round the compass.” + +“Edith!” ejaculated Mr. Travers in a remonstrating, acrimonious voice, +and everyone gave him a look of vague surprise. + +Then Mrs. Travers asked: + +“Who is she?” + +Lingard very red and grave declared curtly: + +“A princess.” + +Immediately he looked round with suspicion. No one smiled. D'Alcacer, +courteous and nonchalant, lounged up close to Mrs. Travers' elbow. + +“If she is a princess, then this man is a knight,” he murmured with +conviction. “A knight as I live! A descendant of the immortal hidalgo +errant upon the sea. It would be good for us to have him for a friend. +Seriously I think that you ought--” + +The two stepped aside and spoke low and hurriedly. + +“Yes, you ought--” + +“How can I?” she interrupted, catching the meaning like a ball. + +“By saying something.” + +“Is it really necessary?” she asked, doubtfully. + +“It would do no harm,” said d'Alcacer with sudden carelessness; “a +friend is always better than an enemy.” + +“Always?” she repeated, meaningly. “But what could I say?” + +“Some words,” he answered; “I should think any words in your voice--” + +“Mr. d'Alcacer!” + +“Or you could perhaps look at him once or twice as though he were not +exactly a robber,” he continued. + +“Mr. d'Alcacer, are you afraid?” + +“Extremely,” he said, stooping to pick up the fan at her feet. “That is +the reason I am so anxious to conciliate. And you must not forget that +one of your queens once stepped on the cloak of perhaps such a man.” + +Her eyes sparkled and she dropped them suddenly. + +“I am not a queen,” she said, coldly. + +“Unfortunately not,” he admitted; “but then the other was a woman with +no charm but her crown.” + +At that moment Lingard, to whom Hassim had been talking earnestly, +protested aloud: + +“I never saw these people before.” + +Immada caught hold of her brother's arm. Mr. Travers said harshly: + +“Oblige me by taking these natives away.” + +“Never before,” murmured Immada as if lost in ecstasy. D'Alcacer glanced +at Mrs. Travers and made a step forward. + +“Could not the difficulty, whatever it is, be arranged, Captain?” he +said with careful politeness. “Observe that we are not only men here--” + +“Let them die!” cried Immada, triumphantly. + +Though Lingard alone understood the meaning of these words, all on board +felt oppressed by the uneasy silence which followed her cry. + +“Ah! He is going. Now, Mrs. Travers,” whispered d'Alcacer. + +“I hope!” said Mrs. Travers, impulsively, and stopped as if alarmed at +the sound. + +Lingard stood still. + +“I hope,” she began again, “that this poor girl will know happier +days--” She hesitated. + +Lingard waited, attentive and serious. + +“Under your care,” she finished. “And I believe you meant to be friendly +to us.” + +“Thank you,” said Lingard with dignity. + +“You and d'Alcacer,” observed Mr. Travers, austerely, “are unnecessarily +detaining this--ah--person, and--ah--friends--ah!” + +“I had forgotten you--and now--what? One must--it is hard--hard--” went +on Lingard, disconnectedly, while he looked into Mrs. Travers' +violet eyes, and felt his mind overpowered and troubled as if by the +contemplation of vast distances. “I--you don't know--I--you--cannot +. . . Ha! It's all that man's doing,” he burst out. + +For a time, as if beside himself, he glared at Mrs. Travers, then flung +up one arm and strode off toward the gangway, where Hassim and Immada +waited for him, interested and patient. With a single word “Come,” he +preceded them down into the boat. Not a sound was heard on the yacht's +deck, while these three disappeared one after another below the rail as +if they had descended into the sea. + + + +V + +The afternoon dragged itself out in silence. Mrs. Travers sat pensive +and idle with her fan on her knees. D'Alcacer, who thought the incident +should have been treated in a conciliatory spirit, attempted to +communicate his view to his host, but that gentleman, purposely +misunderstanding his motive, overwhelmed him with so many apologies +and expressions of regret at the irksome and perhaps inconvenient delay +“which you suffer from through your good-natured acceptance of our +invitation” that the other was obliged to refrain from pursuing the +subject further. + +“Even my regard for you, my dear d'Alcacer, could not induce me to +submit to such a bare-faced attempt at extortion,” affirmed Mr. Travers +with uncompromising virtue. “The man wanted to force his services +upon me, and then put in a heavy claim for salvage. That is the whole +secret--you may depend on it. I detected him at once, of course.” The +eye-glass glittered perspicuously. “He underrated my intelligence; and +what a violent scoundrel! The existence of such a man in the time we +live in is a scandal.” + +D'Alcacer retired, and, full of vague forebodings, tried in vain for +hours to interest himself in a book. Mr. Travers walked up and down +restlessly, trying to persuade himself that his indignation was based +on purely moral grounds. The glaring day, like a mass of white-hot iron +withdrawn from the fire, was losing gradually its heat and its glare +in a richer deepening of tone. At the usual time two seamen, walking +noiselessly aft in their yachting shoes, rolled up in silence the +quarter-deck screens; and the coast, the shallows, the dark islets and +the snowy sandbanks uncovered thus day after day were seen once more +in their aspect of dumb watchfulness. The brig, swung end on in the +foreground, her squared yards crossing heavily the soaring symmetry of +the rigging, resembled a creature instinct with life, with the power of +springing into action lurking in the light grace of its repose. + +A pair of stewards in white jackets with brass buttons appeared on deck +and began to flit about without a sound, laying the table for dinner on +the flat top of the cabin skylight. The sun, drifting away toward +other lands, toward other seas, toward other men; the sun, all red in a +cloudless sky raked the yacht with a parting salvo of crimson rays that +shattered themselves into sparks of fire upon the crystal and silver +of the dinner-service, put a short flame into the blades of knives, and +spread a rosy tint over the white of plates. A trail of purple, like a +smear of blood on a blue shield, lay over the sea. + +On sitting down Mr. Travers alluded in a vexed tone to the necessity of +living on preserves, all the stock of fresh provisions for the passage +to Batavia having been already consumed. It was distinctly unpleasant. + +“I don't travel for my pleasure, however,” he added; “and the belief +that the sacrifice of my time and comfort will be productive of some +good to the world at large would make up for any amount of privations.” + +Mrs. Travers and d'Alcacer seemed unable to shake off a strong aversion +to talk, and the conversation, like an expiring breeze, kept on dying +out repeatedly after each languid gust. The large silence of the +horizon, the profound repose of all things visible, enveloping the +bodies and penetrating the souls with their quieting influence, stilled +thought as well as voice. For a long time no one spoke. Behind the +taciturnity of the masters the servants hovered without noise. + +Suddenly, Mr. Travers, as if concluding a train of thought, muttered +aloud: + +“I own with regret I did in a measure lose my temper; but then you will +admit that the existence of such a man is a disgrace to civilization.” + +This remark was not taken up and he returned for a time to the nursing +of his indignation, at the bottom of which, like a monster in a fog, +crept a bizarre feeling of rancour. He waved away an offered dish. + +“This coast,” he began again, “has been placed under the sole protection +of Holland by the Treaty of 1820. The Treaty of 1820 creates special +rights and obligations. . . .” + +Both his hearers felt vividly the urgent necessity to hear no more. +D'Alcacer, uncomfortable on a campstool, sat stiff and stared at the +glass stopper of a carafe. Mrs. Travers turned a little sideways and +leaning on her elbow rested her head on the palm of her hand like one +thinking about matters of profound import. Mr. Travers talked; he talked +inflexibly, in a harsh blank voice, as if reading a proclamation. +The other two, as if in a state of incomplete trance, had their ears +assailed by fragments of official verbiage. + +“An international understanding--the duty to civilize--failed to carry +out--compact--Canning--” D'Alcacer became attentive for a moment. +“--not that this attempt, almost amusing in its impudence, influences my +opinion. I won't admit the possibility of any violence being offered to +people of our position. It is the social aspect of such an incident I am +desirous of criticising.” + +Here d'Alcacer lost himself again in the recollection of Mrs. Travers +and Immada looking at each other--the beginning and the end, the +flower and the leaf, the phrase and the cry. Mr. Travers' voice went +on dogmatic and obstinate for a long time. The end came with a certain +vehemence. + +“And if the inferior race must perish, it is a gain, a step toward the +perfecting of society which is the aim of progress.” + +He ceased. The sparks of sunset in crystal and silver had gone out, +and around the yacht the expanse of coast and Shallows seemed to await, +unmoved, the coming of utter darkness. The dinner was over a long time +ago and the patient stewards had been waiting, stoical in the downpour +of words like sentries under a shower. + +Mrs. Travers rose nervously and going aft began to gaze at the coast. +Behind her the sun, sunk already, seemed to force through the mass of +waters the glow of an unextinguishable fire, and below her feet, on each +side of the yacht, the lustrous sea, as if reflecting the colour of her +eyes, was tinged a sombre violet hue. + +D'Alcacer came up to her with quiet footsteps and for some time they +leaned side by side over the rail in silence. Then he said--“How quiet +it is!” and she seemed to perceive that the quietness of that evening +was more profound and more significant than ever before. Almost without +knowing it she murmured--“It's like a dream.” Another long silence +ensued; the tranquillity of the universe had such an August ampleness +that the sounds remained on the lips as if checked by the fear of +profanation. The sky was limpid like a diamond, and under the last +gleams of sunset the night was spreading its veil over the earth. There +was something precious and soothing in the beautifully serene end of +that expiring day, of the day vibrating, glittering and ardent, and +dying now in infinite peace, without a stir, without a tremor, without a +sigh--in the certitude of resurrection. + +Then all at once the shadow deepened swiftly, the stars came out in a +crowd, scattering a rain of pale sparks upon the blackness of the water, +while the coast stretched low down, a dark belt without a gleam. Above +it the top-hamper of the brig loomed indistinct and high. + +Mrs. Travers spoke first. + +“How unnaturally quiet! It is like a desert of land and water without a +living soul.” + +“One man at least dwells in it,” said d'Alcacer, lightly, “and if he is +to be believed there are other men, full of evil intentions.” + +“Do you think it is true?” Mrs. Travers asked. + +Before answering d'Alcacer tried to see the expression of her face but +the obscurity was too profound already. + +“How can one see a dark truth on such a dark night?” he said, evasively. +“But it is easy to believe in evil, here or anywhere else.” + +She seemed to be lost in thought for a while. + +“And that man himself?” she asked. + +After some time d'Alcacer began to speak slowly. “Rough, uncommon, +decidedly uncommon of his kind. Not at all what Don Martin thinks him to +be. For the rest--mysterious to me. He is _your_ countryman after all--” + +She seemed quite surprised by that view. + +“Yes,” she said, slowly. “But you know, I can not--what shall I +say?--imagine him at all. He has nothing in common with the mankind I +know. There is nothing to begin upon. How does such a man live? What are +his thoughts? His actions? His affections? His--” + +“His conventions,” suggested d'Alcacer. “That would include everything.” + +Mr. Travers appeared suddenly behind them with a glowing cigar in +his teeth. He took it between his fingers to declare with persistent +acrimony that no amount of “scoundrelly intimidation” would prevent him +from having his usual walk. There was about three hundred yards to the +southward of the yacht a sandbank nearly a mile long, gleaming a silvery +white in the darkness, plumetted in the centre with a thicket of dry +bushes that rustled very loud in the slightest stir of the heavy night +air. The day after the stranding they had landed on it “to stretch their +legs a bit,” as the sailing-master defined it, and every evening since, +as if exercising a privilege or performing a duty, the three paced there +for an hour backward and forward lost in dusky immensity, threading at +the edge of water the belt of damp sand, smooth, level, elastic to the +touch like living flesh and sweating a little under the pressure of +their feet. + +This time d'Alcacer alone followed Mr. Travers. Mrs. Travers heard them +get into the yacht's smallest boat, and the night-watchman, tugging at +a pair of sculls, pulled them off to the nearest point. Then the man +returned. He came up the ladder and she heard him say to someone on +deck: + +“Orders to go back in an hour.” + +His footsteps died out forward, and a somnolent, unbreathing repose took +possession of the stranded yacht. + + + +VI + +After a time this absolute silence which she almost could feel pressing +upon her on all sides induced in Mrs. Travers a state of hallucination. +She saw herself standing alone, at the end of time, on the brink of +days. All was unmoving as if the dawn would never come, the stars would +never fade, the sun would never rise any more; all was mute, still, +dead--as if the shadow of the outer darkness, the shadow of the +uninterrupted, of the everlasting night that fills the universe, the +shadow of the night so profound and so vast that the blazing suns lost +in it are only like sparks, like pin-points of fire, the restless shadow +that like a suspicion of an evil truth darkens everything upon the earth +on its passage, had enveloped her, had stood arrested as if to remain +with her forever. + +And there was such a finality in that illusion, such an accord with the +trend of her thought that when she murmured into the darkness a faint +“so be it” she seemed to have spoken one of those sentences that resume +and close a life. + +As a young girl, often reproved for her romantic ideas, she had +dreams where the sincerity of a great passion appeared like the ideal +fulfilment and the only truth of life. Entering the world she discovered +that ideal to be unattainable because the world is too prudent to +be sincere. Then she hoped that she could find the truth of life an +ambition which she understood as a lifelong devotion to some unselfish +ideal. Mr. Travers' name was on men's lips; he seemed capable of +enthusiasm and of devotion; he impressed her imagination by his +impenetrability. She married him, found him enthusiastically devoted to +the nursing of his own career, and had nothing to hope for now. + +That her husband should be bewildered by the curious misunderstanding +which had taken place and also permanently grieved by her disloyalty +to his respectable ideals was only natural. He was, however, perfectly +satisfied with her beauty, her brilliance, and her useful connections. +She was admired, she was envied; she was surrounded by splendour and +adulation; the days went on rapid, brilliant, uniform, without a glimpse +of sincerity or true passion, without a single true emotion--not even +that of a great sorrow. And swiftly and stealthily they had led her on +and on, to this evening, to this coast, to this sea, to this moment of +time and to this spot on the earth's surface where she felt unerringly +that the moving shadow of the unbroken night had stood still to remain +with her forever. + +“So be it!” she murmured, resigned and defiant, at the mute and smooth +obscurity that hung before her eyes in a black curtain without a +fold; and as if in answer to that whisper a lantern was run up to the +foreyard-arm of the brig. She saw it ascend swinging for a. short space, +and suddenly remain motionless in the air, piercing the dense night +between the two vessels by its glance of flame that strong and steady +seemed, from afar, to fall upon her alone. + +Her thoughts, like a fascinated moth, went fluttering toward that +light--that man--that girl, who had known war, danger, seen death near, +had obtained evidently the devotion of that man. The occurrences of the +afternoon had been strange in themselves, but what struck her artistic +sense was the vigour of their presentation. They outlined themselves +before her memory with the clear simplicity of some immortal legend. +They were mysterious, but she felt certain they were absolutely true. +They embodied artless and masterful feelings; such, no doubt, as had +swayed mankind in the simplicity of its youth. She envied, for a moment, +the lot of that humble and obscure sister. Nothing stood between that +girl and the truth of her sensations. She could be sincerely courageous, +and tender and passionate and--well--ferocious. Why not ferocious? She +could know the truth of terror--and of affection, absolutely, without +artificial trammels, without the pain of restraint. + +Thinking of what such life could be Mrs. Travers felt invaded by that +inexplicable exaltation which the consciousness of their physical +capacities so often gives to intellectual beings. She glowed with a +sudden persuasion that she also could be equal to such an existence; and +her heart was dilated with a momentary longing to know the naked truth +of things; the naked truth of life and passion buried under the growth +of centuries. + +She glowed and, suddenly, she quivered with the shock of coming to +herself as if she had fallen down from a star. There was a sound of +rippling water and a shapeless mass glided out of the dark void she +confronted. A voice below her feet said: + +“I made out your shape--on the sky.” A cry of surprise expired on her +lips and she could only peer downward. Lingard, alone in the brig's +dinghy, with another stroke sent the light boat nearly under the yacht's +counter, laid his sculls in, and rose from the thwart. His head and +shoulders loomed up alongside and he had the appearance of standing upon +the sea. Involuntarily Mrs. Travers made a movement of retreat. + +“Stop,” he said, anxiously, “don't speak loud. No one must know. Where +do your people think themselves, I wonder? In a dock at home? And you--” + +“My husband is not on board,” she interrupted, hurriedly. + +“I know.” + +She bent a little more over the rail. + +“Then you are having us watched. Why?” + +“Somebody must watch. Your people keep such a good look-out--don't they? +Yes. Ever since dark one of my boats has been dodging astern here, in +the deep water. I swore to myself I would never see one of you, never +speak to one of you here, that I would be dumb, blind, deaf. And--here I +am!” + +Mrs. Travers' alarm and mistrust were replaced by an immense curiosity, +burning, yet quiet, too, as if before the inevitable work of destiny. +She looked downward at Lingard. His head was bared, and, with one hand +upon the ship's side, he seemed to be thinking deeply. + +“Because you had something more to tell us,” Mrs. Travers suggested, +gently. + +“Yes,” he said in a low tone and without moving in the least. + +“Will you come on board and wait?” she asked. + +“Who? I!” He lifted his head so quickly as to startle her. “I have +nothing to say to him; and I'll never put my foot on board this craft. +I've been told to go. That's enough.” + +“He is accustomed to be addressed deferentially,” she said after a +pause, “and you--” + +“Who is he?” asked Lingard, simply. + +These three words seemed to her to scatter her past in the air--like +smoke. They robbed all the multitude of mankind of every vestige of +importance. She was amazed to find that on this night, in this place, +there could be no adequate answer to the searching naiveness of that +question. + +“I didn't ask for much,” Lingard began again. “Did I? Only that you all +should come on board my brig for five days. That's all. . . . Do I +look like a liar? There are things I could not tell him. I couldn't +explain--I couldn't--not to him--to no man--to no man in the world--” + +His voice dropped. + +“Not to myself,” he ended as if in a dream. + +“We have remained unmolested so long here,” began Mrs. Travers a little +unsteadily, “that it makes it very difficult to believe in danger, now. +We saw no one all these days except those two people who came for you. +If you may not explain--” + +“Of course, you can't be expected to see through a wall,” broke in +Lingard. “This coast's like a wall, but I know what's on the other side. +. . . A yacht here, of all things that float! When I set eyes on her I +could fancy she hadn't been more than an hour from home. Nothing but the +look of her spars made me think of old times. And then the faces of the +chaps on board. I seemed to know them all. It was like home coming to me +when I wasn't thinking of it. And I hated the sight of you all.” + +“If we are exposed to any peril,” she said after a pause during which +she tried to penetrate the secret of passion hidden behind that man's +words, “it need not affect you. Our other boat is gone to the Straits +and effective help is sure to come very soon.” + +“Affect me! Is that precious watchman of yours coming aft? I don't want +anybody to know I came here again begging, even of you. Is he coming +aft? . . . Listen! I've stopped your other boat.” + +His head and shoulders disappeared as though he had dived into a denser +layer of obscurity floating on the water. The watchman, who had the +intention to stretch himself in one of the deck chairs, catching sight +of the owner's wife, walked straight to the lamp that hung under the +ridge pole of the awning, and after fumbling with it for a time went +away forward with an indolent gait. + +“You dared!” Mrs. Travers whispered down in an intense tone; and +directly, Lingard's head emerged again below her with an upturned face. + +“It was dare--or give up. The help from the Straits would have been too +late anyhow if I hadn't the power to keep you safe; and if I had the +power I could see you through it--alone. I expected to find a reasonable +man to talk to. I ought to have known better. You come from too far to +understand these things. Well, I dared; I've sent after your other boat +a fellow who, with me at his back, would try to stop the governor of +the Straits himself. He will do it. Perhaps it's done already. You +have nothing to hope for. But I am here. You said you believed I meant +well--” + +“Yes,” she murmured. + +“That's why I thought I would tell you everything. I had to begin with +this business about the boat. And what do you think of me now? I've cut +you off from the rest of the earth. You people would disappear like a +stone in the water. You left one foreign port for another. Who's there +to trouble about what became of you? Who would know? Who could guess? It +would be months before they began to stir.” + +“I understand,” she said, steadily, “we are helpless.” + +“And alone,” he added. + +After a pause she said in a deliberate, restrained voice: + +“What does this mean? Plunder, captivity?” + +“It would have meant death if I hadn't been here,” he answered. + +“But you have the power to--” + +“Why, do you think, you are alive yet?” he cried. “Jorgenson has been +arguing with them on shore,” he went on, more calmly, with a swing of +his arm toward where the night seemed darkest. “Do you think he would +have kept them back if they hadn't expected me every day? His words +would have been nothing without my fist.” + +She heard a dull blow struck on the side of the yacht and concealed in +the same darkness that wrapped the unconcern of the earth and sea, the +fury and the pain of hearts; she smiled above his head, fascinated by +the simplicity of images and expressions. + +Lingard made a brusque movement, the lively little boat being unsteady +under his feet, and she spoke slowly, absently, as if her thought had +been lost in the vagueness of her sensations. + +“And this--this--Jorgenson, you said? Who is he?” + +“A man,” he answered, “a man like myself.” + +“Like yourself?” + +“Just like myself,” he said with strange reluctance, as if admitting a +painful truth. “More sense, perhaps, but less luck. Though, since your +yacht has turned up here, I begin to think that my luck is nothing much +to boast of either.” + +“Is our presence here so fatal?” + +“It may be death to some. It may be worse than death to me. And it rests +with you in a way. Think of that! I can never find such another chance +again. But that's nothing! A man who has saved my life once and that I +passed my word to would think I had thrown him over. But that's nothing! +Listen! As true as I stand here in my boat talking to you, I believe the +girl would die of grief.” + +“You love her,” she said, softly. + +“Like my own daughter,” he cried, low. + +Mrs. Travers said, “Oh!” faintly, and for a moment there was a silence, +then he began again: + +“Look here. When I was a boy in a trawler, and looked at you yacht +people, in the Channel ports, you were as strange to me as the Malays +here are strange to you. I left home sixteen years ago and fought my way +all round the earth. I had the time to forget where I began. What are +you to me against these two? If I was to die here on the spot would you +care? No one would care at home. No one in the whole world--but these +two.” + +“What can I do?” she asked, and waited, leaning over. + +He seemed to reflect, then lifting his head, spoke gently: + +“Do you understand the danger you are in? Are you afraid?” + +“I understand the expression you used, of course. Understand the +danger?” she went on. “No--decidedly no. And--honestly--I am not +afraid.” + +“Aren't you?” he said in a disappointed voice. “Perhaps you don't +believe me? I believed you, though, when you said you were sure I meant +well. I trusted you enough to come here asking for your help--telling +you what no one knows.” + +“You mistake me,” she said with impulsive earnestness. “This is so +extraordinarily unusual--sudden--outside my experience.” + +“Aye!” he murmured, “what would you know of danger and trouble? You! But +perhaps by thinking it over--” + +“You want me to think myself into a fright!” Mrs. Travers laughed +lightly, and in the gloom of his thought this flash of joyous sound +was incongruous and almost terrible. Next moment the night appeared +brilliant as day, warm as sunshine; but when she ceased the returning +darkness gave him pain as if it had struck heavily against his breast. +“I don't think I could do that,” she finished in a serious tone. + +“Couldn't you?” He hesitated, perplexed. “Things are bad enough to make +it no shame. I tell you,” he said, rapidly, “and I am not a timid man, I +may not be able to do much if you people don't help me.” + +“You want me to pretend I am alarmed?” she asked, quickly. + +“Aye, to pretend--as well you may. It's a lot to ask of you--who perhaps +never had to make-believe a thing in your life--isn't it?” + +“It is,” she said after a time. + +The unexpected bitterness of her tone struck Lingard with dismay. + +“Don't be offended,” he entreated. “I've got to plan a way out of this +mess. It's no play either. Could you pretend?” + +“Perhaps, if I tried very hard. But to what end?” + +“You must all shift aboard the brig,” he began, speaking quickly, “and +then we may get over this trouble without coming to blows. Now, if you +were to say that you wish it; that you feel unsafe in the yacht--don't +you see?” + +“I see,” she pronounced, thoughtfully. + +“The brig is small but the cuddy is fit for a lady,” went on Lingard +with animation. + +“Has it not already sheltered a princess?” she commented, coolly. + +“And I shall not intrude.” + +“This is an inducement.” + +“Nobody will dare to intrude. You needn't even see me.” + +“This is almost decisive, only--” + +“I know my place.” + +“Only, I might not have the influence,” she finished. + +“That I can not believe,” he said, roughly. “The long and the short of +it is you don't trust me because you think that only people of your own +condition speak the truth always.” + +“Evidently,” she murmured. + +“You say to yourself--here's a fellow deep in with pirates, thieves, +niggers--” + +“To be sure--” + +“A man I never saw the like before,” went on Lingard, headlong, +“a--ruffian.” + +He checked himself, full of confusion. After a time he heard her saying, +calmly: + +“You are like other men in this, that you get angry when you can not +have your way at once.” + +“I angry!” he exclaimed in deadened voice. “You do not understand. I am +thinking of you also--it is hard on me--” + +“I mistrust not you, but my own power. You have produced an unfortunate +impression on Mr. Travers.” + +“Unfortunate impression! He treated me as if I had been a long-shore +loafer. Never mind that. He is your husband. Fear in those you care for +is hard to bear for any man. And so, he--” + +“What Machiavellism!” + +“Eh, what did you say?” + +“I only wondered where you had observed that. On the sea?” + +“Observed what?” he said, absently. Then pursuing his idea--“One word +from you ought to be enough.” + +“You think so?” + +“I am sure of it. Why, even I, myself--” + +“Of course,” she interrupted. “But don't you think that after parting +with you on such--such--inimical terms, there would be a difficulty in +resuming relations?” + +“A man like me would do anything for money--don't you see?” + +After a pause she asked: + +“And would you care for that argument to be used?” + +“As long as you know better!” + +His voice vibrated--she drew back disturbed, as if unexpectedly he had +touched her. + +“What can there be at stake?” she began, wonderingly. + +“A kingdom,” said Lingard. + +Mrs. Travers leaned far over the rail, staring, and their faces, one +above the other, came very close together. + +“Not for yourself?” she whispered. + +He felt the touch of her breath on his forehead and remained still for +a moment, perfectly still as if he did not intend to move or speak any +more. + +“Those things,” he began, suddenly, “come in your way, when you don't +think, and they get all round you before you know what you mean to +do. When I went into that bay in New Guinea I never guessed where that +course would take me to. I could tell you a story. You would understand! +You! You!” + +He stammered, hesitated, and suddenly spoke, liberating the visions +of two years into the night where Mrs. Travers could follow them as if +outlined in words of fire. + + + +VII + +His tale was as startling as the discovery of a new world. She was being +taken along the boundary of an exciting existence, and she looked into +it through the guileless enthusiasm of the narrator. The heroic quality +of the feelings concealed what was disproportionate and absurd in +that gratitude, in that friendship, in that inexplicable devotion. The +headlong fierceness of purpose invested his obscure design of conquest +with the proportions of a great enterprise. It was clear that no vision +of a subjugated world could have been more inspiring to the most famous +adventurer of history. + +From time to time he interrupted himself to ask, confidently, as if +he had been speaking to an old friend, “What would you have done?” and +hurried on without pausing for approval. + +It struck her that there was a great passion in all this, the beauty of +an implanted faculty of affection that had found itself, its immediate +need of an object and the way of expansion; a tenderness expressed +violently; a tenderness that could only be satisfied by backing human +beings against their own destiny. Perhaps her hatred of convention, +trammelling the frankness of her own impulses, had rendered her more +alert to perceive what is intrinsically great and profound within the +forms of human folly, so simple and so infinitely varied according to +the region of the earth and to the moment of time. + +What of it that the narrator was only a roving seaman; the kingdom of +the jungle, the men of the forest, the lives obscure! That simple soul +was possessed by the greatness of the idea; there was nothing sordid in +its flaming impulses. When she once understood that, the story appealed +to the audacity of her thoughts, and she became so charmed with what she +heard that she forgot where she was. She forgot that she was personally +close to that tale which she saw detached, far away from her, truth or +fiction, presented in picturesque speech, real only by the response of +her emotion. + +Lingard paused. In the cessation of the impassioned murmur she began to +reflect. And at first it was only an oppressive notion of there being +some significance that really mattered in this man's story. That +mattered to her. For the first time the shadow of danger and death +crossed her mind. Was that the significance? Suddenly, in a flash of +acute discernment, she saw herself involved helplessly in that story, as +one is involved in a natural cataclysm. + +He was speaking again. He had not been silent more than a minute. It +seemed to Mrs. Travers that years had elapsed, so different now was the +effect of his words. Her mind was agitated as if his coming to speak and +confide in her had been a tremendous occurrence. It was a fact of her +own existence; it was part of the story also. This was the disturbing +thought. She heard him pronounce several names: Belarab, Daman, Tengga, +Ningrat. These belonged now to her life and she was appalled to find she +was unable to connect these names with any human appearance. They stood +out alone, as if written on the night; they took on a symbolic shape; +they imposed themselves upon her senses. She whispered as if pondering: +“Belarab, Daman, Ningrat,” and these barbarous sounds seemed to possess +an exceptional energy, a fatal aspect, the savour of madness. + +“Not one of them but has a heavy score to settle with the whites. What's +that to me! I had somehow to get men who would fight. I risked my life +to get that lot. I made them promises which I shall keep--or--! Can you +see now why I dared to stop your boat? I am in so deep that I care +for no Sir John in the world. When I look at the work ahead I care for +nothing. I gave you one chance--one good chance. That I had to do. No! I +suppose I didn't look enough of a gentleman. Yes! Yes! That's it. Yet +I know what a gentleman is. I lived with them for years. I chummed with +them--yes--on gold-fields and in other places where a man has got +to show the stuff that's in him. Some of them write from home to me +here--such as you see me, because I--never mind! And I know what a +gentleman would do. Come! Wouldn't he treat a stranger fairly? Wouldn't +he remember that no man is a liar till you prove him so? Wouldn't he +keep his word wherever given? Well, I am going to do that. Not a hair of +your head shall be touched as long as I live!” + +She had regained much of her composure but at these words she felt that +staggering sense of utter insecurity which is given one by the first +tremor of an earthquake. It was followed by an expectant stillness of +sensations. She remained silent. He thought she did not believe him. + +“Come! What on earth do you think brought me here--to--to--talk like +this to you? There was Hassim--Rajah Tulla, I should say--who was asking +me this afternoon: 'What will you do now with these, your people?' I +believe he thinks yet I fetched you here for some reason. You can't tell +what crooked notion they will get into their thick heads. It's enough to +make one swear.” He swore. “My people! Are you? How much? Say--how much? +You're no more mine than I am yours. Would any of you fine folks at home +face black ruin to save a fishing smack's crew from getting drowned?” + +Notwithstanding that sense of insecurity which lingered faintly in her +mind she had no image of death before her. She felt intensely alive. +She felt alive in a flush of strength, with an impression of novelty as +though life had been the gift of this very moment. The danger hidden in +the night gave no sign to awaken her terror, but the workings of a +human soul, simple and violent, were laid bare before her and had the +disturbing charm of an unheard-of experience. She was listening to a man +who concealed nothing. She said, interrogatively: + +“And yet you have come?” + +“Yes,” he answered, “to you--and for you only.” + +The flood tide running strong over the banks made a placid trickling +sound about the yacht's rudder. + +“I would not be saved alone.” + +“Then you must bring them over yourself,” he said in a sombre tone. +“There's the brig. You have me--my men--my guns. You know what to do. + +“I will try,” she said. + +“Very well. I am sorry for the poor devils forward there if you fail. +But of course you won't. Watch that light on the brig. I had it hoisted +on purpose. The trouble may be nearer than we think. Two of my boats +are gone scouting and if the news they bring me is bad the light will +be lowered. Think what that means. And I've told you what I have told +nobody. Think of my feelings also. I told you because I--because I had +to.” + +He gave a shove against the yacht's side and glided away from under her +eyes. A rippling sound died out. + +She walked away from the rail. The lamp and the skylights shone +faintly along the dark stretch of the decks. This evening was like the +last--like all the evenings before. + +“Is all this I have heard possible?” she asked herself. “No--but it is +true.” + +She sat down in a deck chair to think and found she could only remember. +She jumped up. She was sure somebody was hailing the yacht faintly. Was +that man hailing? She listened, and hearing nothing was annoyed with +herself for being haunted by a voice. + +“He said he could trust me. Now, what is this danger? What is danger?” + she meditated. + +Footsteps were coming from forward. The figure of the watchman flitted +vaguely over the gangway. He was whistling softly and vanished. Hollow +sounds in the boat were succeeded by a splash of oars. The night +swallowed these slight noises. Mrs. Travers sat down again and found +herself much calmer. + +She had the faculty of being able to think her own thoughts--and the +courage. She could take no action of any kind till her husband's return. +Lingard's warnings were not what had impressed her most. This man had +presented his innermost self unclothed by any subterfuge. There were +in plain sight his desires, his perplexities, affections, doubts, his +violence, his folly; and the existence they made up was lawless but not +vile. She had too much elevation of mind to look upon him from any other +but a strictly human standpoint. If he trusted her (how strange; +why should he? Was he wrong?) she accepted the trust with scrupulous +fairness. And when it dawned upon her that of all the men in the world +this unquestionably was the one she knew best, she had a moment of +wonder followed by an impression of profound sadness. It seemed an +unfortunate matter that concerned her alone. + +Her thought was suspended while she listened attentively for the return +of the yacht's boat. She was dismayed at the task before her. Not a +sound broke the stillness and she felt as if she were lost in empty +space. Then suddenly someone amidships yawned immensely and said: “Oh, +dear! Oh, dear!” A voice asked: “Ain't they back yet?” A negative grunt +answered. + +Mrs. Travers found that Lingard was touching, because he could be +understood. How simple was life, she reflected. She was frank with +herself. She considered him apart from social organization. She +discovered he had no place in it. How delightful! Here was a human +being and the naked truth of things was not so very far from her +notwithstanding the growth of centuries. Then it occurred to her that +this man by his action stripped her at once of her position, of her +wealth, of her rank, of her past. “I am helpless. What remains?” she +asked herself. Nothing! Anybody there might have suggested: “Your +presence.” She was too artificial yet to think of her beauty; and yet +the power of personality is part of the naked truth of things. + +She looked over her shoulder, and saw the light at the brig's +foreyard-arm burning with a strong, calm flame in the dust of starlight +suspended above the coast. She heard the heavy bump as of a boat run +headlong against the ladder. They were back! She rose in sudden and +extreme agitation. What should she say? How much? How to begin? Why say +anything? It would be absurd, like talking seriously about a dream. +She would not dare! In a moment she was driven into a state of mind +bordering on distraction. She heard somebody run up the gangway steps. +With the idea of gaining time she walked rapidly aft to the taffrail. +The light of the brig faced her without a flicker, enormous amongst the +suns scattered in the immensity of the night. + +She fixed her eyes on it. She thought: “I shan't tell him anything. +Impossible. No! I shall tell everything.” She expected every moment to +hear her husband's voice and the suspense was intolerable because she +felt that then she must decide. Somebody on deck was babbling excitedly. +She devoutly hoped d'Alcacer would speak first and thus put off the +fatal moment. A voice said roughly: “What's that?” And in the midst of +her distress she recognized Carter's voice, having noticed that young +man who was of a different stamp from the rest of the crew. She came to +the conclusion that the matter could be related jocularly, or--why not +pretend fear? At that moment the brig's yard-arm light she was looking +at trembled distinctly, and she was dumfounded as if she had seen a +commotion in the firmament. With her lips open for a cry she saw it fall +straight down several feet, flicker, and go out. All perplexity passed +from her mind. This first fact of the danger gave her a thrill of quite +a new emotion. Something had to be done at once. For some remote reason +she felt ashamed of her hesitations. + +She moved swiftly forward and under the lamp came face to face with +Carter who was coming aft. Both stopped, staring, the light fell on +their faces, and both were struck by each other's expression. The four +eyes shone wide. + +“You have seen?” she asked, beginning to tremble. + +“How do you know?” he said, at the same time, evidently surprised. + +Suddenly she saw that everybody was on deck. + +“The light is down,” she stammered. + +“The gentlemen are lost,” said Carter. Then he perceived she did not +seem to understand. “Kidnapped off the sandbank,” he continued, looking +at her fixedly to see how she would take it. She seemed calm. “Kidnapped +like a pair of lambs! Not a squeak,” he burst out with indignation. “But +the sandbank is long and they might have been at the other end. You were +on deck, ma'am?” he asked. + +“Yes,” she murmured. “In the chair here.” + +“We were all down below. I had to rest a little. When I came up the +watchman was asleep. He swears he wasn't, but I know better. Nobody +heard any noise, unless you did. But perhaps you were asleep?” he asked, +deferentially. + +“Yes--no--I must have been,” she said, faintly. + + + +VIII + +Lingard's soul was exalted by his talk with Mrs. Travers, by the strain +of incertitude and by extreme fatigue. On returning on board he asked +after Hassim and was told that the Rajah and his sister had gone off in +their canoe promising to return before midnight. The boats sent to scout +between the islets north and south of the anchorage had not come back +yet. He went into his cabin and throwing himself on the couch closed his +eyes thinking: “I must sleep or I shall go mad.” + +At times he felt an unshaken confidence in Mrs. Travers--then he +remembered her face. Next moment the face would fade, he would make an +effort to hold on to the image, fail--and then become convinced without +the shadow of a doubt that he was utterly lost, unless he let all these +people be wiped off the face of the earth. + +“They all heard that man order me out of his ship,” he thought, and +thereupon for a second or so he contemplated without flinching the lurid +image of a massacre. “And yet I had to tell her that not a hair of her +head shall be touched. Not a hair.” + +And irrationally at the recollection of these words there seemed to be +no trouble of any kind left in the world. Now and then, however, there +were black instants when from sheer weariness he thought of nothing at +all; and during one of these he fell asleep, losing the consciousness +of external things as suddenly as if he had been felled by a blow on the +head. + +When he sat up, almost before he was properly awake, his first alarmed +conviction was that he had slept the night through. There was a light in +the cuddy and through the open door of his cabin he saw distinctly Mrs. +Travers pass out of view across the lighted space. + +“They did come on board after all,” he thought--“how is it I haven't +been called!” + +He darted into the cuddy. Nobody! Looking up at the clock in the +skylight he was vexed to see it had stopped till his ear caught the +faint beat of the mechanism. It was going then! He could not have been +asleep more than ten minutes. He had not been on board more than twenty! + +So it was only a deception; he had seen no one. And yet he remembered +the turn of the head, the line of the neck, the colour of the hair, +the movement of the passing figure. He returned spiritlessly to his +state-room muttering, “No more sleep for me to-night,” and came out +directly, holding a few sheets of paper covered with a high, angular +handwriting. + +This was Jorgenson's letter written three days before and entrusted to +Hassim. Lingard had read it already twice, but he turned up the lamp a +little higher and sat down to read it again. On the red shield above his +head the gilt sheaf of thunderbolts darting between the initials of his +name seemed to be aimed straight at the nape of his neck as he sat with +bared elbows spread on the table, poring over the crumpled sheets. The +letter began: + +Hassim and Immada are going out to-night to look for you. You are behind +your time and every passing day makes things worse. + +Ten days ago three of Belarab's men, who had been collecting turtles' +eggs on the islets, came flying back with a story of a ship stranded on +the outer mudflats. Belarab at once forbade any boat from leaving the +lagoon. So far good. There was a great excitement in the village. I +judge it must be a schooner--probably some fool of a trader. However, +you will know all about her when you read this. You may say I might +have pulled out to sea to have a look for myself. But besides Belarab's +orders to the contrary, which I would attend to for the sake of example, +all you are worth in this world, Tom, is here in the Emma, under my +feet, and I would not leave my charge even for half a day. Hassim +attended the council held every evening in the shed outside Belarab's +stockade. That holy man Ningrat was for looting that vessel. Hassim +reproved him saying that the vessel probably was sent by you because +no white men were known to come inside the shoals. Belarab backed up +Hassim. Ningrat was very angry and reproached Belarab for keeping him, +Ningrat, short of opium to smoke. He began by calling him “O! son,” + and ended by shouting, “O! you worse than an unbeliever!” There was a +hullabaloo. The followers of Tengga were ready to interfere and you +know how it is between Tengga and Belarab. Tengga always wanted to oust +Belarab, and his chances were getting pretty good before you turned up +and armed Belarab's bodyguard with muskets. However, Hassim stopped that +row, and no one was hurt that time. Next day, which was Friday, Ningrat +after reading the prayers in the mosque talked to the people outside. He +bleated and capered like an old goat, prophesying misfortune, ruin, and +extermination if these whites were allowed to get away. He is mad but +then they think him a saint, and he had been fighting the Dutch for +years in his young days. Six of Belarab's guard marched down the village +street carrying muskets at full cock and the crowd cleared out. Ningrat +was spirited away by Tengga's men into their master's stockade. If it +was not for the fear of you turning up any moment there would have been +a party-fight that evening. I think it is a pity Tengga is not chief +of the land instead of Belarab. A brave and foresighted man, however +treacherous at heart, can always be trusted to a certain extent. One can +never get anything clear from Belarab. Peace! Peace! You know his fad. +And this fad makes him act silly. The peace racket will get him into a +row. It may cost him his life in the end. However, Tengga does not feel +himself strong enough yet to act with his own followers only and Belarab +has, on my advice, disarmed all villagers. His men went into the houses +and took away by force all the firearms and as many spears as they +could lay hands on. The women screamed abuse of course, but there was no +resistance. A few men were seen clearing out into the forest with their +arms. Note this, for it means there is another power beside Belarab's in +the village: the growing power of Tengga. + +One morning--four days ago--I went to see Tengga. I found him by the +shore trimming a plank with a small hatchet while a slave held an +umbrella over his head. He is amusing himself in building a boat just +now. He threw his hatchet down to meet me and led me by the hand to +a shady spot. He told me frankly he had sent out two good swimmers to +observe the stranded vessel. These men stole down the creek in a canoe +and when on the sea coast swam from sandbank to sandbank until they +approached unobserved--I think--to about fifty yards from that schooner +What can that craft be? I can't make it out. The men reported there +were three chiefs on board. One with a glittering eye, one a lean man +in white, and another without any hair on the face and dressed in a +different style. Could it be a woman? I don't know what to think. I wish +you were here. After a lot of chatter Tengga said: “Six years ago I was +ruler of a country and the Dutch drove me out. The country was small but +nothing is too small for them to take. They pretended to give it back +to my nephew--may he burn! I ran away or they would have killed me. I am +nothing here--but I remember. These white people out there can not run +away and they are very few. There is perhaps a little to loot. I would +give it to my men who followed me in my calamity because I am their +chief and my father was the chief of their fathers.” I pointed out the +imprudence of this. He said: “The dead do not show the way.” To this I +remarked that the ignorant do not give information. Tengga kept quiet +for a while, then said: “We must not touch them because their skin is +like yours and to kill them would be wrong, but at the bidding of you +whites we may go and fight with people of our own skin and our own +faith--and that is good. I have promised to Tuan Lingard twenty men and +a prau to make war in Wajo. The men are good and look at the prau; it +is swift and strong.” I must say, Tom, the prau is the best craft of +the kind I have ever seen. I said you paid him well for the help. “And +I also would pay,” says he, “if you let me have a few guns and a little +powder for my men. You and I shall share the loot of that ship outside, +and Tuan Lingard will not know. It is only a little game. You have +plenty of guns and powder under your care.” He meant in the Emma. On +that I spoke out pretty straight and we got rather warm until at last +he gave me to understand that as he had about forty followers of his own +and I had only nine of Hassim's chaps to defend the Emma with, he could +very well go for me and get the lot. “And then,” says he, “I would be so +strong that everybody would be on my side.” I discovered in the course +of further talk that there is a notion amongst many people that you have +come to grief in some way and won't show up here any more. After this +I saw the position was serious and I was in a hurry to get back to the +Emma, but pretending I did not care I smiled and thanked Tengga for +giving me warning of his intentions about me and the Emma. At this he +nearly choked himself with his betel quid and fixing me with his little +eyes, muttered: “Even a lizard will give a fly the time to say its +prayers.” I turned my back on him and was very thankful to get beyond +the throw of a spear. I haven't been out of the Emma since. + + + +IX + +The letter went on to enlarge on the intrigues of Tengga, the wavering +conduct of Belarab, and the state of the public mind. It noted every +gust of opinion and every event, with an earnestness of belief in their +importance befitting the chronicle of a crisis in the history of an +empire. The shade of Jorgenson had, indeed, stepped back into the life +of men. The old adventurer looked on with a perfect understanding of +the value of trifles, using his eyes for that other man whose conscience +would have the task to unravel the tangle. Lingard lived through those +days in the Settlement and was thankful to Jorgenson; only as he lived +not from day to day but from sentence to sentence of the writing, there +was an effect of bewildering rapidity in the succession of events that +made him grunt with surprise sometimes or growl--“What?” to himself +angrily and turn back several lines or a whole page more than once. +Toward the end he had a heavy frown of perplexity and fidgeted as he +read: + +--and I began to think I could keep things quiet till you came or those +wretched white people got their schooner off, when Sherif Daman arrived +from the north on the very day he was expected, with two Illanun praus. +He looks like an Arab. It was very evident to me he can wind the two +Illanun pangerans round his little finger. The two praus are large and +armed. They came up the creek, flags and streamers flying, beating drums +and gongs, and entered the lagoon with their decks full of armed men +brandishing two-handed swords and sounding the war cry. It is a fine +force for you, only Belarab who is a perverse devil would not receive +Sherif Daman at once. So Daman went to see Tengga who detained him a +very long time. Leaving Tengga he came on board the Emma, and I could +see directly there was something up. + +He began by asking me for the ammunition and weapons they are to get +from you, saying he was anxious to sail at once toward Wajo, since it +was agreed he was to precede you by a few days. I replied that that +was true enough but that I could not think of giving him the powder +and muskets till you came. He began to talk about you and hinted that +perhaps you will never come. “And no matter,” says he, “here is Rajah +Hassim and the Lady Immada and we would fight for them if no white man +was left in the world. Only we must have something to fight with.” He +pretended then to forget me altogether and talked with Hassim while I +sat listening. He began to boast how well he got along the Bruni coast. +No Illanun prau had passed down that coast for years. + +Immada wanted me to give the arms he was asking for. The girl is beside +herself with fear of something happening that would put a stopper on +the Wajo expedition. She has set her mind on getting her country back. +Hassim is very reserved but he is very anxious, too. Daman got nothing +from me, and that very evening the praus were ordered by Belarab to +leave the lagoon. He does not trust the Illanuns--and small blame to +him. Sherif Daman went like a lamb. He has no powder for his guns. As +the praus passed by the Emma he shouted to me he was going to wait for +you outside the creek. Tengga has given him a man who would show him the +place. All this looks very queer to me. + +Look out outside then. The praus are dodging amongst the islets. Daman +visits Tengga. Tengga called on me as a good friend to try and persuade +me to give Daman the arms and gunpowder he is so anxious to get. Somehow +or other they tried to get around Belarab, who came to see me last night +and hinted I had better do so. He is anxious for these Illanuns to leave +the neighbourhood. He thinks that if they loot the schooner they will be +off at once. That's all he wants now. Immada has been to see Belarab's +women and stopped two nights in the stockade. Belarab's youngest +wife--he got married six weeks ago--is on the side of Tengga's party +because she thinks Belarab would get a share of the loot and she got +into her silly head there are jewels and silks in that schooner. What +between Tengga worrying him outside and the women worrying him at home, +Belarab had such a lively time of it that he concluded he would go to +pray at his father's tomb. So for the last two days he has been away +camping in that unhealthy place. When he comes back he will be down with +fever as sure as fate and then he will be no good for anything. Tengga +lights up smoky fires often. Some signal to Daman. I go ashore with +Hassim's men and put them out. This is risking a fight every time--for +Tengga's men look very black at us. I don't know what the next move may +be. Hassim's as true as steel. Immada is very unhappy. They will tell +you many details I have no time to write. + +The last page fluttered on the table out of Lingard's fingers. He sat +very still for a moment looking straight before him, then went on deck. + +“Our boats back yet?” he asked Shaw, whom he saw prowling on the +quarter-deck. + +“No, sir, I wish they were. I am waiting for them to go and turn in,” + answered the mate in an aggrieved manner. + +“Lower that lantern forward there,” cried Lingard, suddenly, in Malay. + +“This trade isn't fit for a decent man,” muttered Shaw to himself, and +he moved away to lean on the rail, looking moodily to seaward. After a +while: “There seems to be commotion on board that yacht,” he said. +“I see a lot of lights moving about her decks. Anything wrong, do you +think, sir?” + +“No, I know what it is,” said Lingard in a tone of elation. She has done +it! he thought. + +He returned to the cabin, put away Jorgenson's letter and pulled out the +drawer of the table. It was full of cartridges. He took a musket down, +loaded it, then took another and another. He hammered at the waddings +with fierce joyousness. The ramrods rang and jumped. It seemed to him +he was doing his share of some work in which that woman was playing her +part faithfully. “She has done it,” he repeated, mentally. “She will sit +in the cuddy. She will sleep in my berth. Well, I'm not ashamed of the +brig. By heavens--no! I shall keep away: never come near them as I've +promised. Now there's nothing more to say. I've told her everything at +once. There's nothing more.” + +He felt a heaviness in his burning breast, in all his limbs as if the +blood in his veins had become molten lead. + +“I shall get the yacht off. Three, four days--no, a week.” + +He found he couldn't do it under a week. It occurred to him he would see +her every day till the yacht was afloat. No, he wouldn't intrude, but he +was master and owner of the brig after all. He didn't mean to skulk like +a whipped cur about his own decks. + +“It'll be ten days before the schooner is ready. I'll take every scrap +of ballast out of her. I'll strip her--I'll take her lower masts out +of her, by heavens! I'll make sure. Then another week to fit +out--and--goodbye. Wish I had never seen them. Good-bye--forever. Home's +the place for them. Not for me. On another coast she would not have +listened. Ah, but she is a woman--every inch of her. I shall shake +hands. Yes. I shall take her hand--just before she goes. Why the devil +not? I am master here after all--in this brig--as good as any one--by +heavens, better than any one--better than any one on earth.” + +He heard Shaw walk smartly forward above his head hailing: + +“What's that--a boat?” + +A voice answered indistinctly. + +“One of my boats is back,” thought Lingard. “News about Daman perhaps. +I don't care if he kicks. I wish he would. I would soon show her I can +fight as well as I can handle the brig. Two praus. Only two praus. I +wouldn't mind if there were twenty. I would sweep 'em off the sea--I +would blow 'em out of the water--I would make the brig walk over them. +'Now,' I'd say to her, 'you who are not afraid, look how it's done!'” + +He felt light. He had the sensation of being whirled high in the midst +of an uproar and as powerless as a feather in a hurricane. He shuddered +profoundly. His arms hung down, and he stood before the table staring +like a man overcome by some fatal intelligence. + +Shaw, going into the waist to receive what he thought was one of the +brig's boats, came against Carter making his way aft hurriedly. + +“Hullo! Is it you again?” he said, swiftly, barring the way. + +“I come from the yacht,” began Carter with some impatience. + +“Where else could you come from?” said Shaw. “And what might you want +now?” + +“I want to see your skipper.” + +“Well, you can't,” declared Shaw, viciously. “He's turned in for the +night.” + +“He expects me,” said Carter, stamping his foot. “I've got to tell him +what happened.” + +“Don't you fret yourself, young man,” said Shaw in a superior manner; +“he knows all about it.” + +They stood suddenly silent in the dark. Carter seemed at a loss what to +do. Shaw, though surprised by it, enjoyed the effect he had produced. + +“Damn me, if I did not think so,” murmured Carter to himself; then +drawling coolly asked--“And perhaps you know, too?” + +“What do you think? Think I am a dummy here? I ain't mate of this brig +for nothing.” + +“No, you are not,” said Carter with a certain bitterness of tone. +“People do all kinds of queer things for a living, and I am not +particular myself, but I would think twice before taking your billet.” + +“What? What do you in-si-nu-ate. My billet? You ain't fit for it, you +yacht-swabbing brass-buttoned imposter.” + +“What's this? Any of our boats back?” asked Lingard from the poop. “Let +the seacannie in charge come to me at once.” + +“There's only a message from the yacht,” began Shaw, deliberately. + +“Yacht! Get the deck lamps along here in the waist! See the ladder +lowered. Bear a hand, serang! Mr. Shaw! Burn the flare up aft. Two of +them! Give light to the yacht's boats that will be coming alongside. +Steward! Where's that steward? Turn him out then.” + +Bare feet began to patter all round Carter. Shadows glided swiftly. + +“Are these flares coming? Where's the quartermaster on duty?” shouted +Lingard in English and Malay. “This way, come here! Put it on a rocket +stick--can't you? Hold over the side--thus! Stand by with the lines for +the boats forward there. Mr. Shaw--we want more light!” + +“Aye, aye, sir,” called out Shaw, but he did not move, as if dazed by +the vehemence of his commander. + +“That's what we want,” muttered Carter under his breath. “Imposter! What +do you call yourself?” he said half aloud to Shaw. + +The ruddy glare of the flares disclosed Lingard from head to foot, +standing at the break of the poop. His head was bare, his face, crudely +lighted, had a fierce and changing expression in the sway of flames. + +“What can be his game?” thought Carter, impressed by the powerful +and wild aspect of that figure. “He's changed somehow since I saw him +first,” he reflected. It struck him the change was serious, not exactly +for the worse, perhaps--and yet. . . . Lingard smiled at him from the +poop. + +Carter went up the steps and without pausing informed him of what had +happened. + +“Mrs. Travers told me to go to you at once. She's very upset as you may +guess,” he drawled, looking Lingard hard in the face. Lingard knitted +his eyebrows. “The hands, too, are scared,” Carter went on. “They fancy +the savages, or whatever they may be who stole the owner, are going to +board the yacht every minute. I don't think so myself but--” + +“Quite right--most unlikely,” muttered Lingard. + +“Aye, I daresay you know all about it,” continued Carter, coolly, “the +men are startled and no mistake, but I can't blame them very much. There +isn't enough even of carving knives aboard to go round. One old signal +gun! A poor show for better men than they.” + +“There's no mistake I suppose about this affair?” asked Lingard. + +“Well, unless the gentlemen are having a lark with us at hide and seek. +The man says he waited ten minutes at the point, then pulled slowly +along the bank looking out, expecting to see them walking back. He +made the trunk of a tree apparently stranded on the sand and as he was +sculling past he says a man jumped up from behind that log, flung a +stick at him and went off running. He backed water at once and began to +shout, 'Are you there, sir?' No one answered. He could hear the bushes +rustle and some strange noises like whisperings. It was very dark. After +calling out several times, and waiting on his oars, he got frightened +and pulled back to the yacht. That is clear enough. The only doubt in +my mind is if they are alive or not. I didn't let on to Mrs. Travers. +That's a kind of thing you keep to yourself, of course.” + +“I don't think they are dead,” said Lingard, slowly, and as if thinking +of something else. + +“Oh! If you say so it's all right,” said Carter with deliberation. + +“What?” asked Lingard, absently; “fling a stick, did they? Fling a +spear!” + +“That's it!” assented Carter, “but I didn't say anything. I only +wondered if the same kind of stick hadn't been flung at the owner, +that's all. But I suppose you know your business best, Captain.” + +Lingard, grasping his whole beard, reflected profoundly, erect and with +bowed head in the glare of the flares. + +“I suppose you think it's my doing?” he asked, sharply, without looking +up. + +Carter surveyed him with a candidly curious gaze. “Well, Captain, Mrs. +Travers did let on a bit to me about our chief-officer's boat. You've +stopped it, haven't you? How she got to know God only knows. She +was sorry she spoke, too, but it wasn't so much of news to me as she +thought. I can put two and two together, sometimes. Those rockets, last +night, eh? I wished I had bitten my tongue out before I told you about +our first gig. But I was taken unawares. Wasn't I? I put it to you: +wasn't I? And so I told her when she asked me what passed between +you and me on board this brig, not twenty-four hours ago. Things look +different now, all of a sudden. Enough to scare a woman, but she is +the best man of them all on board. The others are fairly off the chump +because it's a bit dark and something has happened they ain't used to. +But she has something on her mind. I can't make her out!” He paused, +wriggled his shoulders slightly--“No more than I can make you out,” he +added. + +“That's your trouble, is it?” said Lingard, slowly. + +“Aye, Captain. Is it all clear to you? Stopping boats, kidnapping +gentlemen. That's fun in a way, only--I am a youngster to you--but is it +all clear to you? Old Robinson wasn't particular, you know, and he--” + +“Clearer than daylight,” cried Lingard, hotly. “I can't give up--” + +He checked himself. Carter waited. The flare bearers stood rigid, +turning their faces away from the flame, and in the play of gleams at +its foot the mast near by, like a lofty column, ascended in the great +darkness. A lot of ropes ran up slanting into a dark void and were +lost to sight, but high aloft a brace block gleamed white, the end of a +yard-arm could be seen suspended in the air and as if glowing with its +own light. The sky had clouded over the brig without a breath of wind. + +“Give up,” repeated Carter with an uneasy shuffle of feet. + +“Nobody,” finished Lingard. “I can't. It's as clear as daylight. I +can't! No! Nothing!” + +He stared straight out afar, and after looking at him Carter felt moved +by a bit of youthful intuition to murmur, “That's bad,” in a tone +that almost in spite of himself hinted at the dawning of a befogged +compassion. + +He had a sense of confusion within him, the sense of mystery without. +He had never experienced anything like it all the time when serving with +old Robinson in the Ly-e-moon. And yet he had seen and taken part in +some queer doings that were not clear to him at the time. They were +secret but they suggested something comprehensible. This affair did not. +It had somehow a subtlety that affected him. He was uneasy as if there +had been a breath of magic on events and men giving to this complication +of a yachting voyage a significance impossible to perceive, but felt +in the words, in the gestures, in the events, which made them all +strangely, obscurely startling. + +He was not one who could keep track of his sensations, and besides he +had not the leisure. He had to answer Lingard's questions about the +people of the yacht. No, he couldn't say Mrs. Travers was what you may +call frightened. She seemed to have something in her mind. Oh, yes! The +chaps were in a funk. Would they fight? Anybody would fight when driven +to it, funk or no funk. That was his experience. Naturally one liked +to have something better than a handspike to do it with. Still--In the +pause Carter seemed to weigh with composure the chances of men with +handspikes. + +“What do you want to fight us for?” he asked, suddenly. + +Lingard started. + +“I don't,” he said; “I wouldn't be asking you.” + +“There's no saying what you would do, Captain,” replied Carter; “it +isn't twenty-four hours since you wanted to shoot me.” + +“I only said I would, rather than let you go raising trouble for me,” + explained Lingard. + +“One night isn't like another,” mumbled Carter, “but how am I to know? +It seems to me you are making trouble for yourself as fast as you can.” + +“Well, supposing I am,” said Lingard with sudden gloominess. “Would your +men fight if I armed them properly?” + +“What--for you or for themselves?” asked Carter. + +“For the woman,” burst out Lingard. “You forget there's a woman on +board. I don't care _that_ for their carcases.” + +Carter pondered conscientiously. + +“Not to-night,” he said at last. “There's one or two good men amongst +them, but the rest are struck all of a heap. Not to-night. Give them +time to get steady a bit if you want them to fight.” + +He gave facts and opinions with a mixture of loyalty and mistrust. His +own state puzzled him exceedingly. He couldn't make out anything, he did +not know what to believe and yet he had an impulsive desire, an inspired +desire to help the man. At times it appeared a necessity--at others +policy; between whiles a great folly, which perhaps did not matter +because he suspected himself of being helpless anyway. Then he had +moments of anger. In those moments he would feel in his pocket the +butt of a loaded pistol. He had provided himself with the weapon, when +directed by Mrs. Travers to go on board the brig. + +“If he wants to interfere with me, I'll let drive at him and take my +chance of getting away,” he had explained hurriedly. + +He remembered how startled Mrs. Travers looked. Of course, a woman like +that--not used to hear such talk. Therefore it was no use listening to +her, except for good manners' sake. Once bit twice shy. He had no mind +to be kidnapped, not he, nor bullied either. + +“I can't let him nab me, too. You will want me now, Mrs. Travers,” he +had said; “and I promise you not to fire off the old thing unless he +jolly well forces me to.” + +He was youthfully wise in his resolution not to give way to her +entreaties, though her extraordinary agitation did stagger him for a +moment. When the boat was already on its way to the brig, he remembered +her calling out after him: + +“You must not! You don't understand.” + +Her voice coming faintly in the darkness moved him, it resembled so much +a cry of distress. + +“Give way, boys, give way,” he urged his men. + +He was wise, resolute, and he was also youthful enough to almost wish +it should “come to it.” And with foresight he even instructed the boat's +crew to keep the gig just abaft the main rigging of the brig. + +“When you see me drop into her all of a sudden, shove off and pull for +dear life.” + +Somehow just then he was not so anxious for a shot, but he held on with +a determined mental grasp to his fine resolution, lest it should slip +away from him and perish in a sea of doubts. + +“Hadn't I better get back to the yacht?” he asked, gently. + +Getting no answer he went on with deliberation: + +“Mrs. Travers ordered me to say that no matter how this came about +she is ready to trust you. She is waiting for some kind of answer, I +suppose.” + +“Ready to trust me,” repeated Lingard. His eyes lit up fiercely. + +Every sway of flares tossed slightly to and fro the massy shadows of +the main deck, where here and there the figure of a man could be seen +standing very still with a dusky face and glittering eyeballs. + +Carter stole his hand warily into his breast pocket: + +“Well, Captain,” he said. He was not going to be bullied, let the +owner's wife trust whom she liked. + +“Have you got anything in writing for me there?” asked Lingard, +advancing a pace, exultingly. + +Carter, alert, stepped back to keep his distance. Shaw stared from the +side; his rubicund cheeks quivered, his round eyes seemed starting out +of his head, and his mouth was open as though he had been ready to choke +with pent-up curiosity, amazement, and indignation. + +“No! Not in writing,” said Carter, steadily and low. + +Lingard had the air of being awakened by a shout. A heavy and darkening +frown seemed to fall out of the night upon his forehead and swiftly +passed into the night again, and when it departed it left him so calm, +his glance so lucid, his mien so composed that it was difficult to +believe the man's heart had undergone within the last second the trial +of humiliation and of danger. He smiled sadly: + +“Well, young man,” he asked with a kind of good-humoured resignation, +“what is it you have there? A knife or a pistol?” + +“A pistol,” said Carter. “Are you surprised, Captain?” He spoke with +heat because a sense of regret was stealing slowly within him, as +stealthily, as irresistibly as the flowing tide. “Who began these +tricks?” He withdrew his hand, empty, and raised his voice. “You are up +to something I can't make out. You--you are not straight.” + +The flares held on high streamed right up without swaying, and in that +instant of profound calm the shadows on the brig's deck became as still +as the men. + +“You think not?” said Lingard, thoughtfully. + +Carter nodded. He resented the turn of the incident and the growing +impulse to surrender to that man. + +“Mrs. Travers trusts me though,” went on Lingard with gentle triumph as +if advancing an unanswerable argument. + +“So she says,” grunted Carter; “I warned her. She's a baby. They're all +as innocent as babies there. And you know it. And I know it. I've heard +of your kind. You would dump the lot of us overboard if it served your +turn. That's what I think.” + +“And that's all.” + +Carter nodded slightly and looked away. There was a silence. Lingard's +eyes travelled over the brig. The lighted part of the vessel appeared in +bright and wavering detail walled and canopied by the night. He felt a +light breath on his face. The air was stirring, but the Shallows, silent +and lost in the darkness, gave no sound of life. + +This stillness oppressed Lingard. The world of his endeavours and his +hopes seemed dead, seemed gone. His desire existed homeless in the +obscurity that had devoured his corner of the sea, this stretch of the +coast, his certitude of success. And here in the midst of what was the +domain of his adventurous soul there was a lost youngster ready to shoot +him on suspicion of some extravagant treachery. Came ready to shoot! +That's good, too! He was too weary to laugh--and perhaps too sad. Also +the danger of the pistol-shot, which he believed real--the young are +rash--irritated him. The night and the spot were full of contradictions. +It was impossible to say who in this shadowy warfare was to be an enemy, +and who were the allies. So close were the contacts issuing from this +complication of a yachting voyage, that he seemed to have them all +within his breast. + +“Shoot me! He is quite up to that trick--damn him. Yet I would trust him +sooner than any man in that yacht.” + +Such were his thoughts while he looked at Carter, who was biting his +lips, in the vexation of the long silence. When they spoke again to each +other they talked soberly, with a sense of relief, as if they had come +into cool air from an overheated room and when Carter, dismissed, went +into his boat, he had practically agreed to the line of action traced +by Lingard for the crew of the yacht. He had agreed as if in implicit +confidence. It was one of the absurdities of the situation which had to +be accepted and could never be understood. + +“Do I talk straight now?” had asked Lingard. + +“It seems straight enough,” assented Carter with an air of reserve; “I +will work with you so far anyhow.” + +“Mrs. Travers trusts me,” remarked Lingard again. + +“By the Lord Harry!” cried Carter, giving way suddenly to some latent +conviction. “I was warning her against you. Say, Captain, you are a +devil of a man. How did you manage it?” + +“I trusted her,” said Lingard. + +“Did you?” cried the amazed Carter. “When? How? Where--” + +“You know too much already,” retorted Lingard, quietly. “Waste no time. +I will be after you.” + +Carter whistled low. + +“There's a pair of you I can't make out,” he called back, hurrying over +the side. + +Shaw took this opportunity to approach. Beginning with hesitation: “A +word with you, sir,” the mate went on to say he was a respectable man. +He delivered himself in a ringing, unsteady voice. He was married, he +had children, he abhorred illegality. The light played about his obese +figure, he had flung his mushroom hat on the deck, he was not afraid to +speak the truth. The grey moustache stood out aggressively, his glances +were uneasy; he pressed his hands to his stomach convulsively, opened +his thick, short arms wide, wished it to be understood he had been +chief-officer of home ships, with a spotless character and he hoped +“quite up to his work.” He was a peaceable man, none more; disposed +to stretch a point when it “came to a difference with niggers of some +kind--they had to be taught manners and reason” and he was not averse at +a pinch to--but here were white people--gentlemen, ladies, not to speak +of the crew. He had never spoken to a superior like this before, +and this was prudence, his conviction, a point of view, a point of +principle, a conscious superiority and a burst of resentment hoarded +through years against all the successive and unsatisfactory captains of +his existence. There never had been such an opportunity to show he could +not be put upon. He had one of them on a string and he was going to lead +him a dance. There was courage, too, in it, since he believed himself +fallen unawares into the clutches of a particularly desperate man and +beyond the reach of law. + +A certain small amount of calculation entered the audacity of his +remonstrance. Perhaps--it flashed upon him--the yacht's gentry will hear +I stood up for them. This could conceivably be of advantage to a man +who wanted a lift in the world. “Owner of a yacht--badly scared--a +gentleman--money nothing to him.” Thereupon Shaw declared with heat that +he couldn't be an accessory either after or before the fact. Those +that never went home--who had nothing to go to perhaps--he interjected, +hurriedly, could do as they liked. He couldn't. He had a wife, a +family, a little house--paid for--with difficulty. He followed the sea +respectably out and home, all regular, not vagabonding here and there, +chumming with the first nigger that came along and laying traps for his +betters. + +One of the two flare bearers sighed at his elbow, and shifted his weight +to the other foot. + +These two had been keeping so perfectly still that the movement was +as startling as if a statue had changed its pose. After looking at the +offender with cold malevolence, Shaw went on to speak of law-courts, +of trials, and of the liberty of the subject; then he pointed out the +certitude and the inconvenience of being found out, affecting for the +moment the dispassionateness of wisdom. + +“There will be fifteen years in gaol at the end of this job for +everybody,” said Shaw, “and I have a boy that don't know his father yet. +Fine things for him to learn when he grows up. The innocent are dead +certain here to catch it along with you. The missus will break her heart +unless she starves first. Home sold up.” + +He saw a mysterious iniquity in a dangerous relation to himself and +began to lose his head. What he really wanted was to have his +existence left intact, for his own cherishing and pride. It was a moral +aspiration, but in his alarm the native grossness of his nature came +clattering out like a devil out of a trap. He would blow the gaff, +split, give away the whole show, he would back up honest people, kiss +the book, say what he thought, let all the world know . . . and when he +paused to draw breath, all around him was silent and still. Before the +impetus of that respectable passion his words were scattered like chaff +driven by a gale and rushed headlong into the night of the Shallows. And +in the great obscurity, imperturbable, it heard him say he “washed his +hands of everything.” + +“And the brig?” asked Lingard, suddenly. + +Shaw was checked. For a second the seaman in him instinctively admitted +the claim of the ship. + +“The brig. The brig. She's right enough,” he mumbled. He had nothing to +say against the brig--not he. She wasn't like the big ships he was used +to, but of her kind the best craft he ever. . . . And with a brusque +return upon himself, he protested that he had been decoyed on board +under false pretences. It was as bad as being shanghaied when in liquor. +It was--upon his soul. And into a craft next thing to a pirate! That +was the name for it or his own name was not Shaw. He said this glaring +owlishly. Lingard, perfectly still and mute, bore the blows without a +sign. + +The silly fuss of that man seared his very soul. There was no end to +this plague of fools coming to him from the forgotten ends of the earth. +A fellow like that could not be told. No one could be told. Blind they +came and blind they would go out. He admitted reluctantly, but without +doubt, that as if pushed by a force from outside he would have to +try and save two of them. To this end he foresaw the probable need of +leaving his brig for a time. He would have to leave her with that man. +The mate. He had engaged him himself--to make his insurance valid--to be +able sometimes to speak--to have near him. Who would have believed such +a fool-man could exist on the face of the sea! Who? Leave the brig with +him. The brig! + +Ever since sunset, the breeze kept off by the heat of the day had been +trying to re-establish in the darkness its sway over the Shoals. Its +approaches had been heard in the night, its patient murmurs, its foiled +sighs; but now a surprisingly heavy puff came in a free rush as if, +far away there to the northward, the last defence of the calm had +been victoriously carried. The flames borne down streamed bluishly, +horizontal and noisy at the end of tall sticks, like fluttering +pennants; and behold, the shadows on the deck went mad and jostled each +other as if trying to escape from a doomed craft, the darkness, held +up dome-like by the brilliant glare, seemed to tumble headlong upon the +brig in an overwhelming downfall, the men stood swaying as if ready +to fall under the ruins of a black and noiseless disaster. The blurred +outlines of the brig, the masts, the rigging, seemed to shudder in the +terror of coming extinction--and then the darkness leaped upward again, +the shadows returned to their places, the men were seen distinct, +swarthy, with calm faces, with glittering eyeballs. The destruction in +the breath had passed, was gone. + +A discord of three voices raised together in a drawling wail trailed on +the sudden immobility of the air. + +“Brig ahoy! Give us a rope!” + +The first boat-load from the yacht emerged floating slowly into the +pool of purple light wavering round the brig on the black water. Two men +squeezed in the bows pulled uncomfortably; in the middle, on a heap of +seamen's canvas bags, another sat, insecure, propped with both arms, +stiff-legged, angularly helpless. The light from the poop brought +everything out in lurid detail, and the boat floating slowly toward the +brig had a suspicious and pitiful aspect. The shabby load lumbering +her looked somehow as if it had been stolen by those men who resembled +castaways. In the sternsheets Carter, standing up, steered with his leg. +He had a smile of youthful sarcasm. + +“Here they are!” he cried to Lingard. “You've got your own way, Captain. +I thought I had better come myself with the first precious lot--” + +“Pull around the stern. The brig's on the swing,” interrupted Lingard. + +“Aye, aye! We'll try not to smash the brig. We would be lost indeed +if--fend off there, John; fend off, old reliable, if you care a pin +for your salty hide. I like the old chap,” he said, when he stood by +Lingard's side looking down at the boat which was being rapidly cleared +by whites and Malays working shoulder to shoulder in silence. “I like +him. He don't belong to that yachting lot either. They picked him up +on the road somewhere. Look at the old dog--carved out of a ship's +timber--as talkative as a fish--grim as a gutted wreck. That's the man +for me. All the others there are married, or going to be, or ought +to be, or sorry they ain't. Every man jack of them has a petticoat in +tow--dash me! Never heard in all my travels such a jabber about wives +and kids. Hurry up with your dunnage--below there! Aye! I had no +difficulty in getting them to clear out from the yacht. They never saw +a pair of gents stolen before--you understand. It upset all their little +notions of what a stranding means, hereabouts. Not that mine aren't +mixed a bit, too--and yet I've seen a thing or two.” + +His excitement was revealed in this boyish impulse to talk. + +“Look,” he said, pointing at the growing pile of bags and bedding on the +brig's quarter-deck. “Look. Don't they mean to sleep soft--and dream of +home--maybe. Home. Think of that, Captain. These chaps can't get clear +away from it. It isn't like you and me--” + +Lingard made a movement. + +“I ran away myself when so high. My old man's a Trinity pilot. That's a +job worth staying at home for. Mother writes sometimes, but they can't +miss me much. There's fourteen of us altogether--eight at home yet. No +fear of the old country ever getting undermanned--let die who must. Only +let it be a fair game, Captain. Let's have a fair show.” + +Lingard assured him briefly he should have it. That was the very reason +he wanted the yacht's crew in the brig, he added. Then quiet and grave +he inquired whether that pistol was still in Carter's pocket. + +“Never mind that,” said the young man, hurriedly. “Remember who began. +To be shot at wouldn't rile me so much--it's being threatened, don't you +see, that was heavy on my chest. Last night is very far off though--and +I will be hanged if I know what I meant exactly when I took the old +thing from its nail. There. More I can't say till all's settled one way +or another. Will that do?” + +Flushing brick red, he suspended his judgment and stayed his hand with +the generosity of youth. + +. . . . . . . + +Apparently it suited Lingard to be reprieved in that form. He bowed +his head slowly. It would do. To leave his life to that youngster's +ignorance seemed to redress the balance of his mind against a lot of +secret intentions. It was distasteful and bitter as an expiation should +be. He also held a life in his hand; a life, and many deaths besides, +but these were like one single feather in the scales of his conscience. +That he should feel so was unavoidable because his strength would at no +price permit itself to be wasted. It would not be--and there was an +end of it. All he could do was to throw in another risk into the sea +of risks. Thus was he enabled to recognize that a drop of water in +the ocean makes a great difference. His very desire, unconquered, but +exiled, had left the place where he could constantly hear its voice. He +saw it, he saw himself, the past, the future, he saw it all, shifting +and indistinct like those shapes the strained eye of a wanderer outlines +in darker strokes upon the face of the night. + + + +X + +When Lingard went to his boat to follow Carter, who had gone back to the +yacht, Wasub, mast and sail on shoulder, preceded him down the ladder. +The old man leaped in smartly and busied himself in getting the dinghy +ready for his commander. + +In that little boat Lingard was accustomed to traverse the Shallows +alone. She had a short mast and a lug-sail, carried two easily, floated +in a few inches of water. In her he was independent of a crew, and, if +the wind failed, could make his way with a pair of sculls taking short +cuts over shoal places. There were so many islets and sandbanks that in +case of sudden bad weather there was always a lee to be found, and when +he wished to land he could pull her up a beach, striding ahead, painter +in hand, like a giant child dragging a toy boat. When the brig was +anchored within the Shallows it was in her that he visited the lagoon. +Once, when caught by a sudden freshening of the sea-breeze, he had waded +up a shelving bank carrying her on his head and for two days they had +rested together on the sand, while around them the shallow waters raged +lividly, and across three miles of foam the brig would time after time +dissolve in the mist and re-appear distinct, nodding her tall spars that +seemed to touch a weeping sky of lamentable greyness. + +Whenever he came into the lagoon tugging with bare arms, Jorgenson, +who would be watching the entrance of the creek ever since a muffled +detonation of a gun to seaward had warned him of the brig's arrival on +the Shore of Refuge, would mutter to himself--“Here's Tom coming in his +nutshell.” And indeed she was in shape somewhat like half a nutshell and +also in the colour of her dark varnished planks. The man's shoulders and +head rose high above her gunwales; loaded with Lingard's heavy frame she +would climb sturdily the steep ridges, slide squatting into the hollows +of the sea, or, now and then, take a sedate leap over a short wave. Her +behaviour had a stout trustworthiness about it, and she reminded one of +a surefooted mountain-pony carrying over difficult ground a rider much +bigger than himself. + +Wasub wiped the thwarts, ranged the mast and sail along the side, +shipped the rowlocks. Lingard looked down at his old servant's spare +shoulders upon which the light from above fell unsteady but vivid. Wasub +worked for the comfort of his commander and his singleminded absorption +in that task flashed upon Lingard the consolation of an act of +friendliness. The elderly Malay at last lifted his head with a +deferential murmur; his wrinkled old face with half a dozen wiry hairs +pendulous at each corner of the dark lips expressed a kind of weary +satisfaction, and the slightly oblique worn eyes stole a discreet upward +glance containing a hint of some remote meaning. Lingard found himself +compelled by the justice of that obscure claim to murmur as he stepped +into the boat: + +“These are times of danger.” + +He sat down and took up the sculls. Wasub held on to the gunwale as to a +last hope of a further confidence. He had served in the brig five years. +Lingard remembered that very well. This aged figure had been intimately +associated with the brig's life and with his own, appearing silently +ready for every incident and emergency in an unquestioning expectation +of orders; symbolic of blind trust in his strength, of an unlimited +obedience to his will. Was it unlimited? + +“We shall require courage and fidelity,” added Lingard, in a tentative +tone. + +“There are those who know me,” snapped the old man, readily, as if the +words had been waiting for a long time. “Observe, Tuan. I have filled +with fresh water the little breaker in the bows.” + +“I know you, too,” said Lingard. + +“And the wind--and the sea,” ejaculated the serang, jerkily. “These +also are faithful to the strong. By Allah! I who am a pilgrim and have +listened to words of wisdom in many places, I tell you, Tuan, there is +strength in the knowledge of what is hidden in things without life, as +well as in the living men. Will Tuan be gone long?” + +“I come back in a short time--together with the rest of the whites from +over there. This is the beginning of many stratagems. Wasub! Daman, the +son of a dog, has suddenly made prisoners two of my own people. My face +is made black.” + +“Tse! Tse! What ferocity is that! One should not offer shame to a friend +or to a friend's brother lest revenge come sweeping like a flood. Yet +can an Illanun chief be other than tyrannical? My old eyes have seen +much but they never saw a tiger change its stripes. Ya-wa! The tiger can +not. This is the wisdom of us ignorant Malay men. The wisdom of white +Tuans is great. They think that by the power of many speeches the tiger +may--” He broke off and in a crisp, busy tone said: “The rudder dwells +safely under the aftermost seat should Tuan be pleased to sail the boat. +This breeze will not die away before sunrise.” Again his voice changed +as if two different souls had been flitting in and out of his body. “No, +no, kill the tiger and then the stripes may be counted without fear--one +by one, thus.” + +He pointed a frail brown finger and, abruptly, made a mirthless dry +sound as if a rattle had been sprung in his throat. + +“The wretches are many,” said Lingard. + +“Nay, Tuan. They follow their great men even as we in the brig follow +you. That is right.” + +Lingard reflected for a moment. + +“My men will follow me then,” he said. + +“They are poor calashes without sense,” commented Wasub with pitying +superiority. “Some with no more comprehension than men of the bush +freshly caught. There is Sali, the foolish son of my sister and by your +great favour appointed to mind the tiller of this ship. His stupidity is +extreme, but his eyes are good--nearly as good as mine that by praying +and much exercise can see far into the night.” + +Lingard laughed low and then looked earnestly at the serang. Above their +heads a man shook a flare over the side and a thin shower of sparks +floated downward and expired before touching the water. + +“So you can see in the night, O serang! Well, then, look and speak. +Speak! Fight--or no fight? Weapons or words? Which folly? Well, what do +you see?” + +“A darkness, a darkness,” whispered Wasub at last in a frightened tone. +“There are nights--” He shook his head and muttered. “Look. The tide has +turned. Ya, Tuan. The tide has turned.” + +Lingard looked downward where the water could be seen, gliding past the +ship's side, moving smoothly, streaked with lines of froth, across the +illumined circle thrown round the brig by the lights on her poop. +Air bubbles sparkled, lines of darkness, ripples of glitter appeared, +glided, went astern without a splash, without a trickle, without a +plaint, without a break. The unchecked gentleness of the flow captured +the eye by a subtle spell, fastened insidiously upon the mind a +disturbing sense of the irretrievable. The ebbing of the sea athwart the +lonely sheen of flames resembled the eternal ebb-tide of time; and when +at last Lingard looked up, the knowledge of that noiseless passage of +the waters produced on his mind a bewildering effect. For a moment the +speck of light lost in vast obscurity the brig, the boat, the hidden +coast, the Shallows, the very walls and roof of darkness--the seen +and the unseen alike seemed to be gliding smoothly onward through the +enormous gloom of space. Then, with a great mental effort, he brought +everything to a sudden standstill; and only the froth and bubbles went +on streaming past ceaselessly, unchecked by the power of his will. + +“The tide has turned--you say, serang? Has it--? Well, perhaps it has, +perhaps it has,” he finished, muttering to himself. + +“Truly it has. Can not Tuan see it run under his own eyes?” said Wasub +with an alarmed earnestness. “Look. Now it is in my mind that a prau +coming from amongst the southern islands, if steered cunningly in the +free set of the current, would approach the bows of this, our brig, +drifting silently as a shape without a substance.” + +“And board suddenly--is that it?” said Lingard. + +“Daman is crafty and the Illanuns are very bloodthirsty. Night is +nothing to them. They are certainly valorous. Are they not born in the +midst of fighting and are they not inspired by the evil of their hearts +even before they can speak? And their chiefs would be leading them while +you, Tuan, are going from us even now--” + +“You don't want me to go?” asked Lingard. + +For a time Wasub listened attentively to the profound silence. + +“Can we fight without a leader?” he began again. “It is the belief in +victory that gives courage. And what would poor calashes do, sons of +peasants and fishermen, freshly caught--without knowledge? They believe +in your strength--and in your power--or else--Will those whites that +came so suddenly avenge you? They are here like fish within the stakes. +Ya-wa! Who will bring the news and who will come to find the truth and +perchance to carry off your body? You go alone, Tuan!” + +“There must be no fighting. It would be a calamity,” insisted Lingard. +“There is blood that must not be spilt.” + +“Hear, Tuan!” exclaimed Wasub with heat. “The waters are running out +now.” He punctuated his speech by slight jerks at the dinghy. “The +waters go and at the appointed time they shall return. And if between +their going and coming the blood of all the men in the world were poured +into it, the sea would not rise higher at the full by the breadth of my +finger nail.” + +“But the world would not be the same. You do not see that, serang. Give +the boat a good shove.” + +“Directly,” said the old Malay and his face became impassive. “Tuan +knows when it is best to go, and death sometimes retreats before a firm +tread like a startled snake. Tuan should take a follower with him, not +a silly youth, but one who has lived--who has a steady heart--who would +walk close behind watchfully--and quietly. Yes. Quietly and with quick +eyes--like mine--perhaps with a weapon--I know how to strike.” + +Lingard looked at the wrinkled visage very near his own and into the +peering old eyes. They shone strangely. A tense eagerness was expressed +in the squatting figure leaning out toward him. On the other +side, within reach of his arm, the night stood like a wall +-discouraging--opaque--impenetrable. No help would avail. The darkness +he had to combat was too impalpable to be cleft by a blow--too dense to +be pierced by the eye; yet as if by some enchantment in the words that +made this vain offer of fidelity, it became less overpowering to his +sight, less crushing to his thought. He had a moment of pride which +soothed his heart for the space of two beats. His unreasonable and +misjudged heart, shrinking before the menace of failure, expanded freely +with a sense of generous gratitude. In the threatening dimness of his +emotions this man's offer made a point of clearness, the glimmer of +a torch held aloft in the night. It was priceless, no doubt, but +ineffectual; too small, too far, too solitary. It did not dispel the +mysterious obscurity that had descended upon his fortunes so that his +eyes could no longer see the work of his hands. The sadness of defeat +pervaded the world. + +“And what could you do, O Wasub?” he said. + +“I could always call out--'Take care, Tuan.'” + +“And then for these charm-words of mine. Hey? Turn danger aside? What? +But perchance you would die all the same. Treachery is a strong magic, +too--as you said.” + +“Yes, indeed! The order might come to your servant. But I--Wasub--the +son of a free man, a follower of Rajahs, a fugitive, a slave, a +pilgrim--diver for pearls, serang of white men's ships, I have had too +many masters. Too many. You are the last.” After a silence he said in an +almost indifferent voice: “If you go, Tuan, let us go together.” + +For a time Lingard made no sound. + +“No use,” he said at last. “No use, serang. One life is enough to pay +for a man's folly--and you have a household.” + +“I have two--Tuan; but it is a long time since I sat on the ladder of +a house to talk at ease with neighbours. Yes. Two households; one in--” + Lingard smiled faintly. “Tuan, let me follow you.” + +“No. You have said it, serang--I am alone. That is true, and alone I +shall go on this very night. But first I must bring all the white people +here. Push.” + +“Ready, Tuan? Look out!” + +Wasub's body swung over the sea with extended arms. Lingard caught up +the sculls, and as the dinghy darted away from the brig's side he had +a complete view of the lighted poop--Shaw leaning massively over the +taffrail in sulky dejection, the flare bearers erect and rigid, the +heads along the rail, the eyes staring after him above the bulwarks. The +fore-end of the brig was wrapped in a lurid and sombre mistiness; the +sullen mingling of darkness and of light; her masts pointing straight up +could be tracked by torn gleams and vanished above as if the trucks +had been tall enough to pierce the heavy mass of vapours motionless +overhead. She was beautifully precious. His loving eyes saw her floating +at rest in a wavering halo, between an invisible sky and an invisible +sea, like a miraculous craft suspended in the air. He turned his +head away as if the sight had been too much for him at the moment of +separation, and, as soon as his little boat had passed beyond the limit +of the light thrown upon the water, he perceived very low in the black +void of the west the stern lantern of the yacht shining feebly like a +star about to set, unattainable, infinitely remote--belonging to another +universe. + + + +PART IV. THE GIFT OF THE SHALLOWS + +I + +Lingard brought Mrs. Travers away from the yacht, going alone with her +in the little boat. During the bustle of the embarkment, and till the +last of the crew had left the schooner, he had remained towering and +silent by her side. It was only when the murmuring and uneasy voices +of the sailors going away in the boats had been completely lost in the +distance that his voice was heard, grave in the silence, pronouncing the +words--“Follow me.” She followed him; their footsteps rang hollow and +loud on the empty deck. At the bottom of the steps he turned round and +said very low: + +“Take care.” + +He got into the boat and held on. It seemed to him that she was +intimidated by the darkness. She felt her arm gripped firmly--“I've got +you,” he said. She stepped in, headlong, trusting herself blindly to his +grip, and sank on the stern seat catching her breath a little. She heard +a slight splash, and the indistinct side of the deserted yacht melted +suddenly into the body of the night. + +Rowing, he faced her, a hooded and cloaked shape, and above her head he +had before his eyes the gleam of the stern lantern expiring slowly on +the abandoned vessel. When it went out without a warning flicker he +could see nothing of the stranded yacht's outline. She had vanished +utterly like a dream; and the occurrences of the last twenty-four hours +seemed also to be a part of a vanished dream. The hooded and cloaked +figure was part of it, too. It spoke not; it moved not; it would vanish +presently. Lingard tried to remember Mrs. Travers' features, even as +she sat within two feet of him in the boat. He seemed to have taken +from that vanished schooner not a woman but a memory--the tormenting +recollection of a human being he would see no more. + +At every stroke of the short sculls Mrs. Travers felt the boat leap +forward with her. Lingard, to keep his direction, had to look over his +shoulder frequently--“You will be safe in the brig,” he said. She was +silent. A dream! A dream! He lay back vigorously; the water slapped +loudly against the blunt bows. The ruddy glow thrown afar by the flares +was reflected deep within the hood. The dream had a pale visage, the +memory had living eyes. + +“I had to come for you myself,” he said. + +“I expected it of you.” These were the first words he had heard her say +since they had met for the third time. + +“And I swore--before you, too--that I would never put my foot on board +your craft.” + +“It was good of you to--” she began. + +“I forgot somehow,” he said, simply. + +“I expected it of you,” she repeated. He gave three quick strokes before +he asked very gently: + +“What more do you expect?” + +“Everything,” she said. He was rounding then the stern of the brig and +had to look away. Then he turned to her. + +“And you trust me to--” he exclaimed. + +“I would like to trust you,” she interrupted, “because--” + +Above them a startled voice cried in Malay, “Captain coming.” The +strange sound silenced her. Lingard laid in his sculls and she saw +herself gliding under the high side of the brig. A dark, staring face +appeared very near her eyes, black fingers caught the gunwale of the +boat. She stood up swaying. “Take care,” said Lingard again, but this +time, in the light, did not offer to help her. She went up alone and he +followed her over the rail. + +The quarter-deck was thronged by men of two races. Lingard and Mrs. +Travers crossed it rapidly between the groups that moved out of the +way on their passage. Lingard threw open the cabin door for her, but +remained on deck to inquire about his boats. They had returned while he +was on board the yacht, and the two men in charge of them came aft to +make their reports. The boat sent north had seen nothing. The boat +which had been directed to explore the banks and islets to the south had +actually been in sight of Daman's praus. The man in charge reported +that several fires were burning on the shore, the crews of the two praus +being encamped on a sandbank. Cooking was going on. They had been near +enough to hear the voices. There was a man keeping watch on the ridge; +they knew this because they heard him shouting to the people below, by +the fires. Lingard wanted to know how they had managed to remain unseen. +“The night was our hiding place,” answered the man in his deep growling +voice. He knew nothing of any white men being in Daman's camp. Why +should there be? Rajah Hassim and the Lady, his sister, appeared +unexpectedly near his boat in their canoe. Rajah Hassim had ordered him +then in whispers to go back to the brig at once, and tell Tuan what he +had observed. Rajah Hassim said also that he would return to the brig +with more news very soon. He obeyed because the Rajah was to him a +person of authority, “having the perfect knowledge of Tuan's mind as we +all know.”--“Enough,” cried Lingard, suddenly. + +The man looked up heavily for a moment, and retreated forward without +another word. Lingard followed him with irritated eyes. A new power had +come into the world, had possessed itself of human speech, had imparted +to it a sinister irony of allusion. To be told that someone had “a +perfect knowledge of his mind” startled him and made him wince. It made +him aware that now he did not know his mind himself--that it seemed +impossible for him ever to regain that knowledge. And the new power not +only had cast its spell upon the words he had to hear, but also upon the +facts that assailed him, upon the people he saw, upon the thoughts he +had to guide, upon the feelings he had to bear. They remained what +they had ever been--the visible surface of life open in the sun to the +conquering tread of an unfettered will. Yesterday they could have been +discerned clearly, mastered and despised; but now another power had come +into the world, and had cast over them all the wavering gloom of a dark +and inscrutable purpose. + + + +II + +Recovering himself with a slight start Lingard gave the order to +extinguish all the lights in the brig. Now the transfer of the crew from +the yacht had been effected there was every advantage in the darkness. +He gave the order from instinct, it being the right thing to do in the +circumstances. His thoughts were in the cabin of his brig, where there +was a woman waiting. He put his hand over his eyes, collecting himself +as if before a great mental effort. He could hear about him the excited +murmurs of the white men whom in the morning he had so ardently desired +to have safe in his keeping. He had them there now; but accident, +ill-luck, a cursed folly, had tricked him out of the success of his +plan. He would have to go in and talk to Mrs. Travers. The idea dismayed +him. Of necessity he was not one of those men who have the mastery of +expression. To liberate his soul was for him a gigantic undertaking, +a matter of desperate effort, of doubtful success. “I must have it +out with her,” he murmured to himself as though at the prospect of +a struggle. He was uncertain of himself, of her; he was uncertain of +everything and everybody; but he was very certain he wanted to look at +her. + +At the moment he turned to the door of the cabin both flares went out +together and the black vault of the night upheld above the brig by the +fierce flames fell behind him and buried the deck in sudden darkness. +The buzz of strange voices instantly hummed louder with a startled note. +“Hallo!”--“Can't see a mortal thing”--“Well, what next?”--insisted a +voice--“I want to know what next?” + +Lingard checked himself ready to open the door and waited absurdly for +the answer as though in the hope of some suggestion. “What's up with +you? Think yourself lucky,” said somebody.--“It's all very well--for +to-night,” began the voice.--“What are you fashing yourself for?” + remonstrated the other, reasonably, “we'll get home right enough.”--“I +am not so sure; the second mate he says--” “Never mind what he says; +that 'ere man who has got this brig will see us through. The owner's +wife will talk to him--she will. Money can do a lot.” The two voices +came nearer, and spoke more distinctly, close behind Lingard. “Suppose +them blooming savages set fire to the yacht. What's to prevent +them?”--“And suppose they do. This 'ere brig's good enough to get away +in. Ain't she? Guns and all. We'll get home yet all right. What do you +say, John?” + +“I say nothing and care less,” said a third voice, peaceful and faint. + +“D'you mean to say, John, you would go to the bottom as soon as you +would go home? Come now!”--“To the bottom,” repeated the wan voice, +composedly. “Aye! That's where we all are going to, in one way or +another. The way don't matter.” + +“Ough! You would give the blues to the funny man of a blooming circus. +What would my missus say if I wasn't to turn up never at all?”--“She +would get another man; there's always plenty of fools about.” A quiet +and mirthless chuckle was heard in the pause of shocked silence. +Lingard, with his hand on the door, remained still. Further off a growl +burst out: “I do hate to be chucked in the dark aboard a strange ship. +I wonder where they keep their fresh water. Can't get any sense out of +them silly niggers. We don't seem to be more account here than a lot of +cattle. Likely as not we'll have to berth on this blooming quarter-deck +for God knows how long.” Then again very near Lingard the first voice +said, deadened discreetly--“There's something curious about this here +brig turning up sudden-like, ain't there? And that skipper of her--now? +What kind of a man is he--anyhow?” + +“Oh, he's one of them skippers going about loose. The brig's his own, I +am thinking. He just goes about in her looking for what he may pick up +honest or dishonest. My brother-in-law has served two commissions in +these seas, and was telling me awful yarns about what's going on in them +God-forsaken parts. Likely he lied, though. Them man-of-war's men are +a holy terror for yarns. Bless you, what do I care who this skipper is? +Let him do his best and don't trouble your head. You won't see him again +in your life once we get clear.” + +“And can he do anything for the owner?” asked the first voice +again.--“Can he! We can do nothing--that's one thing certain. The owner +may be lying clubbed to death this very minute for all we know. By all +accounts these savages here are a crool murdering lot. Mind you, I am +sorry for him as much as anybody.”--“Aye, aye,” muttered the other, +approvingly.--“He may not have been ready, poor man,” began again the +reasonable voice. Lingard heard a deep sigh.--“If there's anything as +can be done for him, the owner's wife she's got to fix it up with this +'ere skipper. Under Providence he may serve her turn.” + +Lingard flung open the cabin door, entered, and, with a slam, shut the +darkness out. + +“I am, under Providence, to serve your turn,” he said after standing +very still for a while, with his eyes upon Mrs. Travers. The brig's +swing-lamp lighted the cabin with an extraordinary brilliance. Mrs. +Travers had thrown back her hood. The radiant brightness of the little +place enfolded her so close, clung to her with such force that it might +have been part of her very essence. There were no shadows on her face; +it was fiercely lighted, hermetically closed, of impenetrable fairness. + +Lingard looked in unconscious ecstasy at this vision, so amazing that it +seemed to have strayed into his existence from beyond the limits of +the conceivable. It was impossible to guess her thoughts, to know her +feelings, to understand her grief or her joy. But she knew all that +was at the bottom of his heart. He had told her himself, impelled by +a sudden thought, going to her in darkness, in desperation, in absurd +hope, in incredible trust. He had told her what he had told no one +on earth, except perhaps, at times, himself, but without words--less +clearly. He had told her and she had listened in silence. She had +listened leaning over the rail till at last her breath was on his +forehead. He remembered this and had a moment of soaring pride and of +unutterable dismay. He spoke, with an effort. + +“You've heard what I said just now? Here I am.” + +“Do you expect me to say something?” she asked. “Is it necessary? Is it +possible?” + +“No,” he answered. “It is said already. I know what you expect from me. +Everything.” + +“Everything,” she repeated, paused, and added much lower, “It is the +very least.” He seemed to lose himself in thought. + +“It is extraordinary,” he reflected half aloud, “how I dislike that +man.” She leaned forward a little. + +“Remember those two men are innocent,” she began. + +“So am I--innocent. So is everybody in the world. Have you ever met a +man or a woman that was not? They've got to take their chances all the +same.” + +“I expect you to be generous,” she said. + +“To you?” + +“Well--to me. Yes--if you like to me alone.” + +“To you alone! And you know everything!” His voice dropped. “You want +your happiness.” + +She made an impatient movement and he saw her clench the hand that was +lying on the table. + +“I want my husband back,” she said, sharply. + +“Yes. Yes. It's what I was saying. Same thing,” he muttered with strange +placidity. She looked at him searchingly. He had a large simplicity that +filled one's vision. She found herself slowly invaded by this masterful +figure. He was not mediocre. Whatever he might have been he was not +mediocre. The glamour of a lawless life stretched over him like the sky +over the sea down on all sides to an unbroken horizon. Within, he moved +very lonely, dangerous and romantic. There was in him crime, sacrifice, +tenderness, devotion, and the madness of a fixed idea. She thought with +wonder that of all the men in the world he was indeed the one she knew +the best and yet she could not foresee the speech or the act of the next +minute. She said distinctly: + +“You've given me your confidence. Now I want you to give me the life of +these two men. The life of two men whom you do not know, whom to-morrow +you will forget. It can be done. It must be done. You cannot refuse them +to me.” She waited. + +“Why can't I refuse?” he whispered, gloomily, without looking up. + +“You ask!” she exclaimed. He made no sign. He seemed at a loss for +words. + +“You ask . . . Ah!” she cried. “Don't you see that I have no kingdoms to +conquer?” + + + +III + +A slight change of expression which passed away almost directly showed +that Lingard heard the passionate cry wrung from her by the distress of +her mind. He made no sign. She perceived clearly the extreme difficulty +of her position. The situation was dangerous; not so much the facts +of it as the feeling of it. At times it appeared no more actual than a +tradition; and she thought of herself as of some woman in a ballad, who +has to beg for the lives of innocent captives. To save the lives of Mr. +Travers and Mr. d'Alcacer was more than a duty. It was a necessity, it +was an imperative need, it was an irresistible mission. Yet she had to +reflect upon the horrors of a cruel and obscure death before she could +feel for them the pity they deserved. It was when she looked at Lingard +that her heart was wrung by an extremity of compassion. The others were +pitiful, but he, the victim of his own extravagant impulses, appeared +tragic, fascinating, and culpable. Lingard lifted his head. Whispers +were heard at the door and Hassim followed by Immada entered the cabin. + +Mrs. Travers looked at Lingard, because of all the faces in the cabin +his was the only one that was intelligible to her. Hassim began to speak +at once, and when he ceased Immada's deep sigh was heard in the sudden +silence. Then Lingard looked at Mrs. Travers and said: + +“The gentlemen are alive. Rajah Hassim here has seen them less than two +hours ago, and so has the girl. They are alive and unharmed, so far. And +now. . . .” + +He paused. Mrs. Travers, leaning on her elbow, shaded her eyes under the +glint of suspended thunderbolts. + +“You must hate us,” she murmured. + +“Hate you,” he repeated with, as she fancied, a tinge of disdain in his +tone. “No. I hate myself.” + +“Why yourself?” she asked, very low. + +“For not knowing my mind,” he answered. “For not knowing my mind. For +not knowing what it is that's got hold of me since--since this morning. +I was angry then. . . . Nothing but very angry. . . .” + +“And now?” she murmured. + +“I am . . . unhappy,” he said. After a moment of silence which gave to +Mrs. Travers the time to wonder how it was that this man had succeeded +in penetrating into the very depths of her compassion, he hit the table +such a blow that all the heavy muskets seemed to jump a little. + +Mrs. Travers heard Hassim pronounce a few words earnestly, and a moan of +distress from Immada. + +“I believed in you before you . . . before you gave me your confidence,” + she began. “You could see that. Could you not?” + +He looked at her fixedly. “You are not the first that believed in me,” + he said. + +Hassim, lounging with his back against the closed door, kept his eye on +him watchfully and Immada's dark and sorrowful eyes rested on the face +of the white woman. Mrs. Travers felt as though she were engaged in +a contest with them; in a struggle for the possession of that man's +strength and of that man's devotion. When she looked up at Lingard she +saw on his face--which should have been impassive or exalted, the face +of a stern leader or the face of a pitiless dreamer--an expression +of utter forgetfulness. He seemed to be tasting the delight of some +profound and amazing sensation. And suddenly in the midst of her appeal +to his generosity, in the middle of a phrase, Mrs. Travers faltered, +becoming aware that she was the object of his contemplation. + +“Do not! Do not look at that woman!” cried Immada. “O! Master--look +away. . . .” Hassim threw one arm round the girl's neck. Her voice sank. +“O! Master--look at us.” Hassim, drawing her to himself, covered her +lips with his hand. She struggled a little like a snared bird and +submitted, hiding her face on his shoulder, very quiet, sobbing without +noise. + +“What do they say to you?” asked Mrs. Travers with a faint and pained +smile. “What can they say? It is intolerable to think that their words +which have no meaning for me may go straight to your heart. . . .” + +“Look away,” whispered Lingard without making the slightest movement. + +Mrs. Travers sighed. + +“Yes, it is very hard to think that I who want to touch you cannot make +myself understood as well as they. And yet I speak the language of your +childhood, the language of the man for whom there is no hope but in your +generosity.” + +He shook his head. She gazed at him anxiously for a moment. “In your +memories then,” she said and was surprised by the expression of profound +sadness that over-spread his attentive face. + +“Do you know what I remember?” he said. “Do you want to know?” She +listened with slightly parted lips. “I will tell you. Poverty, hard +work--and death,” he went on, very quietly. “And now I've told you, and +you don't know. That's how it is between us. You talk to me--I talk to +you--and we don't know.” + +Her eyelids dropped. + +“What can I find to say?” she went on. “What can I do? I mustn't +give in. Think! Amongst your memories there must be some face--some +voice--some name, if nothing more. I can not believe that there is +nothing but bitterness.” + +“There's no bitterness,” he murmured. + +“O! Brother, my heart is faint with fear,” whispered Immada. Lingard +turned swiftly to that whisper. + +“Then, they are to be saved,” exclaimed Mrs. Travers. “Ah, I knew. . . .” + +“Bear thy fear in patience,” said Hassim, rapidly, to his sister. + +“They are to be saved. You have said it,” Lingard pronounced aloud, +suddenly. He felt like a swimmer who, in the midst of superhuman efforts +to reach the shore, perceives that the undertow is taking him to sea. He +would go with the mysterious current; he would go swiftly--and see the +end, the fulfilment both blissful and terrible. + +With this state of exaltation in which he saw himself in some +incomprehensible way always victorious, whatever might befall, there was +mingled a tenacity of purpose. He could not sacrifice his intention, +the intention of years, the intention of his life; he could no more +part with it and exist than he could cut out his heart and live. The +adventurer held fast to his adventure which made him in his own sight +exactly what he was. + +He considered the problem with cool audacity, backed by a belief in +his own power. It was not these two men he had to save; he had to save +himself! And looked upon in this way the situation appeared familiar. + +Hassim had told him the two white men had been taken by their captors +to Daman's camp. The young Rajah, leaving his sister in the canoe, had +landed on the sand and had crept to the very edge of light thrown by the +fires by which the Illanuns were cooking. Daman was sitting apart by a +larger blaze. Two praus rode in shallow water near the sandbank; on the +ridge, a sentry walked watching the lights of the brig; the camp was +full of quiet whispers. Hassim returned to his canoe, then he and his +sister, paddling cautiously round the anchored praus, in which women's +voices could be heard, approached the other end of the camp. The light +of the big blaze there fell on the water and the canoe skirted it +without a splash, keeping in the night. Hassim, landing for the second +time, crept again close to the fires. Each prau had, according to the +customs of the Illanun rovers when on a raiding expedition, a smaller +war-boat and these being light and manageable were hauled up on the sand +not far from the big blaze; they sat high on the shelving shore throwing +heavy shadows. Hassim crept up toward the largest of them and then +standing on tiptoe could look at the camp across the gunwales. The +confused talking of the men was like the buzz of insects in a forest. +A child wailed on board one of the praus and a woman hailed the shore +shrilly. Hassim unsheathed his kris and held it in his hand. + +Very soon--he said--he saw the two white men walking amongst the fires. +They waved their arms and talked together, stopping from time to time; +they approached Daman; and the short man with the hair on his face +addressed him earnestly and at great length. Daman sat cross-legged upon +a little carpet with an open Koran on his knees and chanted the versets +swaying to and fro with his eyes shut. + +The Illanun chiefs reclining wrapped in cloaks on the ground raised +themselves on their elbows to look at the whites. When the short white +man finished speaking he gazed down at them for a while, then stamped +his foot. He looked angry because no one understood him. Then suddenly +he looked very sad; he covered his face with his hands; the tall man put +his hand on the short man's shoulder and whispered into his ear. The dry +wood of the fires crackled, the Illanuns slept, cooked, talked, but +with their weapons at hand. An armed man or two came up to stare at the +prisoners and then returned to their fire. The two whites sank down in +the sand in front of Daman. Their clothes were soiled, there was sand in +their hair. The tall man had lost his hat; the glass in the eye of the +short man glittered very much; his back was muddy and one sleeve of his +coat torn up to the elbow. + +All this Hassim saw and then retreated undetected to that part of +the shore where Immada waited for him, keeping the canoe afloat. The +Illanuns, trusting to the sea, kept very bad watch on their prisoners, +and had he been able to speak with them Hassim thought an escape could +have been effected. But they could not have understood his signs and +still less his words. He consulted with his sister. Immada murmured +sadly; at their feet the ripple broke with a mournful sound no louder +than their voices. + +Hassim's loyalty was unshaken, but now it led him on not in the bright +light of hopes but in the deepened shadow of doubt. He wanted to obtain +information for his friend who was so powerful and who perhaps would +know how to be constant. When followed by Immada he approached the camp +again--this time openly--their appearance did not excite much surprise. +It was well known to the Chiefs of the Illanuns that the Rajah for whom +they were to fight--if God so willed--was upon the shoals looking out +for the coming of the white man who had much wealth and a store of +weapons and who was his servant. Daman, who alone understood the exact +relation, welcomed them with impenetrable gravity. Hassim took his +seat on the carpet at his right hand. A consultation was being held +half-aloud in short and apparently careless sentences, with long +intervals of silence between. Immada, nestling close to her brother, +leaned one arm on his shoulder and listened with serious attention and +with outward calm as became a princess of Wajo accustomed to consort +with warriors and statesmen in moments of danger and in the hours of +deliberation. Her heart was beating rapidly, and facing her the silent +white men stared at these two known faces, as if across a gulf. +Four Illanun chiefs sat in a row. Their ample cloaks fell from their +shoulders, and lay behind them on the sand in which their four long +lances were planted upright, each supporting a small oblong shield of +wood, carved on the edges and stained a dull purple. Daman stretched out +his arm and pointed at the prisoners. The faces of the white men were +very quiet. Daman looked at them mutely and ardently, as if consumed by +an unspeakable longing. + +The Koran, in a silk cover, hung on his breast by a crimson cord. It +rested over his heart and, just below, the plain buffalo-horn handle of +a kris, stuck into the twist of his sarong, protruded ready to his hand. +The clouds thickening over the camp made the darkness press heavily on +the glow of scattered fires. “There is blood between me and the whites,” + he pronounced, violently. The Illanun chiefs remained impassive. There +was blood between them and all mankind. Hassim remarked dispassionately +that there was one white man with whom it would be wise to remain +friendly; and besides, was not Daman his friend already? Daman smiled +with half-closed eyes. He was that white man's friend, not his slave. +The Illanuns playing with their sword-handles grunted assent. Why, asked +Daman, did these strange whites travel so far from their country? The +great white man whom they all knew did not want them. No one wanted +them. Evil would follow in their footsteps. They were such men as are +sent by rulers to examine the aspects of far-off countries and talk of +peace and make treaties. Such is the beginning of great sorrows. The +Illanuns were far from their country, where no white man dared to come, +and therefore they were free to seek their enemies upon the open waters. +They had found these two who had come to see. He asked what they had +come to see? Was there nothing to look at in their own country? + +He talked in an ironic and subdued tone. The scattered heaps of embers +glowed a deeper red; the big blaze of the chief's fire sank low and +grew dim before he ceased. Straight-limbed figures rose, sank, moved, +whispered on the beach. Here and there a spear-blade caught a red gleam +above the black shape of a head. + +“The Illanuns seek booty on the sea,” cried Daman. “Their fathers and +the fathers of their fathers have done the same, being fearless like +those who embrace death closely.” + +A low laugh was heard. “We strike and go,” said an exulting voice. “We +live and die with our weapons in our hands.” The Illanuns leaped to +their feet. They stamped on the sand, flourishing naked blades over the +heads of their prisoners. A tumult arose. + +When it subsided Daman stood up in a cloak that wrapped him to his feet +and spoke again giving advice. + +The white men sat on the sand and turned their eyes from face to face +as if trying to understand. It was agreed to send the prisoners into the +lagoon where their fate would be decided by the ruler of the land. The +Illanuns only wanted to plunder the ship. They did not care what became +of the men. “But Daman cares,” remarked Hassim to Lingard, when relating +what took place. “He cares, O Tuan!” + +Hassim had learned also that the Settlement was in a state of unrest +as if on the eve of war. Belarab with his followers was encamped by his +father's tomb in the hollow beyond the cultivated fields. His stockade +was shut up and no one appeared on the verandahs of the houses within. +You could tell there were people inside only by the smoke of the cooking +fires. Tengga's followers meantime swaggered about the Settlement +behaving tyrannically to those who were peaceable. A great madness had +descended upon the people, a madness strong as the madness of love, the +madness of battle, the desire to spill blood. A strange fear also had +made them wild. The big smoke seen that morning above the forests of +the coast was some agreed signal from Tengga to Daman but what it meant +Hassim had been unable to find out. He feared for Jorgenson's safety. +He said that while one of the war-boats was being made ready to take the +captives into the lagoon, he and his sister left the camp quietly and +got away in their canoe. The flares of the brig, reflected in a faint +loom upon the clouds, enabled them to make straight for the vessel +across the banks. Before they had gone half way these flames went out +and the darkness seemed denser than any he had known before. But it was +no greater than the darkness of his mind--he added. He had looked upon +the white men sitting unmoved and silent under the edge of swords; he +had looked at Daman, he had heard bitter words spoken; he was looking +now at his white friend--and the issue of events he could not see. One +can see men's faces but their fate, which is written on their foreheads, +one cannot see. He had no more to say, and what he had spoken was true +in every word. + + + +IV + +Lingard repeated it all to Mrs. Travers. Her courage, her intelligence, +the quickness of her apprehension, the colour of her eyes and the +intrepidity of her glance evoked in him an admiring enthusiasm. She +stood by his side! Every moment that fatal illusion clung closer to his +soul--like a garment of light--like an armour of fire. + +He was unwilling to face the facts. All his life--till that day--had +been a wrestle with events in the daylight of this world, but now he +could not bring his mind to the consideration of his position. It +was Mrs. Travers who, after waiting awhile, forced on him the pain +of thought by wanting to know what bearing Hassim's news had upon the +situation. + +Lingard had not the slightest doubt Daman wanted him to know what had +been done with the prisoners. That is why Daman had welcomed Hassim, and +let him hear the decision and had allowed him to leave the camp on the +sandbank. There could be only one object in this; to let him, Lingard, +know that the prisoners had been put out of his reach as long as he +remained in his brig. Now this brig was his strength. To make him leave +his brig was like removing his hand from his sword. + +“Do you understand what I mean, Mrs. Travers?” he asked. “They are +afraid of me because I know how to fight this brig. They fear the +brig because when I am on board her, the brig and I are one. An armed +man--don't you see? Without the brig I am disarmed, without me she can't +strike. So Daman thinks. He does not know everything but he is not far +off the truth. He says to himself that if I man the boats to go after +these whites into the lagoon then his Illanuns will get the yacht for +sure--and perhaps the brig as well. If I stop here with my brig he holds +the two white men and can talk as big as he pleases. Belarab believes in +me no doubt, but Daman trusts no man on earth. He simply does not know +how to trust any one, because he is always plotting himself. He came to +help me and as soon as he found I was not there he began to plot with +Tengga. Now he has made a move--a clever move; a cleverer move than he +thinks. Why? I'll tell you why. Because I, Tom Lingard, haven't a single +white man aboard this brig I can trust. Not one. I only just discovered +my mate's got the notion I am some kind of pirate. And all your yacht +people think the same. It is as though you had brought a curse on me +in your yacht. Nobody believes me. Good God! What have I come to! Even +those two--look at them--I say look at them! By all the stars they doubt +me! Me! . . .” + +He pointed at Hassim and Immada. The girl seemed frightened. Hassim +looked on calm and intelligent with inexhaustible patience. Lingard's +voice fell suddenly. + +“And by heavens they may be right. Who knows? You? Do you know? They +have waited for years. Look. They are waiting with heavy hearts. Do you +think that I don't care? Ought I to have kept it all in--told no one--no +one--not even you? Are they waiting for what will never come now?” + +Mrs. Travers rose and moved quickly round the table. “Can we give +anything to this--this Daman or these other men? We could give them more +than they could think of asking. I--my husband. . . .” + +“Don't talk to me of your husband,” he said, roughly. “You don't know +what you are doing.” She confronted the sombre anger of his eyes--“But I +must,” she asserted with heat.--“Must,” he mused, noticing that she was +only half a head less tall than himself. “Must! Oh, yes. Of course, you +must. Must! Yes. But I don't want to hear. Give! What can you give? You +may have all the treasures of the world for all I know. No! You can't +give anything. . . .” + +“I was thinking of your difficulty when I spoke,” she interrupted. His +eyes wandered downward following the line of her shoulder.--“Of me--of +me!” he repeated. + +All this was said almost in whispers. The sound of slow footsteps was +heard on deck above their heads. Lingard turned his face to the open +skylight. + +“On deck there! Any wind?” + +All was still for a moment. Somebody above answered in a leisurely tone: + +“A steady little draught from the northward.” + +Then after a pause added in a mutter: + +“Pitch dark.” + +“Aye, dark enough,” murmured Lingard. He must do something. Now. At +once. The world was waiting. The world full of hopes and fear. +What should he do? Instead of answering that question he traced the +ungleaming coils of her twisted hair and became fascinated by a stray +lock at her neck. What should he do? No one to leave his brig to. The +voice that had answered his question was Carter's voice. “He is hanging +about keeping his eye on me,” he said to Mrs. Travers. She shook her +head and tried to smile. The man above coughed discreetly. “No,” said +Lingard, “you must understand that you have nothing to give.” + +The man on deck who seemed to have lingered by the skylight was heard +saying quietly, “I am at hand if you want me, Mrs. Travers.” Hassim and +Immada looked up. “You see,” exclaimed Lingard. “What did I tell you? +He's keeping his eye on me! On board my own ship. Am I dreaming? Am I in +a fever? Tell him to come down,” he said after a pause. Mrs. Travers +did so and Lingard thought her voice very commanding and very sweet. +“There's nothing in the world I love so much as this brig,” he went on. +“Nothing in the world. If I lost her I would have no standing room on +the earth for my feet. You don't understand this. You can't.” + +Carter came in and shut the cabin door carefully. He looked with +serenity at everyone in turn. + +“All quiet?” asked Lingard. + +“Quiet enough if you like to call it so,” he answered. “But if you only +put your head outside the door you'll hear them all on the quarter-deck +snoring against each other, as if there were no wives at home and no +pirates at sea.” + +“Look here,” said Lingard. “I found out that I can't trust my mate.” + +“Can't you?” drawled Carter. “I am not exactly surprised. I must say +_he_ does not snore but I believe it is because he is too crazy to +sleep. He waylaid me on the poop just now and said something about evil +communications corrupting good manners. Seems to me I've heard that +before. Queer thing to say. He tried to make it out somehow that if he +wasn't corrupt it wasn't your fault. As if this was any concern of mine. +He's as mad as he's fat--or else he puts it on.” Carter laughed a little +and leaned his shoulders against a bulkhead. + +Lingard gazed at the woman who expected so much from him and in the +light she seemed to shed he saw himself leading a column of armed boats +to the attack of the Settlement. He could burn the whole place to the +ground and drive every soul of them into the bush. He could! And +there was a surprise, a shock, a vague horror at the thought of the +destructive power of his will. He could give her ever so many lives. He +had seen her yesterday, and it seemed to him he had been all his life +waiting for her to make a sign. She was very still. He pondered a plan +of attack. He saw smoke and flame--and next moment he saw himself alone +amongst shapeless ruins with the whispers, with the sigh and moan of the +Shallows in his ears. He shuddered, and shaking his hand: + +“No! I cannot give you all those lives!” he cried. + +Then, before Mrs. Travers could guess the meaning of this outburst, he +declared that as the two captives must be saved he would go alone into +the lagoon. He could not think of using force. “You understand why,” he +said to Mrs. Travers and she whispered a faint “Yes.” He would run the +risk alone. His hope was in Belarab being able to see where his true +interest lay. “If I can only get at him I would soon make him see,” he +mused aloud. “Haven't I kept his power up for these two years past? And +he knows it, too. He feels it.” Whether he would be allowed to reach +Belarab was another matter. Lingard lost himself in deep thought. “He +would not dare,” he burst out. Mrs. Travers listened with parted lips. +Carter did not move a muscle of his youthful and self-possessed face; +only when Lingard, turning suddenly, came up close to him and asked with +a red flash of eyes and in a lowered voice, “Could you fight this brig?” + something like a smile made a stir amongst the hairs of his little fair +moustache. + +“'Could I?” he said. “I could try, anyhow.” He paused, and added hardly +above his breath, “For the lady--of course.” + +Lingard seemed staggered as though he had been hit in the chest. “I was +thinking of the brig,” he said, gently. + +“Mrs. Travers would be on board,” retorted Carter. + +“What! on board. Ah yes; on board. Where else?” stammered Lingard. + +Carter looked at him in amazement. “Fight! You ask!” he said, slowly. +“You just try me.” + +“I shall,” ejaculated Lingard. He left the cabin calling out “serang!” A +thin cracked voice was heard immediately answering, “Tuan!” and the door +slammed to. + +“You trust him, Mrs. Travers?” asked Carter, rapidly. + +“You do not--why?” she answered. + +“I can't make him out. If he was another kind of man I would say he was +drunk,” said Carter. “Why is he here at all--he, and this brig of his? +Excuse my boldness--but have you promised him anything?” + +“I--I promised!” exclaimed Mrs. Travers in a bitter tone which silenced +Carter for a moment. + +“So much the better,” he said at last. “Let him show what he can do +first and . . .” + +“Here! Take this,” said Lingard, who re-entered the cabin fumbling about +his neck. Carter mechanically extended his hand. + +“What's this for?” he asked, looking at a small brass key attached to a +thin chain. + +“Powder magazine. Trap door under the table. The man who has this key +commands the brig while I am away. The serang understands. You have her +very life in your hand there.” + +Carter looked at the small key lying in his half-open palm. + +“I was just telling Mrs. Travers I didn't trust you--not +altogether. . . .” + +“I know all about it,” interrupted Lingard, contemptuously. “You carry +a blamed pistol in your pocket to blow my brains out--don't you? What's +that to me? I am thinking of the brig. I think I know your sort. You +will do.” + +“Well, perhaps I might,” mumbled Carter, modestly. + +“Don't be rash,” said Lingard, anxiously. “If you've got to fight use +your head as well as your hands. If there's a breeze fight under way. If +they should try to board in a calm, trust to the small arms to hold them +off. Keep your head and--” He looked intensely into Carter's eyes; his +lips worked without a sound as though he had been suddenly struck dumb. +“Don't think about me. What's that to you who I am? Think of the ship,” + he burst out. “Don't let her go!--Don't let her go!” The passion in his +voice impressed his hearers who for a time preserved a profound silence. + +“All right,” said Carter at last. “I will stick to your brig as though +she were my own; but I would like to see clear through all this. Look +here--you are going off somewhere? Alone, you said?” + +“Yes. Alone.” + +“Very well. Mind, then, that you don't come back with a crowd of those +brown friends of yours--or by the Heavens above us I won't let you come +within hail of your own ship. Am I to keep this key?” + +“Captain Lingard,” said Mrs. Travers suddenly. “Would it not be better +to tell him everything?” + +“Tell him everything?” repeated Lingard. “Everything! Yesterday it might +have been done. Only yesterday! Yesterday, did I say? Only six hours +ago--only six hours ago I had something to tell. You heard it. And now +it's gone. Tell him! There's nothing to tell any more.” He remained for +a time with bowed head, while before him Mrs. Travers, who had begun a +gesture of protest, dropped her arms suddenly. In a moment he looked up +again. + +“Keep the key,” he said, calmly, “and when the time comes step forward +and take charge. I am satisfied.” + +“I would like to see clear through all this though,” muttered Carter +again. “And for how long are you leaving us, Captain?” Lingard made no +answer. Carter waited awhile. “Come, sir,” he urged. “I ought to have +some notion. What is it? Two, three days?” Lingard started. + +“Days,” he repeated. “Ah, days. What is it you want to know? Two . . . +three--what did the old fellow say--perhaps for life.” This was spoken +so low that no one but Carter heard the last words.--“Do you mean it?” + he murmured. Lingard nodded.--“Wait as long as you can--then go,” he +said in the same hardly audible voice. “Go where?”--“Where you like, +nearest port, any port.”--“Very good. That's something plain at any +rate,” commented the young man with imperturbable good humour. + +“I go, O Hassim!” began Lingard and the Malay made a slow inclination of +the head which he did not raise again till Lingard had ceased speaking. +He betrayed neither surprise nor any other emotion while Lingard in a +few concise and sharp sentences made him acquainted with his purpose to +bring about singlehanded the release of the prisoners. When Lingard had +ended with the words: “And you must find a way to help me in the time of +trouble, O Rajah Hassim,” he looked up and said: + +“Good. You never asked me for anything before.” + +He smiled at his white friend. There was something subtle in the smile +and afterward an added firmness in the repose of the lips. Immada moved +a step forward. She looked at Lingard with terror in her black and +dilated eyes. She exclaimed in a voice whose vibration startled the +hearts of all the hearers with an indefinable sense of alarm, “He will +perish, Hassim! He will perish alone!” + +“No,” said Hassim. “Thy fear is as vain to-night as it was at sunrise. +He shall not perish alone.” + +Her eyelids dropped slowly. From her veiled eyes the tears fell, +vanishing in the silence. Lingard's forehead became furrowed by folds +that seemed to contain an infinity of sombre thoughts. “Remember, O +Hassim, that when I promised you to take you back to your country you +promised me to be a friend to all white men. A friend to all whites who +are of my people, forever.” + +“My memory is good, O Tuan,” said Hassim; “I am not yet back in my +country, but is not everyone the ruler of his own heart? Promises made +by a man of noble birth live as long as the speaker endures.” + +“Good-bye,” said Lingard to Mrs. Travers. “You will be safe here.” He +looked all around the cabin. “I leave you,” he began again and stopped +short. Mrs. Travers' hand, resting lightly on the edge of the table, +began to tremble. “It's for you . . . Yes. For you alone . . . and it +seems it can't be. . . .” + +It seemed to him that he was saying good-bye to all the world, that +he was taking a last leave of his own self. Mrs. Travers did not say a +word, but Immada threw herself between them and cried: + +“You are a cruel woman! You are driving him away from where his strength +is. You put madness into his heart, O! Blind--without pity--without +shame! . . .” + +“Immada,” said Hassim's calm voice. Nobody moved. + +“What did she say to me?” faltered Mrs. Travers and again repeated in a +voice that sounded hard, “What did she say?” + +“Forgive her,” said Lingard. “Her fears are for me . . .”--“It's about +your going?” Mrs. Travers interrupted, swiftly. + +“Yes, it is--and you must forgive her.” He had turned away his eyes with +something that resembled embarrassment but suddenly he was assailed by +an irresistible longing to look again at that woman. At the moment of +parting he clung to her with his glance as a man holds with his hands +a priceless and disputed possession. The faint blush that overspread +gradually Mrs. Travers' features gave her face an air of extraordinary +and startling animation. + +“The danger you run?” she asked, eagerly. He repelled the suggestion by +a slighting gesture of the hand.--“Nothing worth looking at twice. Don't +give it a thought,” he said. “I've been in tighter places.” He clapped +his hands and waited till he heard the cabin door open behind his back. +“Steward, my pistols.” The mulatto in slippers, aproned to the chin, +glided through the cabin with unseeing eyes as though for him no one +there had existed. . . .--“Is it my heart that aches so?” Mrs. Travers +asked herself, contemplating Lingard's motionless figure. “How long will +this sensation of dull pain last? Will it last forever. . . .”--“How +many changes of clothes shall I put up, sir?” asked the steward, while +Lingard took the pistols from him and eased the hammers after putting +on fresh caps.--“I will take nothing this time, steward.” He received in +turn from the mulatto's hands a red silk handkerchief, a pocket book, a +cigar-case. He knotted the handkerchief loosely round his throat; it +was evident he was going through the routine of every departure for +the shore; he even opened the cigar-case to see whether it had been +filled.--“Hat, sir,” murmured the half-caste. Lingard flung it on his +head.--“Take your orders from this lady, steward--till I come back. The +cabin is hers--do you hear?” He sighed ready to go and seemed unable to +lift a foot.--“I am coming with you,” declared Mrs. Travers suddenly in +a tone of unalterable decision. He did not look at her; he did not even +look up; he said nothing, till after Carter had cried: “You can't, Mrs. +Travers!”--when without budging he whispered to himself:--“Of course.” + Mrs. Travers had pulled already the hood of her cloak over her head +and her face within the dark cloth had turned an intense and unearthly +white, in which the violet of her eyes appeared unfathomably mysterious. +Carter started forward.--“You don't know this man,” he almost shouted. + +“I do know him,” she said, and before the reproachfully unbelieving +attitude of the other she added, speaking slowly and with emphasis: +“There is not, I verily believe, a single thought or act of his life +that I don't know.”--“It's true--it's true,” muttered Lingard to +himself. Carter threw up his arms with a groan. “Stand back,” said a +voice that sounded to him like a growl of thunder, and he felt a grip +on his hand which seemed to crush every bone. He jerked it away.--“Mrs. +Travers! stay,” he cried. They had vanished through the open door and +the sound of their footsteps had already died away. Carter turned about +bewildered as if looking for help.--“Who is he, steward? Who in the name +of all the mad devils is he?” he asked, wildly. He was confounded by the +cold and philosophical tone of the answer:--“'Tain't my place to trouble +about that, sir--nor yours I guess.”--“Isn't it!” shouted Carter. “Why, +he has carried the lady off.” The steward was looking critically at +the lamp and after a while screwed the light down.--“That's better,” he +mumbled.--“Good God! What is a fellow to do?” continued Carter, looking +at Hassim and Immada who were whispering together and gave him only an +absent glance. He rushed on deck and was struck blind instantly by the +night that seemed to have been lying in wait for him; he stumbled over +something soft, kicked something hard, flung himself on the rail. “Come +back,” he cried. “Come back. Captain! Mrs. Travers!--or let me come, +too.” + +He listened. The breeze blew cool against his cheek. A black bandage +seemed to lie over his eyes. “Gone,” he groaned, utterly crushed. +And suddenly he heard Mrs. Travers' voice remote in the depths of +the night.--“Defend the brig,” it said, and these words, pronouncing +themselves in the immensity of a lightless universe, thrilled every +fibre of his body by the commanding sadness of their tone. “Defend, +defend the brig.” . . . “I am damned if I do,” shouted Carter in +despair. “Unless you come back! . . . Mrs. Travers!” + +“. . . as though--I were--on board--myself,” went on the rising +cadence of the voice, more distant now, a marvel of faint and imperious +clearness. + +Carter shouted no more; he tried to make out the boat for a time, and +when, giving it up, he leaped down from the rail, the heavy obscurity +of the brig's main deck was agitated like a sombre pool by his jump, +swayed, eddied, seemed to break up. Blotches of darkness recoiled, +drifted away, bare feet shuffled hastily, confused murmurs died out. +“Lascars,” he muttered, “The crew is all agog.” Afterward he listened +for a moment to the faintly tumultuous snores of the white men sleeping +in rows, with their heads under the break of the poop. Somewhere +about his feet, the yacht's black dog, invisible, and chained to a +deck-ringbolt, whined, rattled the thin links, pattered with his claws +in his distress at the unfamiliar surroundings, begging for the charity +of human notice. Carter stooped impulsively, and was met by a startling +lick in the face.--“Hallo, boy!” He thumped the thick curly sides, +stroked the smooth head--“Good boy, Rover. Down. Lie down, dog. You +don't know what to make of it--do you, boy?” The dog became still as +death. “Well, neither do I,” muttered Carter. But such natures are +helped by a cheerful contempt for the intricate and endless suggestions +of thought. He told himself that he would soon see what was to come of +it, and dismissed all speculation. Had he been a little older he would +have felt that the situation was beyond his grasp; but he was too +young to see it whole and in a manner detached from himself. All these +inexplicable events filled him with deep concern--but then on the other +hand he had the key of the magazine and he could not find it in his +heart to dislike Lingard. He was positive about this at last, and to +know that much after the discomfort of an inward conflict went a long +way toward a solution. When he followed Shaw into the cabin he could not +repress a sense of enjoyment or hide a faint and malicious smile. + +“Gone away--did you say? And carried off the lady with him?” discoursed +Shaw very loud in the doorway. “Did he? Well, I am not surprised. What +can you expect from a man like that, who leaves his ship in an open +roadstead without--I won't say orders--but without as much as a single +word to his next in command? And at night at that! That just shows you +the kind of man. Is this the way to treat a chief mate? I apprehend he +was riled at the little al-ter-cation we had just before you came on +board. I told him a truth or two--but--never mind. There's the law and +that's enough for me. I am captain as long as he is out of the ship, and +if his address before very long is not in one of Her Majesty's jails or +other I au-tho-rize you to call me a Dutchman. You mark my words.” + +He walked in masterfully, sat down and surveyed the cabin in a leisurely +and autocratic manner; but suddenly his eyes became stony with amazement +and indignation; he pointed a fat and trembling forefinger. + +“Niggers,” he said, huskily. “In the cuddy! In the cuddy!” He appeared +bereft of speech for a time. + +Since he entered the cabin Hassim had been watching him in thoughtful +and expectant silence. “I can't have it,” he continued with genuine +feeling in his voice. “Damme! I've too much respect for myself.” He rose +with heavy deliberation; his eyes bulged out in a severe and +dignified stare. “Out you go!” he bellowed; suddenly, making a step +forward.--“Great Scott! What are you up to, mister?” asked in a tone of +dispassionate surprise the steward whose head appeared in the doorway. +“These are the Captain's friends.” “Show me a man's friends and . . .” + began Shaw, dogmatically, but abruptly passed into the tone of +admonition. “You take your mug out of the way, bottle-washer. They ain't +friends of mine. I ain't a vagabond. I know what's due to myself. Quit!” + he hissed, fiercely. Hassim, with an alert movement, grasped the handle +of his kris. Shaw puffed out his cheeks and frowned.--“Look out! He +will stick you like a prize pig,” murmured Carter without moving +a muscle. Shaw looked round helplessly.--“And you would enjoy the +fun--wouldn't you?” he said with slow bitterness. Carter's distant +non-committal smile quite overwhelmed him by its horrid frigidity. +Extreme despondency replaced the proper feeling of racial pride in the +primitive soul of the mate. “My God! What luck! What have I done to fall +amongst that lot?” he groaned, sat down, and took his big grey head in +his hands. Carter drew aside to make room for Immada, who, in obedience +to a whisper from her brother, sought to leave the cabin. She passed +out after an instant of hesitation, during which she looked up at Carter +once. Her brother, motionless in a defensive attitude, protected her +retreat. She disappeared; Hassim's grip on his weapon relaxed; he looked +in turn at every object in the cabin as if to fix its position in +his mind forever, and following his sister, walked out with noiseless +footfalls. + +They entered the same darkness which had received, enveloped, and hidden +the troubled souls of Lingard and Edith, but to these two the light from +which they had felt themselves driven away was now like the light of +forbidden hopes; it had the awful and tranquil brightness that a light +burning on the shore has for an exhausted swimmer about to give himself +up to the fateful sea. They looked back; it had disappeared; Carter had +shut the cabin door behind them to have it out with Shaw. He wanted to +arrive at some kind of working compromise with the nominal commander, +but the mate was so demoralized by the novelty of the assaults made upon +his respectability that the young defender of the brig could get nothing +from him except lamentations mingled with mild blasphemies. The brig +slept, and along her quiet deck the voices raised in her cabin--Shaw's +appeals and reproaches directed vociferously to heaven, together with +Carter's inflexible drawl mingled into one deadened, modulated, and +continuous murmur. The lockouts in the waist, motionless and peering +into obscurity, one ear turned to the sea, were aware of that strange +resonance like the ghost of a quarrel that seemed to hover at their +backs. Wasub, after seeing Hassim and Immada into their canoe, prowled +to and fro the whole length of the vessel vigilantly. There was not +a star in the sky and no gleam on the water; there was no horizon, no +outline, no shape for the eye to rest upon, nothing for the hand to +grasp. An obscurity that seemed without limit in space and time had +submerged the universe like a destroying flood. + +A lull of the breeze kept for a time the small boat in the neighbourhood +of the brig. The hoisted sail, invisible, fluttered faintly, +mysteriously, and the boat rising and falling bodily to the passage of +each invisible undulation of the waters seemed to repose upon a living +breast. Lingard, his hand on the tiller, sat up erect, expectant and +silent. Mrs. Travers had drawn her cloak close around her body. Their +glances plunged infinitely deep into a lightless void, and yet they were +still so near the brig that the piteous whine of the dog, mingled with +the angry rattling of the chain, reached their ears faintly, evoking +obscure images of distress and fury. A sharp bark ending in a plaintive +howl that seemed raised by the passage of phantoms invisible to men, +rent the black stillness, as though the instinct of the brute inspired +by the soul of night had voiced in a lamentable plaint the fear of the +future, the anguish of lurking death, the terror of shadows. Not far +from the brig's boat Hassim and Immada in their canoe, letting their +paddles trail in the water, sat in a silent and invincible torpor as +if the fitful puffs of wind had carried to their hearts the breath of a +subtle poison that, very soon, would make them die.--“Have you seen +the white woman's eyes?” cried the girl. She struck her palms together +loudly and remained with her arms extended, with her hands clasped. “O +Hassim! Have you seen her eyes shining under her eyebrows like rays of +light darting under the arched boughs in a forest? They pierced me. I +shuddered at the sound of her voice! I saw her walk behind him--and +it seems to me that she does not live on earth--that all this is +witchcraft.” + +She lamented in the night. Hassim kept silent. He had no illusions and +in any other man but Lingard he would have thought the proceeding no +better than suicidal folly. For him Travers and d'Alcacer were two +powerful Rajahs--probably relatives of the Ruler of the land of the +English whom he knew to be a woman; but why they should come and +interfere with the recovery of his own kingdom was an obscure problem. +He was concerned for Lingard's safety. That the risk was incurred mostly +for his sake--so that the prospects of the great enterprise should not +be ruined by a quarrel over the lives of these whites--did not strike +him so much as may be imagined. There was that in him which made such +an action on Lingard's part appear all but unavoidable. Was he not Rajah +Hassim and was not the other a man of strong heart, of strong arm, of +proud courage, a man great enough to protect highborn princes--a friend? +Immada's words called out a smile which, like the words, was lost in the +darkness. “Forget your weariness,” he said, gently, “lest, O Sister, we +should arrive too late.” The coming day would throw its light on some +decisive event. Hassim thought of his own men who guarded the Emma and +he wished to be where they could hear his voice. He regretted Jaffir was +not there. Hassim was saddened by the absence from his side of that man +who once had carried what he thought would be his last message to his +friend. It had not been the last. He had lived to cherish new hopes and +to face new troubles and, perchance, to frame another message yet, while +death knocked with the hands of armed enemies at the gate. The breeze +steadied; the succeeding swells swung the canoe smoothly up the unbroken +ridges of water travelling apace along the land. They progressed slowly; +but Immada's heart was more weary than her arms, and Hassim, dipping the +blade of his paddle without a splash, peered right and left, trying to +make out the shadowy forms of islets. A long way ahead of the canoe and +holding the same course, the brig's dinghy ran with broad lug extended, +making for that narrow and winding passage between the coast and the +southern shoals, which led to the mouth of the creek connecting the +lagoon with the sea. + +Thus on that starless night the Shallows were peopled by uneasy souls. +The thick veil of clouds stretched over them, cut them off from the +rest of the universe. At times Mrs. Travers had in the darkness the +impression of dizzy speed, and again it seemed to her that the boat was +standing still, that everything in the world was standing still and only +her fancy roamed free from all trammels. Lingard, perfectly motionless +by her side, steered, shaping his course by the feel of the wind. +Presently he perceived ahead a ghostly flicker of faint, livid light +which the earth seemed to throw up against the uniform blackness of +the sky. The dinghy was approaching the expanse of the Shallows. The +confused clamour of broken water deepened its note. + +“How long are we going to sail like this?” asked Mrs. Travers, gently. +She did not recognize the voice that pronounced the word “Always” in +answer to her question. It had the impersonal ring of a voice without a +master. Her heart beat fast. + +“Captain Lingard!” she cried. + +“Yes. What?” he said, nervously, as if startled out of a dream. + +“I asked you how long we were going to sail like this,” she repeated, +distinctly. + +“If the breeze holds we shall be in the lagoon soon after daybreak. That +will be the right time, too. I shall leave you on board the hulk with +Jorgenson.” + +“And you? What will you do?” she asked. She had to wait for a while. + +“I will do what I can,” she heard him say at last. There was another +pause. “All I can,” he added. + +The breeze dropped, the sail fluttered. + +“I have perfect confidence in you,” she said. “But are you certain of +success?” + +“No.” + +The futility of her question came home to Mrs. Travers. In a few hours +of life she had been torn away from all her certitudes, flung into +a world of improbabilities. This thought instead of augmenting her +distress seemed to soothe her. What she experienced was not doubt and +it was not fear. It was something else. It might have been only a great +fatigue. + +She heard a dull detonation as if in the depth of the sea. It was hardly +more than a shock and a vibration. A roller had broken amongst the +shoals; the livid clearness Lingard had seen ahead flashed and flickered +in expanded white sheets much nearer to the boat now. And all this--the +wan burst of light, the faint shock as of something remote and immense +falling into ruins, was taking place outside the limits of her +life which remained encircled by an impenetrable darkness and by an +impenetrable silence. Puffs of wind blew about her head and expired; +the sail collapsed, shivered audibly, stood full and still in turn; +and again the sensation of vertiginous speed and of absolute immobility +succeeding each other with increasing swiftness merged at last into +a bizarre state of headlong motion and profound peace. The darkness +enfolded her like the enervating caress of a sombre universe. It was +gentle and destructive. Its languor seduced her soul into surrender. +Nothing existed and even all her memories vanished into space. She was +content that nothing should exist. + +Lingard, aware all the time of their contact in the narrow stern sheets +of the boat, was startled by the pressure of the woman's head drooping +on his shoulder. He stiffened himself still more as though he had +tried on the approach of a danger to conceal his life in the breathless +rigidity of his body. The boat soared and descended slowly; a region +of foam and reefs stretched across her course hissing like a gigantic +cauldron; a strong gust of wind drove her straight at it for a moment +then passed on and abandoned her to the regular balancing of the swell. +The struggle of the rocks forever overwhelmed and emerging, with the sea +forever victorious and repulsed, fascinated the man. He watched it as he +would have watched something going on within himself while Mrs. Travers +slept sustained by his arm, pressed to his side, abandoned to his +support. The shoals guarding the Shore of Refuge had given him his first +glimpse of success--the solid support he needed for his action. The +Shallows were the shelter of his dreams; their voice had the power to +soothe and exalt his thoughts with the promise of freedom for his hopes. +Never had there been such a generous friendship. . . . A mass of white +foam whirling about a centre of intense blackness spun silently past the +side of the boat. . . . That woman he held like a captive on his arm had +also been given to him by the Shallows. + +Suddenly his eyes caught on a distant sandbank the red gleam of Daman's +camp fire instantly eclipsed like the wink of a signalling lantern along +the level of the waters. It brought to his mind the existence of the two +men--those other captives. If the war canoe transporting them into the +lagoon had left the sands shortly after Hassim's retreat from Daman's +camp, Travers and d'Alcacer were by this time far away up the creek. +Every thought of action had become odious to Lingard since all he could +do in the world now was to hasten the moment of his separation from that +woman to whom he had confessed the whole secret of his life. + +And she slept. She could sleep! He looked down at her as he would have +looked at the slumbering ignorance of a child, but the life within him +had the fierce beat of supreme moments. Near by, the eddies sighed along +the reefs, the water soughed amongst the stones, clung round the rocks +with tragic murmurs that resembled promises, good-byes, or prayers. From +the unfathomable distances of the night came the booming of the swell +assaulting the seaward face of the Shallows. He felt the woman's +nearness with such intensity that he heard nothing. . . . Then suddenly +he thought of death. + +“Wake up!” he shouted in her ear, swinging round in his seat. Mrs. +Travers gasped; a splash of water flicked her over the eyes and she felt +the separate drops run down her cheeks, she tasted them on her lips, +tepid and bitter like tears. A swishing undulation tossed the boat on +high followed by another and still another; and then the boat with the +breeze abeam glided through still water, laying over at a steady angle. + +“Clear of the reef now,” remarked Lingard in a tone of relief. + +“Were we in any danger?” asked Mrs. Travers in a whisper. + +“Well, the breeze dropped and we drifted in very close to the rocks,” he +answered. “I had to rouse you. It wouldn't have done for you to wake up +suddenly struggling in the water.” + +So she had slept! It seemed to her incredible that she should have +closed her eyes in this small boat, with the knowledge of their +desperate errand, on so disturbed a sea. The man by her side leaned +forward, extended his arm, and the boat going off before the wind went +on faster on an even keel. A motionless black bank resting on the sea +stretched infinitely right in their way in ominous stillness. She called +Lingard's attention to it. “Look at this awful cloud.” + +“This cloud is the coast and in a moment we shall be entering the +creek,” he said, quietly. Mrs. Travers stared at it. Was it land--land! +It seemed to her even less palpable than a cloud, a mere sinister +immobility above the unrest of the sea, nursing in its depth the unrest +of men who, to her mind, were no more real than fantastic shadows. + + + +V + +What struck Mrs. Travers most, directly she set eyes on him, was the +other-world aspect of Jorgenson. He had been buried out of sight so long +that his tall, gaunt body, his unhurried, mechanical movements, his +set face and his eyes with an empty gaze suggested an invincible +indifference to all the possible surprises of the earth. That appearance +of a resuscitated man who seemed to be commanded by a conjuring spell +strolled along the decks of what was even to Mrs. Travers' eyes the mere +corpse of a ship and turned on her a pair of deep-sunk, expressionless +eyes with an almost unearthly detachment. Mrs. Travers had never been +looked at before with that strange and pregnant abstraction. Yet she +didn't dislike Jorgenson. In the early morning light, white from head to +foot in a perfectly clean suit of clothes which seemed hardly to contain +any limbs, freshly shaven (Jorgenson's sunken cheeks with their withered +colouring always had a sort of gloss as though he had the habit of +shaving every two hours or so), he looked as immaculate as though he +had been indeed a pure spirit superior to the soiling contacts of the +material earth. He was disturbing but he was not repulsive. He gave no +sign of greeting. + +Lingard addressed him at once. + +“You have had a regular staircase built up the side of the hulk, +Jorgenson,” he said. “It was very convenient for us to come aboard now, +but in case of an attack don't you think . . .” + +“I did think.” There was nothing so dispassionate in the world as the +voice of Captain H. C. Jorgenson, ex Barque Wild Rose, since he had +recrossed the Waters of Oblivion to step back into the life of men. “I +did think, but since I don't want to make trouble. . . .” + +“Oh, you don't want to make trouble,” interrupted Lingard. + +“No. Don't believe in it. Do you, King Tom?” + +“I may have to make trouble.” + +“So you came up here in this small dinghy of yours like this to start +making trouble, did you?” + +“What's the matter with you? Don't you know me yet, Jorgenson?” + +“I thought I knew you. How could I tell that a man like you would come +along for a fight bringing a woman with him?” + +“This lady is Mrs. Travers,” said Lingard. “The wife of one of the +luckless gentlemen Daman got hold of last evening. . . . This is +Jorgenson, the friend of whom I have been telling you, Mrs. Travers.” + +Mrs. Travers smiled faintly. Her eyes roamed far and near and the +strangeness of her surroundings, the overpowering curiosity, the +conflict of interest and doubt gave her the aspect of one still new to +life, presenting an innocent and naive attitude before the surprises +of experience. She looked very guileless and youthful between those two +men. Lingard gazed at her with that unconscious tenderness mingled with +wonder, which some men manifest toward girlhood. There was nothing of +a conqueror of kingdoms in his bearing. Jorgenson preserved his +amazing abstraction which seemed neither to hear nor see anything. But, +evidently, he kept a mysterious grip on events in the world of living +men because he asked very naturally: + +“How did she get away?” + +“The lady wasn't on the sandbank,” explained Lingard, curtly. + +“What sandbank?” muttered Jorgenson, perfunctorily. . . . “Is the yacht +looted, Tom?” + +“Nothing of the kind,” said Lingard. + +“Ah, many dead?” inquired Jorgenson. + +“I tell you there was nothing of the kind,” said Lingard, impatiently. + +“What? No fight!” inquired Jorgenson again without the slightest sign of +animation. + +“No.” + +“And you a fighting man.” + +“Listen to me, Jorgenson. Things turned out so that before the time came +for a fight it was already too late.” He turned to Mrs. Travers still +looking about with anxious eyes and a faint smile on her lips. “While I +was talking to you that evening from the boat it was already too late. +No. There was never any time for it. I have told you all about myself, +Mrs. Travers, and you know that I speak the truth when I say too late. +If you had only been alone in that yacht going about the seas!” + +“Yes,” she struck in, “but I was not alone.” + +Lingard dropped his chin on his breast. Already a foretaste of noonday +heat staled the sparkling freshness of the morning. The smile had +vanished from Edith Travers' lips and her eyes rested on Lingard's bowed +head with an expression no longer curious but which might have appeared +enigmatic to Jorgenson if he had looked at her. But Jorgenson looked at +nothing. He asked from the remoteness of his dead past, “What have you +left outside, Tom? What is there now?” + +“There's the yacht on the shoals, my brig at anchor, and about a hundred +of the worst kind of Illanun vagabonds under three chiefs and with two +war-praus moored to the edge of the bank. Maybe Daman is with them, too, +out there.” + +“No,” said Jorgenson, positively. + +“He has come in,” cried Lingard. “He brought his prisoners in himself +then.” + +“Landed by torchlight,” uttered precisely the shade of Captain +Jorgenson, late of the Barque Wild Rose. He swung his arm pointing +across the lagoon and Mrs. Travers turned about in that direction. + +All the scene was but a great light and a great solitude. Her gaze +travelled over the lustrous, dark sheet of empty water to a shore +bordered by a white beach empty, too, and showing no sign of human life. +The human habitations were lost in the shade of the fruit trees, masked +by the cultivated patches of Indian corn and the banana plantations. +Near the shore the rigid lines of two stockaded forts could be +distinguished flanking the beach, and between them with a great open +space before it, the brown roof slope of an enormous long building that +seemed suspended in the air had a great square flag fluttering above it. +Something like a small white flame in the sky was the carved white coral +finial on the gable of the mosque which had caught full the rays of +the sun. A multitude of gay streamers, white and red, flew over the +half-concealed roofs, over the brilliant fields and amongst the sombre +palm groves. But it might have been a deserted settlement decorated and +abandoned by its departed population. Lingard pointed to the stockade on +the right. + +“That's where your husband is,” he said to Mrs. Travers. + +“Who is the other?” uttered Jorgenson's voice at their backs. He also +was turned that way with his strange sightless gaze fixed beyond them +into the void. + +“A Spanish gentleman I believe you said, Mrs Travers,” observed Lingard. + +“It is extremely difficult to believe that there is anybody there,” + murmured Mrs. Travers. + +“Did you see them both, Jorgenson?” asked Lingard. + +“Made out nobody. Too far. Too dark.” + +As a matter of fact Jorgenson had seen nothing, about an hour before +daybreak, but the distant glare of torches while the loud shouts of an +excited multitude had reached him across the water only like a faint +and tempestuous murmur. Presently the lights went away processionally +through the groves of trees into the armed stockades. The distant glare +vanished in the fading darkness and the murmurs of the invisible crowd +ceased suddenly as if carried off by the retreating shadow of the night. +Daylight followed swiftly, disclosing to the sleepless Jorgenson the +solitude of the shore and the ghostly outlines of the familiar forms of +grouped trees and scattered human habitations. He had watched the varied +colours come out in the dawn, the wide cultivated Settlement of +many shades of green, framed far away by the fine black lines of the +forest-edge that was its limit and its protection. + +Mrs. Travers stood against the rail as motionless as a statue. Her face +had lost all its mobility and her cheeks were dead white as if all the +blood in her body had flowed back into her heart and had remained there. +Her very lips had lost their colour. Lingard caught hold of her arm +roughly. + +“Don't, Mrs. Travers. Why are you terrifying yourself like this? If you +don't believe what I say listen to me asking Jorgenson. . . .” + +“Yes, ask me,” mumbled Jorgenson in his white moustache. + +“Speak straight, Jorgenson. What do you think? Are the gentlemen alive?” + +“Certainly,” said Jorgenson in a sort of disappointed tone as though he +had expected a much more difficult question. + +“Is their life in immediate danger?” + +“Of course not,” said Jorgenson. + +Lingard turned away from the oracle. “You have heard him, Mrs. Travers. +You may believe every word he says. There isn't a thought or a purpose +in that Settlement,” he continued, pointing at the dumb solitude of the +lagoon, “that this man doesn't know as if they were his own.” + +“I know. Ask me,” muttered Jorgenson, mechanically. + +Mrs. Travers said nothing but made a slight movement and her whole rigid +figure swayed dangerously. Lingard put his arm firmly round her waist +and she did not seem aware of it till after she had turned her head and +found Lingard's face very near her own. But his eyes full of concern +looked so close into hers that she was obliged to shut them like a woman +about to faint. + +The effect this produced upon Lingard was such that she felt the +tightening of his arm and as she opened her eyes again some of the +colour returned to her face. She met the deepened expression of his +solicitude with a look so steady, with a gaze that in spite of herself +was so profoundly vivid that its clearness seemed to Lingard to throw +all his past life into shade.--“I don't feel faint. It isn't that at +all,” she declared in a perfectly calm voice. It seemed to Lingard as +cold as ice. + +“Very well,” he agreed with a resigned smile. “But you just catch hold +of that rail, please, before I let you go.” She, too, forced a smile on +her lips. + +“What incredulity,” she remarked, and for a time made not the slightest +movement. At last, as if making a concession, she rested the tips of her +fingers on the rail. Lingard gradually removed his arm. “And pray don't +look upon me as a conventional 'weak woman' person, the delicate lady of +your own conception,” she said, facing Lingard, with her arm extended to +the rail. “Make that effort please against your own conception of what +a woman like me should be. I am perhaps as strong as you are, Captain +Lingard. I mean it literally. In my body.”--“Don't you think I have +seen that long ago?” she heard his deep voice protesting.--“And as to +my courage,” Mrs. Travers continued, her expression charmingly undecided +between frowns and smiles; “didn't I tell you only a few hours ago, only +last evening, that I was not capable of thinking myself into a fright; +you remember, when you were begging me to try something of the kind. +Don't imagine that I would have been ashamed to try. But I couldn't have +done it. No. Not even for the sake of somebody else's kingdom. Do you +understand me?” + +“God knows,” said the attentive Lingard after a time, with an unexpected +sigh. “You people seem to be made of another stuff.” + +“What has put that absurd notion into your head?” + +“I didn't mean better or worse. And I wouldn't say it isn't good stuff +either. What I meant to say is that it's different. One feels it. And +here we are.” + +“Yes, here we are,” repeated Mrs. Travers. “And as to this moment of +emotion, what provoked it is not a concern for anybody or anything +outside myself. I felt no terror. I cannot even fix my fears upon any +distinct image. You think I am shamelessly heartless in telling you +this.” + +Lingard made no sign. It didn't occur to him to make a sign. He +simply hung on Mrs. Travers' words as it were only for the sake of the +sound.--“I am simply frank with you,” she continued. “What do I know of +savagery, violence, murder? I have never seen a dead body in my life. +The light, the silence, the mysterious emptiness of this place have +suddenly affected my imagination, I suppose. What is the meaning of this +wonderful peace in which we stand--you and I alone?” + +Lingard shook his head. He saw the narrow gleam of the woman's teeth +between the parted lips of her smile, as if all the ardour of her +conviction had been dissolved at the end of her speech into wistful +recognition of their partnership before things outside their knowledge. +And he was warmed by something a little helpless in that smile. Within +three feet of them the shade of Jorgenson, very gaunt and neat, stared +into space. + +“Yes. You are strong,” said Lingard. “But a whole long night sitting in +a small boat! I wonder you are not too stiff to stand.” + +“I am not stiff in the least,” she interrupted, still smiling. “I am +really a very strong woman,” she added, earnestly. “Whatever happens you +may reckon on that fact.” + +Lingard gave her an admiring glance. But the shade of Jorgenson, perhaps +catching in its remoteness the sound of the word woman, was suddenly +moved to begin scolding with all the liberty of a ghost, in a flow of +passionless indignation. + +“Woman! That's what I say. That's just about the last touch--that you, +Tom Lingard, red-eyed Tom, King Tom, and all those fine names, that you +should leave your weapons twenty miles behind you, your men, your guns, +your brig that is your strength, and come along here with your mouth +full of fight, bare-handed and with a woman in tow.--Well--well!” + +“Don't forget, Jorgenson, that the lady hears you,” remonstrated Lingard +in a vexed tone. . . . “He doesn't mean to be rude,” he remarked to Mrs. +Travers quite loud, as if indeed Jorgenson were but an immaterial and +feelingless illusion. “He has forgotten.” + +“The woman is not in the least offended. I ask for nothing better than +to be taken on that footing.” + +“Forgot nothing!” mumbled Jorgenson with a sort of ghostly assertiveness +and as it were for his own satisfaction. “What's the world coming to?” + +“It was I who insisted on coming with Captain Lingard,” said Mrs. +Travers, treating Jorgenson to a fascinating sweetness of tone. + +“That's what I say! What is the world coming to? Hasn't King Tom a mind +of his own? What has come over him? He's mad! Leaving his brig with a +hundred and twenty born and bred pirates of the worst kind in two praus +on the other side of a sandbank. Did you insist on that, too? Has he put +himself in the hands of a strange woman?” + +Jorgenson seemed to be asking those questions of himself. Mrs. Travers +observed the empty stare, the self-communing voice, his unearthly lack +of animation. Somehow it made it very easy to speak the whole truth to +him. + +“No,” she said, “it is I who am altogether in his hands.” + +Nobody would have guessed that Jorgenson had heard a single word of that +emphatic declaration if he had not addressed himself to Lingard with the +question neither more nor less abstracted than all his other speeches. + +“Why then did you bring her along?” + +“You don't understand. It was only right and proper. One of the +gentlemen is the lady's husband.” + +“Oh, yes,” muttered Jorgenson. “Who's the other?” + +“You have been told. A friend.” + +“Poor Mr. d'Alcacer,” said Mrs. Travers. “What bad luck for him to have +accepted our invitation. But he is really a mere acquaintance.” + +“I hardly noticed him,” observed Lingard, gloomily. “He was talking to +you over the back of your chair when I came aboard the yacht as if he +had been a very good friend.” + +“We always understood each other very well,” said Mrs. Travers, picking +up from the rail the long glass that was lying there. “I always liked +him, the frankness of his mind, and his great loyalty.” + +“What did he do?” asked Lingard. + +“He loved,” said Mrs. Travers, lightly. “But that's an old story.” She +raised the glass to her eyes, one arm extended fully to sustain the long +tube, and Lingard forgot d'Alcacer in admiring the firmness of her pose +and the absolute steadiness of the heavy glass. She was as firm as a +rock after all those emotions and all that fatigue. + +Mrs. Travers directed the glass instinctively toward the entrance of the +lagoon. The smooth water there shone like a piece of silver in the dark +frame of the forest. A black speck swept across the field of her vision. +It was some time before she could find it again and then she saw, +apparently so near as to be within reach of the voice, a small canoe +with two people in it. She saw the wet paddles rising and dipping with +a flash in the sunlight. She made out plainly the face of Immada, who +seemed to be looking straight into the big end of the telescope. The +chief and his sister, after resting under the bank for a couple of +hours in the middle of the night, had entered the lagoon and were making +straight for the hulk. They were already near enough to be perfectly +distinguishable to the naked eye if there had been anybody on board to +glance that way. But nobody was even thinking of them. They might not +have existed except perhaps in the memory of old Jorgenson. But that was +mostly busy with all the mysterious secrets of his late tomb. + +Mrs. Travers lowered the glass suddenly. Lingard came out from a sort of +trance and said: + +“Mr. d'Alcacer. Loved! Why shouldn't he?” + +Mrs. Travers looked frankly into Lingard's gloomy eyes. “It isn't that +alone, of course,” she said. “First of all he knew how to love and then. +. . . You don't know how artificial and barren certain kinds of life +can be. But Mr. d'Alcacer's life was not that. His devotion was worth +having.” + +“You seem to know a lot about him,'” said Lingard, enviously. “Why do +you smile?” She continued to smile at him for a little while. The long +brass tube over her shoulder shone like gold against the pale fairness +of her bare head.--“At a thought,” she answered, preserving the low tone +of the conversation into which they had fallen as if their words could +have disturbed the self-absorption of Captain H. C. Jorgenson. “At the +thought that for all my long acquaintance with Mr. d'Alcacer I don't +know half as much about him as I know about you.” + +“Ah, that's impossible,” contradicted Lingard. “Spaniard or no Spaniard, +he is one of your kind.” + +“Tarred with the same brush,” murmured Mrs. Travers, with only a +half-amused irony. But Lingard continued: + +“He was trying to make it up between me and your husband, wasn't he? I +was too angry to pay much attention, but I liked him well enough. What +pleased me most was the way in which he gave it up. That was done like a +gentleman. Do you understand what I mean, Mrs. Travers?” + +“I quite understand.” + +“Yes, you would,” he commented, simply. “But just then I was too angry +to talk to anybody. And so I cleared out on board my own ship and stayed +there, not knowing what to do and wishing you all at the bottom of the +sea. Don't mistake me, Mrs. Travers; it's you, the people aft, that I +wished at the bottom of the sea. I had nothing against the poor devils +on board, They would have trusted me quick enough. So I fumed there +till--till. . . .” + +“Till nine o'clock or a little after,” suggested Mrs. Travers, +impenetrably. + +“No. Till I remembered you,” said Lingard with the utmost innocence. + +“Do you mean to say that you forgot my existence so completely till +then? You had spoken to me on board the yacht, you know.” + +“Did I? I thought I did. What did I say?” + +“You told me not to touch a dusky princess,” answered Mrs. Travers with +a short laugh. Then with a visible change of mood as if she had suddenly +out of a light heart been recalled to the sense of the true situation: +“But indeed I meant no harm to this figure of your dream. And, look over +there. She is pursuing you.” Lingard glanced toward the north shore and +suppressed an exclamation of remorse. For the second time he discovered +that he had forgotten the existence of Hassim and Immada. The canoe was +now near enough for its occupants to distinguish plainly the heads of +three people above the low bulwark of the Emma. Immada let her paddle +trail suddenly in the water, with the exclamation, “I see the white +woman there.” Her brother looked over his shoulder and the canoe +floated, arrested as if by the sudden power of a spell.--“They are no +dream to me,” muttered Lingard, sturdily. Mrs. Travers turned abruptly +away to look at the further shore. It was still and empty to the naked +eye and seemed to quiver in the sunshine like an immense painted curtain +lowered upon the unknown. + +“Here's Rajah Hassim coming, Jorgenson. I had an idea he would perhaps +stay outside.” Mrs. Travers heard Lingard's voice at her back and the +answering grunt of Jorgenson. She raised deliberately the long glass to +her eye, pointing it at the shore. + +She distinguished plainly now the colours in the flutter of the +streamers above the brown roofs of the large Settlement, the stir of +palm groves, the black shadows inland and the dazzling white beach of +coral sand all ablaze in its formidable mystery. She swept the whole +range of the view and was going to lower the glass when from behind +the massive angle of the stockade there stepped out into the brilliant +immobility of the landscape a man in a long white gown and with an +enormous black turban surmounting a dark face. Slow and grave he +paced the beach ominously in the sunshine, an enigmatical figure in an +Oriental tale with something weird and menacing in its sudden emergence +and lonely progress. + +With an involuntary gasp Mrs. Travers lowered the glass. All at once +behind her back she heard a low musical voice beginning to pour out +incomprehensible words in a tone of passionate pleading. Hassim and +Immada had come on board and had approached Lingard. Yes! It was +intolerable to feel that this flow of soft speech which had no meaning +for her could make its way straight into that man's heart. + + + +PART V. THE POINT OF HONOUR AND THE POINT OF PASSION + +I + +“May I come in?” + +“Yes,” said a voice within. “The door is open.” It had a wooden latch. +Mr. Travers lifted it while the voice of his wife continued as he +entered. “Did you imagine I had locked myself in? Did you ever know me +lock myself in?” + +Mr. Travers closed the door behind him. “No, it has never come to that,” + he said in a tone that was not conciliatory. In that place which was a +room in a wooden hut and had a square opening without glass but with a +half-closed shutter he could not distinguish his wife very well at once. +She was sitting in an armchair and what he could see best was her +fair hair all loose over the back of the chair. There was a moment +of silence. The measured footsteps of two men pacing athwart the +quarter-deck of the dead ship Emma commanded by the derelict shade of +Jorgenson could be heard outside. + +Jorgenson, on taking up his dead command, had a house of thin boards +built on the after deck for his own accommodation and that of Lingard +during his flying visits to the Shore of Refuge. A narrow passage +divided it in two and Lingard's side was furnished with a camp bedstead, +a rough desk, and a rattan armchair. On one of his visits Lingard had +brought with him a black seaman's chest and left it there. Apart from +these objects and a small looking-glass worth about half a crown and +nailed to the wall there was nothing else in there whatever. What was +on Jorgenson's side of the deckhouse no one had seen, but from external +evidence one could infer the existence of a set of razors. + +The erection of that primitive deckhouse was a matter of propriety +rather than of necessity. It was proper that the white men should have a +place to themselves on board, but Lingard was perfectly accurate when he +told Mrs. Travers that he had never slept there once. His practice was +to sleep on deck. As to Jorgenson, if he did sleep at all he slept very +little. It might have been said that he haunted rather than commanded +the Emma. His white form flitted here and there in the night or stood +for hours, silent, contemplating the sombre glimmer of the lagoon. Mr. +Travers' eyes accustomed gradually to the dusk of the place could +now distinguish more of his wife's person than the great mass of +honey-coloured hair. He saw her face, the dark eyebrows and her eyes +that seemed profoundly black in the half light. He said: + +“You couldn't have done so here. There is neither lock nor bolt.” + +“Isn't there? I didn't notice. I would know how to protect myself +without locks and bolts.” + +“I am glad to hear it,” said Mr. Travers in a sullen tone and fell +silent again surveying the woman in the chair. “Indulging your taste for +fancy dress,” he went on with faint irony. + +Mrs. Travers clasped her hands behind her head. The wide sleeves +slipping back bared her arms to her shoulders. She was wearing a Malay +thin cotton jacket, cut low in the neck without a collar and fastened +with wrought silver clasps from the throat downward. She had replaced +her yachting skirt by a blue check sarong embroidered with threads of +gold. Mr. Travers' eyes travelling slowly down attached themselves to +the gleaming instep of an agitated foot from which hung a light leather +sandal. + +“I had no clothes with me but what I stood in,” said Mrs. Travers. “I +found my yachting costume too heavy. It was intolerable. I was soaked +in dew when I arrived. So when these things were produced for my +inspection. . . .” + +“By enchantment,” muttered Mr. Travers in a tone too heavy for sarcasm. + +“No. Out of that chest. There are very fine stuffs there.” + +“No doubt,” said Mr. Travers. “The man wouldn't be above plundering the +natives. . . .” He sat down heavily on the chest. “A most appropriate +costume for this farce,” he continued. “But do you mean to wear it in +open daylight about the decks?” + +“Indeed I do,” said Mrs. Travers. “D'Alcacer has seen me already and he +didn't seem shocked.” + +“You should,” said Mr. Travers, “try to get yourself presented with some +bangles for your ankles so that you may jingle as you walk.” + +“Bangles are not necessities,” said Mrs. Travers in a weary tone and +with the fixed upward look of a person unwilling to relinquish her +dream. Mr. Travers dropped the subject to ask: + +“And how long is this farce going to last?” + +Mrs. Travers unclasped her hands, lowered her glance, and changed her +whole pose in a moment. + +“What do you mean by farce? What farce?” + +“The one which is being played at my expense.” + +“You believe that?” + +“Not only believe. I feel deeply that it is so. At my expense. It's a +most sinister thing,” Mr. Travers pursued, still with downcast eyes and +in an unforgiving tone. “I must tell you that when I saw you in that +courtyard in a crowd of natives and leaning on that man's arm, it gave +me quite a shock.” + +“Did I, too, look sinister?” said Mrs. Travers, turning her head +slightly toward her husband. “And yet I assure you that I was glad, +profoundly glad, to see you safe from danger for a time at least. To +gain time is everything. . . .” + +“I ask myself,” Mr. Travers meditated aloud, “was I ever in danger? Am +I safe now? I don't know. I can't tell. No! All this seems an abominable +farce.” + +There was that in his tone which made his wife continue to look at him +with awakened interest. It was obvious that he suffered from a distress +which was not the effect of fear; and Mrs. Travers' face expressed real +concern till he added in a freezing manner: “The question, however, is +as to your discretion.” + +She leaned back again in the chair and let her hands rest quietly in her +lap. “Would you have preferred me to remain outside, in the yacht, in +the near neighbourhood of these wild men who captured you? Or do you +think that they, too, were got up to carry on a farce?” + +“Most decidedly.” Mr. Travers raised his head, though of course not his +voice. “You ought to have remained in the yacht amongst white men, your +servants, the sailing-master, the crew whose duty it was to. . . . Who +would have been ready to die for you.” + +“I wonder why they should have--and why I should have asked them for +that sacrifice. However, I have no doubt they would have died. Or would +you have preferred me to take up my quarters on board that man's brig? +We were all fairly safe there. The real reason why I insisted on coming +in here was to be nearer to you--to see for myself what could be or was +being done. . . . But really if you want me to explain my motives then I +may just as well say nothing. I couldn't remain outside for days without +news, in a state of horrible doubt. We couldn't even tell whether you +and d'Alcacer were still alive till we arrived here. You might have been +actually murdered on the sandbank, after Rajah Hassim and that girl had +gone away; or killed while going up the river. And I wanted to know at +once, as soon as possible. It was a matter of impulse. I went off in +what I stood in without delaying a moment.” + +“Yes,” said Mr. Travers. “And without even thinking of having a +few things put up for me in a bag. No doubt you were in a state of +excitement. Unless you took such a tragic view that it seemed to you +hardly worth while to bother about my clothes.” + +“It was absolutely the impulse of the moment. I could have done nothing +else. Won't you give me credit for it?” + +Mr. Travers raised his eyes again to his wife's face. He saw it calm, +her attitude reposeful. Till then his tone had been resentful, dull, +without sarcasm. But now he became slightly pompous. + +“No. As a matter of fact, as a matter of experience, I can't credit +you with the possession of feelings appropriate to your origin, social +position, and the ideas of the class to which you belong. It was the +heaviest disappointment of my life. I had made up my mind not to mention +it as long as I lived. This, however, seems an occasion which you have +provoked yourself. It isn't at all a solemn occasion. I don't look upon +it as solemn at all. It's very disagreeable and humiliating. But it +has presented itself. You have never taken a serious interest in the +activities of my life which of course are its distinction and its value. +And why you should be carried away suddenly by a feeling toward the mere +man I don't understand.” + +“Therefore you don't approve,” Mrs. Travers commented in an even +tone. “But I assure you, you may safely. My feeling was of the most +conventional nature, exactly as if the whole world were looking on. +After all, we are husband and wife. It's eminently fitting that I should +be concerned about your fate. Even the man you distrust and dislike so +much (the warmest feeling, let me tell you, that I ever saw you display) +even that man found my conduct perfectly proper. His own word. Proper. +So eminently proper that it altogether silenced his objections.” + +Mr. Travers shifted uneasily on his seat. + +“It's my belief, Edith, that if you had been a man you would have led +a most irregular life. You would have been a frank adventurer. I mean +morally. It has been a great grief to me. You have a scorn in you for +the serious side of life, for the ideas and the ambitions of the social +sphere to which you belong.” + +He stopped because his wife had clasped again her hands behind her head +and was no longer looking at him. + +“It's perfectly obvious,” he began again. “We have been living amongst +most distinguished men and women and your attitude to them has been +always so--so negative! You would never recognize the importance of +achievements, of acquired positions. I don't remember you ever admiring +frankly any political or social success. I ask myself what after all you +could possibly have expected from life.” + +“I could never have expected to hear such a speech from you. As to what +I did expect! . . . I must have been very stupid.” + +“No, you are anything but that,” declared Mr. Travers, conscientiously. +“It isn't stupidity.” He hesitated for a moment. “It's a kind of +wilfulness, I think. I preferred not to think about this grievous +difference in our points of view, which, you will admit, I could not +have possibly foreseen before we. . . .” + +A sort of solemn embarrassment had come over Mr. Travers. Mrs. Travers, +leaning her chin on the palm of her hand, stared at the bare matchboard +side of the hut. + +“Do you charge me with profound girlish duplicity?” she asked, very +softly. + +The inside of the deckhouse was full of stagnant heat perfumed by +a slight scent which seemed to emanate from the loose mass of Mrs. +Travers' hair. Mr. Travers evaded the direct question which struck him +as lacking fineness even to the point of impropriety. + +“I must suppose that I was not in the calm possession of my insight and +judgment in those days,” he said. “I--I was not in a critical state of +mind at the time,” he admitted further; but even after going so far +he did not look up at his wife and therefore missed something like +the ghost of a smile on Mrs. Travers' lips. That smile was tinged with +scepticism which was too deep-seated for anything but the faintest +expression. Therefore she said nothing, and Mr. Travers went on as if +thinking aloud: + +“Your conduct was, of course, above reproach; but you made for yourself +a detestable reputation of mental superiority, expressed ironically. You +inspired mistrust in the best people. You were never popular.” + +“I was bored,” murmured Mrs. Travers in a reminiscent tone and with her +chin resting in the hollow of her hand. + +Mr. Travers got up from the seaman's chest as unexpectedly as if he had +been stung by a wasp, but, of course, with a much slower and more solemn +motion. + +“The matter with you, Edith, is that at heart you are perfectly +primitive.” Mrs. Travers stood up, too, with a supple, leisurely +movement, and raising her hands to her hair turned half away with a +pensive remark: + +“Imperfectly civilized.” + +“Imperfectly disciplined,” corrected Mr. Travers after a moment of +dreary meditation. + +She let her arms fall and turned her head. + +“No, don't say that,” she protested with strange earnestness. “I am the +most severely disciplined person in the world. I am tempted to say that +my discipline has stopped at nothing short of killing myself. I suppose +you can hardly understand what I mean.” + +Mr. Travers made a slight grimace at the floor. + +“I shall not try,” he said. “It sounds like something that a barbarian, +hating the delicate complexities and the restraints of a nobler life, +might have said. From you it strikes me as wilful bad taste. . . . +I have often wondered at your tastes. You have always liked +extreme opinions, exotic costumes, lawless characters, romantic +personalities--like d'Alcacer . . .” + +“Poor Mr. d'Alcacer,” murmured Mrs. Travers. + +“A man without any ideas of duty or usefulness,” said Mr. Travers, +acidly. “What are you pitying him for?” + +“Why! For finding himself in this position out of mere good-nature. +He had nothing to expect from joining our voyage, no advantage for his +political ambitions or anything of the kind. I suppose you asked him on +board to break our tete-a-tete which must have grown wearisome to you.” + +“I am never bored,” declared Mr. Travers. “D'Alcacer seemed glad to +come. And, being a Spaniard, the horrible waste of time cannot matter to +him in the least.” + +“Waste of time!” repeated Mrs. Travers, indignantly. + +“He may yet have to pay for his good nature with his life.” + +Mr. Travers could not conceal a movement of anger. + +“Ah! I forgot those assumptions,” he said between his clenched teeth. +“He is a mere Spaniard. He takes this farcical conspiracy with perfect +nonchalance. Decayed races have their own philosophy.” + +“He takes it with a dignity of his own.” + +“I don't know what you call his dignity. I should call it lack of +self-respect.” + +“Why? Because he is quiet and courteous, and reserves his judgment. And +allow me to tell you, Martin, that you are not taking our troubles very +well.” + +“You can't expect from me all those foreign affectations. I am not in +the habit of compromising with my feelings.” + +Mrs. Travers turned completely round and faced her husband. “You sulk,” + she said. . . . Mr. Travers jerked his head back a little as if to let +the word go past.--“I am outraged,” he declared. Mrs. Travers recognized +there something like real suffering.--“I assure you,” she said, +seriously (for she was accessible to pity), “I assure you that this +strange Lingard has no idea of your importance. He doesn't know anything +of your social and political position and still less of your great +ambitions.” Mr. Travers listened with some attention.--“Couldn't you +have enlightened him?” he asked.--“It would have been no use; his mind +is fixed upon his own position and upon his own sense of power. He is +a man of the lower classes. . . .”--“He is a brute,” said Mr. Travers, +obstinately, and for a moment those two looked straight into each +other's eyes.--“Oh,” said Mrs. Travers, slowly, “you are determined not +to compromise with your feelings!” An undertone of scorn crept into her +voice. “But shall I tell you what I think? I think,” and she advanced +her head slightly toward the pale, unshaven face that confronted her +dark eyes, “I think that for all your blind scorn you judge the man +well enough to feel that you can indulge your indignation with perfect +safety. Do you hear? With perfect safety!” Directly she had spoken she +regretted these words. Really it was unreasonable to take Mr. Travers' +tricks of character more passionately on this spot of the Eastern +Archipelago full of obscure plots and warring motives than in the more +artificial atmosphere of the town. After all what she wanted was simply +to save his life, not to make him understand anything. Mr. Travers +opened his mouth and without uttering a word shut it again. His wife +turned toward the looking-glass nailed to the wall. She heard his voice +behind her. + +“Edith, where's the truth in all this?” + +She detected the anguish of a slow mind with an instinctive dread of +obscure places wherein new discoveries can be made. She looked over her +shoulder to say: + +“It's on the surface, I assure you. Altogether on the surface.” + +She turned again to the looking-glass where her own face met her with +dark eyes and a fair mist of hair above the smooth forehead; but her +words had produced no soothing effect. + +“But what does it mean?” cried Mr. Travers. “Why doesn't the fellow +apologize? Why are we kept here? Are we being kept here? Why don't we +get away? Why doesn't he take me back on board my yacht? What does he +want from me? How did he procure our release from these people on shore +who he says intended to cut our throats? Why did they give us up to him +instead?” + +Mrs. Travers began to twist her hair on her head. + +“Matters of high policy and of local politics. Conflict of personal +interests, mistrust between the parties, intrigues of individuals--you +ought to know how that sort of thing works. His diplomacy made use of +all that. The first thing to do was not to liberate you but to get you +into his keeping. He is a very great man here and let me tell you that +your safety depends on his dexterity in the use of his prestige rather +than on his power which he cannot use. If you would let him talk to +you I am sure he would tell you as much as it is possible for him to +disclose.” + +“I don't want to be told about any of his rascalities. But haven't you +been taken into his confidence?” + +“Completely,” admitted Mrs. Travers, peering into the small +looking-glass. + +“What is the influence you brought to bear upon this man? It looks to me +as if our fate were in your hands.” + +“Your fate is not in my hands. It is not even in his hands. There is a +moral situation here which must be solved.” + +“Ethics of blackmail,” commented Mr. Travers with unexpected sarcasm. It +flashed through his wife's mind that perhaps she didn't know him so well +as she had supposed. It was as if the polished and solemn crust of hard +proprieties had cracked slightly, here and there, under the strain, +disclosing the mere wrongheadedness of a common mortal. But it was +only manner that had cracked a little; the marvellous stupidity of +his conceit remained the same. She thought that this discussion was +perfectly useless, and as she finished putting up her hair she said: “I +think we had better go on deck now.” + +“You propose to go out on deck like this?” muttered Mr. Travers with +downcast eyes. + +“Like this? Certainly. It's no longer a novelty. Who is going to be +shocked?” + +Mr. Travers made no reply. What she had said of his attitude was very +true. He sulked at the enormous offensiveness of men, things, and +events; of words and even of glances which he seemed to feel physically +resting on his skin like a pain, like a degrading contact. He managed +not to wince. But he sulked. His wife continued, “And let me tell +you that those clothes are fit for a princess--I mean they are of the +quality, material and style custom prescribes for the highest in the +land, a far-distant land where I am informed women rule as much as the +men. In fact they were meant to be presented to an actual princess in +due course. They were selected with the greatest care for that child +Immada. Captain Lingard. . . .” + +Mr. Travers made an inarticulate noise partaking of a groan and a grunt. + +“Well, I must call him by some name and this I thought would be the +least offensive for you to hear. After all, the man exists. But he is +known also on a certain portion of the earth's surface as King Tom. +D'Alcacer is greatly taken by that name. It seems to him wonderfully +well adapted to the man, in its familiarity and deference. And if you +prefer. . . .” + +“I would prefer to hear nothing,” said Mr. Travers, distinctly. “Not a +single word. Not even from you, till I am a free agent again. But words +don't touch me. Nothing can touch me; neither your sinister warnings nor +the moods of levity which you think proper to display before a man whose +life, according to you, hangs on a thread.” + +“I never forget it for a moment,” said Mrs. Travers. “And I not only +know that it does but I also know the strength of the thread. It is a +wonderful thread. You may say if you like it has been spun by the same +fate which made you what you are.” + +Mr. Travers felt awfully offended. He had never heard anybody, let alone +his own self, addressed in such terms. The tone seemed to question his +very quality. He reflected with shocked amazement that he had lived with +that woman for eight years! And he said to her gloomily: + +“You talk like a pagan.” + +It was a very strong condemnation which apparently Mrs. Travers had +failed to hear for she pursued with animation: + +“But really, you can't expect me to meditate on it all the time or shut +myself up here and mourn the circumstances from morning to night. It +would be morbid. Let us go on deck.” + +“And you look simply heathenish in this costume,” Mr. Travers went on +as though he had not been interrupted, and with an accent of deliberate +disgust. + +Her heart was heavy but everything he said seemed to force the tone +of levity on to her lips. “As long as I don't look like a guy,” she +remarked, negligently, and then caught the direction of his lurid stare +which as a matter of fact was fastened on her bare feet. She checked +herself, “Oh, yes, if you prefer it I will put on my stockings. But you +know I must be very careful of them. It's the only pair I have here. I +have washed them this morning in that bathroom which is built over the +stern. They are now drying over the rail just outside. Perhaps you will +be good enough to pass them to me when you go on deck.” + +Mr. Travers spun round and went on deck without a word. As soon as she +was alone Mrs. Travers pressed her hands to her temples, a gesture of +distress which relieved her by its sincerity. The measured footsteps of +two men came to her plainly from the deck, rhythmic and double with +a suggestion of tranquil and friendly intercourse. She distinguished +particularly the footfalls of the man whose life's orbit was most remote +from her own. And yet the orbits had cut! A few days ago she could +not have even conceived of his existence, and now he was the man whose +footsteps, it seemed to her, her ears could single unerringly in the +tramp of a crowd. It was, indeed, a fabulous thing. In the half light of +her over-heated shelter she let an irresolute, frightened smile pass off +her lips before she, too, went on deck. + + + +II + +An ingeniously constructed framework of light posts and thin laths +occupied the greater part of the deck amidships of the Emma. The four +walls of that airy structure were made of muslin. It was comparatively +lofty. A door-like arrangement of light battens filled with calico +was further protected by a system of curtains calculated to baffle the +pursuit of mosquitoes that haunted the shores of the lagoon in great +singing clouds from sunset till sunrise. A lot of fine mats covered +the deck space within the transparent shelter devised by Lingard and +Jorgenson to make Mrs. Travers' existence possible during the time when +the fate of the two men, and indeed probably of everybody else on board +the Emma, had to hang in the balance. Very soon Lingard's unbidden and +fatal guests had learned the trick of stepping in and out of the place +quickly. Mr. d'Alcacer performed the feat without apparent haste, almost +nonchalantly, yet as well as anybody. It was generally conceded that he +had never let a mosquito in together with himself. Mr. Travers dodged in +and out without grace and was obviously much irritated at the necessity. +Mrs. Travers did it in a manner all her own, with marked cleverness +and an unconscious air. There was an improvised table in there and some +wicker armchairs which Jorgenson had produced from somewhere in the +depths of the ship. It was hard to say what the inside of the Emma +did not contain. It was crammed with all sorts of goods like a general +store. That old hulk was the arsenal and the war-chest of Lingard's +political action; she was stocked with muskets and gunpowder, with bales +of longcloth, of cotton prints, of silks; with bags of rice and currency +brass guns. She contained everything necessary for dealing death and +distributing bribes, to act on the cupidity and upon the fears of men, +to march and to organize, to feed the friends and to combat the enemies +of the cause. She held wealth and power in her flanks, that grounded +ship that would swim no more, without masts and with the best part +of her deck cumbered by the two structures of thin boards and of +transparent muslin. + +Within the latter lived the Europeans, visible in the daytime to the few +Malays on board as if through a white haze. In the evening the lighting +of the hurricane lamps inside turned them into dark phantoms surrounded +by a shining mist, against which the insect world rushing in its +millions out of the forest on the bank was baffled mysteriously in its +assault. Rigidly enclosed by transparent walls, like captives of +an enchanted cobweb, they moved about, sat, gesticulated, conversed +publicly during the day; and at night when all the lanterns but one were +extinguished, their slumbering shapes covered all over by white cotton +sheets on the camp bedsteads, which were brought in every evening, +conveyed the gruesome suggestion of dead bodies reposing on stretchers. +The food, such as it was, was served within that glorified mosquito net +which everybody called the “Cage” without any humorous intention. At +meal times the party from the yacht had the company of Lingard who +attached to this ordeal a sense of duty performed at the altar of +civility and conciliation. He could have no conception how much his +presence added to the exasperation of Mr. Travers because Mr. Travers' +manner was too intensely consistent to present any shades. It was +determined by an ineradicable conviction that he was a victim held to +ransom on some incomprehensible terms by an extraordinary and outrageous +bandit. This conviction, strung to the highest pitch, never left him for +a moment, being the object of indignant meditation to his mind, and even +clinging, as it were, to his very body. It lurked in his eyes, in his +gestures, in his ungracious mutters, and in his sinister silences. The +shock to his moral being had ended by affecting Mr. Travers' physical +machine. He was aware of hepatic pains, suffered from accesses of +somnolence and suppressed gusts of fury which frightened him secretly. +His complexion had acquired a yellow tinge, while his heavy eyes had +become bloodshot because of the smoke of the open wood fires during +his three days' detention inside Belarab's stockade. His eyes had been +always very sensitive to outward conditions. D'Alcacer's fine black eyes +were more enduring and his appearance did not differ very much from his +ordinary appearance on board the yacht. He had accepted with smiling +thanks the offer of a thin blue flannel tunic from Jorgenson. Those two +men were much of the same build, though of course d'Alcacer, quietly +alive and spiritually watchful, did not resemble Jorgenson, who, without +being exactly macabre, behaved more like an indifferent but restless +corpse. Those two could not be said to have ever conversed together. +Conversation with Jorgenson was an impossible thing. Even Lingard never +attempted the feat. He propounded questions to Jorgenson much as a +magician would interrogate an evoked shade, or gave him curt directions +as one would make use of some marvellous automaton. And that was +apparently the way in which Jorgenson preferred to be treated. Lingard's +real company on board the Emma was d'Alcacer. D'Alcacer had met Lingard +on the easy terms of a man accustomed all his life to good society in +which the very affectations must be carried on without effort. Whether +affectation, or nature, or inspired discretion, d'Alcacer never let the +slightest curiosity pierce the smoothness of his level, grave courtesy +lightened frequently by slight smiles which often had not much +connection with the words he uttered, except that somehow they made them +sound kindly and as it were tactful. In their character, however, those +words were strictly neutral. + +The only time when Lingard had detected something of a deeper +comprehension in d'Alcacer was the day after the long negotiations +inside Belarab's stockade for the temporary surrender of the prisoners. +That move had been suggested to him, exactly as Mrs. Travers had told +her husband, by the rivalries of the parties and the state of public +opinion in the Settlement deprived of the presence of the man who, +theoretically at least, was the greatest power and the visible ruler +of the Shore of Refuge. Belarab still lingered at his father's tomb. +Whether that man of the embittered and pacific heart had withdrawn there +to meditate upon the unruliness of mankind and the thankless nature of +his task; or whether he had gone there simply to bathe in a particularly +clear pool which was a feature of the place, give himself up to the +enjoyment of a certain fruit which grew in profusion there and indulge +for a time in a scrupulous performance of religious exercises, his +absence from the Settlement was a fact of the utmost gravity. It is true +that the prestige of a long-unquestioned rulership and the long-settled +mental habits of the people had caused the captives to be taken straight +to Belarab's stockade as a matter of course. Belarab, at a distance, +could still outweigh the power on the spot of Tengga, whose secret +purposes were no better known, who was jovial, talkative, outspoken and +pugnacious; but who was not a professed servant of God famed for many +charities and a scrupulous performance of pious practices, and who also +had no father who had achieved a local saintship. But Belarab, with +his glamour of asceticism and melancholy together with a reputation for +severity (for a man so pious would be naturally ruthless), was not on +the spot. The only favourable point in his absence was the fact that +he had taken with him his latest wife, the same lady whom Jorgenson had +mentioned in his letter to Lingard as anxious to bring about battle, +murder, and the looting of the yacht, not because of inborn wickedness +of heart but from a simple desire for silks, jewels and other objects +of personal adornment, quite natural in a girl so young and elevated to +such a high position. Belarab had selected her to be the companion of +his retirement and Lingard was glad of it. He was not afraid of her +influence over Belarab. He knew his man. No words, no blandishments, no +sulks, scoldings, or whisperings of a favourite could affect either the +resolves or the irresolutions of that Arab whose action ever seemed +to hang in mystic suspense between the contradictory speculations and +judgments disputing the possession of his will. It was not what Belarab +would either suddenly do or leisurely determine upon that Lingard was +afraid of. The danger was that in his taciturn hesitation, which had +something hopelessly godlike in its remote calmness, the man would do +nothing and leave his white friend face to face with unruly impulses +against which Lingard had no means of action but force which he dared +not use since it would mean the destruction of his plans and the +downfall of his hopes; and worse still would wear an aspect of treachery +to Hassim and Immada, those fugitives whom he had snatched away from +the jaws of death on a night of storm and had promised to lead back +in triumph to their own country he had seen but once, sleeping unmoved +under the wrath and fire of heaven. + +On the afternoon of the very day he had arrived with her on board the +Emma--to the infinite disgust of Jorgenson--Lingard held with Mrs. +Travers (after she had had a couple of hours' rest) a long, fiery, and +perplexed conversation. From the nature of the problem it could not be +exhaustive; but toward the end of it they were both feeling thoroughly +exhausted. Mrs. Travers had no longer to be instructed as to facts and +possibilities. She was aware of them only too well and it was not her +part to advise or argue. She was not called upon to decide or to plead. +The situation was far beyond that. But she was worn out with watching +the passionate conflict within the man who was both so desperately +reckless and so rigidly restrained in the very ardour of his heart and +the greatness of his soul. It was a spectacle that made her forget +the actual questions at issue. This was no stage play; and yet she had +caught herself looking at him with bated breath as at a great actor on a +darkened stage in some simple and tremendous drama. He extorted from her +a response to the forces that seemed to tear at his single-minded +brain, at his guileless breast. He shook her with his own struggles, he +possessed her with his emotions and imposed his personality as if its +tragedy were the only thing worth considering in this matter. And +yet what had she to do with all those obscure and barbarous things? +Obviously nothing. Unluckily she had been taken into the confidence of +that man's passionate perplexity, a confidence provoked apparently by +nothing but the power of her personality. She was flattered, and even +more, she was touched by it; she was aware of something that resembled +gratitude and provoked a sort of emotional return as between equals who +had secretly recognized each other's value. Yet at the same time she +regretted not having been left in the dark; as much in the dark as Mr. +Travers himself or d'Alcacer, though as to the latter it was impossible +to say how much precise, unaccountable, intuitive knowledge was buried +under his unruffled manner. + +D'Alcacer was the sort of man whom it would be much easier to suspect +of anything in the world than ignorance--or stupidity. Naturally he +couldn't know anything definite or even guess at the bare outline of the +facts but somehow he must have scented the situation in those few days +of contact with Lingard. He was an acute and sympathetic observer in all +his secret aloofness from the life of men which was so very different +from Jorgenson's secret divorce from the passions of this earth. Mrs. +Travers would have liked to share with d'Alcacer the burden (for it +was a burden) of Lingard's story. After all, she had not provoked those +confidences, neither had that unexpected adventurer from the sea laid on +her an obligation of secrecy. No, not even by implication. He had never +said to her that she was the _only_ person whom he wished to know that +story. + +No. What he had said was that she was the only person to whom he _could_ +tell the tale himself, as if no one else on earth had the power to draw +it from him. That was the sense and nothing more. Yes, it would have +been a relief to tell d'Alcacer. It would have been a relief to her +feeling of being shut off from the world alone with Lingard as if within +the four walls of a romantic palace and in an exotic atmosphere. Yes, +that relief and also another: that of sharing the responsibility with +somebody fit to understand. Yet she shrank from it, with unaccountable +reserve, as if by talking of Lingard with d'Alcacer she was bound to +give him an insight into herself. It was a vague uneasiness and yet so +persistent that she felt it, too, when she had to approach and talk to +Lingard under d'Alcacer's eyes. Not that Mr. d'Alcacer would ever dream +of staring or even casting glances. But was he averting his eyes on +purpose? That would be even more offensive. + +“I am stupid,” whispered Mrs. Travers to herself, with a complete and +reassuring conviction. Yet she waited motionless till the footsteps of +the two men stopped outside the deckhouse, then separated and died away, +before she went out on deck. She came out on deck some time after her +husband. As if in intended contrast to the conflicts of men a great +aspect of serenity lay upon all visible things. Mr. Travers had gone +inside the Cage in which he really looked like a captive and thoroughly +out of place. D'Alcacer had gone in there, too, but he preserved--or was +it an illusion?--an air of independence. It was not that he put it +on. Like Mr. Travers he sat in a wicker armchair in very much the same +attitude as the other gentleman and also silent; but there was somewhere +a subtle difference which did away with the notion of captivity. +Moreover, d'Alcacer had that peculiar gift of never looking out of place +in any surroundings. Mrs. Travers, in order to save her European boots +for active service, had been persuaded to use a pair of leather sandals +also extracted from that seaman's chest in the deckhouse. An additional +fastening had been put on them but she could not avoid making a delicate +clatter as she walked on the deck. No part of her costume made her feel +so exotic. It also forced her to alter her usual gait and move with +quick, short steps very much like Immada. + +“I am robbing the girl of her clothes,” she had thought to herself, +“besides other things.” She knew by this time that a girl of such +high rank would never dream of wearing anything that had been worn by +somebody else. + +At the slight noise of Mrs. Travers' sandals d'Alcacer looked over the +back of his chair. But he turned his head away at once and Mrs. Travers, +leaning her elbow on the rail and resting her head on the palm of her +hand, looked across the calm surface of the lagoon, idly. + +She was turning her back on the Cage, the fore-part of the deck and +the edge of the nearest forest. That great erection of enormous solid +trunks, dark, rugged columns festooned with writhing creepers and +steeped in gloom, was so close to the bank that by looking over the +side of the ship she could see inverted in the glassy belt of water +its massive and black reflection on the reflected sky that gave the +impression of a clear blue abyss seen through a transparent film. And +when she raised her eyes the same abysmal immobility seemed to reign +over the whole sun-bathed enlargement of that lagoon which was one of +the secret places of the earth. She felt strongly her isolation. She was +so much the only being of her kind moving within this mystery that even +to herself she looked like an apparition without rights and without +defence and that must end by surrendering to those forces which seemed +to her but the expression of the unconscious genius of the place. Hers +was the most complete loneliness, charged with a catastrophic tension. +It lay about her as though she had been set apart within a magic circle. +It cut off--but it did not protect. The footsteps that she knew how to +distinguish above all others on that deck were heard suddenly behind +her. She did not turn her head. + +Since that afternoon when the gentlemen, as Lingard called them, had +been brought on board, Mrs. Travers and Lingard had not exchanged one +significant word. + +When Lingard had decided to proceed by way of negotiation she had asked +him on what he based his hope of success; and he had answered her: “On +my luck.” What he really depended on was his prestige; but even if he +had been aware of such a word he would not have used it, since it would +have sounded like a boast. And, besides, he did really believe in his +luck. Nobody, either white or brown, had ever doubted his word and that, +of course, gave him great assurance in entering upon the negotiation. +But the ultimate issue of it would be always a matter of luck. He said +so distinctly to Mrs. Travers at the moment of taking leave of her, +with Jorgenson already waiting for him in the boat that was to take them +across the lagoon to Belarab's stockade. + +Startled by his decision (for it had come suddenly clinched by the words +“I believe I can do it”), Mrs. Travers had dropped her hand into +his strong open palm on which an expert in palmistry could have +distinguished other lines than the line of luck. Lingard's hand closed +on hers with a gentle pressure. She looked at him, speechless. He waited +for a moment, then in an unconsciously tender voice he said: “Well, wish +me luck then.” + +She remained silent. And he still holding her hand looked surprised at +her hesitation. It seemed to her that she could not let him go, and she +didn't know what to say till it occurred to her to make use of the power +she knew she had over him. She would try it again. “I am coming with +you,” she declared with decision. “You don't suppose I could remain here +in suspense for hours, perhaps.” + +He dropped her hand suddenly as if it had burnt him--“Oh, yes, of +course,” he mumbled with an air of confusion. One of the men over there +was her husband! And nothing less could be expected from such a woman. +He had really nothing to say but she thought he hesitated.--“Do you +think my presence would spoil everything? I assure you I am a lucky +person, too, in a way. . . . As lucky as you, at least,” she had added +in a murmur and with a smile which provoked his responsive mutter--“Oh, +yes, we are a lucky pair of people.”--“I count myself lucky in having +found a man like you to fight my--our battles,” she said, warmly. +“Suppose you had not existed? . . . . You must let me come with you!” + For the second time before her expressed wish to stand by his side he +bowed his head. After all, if things came to the worst, she would be as +safe between him and Jorgenson as left alone on board the Emma with +a few Malay spearmen for all defence. For a moment Lingard thought +of picking up the pistols he had taken out of his belt preparatory to +joining Jorgenson in the boat, thinking it would be better to go to a +big talk completely unarmed. They were lying on the rail but he didn't +pick them up. Four shots didn't matter. They could not matter if the +world of his creation were to go to pieces. He said nothing of that to +Mrs. Travers but busied himself in giving her the means to alter her +personal appearance. It was then that the sea-chest in the deckhouse +was opened for the first time before the interested Mrs. Travers who had +followed him inside. Lingard handed to her a Malay woman's light cotton +coat with jewelled clasps to put over her European dress. It covered +half of her yachting skirt. Mrs. Travers obeyed him without comment. He +pulled out a long and wide scarf of white silk embroidered heavily on +the edges and ends, and begged her to put it over her head and arrange +the ends so as to muffle her face, leaving little more than her eyes +exposed to view.--“We are going amongst a lot of Mohammedans,” he +explained.--“I see. You want me to look respectable,” she jested.--“I +assure you, Mrs. Travers,” he protested, earnestly, “that most of the +people there and certainly all the great men have never seen a white +woman in their lives. But perhaps you would like better one of those +other scarves? There are three in there.”--“No, I like this one well +enough. They are all very gorgeous. I see that the Princess is to be +sent back to her land with all possible splendour. What a thoughtful man +you are, Captain Lingard. That child will be touched by your generosity. +. . . Will I do like this?” + +“Yes,” said Lingard, averting his eyes. Mrs. Travers followed him into +the boat where the Malays stared in silence while Jorgenson, stiff and +angular, gave no sign of life, not even so much as a movement of the +eyes. Lingard settled her in the stern sheets and sat down by her side. +The ardent sunshine devoured all colours. The boat swam forward on the +glare heading for the strip of coral beach dazzling like a crescent of +metal raised to a white heat. They landed. Gravely, Jorgenson opened +above Mrs. Travers' head a big white cotton parasol and she advanced +between the two men, dazed, as if in a dream and having no other contact +with the earth but through the soles of her feet. Everything was still, +empty, incandescent, and fantastic. Then when the gate of the stockade +was thrown open she perceived an expectant and still multitude of bronze +figures draped in coloured stuffs. They crowded the patches of shade +under the three lofty forest trees left within the enclosure between the +sun-smitten empty spaces of hard-baked ground. The broad blades of the +spears decorated with crimson tufts of horsehair had a cool gleam under +the outspread boughs. To the left a group of buildings on piles with +long verandahs and immense roofs towered high in the air above the +heads of the crowd, and seemed to float in the glare, looking much less +substantial than their heavy shadows. Lingard, pointing to one of the +smallest, said in an undertone, “I lived there for a fortnight when I +first came to see Belarab”; and Mrs. Travers felt more than ever as if +walking in a dream when she perceived beyond the rails of its verandah +and visible from head to foot two figures in an armour of chain mail +with pointed steel helmets crested with white and black feathers and +guarding the closed door. A high bench draped in turkey cloth stood +in an open space of the great audience shed. Lingard led her up to it, +Jorgenson on her other side closed the parasol calmly, and when she sat +down between them the whole throng before her eyes sank to the ground +with one accord disclosing in the distance of the courtyard a lonely +figure leaning against the smooth trunk of a tree. A white cloth was +fastened round his head by a yellow cord. Its pointed ends fell on +his shoulders, framing a thin dark face with large eyes, a silk cloak +striped black and white fell to his feet, and in the distance he looked +aloof and mysterious in his erect and careless attitude suggesting +assurance and power. + +Lingard, bending slightly, whispered into Mrs. Travers' ear that that +man, apart and dominating the scene, was Daman, the supreme leader of +the Illanuns, the one who had ordered the capture of those gentlemen in +order perhaps to force his hand. The two barbarous, half-naked figures +covered with ornaments and charms, squatting at his feet with their +heads enfolded in crimson and gold handkerchiefs and with straight +swords lying across their knees, were the Pangerans who carried out the +order, and had brought the captives into the lagoon. But the two men in +chain armour on watch outside the door of the small house were Belarab's +two particular body-guards, who got themselves up in that way only on +very great occasions. They were the outward and visible sign that the +prisoners were in Belarab's keeping, and this was good, so far. The pity +was that the Great Chief himself was not there. Then Lingard assumed a +formal pose and Mrs. Travers stared into the great courtyard and with +rows and rows of faces ranged on the ground at her feet felt a little +giddy for a moment. + +Every movement had died in the crowd. Even the eyes were still under the +variegated mass of coloured headkerchiefs: while beyond the open gate a +noble palm tree looked intensely black against the glitter of the lagoon +and the pale incandescence of the sky. Mrs. Travers gazing that way +wondered at the absence of Hassim and Immada. But the girl might have +been somewhere within one of the houses with the ladies of Belarab's +stockade. Then suddenly Mrs. Travers became aware that another bench +had been brought out and was already occupied by five men dressed in +gorgeous silks, and embroidered velvets, round-faced and grave. Their +hands reposed on their knees; but one amongst them clad in a white robe +and with a large nearly black turban on his head leaned forward a little +with his chin in his hand. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes remained +fixed on the ground as if to avoid looking at the infidel woman. + +She became aware suddenly of a soft murmur, and glancing at Lingard +she saw him in an attitude of impassive attention. The momentous +negotiations had begun, and it went on like this in low undertones with +long pauses and in the immobility of all the attendants squatting on the +ground, with the distant figure of Daman far off in the shade towering +over all the assembly. But in him, too, Mrs. Travers could not detect +the slightest movement while the slightly modulated murmurs went on +enveloping her in a feeling of peace. + +The fact that she couldn't understand anything of what was said soothed +her apprehensions. Sometimes a silence fell and Lingard bending toward +her would whisper, “It isn't so easy,” and the stillness would be so +perfect that she would hear the flutter of a pigeon's wing somewhere +high up in the great overshadowing trees. And suddenly one of the men +before her without moving a limb would begin another speech rendered +more mysterious still by the total absence of action or play of feature. +Only the watchfulness of the eyes which showed that the speaker was +not communing with himself made it clear that this was not a spoken +meditation but a flow of argument directed to Lingard who now and then +uttered a few words either with a grave or a smiling expression. They +were always followed by murmurs which seemed mostly to her to convey +assent; and then a reflective silence would reign again and the +immobility of the crowd would appear more perfect than before. + +When Lingard whispered to her that it was now his turn to make a +speech Mrs. Travers expected him to get up and assert himself by some +commanding gesture. But he did not. He remained seated, only his voice +had a vibrating quality though he obviously tried to restrain it, and +it travelled masterfully far into the silence. He spoke for a long time +while the sun climbing the unstained sky shifted the diminished shadows +of the trees, pouring on the heads of men its heat through the thick and +motionless foliage. Whenever murmurs arose he would stop and glancing +fearlessly at the assembly, wait till they subsided. Once or twice, they +rose to a loud hum and Mrs. Travers could hear on the other side of her +Jorgenson muttering something in his moustache. Beyond the rows of heads +Daman under the tree had folded his arms on his breast. The edge of +the white cloth concealed his forehead and at his feet the two Illanun +chiefs, half naked and bedecked with charms and ornaments of bright +feathers, of shells, with necklaces of teeth, claws, and shining beads, +remained cross-legged with their swords across their knees like two +bronze idols. Even the plumes of their head-dresses stirred not. + +“Sudah! It is finished!” A movement passed along all the heads, the +seated bodies swayed to and fro. Lingard had ceased speaking. He +remained seated for a moment looking his audience all over and when he +stood up together with Mrs. Travers and Jorgenson the whole assembly +rose from the ground together and lost its ordered formation. Some +of Belarab's retainers, young broad-faced fellows, wearing a sort of +uniform of check-patterned sarongs, black silk jackets and crimson +skull-caps set at a rakish angle, swaggered through the broken groups +and ranged themselves in two rows before the motionless Daman and his +Illanun chiefs in martial array. The members of the council who had +left their bench approached the white people with gentle smiles +and deferential movements of the hands. Their bearing was faintly +propitiatory; only the man in the big turban remained fanatically aloof, +keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. + +“I have done it,” murmured Lingard to Mrs. Travers.--“Was it very +difficult?” she asked.--“No,” he said, conscious in his heart that he +had strained to the fullest extent the prestige of his good name and +that habit of deference to his slightest wish established by the glamour +of his wealth and the fear of his personality in this great talk which +after all had done nothing except put off the decisive hour. He offered +Mrs. Travers his arm ready to lead her away, but at the last moment did +not move. + +With an authoritative gesture Daman had parted the ranks of Belarab's +young followers with the red skullcaps and was seen advancing toward the +whites striking into an astonished silence all the scattered groups in +the courtyard. But the broken ranks had closed behind him. The Illanun +chiefs, for all their truculent aspect, were much too prudent to attempt +to move. They had not needed for that the faint warning murmur from +Daman. He advanced alone. The plain hilt of a sword protruded from the +open edges of his cloak. The parted edges disclosed also the butts of +two flintlock pistols. The Koran in a velvet case hung on his breast by +a red cord of silk. He was pious, magnificent, and warlike, with calm +movements and a straight glance from under the hem of the simple piece +of linen covering his head. He carried himself rigidly and his bearing +had a sort of solemn modesty. Lingard said hurriedly to Mrs. Travers +that the man had met white people before and that, should he attempt to +shake hands with her, she ought to offer her own covered with the end +of her scarf.--“Why?” she asked. “Propriety?”--“Yes, it will be better,” + said Lingard and the next moment Mrs. Travers felt her enveloped hand +pressed gently by slender dark fingers and felt extremely Oriental +herself when, with her face muffled to the eyes, she encountered the +lustrous black stare of the sea-robbers' leader. It was only for an +instant, because Daman turned away at once to shake hands with Lingard. +In the straight, ample folds of his robes he looked very slender facing +the robust white man. + +“Great is your power,” he said, in a pleasant voice. “The white men are +going to be delivered to you.” + +“Yes, they pass into my keeping,” said Lingard, returning the other's +bright smile but otherwise looking grim enough with the frown which +had settled on his forehead at Daman's approach. He glanced over his +shoulder at a group of spearmen escorting the two captives who had come +down the steps from the hut. At the sight of Daman barring as it were +Lingard's way they had stopped at some distance and had closed round the +two white men. Daman also glanced dispassionately that way. + +“They were my guests,” he murmured. “Please God I shall come soon to ask +you for them . . . as a friend,” he added after a slight pause. + +“And please God you will not go away empty handed,” said Lingard, +smoothing his brow. “After all you and I were not meant to meet only +to quarrel. Would you have preferred to see them pass into Tengga's +keeping?” + +“Tengga is fat and full of wiles,” said Daman, disdainfully, “a mere +shopkeeper smitten by a desire to be a chief. He is nothing. But you and +I are men that have real power. Yet there is a truth that you and I can +confess to each other. Men's hearts grow quickly discontented. Listen. +The leaders of men are carried forward in the hands of their followers; +and common men's minds are unsteady, their desires changeable, and +their thoughts not to be trusted. You are a great chief they say. Do not +forget that I am a chief, too, and a leader of armed men.” + +“I have heard of you, too,” said Lingard in a composed voice. + +Daman had cast his eyes down. Suddenly he opened them very wide with an +effect that startled Mrs. Travers.--“Yes. But do you see?” Mrs. Travers, +her hand resting lightly on Lingard's arm, had the sensation of acting +in a gorgeously got up play on the brilliantly lighted stage of an +exotic opera whose accompaniment was not music but the varied strains +of the all-pervading silence.--“Yes, I see,” Lingard replied with a +surprisingly confidential intonation. “But power, too, is in the hands +of a great leader.” + +Mrs. Travers watched the faint movements of Daman's nostrils as though +the man were suffering from some powerful emotion, while under her +fingers Lingard's forearm in its white sleeve was as steady as a limb of +marble. Without looking at him she seemed to feel that with one movement +he could crush that nervous figure in which lived the breath of the +great desert haunted by his nomad, camel-riding ancestors.--“Power is +in the hand of God,” he said, all animation dying out of his face, and +paused to wait for Lingard's “Very true,” then continued with a fine +smile, “but He apportions it according to His will for His own purposes, +even to those that are not of the Faith.” + +“Such being the will of God you should harbour no bitterness against +them in your heart.” + +The low exclamation, “Against those!” and a slight dismissing gesture +of a meagre dark hand out of the folds of the cloak were almost +understandable to Mrs. Travers in the perfection of their melancholy +contempt, and gave Lingard a further insight into the character of +the ally secured to him by the diplomacy of Belarab. He was only half +reassured by this assumption of superior detachment. He trusted to the +man's self-interest more; for Daman no doubt looked to the reconquered +kingdom for the reward of dignity and ease. His father and grandfather +(the men of whom Jorgenson had written as having been hanged for an +example twelve years before) had been friends of Sultans, advisers of +Rulers, wealthy financiers of the great raiding expeditions of the +past. It was hatred that had turned Daman into a self-made outcast, +till Belarab's diplomacy had drawn him out from some obscure and uneasy +retreat. + +In a few words Lingard assured Daman of the complete safety of his +followers as long as they themselves made no attempt to get possession +of the stranded yacht. Lingard understood very well that the capture of +Travers and d'Alcacer was the result of a sudden fear, a move directed +by Daman to secure his own safety. The sight of the stranded yacht shook +his confidence completely. It was as if the secrets of the place had +been betrayed. After all, it was perhaps a great folly to trust any +white man, no matter how much he seemed estranged from his own people. +Daman felt he might have been the victim of a plot. Lingard's brig +appeared to him a formidable engine of war. He did not know what to +think and the motive for getting hold of the two white men was really +the wish to secure hostages. Distrusting the fierce impulses of his +followers he had hastened to put them into Belarab's keeping. But +everything in the Settlement seemed to him suspicious: Belarab's +absence, Jorgenson's refusal to make over at once the promised supply +of arms and ammunition. And now that white man had by the power of his +speech got them away from Belarab's people. So much influence filled +Daman with wonder and awe. A recluse for many years in the most obscure +corner of the Archipelago he felt himself surrounded by intrigues. But +the alliance was a great thing, too. He did not want to quarrel. He was +quite willing for the time being to accept Lingard's assurance that no +harm should befall his people encamped on the sandbanks. Attentive and +slight, he seemed to let Lingard's deliberate words sink into him. The +force of that unarmed big man seemed overwhelming. He bowed his head +slowly. + +“Allah is our refuge,” he murmured, accepting the inevitable. + +He delighted Mrs. Travers not as a living being but like a clever +sketch in colours, a vivid rendering of an artist's vision of some soul, +delicate and fierce. His bright half-smile was extraordinary, sharp like +clear steel, painfully penetrating. Glancing right and left Mrs. Travers +saw the whole courtyard smitten by the desolating fury of sunshine and +peopled with shadows, their forms and colours fading in the violence of +the light. The very brown tones of roof and wall dazzled the eye. Then +Daman stepped aside. He was no longer smiling and Mrs. Travers advanced +with her hand on Lingard's arm through a heat so potent that it seemed +to have a taste, a feel, a smell of its own. She moved on as if floating +in it with Lingard's support. + +“Where are they?” she asked. + +“They are following us all right,” he answered. Lingard was so certain +that the prisoners would be delivered to him on the beach that he never +glanced back till, after reaching the boat, he and Mrs. Travers turned +about. + +The group of spearmen parted right and left, and Mr. Travers and +d'Alcacer walked forward alone looking unreal and odd like their own +day-ghosts. Mr. Travers gave no sign of being aware of his wife's +presence. It was certainly a shock to him. But d'Alcacer advanced +smiling, as if the beach were a drawing room. + +With a very few paddlers the heavy old European-built boat moved +slowly over the water that seemed as pale and blazing as the sky above. +Jorgenson had perched himself in the bow. The other four white people +sat in the stern sheets, the ex-prisoners side by side in the middle. +Lingard spoke suddenly. + +“I want you both to understand that the trouble is not over yet. Nothing +is finished. You are out on my bare word.” + +While Lingard was speaking Mr. Travers turned his face away but +d'Alcacer listened courteously. Not another word was spoken for the rest +of the way. The two gentlemen went up the ship's side first. Lingard +remained to help Mrs. Travers at the foot of the ladder. She pressed his +hand strongly and looking down at his upturned face: + +“This was a wonderful success,” she said. + +For a time the character of his fascinated gaze did not change. It +was as if she had said nothing. Then he whispered, admiringly, “You +understand everything.” + +She moved her eyes away and had to disengage her hand to which he clung +for a moment, giddy, like a man falling out of the world. + + + +III + +Mrs. Travers, acutely aware of Lingard behind her, remained gazing over +the lagoon. After a time he stepped forward and placed himself beside +her close to the rail. She went on staring at the sheet of water turned +to deep purple under the sunset sky. + +“Why have you been avoiding me since we came back from the stockade?” + she asked in a deadened voice. + +“There is nothing to tell you till Rajah Hassim and his sister Immada +return with some news,” Lingard answered in the same tone. “Has my +friend succeeded? Will Belarab listen to any arguments? Will he consent +to come out of his shell? Is he on his way back? I wish I knew! . . . +Not a whisper comes from there! He may have started two days ago and +he may be now near the outskirts of the Settlement. Or he may have gone +into camp half way down, from some whim or other; or he may be already +arrived for all I know. We should not have seen him. The road from the +hills does not lead along the beach.” + +He snatched nervously at the long glass and directed it at the dark +stockade. The sun had sunk behind the forests leaving the contour of the +tree-tops outlined by a thread of gold under a band of delicate green +lying across the lower sky. Higher up a faint crimson glow faded into +the darkened blue overhead. The shades of the evening deepened over the +lagoon, clung to the sides of the Emma and to the forms of the further +shore. Lingard laid the glass down. + +“Mr. d'Alcacer, too, seems to have been avoiding me,” said Mrs. Travers. +“You are on very good terms with him, Captain Lingard.” + +“He is a very pleasant man,” murmured Lingard, absently. “But he says +funny things sometimes. He inquired the other day if there were any +playing cards on board, and when I asked him if he liked card-playing, +just for something to say, he told me with that queer smile of his that +he had read a story of some people condemned to death who passed the +time before execution playing card games with their guards.” + +“And what did you say?” + +“I told him that there were probably cards on board somewhere--Jorgenson +would know. Then I asked him whether he looked on me as a gaoler. He was +quite startled and sorry for what he said.” + +“It wasn't very kind of you, Captain Lingard.” + +“It slipped out awkwardly and we made it up with a laugh.” + +Mrs. Travers leaned her elbows on the rail and put her head into her +hands. Every attitude of that woman surprised Lingard by its enchanting +effect upon himself. He sighed, and the silence lasted for a long while. + +“I wish I had understood every word that was said that morning.” + +“That morning,” repeated Lingard. “What morning do you mean?” + +“I mean the morning when I walked out of Belarab's stockade on your arm, +Captain Lingard, at the head of the procession. It seemed to me that I +was walking on a splendid stage in a scene from an opera, in a gorgeous +show fit to make an audience hold its breath. You can't possibly guess +how unreal all this seemed, and how artificial I felt myself. An opera, +you know. . . .” + +“I know. I was a gold digger at one time. Some of us used to come down +to Melbourne with our pockets full of money. I daresay it was poor +enough to what you must have seen, but once I went to a show like that. +It was a story acted to music. All the people went singing through it +right to the very end.” + +“How it must have jarred on your sense of reality,” said Mrs. Travers, +still not looking at him. “You don't remember the name of the opera?” + +“No. I never troubled my head about it. We--our lot never did.” + +“I won't ask you what the story was like. It must have appeared to +you like the very defiance of all truth. Would real people go singing +through their life anywhere except in a fairy tale?” + +“These people didn't always sing for joy,” said Lingard, simply. “I +don't know much about fairy tales.” + +“They are mostly about princesses,” murmured Mrs. Travers. + +Lingard didn't quite hear. He bent his ear for a moment but she wasn't +looking at him and he didn't ask her to repeat her remark. “Fairy tales +are for children, I believe,” he said. “But that story with music I am +telling you of, Mrs. Travers, was not a tale for children. I assure you +that of the few shows I have seen that one was the most real to me. More +real than anything in life.” + +Mrs. Travers, remembering the fatal inanity of most opera librettos, was +touched by these words as if there had been something pathetic in this +readiness of response; as if she had heard a starved man talking of the +delight of a crust of dry bread. “I suppose you forgot yourself in that +story, whatever it was,” she remarked in a detached tone. + +“Yes, it carried me away. But I suppose you know the feeling.” + +“No. I never knew anything of the kind, not even when I was a chit of +a girl.” Lingard seemed to accept this statement as an assertion of +superiority. He inclined his head slightly. Moreover, she might have +said what she liked. What pleased him most was her not looking at him; +for it enabled him to contemplate with perfect freedom the curve of her +cheek, her small ear half hidden by the clear mesh of fine hair, +the fascination of her uncovered neck. And her whole person was an +impossible, an amazing and solid marvel which somehow was not so much +convincing to the eye as to something within him that was apparently +independent of his senses. Not even for a moment did he think of her as +remote. Untouchable--possibly! But remote--no. Whether consciously or +unconsciously he took her spiritually for granted. It was materially +that she was a wonder of the sort that is at the same time familiar and +sacred. + +“No,” Mrs. Travers began again, abruptly. “I never forgot myself in a +story. It was not in me. I have not even been able to forget myself on +that morning on shore which was part of my own story.” + +“You carried yourself first rate,” said Lingard, smiling at the nape of +her neck, her ear, the film of escaped hair, the modelling of the corner +of her eye. He could see the flutter of the dark eyelashes: and the +delicate flush on her cheek had rather the effect of scent than of +colour. + +“You approved of my behaviour.” + +“Just right, I tell you. My word, weren't they all struck of a heap when +they made out what you were.” + +“I ought to feel flattered. I will confess to you that I felt only half +disguised and was half angry and wholly uncomfortable. What helped me, I +suppose, was that I wanted to please. . . .” + +“I don't mean to say that they were exactly pleased,” broke in Lingard, +conscientiously. “They were startled more.” + +“I wanted to please you,” dropped Mrs. Travers, negligently. A faint, +hoarse, and impatient call of a bird was heard from the woods as if +calling to the oncoming night. Lingard's face grew hot in the deepening +dusk. The delicate lemon yellow and ethereal green tints had vanished +from the sky and the red glow darkened menacingly. The sun had set +behind the black pall of the forest, no longer edged with a line of +gold. “Yes, I was absurdly self-conscious,” continued Mrs. Travers in a +conversational tone. “And it was the effect of these clothes that you +made me put on over some of my European--I almost said disguise; because +you know in the present more perfect costume I feel curiously at home; +and yet I can't say that these things really fit me. The sleeves of this +silk under-jacket are rather tight. My shoulders feel bound, too, and as +to the sarong it is scandalously short. According to rule it should have +been long enough to fall over my feet. But I like freedom of movement. I +have had very little of what I liked in life.” + +“I can hardly believe that,” said Lingard. “If it wasn't for your saying +so. . . .” + +“I wouldn't say so to everybody,” she said, turning her head for a +moment to Lingard and turning it away again to the dusk which seemed to +come floating over the black lagoon. Far away in its depth a couple of +feeble lights twinkled; it was impossible to say whether on the shore +or on the edge of the more distant forest. Overhead the stars were +beginning to come out, but faint yet, as if too remote to be reflected +in the lagoon. Only to the west a setting planet shone through the red +fog of the sunset glow. “It was supposed not to be good for me to have +much freedom of action. So at least I was told. But I have a suspicion +that it was only unpleasing to other people.” + +“I should have thought,” began Lingard, then hesitated and stopped. It +seemed to him inconceivable that everybody should not have loved to make +that woman happy. And he was impressed by the bitterness of her tone. +Mrs. Travers did not seem curious to know what he wanted to say and +after a time she added, “I don't mean only when I was a child. I don't +remember that very well. I daresay I was very objectionable as a child.” + +Lingard tried to imagine her as a child. The idea was novel to him. +Her perfection seemed to have come into the world complete, mature, and +without any hesitation or weakness. He had nothing in his experience +that could help him to imagine a child of that class. The children he +knew played about the village street and ran on the beach. He had been +one of them. He had seen other children, of course, since, but he +had not been in touch with them except visually and they had not been +English children. Her childhood, like his own, had been passed in +England, and that very fact made it almost impossible for him to imagine +it. He could not even tell whether it was in town or in the country, or +whether as a child she had even seen the sea. And how could a child of +that kind be objectionable? But he remembered that a child disapproved +of could be very unhappy, and he said: + +“I am sorry.” + +Mrs. Travers laughed a little. Within the muslin cage forms had turned +to blurred shadows. Amongst them the form of d'Alcacer arose and moved. +The systematic or else the morbid dumbness of Mr. Travers bored and +exasperated him, though, as a matter of fact, that gentleman's speeches +had never had the power either to entertain or to soothe his mind. + +“It's very nice of you. You have a great capacity for sympathy, but +after all I am not certain on which side your sympathies lie. With me, +or those much-tried people,” said Mrs. Travers. + +“With the child,” said Lingard, disregarding the bantering tone. “A +child can have a very bad time of it all to itself.” + +“What can you know of it?” she asked. + +“I have my own feelings,” he answered in some surprise. + +Mrs. Travers, with her back to him, was covered with confusion. Neither +could she depict to herself his childhood as if he, too, had come +into the world in the fullness of his strength and his purpose. She +discovered a certain naiveness in herself and laughed a little. He made +no sound. + +“Don't be angry,” she said. “I wouldn't dream of laughing at your +feelings. Indeed your feelings are the most serious thing that ever came +in my way. I couldn't help laughing at myself--at a funny discovery I +made.” + +“In the days of your childhood?” she heard Lingard's deep voice asking +after a pause. + +“Oh, no. Ages afterward. No child could have made that discovery. Do +you know the greatest difference there is between us? It is this: That I +have been living since my childhood in front of a show and that I +never have been taken in for a moment by its tinsel and its noise or +by anything that went on on the stage. Do you understand what I mean, +Captain Lingard?” + +There was a moment of silence. “What does it matter? We are no children +now.” There was an infinite gentleness in Lingard's deep tones. “But if +you have been unhappy then don't tell me that it has not been made up to +you since. Surely you have only to make a sign. A woman like you.” + +“You think I could frighten the whole world on to its knees?” + +“No, not frighten.” The suggestion of a laugh in the deadened voice +passed off in a catch of the breath. Then he was heard beginning +soberly: “Your husband. . . .” He hesitated a little and she took the +opportunity to say coldly: + +“His name is Mr. Travers.” + +Lingard didn't know how to take it. He imagined himself to have been +guilty of some sort of presumption. But how on earth was he to call the +man? After all he was her husband. That idea was disagreeable to him +because the man was also inimical in a particularly unreasonable and +galling manner. At the same time he was aware that he didn't care a +bit for his enmity and had an idea that he would not have cared for his +friendship either. And suddenly he felt very much annoyed. + +“Yes. That's the man I mean,” he said in a contemptuous tone. “I don't +particularly like the name and I am sure I don't want to talk about him +more than I can help. If he hadn't been your husband I wouldn't have put +up with his manners for an hour. Do you know what would have happened to +him if he hadn't been your husband?” + +“No,” said Mrs. Travers. “Do you, Captain Lingard?” + +“Not exactly,” he admitted. “Something he wouldn't have liked, you may +be sure.” + +“While of course he likes this very much,” she observed. Lingard gave an +abrupt laugh. + +“I don't think it's in my power to do anything that he would like,” he +said in a serious tone. “Forgive me my frankness, Mrs. Travers, but he +makes it very difficult sometimes for me to keep civil. Whatever I have +had to put up with in life I have never had to put up with contempt.” + +“I quite believe that,” said Mrs. Travers. “Don't your friends call you +King Tom?” + +“Nobody that I care for. I have no friends. Oh, yes, they call me +that . . .” + +“You have no friends?” + +“Not I,” he said with decision. “A man like me has no chums.” + +“It's quite possible,” murmured Mrs. Travers to herself. + +“No, not even Jorgenson. Old crazy Jorgenson. He calls me King Tom, too. +You see what that's worth.” + +“Yes, I see. Or rather I have heard. That poor man has no tone, and so +much depends on that. Now suppose I were to call you King Tom now +and then between ourselves,” Mrs. Travers' voice proposed, distantly +tentative in the night that invested her person with a colourless +vagueness of form. + +She waited in the stillness, her elbows on the rail and her face in her +hands as if she had already forgotten what she had said. She heard at +her elbow the deep murmur of: + +“Let's hear you say it.” + +She never moved the least bit. The sombre lagoon sparkled faintly with +the reflection of the stars. + +“Oh, yes, I will let you hear it,” she said into the starlit space in a +voice of unaccented gentleness which changed subtly as she went on. “I +hope you will never regret that you came out of your friendless mystery +to speak to me, King Tom. How many days ago it was! And here is another +day gone. Tell me how many more of them there must be? Of these blinding +days and nights without a sound.” + +“Be patient,” he murmured. “Don't ask me for the impossible.” + +“How do you or I know what is possible?” she whispered with a strange +scorn. “You wouldn't dare guess. But I tell you that every day that +passes is more impossible to me than the day before.” + +The passion of that whisper went like a stab into his breast. “What am +I to tell you?” he murmured, as if with despair. “Remember that every +sunset makes it a day less. Do you think I want you here?” + +A bitter little laugh floated out into the starlight. Mrs. Travers heard +Lingard move suddenly away from her side. She didn't change her pose by +a hair's breadth. Presently she heard d'Alcacer coming out of the Cage. +His cultivated voice asked half playfully: + +“Have you had a satisfactory conversation? May I be told something of +it?” + +“Mr. d'Alcacer, you are curious.” + +“Well, in our position, I confess. . . . You are our only refuge, +remember.” + +“You want to know what we were talking about,” said Mrs. Travers, +altering slowly her position so as to confront d'Alcacer whose face was +almost undistinguishable. “Oh, well, then, we talked about opera, the +realities and illusions of the stage, of dresses, of people's names, and +things of that sort.” + +“Nothing of importance,” he said courteously. Mrs. Travers moved forward +and he stepped to one side. Inside the Cage two Malay hands were hanging +round lanterns, the light of which fell on Mr. Travers' bowed head as he +sat in his chair. + +When they were all assembled for the evening meal Jorgenson strolled up +from nowhere in particular as his habit was, and speaking through the +muslin announced that Captain Lingard begged to be excused from joining +the company that evening. Then he strolled away. From that moment till +they got up from the table and the camp bedsteads were brought in not +twenty words passed between the members of the party within the net. The +strangeness of their situation made all attempts to exchange ideas very +arduous; and apart from that each had thoughts which it was distinctly +useless to communicate to the others. Mr. Travers had abandoned himself +to his sense of injury. He did not so much brood as rage inwardly in +a dull, dispirited way. The impossibility of asserting himself in any +manner galled his very soul. D'Alcacer was extremely puzzled. Detached +in a sense from the life of men perhaps as much even as Jorgenson +himself, he took yet a reasonable interest in the course of events and +had not lost all his sense of self-preservation. Without being able to +appreciate the exact values of the situation he was not one of those men +who are ever completely in the dark in any given set of circumstances. +Without being humorous he was a good-humoured man. His habitual, gentle +smile was a true expression. More of a European than of a Spaniard he +had that truly aristocratic nature which is inclined to credit every +honest man with something of its own nobility and in its judgment is +altogether independent of class feeling. He believed Lingard to be an +honest man and he never troubled his head to classify him, except in +the sense that he found him an interesting character. He had a sort of +esteem for the outward personality and the bearing of that seaman. He +found in him also the distinction of being nothing of a type. He was a +specimen to be judged only by its own worth. With his natural gift of +insight d'Alcacer told himself that many overseas adventurers of history +were probably less worthy because obviously they must have been less +simple. He didn't, however, impart those thoughts formally to Mrs. +Travers. In fact he avoided discussing Lingard with Mrs. Travers who, he +thought, was quite intelligent enough to appreciate the exact shade of +his attitude. If that shade was fine, Mrs. Travers was fine, too; and +there was no need to discuss the colours of this adventure. Moreover, +she herself seemed to avoid all direct discussion of the Lingard element +in their fate. D'Alcacer was fine enough to be aware that those two +seemed to understand each other in a way that was not obvious even to +themselves. Whenever he saw them together he was always much tempted to +observe them. And he yielded to the temptation. The fact of one's +life depending on the phases of an obscure action authorizes a certain +latitude of behaviour. He had seen them together repeatedly, communing +openly or apart, and there was in their way of joining each other, +in their poses and their ways of separating, something special and +characteristic and pertaining to themselves only, as if they had been +made for each other. + +What he couldn't understand was why Mrs. Travers should have put off his +natural curiosity as to her latest conference with the Man of Fate by +an incredible statement as to the nature of the conversation. Talk about +dresses, opera, people's names. He couldn't take this seriously. She +might have invented, he thought, something more plausible; or simply +have told him that this was not for him to know. She ought to have known +that he would not have been offended. Couldn't she have seen already +that he accepted the complexion of mystery in her relation to that man +completely, unquestionably; as though it had been something preordained +from the very beginning of things? But he was not annoyed with Mrs. +Travers. After all it might have been true. She would talk exactly as +she liked, and even incredibly, if it so pleased her, and make the man +hang on her lips. And likewise she was capable of making the man talk +about anything by a power of inspiration for reasons simple or perverse. +Opera! Dresses! Yes--about Shakespeare and the musical glasses! For a +mere whim or for the deepest purpose. Women worthy of the name were like +that. They were very wonderful. They rose to the occasion and sometimes +above the occasion when things were bound to occur that would be comic +or tragic (as it happened) but generally charged with trouble even to +innocent beholders. D'Alcacer thought these thoughts without bitterness +and even without irony. With his half-secret social reputation as a man +of one great passion in a world of mere intrigues he liked all women. +He liked them in their sentiment and in their hardness, in the tragic +character of their foolish or clever impulses, at which he looked with a +sort of tender seriousness. + +He didn't take a favourable view of the position but he considered Mrs. +Travers' statement about operas and dresses as a warning to keep off the +subject. For this reason he remained silent through the meal. + +When the bustle of clearing away the table was over he strolled toward +Mrs. Travers and remarked very quietly: + +“I think that in keeping away from us this evening the Man of Fate was +well inspired. We dined like a lot of Carthusian monks.” + +“You allude to our silence?” + +“It was most scrupulous. If we had taken an eternal vow we couldn't have +kept it better.” + +“Did you feel bored?” + +“Pas du tout,” d'Alcacer assured her with whimsical gravity. “I felt +nothing. I sat in a state of blessed vacuity. I believe I was the +happiest of us three. Unless you, too, Mrs. Travers. . . .” + +“It's absolutely no use your fishing for my thoughts, Mr. d'Alcacer. If +I were to let you see them you would be appalled.” + +“Thoughts really are but a shape of feelings. Let me congratulate you +on the impassive mask you can put on those horrors you say you nurse in +your breast. It was impossible to tell anything by your face.” + +“You will always say flattering things.” + +“Madame, my flatteries come from the very bottom of my heart. I have +given up long ago all desire to please. And I was not trying to get at +your thoughts. Whatever else you may expect from me you may count on my +absolute respect for your privacy. But I suppose with a mask such as you +can make for yourself you really don't care. The Man of Fate, I noticed, +is not nearly as good at it as you are.” + +“What a pretentious name. Do you call him by it to his face, Mr. +d'Alcacer?” + +“No, I haven't the cheek,” confessed d'Alcacer, equably. “And, besides, +it's too momentous for daily use. And he is so simple that he might +mistake it for a joke and nothing could be further from my thoughts. +Mrs. Travers, I will confess to you that I don't feel jocular in the +least. But what can he know about people of our sort? And when I reflect +how little people of our sort can know of such a man I am quite content +to address him as Captain Lingard. It's common and soothing and most +respectable and satisfactory; for Captain is the most empty of all +titles. What is a Captain? Anybody can be a Captain; and for Lingard +it's a name like any other. Whereas what he deserves is something +special, significant, and expressive, that would match his person, his +simple and romantic person.” + +He perceived that Mrs. Travers was looking at him intently. They +hastened to turn their eyes away from each other. + +“He would like your appreciation,” Mrs. Travers let drop negligently. + +“I am afraid he would despise it.” + +“Despise it! Why, that sort of thing is the very breath of his +nostrils.” + +“You seem to understand him, Mrs. Travers. Women have a singular +capacity for understanding. I mean subjects that interest them; because +when their imagination is stimulated they are not afraid of letting it +go. A man is more mistrustful of himself, but women are born much +more reckless. They push on and on under the protection of secrecy and +silence, and the greater the obscurity of what they wish to explore the +greater their courage.” + +“Do you mean seriously to tell me that you consider me a creature of +darkness?” + +“I spoke in general,” remonstrated d'Alcacer. “Anything else would +have been an impertinence. Yes, obscurity is women's best friend. Their +daring loves it; but a sudden flash of light disconcerts them. Generally +speaking, if they don't get exactly at the truth they always manage to +come pretty near to it.” + +Mrs. Travers had listened with silent attention and she allowed the +silence to continue for some time after d'Alcacer had ceased. When she +spoke it was to say in an unconcerned tone that as to this subject she +had had special opportunities. Her self-possessed interlocutor +managed to repress a movement of real curiosity under an assumption +of conventional interest. “Indeed,” he exclaimed, politely. “A special +opportunity. How did you manage to create it?” + +This was too much for Mrs. Travers. “I! Create it!” she exclaimed, +indignantly, but under her breath. “How on earth do you think I could +have done it?” + +Mr. d'Alcacer, as if communing with himself, was heard to murmur +unrepentantly that indeed women seldom knew how they had “done it,” to +which Mrs. Travers in a weary tone returned the remark that no two +men were dense in the same way. To this Mr. d'Alcacer assented without +difficulty. “Yes, our brand presents more varieties. This, from a +certain point of view, is obviously to our advantage. We interest. . . . +Not that I imagine myself interesting to you, Mrs. Travers. But what +about the Man of Fate?” + +“Oh, yes,” breathed out Mrs. Travers. + +“I see! Immensely!” said d'Alcacer in a tone of mysterious +understanding. “Was his stupidity so colossal?” + +“It was indistinguishable from great visions that were in no sense mean +and made up for him a world of his own.” + +“I guessed that much,” muttered d'Alcacer to himself. “But that, you +know, Mrs. Travers, that isn't good news at all to me. World of dreams, +eh? That's very bad, very dangerous. It's almost fatal, Mrs. Travers.” + +“Why all this dismay? Why do you object to a world of dreams?” + +“Because I dislike the prospect of being made a sacrifice of by those +Moors. I am not an optimist like our friend there,” he continued in a +low tone nodding toward the dismal figure of Mr. Travers huddled up in +the chair. “I don't regard all this as a farce and I have discovered +in myself a strong objection to having my throat cut by those gorgeous +barbarians after a lot of fatuous talk. Don't ask me why, Mrs. Travers. +Put it down to an absurd weakness.” + +Mrs. Travers made a slight movement in her chair, raising her hands to +her head, and in the dim light of the lanterns d'Alcacer saw the mass of +her clear gleaming hair fall down and spread itself over her shoulders. +She seized half of it in her hands which looked very white, and with her +head inclined a little on one side she began to make a plait. + +“You are terrifying,” he said after watching the movement of her fingers +for a while. + +“Yes . . . ?” she accentuated interrogatively. + +“You have the awfulness of the predestined. You, too, are the prey of +dreams.” + +“Not of the Moors, then,” she uttered, calmly, beginning the other +plait. D'Alcacer followed the operation to the end. Close against her, +her diaphanous shadow on the muslin reproduced her slightest movements. +D'Alcacer turned his eyes away. + +“No! No barbarian shall touch you. Because if it comes to that I believe +_he_ would be capable of killing you himself.” + +A minute elapsed before he stole a glance in her direction. She was +leaning back again, her hands had fallen on her lap and her head with a +plait of hair on each side of her face, her head incredibly changed in +character and suggesting something medieval, ascetic, drooped dreamily +on her breast. + +D'Alcacer waited, holding his breath. She didn't move. In the dim gleam +of jewelled clasps, the faint sheen of gold embroideries and the shimmer +of silks, she was like a figure in a faded painting. Only her neck +appeared dazzlingly white in the smoky redness of the light. D'Alcacer's +wonder approached a feeling of awe. He was on the point of moving away +quietly when Mrs. Travers, without stirring in the least, let him hear +the words: + +“I have told him that every day seemed more difficult to live. Don't you +see how impossible this is?” + +D'Alcacer glanced rapidly across the Cage where Mr. Travers seemed to +be asleep all in a heap and presenting a ruffled appearance like a sick +bird. Nothing was distinct of him but the bald patch on the top of his +head. + +“Yes,” he murmured, “it is most unfortunate. . . . I understand your +anxiety, Mrs. Travers, but . . .” + +“I am frightened,” she said. + +He reflected a moment. “What answer did you get?” he asked, softly. + +“The answer was: 'Patience.'” + +D'Alcacer laughed a little.--“You may well laugh,” murmured Mrs. Travers +in a tone of anguish.--“That's why I did,” he whispered. “Patience! +Didn't he see the horror of it?”--“I don't know. He walked away,” said +Mrs. Travers. She looked immovably at her hands clasped in her lap, +and then with a burst of distress, “Mr. d'Alcacer, what is going to +happen?”--“Ah, you are asking yourself the question at last. _That_ +will happen which cannot be avoided; and perhaps you know best what it +is.”--“No. I am still asking myself what he will do.”--“Ah, that is not +for me to know,” declared d'Alcacer. “I can't tell you what he will do, +but I know what will happen to him.”--“To him, you say! To him!” she +cried.--“He will break his heart,” said d'Alcacer, distinctly, bending +a little over the chair with a slight gasp at his own audacity--and +waited. + +“Croyez-vous?” came at last from Mrs. Travers in an accent so coldly +languid that d'Alcacer felt a shudder run down his spine. + +Was it possible that she was that kind of woman, he asked himself. +Did she see nothing in the world outside herself? Was she above the +commonest kind of compassion? He couldn't suspect Mrs. Travers of +stupidity; but she might have been heartless and, like some women of +her class, quite unable to recognize any emotion in the world except her +own. D'Alcacer was shocked and at the same time he was relieved because +he confessed to himself that he had ventured very far. However, in her +humanity she was not vulgar enough to be offended. She was not the slave +of small meannesses. This thought pleased d'Alcacer who had schooled +himself not to expect too much from people. But he didn't know what to +do next. After what he had ventured to say and after the manner in +which she had met his audacity the only thing to do was to change the +conversation. Mrs. Travers remained perfectly still. “I will pretend +that I think she is asleep,” he thought to himself, meditating a retreat +on tip-toe. + +He didn't know that Mrs. Travers was simply trying to recover the full +command of her faculties. His words had given her a terrible shock. +After managing to utter this defensive “croyez-vous” which came out of +her lips cold and faint as if in a last effort of dying strength, she +felt herself turn rigid and speechless. She was thinking, stiff all over +with emotion: “D'Alcacer has seen it! How much more has he been able to +see?” She didn't ask herself that question in fear or shame but with +a reckless resignation. Out of that shock came a sensation of peace. A +glowing warmth passed through all her limbs. If d'Alcacer had peered +by that smoky light into her face he might have seen on her lips a +fatalistic smile come and go. But d'Alcacer would not have dreamed of +doing such a thing, and, besides, his attention just then was drawn in +another direction. He had heard subdued exclamations, had noticed a stir +on the decks of the Emma, and even some sort of noise outside the ship. + +“These are strange sounds,” he said. + +“Yes, I hear,” Mrs. Travers murmured, uneasily. + +Vague shapes glided outside the Cage, barefooted, almost noiseless, +whispering Malay words secretly. + +“It seems as though a boat had come alongside,” observed d'Alcacer, +lending an attentive ear. “I wonder what it means. In our +position. . . .” + +“It may mean anything,” interrupted Mrs. Travers. + +“Jaffir is here,” said a voice in the darkness of the after end of the +ship. Then there were some more words in which d'Alcacer's attentive ear +caught the word “surat.” + +“A message of some sort has come,” he said. “They will be calling +Captain Lingard. I wonder what thoughts or what dreams this call will +interrupt.” He spoke lightly, looking now at Mrs. Travers who had +altered her position in the chair; and by their tones and attitudes +these two might have been on board the yacht sailing the sea in perfect +safety. “You, of course, are the one who will be told. Don't you feel a +sort of excitement, Mrs. Travers?” + +“I have been lately exhorted to patience,” she said in the same easy +tone. “I can wait and I imagine I shall have to wait till the morning.” + +“It can't be very late yet,” he said. “Time with us has been standing +still for ever so long. And yet this may be the hour of fate.” + +“Is this the feeling you have at this particular moment?” + +“I have had that feeling for a considerable number of moments already. +At first it was exciting. Now I am only moderately anxious. I have +employed my time in going over all my past life.” + +“Can one really do that?” + +“Yes. I can't say I have been bored to extinction. I am still alive, as +you see; but I have done with that and I feel extremely idle. There is +only one thing I would like to do. I want to find a few words that could +convey to you my gratitude for all your friendliness in the past, at the +time when you let me see so much of you in London. I felt always +that you took me on my own terms and that so kindly that often I felt +inclined to think better of myself. But I am afraid I am wearying you, +Mrs. Travers.” + +“I assure you you have never done that--in the past. And as to the +present moment I beg you not to go away. Stay by me please. We are not +going to pretend that we are sleepy at this early hour.” + +D'Alcacer brought a stool close to the long chair and sat down on it. +“Oh, yes, the possible hour of fate,” he said. “I have a request to +make, Mrs. Travers. I don't ask you to betray anything. What would be +the good? The issue when it comes will be plain enough. But I should +like to get a warning, just something that would give me time to pull +myself together, to compose myself as it were. I want you to promise me +that if the balance tips against us you will give me a sign. You could, +for instance, seize the opportunity when I am looking at you to put your +left hand to your forehead like this. It is a gesture that I have never +seen you make, and so. . . .” + +“Jorgenson!” Lingard's voice was heard forward where the light of a +lantern appeared suddenly. Then, after a pause, Lingard was heard again: +“Here!” + +Then the silent minutes began to go by. Mrs. Travers reclining in her +chair and d'Alcacer sitting on the stool waited motionless without a +word. Presently through the subdued murmurs and agitation pervading the +dark deck of the Emma Mrs. Travers heard a firm footstep, and, lantern +in hand, Lingard appeared outside the muslin cage. + +“Will you come out and speak to me?” he said, loudly. “Not you. The +lady,” he added in an authoritative tone as d'Alcacer rose hastily from +the stool. “I want Mrs. Travers.” + +“Of course,” muttered d'Alcacer to himself and as he opened the door of +the Cage to let Mrs. Travers slip through he whispered to her, “This is +the hour of fate.” + +She brushed past him swiftly without the slightest sign that she had +heard the words. On the after deck between the Cage and the deckhouse +Lingard waited, lantern in hand. Nobody else was visible about; but +d'Alcacer felt in the air the presence of silent and excited beings +hovering outside the circle of light. Lingard raised the lantern as Mrs. +Travers approached and d'Alcacer heard him say: + +“I have had news which you ought to know. Let us go into the deckhouse.” + +D'Alcacer saw their heads lighted up by the raised lantern surrounded by +the depths of shadow with an effect of a marvellous and symbolic vision. +He heard Mrs. Travers say “I would rather not hear your news,” in a +tone that made that sensitive observer purse up his lips in wonder. He +thought that she was over-wrought, that the situation had grown too much +for her nerves. But this was not the tone of a frightened person. It +flashed through his mind that she had become self-conscious, and there +he stopped in his speculation. That friend of women remained discreet +even in his thoughts. He stepped backward further into the Cage and +without surprise saw Mrs. Travers follow Lingard into the deckhouse. + + + +IV + +Lingard stood the lantern on the table. Its light was very poor. He +dropped on to the sea-chest heavily. He, too, was over-wrought. His +flannel shirt was open at the neck. He had a broad belt round his waist +and was without his jacket. Before him, Mrs. Travers, straight and tall +in the gay silks, cottons, and muslins of her outlandish dress, with the +ends of the scarf thrown over her head, hanging down in front of her, +looked dimly splendid and with a black glance out of her white face. He +said: + +“Do you, too, want to throw me over? I tell you you can't do that now.” + +“I wasn't thinking of throwing you over, but I don't even know what you +mean. There seem to be no end of things I can't do. Hadn't you better +tell me of something that I could do? Have you any idea yourself what +you want from me?” + +“You can let me look at you. You can listen to me. You can speak to me.” + +“Frankly, I have never shirked doing all those things, whenever you +wanted me to. You have led me . . .” + +“I led you!” cried Lingard. + +“Oh! It was my fault,” she said, without anger. “I must have dreamed +then that it was you who came to me in the dark with the tale of your +impossible life. Could I have sent you away?” + +“I wish you had. Why didn't you?” + +“Do you want me to tell you that you were irresistible? How could I have +sent you away? But you! What made you come back to me with your very +heart on your lips?” + +When Lingard spoke after a time it was in jerky sentences. + +“I didn't stop to think. I had been hurt. I didn't think of you people +as ladies and gentlemen. I thought of you as people whose lives I held +in my hand. How was it possible to forget you in my trouble? It is your +face that I brought back with me on board my brig. I don't know why. I +didn't look at you more than at anybody else. It took me all my time to +keep my temper down lest it should burn you all up. I didn't want to be +rude to you people, but I found it wasn't very easy because threats were +the only argument I had. Was I very offensive, Mrs. Travers?” + +She had listened tense and very attentive, almost stern. And it was +without the slightest change of expression that she said: + +“I think that you bore yourself appropriately to the state of life to +which it has pleased God to call you.” + +“What state?” muttered Lingard to himself. “I am what I am. They call me +Rajah Laut, King Tom, and such like. I think it amused you to hear it, +but I can tell you it is no joke to have such names fastened on one, +even in fun. And those very names have in them something which makes all +this affair here no small matter to anybody.” + +She stood before him with a set, severe face.--“Did you call me out +in this alarming manner only to quarrel with me?”--“No, but why do you +choose this time to tell me that my coming for help to you was nothing +but impudence in your sight? Well, I beg your pardon for intruding +on your dignity.”--“You misunderstood me,” said Mrs. Travers, without +relaxing for a moment her contemplative severity. “Such a flattering +thing had never happened to me before and it will never happen to me +again. But believe me, King Tom, you did me too much honour. Jorgenson +is perfectly right in being angry with you for having taken a woman in +tow.”--“He didn't mean to be rude,” protested Lingard, earnestly. Mrs. +Travers didn't even smile at this intrusion of a point of manners into +the atmosphere of anguish and suspense that seemed always to arise +between her and this man who, sitting on the sea-chest, had raised his +eyes to her with an air of extreme candour and seemed unable to take +them off again. She continued to look at him sternly by a tremendous +effort of will. + +“How changed you are,” he murmured. + +He was lost in the depths of the simplest wonder. She appeared to him +vengeful and as if turned forever into stone before his bewildered +remorse. Forever. Suddenly Mrs. Travers looked round and sat down in the +chair. Her strength failed her but she remained austere with her hands +resting on the arms of her seat. Lingard sighed deeply and dropped +his eyes. She did not dare relax her muscles for fear of breaking down +altogether and betraying a reckless impulse which lurked at the bottom +of her dismay, to seize the head of d'Alcacer's Man of Fate, press it +to her breast once, fling it far away, and vanish herself, vanish out +of life like a wraith. The Man of Fate sat silent and bowed, yet with +a suggestion of strength in his dejection. “If I don't speak,” Mrs. +Travers said to herself, with great inward calmness, “I shall burst into +tears.” She said aloud, “What could have happened? What have you dragged +me in here for? Why don't you tell me your news?” + +“I thought you didn't want to hear. I believe you really don't want to. +What is all this to you? I believe that you don't care anything about +what I feel, about what I do and how I end. I verily believe that you +don't care how you end yourself. I believe you never cared for your own +or anybody's feelings. I don't think it is because you are hard, I think +it is because you don't know, and don't want to know, and are angry with +life.” + +He flourished an arm recklessly, and Mrs. Travers noticed for the first +time that he held a sheet of paper in his hand. + +“Is that your news there?” she asked, significantly. “It's difficult to +imagine that in this wilderness writing can have any significance. And +who on earth here could send you news on paper? Will you let me see it? +Could I understand it? Is it in English? Come, King Tom, don't look at +me in this awful way.” + +She got up suddenly, not in indignation, but as if at the end of her +endurance. The jewelled clasps, the gold embroideries, gleamed elusively +amongst the folds of her draperies which emitted a mysterious rustle. + +“I can't stand this,” she cried. “I can't stand being looked at like +this. No woman could stand it. No woman has ever been looked at like +this. What can you see? Hatred I could understand. What is it you think +me capable of?” + +“You are very extraordinary,” murmured Lingard, who had regained his +self-possession before that outburst. + +“Very well, and you are extraordinary, too. That's understood--here we +are both under that curse and having to face together whatever may turn +up. But who on earth could have sent you this writing?” + +“Who?” repeated Lingard. “Why, that young fellow that blundered on my +brig in the dark, bringing a boatload of trouble alongside on that +quiet night in Carimata Straits. The darkest night I have ever known. An +accursed night.” + +Mrs. Travers bit her lip, waited a little, then asked quietly: + +“What difficulty has he got into now?” + +“Difficulty!” cried Lingard. “He is immensely pleased with himself, the +young fool. You know, when you sent him to talk to me that evening you +left the yacht, he came with a loaded pistol in his pocket. And now he +has gone and done it.” + +“Done it?” repeated Mrs. Travers blankly. “Done what?” + +She snatched from Lingard's unresisting palm the sheet of paper. While +she was smoothing it Lingard moved round and stood close at her elbow. +She ran quickly over the first lines, then her eyes steadied. At the end +she drew a quick breath and looked up at Lingard. Their faces had never +been so close together before and Mrs. Travers had a surprising second +of a perfectly new sensation. She looked away.--“Do you understand what +this news means?” he murmured. Mrs. Travers let her hand fall by her +side. “Yes,” she said in a low tone. “The compact is broken.” + +Carter had begun his letter without any preliminaries: + +You cleared out in the middle of the night and took the lady away with +you. You left me no proper orders. But as a sailorman I looked upon +myself as left in charge of two ships while within half a mile on that +sandbank there were more than a hundred piratical cut-throats watching +me as closely as so many tigers about to leap. Days went by without a +word of you or the lady. To leave the ships outside and go inland to +look for you was not to be thought of with all those pirates within +springing distance. Put yourself in my place. Can't you imagine my +anxiety, my sleepless nights? Each night worse than the night before. +And still no word from you. I couldn't sit still and worry my head off +about things I couldn't understand. I am a sailorman. My first duty was +to the ships. I had to put an end to this impossible situation and I +hope you will agree that I have done it in a seamanlike way. One misty +morning I moved the brig nearer the sandbank and directly the mist +cleared I opened fire on the praus of those savages which were anchored +in the channel. We aimed wide at first to give those vagabonds that +were on board a chance to clear out and join their friends camped on the +sands. I didn't want to kill people. Then we got the long gun to bear +and in about an hour we had the bottom knocked out of the two praus. The +savages on the bank howled and screamed at every shot. They are mighty +angry but I don't care for their anger now, for by sinking their praus +I have made them as harmless as a flock of lambs. They needn't starve on +their sandbank because they have two or three dugouts hauled up on +the sand and they may ferry themselves and their women to the mainland +whenever they like. + +I fancy I have acted as a seaman and as a seaman I intend to go on +acting. Now I have made the ships safe I shall set about without loss of +time trying to get the yacht off the mud. When that's done I shall arm +the boats and proceed inshore to look for you and the yacht's gentry, +and shan't rest till I know whether any or all of you are above the +earth yet. + +I hope these words will reach you. Just as we had done the business +of those praus the man you sent off that night in Carimata to stop our +chief officer came sailing in from the west with our first gig in +tow and the boat's crew all well. Your serang tells me he is a most +trustworthy messenger and that his name is Jaffir. He seems only too +anxious to try to get to you as soon as possible. I repeat, ships and +men have been made safe and I don't mean to give you up dead or alive. + +“You are quick in taking the point,” said Lingard in a dull voice, while +Mrs. Travers, with the sheet of paper gripped in her hand, looked into +his face with anxious eyes. “He has been smart and no mistake.” + +“He didn't know,” murmured Mrs. Travers. + +“No, he didn't know. But could I take everybody into my confidence?” + protested Lingard in the same low tone. “And yet who else could I trust? +It seemed to me that he must have understood without being told. But he +is too young. He may well be proud according to his lights. He has done +that job outside very smartly--damn his smartness! And here we are with +all our lives depending on my word--which is broken now, Mrs. Travers. +It is broken.” + +Mrs. Travers nodded at him slightly. + +“They would sooner have expected to see the sun and the moon fall out of +the sky,” Lingard continued with repressed fire. Next moment it seemed +to have gone out of him and Mrs. Travers heard him mutter a disconnected +phrase. . . . “The world down about my ears.” + +“What will you do?” she whispered. + +“What will I do?” repeated Lingard, gently. “Oh, yes--do. Mrs. Travers, +do you see that I am nothing now? Just nothing.” + +He had lost himself in the contemplation of her face turned to him with +an expression of awed curiosity. The shock of the world coming down +about his ears in consequence of Carter's smartness was so terrific that +it had dulled his sensibilities in the manner of a great pain or of a +great catastrophe. What was there to look at but that woman's face, in +a world which had lost its consistency, its shape, and its promises in a +moment? + +Mrs. Travers looked away. She understood that she had put to Lingard an +impossible question. What was presenting itself to her as a problem was +to that man a crisis of feeling. Obviously Carter's action had broken +the compact entered into with Daman, and she was intelligent enough to +understand that it was the sort of thing that could not be explained +away. It wasn't horror that she felt, but a sort of consternation, +something like the discomfiture of people who have just missed their +train. It was only more intense. The real dismay had yet to make its way +into her comprehension. To Lingard it was a blow struck straight at his +heart. + +He was not angry with Carter. The fellow had acted like a seaman. +Carter's concern was for the ships. In this fatality Carter was a mere +incident. The real cause of the disaster was somewhere else, was other, +and more remote. And at the same time Lingard could not defend himself +from a feeling that it was in himself, too, somewhere in the unexplored +depths of his nature, something fatal and unavoidable. He muttered to +himself: + +“No. I am not a lucky man.” + +This was but a feeble expression of the discovery of the truth that +suddenly had come home to him as if driven into his breast by a +revealing power which had decided that this was to be the end of his +fling. But he was not the man to give himself up to the examination +of his own sensations. His natural impulse was to grapple with the +circumstances and that was what he was trying to do; but he missed now +that sense of mastery which is half the battle. Conflict of some sort +was the very essence of his life. But this was something he had never +known before. This was a conflict within himself. He had to face +unsuspected powers, foes that he could not go out to meet at the gate. +They were within, as though he had been betrayed by somebody, by some +secret enemy. He was ready to look round for that subtle traitor. A +sort of blankness fell on his mind and he suddenly thought: “Why! It's +myself.” + +Immediately afterward he had a clear, merciless recollection of Hassim +and Immada. He saw them far off beyond the forests. Oh, yes, they +existed--within his breast! + +“That was a night!” he muttered, looking straight at Mrs. Travers. He +had been looking at her all the time. His glance had held her under a +spell, but for a whole interminable minute he had not been aware of her +at all. At the murmur of his words she made a slight movement and he saw +her again.--“What night?” she whispered, timidly, like an intruder. She +was astonished to see him smile.--“Not like this one,” he said. “You +made me notice how quiet and still it was. Yes. Listen how still it is.” + +Both moved their heads slightly and seemed to lend an ear. There was not +a murmur, sigh, rustle, splash, or footfall. No whispers, no tremors, +not a sound of any kind. They might have been alone on board the Emma, +abandoned even by the ghost of Captain Jorgenson departed to rejoin +the Barque Wild Rose on the shore of the Cimmerian sea.--“It's like the +stillness of the end,” said Mrs. Travers in a low, equable voice.--“Yes, +but that, too, is false,” said Lingard in the same tone.--“I don't +understand,” Mrs. Travers began, hurriedly, after a short silence. “But +don't use that word. Don't use it, King Tom! It frightens me by its mere +sound.” + +Lingard made no sign. His thoughts were back with Hassim and Immada. The +young chief and his sister had gone up country on a voluntary mission +to persuade Belarab to return to his stockade and to take up again the +direction of affairs. They carried urgent messages from Lingard, who for +Belarab was the very embodiment of truth and force, that unquestioned +force which had permitted Belarab to indulge in all his melancholy +hesitations. But those two young people had also some personal prestige. +They were Lingard's heart's friends. They were like his children. But +beside that, their high birth, their warlike story, their wanderings, +adventures, and prospects had given them a glamour of their own. + + + +V + +The very day that Travers and d'Alcacer had come on board the Emma +Hassim and Immada had departed on their mission; for Lingard, of course, +could not think of leaving the white people alone with Jorgenson. +Jorgenson was all right, but his ineradicable habit of muttering in his +moustache about “throwing a lighted match amongst the powder barrels” + had inspired Lingard with a certain amount of mistrust. And, moreover, +he did not want to go away from Mrs. Travers. + +It was the only correct inspiration on Carter's part to send Jaffir with +his report to Lingard. That stout-hearted fighter, swimmer, and devoted +follower of the princely misfortunes of Hassim and Immada, had looked +upon his mission to catch the chief officer of the yacht (which he had +received from Lingard in Carimata) as a trifling job. It took him a +little longer than he expected but he had got back to the brig just in +time to be sent on to Lingard with Carter's letter after a couple of +hours' rest. He had the story of all the happenings from Wasub before he +left and though his face preserved its grave impassivity, in his heart +he did not like it at all. + +Fearless and wily, Jaffir was the man for difficult missions and a born +messenger--as he expressed it himself--“to bear weighty words between +great men.” With his unfailing memory he was able to reproduce them +exactly, whether soft or hard, in council or in private; for he knew no +fear. With him there was no need for writing which might fall into the +hands of the enemy. If he died on the way the message would die with +him. He had also the gift of getting at the sense of any situation +and an observant eye. He was distinctly one of those men from whom +trustworthy information can be obtained by the leaders of great +enterprises. Lingard did put several questions to him, but in this +instance, of course, Jaffir could have only very little to say. Of +Carter, whom he called the “young one,” he said that he looked as white +men look when they are pleased with themselves; then added without +waiting for a definite question--“The ships out there are now safe +enough, O, Rajah Laut!” There was no elation in his tone. + +Lingard looked at him blankly. When the Greatest of White Men remarked +that there was yet a price to be paid for that safety, Jaffir assented +by a “Yes, by Allah!” without losing for a moment his grim composure. +When told that he would be required to go and find his master and +the lady Immada who were somewhere in the back country, in Belarab's +travelling camp, he declared himself ready to proceed at once. He had +eaten his fill and had slept three hours on board the brig and he was +not tired. When he was young he used to get tired sometimes; but for +many years now he had known no such weakness. He did not require the +boat with paddlers in which he had come up into the lagoon. He would go +alone in a small canoe. This was no time, he remarked, for publicity and +ostentation. His pent-up anxiety burst through his lips. “It is in my +mind, Tuan, that death has not been so near them since that night when +you came sailing in a black cloud and took us all out of the stockade.” + +Lingard said nothing but there was in Jaffir a faith in that white man +which was not easily shaken. + +“How are you going to save them this time, O Rajah Laut?” he asked, +simply. + +“Belarab is my friend,” murmured Lingard. + +In his anxiety Jaffir was very outspoken. “A man of peace!” he exclaimed +in a low tone. “Who could be safe with a man like that?” he asked, +contemptuously. + +“There is no war,” said Lingard + +“There is suspicion, dread, and revenge, and the anger of armed men,” + retorted Jaffir. “You have taken the white prisoners out of their hands +by the force of your words alone. Is that so, Tuan?” + +“Yes,” said Lingard. + +“And you have them on board here?” asked Jaffir, with a glance over his +shoulder at the white and misty structure within which by the light of a +small oil flame d'Alcacer and Mrs. Travers were just then conversing. + +“Yes, I have them here.” + +“Then, Rajah Laut,” whispered Jaffir, “you can make all safe by giving +them back.” + +“Can I do that?” were the words breathed out through Lingard's lips to +the faithful follower of Hassim and Immada. + +“Can you do anything else?” was the whispered retort of Jaffir the +messenger accustomed to speak frankly to the great of the earth. “You +are a white man and you can have only one word. And now I go.” + +A small, rough dug-out belonging to the Emma had been brought round to +the ladder. A shadowy calash hovering respectfully in the darkness of +the deck had already cleared his throat twice in a warning manner. + +“Yes, Jaffir, go,” said Lingard, “and be my friend.” + +“I am the friend of a great prince,” said the other, sturdily. “But you, +Rajah Laut, were even greater. And great you will remain while you are +with us, people of this sea and of this land. But what becomes of the +strength of your arms before your own white people? Where does it go to, +I say? Well, then, we must trust in the strength of your heart.” + +“I hope that will never fail,” said Lingard, and Jaffir emitted a grunt +of satisfaction. “But God alone sees into men's hearts.” + +“Yes. Our refuge is with Allah,” assented Jaffir, who had acquired +the habit of pious turns of speech in the frequentation of professedly +religious men, of whom there were many in Belarab's stockade. As a +matter of fact, he reposed all his trust in Lingard who had with him +the prestige of a providential man sent at the hour of need by heaven +itself. He waited a while, then: “What is the message I am to take?” he +asked. + +“Tell the whole tale to the Rajah Hassim,” said Lingard. “And tell him +to make his way here with the lady his sister secretly and with speed. +The time of great trouble has come. Let us, at least, be together.” + +“Right! Right!” Jaffir approved, heartily. “To die alone under the +weight of one's enemies is a dreadful fate.” + +He stepped back out of the sheen of the lamp by which they had been +talking and making his way down into the small canoe he took up a paddle +and without a splash vanished on the dark lagoon. + +It was then that Mrs. Travers and d'Alcacer heard Lingard call aloud for +Jorgenson. Instantly the familiar shadow stood at Lingard's elbow and +listened in detached silence. Only at the end of the tale it marvelled +audibly: “Here's a mess for you if you like.” But really nothing in the +world could astonish or startle old Jorgenson. He turned away muttering +in his moustache. Lingard remained with his chin in his hand and +Jaffir's last words took gradual possession of his mind. Then brusquely +he picked up the lamp and went to seek Mrs. Travers. He went to seek her +because he actually needed her bodily presence, the sound of her voice, +the dark, clear glance of her eyes. She could do nothing for him. On +his way he became aware that Jorgenson had turned out the few Malays +on board the Emma and was disposing them about the decks to watch +the lagoon in all directions. On calling Mrs. Travers out of the Cage +Lingard was, in the midst of his mental struggle, conscious of a certain +satisfaction in taking her away from d'Alcacer. He couldn't spare any of +her attention to any other man, not the least crumb of her time, not +the least particle of her thought! He needed it all. To see it withdrawn +from him for the merest instant was irritating--seemed a disaster. + +D'Alcacer, left alone, wondered at the imperious tone of Lingard's call. +To this observer of shades the fact seemed considerable. “Sheer nerves,” + he concluded, to himself. “The man is overstrung. He must have had some +sort of shock.” But what could it be--he wondered to himself. In the +tense stagnation of those days of waiting the slightest tremor had an +enormous importance. D'Alcacer did not seek his camp bedstead. He didn't +even sit down. With the palms of his hands against the edge of the table +he leaned back against it. In that negligent attitude he preserved an +alert mind which for a moment wondered whether Mrs. Travers had +not spoiled Lingard a little. Yet in the suddenness of the forced +association, where, too, d'Alcacer was sure there was some moral problem +in the background, he recognized the extreme difficulty of weighing +accurately the imperious demands against the necessary reservations, the +exact proportions of boldness and caution. And d'Alcacer admired upon +the whole Mrs. Travers' cleverness. + +There could be no doubt that she had the situation in her hands. That, +of course, did not mean safety. She had it in her hands as one may hold +some highly explosive and uncertain compound. D'Alcacer thought of her +with profound sympathy and with a quite unselfish interest. Sometimes +in a street we cross the path of personalities compelling sympathy and +wonder but for all that we don't follow them home. D'Alcacer refrained +from following Mrs. Travers any further. He had become suddenly aware +that Mr. Travers was sitting up on his camp bedstead. He must have done +it very suddenly. Only a moment before he had appeared plunged in +the deepest slumber, and the stillness for a long time now had been +perfectly unbroken. D'Alcacer was startled enough for an exclamation +and Mr. Travers turned his head slowly in his direction. D'Alcacer +approached the bedstead with a certain reluctance. + +“Awake?” he said. + +“A sudden chill,” said Mr. Travers. “But I don't feel cold now. Strange! +I had the impression of an icy blast.” + +“Ah!” said d'Alcacer. + +“Impossible, of course!” went on Mr. Travers. “This stagnating air never +moves. It clings odiously to one. What time is it?” + +“Really, I don't know.” + +“The glass of my watch was smashed on that night when we were so +treacherously assailed by the savages on the sandbank,” grumbled Mr. +Travers. + +“I must say I was never so surprised in my life,” confessed d'Alcacer. +“We had stopped and I was lighting a cigar, you may remember.” + +“No,” said Mr. Travers. “I had just then pulled out my watch. Of course +it flew out of my hand but it hung by the chain. Somebody trampled on +it. The hands are broken off short. It keeps on ticking but I can't tell +the time. It's absurd. Most provoking.” + +“Do you mean to say,” asked d'Alcacer, “that you have been winding it up +every evening?” + +Mr. Travers looked up from his bedstead and he also seemed surprised. +“Why! I suppose I have.” He kept silent for a while. “It isn't so +much blind habit as you may think. My habits are the outcome of strict +method. I had to order my life methodically. You know very well, my dear +d'Alcacer, that without strict method I would not have been able to get +through my work and would have had no time at all for social duties, +which, of course, are of very great importance. I may say that, +materially, method has been the foundation of my success in public life. +There were never any empty moments in my day. And now this! . . .” He +looked all round the Cage. . . . “Where's my wife?” he asked. + +“I was talking to her only a moment ago,” answered d'Alcacer. “I don't +know the time. My watch is on board the yacht; but it isn't late, you +know.” + +Mr. Travers flung off with unwonted briskness the light cotton sheet +which covered him. He buttoned hastily the tunic which he had unfastened +before lying down, and just as d'Alcacer was expecting him to swing +his feet to the deck impetuously, he lay down again on the pillow and +remained perfectly still. + +D'Alcacer waited awhile and then began to pace the Cage. After a couple +of turns he stopped and said, gently: + +“I am afraid, Travers, you are not very well.” + +“I don't know what illness is,” answered the voice from the pillow to +the great relief of d'Alcacer who really had not expected an answer. +“Good health is a great asset in public life. Illness may make you miss +a unique opportunity. I was never ill.” + +All this came out deadened in tone, as if the speaker's face had been +buried in the pillow. D'Alcacer resumed his pacing. + +“I think I asked you where my wife was,” said the muffled voice. + +With great presence of mind d'Alcacer kept on pacing the Cage as if +he had not heard.--“You know, I think she is mad,” went on the muffled +voice. “Unless I am.” + +Again d'Alcacer managed not to interrupt his regular pacing. “Do you +know what I think?” he said, abruptly. “I think, Travers, that you +don't want to talk about her. I think that you don't want to talk about +anything. And to tell you the truth I don't want to, either.” + +D'Alcacer caught a faint sigh from the pillow and at the same time saw +a small, dim flame appear outside the Cage. And still he kept on his +pacing. Mrs. Travers and Lingard coming out of the deckhouse stopped +just outside the door and Lingard stood the deck-lamp on its roof. They +were too far from d'Alcacer to be heard, but he could make them out: +Mrs. Travers, as straight as an arrow, and the heavy bulk of the man who +faced her with a lowered head. He saw it in profile against the light +and as if deferential in its slight droop. They were looking straight at +each other. Neither of them made the slightest gesture. + +“There is that in me,” Lingard murmured, deeply, “which would set my +heart harder than a stone. I am King Tom, Rajah Laut, and fit to +look any man hereabouts in the face. I have my name to take care of. +Everything rests on that.” + +“Mr. d'Alcacer would express this by saying that everything rested on +honour,” commented Mrs. Travers with lips that did not tremble, though +from time to time she could feel the accelerated beating of her heart. + +“Call it what you like. It's something that a man needs to draw a free +breath. And look!--as you see me standing before you here I care for it +no longer.” + +“But I do care for it,” retorted Mrs. Travers. “As you see me standing +here--I do care. This is something that is your very own. You have a +right to it. And I repeat I do care for it.” + +“Care for something of my own,” murmured Lingard, very close to her +face. “Why should you care for my rights?” + +“Because,” she said, holding her ground though their foreheads were +nearly touching, “because if I ever get back to my life I don't want to +make it more absurd by real remorse.” + +Her tone was soft and Lingard received the breath of those words like a +caress on his face. D'Alcacer, in the Cage, made still another effort +to keep up his pacing. He didn't want to give Mr. Travers the slightest +excuse for sitting up again and looking round. + +“That I should live to hear anybody say they cared anything for what +was mine!” whispered Lingard. “And that it should be you--you, who have +taken all hardness out of me.” + +“I don't want your heart to be made hard. I want it to be made firm.” + +“You couldn't have said anything better than what you have said just now +to make it steady,” flowed the murmur of Lingard's voice with something +tender in its depth. “Has anybody ever had a friend like this?” he +exclaimed, raising his head as if taking the starry night to witness. + +“And I ask myself is it possible that there should be another man on +earth that I could trust as I trust you. I say to you: Yes! Go and save +what you have a right to and don't forget to be merciful. I will not +remind you of our perfect innocence. The earth must be small indeed that +we should have blundered like this into your life. It's enough to make +one believe in fatality. But I can't find it in me to behave like a +fatalist, to sit down with folded hands. Had you been another kind of +man I might have been too hopeless or too disdainful. Do you know what +Mr. d'Alcacer calls you?” + +Inside the Cage d'Alcacer, casting curious glances in their direction, +saw Lingard shake his head and thought with slight uneasiness: “He is +refusing her something.” + +“Mr. d'Alcacer's name for you is the 'Man of Fate',” said Mrs. Travers, +a little breathlessly. + +“A mouthful. Never mind, he is a gentleman. It's what you. . . .” + +“I call you all but by your Christian name,” said Mrs. Travers, hastily. +“Believe me, Mr. d'Alcacer understands you.” + +“He is all right,” interjected Lingard. + +“And he is innocent. I remember what you have said--that the innocent +must take their chance. Well, then, do what is right.” + +“You think it would be right? You believe it? You feel it?” + +“At this time, in this place, from a man like you--Yes, it is right.” + +Lingard thought that woman wonderfully true to him and wonderfully +fearless with herself. The necessity to take back the two captives to +the stockade was so clear and unavoidable now, that he believed nothing +on earth could have stopped him from doing so, but where was there +another woman in the world who would have taken it like this? And he +reflected that in truth and courage there is found wisdom. It seemed to +him that till Mrs. Travers came to stand by his side he had never known +what truth and courage and wisdom were. With his eyes on her face and +having been told that in her eyes he appeared worthy of being both +commanded and entreated, he felt an instant of complete content, a +moment of, as it were, perfect emotional repose. + +During the silence Mrs. Travers with a quick side-glance noticed +d'Alcacer as one sees a man in a mist, his mere dark shape arrested +close to the muslin screen. She had no doubt that he was looking in +their direction and that he could see them much more plainly than she +could see him. Mrs. Travers thought suddenly how anxious he must be; and +she remembered that he had begged her for some sign, for some warning, +beforehand, at the moment of crisis. She had understood very well his +hinted request for time to get prepared. If he was to get more than a +few minutes, _this_ was the moment to make him a sign--the sign he had +suggested himself. Mrs. Travers moved back the least bit so as to let +the light fall in front of her and with a slow, distinct movement she +put her left hand to her forehead. + +“Well, then,” she heard Lingard's forcible murmur, “well, then, Mrs. +Travers, it must be done to-night.” + +One may be true, fearless, and wise, and yet catch one's breath +before the simple finality of action. Mrs. Travers caught her breath: +“To-night! To-night!” she whispered. D'Alcacer's dark and misty +silhouette became more blurred. He had seen her sign and had retreated +deeper within the Cage. + +“Yes, to-night,” affirmed Lingard. “Now, at once, within the hour, this +moment,” he murmured, fiercely, following Mrs. Travers in her recoiling +movement. She felt her arm being seized swiftly. “Don't you see that +if it is to do any good, that if they are not to be delivered to mere +slaughter, it must be done while all is dark ashore, before an armed mob +in boats comes clamouring alongside? Yes. Before the night is an hour +older, so that I may be hammering at Belarab's gate while all the +Settlement is still asleep.” + +Mrs. Travers didn't dream of protesting. For the moment she was unable +to speak. This man was very fierce and just as suddenly as it had been +gripped (making her think incongruously in the midst of her agitation +that there would be certainly a bruise there in the morning) she felt +her arm released and a penitential tone come into Lingard's murmuring +voice. + +“And even now it's nearly too late! The road was plain, but I saw you on +it and my heart failed me. I was there like an empty man and I dared +not face you. You must forgive me. No, I had no right to doubt you for +a moment. I feel as if I ought to go on my knees and beg your pardon for +forgetting what you are, for daring to forget.” + +“Why, King Tom, what is it?” + +“It seems as if I had sinned,” she heard him say. He seized her by the +shoulders, turned her about, moved her forward a step or two. His hands +were heavy, his force irresistible, though he himself imagined he was +handling her gently. “Look straight before you,” he growled into her +ear. “Do you see anything?” Mrs. Travers, passive between the rigid +arms, could see nothing but, far off, the massed, featureless shadows of +the shore. + +“No, I see nothing,” she said. + +“You can't be looking the right way,” she heard him behind her. And now +she felt her head between Lingard's hands. He moved it the least bit to +the right. “There! See it?” + +“No. What am I to look for?” + +“A gleam of light,” said Lingard, taking away his hands suddenly. “A +gleam that will grow into a blaze before our boat can get half way +across the lagoon.” + +Even as Lingard spoke Mrs. Travers caught sight of a red spark far +away. She had looked often enough at the Settlement, as on the face of +a painting on a curtain, to have its configuration fixed in her mind, +to know that it was on the beach at its end furthest from Belarab's +stockade. + +“The brushwood is catching,” murmured Lingard in her ear. “If they had +some dry grass the whole pile would be blazing by now.” + +“And this means. . . .” + +“It means that the news has spread. And it is before Tengga's enclosure +on his end of the beach. That's where all the brains of the Settlement +are. It means talk and excitement and plenty of crafty words. Tengga's +fire! I tell you, Mrs. Travers, that before half an hour has passed +Daman will be there to make friends with the fat Tengga, who is ready to +say to him, 'I told you so'.” + +“I see,” murmured Mrs. Travers. Lingard drew her gently to the rail. + +“And now look over there at the other end of the beach where the shadows +are heaviest. That is Belarab's fort, his houses, his treasure, his +dependents. That's where the strength of the Settlement is. I kept it +up. I made it last. But what is it now? It's like a weapon in the hand +of a dead man. And yet it's all we have to look to, if indeed there is +still time. I swear to you I wouldn't dare land them in daylight for +fear they should be slaughtered on the beach.” + +“There is no time to lose,” whispered Mrs. Travers, and Lingard, too, +spoke very low. + +“No, not if I, too, am to keep what is my right. It's you who have said +it.” + +“Yes, I have said it,” she whispered, without lifting her head. Lingard +made a brusque movement at her elbow and bent his head close to her +shoulder. + +“And I who mistrusted you! Like Arabs do to their great men, I ought to +kiss the hem of your robe in repentance for having doubted the greatness +of your heart.” + +“Oh! my heart!” said Mrs. Travers, lightly, still gazing at the fire, +which had suddenly shot up to a tall blaze. “I can assure you it has +been of very little account in the world.” She paused for a moment to +steady her voice, then said, firmly, “Let's get this over.” + +“To tell you the truth the boat has been ready for some time.” + +“Well, then. . . .” + +“Mrs. Travers,” said Lingard with an effort, “they are people of your +own kind.” And suddenly he burst out: “I cannot take them ashore bound +hand and foot.” + +“Mr. d'Alcacer knows. You will find him ready. Ever since the beginning +he has been prepared for whatever might happen.” + +“He is a man,” said Lingard with conviction. “But it's of the other that +I am thinking.” + +“Ah, the other,” she repeated. “Then, what about my thoughts? Luckily we +have Mr. d'Alcacer. I shall speak to him first.” + +She turned away from the rail and moved toward the Cage. + +“Jorgenson,” the voice of Lingard resounded all along the deck, “get a +light on the gangway.” Then he followed Mrs. Travers slowly. + + + +VI + +D'Alcacer, after receiving his warning, stepped back and leaned against +the edge of the table. He could not ignore in himself a certain emotion. +And indeed, when he had asked Mrs. Travers for a sign he expected to +be moved--but he had not expected the sign to come so soon. He expected +this night to pass like other nights, in broken slumbers, bodily +discomfort, and the unrest of disconnected thinking. At the same time +he was surprised at his own emotion. He had flattered himself on the +possession of more philosophy. He thought that this famous sense of +self-preservation was a queer thing, a purely animal thing. “For, as +a thinking man,” he reflected, “I really ought not to care.” It was +probably the unusual that affected him. Clearly. If he had been lying +seriously ill in a room in a hotel and had overheard some ominous +whispers he would not have cared in the least. Ah, but then he would +have been ill--and in illness one grows so indifferent. Illness is a +great help to unemotional behaviour, which of course is the correct +behaviour for a man of the world. He almost regretted he was not very +ill. But, then, Mr. Travers was obviously ill and it did not seem to +help him much. D'Alcacer glanced at the bedstead where Mr. Travers +preserved an immobility which struck d'Alcacer as obviously affected. +He mistrusted it. Generally he mistrusted Mr. Travers. One couldn't tell +what he would do next. Not that he could do much one way or another, but +that somehow he threatened to rob the situation of whatever dignity it +may have had as a stroke of fate, as a call on courage. Mr. d'Alcacer, +acutely observant and alert for the slightest hints, preferred to look +upon himself as the victim not of a swindle but of a rough man naively +engaged in a contest with heaven's injustice. D'Alcacer did not examine +his heart, but some lines of a French poet came into his mind, to the +effect that in all times those who fought with an unjust heaven had +possessed the secret admiration and love of men. He didn't go so far as +love but he could not deny to himself that his feeling toward Lingard +was secretly friendly and--well, appreciative. Mr. Travers sat up +suddenly. What a horrible nuisance, thought d'Alcacer, fixing his eyes +on the tips of his shoes with the hope that perhaps the other would lie +down again. Mr. Travers spoke. + +“Still up, d'Alcacer?” + +“I assure you it isn't late. It's dark at six, we dined before seven, +that makes the night long and I am not a very good sleeper; that is, I +cannot go to sleep till late in the night.” + +“I envy you,” said Mr. Travers, speaking with a sort of drowsy apathy. +“I am always dropping off and the awakenings are horrible.” + +D'Alcacer, raising his eyes, noticed that Mrs. Travers and Lingard had +vanished from the light. They had gone to the rail where d'Alcacer +could not see them. Some pity mingled with his vexation at Mr. Travers' +snatchy wakefulness. There was something weird about the man, he +reflected. “Jorgenson,” he began aloud. + +“What's that?” snapped Mr. Travers. + +“It's the name of that lanky old store-keeper who is always about the +decks.” + +“I haven't seen him. I don't see anybody. I don't know anybody. I prefer +not to notice.” + +“I was only going to say that he gave me a pack of cards; would you like +a game of piquet?” + +“I don't think I could keep my eyes open,” said Mr. Travers in an +unexpectedly confidential tone. “Isn't it funny, d'Alcacer? And then I +wake up. It's too awful.” + +D'Alcacer made no remark and Mr. Travers seemed not to have expected +any. + +“When I said my wife was mad,” he began, suddenly, causing d'Alcacer +to start, “I didn't mean it literally, of course.” His tone sounded +slightly dogmatic and he didn't seem to be aware of any interval during +which he had appeared to sleep. D'Alcacer was convinced more than ever +that he had been shamming, and resigned himself wearily to listen, +folding his arms across his chest. “What I meant, really,” continued Mr. +Travers, “was that she is the victim of a craze. Society is subject to +crazes, as you know very well. They are not reprehensible in themselves, +but the worst of my wife is that her crazes are never like those of the +people with whom she naturally associates. They generally run counter to +them. This peculiarity has given me some anxiety, you understand, in the +position we occupy. People will begin to say that she is eccentric. Do +you see her anywhere, d'Alcacer?” + +D'Alcacer was thankful to be able to say that he didn't see Mrs. +Travers. He didn't even hear any murmurs, though he had no doubt that +everybody on board the Emma was wide awake by now. But Mr. Travers +inspired him with invincible mistrust and he thought it prudent to add: + +“You forget that your wife has a room in the deckhouse.” + +This was as far as he would go, for he knew very well that she was not +in the deckhouse. Mr. Travers, completely convinced by the statement, +made no sound. But neither did he lie down again. D'Alcacer gave himself +up to meditation. The night seemed extremely oppressive. At Lingard's +shout for Jorgenson, that in the profound silence struck his ears +ominously, he raised his eyes and saw Mrs. Travers outside the door of +the Cage. He started forward but she was already within. He saw she was +moved. She seemed out of breath and as if unable to speak at first. + +“Hadn't we better shut the door?” suggested d'Alcacer. + +“Captain Lingard's coming in,” she whispered to him. “He has made up his +mind.” + +“That's an excellent thing,” commented d'Alcacer, quietly. “I conclude +from this that we shall hear something.” + +“You shall hear it all from me,” breathed out Mrs. Travers. + +“Ah!” exclaimed d'Alcacer very low. + +By that time Lingard had entered, too, and the decks of the Emma were +all astir with moving figures. Jorgenson's voice was also heard giving +directions. For nearly a minute the four persons within the Cage +remained motionless. A shadowy Malay in the gangway said suddenly: +“Sudah, Tuan,” and Lingard murmured, “Ready, Mrs. Travers.” + +She seized d'Alcacer's arm and led him to the side of the Cage furthest +from the corner in which Mr. Travers' bed was placed, while Lingard +busied himself in pricking up the wick of the Cage lantern as if it had +suddenly occurred to him that this, whatever happened, should not be a +deed of darkness. Mr. Travers did nothing but turn his head to look over +his shoulder. + +“One moment,” said d'Alcacer, in a low tone and smiling at Mrs. Travers' +agitation. “Before you tell me anything let me ask you: 'Have _you_ made +up your mind?'” He saw with much surprise a widening of her eyes. Was it +indignation? A pause as of suspicion fell between those two people. Then +d'Alcacer said apologetically: “Perhaps I ought not to have asked that +question,” and Lingard caught Mrs. Travers' words, “Oh, I am not afraid +to answer that question.” + +Then their voices sank. Lingard hung the lamp up again and stood idle in +the revived light; but almost immediately he heard d'Alcacer calling him +discreetly. + +“Captain Lingard!” + +He moved toward them at once. At the same instant Mr. Travers' head +pivoted away from the group to its frontal position. + +D'Alcacer, very serious, spoke in a familiar undertone. + +“Mrs. Travers tells me that we must be delivered up to those Moors on +shore.” + +“Yes, there is nothing else for it,” said Lingard. + +“I confess I am a bit startled,” said d'Alcacer; but except for a +slightly hurried utterance nobody could have guessed at anything +resembling emotion. + +“I have a right to my good name,” said Lingard, also very calm, while +Mrs. Travers near him, with half-veiled eyes, listened impassive like a +presiding genius. + +“I wouldn't question that for a moment,” conceded d'Alcacer. “A point +of honour is not to be discussed. But there is such a thing as humanity, +too. To be delivered up helplessly. . . .” + +“Perhaps!” interrupted Lingard. “But you needn't feel hopeless. I am +not at liberty to give up my life for your own. Mrs. Travers knows why. +That, too, is engaged.” + +“Always on your honour?” + +“I don't know. A promise is a promise.” + +“Nobody can be held to the impossible,” remarked d'Alcacer. + +“Impossible! What is impossible? I don't know it. I am not a man to talk +of the impossible or dodge behind it. I did not bring you here.” + +D'Alcacer lowered his head for a moment. “I have finished,” he said, +gravely. “That much I had to say. I hope you don't think I have appeared +unduly anxious.” + +“It's the best policy, too.” Mrs. Travers made herself heard suddenly. +Nothing of her moved but her lips, she did not even raise her eyes. +“It's the only possible policy. You believe me, Mr. d'Alcacer? . . .” He +made an almost imperceptible movement of the head. . . . “Well, then, +I put all my hope in you, Mr. d'Alcacer, to get this over as easily as +possible and save us all from some odious scene. You think perhaps that +it is I who ought to. . . .” + +“No, no! I don't think so,” interrupted d'Alcacer. “It would be +impossible.” + +“I am afraid it would,” she admitted, nervously. + +D'Alcacer made a gesture as if to beg her to say no more and at once +crossed over to Mr. Travers' side of the Cage. He did not want to give +himself time to think about his task. Mr. Travers was sitting up on +the camp bedstead with a light cotton sheet over his legs. He stared at +nothing, and on approaching him d'Alcacer disregarded the slight sinking +of his own heart at this aspect which seemed to be that of extreme +terror. “This is awful,” he thought. The man kept as still as a hare in +its form. + +The impressed d'Alcacer had to make an effort to bring himself to tap +him lightly on the shoulder. + +“The moment has come, Travers, to show some fortitude,” he said with +easy intimacy. Mr. Travers looked up swiftly. “I have just been talking +to your wife. She had a communication from Captain Lingard for us both. +It remains for us now to preserve as much as possible our dignity. I +hope that if necessary we will both know how to die.” + +In a moment of profound stillness, d'Alcacer had time to wonder whether +his face was as stony in expression as the one upturned to him. But +suddenly a smile appeared on it, which was certainly the last thing +d'Alcacer expected to see. An indubitable smile. A slightly contemptuous +smile. + +“My wife has been stuffing your head with some more of her nonsense.” + Mr. Travers spoke in a voice which astonished d'Alcacer as much as the +smile, a voice that was not irritable nor peevish, but had a distinct +note of indulgence. “My dear d'Alcacer, that craze has got such a hold +of her that she would tell you any sort of tale. Social impostors, +mediums, fortune-tellers, charlatans of all sorts do obtain a strange +influence over women. You have seen that sort of thing yourself. I had a +talk with her before dinner. The influence that bandit has got over her +is incredible. I really believe the fellow is half crazy himself. They +often are, you know. I gave up arguing with her. Now, what is it you +have got to tell me? But I warn you that I am not going to take it +seriously.” + +He rejected briskly the cotton sheet, put his feet to the ground and +buttoned his jacket. D'Alcacer, as he talked, became aware by the slight +noise behind him that Mrs. Travers and Lingard were leaving the Cage, +but he went on to the end and then waited anxiously for the answer. + +“See! She has followed him out on deck,” were Mr. Travers' first words. +“I hope you understand that it is a mere craze. You can't help seeing +that. Look at her costume. She simply has lost her head. Luckily the +world needn't know. But suppose that something similar had happened at +home. It would have been extremely awkward. Oh! yes, I will come. I will +go anywhere. I can't stand this hulk, those people, this infernal Cage. +I believe I should fall ill if I were to remain here.” + +The inward detached voice of Jorgenson made itself heard near the +gangway saying: “The boat has been waiting for this hour past, King +Tom.” + +“Let us make a virtue of necessity and go with a good grace,” said +d'Alcacer, ready to take Mr. Travers under the arm persuasively, for he +did not know what to make of that gentleman. + +But Mr. Travers seemed another man. “I am afraid, d'Alcacer, that you, +too, are not very strong-minded. I am going to take a blanket off this +bedstead. . . .” He flung it hastily over his arm and followed d'Alcacer +closely. “What I suffer mostly from, strange to say, is cold.” + +Mrs. Travers and Lingard were waiting near the gangway. To everybody's +extreme surprise Mr. Travers addressed his wife first. + +“You were always laughing at people's crazes,” was what he said, “and +now you have a craze of your own. But we won't discuss that.” + +D'Alcacer passed on, raising his cap to Mrs. Travers, and went down the +ship's side into the boat. Jorgenson had vanished in his own manner like +an exorcised ghost, and Lingard, stepping back, left husband and wife +face to face. + +“Did you think I was going to make a fuss?” asked Mr. Travers in a very +low voice. “I assure you I would rather go than stay here. You didn't +think that? You have lost all sense of reality, of probability. I was +just thinking this evening that I would rather be anywhere than here +looking on at you. At your folly. . . .” + +Mrs. Travers' loud, “Martin!” made Lingard wince, caused d'Alcacer +to lift his head down there in the boat, and even Jorgenson, forward +somewhere out of sight, ceased mumbling in his moustache. The only +person who seemed not to have heard that exclamation was Mr. Travers +himself, who continued smoothly: + +“. . . at the aberration of your mind, you who seemed so superior to +common credulities. You are not yourself, not at all, and some day you +will admit to me that . . . No, the best thing will be to forget it, as +you will soon see yourself. We shall never mention that subject in the +future. I am certain you will be only too glad to agree with me on that +point.” + +“How far ahead are you looking?” asked Mrs. Travers, finding her voice +and even the very tone in which she would have addressed him had they +been about to part in the hall of their town house. She might have been +asking him at what time he expected to be home, while a footman held the +door open and the brougham waited in the street. + +“Not very far. This can't last much longer.” Mr. Travers made a movement +as if to leave her exactly as though he were rather pressed to keep +an appointment. “By the by,” he said, checking himself, “I suppose the +fellow understands thoroughly that we are wealthy. He could hardly doubt +that.” + +“It's the last thought that would enter his head,” said Mrs. Travers. + +“Oh, yes, just so,” Mr. Travers allowed a little impatience to pierce +under his casual manner. “But I don't mind telling you that I have had +enough of this. I am prepared to make--ah!--to make concessions. A large +pecuniary sacrifice. Only the whole position is so absurd! He might +conceivably doubt my good faith. Wouldn't it be just as well if you, +with your particular influence, would hint to him that with me he would +have nothing to fear? I am a man of my word.” + +“That is the first thing he would naturally think of any man,” said Mrs. +Travers. + +“Will your eyes never be opened?” Mr. Travers began, irritably, then +gave it up. “Well, so much the better then. I give you a free hand.” + +“What made you change your attitude like this?” asked Mrs. Travers, +suspiciously. + +“My regard for you,” he answered without hesitation. + +“I intended to join you in your captivity. I was just trying to persuade +him. . . .” + +“I forbid you absolutely,” whispered Mr. Travers, forcibly. “I am glad +to get away. I don't want to see you again till your craze is over.” + +She was confounded by his secret vehemence. But instantly succeeding his +fierce whisper came a short, inane society laugh and a much louder, “Not +that I attach any importance . . .” + +He sprang away, as it were, from his wife, and as he went over the +gangway waved his hand to her amiably. + +Lighted dimly by the lantern on the roof of the deckhouse Mrs. Travers +remained very still with lowered head and an aspect of profound +meditation. It lasted but an instant before she moved off and brushing +against Lingard passed on with downcast eyes to her deck cabin. Lingard +heard the door shut. He waited awhile, made a movement toward the +gangway but checked himself and followed Mrs. Travers into her cabin. + +It was pitch dark in there. He could see absolutely nothing and was +oppressed by the profound stillness unstirred even by the sound of +breathing. + +“I am going on shore,” he began, breaking the black and deathlike +silence enclosing him and the invisible woman. “I wanted to say +good-bye.” + +“You are going on shore,” repeated Mrs. Travers. Her voice was +emotionless, blank, unringing. + +“Yes, for a few hours, or for life,” Lingard said in measured tones. “I +may have to die with them or to die maybe for others. For you, if I +only knew how to manage it, I would want to live. I am telling you this +because it is dark. If there had been a light in here I wouldn't have +come in.” + +“I wish you had not,” uttered the same unringing woman's voice. “You are +always coming to me with those lives and those deaths in your hand.” + +“Yes, it's too much for you,” was Lingard's undertoned comment. “You +could be no other than true. And you are innocent! Don't wish me life, +but wish me luck, for you are innocent--and you will have to take your +chance.” + +“All luck to you, King Tom,” he heard her say in the darkness in which +he seemed now to perceive the gleam of her hair. “I will take my chance. +And try not to come near me again for I am weary of you.” + +“I can well believe it,” murmured Lingard, and stepped out of the cabin, +shutting the door after him gently. For half a minute, perhaps, the +stillness continued, and then suddenly the chair fell over in the +darkness. Next moment Mrs. Travers' head appeared in the light of the +lamp left on the roof of the deckhouse. Her bare arms grasped the door +posts. + +“Wait a moment,” she said, loudly, into the shadows of the deck. She +heard no footsteps, saw nothing moving except the vanishing white shape +of the late Captain H. C. Jorgenson, who was indifferent to the life of +men. “Wait, King Tom!” she insisted, raising her voice; then, “I didn't +mean it. Don't believe me!” she cried, recklessly. + +For the second time that night a woman's voice startled the hearts of +men on board the Emma. All except the heart of old Jorgenson. The Malays +in the boat looked up from their thwarts. D'Alcacer, sitting in the +stern sheets beside Lingard, felt a sinking of his heart. + +“What's this?” he exclaimed. “I heard your name on deck. You are wanted, +I think.” + +“Shove off,” ordered Lingard, inflexibly, without even looking at +d'Alcacer. Mr. Travers was the only one who didn't seem to be aware +of anything. A long time after the boat left the Emma's side he leaned +toward d'Alcacer. + +“I have a most extraordinary feeling,” he said in a cautious undertone. +“I seem to be in the air--I don't know. Are we on the water, d'Alcacer? +Are you quite sure? But of course, we are on the water.” + +“Yes,” said d'Alcacer, in the same tone. “Crossing the Styx--perhaps.” + He heard Mr. Travers utter an unmoved “Very likely,” which he did not +expect. Lingard, his hand on the tiller, sat like a man of stone. + +“Then your point of view has changed,” whispered d'Alcacer. + +“I told my wife to make an offer,” went on the earnest whisper of the +other man. “A sum of money. But to tell you the truth I don't believe +very much in its success.” + +D'Alcacer made no answer and only wondered whether he didn't like better +Mr. Travers' other, unreasonable mood. There was no denying the fact +that Mr. Travers was a troubling person. Now he suddenly gripped +d'Alcacer's fore-arm and added under his breath: “I doubt everything. I +doubt whether the offer will ever be made.” + +All this was not very impressive. There was something pitiful in it: +whisper, grip, shudder, as of a child frightened in the dark. But the +emotion was deep. Once more that evening, but this time aroused by the +husband's distress, d'Alcacer's wonder approached the borders of awe. + + + +PART VI. THE CLAIM OF LIFE AND THE TOLL OF DEATH + +I + +“Have you got King Tom's watch in there?” said a voice that seemed not +to attach the slightest importance to the question. Jorgenson, outside +the door of Mrs. Travers' part of the deckhouse, waited for the answer. +He heard a low cry very much like a moan, the startled sound of pain +that may be sometimes heard in sick rooms. But it moved him not at all. +He would never have dreamt of opening the door unless told to do so, +in which case he would have beheld, with complete indifference, Mrs. +Travers extended on the floor with her head resting on the edge of the +camp bedstead (on which Lingard had never slept), as though she had +subsided there from a kneeling posture which is the attitude of prayer, +supplication, or defeat. The hours of the night had passed Mrs. Travers +by. After flinging herself on her knees, she didn't know why, since she +could think of nothing to pray for, had nothing to invoke, and was too +far gone for such a futile thing as despair, she had remained there till +the sense of exhaustion had grown on her to the point in which she lost +her belief in her power to rise. In a half-sitting attitude, her head +resting against the edge of the couch and her arms flung above her head, +she sank into an indifference, the mere resignation of a worn-out body +and a worn-out mind which often is the only sort of rest that comes to +people who are desperately ill and is welcome enough in a way. The voice +of Jorgenson roused her out of that state. She sat up, aching in every +limb and cold all over. + +Jorgenson, behind the door, repeated with lifeless obstinacy: + +“Do you see King Tom's watch in there?” + +Mrs. Travers got up from the floor. She tottered, snatching at the air, +and found the back of the armchair under her hand. + +“Who's there?” + +She was also ready to ask: “Where am I?” but she remembered and at once +became the prey of that active dread which had been lying dormant for +a few hours in her uneasy and prostrate body. “What time is it?” she +faltered out. + +“Dawn,” pronounced the imperturbable voice at the door. It seemed to +her that it was a word that could make any heart sink with apprehension. +Dawn! She stood appalled. And the toneless voice outside the door +insisted: + +“You must have Tom's watch there!” + +“I haven't seen it,” she cried as if tormented by a dream. + +“Look in that desk thing. If you push open the shutter you will be able +to see.” + +Mrs. Travers became aware of the profound darkness of the cabin. +Jorgenson heard her staggering in there. After a moment a woman's voice, +which struck even him as strange, said in faint tones: + +“I have it. It's stopped.” + +“It doesn't matter. I don't want to know the time. There should be a key +about. See it anywhere?” + +“Yes, it's fastened to the watch,” the dazed voice answered from within. +Jorgenson waited before making his request. “Will you pass it out to me? +There's precious little time left now!” + +The door flew open, which was certainly something Jorgenson had not +expected. He had expected but a hand with the watch protruded through +a narrow crack, But he didn't start back or give any other sign of +surprise at seeing Mrs. Travers fully dressed. Against the faint +clearness in the frame of the open shutter she presented to him the dark +silhouette of her shoulders surmounted by a sleek head, because her +hair was still in the two plaits. To Jorgenson Mrs. Travers in her +un-European dress had always been displeasing, almost monstrous. Her +stature, her gestures, her general carriage struck his eye as +absurdly incongruous with a Malay costume, too ample, too free, too +bold--offensive. To Mrs. Travers, Jorgenson, in the dusk of the passage, +had the aspect of a dim white ghost, and he chilled her by his ghost's +aloofness. + +He picked up the watch from her outspread palm without a word of thanks, +only mumbling in his moustache, “H'm, yes, that's it. I haven't yet +forgotten how to count seconds correctly, but it's better to have a +watch.” + +She had not the slightest notion what he meant. And she did not care. +Her mind remained confused and the sense of bodily discomfort oppressed +her. She whispered, shamefacedly, “I believe I've slept.” + +“I haven't,” mumbled Jorgenson, growing more and more distinct to her +eyes. The brightness of the short dawn increased rapidly as if the sun +were impatient to look upon the Settlement. “No fear of that,” he added, +boastfully. + +It occurred to Mrs. Travers that perhaps she had not slept either. Her +state had been more like an imperfect, half-conscious, quivering death. +She shuddered at the recollection. + +“What an awful night,” she murmured, drearily. + +There was nothing to hope for from Jorgenson. She expected him to +vanish, indifferent, like a phantom of the dead carrying off the +appropriately dead watch in his hand for some unearthly purpose. +Jorgenson didn't move. His was an insensible, almost a senseless +presence! Nothing could be extorted from it. But a wave of anguish as +confused as all her other sensations swept Mrs. Travers off her feet. + +“Can't you tell me something?” she cried. + +For half a minute perhaps Jorgenson made no sound; then: “For years +I have been telling anybody who cared to ask,” he mumbled in his +moustache. “Telling Tom, too. And Tom knew what he wanted to do. How's +one to know what _you_ are after?” + +She had never expected to hear so many words from that rigid shadow. Its +monotonous mumble was fascinating, its sudden loquacity was shocking. +And in the profound stillness that reigned outside it was as if there +had been no one left in the world with her but the phantom of that old +adventurer. He was heard again: “What I could tell you would be worse +than poison.” + +Mrs. Travers was not familiar with Jorgenson's consecrated phrases. The +mechanical voice, the words themselves, his air of abstraction appalled +her. And he hadn't done yet; she caught some more of his unconcerned +mumbling: “There is nothing I don't know,” and the absurdity of the +statement was also appalling. Mrs. Travers gasped and with a wild little +laugh: + +“Then you know why I called after King Tom last night.” + +He glanced away along his shoulder through the door of the deckhouse at +the growing brightness of the day. She did so, too. It was coming. It +had come! Another day! And it seemed to Mrs. Travers a worse calamity +than any discovery she had made in her life, than anything she could +have imagined to come to her. The very magnitude of horror steadied her, +seemed to calm her agitation as some kinds of fatal drugs do before they +kill. She laid a steady hand on Jorgenson's sleeve and spoke quietly, +distinctly, urgently. + +“You were on deck. What I want to know is whether I was heard?” + +“Yes,” said Jorgenson, absently, “I heard you.” Then, as if roused a +little, he added less mechanically: “The whole ship heard you.” + +Mrs. Travers asked herself whether perchance she had not simply +screamed. It had never occurred to her before that perhaps she had. At +the time it seemed to her she had no strength for more than a whisper. +Had she been really so loud? And the deadly chill, the night that had +gone by her had left in her body, vanished from her limbs, passed out of +her in a flush. Her face was turned away from the light, and that +fact gave her courage to continue. Moreover, the man before her was so +detached from the shames and prides and schemes of life that he seemed +not to count at all, except that somehow or other he managed at times to +catch the mere literal sense of the words addressed to him--and answer +them. And answer them! Answer unfailingly, impersonally, without any +feeling. + +“You saw Tom--King Tom? Was he there? I mean just then, at the moment. +There was a light at the gangway. Was he on deck?” + +“No. In the boat.” + +“Already? Could I have been heard in the boat down there? You say the +whole ship heard me--and I don't care. But could he hear me?” + +“Was it Tom you were after?” said Jorgenson in the tone of a negligent +remark. + +“Can't you answer me?” she cried, angrily. + +“Tom was busy. No child's play. The boat shoved off,” said Jorgenson, as +if he were merely thinking aloud. + +“You won't tell me, then?” Mrs. Travers apostrophized him, fearlessly. +She was not afraid of Jorgenson. Just then she was afraid of nothing and +nobody. And Jorgenson went on thinking aloud. + +“I guess he will be kept busy from now on and so shall I.” + +Mrs. Travers seemed ready to take by the shoulders and shake that +dead-voiced spectre till it begged for mercy. But suddenly her strong +white arms fell down by her side, the arms of an exhausted woman. + +“I shall never, never find out,” she whispered to herself. + +She cast down her eyes in intolerable humiliation, in intolerable +desire, as though she had veiled her face. Not a sound reached the +loneliness of her thought. But when she raised her eyes again Jorgenson +was no longer standing before her. + +For an instant she saw him all black in the brilliant and narrow +doorway, and the next moment he had vanished outside, as if devoured by +the hot blaze of light. The sun had risen on the Shore of Refuge. + +When Mrs. Travers came out on deck herself it was as it were with a +boldly unveiled face, with wide-open and dry, sleepless eyes. Their +gaze, undismayed by the sunshine, sought the innermost heart of things +each day offered to the passion of her dread and of her impatience. The +lagoon, the beach, the colours and the shapes struck her more than ever +as a luminous painting on an immense cloth hiding the movements of an +inexplicable life. She shaded her eyes with her hand. There were figures +on the beach, moving dark dots on the white semicircle bounded by the +stockades, backed by roof ridges above the palm groves. Further back the +mass of carved white coral on the roof of the mosque shone like a white +day-star. Religion and politics--always politics! To the left, before +Tengga's enclosure, the loom of fire had changed into a pillar of smoke. +But there were some big trees over there and she couldn't tell whether +the night council had prolonged its sitting. Some vague forms were still +moving there and she could picture them to herself: Daman, the supreme +chief of sea-robbers, with a vengeful heart and the eyes of a gazelle; +Sentot, the sour fanatic with the big turban, that other saint with +a scanty loin cloth and ashes in his hair, and Tengga whom she could +imagine from hearsay, fat, good-tempered, crafty, but ready to spill +blood on his ambitious way and already bold enough to flaunt a yellow +state umbrella at the very gate of Belarab's stockade--so they said. + +She saw, she imagined, she even admitted now the reality of those +things no longer a mere pageant marshalled for her vision with barbarous +splendour and savage emphasis. She questioned it no longer--but she did +not feel it in her soul any more than one feels the depth of the sea +under its peaceful glitter or the turmoil of its grey fury. Her eyes +ranged afar, unbelieving and fearful--and then all at once she became +aware of the empty Cage with its interior in disorder, the camp +bedsteads not taken away, a pillow lying on the deck, the dying flame +like a shred of dull yellow stuff inside the lamp left hanging over +the table. The whole struck her as squalid and as if already decayed, +a flimsy and idle phantasy. But Jorgenson, seated on the deck with his +back to it, was not idle. His occupation, too, seemed fantastic and so +truly childish that her heart sank at the man's utter absorption in it. +Jorgenson had before him, stretched on the deck, several bits of rather +thin and dirty-looking rope of different lengths from a couple of inches +to about a foot. He had (an idiot might have amused himself in that +way) set fire to the ends of them. They smouldered with amazing energy, +emitting now and then a splutter, and in the calm air within the +bulwarks sent up very slender, exactly parallel threads of smoke, +each with a vanishing curl at the end; and the absorption with which +Jorgenson gave himself up to that pastime was enough to shake all +confidence in his sanity. + +In one half-opened hand he was holding the watch. He was also provided +with a scrap of paper and the stump of a pencil. Mrs. Travers was +confident that he did not either hear or see her. + +“Captain Jorgenson, you no doubt think. . . .” + +He tried to wave her away with the stump of the pencil. He did not want +to be interrupted in his strange occupation. He was playing very gravely +indeed with those bits of string. “I lighted them all together,” he +murmured, keeping one eye on the dial of the watch. Just then the +shortest piece of string went out, utterly consumed. Jorgenson made +a hasty note and remained still while Mrs. Travers looked at him with +stony eyes thinking that nothing in the world was any use. The other +threads of smoke went on vanishing in spirals before the attentive +Jorgenson. + +“What are you doing?” asked Mrs. Travers, drearily. + +“Timing match . . . precaution. . . .” + +He had never in Mrs. Travers' experience been less spectral than then. +He displayed a weakness of the flesh. He was impatient at her intrusion. +He divided his attention between the threads of smoke and the face of +the watch with such interest that the sudden reports of several guns +breaking for the first time for days the stillness of the lagoon and the +illusion of the painted scene failed to make him raise his head. He only +jerked it sideways a little. Mrs. Travers stared at the wisps of +white vapour floating above Belarab's stockade. The series of sharp +detonations ceased and their combined echoes came back over the lagoon +like a long-drawn and rushing sigh. + +“What's this?” cried Mrs. Travers. + +“Belarab's come home,” said Jorgenson. + +The last thread of smoke disappeared and Jorgenson got up. He had lost +all interest in the watch and thrust it carelessly into his pocket, +together with the bit of paper and the stump of pencil. He had resumed +his aloofness from the life of men, but approaching the bulwark he +condescended to look toward Belarab's stockade. + +“Yes, he is home,” he said very low. + +“What's going to happen?” cried Mrs. Travers. “What's to be done?” + Jorgenson kept up his appearance of communing with himself. + +“I know what to do,” he mumbled. + +“You are lucky,” said Mrs. Travers, with intense bitterness. + +It seemed to her that she was abandoned by all the world. The opposite +shore of the lagoon had resumed its aspect of a painted scene that would +never roll up to disclose the truth behind its blinding and soulless +splendour. It seemed to her that she had said her last words to all of +them: to d'Alcacer, to her husband, to Lingard himself--and that they +had all gone behind the curtain forever out of her sight. Of all the +white men Jorgenson alone was left, that man who had done with life so +completely that his mere presence robbed it of all heat and mystery, +leaving nothing but its terrible, its revolting insignificance. And Mrs. +Travers was ready for revolt. She cried with suppressed passion: + +“Are you aware, Captain Jorgenson, that I am alive?” + +He turned his eyes on her, and for a moment she was daunted by their +cold glassiness. But before they could drive her away, something like +the gleam of a spark gave them an instant's animation. + +“I want to go and join them. I want to go ashore,” she said, firmly. +“There!” + +Her bare and extended arm pointed across the lagoon, and Jorgenson's +resurrected eyes glided along the white limb and wandered off into +space. + +“No boat,” he muttered. + +“There must be a canoe. I know there is a canoe. I want it.” + +She stepped forward compelling, commanding, trying to concentrate in +her glance all her will power, the sense of her own right to dispose of +herself and her claim to be served to the last moment of her life. It +was as if she had done nothing. Jorgenson didn't flinch. + +“Which of them are you after?” asked his blank, unringing voice. + +She continued to look at him; her face had stiffened into a severe mask; +she managed to say distinctly: + +“I suppose you have been asking yourself that question for some time, +Captain Jorgenson?” + +“No. I am asking you now.” + +His face disclosed nothing to Mrs. Travers' bold and weary eyes. +“What could you do over there?” Jorgenson added as merciless, as +irrepressible, and sincere as though he were the embodiment of that +inner voice that speaks in all of us at times and, like Jorgenson, is +offensive and difficult to answer. + +“Remember that I am not a shadow but a living woman still, Captain +Jorgenson. I can live and I can die. Send me over to share their fate.” + +“Sure you would like?” asked the roused Jorgenson in a voice that had an +unexpected living quality, a faint vibration which no man had known in +it for years. “There may be death in it,” he mumbled, relapsing into +indifference. + +“Who cares?” she said, recklessly. “All I want is to ask Tom a question +and hear his answer. That's what I would like. That's what I must have.” + + + +II + +Along the hot and gloomy forest path, neglected, overgrown and strangled +in the fierce life of the jungle, there came a faint rustle of leaves. +Jaffir, the servant of princes, the messenger of great men, walked, +stooping, with a broad chopper in his hand. He was naked from the waist +upward, his shoulders and arms were scratched and bleeding. A multitude +of biting insects made a cloud about his head. He had lost his costly +and ancient head-kerchief, and when in a slightly wider space he stopped +in a listening attitude anybody would have taken him for a fugitive. + +He waved his arms about, slapping his shoulders, the sides of his head, +his heaving flanks; then, motionless, listened again for a while. A +sound of firing, not so much made faint by distance as muffled by the +masses of foliage, reached his ears, dropping shots which he could have +counted if he had cared to. “There is fighting in the forest already,” + he thought. Then putting his head low in the tunnel of vegetation he +dashed forward out of the horrible cloud of flies, which he actually +managed for an instant to leave behind him. But it was not from the +cruelty of insects that he was flying, for no man could hope to drop +that escort, and Jaffir in his life of a faithful messenger had been +accustomed, if such an extravagant phrase may be used, to be eaten +alive. Bent nearly double he glided and dodged between the trees, +through the undergrowth, his brown body streaming with sweat, his firm +limbs gleaming like limbs of imperishable bronze through the mass +of green leaves that are forever born and forever dying. For all his +desperate haste he was no longer a fugitive; he was simply a man in a +tremendous hurry. His flight, which had begun with a bound and a rush +and a general display of great presence of mind, was a simple issue +from a critical situation. Issues from critical situations are generally +simple if one is quick enough to think of them in time. He became aware +very soon that the attempt to pursue him had been given up, but he had +taken the forest path and had kept up his pace because he had left his +Rajah and the lady Immada beset by enemies on the edge of the forest, as +good as captives to a party of Tengga's men. + +Belarab's hesitation had proved too much even for Hassim's hereditary +patience in such matters. It is but becoming that weighty negotiations +should be spread over many days, that the same requests and arguments +should be repeated in the same words, at many successive interviews, and +receive the same evasive answers. Matters of state demand the dignity of +such a procedure as if time itself had to wait on the power and wisdom +of rulers. Such are the proceedings of embassies and the dignified +patience of envoys. But at this time of crisis Hassim's impatience +obtained the upper hand; and though he never departed from the tradition +of soft speech and restrained bearing while following with his sister in +the train of the pious Belarab, he had his moments of anger, of anxiety, +of despondency. His friendships, his future, his country's destinies +were at stake, while Belarab's camp wandered deviously over the back +country as if influenced by the vacillation of the ruler's thought, the +very image of uncertain fate. + +Often no more than the single word “Good” was all the answer vouchsafed +to Hassim's daily speeches. The lesser men, companions of the Chief, +treated him with deference; but Hassim could feel the opposition from +the women's side of the camp working against his cause in subservience +to the mere caprice of the new wife, a girl quite gentle and kind to her +dependents, but whose imagination had run away with her completely and +had made her greedy for the loot of the yacht from mere simplicity and +innocence. What could Hassim, that stranger, wandering and poor, offer +for her acceptance? Nothing. The wealth of his far-off country was but +an idle tale, the talk of an exile looking for help. + +At night Hassim had to listen to the anguished doubts of Immada, the +only companion of his life, child of the same mother, brave as a man, +but in her fears a very woman. She whispered them to him far into the +night while the camp of the great Belarab was hushed in sleep and the +fires had sunk down to mere glowing embers. Hassim soothed her gravely. +But he, too, was a native of Wajo where men are more daring and quicker +of mind than other Malays. More energetic, too, and energy does not go +without an inner fire. Hassim lost patience and one evening he declared +to his sister Immada: “To-morrow we leave this ruler without a mind and +go back to our white friend.” + +Therefore next morning, letting the camp move on the direct road to +the settlement, Hassim and Immada took a course of their own. It was +a lonely path between the jungle and the clearings. They had two +attendants with them, Hassim's own men, men of Wajo; and so the lady +Immada, when she had a mind to, could be carried, after the manner of +the great ladies of Wajo who need not put foot to the ground unless they +like. The lady Immada, accustomed to the hardships that are the lot +of exiles, preferred to walk, but from time to time she let herself +be carried for a short distance out of regard for the feelings of her +attendants. The party made good time during the early hours, and Hassim +expected confidently to reach before evening the shore of the lagoon +at a spot very near the stranded Emma. At noon they rested in the shade +near a dark pool within the edge of the forest; and it was there that +Jaffir met them, much to his and their surprise. It was the occasion +of a long talk. Jaffir, squatting on his heels, discoursed in measured +tones. He had entranced listeners. The story of Carter's exploit amongst +the Shoals had not reached Belarab's camp. It was a great shock to +Hassim, but the sort of half smile with which he had been listening to +Jaffir never altered its character. It was the Princess Immada who cried +out in distress and wrung her hands. A deep silence fell. + +Indeed, before the fatal magnitude of the fact it seemed even to those +Malays that there was nothing to say and Jaffir, lowering his head, +respected his Prince's consternation. Then, before that feeling could +pass away from that small group of people seated round a few smouldering +sticks, the noisy approach of a large party of men made them all leap +to their feet. Before they could make another movement they perceived +themselves discovered. The men were armed as if bound on some warlike +expedition. Amongst them Sentot, in his loin cloth and with unbound wild +locks, capered and swung his arms about like the lunatic he was. The +others' astonishment made them halt, but their attitude was obviously +hostile. In the rear a portly figure flanked by two attendants carrying +swords was approaching prudently. Rajah Hassim resumed quietly his seat +on the trunk of a fallen tree, Immada rested her hand lightly on her +brother's shoulder, and Jaffir, squatting down again, looked at the +ground with all his faculties and every muscle of his body tensely on +the alert. + +“Tengga's fighters,” he murmured, scornfully. + +In the group somebody shouted, and was answered by shouts from afar. +There could be no thought of resistance. Hassim slipped the emerald +ring from his finger stealthily and Jaffir got hold of it by an almost +imperceptible movement. The Rajah did not even look at the trusty +messenger. + +“Fail not to give it to the white man,” he murmured. “Thy servant hears, +O Rajah. It's a charm of great power.” + +The shadows were growing to the westward. Everybody was silent, and +the shifting group of armed men seemed to have drifted closer. Immada, +drawing the end of a scarf across her face, confronted the advance +with only one eye exposed. On the flank of the armed men Sentot was +performing a slow dance but he, too, seemed to have gone dumb. + +“Now go,” breathed out Rajah Hassim, his gaze levelled into space +immovably. + +For a second or more Jaffir did not stir, then with a sudden leap from +his squatting posture he flew through the air and struck the jungle in +a great commotion of leaves, vanishing instantly like a swimmer diving +from on high. A deep murmur of surprise arose in the armed party, a +spear was thrown, a shot was fired, three or four men dashed into the +forest, but they soon returned crestfallen with apologetic smiles; while +Jaffir, striking an old path that seemed to lead in the right direction, +ran on in solitude, raising a rustle of leaves, with a naked parang in +his hand and a cloud of flies about his head. The sun declining to the +westward threw shafts of light across his dark path. He ran at a springy +half-trot, his eyes watchful, his broad chest heaving, and carrying +the emerald ring on the forefinger of a clenched hand as though he were +afraid it should slip off, fly off, be torn from him by an invisible +force, or spirited away by some enchantment. Who could tell what +might happen? There were evil forces at work in the world, powerful +incantations, horrible apparitions. The messenger of princes and of +great men, charged with the supreme appeal of his master, was afraid +in the deepening shade of the forest. Evil presences might have been +lurking in that gloom. Still the sun had not set yet. He could see its +face through the leaves as he skirted the shore of the lagoon. But what +if Allah's call should come to him suddenly and he die as he ran! + +He drew a long breath on the shore of the lagoon within about a hundred +yards from the stranded bows of the Emma. The tide was out and he +walked to the end of a submerged log and sent out a hail for a boat. +Jorgenson's voice answered. The sun had sunk behind the forest belt of +the coast. All was still as far as the eye could reach over the black +water. A slight breeze came along it and Jaffir on the brink, waiting +for a canoe, shivered a little. + +At the same moment Carter, exhausted by thirty hours of uninterrupted +toil at the head of whites and Malays in getting the yacht afloat, +dropped into Mrs. Travers' deck chair, on board the Hermit, said to the +devoted Wasub: “Let a good watch be kept to-night, old man,” glanced +contentedly at the setting sun and fell asleep. + + + +III + +There was in the bows of the Emma an elevated grating over the heel of +her bowsprit whence the eye could take in the whole range of her +deck and see every movement of her crew. It was a spot safe from +eaves-droppers, though, of course, exposed to view. The sun had just set +on the supreme content of Carter when Jorgenson and Jaffir sat down +side by side between the knightheads of the Emma and, public but +unapproachable, impressive and secret, began to converse in low tones. + +Every Wajo fugitive who manned the hulk felt the approach of a decisive +moment. Their minds were made up and their hearts beat steadily. They +were all desperate men determined to fight and to die and troubling not +about the manner of living or dying. This was not the case with Mrs. +Travers who, having shut herself up in the deckhouse, was profoundly +troubled about those very things, though she, too, felt desperate enough +to welcome almost any solution. + +Of all the people on board she alone did not know anything of that +conference. In her deep and aimless thinking she had only become aware +of the absence of the slightest sound on board the Emma. Not a rustle, +not a footfall. The public view of Jorgenson and Jaffir in deep +consultation had the effect of taking all wish to move from every man. + +Twilight enveloped the two figures forward while they talked, looking in +the stillness of their pose like carved figures of European and Asiatic +contrasted in intimate contact. The deepening dusk had nearly effaced +them when at last they rose without warning, as it were, and thrilling +the heart of the beholders by the sudden movement. But they did not +separate at once. They lingered in their high place as if awaiting the +fall of complete darkness, a fit ending to their mysterious communion. +Jaffir had given Jorgenson the whole story of the ring, the symbol of a +friendship matured and confirmed on the night of defeat, on the night of +flight from a far-distant land sleeping unmoved under the wrath and fire +of heaven. + +“Yes, Tuan,” continued Jaffir, “it was first sent out to the white man, +on a night of mortal danger, a present to remember a friend by. I was +the bearer of it then even as I am now. Then, as now, it was given to me +and I was told to save myself and hand the ring over in confirmation of +my message. I did so and that white man seemed to still the very storm +to save my Rajah. He was not one to depart and forget him whom he had +once called his friend. My message was but a message of good-bye, but +the charm of the ring was strong enough to draw all the power of that +white man to the help of my master. Now I have no words to say. Rajah +Hassim asks for nothing. But what of that? By the mercy of Allah all +things are the same, the compassion of the Most High, the power of +the ring, the heart of the white man. Nothing is changed, only the +friendship is a little older and love has grown because of the shared +dangers and long companionship. Therefore, Tuan, I have no fear. But how +am I to get the ring to the Rajah Laut? Just hand it to him. The last +breath would be time enough if they were to spear me at his feet. But +alas! the bush is full of Tengga's men, the beach is open and I could +never even hope to reach the gate.” + +Jorgenson, with his hands deep in the pockets of his tunic, listened, +looking down. Jaffir showed as much consternation as his nature was +capable of. + +“Our refuge is with God,” he murmured. “But what is to be done? Has your +wisdom no stratagem, O Tuan?” + +Jorgenson did not answer. It appeared as though he had no stratagem. But +God is great and Jaffir waited on the other's immobility, anxious but +patient, perplexed yet hopeful in his grim way, while the night flowing +on from the dark forest near by hid their two figures from the sight +of observing men. Before the silence of Jorgenson Jaffir began to talk +practically. Now that Tengga had thrown off the mask Jaffir did not +think that he could land on the beach without being attacked, captured, +nay killed, since a man like he, though he could save himself by taking +flight at the order of his master, could not be expected to surrender +without a fight. He mentioned that in the exercise of his important +functions he knew how to glide like a shadow, creep like a snake, and +almost burrow his way underground. He was Jaffir who had never been +foiled. No bog, morass, great river or jungle could stop him. He would +have welcomed them. In many respects they were the friends of a crafty +messenger. But that was an open beach, and there was no other way, and +as things stood now every bush around, every tree trunk, every deep +shadow of house or fence would conceal Tengga's men or such of Daman's +infuriated partisans as had already made their way to the Settlement. +How could he hope to traverse the distance between the water's edge +and Belarab's gate which now would remain shut night and day? Not only +himself but anybody from the Emma would be sure to be rushed upon and +speared in twenty places. + +He reflected for a moment in silence. + +“Even you, Tuan, could not accomplish the feat.” + +“True,” muttered Jorgenson. + +When, after a period of meditation, he looked round, Jaffir was no +longer by his side. He had descended from the high place and was +probably squatting on his heels in some dark nook on the fore deck. +Jorgenson knew Jaffir too well to suppose that he would go to sleep. +He would sit there thinking himself into a state of fury, then get away +from the Emma in some way or other, go ashore and perish fighting. He +would, in fact, run amok; for it looked as if there could be no way out +of the situation. Then, of course, Lingard would know nothing of Hassim +and Immada's captivity for the ring would never reach him--the ring that +could tell its own tale. No, Lingard would know nothing. He would know +nothing about anybody outside Belarab's stockade till the end came, +whatever the end might be, for all those people that lived the life of +men. Whether to know or not to know would be good for Lingard Jorgenson +could not tell. He admitted to himself that here there was something +that he, Jorgenson, could not tell. All the possibilities were wrapped +up in doubt, uncertain, like all things pertaining to the life of men. +It was only when giving a short thought to himself that Jorgenson had no +doubt. He, of course, would know what to do. + +On the thin face of that old adventurer hidden in the night not a +feature moved, not a muscle twitched, as he descended in his turn and +walked aft along the decks of the Emma. His faded eyes, which had seen +so much, did not attempt to explore the night, they never gave a glance +to the silent watchers against whom he brushed. Had a light been flashed +on him suddenly he would have appeared like a man walking in his sleep: +the somnambulist of an eternal dream. Mrs. Travers heard his footsteps +pass along the side of the deckhouse. She heard them--and let her head +fall again on her bare arms thrown over the little desk before which she +sat. + +Jorgenson, standing by the taffrail, noted the faint reddish glow in the +massive blackness of the further shore. Jorgenson noted things quickly, +cursorily, perfunctorily, as phenomena unrelated to his own apparitional +existence of a visiting ghost. They were but passages in the game of men +who were still playing at life. He knew too well how much that game was +worth to be concerned about its course. He had given up the habit +of thinking for so long that the sudden resumption of it irked him +exceedingly, especially as he had to think on toward a conclusion. In +that world of eternal oblivion, of which he had tasted before Lingard +made him step back into the life of men, all things were settled +once for all. He was irritated by his own perplexity which was like a +reminder of that mortality made up of questions and passions from which +he had fancied he had freed himself forever. By a natural association +his contemptuous annoyance embraced the existence of Mrs. Travers, too, +for how could he think of Tom Lingard, of what was good or bad for King +Tom, without thinking also of that woman who had managed to put the +ghost of a spark even into his own extinguished eyes? She was of no +account; but Tom's integrity was. It was of Tom that he had to think, of +what was good or bad for Tom in that absurd and deadly game of his life. +Finally he reached the conclusion that to be given the ring would be +good for Tom Lingard. Just to be given the ring and no more. The ring +and no more. + +“It will help him to make up his mind,” muttered Jorgenson in his +moustache, as if compelled by an obscure conviction. It was only then +that he stirred slightly and turned away from the loom of the fires on +the distant shore. Mrs. Travers heard his footsteps passing again along +the side of the deckhouse--and this time never raised her head. That +man was sleepless, mad, childish, and inflexible. He was impossible. He +haunted the decks of that hulk aimlessly. . . . + +It was, however, in pursuance of a very distinct aim that Jorgenson had +gone forward again to seek Jaffir. + +The first remark he had to offer to Jaffir's consideration was that +the only person in the world who had the remotest chance of reaching +Belarab's gate on that night was that tall white woman the Rajah Laut +had brought on board, the wife of one of the captive white chiefs. +Surprise made Jaffir exclaim, but he wasn't prepared to deny that. It +was possible that for many reasons, some quite simple and others very +subtle, those sons of the Evil One belonging to Tengga and Daman would +refrain from killing a white woman walking alone from the water's +edge to Belarab's gate. Yes, it was just possible that she might walk +unharmed. + +“Especially if she carried a blazing torch,” muttered Jorgenson in his +moustache. He told Jaffir that she was sitting now in the dark, mourning +silently in the manner of white women. She had made a great outcry in +the morning to be allowed to join the white men on shore. He, Jorgenson, +had refused her the canoe. Ever since she had secluded herself in the +deckhouse in great distress. + +Jaffir listened to it all without particular sympathy. And when +Jorgenson added, “It is in my mind, O Jaffir, to let her have her will +now,” he answered by a “Yes, by Allah! let her go. What does it matter?” + of the greatest unconcern, till Jorgenson added: + +“Yes. And she may carry the ring to the Rajah Laut.” + +Jorgenson saw Jaffir, the grim and impassive Jaffir, give a perceptible +start. It seemed at first an impossible task to persuade Jaffir to part +with the ring. The notion was too monstrous to enter his mind, to move +his heart. But at last he surrendered in an awed whisper, “God is great. +Perhaps it is her destiny.” + +Being a Wajo man he did not regard women as untrustworthy or unequal +to a task requiring courage and judgment. Once he got over the personal +feeling he handed the ring to Jorgenson with only one reservation, “You +know, Tuan, that she must on no account put it on her finger.” + +“Let her hang it round her neck,” suggested Jorgenson, readily. + +As Jorgenson moved toward the deckhouse it occurred to him that perhaps +now that woman Tom Lingard had taken in tow might take it into her head +to refuse to leave the Emma. This did not disturb him very much. All +those people moved in the dark. He himself at that particular moment was +moving in the dark. Beyond the simple wish to guide Lingard's thought in +the direction of Hassim and Immada, to help him to make up his mind at +last to a ruthless fidelity to his purpose Jorgenson had no other aim. +The existence of those whites had no meaning on earth. They were the +sort of people that pass without leaving footprints. That woman would +have to act in ignorance. And if she refused to go then in ignorance she +would have to stay on board. He would tell her nothing. + +As a matter of fact, he discovered that Mrs. Travers would simply have +nothing to do with him. She would not listen to what he had to say. She +desired him, a mere weary voice confined in the darkness of the deck +cabin, to go away and trouble her no more. But the ghost of Jorgenson +was not easily exorcised. He, too, was a mere voice in the outer +darkness, inexorable, insisting that she should come out on deck and +listen. At last he found the right words to say. + +“It is something about Tom that I want to tell you. You wish him well, +don't you?” + +After this she could not refuse to come out on deck, and once there she +listened patiently to that white ghost muttering and mumbling above her +drooping head. + +“It seems to me, Captain Jorgenson,” she said after he had ceased, +“that you are simply trifling with me. After your behaviour to me this +morning, I can have nothing to say to you.” + +“I have a canoe for you now,” mumbled Jorgenson. + +“You have some new purpose in view now,” retorted Mrs. Travers with +spirit. “But you won't make it clear to me. What is it that you have in +your mind?” + +“Tom's interest.” + +“Are you really his friend?” + +“He brought me here. You know it. He has talked a lot to you.” + +“He did. But I ask myself whether you are capable of being anybody's +friend.” + +“You ask yourself!” repeated Jorgenson, very quiet and morose. “If I am +not his friend I should like to know who is.” + +Mrs. Travers asked, quickly: “What's all this about a ring? What ring?” + +“Tom's property. He has had it for years.” + +“And he gave it to you? Doesn't he care for it?” + +“Don't know. It's just a thing.” + +“But it has a meaning as between you and him. Is that so?” + +“Yes. It has. He will know what it means.” + +“What does it mean?” + +“I am too much his friend not to hold my tongue.” + +“What! To me!” + +“And who are you?” was Jorgenson's unexpected remark. “He has told you +too much already.” + +“Perhaps he has,” whispered Mrs. Travers, as if to herself. “And you +want that ring to be taken to him?” she asked, in a louder tone. + +“Yes. At once. For his good.” + +“Are you certain it is for his good? Why can't you. . . .” + +She checked herself. That man was hopeless. He would never tell +anything and there was no means of compelling him. He was invulnerable, +unapproachable. . . . He was dead. + +“Just give it to him,” mumbled Jorgenson as though pursuing a mere fixed +idea. “Just slip it quietly into his hand. He will understand.” + +“What is it? Advice, warning, signal for action?” + +“It may be anything,” uttered Jorgenson, morosely, but as it were in a +mollified tone. “It's meant for his good.” + +“Oh, if I only could trust that man!” mused Mrs. Travers, half aloud. + +Jorgenson's slight noise in the throat might have been taken for an +expression of sympathy. But he remained silent. + +“Really, this is most extraordinary!” cried Mrs. Travers, suddenly +aroused. “Why did you come to me? Why should it be my task? Why should +you want me specially to take it to him?” + +“I will tell you why,” said Jorgenson's blank voice. “It's because there +is no one on board this hulk that can hope to get alive inside that +stockade. This morning you told me yourself that you were ready to +die--for Tom--or with Tom. Well, risk it then. You are the only one that +has half a chance to get through--and Tom, maybe, is waiting.” + +“The only one,” repeated Mrs. Travers with an abrupt movement forward +and an extended hand before which Jorgenson stepped back a pace. “Risk +it! Certainly! Where's that mysterious ring?” + +“I have got it in my pocket,” said Jorgenson, readily; yet nearly half +a minute elapsed before Mrs. Travers felt the characteristic shape being +pressed into her half-open palm. “Don't let anybody see it,” Jorgenson +admonished her in a murmur. “Hide it somewhere about you. Why not hang +it round your neck?” + +Mrs. Travers' hand remained firmly closed on the ring. “Yes, that will +do,” she murmured, hastily. “I'll be back in a moment. Get everything +ready.” With those words she disappeared inside the deckhouse and +presently threads of light appeared in the interstices of the boards. +Mrs. Travers had lighted a candle in there. She was busy hanging that +ring round her neck. She was going. Yes--taking the risk for Tom's sake. + +“Nobody can resist that man,” Jorgenson muttered to himself with +increasing moroseness. “_I_ couldn't.” + + +IV + +Jorgenson, after seeing the canoe leave the ship's side, ceased to live +intellectually. There was no need for more thinking, for any display +of mental ingenuity. He had done with it all. All his notions were +perfectly fixed and he could go over them in the same ghostly way in +which he haunted the deck of the Emma. At the sight of the ring Lingard +would return to Hassim and Immada, now captives, too, though Jorgenson +certainly did not think them in any serious danger. What had happened +really was that Tengga was now holding hostages, and those Jorgenson +looked upon as Lingard's own people. They were his. He had gone in with +them deep, very deep. They had a hold and a claim on King Tom just as +many years ago people of that very race had had a hold and a claim +on him, Jorgenson. Only Tom was a much bigger man. A very big man. +Nevertheless, Jorgenson didn't see why he should escape his own +fate--Jorgenson's fate--to be absorbed, captured, made their own either +in failure or in success. It was an unavoidable fatality and Jorgenson +felt certain that the ring would compel Lingard to face it without +flinching. What he really wanted Lingard to do was to cease to take the +slightest interest in those whites--who were the sort of people that +left no footprints. + +Perhaps at first sight, sending that woman to Lingard was not the best +way toward that end. Jorgenson, however, had a distinct impression in +which his morning talk with Mrs. Travers had only confirmed him, that +those two had quarrelled for good. As, indeed, was unavoidable. What did +Tom Lingard want with any woman? The only woman in Jorgenson's life had +come in by way of exchange for a lot of cotton stuffs and several +brass guns. This fact could not but affect Jorgenson's judgment since +obviously in this case such a transaction was impossible. Therefore +the case was not serious. It didn't exist. What did exist was Lingard's +relation to the Wajo exiles, a great and warlike adventure such as no +rover in those seas had ever attempted. + +That Tengga was much more ready to negotiate than to fight, the old +adventurer had not the slightest doubt. How Lingard would deal with him +was not a concern of Jorgenson's. That would be easy enough. Nothing +prevented Lingard from going to see Tengga and talking to him with +authority. All that ambitious person really wanted was to have a share +in Lingard's wealth, in Lingard's power, in Lingard's friendship. A year +before Tengga had once insinuated to Jorgenson, “In what way am I less +worthy of being a friend than Belarab?” + +It was a distinct overture, a disclosure of the man's innermost mind. +Jorgenson, of course, had met it with a profound silence. His task was +not diplomacy but the care of stores. + +After the effort of connected mental processes in order to bring about +Mrs. Travers' departure he was anxious to dismiss the whole matter from +his mind. The last thought he gave to it was severely practical. It +occurred to him that it would be advisable to attract in some way or +other Lingard's attention to the lagoon. In the language of the sea +a single rocket is properly a signal of distress, but, in the +circumstances, a group of three sent up simultaneously would convey a +warning. He gave his orders and watched the rockets go up finely with a +trail of red sparks, a bursting of white stars high up in the air, and +three loud reports in quick succession. Then he resumed his pacing of +the whole length of the hulk, confident that after this Tom would guess +that something was up and set a close watch over the lagoon. No doubt +these mysterious rockets would have a disturbing effect on Tengga and +his friends and cause a great excitement in the Settlement; but for that +Jorgenson did not care. The Settlement was already in such a turmoil +that a little more excitement did not matter. What Jorgenson did not +expect, however, was the sound of a musket-shot fired from the jungle +facing the bows of the Emma. It caused him to stop dead short. He had +heard distinctly the bullet strike the curve of the bow forward. “Some +hot-headed ass fired that,” he said to himself, contemptuously. It +simply disclosed to him the fact that he was already besieged on the +shore side and set at rest his doubts as to the length Tengga was +prepared to go. Any length! Of course there was still time for Tom to +put everything right with six words, unless . . . Jorgenson smiled, +grimly, in the dark and resumed his tireless pacing. + +What amused him was to observe the fire which had been burning night +and day before Tengga's residence suddenly extinguished. He pictured +to himself the wild rush with bamboo buckets to the lagoon shore, the +confusion, the hurry and jostling in a great hissing of water midst +clouds of steam. The image of the fat Tengga's consternation appealed to +Jorgenson's sense of humour for about five seconds. Then he took up the +binoculars from the roof of the deckhouse. + +The bursting of the three white stars over the lagoon had given him +a momentary glimpse of the black speck of the canoe taking over Mrs. +Travers. He couldn't find it again with the glass, it was too dark; but +the part of the shore for which it was steered would be somewhere near +the angle of Belarab's stockade nearest to the beach. This Jorgenson +could make out in the faint rosy glare of fires burning inside. +Jorgenson was certain that Lingard was looking toward the Emma through +the most convenient loophole he could find. + +As obviously Mrs. Travers could not have paddled herself across, two men +were taking her over; and for the steersman she had Jaffir. Though he +had assented to Jorgenson's plan Jaffir was anxious to accompany the +ring as near as possible to its destination. Nothing but dire necessity +had induced him to part with the talisman. Crouching in the stern and +flourishing his paddle from side to side he glared at the back of the +canvas deck-chair which had been placed in the middle for Mrs. Travers. +Wrapped up in the darkness she reclined in it with her eyes closed, +faintly aware of the ring hung low on her breast. As the canoe was +rather large it was moving very slowly. The two men dipped their paddles +without a splash: and surrendering herself passively, in a temporary +relaxation of all her limbs, to this adventure Mrs. Travers had no sense +of motion at all. She, too, like Jorgenson, was tired of thinking. She +abandoned herself to the silence of that night full of roused passions +and deadly purposes. She abandoned herself to an illusory feeling; to +the impression that she was really resting. For the first time in many +days she could taste the relief of being alone. The men with her were +less than nothing. She could not speak to them; she could not understand +them; the canoe might have been moving by enchantment--if it did move +at all. Like a half-conscious sleeper she was on the verge of saying to +herself, “What a strange dream I am having.” + +The low tones of Jaffir's voice stole into it quietly telling the men to +cease paddling, and the long canoe came to a rest slowly, no more than +ten yards from the beach. The party had been provided with a torch which +was to be lighted before the canoe touched the shore, thus giving a +character of openness to this desperate expedition. “And if it draws +fire on us,” Jaffir had commented to Jorgenson, “well, then, we shall +see whose fate it is to die on this night.” + +“Yes,” had muttered Jorgenson. “We shall see.” + +Jorgenson saw at last the small light of the torch against the blackness +of the stockade. He strained his hearing for a possible volley of +musketry fire but no sound came to him over the broad surface of the +lagoon. Over there the man with the torch, the other paddler, and Jaffir +himself impelling with a gentle motion of his paddle the canoe toward +the shore, had the glistening eyeballs and the tense faces of silent +excitement. The ruddy glare smote Mrs. Travers' closed eyelids but she +didn't open her eyes till she felt the canoe touch the strand. The two +men leaped instantly out of it. Mrs. Travers rose, abruptly. Nobody made +a sound. She stumbled out of the canoe on to the beach and almost before +she had recovered her balance the torch was thrust into her hand. +The heat, the nearness of the blaze confused and blinded her till, +instinctively, she raised the torch high above her head. For a moment +she stood still, holding aloft the fierce flame from which a few sparks +were falling slowly. + +A naked bronze arm lighted from above pointed out the direction and Mrs. +Travers began to walk toward the featureless black mass of the stockade. +When after a few steps she looked back over her shoulder, the lagoon, +the beach, the canoe, the men she had just left had become already +invisible. She was alone bearing up a blazing torch on an earth that was +a dumb shadow shifting under her feet. At last she reached firmer ground +and the dark length of the palisade untouched as yet by the light of the +torch seemed to her immense, intimidating. She felt ready to drop from +sheer emotion. But she moved on. + +“A little more to the left,” shouted a strong voice. + +It vibrated through all her fibres, rousing like the call of a trumpet, +went far beyond her, filled all the space. Mrs. Travers stood still for +a moment, then casting far away from her the burning torch ran forward +blindly with her hands extended toward the great sound of Lingard's +voice, leaving behind her the light flaring and spluttering on the +ground. She stumbled and was only saved from a fall by her hands coming +in contact with the rough stakes. The stockade rose high above her +head and she clung to it with widely open arms, pressing her whole body +against the rugged surface of that enormous and unscalable palisade. She +heard through it low voices inside, heavy thuds; and felt at every blow +a slight vibration of the ground under her feet. She glanced fearfully +over her shoulder and saw nothing in the darkness but the expiring glow +of the torch she had thrown away and the sombre shimmer of the lagoon +bordering the opaque darkness of the shore. Her strained eyeballs seemed +to detect mysterious movements in the darkness and she gave way to +irresistible terror, to a shrinking agony of apprehension. Was she to be +transfixed by a broad blade, to the high, immovable wall of wood against +which she was flattening herself desperately, as though she could hope +to penetrate it by the mere force of her fear? She had no idea where +she was, but as a matter of fact she was a little to the left of the +principal gate and almost exactly under one of the loopholes of the +stockade. Her excessive anguish passed into insensibility. She ceased to +hear, to see, and even to feel the contact of the surface to which +she clung. Lingard's voice somewhere from the sky above her head was +directing her, distinct, very close, full of concern. + +“You must stoop low. Lower yet.” + +The stagnant blood of her body began to pulsate languidly. She stooped +low--lower yet--so low that she had to sink on her knees, and then +became aware of a faint smell of wood smoke mingled with the confused +murmur of agitated voices. This came to her through an opening no higher +than her head in her kneeling posture, and no wider than the breadth of +two stakes. Lingard was saying in a tone of distress: + +“I couldn't get any of them to unbar the gate.” + +She was unable to make a sound.--“Are you there?” Lingard asked, +anxiously, so close to her now that she seemed to feel the very breath +of his words on her face. It revived her completely; she understood what +she had to do. She put her head and shoulders through the opening, was +at once seized under the arms by an eager grip and felt herself pulled +through with an irresistible force and with such haste that her scarf +was dragged off her head, its fringes having caught in the rough timber. +The same eager grip lifted her up, stood her on her feet without her +having to make any exertion toward that end. She became aware that +Lingard was trying to say something, but she heard only a confused +stammering expressive of wonder and delight in which she caught the +words “You . . . you . . .” deliriously repeated. He didn't release his +hold of her; his helpful and irresistible grip had changed into a close +clasp, a crushing embrace, the violent taking possession by an embodied +force that had broken loose and was not to be controlled any longer. +As his great voice had done a moment before, his great strength, +too, seemed able to fill all space in its enveloping and undeniable +authority. Every time she tried instinctively to stiffen herself against +its might, it reacted, affirming its fierce will, its uplifting power. +Several times she lost the feeling of the ground and had a sensation of +helplessness without fear, of triumph without exultation. The inevitable +had come to pass. She had foreseen it--and all the time in that dark +place and against the red glow of camp fires within the stockade the +man in whose arms she struggled remained shadowy to her eyes--to her +half-closed eyes. She thought suddenly, “He will crush me to death +without knowing it.” + +He was like a blind force. She closed her eyes altogether. Her head fell +back a little. Not instinctively but with wilful resignation and as +it were from a sense of justice she abandoned herself to his arms. The +effect was as though she had suddenly stabbed him to the heart. He let +her go so suddenly and completely that she would have fallen down in +a heap if she had not managed to catch hold of his forearm. He seemed +prepared for it and for a moment all her weight hung on it without +moving its rigidity by a hair's breadth. Behind her Mrs. Travers heard +the heavy thud of blows on wood, the confused murmurs and movements of +men. + +A voice said suddenly, “It's done,” with such emphasis that though, +of course, she didn't understand the words it helped her to regain +possession of herself; and when Lingard asked her very little above a +whisper: “Why don't you say something?” she answered readily, “Let me +get my breath first.” + +Round them all sounds had ceased. The men had secured again the +opening through which those arms had snatched her into a moment of +self-forgetfulness which had left her out of breath but uncrushed. As +if something imperative had been satisfied she had a moment of inward +serenity, a period of peace without thought while, holding to that arm +that trembled no more than an arm of iron, she felt stealthily over the +ground for one of the sandals which she had lost. Oh, yes, there was no +doubt of it, she had been carried off the earth, without shame, without +regret. But she would not have let him know of that dropped sandal for +anything in the world. That lost sandal was as symbolic as a dropped +veil. But he did not know of it. He must never know. Where was that +thing? She felt sure that they had not moved an inch from that spot. +Presently her foot found it and still gripping Lingard's forearm she +stooped to secure it properly. When she stood up, still holding his arm, +they confronted each other, he rigid in an effort of self-command but +feeling as if the surges of the heaviest sea that he could remember in +his life were running through his heart; and the woman as if emptied +of all feeling by her experience, without thought yet, but beginning to +regain her sense of the situation and the memory of the immediate past. + +“I have been watching at that loophole for an hour, ever since they came +running to me with that story of the rockets,” said Lingard. “I was shut +up with Belarab then. I was looking out when the torch blazed and you +stepped ashore. I thought I was dreaming. But what could I do? I felt I +must rush to you but I dared not. That clump of palms is full of men. So +are the houses you saw that time you came ashore with me. Full of men. +Armed men. A trigger is soon pulled and when once shooting begins. . . . +And you walking in the open with that light above your head! I didn't +dare. You were safer alone. I had the strength to hold myself in and +watch you come up from the shore. No! No man that ever lived had seen +such a sight. What did you come for?” + +“Didn't you expect somebody? I don't mean me, I mean a messenger?” + +“No!” said Lingard, wondering at his own self-control. “Why did he let +you come?” + +“You mean Captain Jorgenson? Oh, he refused at first. He said that he +had your orders.” + +“How on earth did you manage to get round him?” said Lingard in his +softest tones. + +“I did not try,” she began and checked herself. Lingard's question, +though he really didn't seem to care much about an answer, had aroused +afresh her suspicion of Jorgenson's change of front. “I didn't have +to say very much at the last,” she continued, gasping yet a little and +feeling her personality, crushed to nothing in the hug of those arms, +expand again to its full significance before the attentive immobility +of that man. “Captain Jorgenson has always looked upon me as a nuisance. +Perhaps he had made up his mind to get rid of me even against your +orders. Is he quite sane?” + +She released her firm hold of that iron forearm which fell slowly +by Lingard's side. She had regained fully the possession of her +personality. There remained only a fading, slightly breathless +impression of a short flight above that earth on which her feet were +firmly planted now. “And is that all?” she asked herself, not bitterly, +but with a sort of tender contempt. + +“He is so sane,” sounded Lingard's voice, gloomily, “that if I had +listened to him you would not have found me here.” + +“What do you mean by here? In this stockade?” + +“Anywhere,” he said. + +“And what would have happened then?” + +“God knows,” he answered. “What would have happened if the world had not +been made in seven days? I have known you for just about that time. It +began by me coming to you at night--like a thief in the night. Where the +devil did I hear that? And that man you are married to thinks I am no +better than a thief.” + +“It ought to be enough for you that I never made a mistake as to what +you are, that I come to you in less than twenty-four hours after you +left me contemptuously to my distress. Don't pretend you didn't hear me +call after you. Oh, yes, you heard. The whole ship heard me for I had no +shame.” + +“Yes, you came,” said Lingard, violently. “But have you really come? I +can't believe my eyes! Are you really here?” + +“This is a dark spot, luckily,” said Mrs. Travers. “But can you really +have any doubt?” she added, significantly. + +He made a sudden movement toward her, betraying so much passion that +Mrs. Travers thought, “I shan't come out alive this time,” and yet he +was there, motionless before her, as though he had never stirred. It +was more as though the earth had made a sudden movement under his feet +without being able to destroy his balance. But the earth under Mrs. +Travers' feet had made no movement and for a second she was overwhelmed +by wonder not at this proof of her own self-possession but at the man's +immense power over himself. If it had not been for her strange inward +exhaustion she would perhaps have surrendered to that power. But it +seemed to her that she had nothing in her worth surrendering, and it +was in a perfectly even tone that she said, “Give me your arm, Captain +Lingard. We can't stay all night on this spot.” + +As they moved on she thought, “There is real greatness in that man.” + He was great even in his behaviour. No apologies, no explanations, no +abasement, no violence, and not even the slightest tremor of the frame +holding that bold and perplexed soul. She knew that for certain because +her fingers were resting lightly on Lingard's arm while she walked +slowly by his side as though he were taking her down to dinner. And yet +she couldn't suppose for a moment, that, like herself, he was emptied of +all emotion. She never before was so aware of him as a dangerous force. +“He is really ruthless,” she thought. They had just left the shadow of +the inner defences about the gate when a slightly hoarse, apologetic +voice was heard behind them repeating insistently, what even Mrs. +Travers' ear detected to be a sort of formula. The words were: “There +is this thing--there is this thing--there is this thing.” They turned +round. + +“Oh, my scarf,” said Mrs. Travers. + +A short, squat, broad-faced young fellow having for all costume a pair +of white drawers was offering the scarf thrown over both his arms, as +if they had been sticks, and holding it respectfully as far as possible +from his person. Lingard took it from him and Mrs. Travers claimed it +at once. “Don't forget the proprieties,” she said. “This is also my face +veil.” + +She was arranging it about her head when Lingard said, “There is no +need. I am taking you to those gentlemen.”--“I will use it all the +same,” said Mrs. Travers. “This thing works both ways, as a matter of +propriety or as a matter of precaution. Till I have an opportunity of +looking into a mirror nothing will persuade me that there isn't some +change in my face.” Lingard swung half round and gazed down at her. +Veiled now she confronted him boldly. “Tell me, Captain Lingard, how +many eyes were looking at us a little while ago?” + +“Do you care?” he asked. + +“Not in the least,” she said. “A million stars were looking on, too, and +what did it matter? They were not of the world I know. And it's just the +same with the eyes. They are not of the world I live in.” + +Lingard thought: “Nobody is.” Never before had she seemed to him more +unapproachable, more different and more remote. The glow of a number of +small fires lighted the ground only, and brought out the black bulk +of men lying down in the thin drift of smoke. Only one of these fires, +rather apart and burning in front of the house which was the quarter of +the prisoners, might have been called a blaze and even that was not a +great one. It didn't penetrate the dark space between the piles and the +depth of the verandah above where only a couple of heads and the glint +of a spearhead could be seen dimly in the play of the light. But down +on the ground outside, the black shape of a man seated on a bench had +an intense relief. Another intensely black shadow threw a handful of +brushwood on the fire and went away. The man on the bench got up. It was +d'Alcacer. He let Lingard and Mrs. Travers come quite close up to him. +Extreme surprise seemed to have made him dumb. + +“You didn't expect . . .” began Mrs. Travers with some embarrassment +before that mute attitude. + +“I doubted my eyes,” struck in d'Alcacer, who seemed embarrassed, too. +Next moment he recovered his tone and confessed simply: “At the moment +I wasn't thinking of you, Mrs. Travers.” He passed his hand over his +forehead. “I hardly know what I was thinking of.” + +In the light of the shooting-up flame Mrs. Travers could see d'Alcacer's +face. There was no smile on it. She could not remember ever seeing him +so grave and, as it were, so distant. She abandoned Lingard's arm and +moved closer to the fire. + +“I fancy you were very far away, Mr. d'Alcacer,” she said. + +“This is the sort of freedom of which nothing can deprive us,” he +observed, looking hard at the manner in which the scarf was drawn across +Mrs. Travers' face. “It's possible I was far away,” he went on, “but I +can assure you that I don't know where I was. Less than an hour ago we +had a great excitement here about some rockets, but I didn't share in +it. There was no one I could ask a question of. The captain here was, +I understood, engaged in a most momentous conversation with the king or +the governor of this place.” + +He addressed Lingard, directly. “May I ask whether you have reached any +conclusion as yet? That Moor is a very dilatory person, I believe.” + +“Any direct attack he would, of course, resist,” said Lingard. “And, so +far, you are protected. But I must admit that he is rather angry with +me. He's tired of the whole business. He loves peace above anything in +the world. But I haven't finished with him yet.” + +“As far as I understood from what you told me before,” said Mr. +d'Alcacer, with a quick side glance at Mrs. Travers' uncovered and +attentive eyes, “as far as I can see he may get all the peace he wants +at once by driving us two, I mean Mr. Travers and myself, out of the +gate on to the spears of those other enraged barbarians. And there are +some of his counsellors who advise him to do that very thing no later +than the break of day I understand.” + +Lingard stood for a moment perfectly motionless. + +“That's about it,” he said in an unemotional tone, and went away with +a heavy step without giving another look at d'Alcacer and Mrs. Travers, +who after a moment faced each other. + +“You have heard?” said d'Alcacer. “Of course that doesn't affect your +fate in any way, and as to him he is much too prestigious to be killed +light-heartedly. When all this is over you will walk triumphantly on his +arm out of this stockade; for there is nothing in all this to affect his +greatness, his absolute value in the eyes of those people--and indeed in +any other eyes.” D'Alcacer kept his glance averted from Mrs. Travers and +as soon as he had finished speaking busied himself in dragging the bench +a little way further from the fire. When they sat down on it he kept his +distance from Mrs. Travers. She made no sign of unveiling herself and +her eyes without a face seemed to him strangely unknown and disquieting. + +“The situation in a nutshell,” she said. “You have arranged it all +beautifully, even to my triumphal exit. Well, and what then? No, you +needn't answer, it has no interest. I assure you I came here not with +any notion of marching out in triumph, as you call it. I came here, to +speak in the most vulgar way, to save your skin--and mine.” + +Her voice came muffled to d'Alcacer's ears with a changed character, +even to the very intonation. Above the white and embroidered scarf her +eyes in the firelight transfixed him, black and so steady that even the +red sparks of the reflected glare did not move in them. He concealed the +strong impression she made. He bowed his head a little. + +“I believe you know perfectly well what you are doing.” + +“No! I don't know,” she said, more quickly than he had ever heard her +speak before. “First of all, I don't think he is so safe as you imagine. +Oh, yes, he has prestige enough, I don't question that. But you are +apportioning life and death with too much assurance. . . .” + +“I know my portion,” murmured d'Alcacer, gently. A moment of silence +fell in which Mrs. Travers' eyes ended by intimidating d'Alcacer, +who looked away. The flame of the fire had sunk low. In the dark +agglomeration of buildings, which might have been called Belarab's +palace, there was a certain animation, a flitting of people, voices +calling and answering, the passing to and fro of lights that would +illuminate suddenly a heavy pile, the corner of a house, the eaves of a +low-pitched roof, while in the open parts of the stockade the armed men +slept by the expiring fires. + +Mrs. Travers said, suddenly, “That Jorgenson is not friendly to us.” + +“Possibly.” + +With clasped hands and leaning over his knees d'Alcacer had assented +in a very low tone. Mrs. Travers, unobserved, pressed her hands to her +breast and felt the shape of the ring, thick, heavy, set with a big +stone. It was there, secret, hung against her heart, and enigmatic. What +did it mean? What could it mean? What was the feeling it could arouse or +the action it could provoke? And she thought with compunction that she +ought to have given it to Lingard at once, without thinking, without +hesitating. “There! This is what I came for. To give you this.” Yes, but +there had come an interval when she had been able to think of nothing, +and since then she had had the time to reflect--unfortunately. To +remember Jorgenson's hostile, contemptuous glance enveloping her from +head to foot at the break of a day after a night of lonely anguish. And +now while she sat there veiled from his keen sight there was that other +man, that d'Alcacer, prophesying. O yes, triumphant. She knew already +what that was. Mrs. Travers became afraid of the ring. She felt ready to +pluck it from her neck and cast it away. + +“I mistrust him,” she said.--“You do!” exclaimed d'Alcacer, +very low.--“I mean that Jorgenson. He seems a merciless sort of +creature.”--“He is indifferent to everything,” said d'Alcacer.--“It may +be a mask.”--“Have you some evidence, Mrs. Travers?” + +“No,” said Mrs. Travers without hesitation. “I have my instinct.” + +D'Alcacer remained silent for a while as though he were pursuing another +train of thought altogether, then in a gentle, almost playful tone: “If +I were a woman,” he said, turning to Mrs. Travers, “I would always trust +my intuition.”--“If you were a woman, Mr. d'Alcacer, I would not be +speaking to you in this way because then I would be suspect to you.” + +The thought that before long perhaps he would be neither man nor woman +but a lump of cold clay, crossed d'Alcacer's mind, which was living, +alert, and unsubdued by the danger. He had welcomed the arrival of Mrs. +Travers simply because he had been very lonely in that stockade, Mr. +Travers having fallen into a phase of sulks complicated with shivering +fits. Of Lingard d'Alcacer had seen almost nothing since they had +landed, for the Man of Fate was extremely busy negotiating in the +recesses of Belarab's main hut; and the thought that his life was being +a matter of arduous bargaining was not agreeable to Mr. d'Alcacer. The +Chief's dependents and the armed men garrisoning the stockade paid very +little attention to him apparently, and this gave him the feeling of his +captivity being very perfect and hopeless. During the afternoon, while +pacing to and fro in the bit of shade thrown by the glorified sort of +hut inside which Mr. Travers shivered and sulked misanthropically, he +had been aware of the more distant verandahs becoming filled now and +then by the muffled forms of women of Belarab's household taking a +distant and curious view of the white man. All this was irksome. He +found his menaced life extremely difficult to get through. Yes, he +welcomed the arrival of Mrs. Travers who brought with her a tragic note +into the empty gloom. + +“Suspicion is not in my nature, Mrs. Travers, I assure you, and I +hope that you on your side will never suspect either my reserve or my +frankness. I respect the mysterious nature of your conviction but hasn't +Jorgenson given you some occasion to. . .” + +“He hates me,” said Mrs. Travers, and frowned at d'Alcacer's incipient +smile. “It isn't a delusion on my part. The worst is that he hates me +not for myself. I believe he is completely indifferent to my existence. +Jorgenson hates me because as it were I represent you two who are in +danger, because it is you two that are the trouble and I . . . Well!” + +“Yes, yes, that's certain,” said d'Alcacer, hastily. “But Jorgenson is +wrong in making you the scapegoat. For if you were not here cool reason +would step in and would make Lingard pause in his passion to make a king +out of an exile. If we were murdered it would certainly make some stir +in the world in time and he would fall under the suspicion of complicity +with those wild and inhuman Moors. Who would regard the greatness of his +day-dreams, his engaged honour, his chivalrous feelings? Nothing could +save him from that suspicion. And being what he is, you understand me, +Mrs. Travers (but you know him much better than I do), it would morally +kill him.” + +“Heavens!” whispered Mrs. Travers. “This has never occurred to me.” + Those words seemed to lose themselves in the folds of the scarf without +reaching d'Alcacer, who continued in his gentle tone: + +'“However, as it is, he will be safe enough whatever happens. He will +have your testimony to clear him.” + +Mrs. Travers stood up, suddenly, but still careful to keep her face +covered, she threw the end of the scarf over her shoulder. + +“I fear that Jorgenson,” she cried with suppressed passion. “One can't +understand what that man means to do. I think him so dangerous that if I +were, for instance, entrusted with a message bearing on the situation, I +would . . . suppress it.” + +D'Alcacer was looking up from the seat, full of wonder. Mrs. Travers +appealed to him in a calm voice through the folds of the scarf: + +“Tell me, Mr. d'Alcacer, you who can look on it calmly, wouldn't I be +right?” + +“Why, has Jorgenson told you anything?” + +“Directly--nothing, except a phrase or two which really I could not +understand. They seemed to have a hidden sense and he appeared to attach +some mysterious importance to them that he dared not explain to me.” + +“That was a risk on his part,” exclaimed d'Alcacer. “And he trusted you. +Why you, I wonder!” + +“Who can tell what notions he has in his head? Mr. d'Alcacer, I believe +his only object is to call Captain Lingard away from us. I understood it +only a few minutes ago. It has dawned upon me. All he wants is to call +him off.” + +“Call him off,” repeated d'Alcacer, a little bewildered by the aroused +fire of her conviction. “I am sure I don't want him called off any more +than you do; and, frankly, I don't believe Jorgenson has any such power. +But upon the whole, and if you feel that Jorgenson has the power, I +would--yes, if I were in your place I think I would suppress anything I +could not understand.” + +Mrs. Travers listened to the very end. Her eyes--they appeared +incredibly sombre to d'Alcacer--seemed to watch the fall of every +deliberate word and after he had ceased they remained still for an +appreciable time. Then she turned away with a gesture that seemed to +say: “So be it.” + +D'Alcacer raised his voice suddenly after her. “Stay! Don't forget that +not only your husband's but my head, too, is being played at that game. +My judgment is not . . .” + +She stopped for a moment and freed her lips. In the profound stillness +of the courtyard her clear voice made the shadows at the nearest fires +stir a little with low murmurs of surprise. + +“Oh, yes, I remember whose heads I have to save,” she cried. “But in all +the world who is there to save that man from himself?” + + + +V + +D'Alcacer sat down on the bench again. “I wonder what she knows,” he +thought, “and I wonder what I have done.” He wondered also how far he +had been sincere and how far affected by a very natural aversion from +being murdered obscurely by ferocious Moors with all the circumstances +of barbarity. It was a very naked death to come upon one suddenly. It +was robbed of all helpful illusions, such as the free will of a suicide, +the heroism of a warrior, or the exaltation of a martyr. “Hadn't I +better make some sort of fight of it?” he debated with himself. He saw +himself rushing at the naked spears without any enthusiasm. Or wouldn't +it be better to go forth to meet his doom (somewhere outside the +stockade on that horrible beach) with calm dignity. “Pah! I shall be +probably speared through the back in the beastliest possible fashion,” + he thought with an inward shudder. It was certainly not a shudder of +fear, for Mr. d'Alcacer attached no high value to life. It was a shudder +of disgust because Mr. d'Alcacer was a civilized man and though he had +no illusions about civilization he could not but admit the superiority +of its methods. It offered to one a certain refinement of form, a +comeliness of proceedings and definite safeguards against deadly +surprises. “How idle all this is,” he thought, finally. His next thought +was that women were very resourceful. It was true, he went on meditating +with unwonted cynicism, that strictly speaking they had only one +resource but, generally, it served--it served. + +He was surprised by his supremely shameless bitterness at this juncture. +It was so uncalled for. This situation was too complicated to be +entrusted to a cynical or shameless hope. There was nothing to trust to. +At this moment of his meditation he became aware of Lingard's approach. +He raised his head eagerly. D'Alcacer was not indifferent to his fate +and even to Mr. Travers' fate. He would fain learn. . . . But one look +at Lingard's face was enough. “It's no use asking him anything,” he said +to himself, “for he cares for nothing just now.” + +Lingard sat down heavily on the other end of the bench, and d'Alcacer, +looking at his profile, confessed to himself that this was the most +masculinely good-looking face he had ever seen in his life. It was +an expressive face, too, but its present expression was also beyond +d'Alcacer's past experience. At the same time its quietness set up a +barrier against common curiosities and even common fears. No, it was +no use asking him anything. Yet something should be said to break the +spell, to call down again this man to the earth. But it was Lingard who +spoke first. “Where has Mrs. Travers gone?” + +“She has gone . . . where naturally she would be anxious to go first of +all since she has managed to come to us,” answered d'Alcacer, wording +his answer with the utmost regard for the delicacy of the situation. + +The stillness of Lingard seemed to have grown even more impressive. He +spoke again. + +“I wonder what those two can have to say to each other.” + +He might have been asking that of the whole darkened part of the globe, +but it was d'Alcacer who answered in his courteous tones. + +“Would it surprise you very much, Captain Lingard, if I were to tell you +that those two people are quite fit to understand each other thoroughly? +Yes? It surprises you! Well, I assure you that seven thousand miles from +here nobody would wonder.” + +“I think I understand,” said Lingard, “but don't you know the man is +light-headed? A man like that is as good as mad.” + +“Yes, he had been slightly delirious since seven o'clock,” said +d'Alcacer. “But believe me, Captain Lingard,” he continued, earnestly, +and obeying a perfectly disinterested impulse, “that even in his +delirium he is far more understandable to her and better able to +understand her than . . . anybody within a hundred miles from here.” + +“Ah!” said Lingard without any emotion, “so you don't wonder. You don't +see any reason for wonder.” + +“No, for, don't you see, I do know.” + +“What do you know?” + +“Men and women, Captain Lingard, which you. . . .” + +“I don't know any woman.” + +“You have spoken the strictest truth there,” said d'Alcacer, and for the +first time Lingard turned his head slowly and looked at his neighbour on +the bench. + +“Do you think she is as good as mad, too?” asked Lingard in a startled +voice. + +D'Alcacer let escape a low exclamation. No, certainly he did not think +so. It was an original notion to suppose that lunatics had a sort of +common logic which made them understandable to each other. D'Alcacer +tried to make his voice as gentle as possible while he pursued: “No, +Captain Lingard, I believe the woman of whom we speak is and will always +remain in the fullest possession of herself.” + +Lingard, leaning back, clasped his hands round his knees. He seemed +not to be listening and d'Alcacer, pulling a cigarette case out of his +pocket, looked for a long time at the three cigarettes it contained. It +was the last of the provision he had on him when captured. D'Alcacer +had put himself on the strictest allowance. A cigarette was only to be +lighted on special occasions; and now there were only three left and +they had to be made to last till the end of life. They calmed, they +soothed, they gave an attitude. And only three left! One had to be +kept for the morning, to be lighted before going through the gate of +doom--the gate of Belarab's stockade. A cigarette soothed, it gave an +attitude. Was this the fitting occasion for one of the remaining two? +D'Alcacer, a true Latin, was not afraid of a little introspection. In +the pause he descended into the innermost depths of his being, then +glanced up at the night sky. Sportsman, traveller, he had often looked +up at the stars before to see how time went. It was going very slowly. +He took out a cigarette, snapped-to the case, bent down to the embers. +Then he sat up and blew out a thin cloud of smoke. The man by his side +looked with his bowed head and clasped knee like a masculine rendering +of mournful meditation. Such attitudes are met with sometimes on the +sculptures of ancient tombs. D'Alcacer began to speak: + +“She is a representative woman and yet one of those of whom there are +but very few at any time in the world. Not that they are very rare but +that there is but little room on top. They are the iridescent gleams on +a hard and dark surface. For the world is hard, Captain Lingard, it is +hard, both in what it will remember and in what it will forget. It +is for such women that people toil on the ground and underground and +artists of all sorts invoke their inspiration.” + +Lingard seemed not to have heard a word. His chin rested on his breast. +D'Alcacer appraised the remaining length of his cigarette and went on in +an equable tone through which pierced a certain sadness: + +“No, there are not many of them. And yet they are all. They decorate our +life for us. They are the gracious figures on the drab wall which lies +on this side of our common grave. They lead a sort of ritual dance, that +most of us have agreed to take seriously. It is a very binding agreement +with which sincerity and good faith and honour have nothing to do. +Very binding. Woe to him or her who breaks it. Directly they leave the +pageant they get lost.” + +Lingard turned his head sharply and discovered d'Alcacer looking at him +with profound attention. + +“They get lost in a maze,” continued d'Alcacer, quietly. “They wander in +it lamenting over themselves. I would shudder at that fate for anything +I loved. Do you know, Captain Lingard, how people lost in a maze end?” + he went on holding Lingard by a steadfast stare. “No? . . . I will +tell you then. They end by hating their very selves, and they die in +disillusion and despair.” + +As if afraid of the force of his words d'Alcacer laid a soothing hand +lightly on Lingard's shoulder. But Lingard continued to look into the +embers at his feet and remained insensible to the friendly touch. Yet +d'Alcacer could not imagine that he had not been heard. He folded his +arms on his breast. + +“I don't know why I have been telling you all this,” he said, +apologetically. “I hope I have not been intruding on your thoughts.” + +“I can think of nothing,” Lingard declared, unexpectedly. “I only know +that your voice was friendly; and for the rest--” + +“One must get through a night like this somehow,” said d'Alcacer. +“The very stars seem to lag on their way. It's a common belief that a +drowning man is irresistibly compelled to review his past experience. +Just now I feel quite out of my depth, and whatever I have said has come +from my experience. I am sure you will forgive me. All that it amounts +to is this: that it is natural for us to cry for the moon but it would +be very fatal to have our cries heard. For what could any one of us do +with the moon if it were given to him? I am speaking now of us--common +mortals.” + +It was not immediately after d'Alcacer had ceased speaking but only +after a moment that Lingard unclasped his fingers, got up, and walked +away. D'Alcacer followed with a glance of quiet interest the big, +shadowy form till it vanished in the direction of an enormous forest +tree left in the middle of the stockade. The deepest shade of the night +was spread over the ground of Belarab's fortified courtyard. The very +embers of the fires had turned black, showing only here and there a mere +spark; and the forms of the prone sleepers could hardly be distinguished +from the hard ground on which they rested, with their arms lying +beside them on the mats. Presently Mrs. Travers appeared quite close to +d'Alcacer, who rose instantly. + +“Martin is asleep,” said Mrs. Travers in a tone that seemed to have +borrowed something of the mystery and quietness of the night. + +“All the world's asleep,” observed d'Alcacer, so low that Mrs. Travers +barely caught the words, “Except you and me, and one other who has left +me to wander about in the night.” + +“Was he with you? Where has he gone?” + +“Where it's darkest I should think,” answered d'Alcacer, secretly. “It's +no use going to look for him; but if you keep perfectly still and hold +your breath you may presently hear his footsteps.” + +“What did he tell you?” breathed out Mrs. Travers. + +“I didn't ask him anything. I only know that something has happened +which has robbed him of his power of thinking . . . Hadn't I better go +to the hut? Don Martin ought to have someone with him when he wakes up.” + Mrs. Travers remained perfectly still and even now and then held her +breath with a vague fear of hearing those footsteps wandering in the +dark. D'Alcacer had disappeared. Again Mrs. Travers held her breath. No. +Nothing. Not a sound. Only the night to her eyes seemed to have grown +darker. Was that a footstep? “Where could I hide myself?” she thought. +But she didn't move. + +After leaving d'Alcacer, Lingard threading his way between the fires +found himself under the big tree, the same tree against which Daman had +been leaning on the day of the great talk when the white prisoners had +been surrendered to Lingard's keeping on definite conditions. Lingard +passed through the deep obscurity made by the outspread boughs of the +only witness left there of a past that for endless ages had seen no +mankind on this shore defended by the Shallows, around this lagoon +overshadowed by the jungle. In the calm night the old giant, without +shudders or murmurs in its enormous limbs, saw the restless man drift +through the black shade into the starlight. + +In that distant part of the courtyard there were only a few sentries +who, themselves invisible, saw Lingard's white figure pace to and fro +endlessly. They knew well who that was. It was the great white man. A +very great man. A very rich man. A possessor of fire-arms, who could +dispense valuable gifts and deal deadly blows, the friend of their +Ruler, the enemy of his enemies, known to them for years and always +mysterious. At their posts, flattened against the stakes near convenient +loopholes, they cast backward glances and exchanged faint whispers from +time to time. + +Lingard might have thought himself alone. He had lost touch with the +world. What he had said to d'Alcacer was perfectly true. He had no +thought. He was in the state of a man who, having cast his eyes through +the open gates of Paradise, is rendered insensible by that moment's +vision to all the forms and matters of the earth; and in the extremity +of his emotion ceases even to look upon himself but as the subject of +a sublime experience which exalts or unfits, sanctifies or damns--he +didn't know which. Every shadowy thought, every passing sensation was +like a base intrusion on that supreme memory. He couldn't bear it. + +When he had tried to resume his conversation with Belarab after Mrs. +Travers' arrival he had discovered himself unable to go on. He had just +enough self-control to break off the interview in measured terms. He +pointed out the lateness of the hour, a most astonishing excuse to +people to whom time is nothing and whose life and activities are not +ruled by the clock. Indeed Lingard hardly knew what he was saying or +doing when he went out again leaving everybody dumb with astonishment +at the change in his aspect and in his behaviour. A suspicious silence +reigned for a long time in Belarab's great audience room till the Chief +dismissed everybody by two quiet words and a slight gesture. + +With her chin in her hand in the pose of a sybil trying to read the +future in the glow of dying embers, Mrs. Travers, without holding +her breath, heard quite close to her the footsteps which she had been +listening for with mingled alarm, remorse, and hope. + +She didn't change her attitude. The deep red glow lighted her up dimly, +her face, the white hand hanging by her side, her feet in their sandals. +The disturbing footsteps stopped close to her. + +“Where have you been all this time?” she asked, without looking round. + +“I don't know,” answered Lingard. He was speaking the exact truth. +He didn't know. Ever since he had released that woman from his arms +everything but the vaguest notions had departed from him. Events, +necessities, things--he had lost his grip on them all. And he didn't +care. They were futile and impotent; he had no patience with them. The +offended and astonished Belarab, d'Alcacer with his kindly touch and +friendly voice, the sleeping men, the men awake, the Settlement full of +unrestful life and the restless Shallows of the coast, were removed from +him into an immensity of pitying contempt. Perhaps they existed. Perhaps +all this waited for him. Well, let all this wait; let everything wait, +till to-morrow or to the end of time, which could now come at any moment +for all he cared--but certainly till to-morrow. + +“I only know,” he went on with an emphasis that made Mrs. Travers raise +her head, “that wherever I go I shall carry you with me--against my +breast.” + +Mrs. Travers' fine ear caught the mingled tones of suppressed exultation +and dawning fear, the ardour and the faltering of those words. She was +feeling still the physical truth at the root of them so strongly that +she couldn't help saying in a dreamy whisper: + +“Did you mean to crush the life out of me?” + +He answered in the same tone: + +“I could not have done it. You are too strong. Was I rough? I didn't +mean to be. I have been often told I didn't know my own strength. You +did not seem able to get through that opening and so I caught hold +of you. You came away in my hands quite easily. Suddenly I thought to +myself, 'now I will make sure.'” + +He paused as if his breath had failed him. Mrs. Travers dared not make +the slightest movement. Still in the pose of one in quest of hidden +truth she murmured, “Make sure?” + +“Yes. And now I am sure. You are here--here! Before I couldn't tell.” + +“Oh, you couldn't tell before,” she said. + +“No.” + +“So it was reality that you were seeking.” + +He repeated as if speaking to himself: “And now I am sure.” + +Her sandalled foot, all rosy in the glow, felt the warmth of the embers. +The tepid night had enveloped her body; and still under the impression +of his strength she gave herself up to a momentary feeling of quietude +that came about her heart as soft as the night air penetrated by the +feeble clearness of the stars. “This is a limpid soul,” she thought. + +“You know I always believed in you,” he began again. “You know I did. +Well. I never believed in you so much as I do now, as you sit there, +just as you are, and with hardly enough light to make you out by.” + +It occurred to her that she had never heard a voice she liked so +well--except one. But that had been a great actor's voice; whereas this +man was nothing in the world but his very own self. He persuaded, he +moved, he disturbed, he soothed by his inherent truth. He had wanted to +make sure and he had made sure apparently; and too weary to resist +the waywardness of her thoughts Mrs. Travers reflected with a sort of +amusement that apparently he had not been disappointed. She thought, “He +believes in me. What amazing words. Of all the people that might have +believed in me I had to find this one here. He believes in me more than +in himself.” A gust of sudden remorse tore her out from her quietness, +made her cry out to him: + +“Captain Lingard, we forget how we have met, we forget what is going on. +We mustn't. I won't say that you placed your belief wrongly but I have +to confess something to you. I must tell you how I came here to-night. +Jorgenson . . .” + +He interrupted her forcibly but without raising his voice. + +“Jorgenson. Who's Jorgenson? You came to me because you couldn't help +yourself.” + +This took her breath away. “But I must tell you. There is something in +my coming which is not clear to me.” + +“You can tell me nothing that I don't know already,” he said in +a pleading tone. “Say nothing. Sit still. Time enough to-morrow. +To-morrow! The night is drawing to an end and I care for nothing in the +world but you. Let me be. Give me the rest that is in you.” + +She had never heard such accents on his lips and she felt for him a +great and tender pity. Why not humour this mood in which he wanted to +preserve the moments that would never come to him again on this earth? +She hesitated in silence. She saw him stir in the darkness as if he +could not make up his mind to sit down on the bench. But suddenly he +scattered the embers with his foot and sank on the ground against her +feet, and she was not startled in the least to feel the weight of his +head on her knee. Mrs. Travers was not startled but she felt profoundly +moved. Why should she torment him with all those questions of freedom +and captivity, of violence and intrigue, of life and death? He was not +in a state to be told anything and it seemed to her that she did not +want to speak, that in the greatness of her compassion she simply could +not speak. All she could do for him was to rest her hand lightly on his +head and respond silently to the slight movement she felt, sigh or sob, +but a movement which suddenly immobilized her in an anxious emotion. + +About the same time on the other side of the lagoon Jorgenson, raising +his eyes, noted the stars and said to himself that the night would not +last long now. He wished for daylight. He hoped that Lingard had already +done something. The blaze in Tengga's compound had been re-lighted. +Tom's power was unbounded, practically unbounded. And he was +invulnerable. + +Jorgenson let his old eyes wander amongst the gleams and shadows of the +great sheet of water between him and that hostile shore and fancied he +could detect a floating shadow having the characteristic shape of a man +in a small canoe. + +“O! Ya! Man!” he hailed. “What do you want?” Other eyes, too, had +detected that shadow. Low murmurs arose on the deck of the Emma. “If you +don't speak at once I shall fire,” shouted Jorgenson, fiercely. + +“No, white man,” returned the floating shape in a solemn drawl. “I am +the bearer of friendly words. A chief's words. I come from Tengga.” + +“There was a bullet that came on board not a long time ago--also from +Tengga,” said Jorgenson. + +“That was an accident,” protested the voice from the lagoon. “What else +could it be? Is there war between you and Tengga? No, no, O white man! +All Tengga desires is a long talk. He has sent me to ask you to come +ashore.” + +At these words Jorgenson's heart sank a little. This invitation meant +that Lingard had made no move. Was Tom asleep or altogether mad? + +“The talk would be of peace,” declared impressively the shadow which had +drifted much closer to the hulk now. + +“It isn't for me to talk with great chiefs,” Jorgenson returned, +cautiously. + +“But Tengga is a friend,” argued the nocturnal messenger. “And by that +fire there are other friends--your friends, the Rajah Hassim and the +lady Immada, who send you their greetings and who expect their eyes to +rest on you before sunrise.” + +“That's a lie,” remarked Jorgenson, perfunctorily, and fell into +thought, while the shadowy bearer of words preserved a scandalized +silence, though, of course, he had not expected to be believed for a +moment. But one could never tell what a white man would believe. He +had wanted to produce the impression that Hassim and Immada were the +honoured guests of Tengga. It occurred to him suddenly that perhaps +Jorgenson didn't know anything of the capture. And he persisted. + +“My words are all true, Tuan. The Rajah of Wajo and his sister are with +my master. I left them sitting by the fire on Tengga's right hand. Will +you come ashore to be welcomed amongst friends?” + +Jorgenson had been reflecting profoundly. His object was to gain as much +time as possible for Lingard's interference which indeed could not fail +to be effective. But he had not the slightest wish to entrust himself to +Tengga's friendliness. Not that he minded the risk; but he did not see +the use of taking it. + +“No!” he said, “I can't go ashore. We white men have ways of our own +and I am chief of this hulk. And my chief is the Rajah Laut, a white man +like myself. All the words that matter are in him and if Tengga is such +a great chief let him ask the Rajah Laut for a talk. Yes, that's the +proper thing for Tengga to do if he is such a great chief as he says.” + +“The Rajah Laut has made his choice. He dwells with Belarab, and with +the white people who are huddled together like trapped deer in Belarab's +stockade. Why shouldn't you meantime go over where everything is lighted +up and open and talk in friendship with Tengga's friends, whose hearts +have been made sick by many doubts; Rajah Hassim and the lady Immada and +Daman, the chief of the men of the sea, who do not know now whom they +can trust unless it be you, Tuan, the keeper of much wealth?” + +The diplomatist in the small dugout paused for a moment to give special +weight to the final argument: + +“Which you have no means to defend. We know how many armed men there are +with you.” + +“They are great fighters,” Jorgenson observed, unconcernedly, spreading +his elbows on the rail and looking over at the floating black patch of +characteristic shape whence proceeded the voice of the wily envoy of +Tengga. “Each man of them is worth ten of such as you can find in the +Settlement.” + +“Yes, by Allah. Even worth twenty of these common people. Indeed, you +have enough with you to make a great fight but not enough for victory.” + +“God alone gives victory,” said suddenly the voice of Jaffir, who, very +still at Jorgenson's elbow, had been listening to the conversation. + +“Very true,” was the answer in an extremely conventional tone. “Will you +come ashore, O white man; and be the leader of chiefs?” + +“I have been that before,” said Jorgenson, with great dignity, “and now +all I want is peace. But I won't come ashore amongst people whose minds +are so much troubled, till Rajah Hassim and his sister return on board +this ship and tell me the tale of their new friendship with Tengga.” + +His heart was sinking with every minute, the very air was growing +heavier with the sense of oncoming disaster, on that night that was +neither war nor peace and whose only voice was the voice of Tengga's +envoy, insinuating in tone though menacing in words. + +“No, that cannot be,” said that voice. “But, Tuan, verily Tengga himself +is ready to come on board here to talk with you. He is very ready to +come and indeed, Tuan, he means to come on board here before very long.” + +“Yes, with fifty war-canoes filled with the ferocious rabble of the +Shore of Refuge,” Jaffir was heard commenting, sarcastically, over the +rail; and a sinister muttered “It may be so,” ascended alongside from +the black water. + +Jorgenson kept silent as if waiting for a supreme inspiration and +suddenly he spoke in his other-world voice: “Tell Tengga from me that as +long as he brings with him Rajah Hassim and the Rajah's sister, he and +his chief men will be welcome on deck here, no matter how many boats +come along with them. For that I do not care. You may go now.” + +A profound silence succeeded. It was clear that the envoy was gone, +keeping in the shadow of the shore. Jorgenson turned to Jaffir. + +“Death amongst friends is but a festival,” he quoted, mumbling in his +moustache. + +“It is, by Allah,” assented Jaffir with sombre fervour. + + + +VI + +Thirty-six hours later Carter, alone with Lingard in the cabin of the +brig, could almost feel during a pause in his talk the oppressive, the +breathless peace of the Shallows awaiting another sunset. + +“I never expected to see any of you alive,” Carter began in his easy +tone, but with much less carelessness in his bearing as though his days +of responsibility amongst the Shoals of the Shore of Refuge had matured +his view of the external world and of his own place therein. + +“Of course not,” muttered Lingard. + +The listlessness of that man whom he had always seen acting under +the stress of a secret passion seemed perfectly appalling to Carter's +youthful and deliberate energy. Ever since he had found himself +again face to face with Lingard he had tried to conceal the shocking +impression with a delicacy which owed nothing to training but was as +intuitive as a child's. + +While justifying to Lingard his manner of dealing with the situation +on the Shore of Refuge, he could not for the life of him help asking +himself what was this new mystery. He was also young enough to long for +a word of commendation. + +“Come, Captain,” he argued; “how would you have liked to come out and +find nothing but two half-burnt wrecks stuck on the sands--perhaps?” + +He waited for a moment, then in sheer compassion turned away his eyes +from that fixed gaze, from that harassed face with sunk cheeks, from +that figure of indomitable strength robbed of its fire. He said to +himself: “He doesn't hear me,” and raised his voice without altering its +self-contained tone: + +“I was below yesterday morning when we felt the shock, but the noise +came to us only as a deep rumble. I made one jump for the companion but +that precious Shaw was before me yelling, 'Earthquake! Earthquake!' and +I am hanged if he didn't miss his footing and land down on his head at +the bottom of the stairs. I had to stop to pick him up but I got on deck +in time to see a mighty black cloud that seemed almost solid pop up from +behind the forest like a balloon. It stayed there for quite a long time. +Some of our Calashes on deck swore to me that they had seen a red flash +above the tree-tops. But that's hard to believe. I guessed at once that +something had blown up on shore. My first thought was that I would never +see you any more and I made up my mind at once to find out all the truth +you have been keeping away from me. No, sir! Don't you make a mistake! I +wasn't going to give you up, dead or alive.” + +He looked hard at Lingard while saying these words and saw the first +sign of animation pass over that ravaged face. He saw even its lips move +slightly; but there was no sound, and Carter looked away again. + +“Perhaps you would have done better by telling me everything; but you +left me behind on my own to be your man here. I put my hand to the +work I could see before me. I am a sailor. There were two ships to look +after. And here they are both for you, fit to go or to stay, to fight or +to run, as you choose.” He watched with bated breath the effort Lingard +had to make to utter the two words of the desired commendation: + +“Well done!” + +“And I am your man still,” Carter added, impulsively, and hastened to +look away from Lingard, who had tried to smile at him and had failed. +Carter didn't know what to do next, remain in the cabin or leave that +unsupported strong man to himself. With a shyness completely foreign to +his character and which he could not understand himself, he suggested +in an engaging murmur and with an embarrassed assumption of his right to +give advice: + +“Why not lie down for a bit, sir? I can attend to anything that may turn +up. You seem done up, sir.” + +He was facing Lingard, who stood on the other side of the table in a +leaning forward attitude propped up on rigid arms and stared fixedly at +him--perhaps? Carter felt on the verge of despair. This couldn't last. +He was relieved to see Lingard shake his head slightly. + +“No, Mr. Carter. I think I will go on deck,” said the Captain of the +famous brig Lightning, while his eyes roamed all over the cabin. Carter +stood aside at once, but it was some little time before Lingard made a +move. + +The sun had sunk already, leaving that evening no trace of its glory on +a sky clear as crystal and on the waters without a ripple. All colour +seemed to have gone out of the world. The oncoming shadow rose as subtle +as a perfume from the black coast lying athwart the eastern semicircle; +and such was the silence within the horizon that one might have fancied +oneself come to the end of time. Black and toylike in the clear depths +and the final stillness of the evening the brig and the schooner lay +anchored in the middle of the main channel with their heads swung the +same way. Lingard, with his chin on his breast and his arms folded, +moved slowly here and there about the poop. Close and mute like his +shadow, Carter, at his elbow, followed his movements. He felt an anxious +solicitude. . . . + +It was a sentiment perfectly new to him. He had never before felt this +sort of solicitude about himself or any other man. His personality was +being developed by new experience, and as he was very simple he received +the initiation with shyness and self-mistrust. He had noticed with +innocent alarm that Lingard had not looked either at the sky or over +the sea, neither at his own ship nor the schooner astern; not along the +decks, not aloft, not anywhere. He had looked at nothing! And somehow +Carter felt himself more lonely and without support than when he had +been left alone by that man in charge of two ships entangled amongst the +Shallows and environed by some sinister mystery. Since that man had come +back, instead of welcome relief Carter felt his responsibility rest on +his young shoulders with tenfold weight. His profound conviction was +that Lingard should be roused. + +“Captain Lingard,” he burst out in desperation; “you can't say I have +worried you very much since this morning when I received you at the +side, but I must be told something. What is it going to be with us? +Fight or run?” + +Lingard stopped short and now there was no doubt in Carter's mind that +the Captain was looking at him. There was no room for any doubt before +that stern and enquiring gaze. “Aha!” thought Carter. “This has +startled him”; and feeling that his shyness had departed he pursued his +advantage. “For the fact of the matter is, sir, that, whatever happens, +unless I am to be your man you will have no officer. I had better tell +you at once that I have bundled that respectable, crazy, fat Shaw out of +the ship. He was upsetting all hands. Yesterday I told him to go and get +his dunnage together because I was going to send him aboard the yacht. +He couldn't have made more uproar about it if I had proposed to chuck +him overboard. I warned him that if he didn't go quietly I would have +him tied up like a sheep ready for slaughter. However, he went down the +ladder on his own feet, shaking his fist at me and promising to have me +hanged for a pirate some day. He can do no harm on board the yacht. And +now, sir, it's for you to give orders and not for me--thank God!” + +Lingard turned away, abruptly. Carter didn't budge. After a moment he +heard himself called from the other side of the deck and obeyed with +alacrity. + +“What's that story of a man you picked up on the coast last evening?” + asked Lingard in his gentlest tone. “Didn't you tell me something about +it when I came on board?” + +“I tried to,” said Carter, frankly. “But I soon gave it up. You didn't +seem to pay any attention to what I was saying. I thought you wanted to +be left alone for a bit. What can I know of your ways, yet, sir? Are you +aware, Captain Lingard, that since this morning I have been down five +times at the cabin door to look at you? There you sat. . . .” + +He paused and Lingard said: “You have been five times down in the +cabin?” + +“Yes. And the sixth time I made up my mind to make you take some notice +of me. I can't be left without orders. There are two ships to look +after, a lot of things to be done. . . .” + +“There is nothing to be done,” Lingard interrupted with a mere murmur +but in a tone which made Carter keep silent for a while. + +“Even to know that much would have been something to go by,” he ventured +at last. “I couldn't let you sit there with the sun getting pretty low +and a long night before us.” + +“I feel stunned yet,” said Lingard, looking Carter straight in the face, +as if to watch the effect of that confession. + +“Were you very near that explosion?” asked the young man with +sympathetic curiosity and seeking for some sign on Lingard's person. +But there was nothing. Not a single hair of the Captain's head seemed to +have been singed. + +“Near,” muttered Lingard. “It might have been my head.” He pressed it +with both hands, then let them fall. “What about that man?” he asked, +brusquely. “Where did he come from? . . . I suppose he is dead now,” he +added in an envious tone. + +“No, sir. He must have as many lives as a cat,” answered Carter. “I will +tell you how it was. As I said before I wasn't going to give you up, +dead or alive, so yesterday when the sun went down a little in the +afternoon I had two of our boats manned and pulled in shore, taking +soundings to find a passage if there was one. I meant to go back and +look for you with the brig or without the brig--but that doesn't +matter now. There were three or four floating logs in sight. One of the +Calashes in my boat made out something red on one of them. I thought it +was worth while to go and see what it was. It was that man's sarong. It +had got entangled among the branches and prevented him rolling off into +the water. I was never so glad, I assure you, as when we found out +that he was still breathing. If we could only nurse him back to life, I +thought, he could perhaps tell me a lot of things. The log on which he +hung had come out of the mouth of the creek and he couldn't have been +more than half a day on it by my calculation. I had him taken down the +main hatchway and put into a hammock in the 'tween-decks. He only just +breathed then, but some time during the night he came to himself and +got out of the hammock to lie down on a mat. I suppose he was more +comfortable that way. He recovered his speech only this morning and I +went down at once and told you of it, but you took no notice. I told you +also who he was but I don't know whether you heard me or not.” + +“I don't remember,” said Lingard under his breath. + +“They are wonderful, those Malays. This morning he was only half alive, +if that much, and now I understand he has been talking to Wasub for an +hour. Will you go down to see him, sir, or shall I send a couple of men +to carry him on deck?” + +Lingard looked bewildered for a moment. + +“Who on earth is he?” he asked. + +“Why, it's that fellow whom you sent out, that night I met you, to catch +our first gig. What do they call him? Jaffir, I think. Hasn't he been +with you ashore, sir? Didn't he find you with the letter I gave him for +you? A most determined looking chap. I knew him again the moment we got +him off the log.” + +Lingard seized hold of the royal backstay within reach of his hand. +Jaffir! Jaffir! Faithful above all others; the messenger of supreme +moments; the reckless and devoted servant! Lingard felt a crushing sense +of despair. “No, I can't face this,” he whispered to himself, looking +at the coast black as ink now before his eyes in the world's shadow that +was slowly encompassing the grey clearness of the Shallow Waters. “Send +Wasub to me. I am going down into the cabin.” + +He crossed over to the companion, then checking himself suddenly: “Was +there a boat from the yacht during the day?” he asked as if struck by +a sudden thought.--“No, sir,” answered Carter. “We had no communication +with the yacht to-day.”--“Send Wasub to me,” repeated Lingard in a stern +voice as he went down the stairs. + +The old serang coming in noiselessly saw his Captain as he had seen him +many times before, sitting under the gilt thunderbolts, apparently as +strong in his body, in his wealth, and in his knowledge of secret words +that have a power over men and elements, as ever. The old Malay squatted +down within a couple of feet from Lingard, leaned his back against +the satinwood panel of the bulkhead, then raising his old eyes with a +watchful and benevolent expression to the white man's face, clasped his +hands between his knees. + +“Wasub, you have learned now everything. Is there no one left alive but +Jaffir? Are they all dead?” + +“May you live!” answered Wasub; and Lingard whispered an appalled “All +dead!” to which Wasub nodded slightly twice. His cracked voice had a +lamenting intonation. “It is all true! It is all true! You are left +alone, Tuan; you are left alone!” + +“It was their destiny,” said Lingard at last, with forced calmness. “But +has Jaffir told you of the manner of this calamity? How is it that he +alone came out alive from it to be found by you?” + +“He was told by his lord to depart and he obeyed,” began Wasub, fixing +his eyes on the deck and speaking just loud enough to be heard by +Lingard, who, bending forward in his seat, shrank inwardly from every +word and yet would not have missed a single one of them for anything. + +For the catastrophe had fallen on his head like a bolt from the blue in +the early morning hours of the day before. At the first break of dawn he +had been sent for to resume, his talk with Belarab. He had felt +suddenly Mrs. Travers remove her hand from his head. Her voice speaking +intimately into his ear: “Get up. There are some people coming,” had +recalled him to himself. He had got up from the ground. The light was +dim, the air full of mist; and it was only gradually that he began to +make out forms above his head and about his feet: trees, houses, men +sleeping on the ground. He didn't recognize them. It was but a cruel +change of dream. Who could tell what was real in this world? He looked +about him, dazedly; he was still drunk with the deep draught of oblivion +he had conquered for himself. Yes--but it was she who had let him snatch +the cup. He looked down at the woman on the bench. She moved not. She +had remained like that, still for hours, giving him a waking dream +of rest without end, in an infinity of happiness without sound and +movement, without thought, without joy; but with an infinite ease of +content, like a world-embracing reverie breathing the air of sadness and +scented with love. For hours she had not moved. + +“You are the most generous of women,” he said. He bent over her. Her +eyes were wide open. Her lips felt cold. It did not shock him. After he +stood up he remained near her. Heat is a consuming thing, but she with +her cold lips seemed to him indestructible--and, perhaps, immortal! + +Again he stooped, but this time it was only to kiss the fringe of her +head scarf. Then he turned away to meet the three men, who, coming round +the corner of the hut containing the prisoners, were approaching him +with measured steps. They desired his presence in the Council room. +Belarab was awake. + +They also expressed their satisfaction at finding the white man awake, +because Belarab wanted to impart to him information of the greatest +importance. It seemed to Lingard that he had been awake ever since he +could remember. It was as to being alive that he felt not so sure. +He had no doubt of his existence; but was this life--this profound +indifference, this strange contempt for what his eyes could see, this +distaste for words, this unbelief in the importance of things and men? +He tried to regain possession of himself, his old self which had things +to do, words to speak as well as to hear. But it was too difficult. He +was seduced away by the tense feeling of existence far superior to +the mere consciousness of life, and which in its immensity of +contradictions, delight, dread, exultation and despair could not be +faced and yet was not to be evaded. There was no peace in it. But who +wanted peace? Surrender was better, the dreadful ease of slack limbs in +the sweep of an enormous tide and in a divine emptiness of mind. If this +was existence then he knew that he existed. And he knew that the +woman existed, too, in the sweep of the tide, without speech, without +movement, without heat! Indestructible--and, perhaps, immortal! + + + +VII + +With the sublime indifference of a man who has had a glimpse through the +open doors of Paradise and is no longer careful of mere life, Lingard +had followed Belarab's anxious messengers. The stockade was waking up +in a subdued resonance of voices. Men were getting up from the ground, +fires were being rekindled. Draped figures flitted in the mist amongst +the buildings; and through the mat wall of a bamboo house Lingard heard +the feeble wailing of a child. A day of mere life was beginning; but in +the Chief's great Council room several wax candles and a couple of cheap +European lamps kept the dawn at bay, while the morning mist which could +not be kept out made a faint reddish halo round every flame. + +Belarab was not only awake, but he even looked like a man who had not +slept for a long time. The creator of the Shore of Refuge, the weary +Ruler of the Settlement, with his scorn of the unrest and folly of men, +was angry with his white friend who was always bringing his desires and +his troubles to his very door. Belarab did not want any one to die but +neither did he want any one in particular to live. What he was concerned +about was to preserve the mystery and the power of his melancholy +hesitations. These delicate things were menaced by Lingard's brusque +movements, by that passionate white man who believed in more than +one God and always seemed to doubt the power of Destiny. Belarab was +profoundly annoyed. He was also genuinely concerned, for he liked +Lingard. He liked him not only for his strength, which protected his +clear-minded scepticism from those dangers that beset all rulers, but he +liked him also for himself. That man of infinite hesitations, born from +a sort of mystic contempt for Allah's creation, yet believed absolutely +both in Lingard's power and in his boldness. Absolutely. And yet, in the +marvellous consistency of his temperament, now that the moment had come, +he dreaded to put both power and fortitude to the test. + +Lingard could not know that some little time before the first break of +dawn one of Belarab's spies in the Settlement had found his way inside +the stockade at a spot remote from the lagoon, and that a very few +moments after Lingard had left the Chief in consequence of Jorgenson's +rockets, Belarab was listening to an amazing tale of Hassim and Immada's +capture and of Tengga's determination, very much strengthened by +that fact, to obtain possession of the Emma, either by force or by +negotiation, or by some crafty subterfuge in which the Rajah and +his sister could be made to play their part. In his mistrust of the +universe, which seemed almost to extend to the will of God himself, +Belarab was very much alarmed, for the material power of Daman's +piratical crowd was at Tengga's command; and who could tell whether this +Wajo Rajah would remain loyal in the circumstances? It was also very +characteristic of him whom the original settlers of the Shore of Refuge +called the Father of Safety, that he did not say anything of this to +Lingard, for he was afraid of rousing Lingard's fierce energy which +would even carry away himself and all his people and put the peace of so +many years to the sudden hazard of a battle. + +Therefore Belarab set himself to persuade Lingard on general +considerations to deliver the white men, who really belonged to Daman, +to that supreme Chief of the Illanuns and by this simple proceeding +detach him completely from Tengga. Why should he, Belarab, go to war +against half the Settlement on their account? It was not necessary, it +was not reasonable. It would be even in a manner a sin to begin a strife +in a community of True Believers. Whereas with an offer like that in his +hand he could send an embassy to Tengga who would see there at once the +downfall of his purposes and the end of his hopes. At once! That moment! +. . . Afterward the question of a ransom could be arranged with Daman in +which he, Belarab, would mediate in the fullness of his recovered power, +without a rival and in the sincerity of his heart. And then, if need be, +he could put forth all his power against the chief of the sea-vagabonds +who would, as a matter of fact, be negotiating under the shadow of the +sword. + +Belarab talked, low-voiced and dignified, with now and then a subtle +intonation, a persuasive inflexion or a half-melancholy smile in the +course of the argument. What encouraged him most was the changed aspect +of his white friend. The fierce power of his personality seemed to have +turned into a dream. Lingard listened, growing gradually inscrutable in +his continued silence, but remaining gentle in a sort of rapt patience +as if lapped in the wings of the Angel of Peace himself. Emboldened by +that transformation, Belarab's counsellors seated on the mats murmured +loudly their assent to the views of the Chief. Through the thickening +white mist of tropical lands, the light of the tropical day filtered +into the hall. One of the wise men got up from the floor and with +prudent fingers began extinguishing the waxlights one by one. He +hesitated to touch the lamps, the flames of which looked yellow and +cold. A puff of the morning breeze entered the great room, faint and +chill. Lingard, facing Belarab in a wooden armchair, with slack +limbs and in the divine emptiness of a mind enchanted by a glimpse of +Paradise, shuddered profoundly. + +A strong voice shouted in the doorway without any ceremony and with a +sort of jeering accent: + +“Tengga's boats are out in the mist.” + +Lingard half rose from his seat, Belarab himself could not repress a +start. Lingard's attitude was a listening one, but after a moment +of hesitation he ran out of the hall. The inside of the stockade was +beginning to buzz like a disturbed hive. + +Outside Belarab's house Lingard slowed his pace. The mist still hung. A +great sustained murmur pervaded it and the blurred forms of men were all +moving outward from the centre toward the palisades. Somewhere amongst +the buildings a gong clanged. D'Alcacer's raised voice was heard: + +“What is happening?” + +Lingard was passing then close to the prisoners' house. There was a +group of armed men below the verandah and above their heads he saw Mrs. +Travers by the side of d'Alcacer. The fire by which Lingard had spent +the night was extinguished, its embers scattered, and the bench itself +lay overturned. Mrs. Travers must have run up on the verandah at the +first alarm. She and d'Alcacer up there seemed to dominate the tumult +which was now subsiding. Lingard noticed the scarf across Mrs. Travers' +face. D'Alcacer was bareheaded. He shouted again: + +“What's the matter?” + +“I am going to see,” shouted Lingard back. + +He resisted the impulse to join those two, dominate the tumult, let it +roll away from under his feet--the mere life of men, vain like a dream +and interfering with the tremendous sense of his own existence. +He resisted it, he could hardly have told why. Even the sense of +self-preservation had abandoned him. There was a throng of people +pressing close about him yet careful not to get in his way. Surprise, +concern, doubt were depicted on all those faces; but there were some who +observed that the great white man making his way to the lagoon side of +the stockade wore a fixed smile. He asked at large: + +“Can one see any distance over the water?” + +One of Belarab's headmen who was nearest to him answered: + +“The mist has thickened. If you see anything, Tuan, it will be but a +shadow of things.” + +The four sides of the stockade had been manned by that time. Lingard, +ascending the banquette, looked out and saw the lagoon shrouded in +white, without as much as a shadow on it, and so still that not even the +sound of water lapping the shore reached his ears. He found himself in +profound accord with this blind and soundless peace. + +“Has anything at all been seen?” he asked incredulously. + +Four men were produced at once who had seen a dark mass of boats moving +in the light of the dawn. Others were sent for. He hardly listened to +them. His thought escaped him and he stood motionless, looking out into +the unstirring mist pervaded by the perfect silence. Presently Belarab +joined him, escorted by three grave, swarthy men, himself dark-faced, +stroking his short grey beard with impenetrable composure. He said to +Lingard, “Your white man doesn't fight,” to which Lingard answered, +“There is nothing to fight against. What your people have seen, Belarab, +were indeed but shadows on the water.” Belarab murmured, “You ought to +have allowed me to make friends with Daman last night.” + +A faint uneasiness was stealing into Lingard's breast. + +A moment later d'Alcacer came up, inconspicuously watched over by two +men with lances, and to his anxious inquiry Lingard said: “I don't think +there is anything going on. Listen how still everything is. The only way +of bringing the matter to a test would be to persuade Belarab to let +his men march out and make an attack on Tengga's stronghold this moment. +Then we would learn something. But I couldn't persuade Belarab to march +out into this fog. Indeed, an expedition like this might end badly. I +myself don't believe that all Tengga's people are on the lagoon. . . . +Where is Mrs. Travers?” + +The question made d'Alcacer start by its abruptness which revealed the +woman's possession of that man's mind. “She is with Don Martin, who is +better but feels very weak. If we are to be given up, he will have to +be carried out to his fate. I can depict to myself the scene. Don Martin +carried shoulder high surrounded by those barbarians with spears, and +Mrs. Travers with myself walking on each side of the stretcher. Mrs. +Travers has declared to me her intention to go out with us.” + +“Oh, she has declared her intention,” murmured Lingard, absent-mindedly. + +D'Alcacer felt himself completely abandoned by that man. And within +two paces of him he noticed the group of Belarab and his three swarthy +attendants in their white robes, preserving an air of serene detachment. +For the first time since the stranding on the coast d'Alcacer's heart +sank within him. “But perhaps,” he went on, “this Moor may not in the +end insist on giving us up to a cruel death, Captain Lingard.” + +“He wanted to give you up in the middle of the night, a few hours ago,” + said Lingard, without even looking at d'Alcacer who raised his hands +a little and let them fall. Lingard sat down on the breech of a heavy +piece mounted on a naval carriage so as to command the lagoon. He folded +his arms on his breast. D'Alcacer asked, gently: + +“We have been reprieved then?” + +“No,” said Lingard. “It's I who was reprieved.” + +A long silence followed. Along the whole line of the manned stockade the +whisperings had ceased. The vibrations of the gong had died out, too. +Only the watchers perched in the highest boughs of the big tree made a +slight rustle amongst the leaves. + +“What are you thinking of, Captain Lingard?” d'Alcacer asked in a low +voice. Lingard did not change his position. + +“I am trying to keep it off,” he said in the same tone. + +“What? Trying to keep thought off?” + +“Yes.” + +“Is this the time for such experiments?” asked d'Alcacer. + +“Why not? It's my reprieve. Don't grudge it to me, Mr. d'Alcacer.” + +“Upon my word I don't. But isn't it dangerous?” + +“You will have to take your chance.” + +D'Alcacer had a moment of internal struggle. He asked himself whether he +should tell Lingard that Mrs. Travers had come to the stockade with some +sort of message from Jorgenson. He had it on the tip of his tongue +to advise Lingard to go and see Mrs. Travers and ask her point blank +whether she had anything to tell him; but before he could make up +his mind the voices of invisible men high up in the tree were heard +reporting the thinning of the fog. This caused a stir to run along the +four sides of the stockade. + +Lingard felt the draught of air in his face, the motionless mist began +to drive over the palisades and, suddenly, the lagoon came into view +with a great blinding glitter of its wrinkled surface and the faint +sound of its wash rising all along the shore. A multitude of hands went +up to shade the eager eyes, and exclamations of wonder burst out from +many men at the sight of a crowd of canoes of various sizes and kinds +lying close together with the effect as of an enormous raft, a little +way off the side of the Emma. The excited voices rose higher and higher. +There was no doubt about Tengga's being on the lagoon. But what was +Jorgenson about? The Emma lay as if abandoned by her keeper and her +crew, while the mob of mixed boats seemed to be meditating an attack. + +For all his determination to keep thought off to the very last possible +moment, Lingard could not defend himself from a sense of wonder and +fear. What was Jorgenson about? For a moment Lingard expected the side +of the Emma to wreath itself in puffs of smoke, but an age seemed to +elapse without the sound of a shot reaching his ears. + +The boats were afraid to close. They were hanging off, irresolute; but +why did Jorgenson not put an end to their hesitation by a volley or +two of musketry if only over their heads? Through the anguish of his +perplexity Lingard found himself returning to life, to mere life with +its sense of pain and mortality, like a man awakened from a dream by a +stab in the breast. What did this silence of the Emma mean? Could she +have been already carried in the fog? But that was unthinkable. Some +sounds of resistance must have been heard. No, the boats hung off +because they knew with what desperate defence they would meet; and +perhaps Jorgenson knew very well what he was doing by holding his fire +to the very last moment and letting the craven hearts grow cold with +the fear of a murderous discharge that would have to be faced. What was +certain was that this was the time for Belarab to open the great gate +and let his men go out, display his power, sweep through the further end +of the Settlement, destroy Tengga's defences, do away once for all with +the absurd rivalry of that intriguing amateur boat-builder. Lingard +turned eagerly toward Belarab but saw the Chief busy looking across the +lagoon through a long glass resting on the shoulder of a stooping slave. +He was motionless like a carving. Suddenly he let go the long glass +which some ready hands caught as it fell and said to Lingard: + +“No fight.” + +“How do you know?” muttered Lingard, astounded. + +“There are three empty sampans alongside the ladder,” said Belarab in a +just audible voice. “There is bad talk there.” + +“Talk? I don't understand,” said Lingard, slowly. + +But Belarab had turned toward his three attendants in white robes, +with shaven polls under skull-caps of plaited grass, with prayer beads +hanging from their wrists, and an air of superior calm on their dark +faces: companions of his desperate days, men of blood once and now +imperturbable in their piety and wisdom of trusted counsellors. + +“This white man is being betrayed,” he murmured to them with the +greatest composure. + +D'Alcacer, uncomprehending, watched the scene: the Man of Fate puzzled +and fierce like a disturbed lion, the white-robed Moors, the multitude +of half-naked barbarians, squatting by the guns, standing by the +loopholes in the immobility of an arranged display. He saw Mrs. Travers +on the verandah of the prisoners' house, an anxious figure with a white +scarf over her head. Mr. Travers was no doubt too weak after his fit of +fever to come outside. If it hadn't been for that, all the whites would +have been in sight of each other at the very moment of the catastrophe +which was to give them back to the claims of their life, at the cost +of other lives sent violently out of the world. D'Alcacer heard Lingard +asking loudly for the long glass and saw Belarab make a sign with his +hand, when he felt the earth receive a violent blow from underneath. +While he staggered to it the heavens split over his head with a crash in +the lick of a red tongue of flame; and a sudden dreadful gloom fell all +round the stunned d'Alcacer, who beheld with terror the morning sun, +robbed of its rays, glow dull and brown through the sombre murk which +had taken possession of the universe. The Emma had blown up; and when +the rain of shattered timbers and mangled corpses falling into the +lagoon had ceased, the cloud of smoke hanging motionless under the livid +sun cast its shadow afar on the Shore of Refuge where all strife had +come to an end. + +A great wail of terror ascended from the Settlement and was succeeded +by a profound silence. People could be seen bolting in unreasoning panic +away from the houses and into the fields. On the lagoon the raft of +boats had broken up. Some of them were sinking, others paddling away in +all directions. What was left above water of the Emma had burst into a +clear flame under the shadow of the cloud, the great smoky cloud that +hung solid and unstirring above the tops of the forest, visible for +miles up and down the coast and over the Shallows. + +The first person to recover inside the stockade was Belarab himself. +Mechanically he murmured the exclamation of wonder, “God is great,” and +looked at Lingard. But Lingard was not looking at him. The shock of the +explosion had robbed him of speech and movement. He stared at the Emma +blazing in a distant and insignificant flame under the sinister shadow +of the cloud created by Jorgenson's mistrust and contempt for the +life of men. Belarab turned away. His opinion had changed. He regarded +Lingard no longer as a betrayed man but the effect was the same. He was +no longer a man of any importance. What Belarab really wanted now was +to see all the white people clear out of the lagoon as soon as possible. +Presently he ordered the gate to be thrown open and his armed men poured +out to take possession of the Settlement. Later Tengga's houses were +set on fire and Belarab, mounting a fiery pony, issued forth to make a +triumphal progress surrounded by a great crowd of headmen and guards. + +That night the white people left the stockade in a cortege of torch +bearers. Mr. Travers had to be carried down to the beach, where two of +Belarab's war-boats awaited their distinguished passengers. Mrs. Travers +passed through the gate on d'Alcacer's arm. Her face was half veiled. +She moved through the throng of spectators displayed in the torchlight +looking straight before her. Belarab, standing in front of a group of +headmen, pretended not to see the white people as they went by. With +Lingard he shook hands, murmuring the usual formulas of friendship; and +when he heard the great white man say, “You shall never see me again,” + he felt immensely relieved. Belarab did not want to see that white man +again, but as he responded to the pressure of Lingard's hand he had a +grave smile. + +“God alone knows the future,” he said. + +Lingard walked to the beach by himself, feeling a stranger to all men +and abandoned by the All-Knowing God. By that time the first boat with +Mr. and Mrs. Travers had already got away out of the blood-red light +thrown by the torches upon the water. D'Alcacer and Lingard followed +in the second. Presently the dark shade of the creek, walled in by the +impenetrable forest, closed round them and the splash of the paddles +echoed in the still, damp air. + +“How do you think this awful accident happened?” asked d'Alcacer, who +had been sitting silent by Lingard's side. + +“What is an accident?” said Lingard with a great effort. “Where did you +hear of such a thing? Accident! Don't disturb me, Mr. d'Alcacer. I have +just come back to life and it has closed on me colder and darker than +the grave itself. Let me get used . . . I can't bear the sound of a +human voice yet.” + + + +VIII + +And now, stoical in the cold and darkness of his regained life, Lingard +had to listen to the voice of Wasub telling him Jaffir's story. The +old serang's face expressed a profound dejection and there was infinite +sadness in the flowing murmur of his words. + +“Yes, by Allah! They were all there: that tyrannical Tengga, noisy +like a fool; the Rajah Hassim, a ruler without a country; Daman, the +wandering chief, and the three Pangerans of the sea-robbers. They came +on board boldly, for Tuan Jorgenson had given them permission, and their +talk was that you, Tuan, were a willing captive in Belarab's stockade. +They said they had waited all night for a message of peace from you or +from Belarab. But there was nothing, and with the first sign of day they +put out on the lagoon to make friends with Tuan Jorgenson; for, they +said, you, Tuan, were as if you had not been, possessing no more power +than a dead man, the mere slave of these strange white people, and +Belarab's prisoner. Thus Tengga talked. God had taken from him all +wisdom and all fear. And then he must have thought he was safe while +Rajah Hassim and the lady Immada were on board. I tell you they sat +there in the midst of your enemies, captive! The lady Immada, with her +face covered, mourned to herself. The Rajah Hassim made a sign to Jaffir +and Jaffir came to stand by his side and talked to his lord. The main +hatch was open and many of the Illanuns crowded there to look down at +the goods that were inside the ship. They had never seen so much loot in +their lives. Jaffir and his lord could hear plainly Tuan Jorgenson and +Tengga talking together. Tengga discoursed loudly and his words were the +words of a doomed man, for he was asking Tuan Jorgenson to give up the +arms and everything that was on board the Emma to himself and to Daman. +And then, he said, 'We shall fight Belarab and make friends with these +strange white people by behaving generously to them and letting them +sail away unharmed to their own country. We don't want them here. You, +Tuan Jorgenson, are the only white man I care for.' They heard Tuan +Jorgenson say to Tengga: 'Now you have told me everything there is +in your mind you had better go ashore with your friends and return +to-morrow.' And Tengga asked: 'Why! would you fight me to-morrow rather +than live many days in peace with me?' and he laughed and slapped his +thigh. And Tuan Jorgenson answered: + +“'No, I won't fight you. But even a spider will give the fly time to say +its prayers.' + +“Tuan Jorgenson's voice sounded very strange and louder than ever +anybody had heard it before. O Rajah Laut, Jaffir and the white man had +been waiting, too, all night for some sign from you; a shot fired or a +signal-fire, lighted to strengthen their hearts. There had been nothing. +Rajah Hassim, whispering, ordered Jaffir to take the first opportunity +to leap overboard and take to you his message of friendship and +good-bye. Did the Rajah and Jaffir know what was coming? Who can tell? +But what else could they see than calamity for all Wajo men, whatever +Tuan Jorgenson had made up his mind to do? Jaffir prepared to obey his +lord, and yet with so many enemies' boats in the water he did not think +he would ever reach the shore; and as to yourself he was not at all sure +that you were still alive. But he said nothing of this to his Rajah. +Nobody was looking their way. Jaffir pressed his lord's hand to his +breast and waited his opportunity. The fog began to blow away and +presently everything was disclosed to the sight. Jorgenson was on his +feet, he was holding a lighted cigar between his fingers. Tengga was +sitting in front of him on one of the chairs the white people had used. +His followers were pressing round him, with Daman and Sentot, who were +muttering incantations; and even the Pangerans had moved closer to the +hatchway. Jaffir's opportunity had come but he lingered by the side +of his Rajah. In the clear air the sun shone with great force. Tuan +Jorgenson looked once more toward Belarab's stockade, O Rajah Laut! But +there was nothing there, not even a flag displayed that had not been +there before. Jaffir looked that way, too, and as he turned his head he +saw Tuan Jorgenson, in the midst of twenty spear-blades that could in an +instant have been driven into his breast, put the cigar in his mouth and +jump down the hatchway. At that moment Rajah Hassim gave Jaffir a push +toward the side and Jaffir leaped overboard. + +“He was still in the water when all the world was darkened round him as +if the life of the sun had been blown out of it in a crash. A great wave +came along and washed him on shore, while pieces of wood, iron, and the +limbs of torn men were splashing round him in the water. He managed to +crawl out of the mud. Something had hit him while he was swimming and he +thought he would die. But life stirred in him. He had a message for you. +For a long time he went on crawling under the big trees on his hands +and knees, for there is no rest for a messenger till the message is +delivered. At last he found himself on the left bank of the creek. +And still he felt life stir in him. So he started to swim across, for if +you were in this world you were on the other side. While he swam he felt +his strength abandoning him. He managed to scramble on to a drifting log +and lay on it like one who is dead, till we pulled him into one of our +boats.” + +Wasub ceased. It seemed to Lingard that it was impossible for mortal +man to suffer more than he suffered in the succeeding moment of silence +crowded by the mute images as of universal destruction. He felt +himself gone to pieces as though the violent expression of Jorgenson's +intolerable mistrust of the life of men had shattered his soul, leaving +his body robbed of all power of resistance and of all fortitude, a prey +forever to infinite remorse and endless regrets. + +“Leave me, Wasub,” he said. “They are all dead--but I would sleep.” + +Wasub raised his dumb old eyes to the white man's face. + +“Tuan, it is necessary that you should hear Jaffir,” he said, patiently. + +“Is he going to die?” asked Lingard in a low, cautious tone as though he +were afraid of the sound of his own voice. + +“Who can tell?” Wasub's voice sounded more patient than ever. “There is +no wound on his body but, O Tuan, he does not wish to live.” + +“Abandoned by his God,” muttered Lingard to himself. + +Wasub waited a little before he went on, “And, Tuan, he has a message +for you.” + +“Of course. Well, I don't want to hear it.” + +“It is from those who will never speak to you again,” Wasub persevered, +sadly. “It is a great trust. A Rajah's own words. It is difficult for +Jaffir to die. He keeps on muttering about a ring that was for you, and +that he let pass out of his care. It was a great talisman!” + +“Yes. But it did not work this time. And if I go and tell Jaffir why he +will be able to tell his Rajah, O Wasub, since you say that he is going +to die. . . . I wonder where they will meet,” he muttered to himself. + +Once more Wasub raised his eyes to Lingard's face. “Paradise is the lot +of all True Believers,” he whispered, firm in his simple faith. + +The man who had been undone by a glimpse of Paradise exchanged a +profound look with the old Malay. Then he got up. On his passage to the +main hatchway the commander of the brig met no one on the decks, as if +all mankind had given him up except the old man who preceded him and +that other man dying in the deepening twilight, who was awaiting his +coming. Below, in the light of the hatchway, he saw a young Calash with +a broad yellow face and his wiry hair sticking up in stiff wisps through +the folds of his head-kerchief, holding an earthenware water-jar to the +lips of Jaffir extended on his back on a pile of mats. + +A languid roll of the already glazed eyeballs, a mere stir of black +and white in the gathering dusk showed that the faithful messenger of +princes was aware of the presence of the man who had been so long known +to him and his people as the King of the Sea. Lingard knelt down close +to Jaffir's head, which rolled a little from side to side and then +became still, staring at a beam of the upper deck. Lingard bent his ear +to the dark lips. “Deliver your message” he said in a gentle tone. + +“The Rajah wished to hold your hand once more,” whispered Jaffir so +faintly that Lingard had to guess the words rather than hear them. “I +was to tell you,” he went on--and stopped suddenly. + +“What were you to tell me?” + +“To forget everything,” said Jaffir with a loud effort as if beginning a +long speech. After that he said nothing more till Lingard murmured, “And +the lady Immada?” + +Jaffir collected all his strength. “She hoped no more,” he uttered, +distinctly. “The order came to her while she mourned, veiled, apart. I +didn't even see her face.” + +Lingard swayed over the dying man so heavily that Wasub, standing near +by, hastened to catch him by the shoulder. Jaffir seemed unaware of +anything, and went on staring at the beam. + +“Can you hear me, O Jaffir?” asked Lingard. + +“I hear.” + +“I never had the ring. Who could bring it to me?” + +“We gave it to the white woman--may Jehannum be her lot!” + +“No! It shall be my lot,” said Lingard with despairing force, while +Wasub raised both his hands in dismay. “For, listen, Jaffir, if she had +given the ring to me it would have been to one that was dumb, deaf, and +robbed of all courage.” + +It was impossible to say whether Jaffir had heard. He made no sound, +there was no change in his awful stare, but his prone body moved under +the cotton sheet as if to get further away from the white man. Lingard +got up slowly and making a sign to Wasub to remain where he was, went up +on deck without giving another glance to the dying man. Again it seemed +to him that he was pacing the quarter-deck of a deserted ship. The +mulatto steward, watching through the crack of the pantry door, saw the +Captain stagger into the cuddy and fling-to the door behind him with +a crash. For more than an hour nobody approached that closed door till +Carter coming down the companion stairs spoke without attempting to open +it. + +“Are you there, sir?” The answer, “You may come in,” comforted the young +man by its strong resonance. He went in. + +“Well?” + +“Jaffir is dead. This moment. I thought you would want to know.” + +Lingard looked persistently at Carter, thinking that now Jaffir was +dead there was no one left on the empty earth to speak to him a word of +reproach; no one to know the greatness of his intentions, the bond of +fidelity between him and Hassim and Immada, the depth of his affection +for those people, the earnestness of his visions, and the unbounded +trust that was his reward. By the mad scorn of Jorgenson flaming up +against the life of men, all this was as if it had never been. It had +become a secret locked up in his own breast forever. + +“Tell Wasub to open one of the long-cloth bales in the hold, Mr. Carter, +and give the crew a cotton sheet to bury him decently according to their +faith. Let it be done to-night. They must have the boats, too. I suppose +they will want to take him on the sandbank.” + +“Yes, sir,” said Carter. + +“Let them have what they want, spades, torches. . . . Wasub will chant +the right words. Paradise is the lot of all True Believers. Do you +understand me, Mr. Carter? Paradise! I wonder what it will be for him! +Unless he gets messages to carry through the jungle, avoiding ambushes, +swimming in storms and knowing no rest, he won't like it.” + +Carter listened with an unmoved face. It seemed to him that the Captain +had forgotten his presence. + +“And all the time he will be sleeping on that sandbank,” Lingard began +again, sitting in his old place under the gilt thunderbolts suspended +over his head with his elbows on the table and his hands to his temples. +“If they want a board to set up at the grave let them have a piece of an +oak plank. It will stay there--till the next monsoon. Perhaps.” + +Carter felt uncomfortable before that tense stare which just missed +him and in that confined cabin seemed awful in its piercing and far-off +expression. But as he had not been dismissed he did not like to go away. + +“Everything will be done as you wish it, sir,” he said. “I suppose the +yacht will be leaving the first thing to-morrow morning, sir.” + +“If she doesn't we must give her a solid shot or two to liven her +up--eh, Mr. Carter?” + +Carter did not know whether to smile or to look horrified. In the end he +did both, but as to saying anything he found it impossible. But Lingard +did not expect an answer. + +“I believe you are going to stay with me, Mr. Carter?” + +“I told you, sir, I am your man if you want me.” + +“The trouble is, Mr. Carter, that I am no longer the man to whom you +spoke that night in Carimata.” + +“Neither am I, sir, in a manner of speaking.” + +Lingard, relaxing the tenseness of his stare, looked at the young man, +thoughtfully. + +“After all, it is the brig that will want you. She will never change. +The finest craft afloat in these seas. She will carry me about as she +did before, but . . .” + +He unclasped his hands, made a sweeping gesture. + +Carter gave all his naive sympathy to that man who had certainly rescued +the white people but seemed to have lost his own soul in the attempt. +Carter had heard something from Wasub. He had made out enough of this +story from the old serang's pidgin English to know that the Captain's +native friends, one of them a woman, had perished in a mysterious +catastrophe. But the why of it, and how it came about, remained still +quite incomprehensible to him. Of course, a man like the Captain would +feel terribly cut up. . . . + +“You will be soon yourself again, sir,” he said in the kindest possible +tone. + +With the same simplicity Lingard shook his head. He was thinking of the +dead Jaffir with his last message delivered and untroubled now by all +these matters of the earth. He had been ordered to tell him to forget +everything. Lingard had an inward shudder. In the dismay of his heart he +might have believed his brig to lie under the very wing of the Angel of +Desolation--so oppressive, so final, and hopeless seemed the silence in +which he and Carter looked at each other, wistfully. + +Lingard reached for a sheet of paper amongst several lying on the table, +took up a pen, hesitated a moment, and then wrote: + +“Meet me at day-break on the sandbank.” + +He addressed the envelope to Mrs. Travers, Yacht Hermit, and pushed it +across the table. + +“Send this on board the schooner at once, Mr. Carter. Wait a moment. +When our boats shove off for the sandbank have the forecastle gun fired. +I want to know when that dead man has left the ship.” + +He sat alone, leaning his head on his hand, listening, listening +endlessly, for the report of the gun. Would it never come? When it came +at last muffled, distant, with a slight shock through the body of the +brig he remained still with his head leaning on his hand but with a +distinct conviction, with an almost physical certitude, that under the +cotton sheet shrouding the dead man something of himself, too, had left +the ship. + + + +IX + +In a roomy cabin, furnished and fitted with austere comfort, Mr. Travers +reposed at ease in a low bed-place under a snowy white sheet and a light +silk coverlet, his head sunk in a white pillow of extreme purity. A +faint scent of lavender hung about the fresh linen. Though lying on his +back like a person who is seriously ill Mr. Travers was conscious +of nothing worse than a great fatigue. Mr. Travers' restfulness had +something faintly triumphant in it. To find himself again on board +his yacht had soothed his vanity and had revived his sense of his own +importance. He contemplated it in a distant perspective, restored to its +proper surroundings and unaffected by an adventure too extraordinary to +trouble a superior mind or even to remain in one's memory for any length +of time. He was not responsible. Like many men ambitious of +directing the affairs of a nation, Mr. Travers disliked the sense of +responsibility. He would not have been above evading it in case of need, +but with perverse loftiness he really, in his heart, scorned it. That +was the reason why he was able to lie at rest and enjoy a sense of +returning vigour. But he did not care much to talk as yet, and that was +why the silence in the stateroom had lasted for hours. The bulkhead lamp +had a green silk shade. It was unnecessary to admit for a moment the +existence of impudence or ruffianism. A discreet knocking at the cabin +door sounded deferential. + +Mrs. Travers got up to see what was wanted, and returned without +uttering a single word to the folding armchair by the side of the +bed-place, with an envelope in her hand which she tore open in the +greenish light. Mr. Travers remained incurious but his wife handed to +him an unfolded sheet of paper which he condescended to hold up to his +eyes. It contained only one line of writing. He let the paper fall on +the coverlet and went on reposing as before. It was a sick man's repose. +Mrs. Travers in the armchair, with her hands on the arm-rests, had a +great dignity of attitude. + +“I intend to go,” she declared after a time. + +“You intend to go,” repeated Mr. Travers in a feeble, deliberate voice. +“Really, it doesn't matter what you decide to do. All this is of so +little importance. It seems to me that there can be no possible object.” + +“Perhaps not,” she admitted. “But don't you think that the uttermost +farthing should always be paid?” + +Mr. Travers' head rolled over on the pillow and gave a covertly scared +look at that outspoken woman. But it rolled back again at once and the +whole man remained passive, the very embodiment of helpless exhaustion. +Mrs. Travers noticed this, and had the unexpected impression that Mr. +Travers was not so ill as he looked. “He's making the most of it. It's +a matter of diplomacy,” she thought. She thought this without irony, +bitterness, or disgust. Only her heart sank a little lower and she felt +that she could not remain in the cabin with that man for the rest of the +evening. For all life--yes! But not for that evening. + +“It's simply monstrous,” murmured the man, who was either very +diplomatic or very exhausted, in a languid manner. “There is something +abnormal in you.” + +Mrs. Travers got up swiftly. + +“One comes across monstrous things. But I assure you that of all the +monsters that wait on what you would call a normal existence the one I +dread most is tediousness. A merciless monster without teeth or claws. +Impotent. Horrible!” + +She left the stateroom, vanishing out of it with noiseless resolution. +No power on earth could have kept her in there for another minute. On +deck she found a moonless night with a velvety tepid feeling in the air, +and in the sky a mass of blurred starlight, like the tarnished tinsel of +a worn-out, very old, very tedious firmament. The usual routine of the +yacht had been already resumed, the awnings had been stretched aft, a +solitary round lamp had been hung as usual under the main boom. Out of +the deep gloom behind it d'Alcacer, a long, loose figure, lounged in the +dim light across the deck. D'Alcacer had got promptly in touch with +the store of cigarettes he owed to the Governor General's generosity. A +large, pulsating spark glowed, illuminating redly the design of his +lips under the fine dark moustache, the tip of his nose, his lean chin. +D'Alcacer reproached himself for an unwonted light-heartedness which +had somehow taken possession of him. He had not experienced that sort of +feeling for years. Reprehensible as it was he did not want anything to +disturb it. But as he could not run away openly from Mrs. Travers he +advanced to meet her. + +“I do hope you have nothing to tell me,” he said with whimsical +earnestness. + +“I? No! Have you?” + +He assured her he had not, and proffered a request. “Don't let us tell +each other anything, Mrs. Travers. Don't let us think of anything. I +believe it will be the best way to get over the evening.” There was real +anxiety in his jesting tone. + +“Very well,” Mrs. Travers assented, seriously. “But in that case we had +better not remain together.” She asked, then, d'Alcacer to go below and +sit with Mr. Travers who didn't like to be left alone. “Though he, too, +doesn't seem to want to be told anything,” she added, parenthetically, +and went on: “But I must ask you something else, Mr. d'Alcacer. I +propose to sit down in this chair and go to sleep--if I can. Will you +promise to call me about five o'clock? I prefer not to speak to any one +on deck, and, moreover, I can trust you.” + +He bowed in silence and went away slowly. Mrs. Travers, turning her +head, perceived a steady light at the brig's yard-arm, very bright among +the tarnished stars. She walked aft and looked over the taffrail. It was +exactly like that other night. She half expected to hear presently the +low, rippling sound of an advancing boat. But the universe remained +without a sound. When she at last dropped into the deck chair she was +absolutely at the end of her power of thinking. “I suppose that's +how the condemned manage to get some sleep on the night before the +execution,” she said to herself a moment before her eyelids closed as if +under a leaden hand. + +She woke up, with her face wet with tears, out of a vivid dream of +Lingard in chain-mail armour and vaguely recalling a Crusader, but +bare-headed and walking away from her in the depths of an impossible +landscape. She hurried on to catch up with him but a throng of +barbarians with enormous turbans came between them at the last moment +and she lost sight of him forever in the flurry of a ghastly sand-storm. +What frightened her most was that she had not been able to see his face. +It was then that she began to cry over her hard fate. When she woke up +the tears were still rolling down her cheeks and she perceived in the +light of the deck-lamp d'Alcacer arrested a little way off. + +“Did you have to speak to me?” she asked. + +“No,” said d'Alcacer. “You didn't give me time. When I came as far as +this I fancied I heard you sobbing. It must have been a delusion.” + +“Oh, no. My face is wet yet. It was a dream. I suppose it is five +o'clock. Thank you for being so punctual. I have something to do before +sunrise.” + +D'Alcacer moved nearer. “I know. You have decided to keep an appointment +on the sandbank. Your husband didn't utter twenty words in all these +hours but he managed to tell me that piece of news.” + +“I shouldn't have thought,” she murmured, vaguely. + +“He wanted me to understand that it had no importance,” stated d'Alcacer +in a very serious tone. + +“Yes. He knows what he is talking about,” said Mrs. Travers in such +a bitter tone as to disconcert d'Alcacer for a moment. “I don't see a +single soul about the decks,” Mrs. Travers continued, almost directly. + +“The very watchmen are asleep,” said d'Alcacer. + +“There is nothing secret in this expedition, but I prefer not to call +any one. Perhaps you wouldn't mind pulling me off yourself in our small +boat.” + +It seemed to her that d'Alcacer showed some hesitation. She added: “It +has no importance, you know.” + +He bowed his assent and preceded her down the side in silence. When she +entered the boat he had the sculls ready and directly she sat down he +shoved off. It was so dark yet that but for the brig's yard-arm light he +could not have kept his direction. He pulled a very deliberate stroke, +looking over his shoulder frequently. It was Mrs. Travers who saw first +the faint gleam of the uncovered sandspit on the black, quiet water. + +“A little more to the left,” she said. “No, the other way. . . .” + D'Alcacer obeyed her directions but his stroke grew even slower than +before. She spoke again. “Don't you think that the uttermost farthing +should always be paid, Mr. d'Alcacer?” + +D'Alcacer glanced over his shoulder, then: “It would be the only +honourable way. But it may be hard. Too hard for our common fearful +hearts.” + +“I am prepared for anything.” + +He ceased pulling for a moment . . . “Anything that may be found on +a sandbank,” Mrs. Travers went on. “On an arid, insignificant, and +deserted sandbank.” + +D'Alcacer gave two strokes and ceased again. + +“There is room for a whole world of suffering on a sandbank, for all the +bitterness and resentment a human soul may be made to feel.” + +“Yes, I suppose you would know,” she whispered while he gave a stroke or +two and again glanced over his shoulder. She murmured the words: + +“Bitterness, resentment,” and a moment afterward became aware of the +keel of the boat running up on the sand. But she didn't move, and +d'Alcacer, too, remained seated on the thwart with the blades of his +sculls raised as if ready to drop them and back the dinghy out into deep +water at the first sign. + +Mrs. Travers made no sign, but she asked, abruptly: “Mr. d'Alcacer, do +you think I shall ever come back?” + +Her tone seemed to him to lack sincerity. But who could tell what +this abruptness covered--sincere fear or mere vanity? He asked himself +whether she was playing a part for his benefit, or only for herself. + +“I don't think you quite understand the situation, Mrs. Travers. I +don't think you have a clear idea, either of his simplicity or of his +visionary's pride.” + +She thought, contemptuously, that there were other things which +d'Alcacer didn't know and surrendered to a sudden temptation to +enlighten him a little. + +“You forget his capacity for passion and that his simplicity doesn't +know its own strength.” + +There was no mistaking the sincerity of that murmur. “She has felt it,” + d'Alcacer said to himself with absolute certitude. He wondered when, +where, how, on what occasion? Mrs. Travers stood up in the stern sheets +suddenly and d'Alcacer leaped on the sand to help her out of the boat. + +“Hadn't I better hang about here to take you back again?” he suggested, +as he let go her hand. + +“You mustn't!” she exclaimed, anxiously. “You must return to the yacht. +There will be plenty of light in another hour. I will come to this spot +and wave my handkerchief when I want to be taken off.” + +At their feet the shallow water slept profoundly, the ghostly gleam of +the sands baffled the eye by its lack of form. Far off, the growth of +bushes in the centre raised a massive black bulk against the stars to +the southward. Mrs. Travers lingered for a moment near the boat as if +afraid of the strange solitude of this lonely sandbank and of this lone +sea that seemed to fill the whole encircling universe of remote stars +and limitless shadows. “There is nobody here,” she whispered to herself. + +“He is somewhere about waiting for you, or I don't know the man,” + affirmed d'Alcacer in an undertone. He gave a vigorous shove which sent +the little boat into the water. + +D'Alcacer was perfectly right. Lingard had come up on deck long before +Mrs. Travers woke up with her face wet with tears. The burial party had +returned hours before and the crew of the brig were plunged in +sleep, except for two watchmen, who at Lingard's appearance retreated +noiselessly from the poop. Lingard, leaning on the rail, fell into +a sombre reverie of his past. Reproachful spectres crowded the air, +animated and vocal, not in the articulate language of mortals but +assailing him with faint sobs, deep sighs, and fateful gestures. When he +came to himself and turned about they vanished, all but one dark shape +without sound or movement. Lingard looked at it with secret horror. + +“Who's that?” he asked in a troubled voice. + +The shadow moved closer: “It's only me, sir,” said Carter, who had left +orders to be called directly the Captain was seen on deck. + +“Oh, yes, I might have known,” mumbled Lingard in some confusion. He +requested Carter to have a boat manned and when after a time the young +man told him that it was ready, he said “All right!” and remained +leaning on his elbow. + +“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Carter after a longish silence, “but are +you going some distance?” + +“No, I only want to be put ashore on the sandbank.” + +Carter was relieved to hear this, but also surprised. “There is nothing +living there, sir,” he said. + +“I wonder,” muttered Lingard. + +“But I am certain,” Carter insisted. “The last of the women and children +belonging to those cut-throats were taken off by the sampans which +brought you and the yacht-party out.” + +He walked at Lingard's elbow to the gangway and listened to his orders. + +“Directly there is enough light to see flags by, make a signal to the +schooner to heave short on her cable and loose her sails. If there +is any hanging back give them a blank gun, Mr. Carter. I will have no +shilly-shallying. If she doesn't go at the word, by heavens, I will +drive her out. I am still master here--for another day.” + +The overwhelming sense of immensity, of disturbing emptiness, which +affects those who walk on the sands in the midst of the sea, intimidated +Mrs. Travers. The world resembled a limitless flat shadow which was +motionless and elusive. Then against the southern stars she saw a human +form that isolated and lone appeared to her immense: the shape of a +giant outlined amongst the constellations. As it approached her +it shrank to common proportions, got clear of the stars, lost its +awesomeness, and became menacing in its ominous and silent advance. Mrs. +Travers hastened to speak. + +“You have asked for me. I am come. I trust you will have no reason to +regret my obedience.” + +He walked up quite close to her, bent down slightly to peer into her +face. The first of the tropical dawn put its characteristic cold sheen +into the sky above the Shore of Refuge. + +Mrs. Travers did not turn away her head. + +“Are you looking for a change in me? No. You won't see it. Now I know +that I couldn't change even if I wanted to. I am made of clay that is +too hard.” + +“I am looking at you for the first time,” said Lingard. “I never could +see you before. There were too many things, too many thoughts, too many +people. No, I never saw you before. But now the world is dead.” + +He grasped her shoulders, approaching his face close to hers. She never +flinched. + +“Yes, the world is dead,” she said. “Look your fill then. It won't be +for long.” + +He let her go as suddenly as though she had struck him. The cold white +light of the tropical dawn had crept past the zenith now and the expanse +of the shallow waters looked cold, too, without stir or ripple within +the enormous rim of the horizon where, to the west, a shadow lingered +still. + +“Take my arm,” he said. + +She did so at once, and turning their backs on the two ships they began +to walk along the sands, but they had not made many steps when Mrs. +Travers perceived an oblong mound with a board planted upright at one +end. Mrs. Travers knew that part of the sands. It was here she used to +walk with her husband and d'Alcacer every evening after dinner, +while the yacht lay stranded and her boats were away in search of +assistance--which they had found--which they had found! This was +something that she had never seen there before. Lingard had suddenly +stopped and looked at it moodily. She pressed his arm to rouse him and +asked, “What is this?” + +“This is a grave,” said Lingard in a low voice, and still gazing at the +heap of sand. “I had him taken out of the ship last night. Strange,” he +went on in a musing tone, “how much a grave big enough for one man only +can hold. His message was to forget everything.” + +“Never, never,” murmured Mrs. Travers. “I wish I had been on board the +Emma. . . . You had a madman there,” she cried out, suddenly. They moved +on again, Lingard looking at Mrs. Travers who was leaning on his arm. + +“I wonder which of us two was mad,” he said. + +“I wonder you can bear to look at me,” she murmured. Then Lingard spoke +again. + +“I had to see you once more.” + +“That abominable Jorgenson,” she whispered to herself. + +“No, no, he gave me my chance--before he gave me up.” + +Mrs. Travers disengaged her arm and Lingard stopped, too, facing her in +a long silence. + +“I could not refuse to meet you,” said Mrs. Travers at last. “I could +not refuse you anything. You have all the right on your side and I don't +care what you do or say. But I wonder at my own courage when I think of +the confession I have to make.” She advanced, laid her hand on Lingard's +shoulder and spoke earnestly. “I shuddered at the thought of meeting you +again. And now you must listen to my confession.” + +“Don't say a word,” said Lingard in an untroubled voice and never taking +his eyes from her face. “I know already.” + +“You can't,” she cried. Her hand slipped off his shoulder. “Then why +don't you throw me into the sea?” she asked, passionately. “Am I to live +on hating myself?” + +“You mustn't!” he said with an accent of fear. “Haven't you understood +long ago that if you had given me that ring it would have been just the +same?” + +“Am I to believe this? No, no! You are too generous to a mere sham. You +are the most magnanimous of men but you are throwing it away on me. +Do you think it is remorse that I feel? No. If it is anything it is +despair. But you must have known that--and yet you wanted to look at me +again.” + +“I told you I never had a chance before,” said Lingard in an unmoved +voice. “It was only after I heard they gave you the ring that I felt the +hold you have got on me. How could I tell before? What has hate or love +to do with you and me? Hate. Love. What can touch you? For me you stand +above death itself; for I see now that as long as I live you will never +die.” + +They confronted each other at the southern edge of the sands as if +afloat on the open sea. The central ridge heaped up by the winds masked +from them the very mastheads of the two ships and the growing brightness +of the light only augmented the sense of their invincible solitude +in the awful serenity of the world. Mrs. Travers suddenly put her arm +across her eyes and averted her face. + +Then he added: + +“That's all.” + +Mrs. Travers let fall her arm and began to retrace her steps, +unsupported and alone. Lingard followed her on the edge of the sand +uncovered by the ebbing tide. A belt of orange light appeared in the +cold sky above the black forest of the Shore of Refuge and faded quickly +to gold that melted soon into a blinding and colourless glare. It was +not till after she had passed Jaffir's grave that Mrs. Travers stole a +backward glance and discovered that she was alone. Lingard had left her +to herself. She saw him sitting near the mound of sand, his back bowed, +his hands clasping his knees, as if he had obeyed the invincible call of +his great visions haunting the grave of the faithful messenger. Shading +her eyes with her hand Mrs. Travers watched the immobility of that man +of infinite illusions. He never moved, he never raised his head. It was +all over. He was done with her. She waited a little longer and then went +slowly on her way. + +Shaw, now acting second mate of the yacht, came off with another hand +in a little boat to take Mrs. Travers on board. He stared at her like an +offended owl. How the lady could suddenly appear at sunrise waving her +handkerchief from the sandbank he could not understand. For, even if she +had managed to row herself off secretly in the dark, she could not have +sent the empty boat back to the yacht. It was to Shaw a sort of improper +miracle. + +D'Alcacer hurried to the top of the side ladder and as they met on deck +Mrs. Travers astonished him by saying in a strangely provoking tone: + +“You were right. I have come back.” Then with a little laugh which +impressed d'Alcacer painfully she added with a nod downward, “and +Martin, too, was perfectly right. It was absolutely unimportant.” + +She walked on straight to the taffrail and d'Alcacer followed her aft, +alarmed at her white face, at her brusque movements, at the nervous way +in which she was fumbling at her throat. He waited discreetly till she +turned round and thrust out toward him her open palm on which he saw a +thick gold ring set with a large green stone. + +“Look at this, Mr. d'Alcacer. This is the thing which I asked you +whether I should give up or conceal--the symbol of the last hour--the +call of the supreme minute. And he said it would have made no +difference! He is the most magnanimous of men and the uttermost farthing +has been paid. He has done with me. The most magnanimous . . . but there +is a grave on the sands by which I left him sitting with no glance +to spare for me. His last glance on earth! I am left with this thing. +Absolutely unimportant. A dead talisman.” With a nervous jerk she flung +the ring overboard, then with a hurried entreaty to d'Alcacer, “Stay +here a moment. Don't let anybody come near us,” she burst into tears and +turned her back on him. + +Lingard returned on board his brig and in the early afternoon the +Lightning got under way, running past the schooner to give her a lead +through the maze of Shoals. Lingard was on deck but never looked once +at the following vessel. Directly both ships were in clear water he went +below saying to Carter: “You know what to do.” + +“Yes, sir,” said Carter. + +Shortly after his Captain had disappeared from the deck Carter laid the +main topsail to the mast. The Lightning lost her way while the schooner +with all her light kites abroad passed close under her stern holding on +her course. Mrs. Travers stood aft very rigid, gripping the rail with +both hands. The brim of her white hat was blown upward on one side and +her yachting skirt stirred in the breeze. By her side d'Alcacer waved +his hand courteously. Carter raised his cap to them. + +During the afternoon he paced the poop with measured steps, with a pair +of binoculars in his hand. At last he laid the glasses down, glanced at +the compass-card and walked to the cabin skylight which was open. + +“Just lost her, sir,” he said. All was still down there. He raised his +voice a little: + +“You told me to let you know directly I lost sight of the yacht.” + +The sound of a stifled groan reached the attentive Carter and a weary +voice said, “All right, I am coming.” + +When Lingard stepped out on the poop of the Lightning the open water +had turned purple already in the evening light, while to the east the +Shallows made a steely glitter all along the sombre line of the shore. +Lingard, with folded arms, looked over the sea. Carter approached him +and spoke quietly. + +“The tide has turned and the night is coming on. Hadn't we better get +away from these Shoals, sir?” + +Lingard did not stir. + +“Yes, the night is coming on. You may fill the main topsail, Mr. +Carter,” he said and he relapsed into silence with his eyes fixed in +the southern board where the shadows were creeping stealthily toward the +setting sun. Presently Carter stood at his elbow again. + +“The brig is beginning to forge ahead, sir,” he said in a warning tone. + +Lingard came out of his absorption with a deep tremor of his powerful +frame like the shudder of an uprooted tree. + +“How was the yacht heading when you lost sight of her?” he asked. + +“South as near as possible,” answered Carter. “Will you give me a course +to steer for the night, sir?” + +Lingard's lips trembled before he spoke but his voice was calm. + +“Steer north,” he said. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rescue, by Joseph Conrad + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RESCUE *** + +***** This file should be named 1712-0.txt or 1712-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/1/1712/ + +Produced by Judy Boss and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Rescue + +Author: Joseph Conrad + +Release Date: January 9, 2006 [EBook #1712] +Last Updated: March 2, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RESCUE *** + + + + +Produced by Judy Boss and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE RESCUE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + A ROMANCE OF THE SHALLOWS + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Joseph Conrad + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="middle"> + <p> + 'Allas!' quod she, 'that ever this sholde happe! For wende I never, + by possibilitee, That swich a monstre or merveille mighte be!' + —THE FRANKELEYN'S TALE + </p> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="middle"> + <p> + TO FREDERIC COURTLAND PENFIELD LAST AMBASSADOR OF THE UNITED STATES OF + AMERICA TO THE LATE AUSTRIAN EMPIRE, THIS OLD TIME TALE IS GRATEFULLY + INSCRIBED IN MEMORY OF THE RESCUE OF CERTAIN DISTRESSED TRAVELLERS + EFFECTED BY HIM IN THE WORLD'S GREAT STORM OF THE YEAR 1914<br /> + </p></div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <h4> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> AUTHOR'S NOTE </a> + </h4> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_PART1"> PART I.</a> + </td> + <td> + THE MAN AND THE BRIG + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_PART2"> PART II.</a> + </td> + <td> + THE SHORE OF REFUGE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_PART3"> PART III. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE CAPTURE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_PART4"> PART IV.</a> + </td> + <td> + THE GIFT OF THE SHALLOWS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_PART5"> PART V.</a> + </td> + <td> + THE POINT OF HONOUR AND THE POINT OF PASSION + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_PART6"> PART VI.</a> + </td> + <td> + THE CLAIM OF LIFE AND THE TOLL OF DEATH + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + AUTHOR'S NOTE + </h2> + <p> + Of the three long novels of mine which suffered an interruption, “The + Rescue” was the one that had to wait the longest for the good pleasure of + the Fates. I am betraying no secret when I state here that it had to wait + precisely for twenty years. I laid it aside at the end of the summer of + 1898 and it was about the end of the summer of 1918 that I took it up + again with the firm determination to see the end of it and helped by the + sudden feeling that I might be equal to the task. + </p> + <p> + This does not mean that I turned to it with elation. I was well aware and + perhaps even too much aware of the dangers of such an adventure. The + amazingly sympathetic kindness which men of various temperaments, diverse + views and different literary tastes have been for years displaying towards + my work has done much for me, has done all—except giving me that + over-weening self-confidence which may assist an adventurer sometimes but + in the long run ends by leading him to the gallows. + </p> + <p> + As the characteristic I want most to impress upon these short Author's + Notes prepared for my first Collected Edition is that of absolute + frankness, I hasten to declare that I founded my hopes not on my supposed + merits but on the continued goodwill of my readers. I may say at once that + my hopes have been justified out of all proportion to my deserts. I met + with the most considerate, most delicately expressed criticism free from + all antagonism and in its conclusions showing an insight which in itself + could not fail to move me deeply, but was associated also with enough + commendation to make me feel rich beyond the dreams of avarice—I + mean an artist's avarice which seeks its treasure in the hearts of men and + women. + </p> + <p> + No! Whatever the preliminary anxieties might have been this adventure was + not to end in sorrow. Once more Fortune favoured audacity; and yet I have + never forgotten the jocular translation of <i>Audaces fortuna juvat</i> + offered to me by my tutor when I was a small boy: “The Audacious get + bitten.” However he took care to mention that there were various kinds of + audacity. Oh, there are, there are! . . . There is, for instance, the kind + of audacity almost indistinguishable from impudence. . . . I must believe + that in this case I have not been impudent for I am not conscious of + having been bitten. + </p> + <p> + The truth is that when “The Rescue” was laid aside it was not laid aside + in despair. Several reasons contributed to this abandonment and, no doubt, + the first of them was the growing sense of general difficulty in the + handling of the subject. The contents and the course of the story I had + clearly in my mind. But as to the way of presenting the facts, and perhaps + in a certain measure as to the nature of the facts themselves, I had many + doubts. I mean the telling, representative facts, helpful to carry on the + idea, and, at the same time, of such a nature as not to demand an + elaborate creation of the atmosphere to the detriment of the action. I did + not see how I could avoid becoming wearisome in the presentation of detail + and in the pursuit of clearness. I saw the action plainly enough. What I + had lost for the moment was the sense of the proper formula of expression, + the only formula that would suit. This, of course, weakened my confidence + in the intrinsic worth and in the possible interest of the story—that + is in my invention. But I suspect that all the trouble was, in reality, + the doubt of my prose, the doubt of its adequacy, of its power to master + both the colours and the shades. + </p> + <p> + It is difficult to describe, exactly as I remember it, the complex state + of my feelings; but those of my readers who take an interest in artistic + perplexities will understand me best when I point out that I dropped “The + Rescue” not to give myself up to idleness, regrets, or dreaming, but to + begin “The Nigger of the 'Narcissus'” and to go on with it without + hesitation and without a pause. A comparison of any page of “The Rescue” + with any page of “The Nigger” will furnish an ocular demonstration of the + nature and the inward meaning of this first crisis of my writing life. For + it was a crisis undoubtedly. The laying aside of a work so far advanced + was a very awful decision to take. It was wrung from me by a sudden + conviction that <i>there</i> only was the road of salvation, the clear way + out for an uneasy conscience. The finishing of “The Nigger” brought to my + troubled mind the comforting sense of an accomplished task, and the first + consciousness of a certain sort of mastery which could accomplish + something with the aid of propitious stars. Why I did not return to “The + Rescue” at once then, was not for the reason that I had grown afraid of + it. Being able now to assume a firm attitude I said to myself + deliberately: “That thing can wait.” At the same time I was just as + certain in my mind that “Youth,” a story which I had then, so to speak, on + the tip of my pen, could <i>not</i> wait. Neither could “Heart of + Darkness” be put off; for the practical reason that Mr. Wm. Blackwood + having requested me to write something for the No. M of his magazine I had + to stir up at once the subject of that tale which had been long lying + quiescent in my mind, because, obviously, the venerable Maga at her + patriarchal age of 1000 numbers could not be kept waiting. Then “Lord + Jim,” with about seventeen pages already written at odd times, put in his + claim which was irresistible. Thus every stroke of the pen was taking me + further away from the abandoned “Rescue,” not without some compunction on + my part but with a gradually diminishing resistance; till at last I let + myself go as if recognising a superior influence against which it was + useless to contend. + </p> + <p> + The years passed and the pages grew in number, and the long reveries of + which they were the outcome stretched wide between me and the deserted + “Rescue” like the smooth hazy spaces of a dreamy sea. Yet I never actually + lost sight of that dark speck in the misty distance. It had grown very + small but it asserted itself with the appeal of old associations. It + seemed to me that it would be a base thing for me to slip out of the world + leaving it out there all alone, waiting for its fate—that would + never come? + </p> + <p> + Sentiment, pure sentiment as you see, prompted me in the last instance to + face the pains and hazards of that return. As I moved slowly towards the + abandoned body of the tale it loomed up big amongst the glittering + shallows of the coast, lonely but not forbidding. There was nothing about + it of a grim derelict. It had an air of expectant life. One after another + I made out the familiar faces watching my approach with faint smiles of + amused recognition. They had known well enough that I was bound to come + back to them. But their eyes met mine seriously as was only to be expected + since I, myself, felt very serious as I stood amongst them again after + years of absence. At once, without wasting words, we went to work together + on our renewed life; and every moment I felt more strongly that They Who + had Waited bore no grudge to the man who however widely he may have + wandered at times had played truant only once in his life. + </p> + <p> + 1920. J. C. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + PART I. THE MAN AND THE BRIG + </h2> + <p> + The shallow sea that foams and murmurs on the shores of the thousand + islands, big and little, which make up the Malay Archipelago has been for + centuries the scene of adventurous undertakings. The vices and the virtues + of four nations have been displayed in the conquest of that region that + even to this day has not been robbed of all the mystery and romance of its + past—and the race of men who had fought against the Portuguese, the + Spaniards, the Dutch and the English, has not been changed by the + unavoidable defeat. They have kept to this day their love of liberty, + their fanatical devotion to their chiefs, their blind fidelity in + friendship and hate—all their lawful and unlawful instincts. Their + country of land and water—for the sea was as much their country as + the earth of their islands—has fallen a prey to the western race—the + reward of superior strength if not of superior virtue. To-morrow the + advancing civilization will obliterate the marks of a long struggle in the + accomplishment of its inevitable victory. + </p> + <p> + The adventurers who began that struggle have left no descendants. The + ideas of the world changed too quickly for that. But even far into the + present century they have had successors. Almost in our own day we have + seen one of them—a true adventurer in his devotion to his impulse—a + man of high mind and of pure heart, lay the foundation of a flourishing + state on the ideas of pity and justice. He recognized chivalrously the + claims of the conquered; he was a disinterested adventurer, and the reward + of his noble instincts is in the veneration with which a strange and + faithful race cherish his memory. + </p> + <p> + Misunderstood and traduced in life, the glory of his achievement has + vindicated the purity of his motives. He belongs to history. But there + were others—obscure adventurers who had not his advantages of birth, + position, and intelligence; who had only his sympathy with the people of + forests and sea he understood and loved so well. They can not be said to + be forgotten since they have not been known at all. They were lost in the + common crowd of seamen-traders of the Archipelago, and if they emerged + from their obscurity it was only to be condemned as law-breakers. Their + lives were thrown away for a cause that had no right to exist in the face + of an irresistible and orderly progress—their thoughtless lives + guided by a simple feeling. + </p> + <p> + But the wasted lives, for the few who know, have tinged with romance the + region of shallow waters and forest-clad islands, that lies far east, and + still mysterious between the deep waters of two oceans. + </p> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + Out of the level blue of a shallow sea Carimata raises a lofty barrenness + of grey and yellow tints, the drab eminence of its arid heights. Separated + by a narrow strip of water, Suroeton, to the west, shows a curved and + ridged outline resembling the backbone of a stooping giant. And to the + eastward a troop of insignificant islets stand effaced, indistinct, with + vague features that seem to melt into the gathering shadows. The night + following from the eastward the retreat of the setting sun advanced + slowly, swallowing the land and the sea; the land broken, tormented and + abrupt; the sea smooth and inviting with its easy polish of continuous + surface to wanderings facile and endless. + </p> + <p> + There was no wind, and a small brig that had lain all the afternoon a few + miles to the northward and westward of Carimata had hardly altered its + position half a mile during all these hours. The calm was absolute, a + dead, flat calm, the stillness of a dead sea and of a dead atmosphere. As + far as the eye could reach there was nothing but an impressive immobility. + Nothing moved on earth, on the waters, and above them in the unbroken + lustre of the sky. On the unruffled surface of the straits the brig + floated tranquil and upright as if bolted solidly, keel to keel, with its + own image reflected in the unframed and immense mirror of the sea. To the + south and east the double islands watched silently the double ship that + seemed fixed amongst them forever, a hopeless captive of the calm, a + helpless prisoner of the shallow sea. + </p> + <p> + Since midday, when the light and capricious airs of these seas had + abandoned the little brig to its lingering fate, her head had swung slowly + to the westward and the end of her slender and polished jib-boom, + projecting boldly beyond the graceful curve of the bow, pointed at the + setting sun, like a spear poised high in the hand of an enemy. Right aft + by the wheel the Malay quartermaster stood with his bare, brown feet + firmly planted on the wheel-grating, and holding the spokes at right + angles, in a solid grasp, as though the ship had been running before a + gale. He stood there perfectly motionless, as if petrified but ready to + tend the helm as soon as fate would permit the brig to gather way through + the oily sea. + </p> + <p> + The only other human being then visible on the brig's deck was the person + in charge: a white man of low stature, thick-set, with shaven cheeks, a + grizzled moustache, and a face tinted a scarlet hue by the burning suns + and by the sharp salt breezes of the seas. He had thrown off his light + jacket, and clad only in white trousers and a thin cotton singlet, with + his stout arms crossed on his breast—upon which they showed like two + thick lumps of raw flesh—he prowled about from side to side of the + half-poop. On his bare feet he wore a pair of straw sandals, and his head + was protected by an enormous pith hat—once white but now very dirty—which + gave to the whole man the aspect of a phenomenal and animated mushroom. At + times he would interrupt his uneasy shuffle athwart the break of the poop, + and stand motionless with a vague gaze fixed on the image of the brig in + the calm water. He could also see down there his own head and shoulders + leaning out over the rail and he would stand long, as if interested by his + own features, and mutter vague curses on the calm which lay upon the ship + like an immovable burden, immense and burning. + </p> + <p> + At last, he sighed profoundly, nerved himself for a great effort, and + making a start away from the rail managed to drag his slippers as far as + the binnacle. There he stopped again, exhausted and bored. From under the + lifted glass panes of the cabin skylight near by came the feeble chirp of + a canary, which appeared to give him some satisfaction. He listened, + smiled faintly muttered “Dicky, poor Dick—” and fell back into the + immense silence of the world. His eyes closed, his head hung low over the + hot brass of the binnacle top. Suddenly he stood up with a jerk and said + sharply in a hoarse voice: + </p> + <p> + “You've been sleeping—you. Shift the helm. She has got stern way on + her.” + </p> + <p> + The Malay, without the least flinch of feature or pose, as if he had been + an inanimate object called suddenly into life by some hidden magic of the + words, spun the wheel rapidly, letting the spokes pass through his hands; + and when the motion had stopped with a grinding noise, caught hold again + and held on grimly. After a while, however, he turned his head slowly over + his shoulder, glanced at the sea, and said in an obstinate tone: + </p> + <p> + “No catch wind—no get way.” + </p> + <p> + “No catch—no catch—that's all you know about it,” growled the + red-faced seaman. “By and by catch Ali—” he went on with sudden + condescension. “By and by catch, and then the helm will be the right way. + See?” + </p> + <p> + The stolid seacannie appeared to see, and for that matter to hear, + nothing. The white man looked at the impassive Malay with disgust, then + glanced around the horizon—then again at the helmsman and ordered + curtly: + </p> + <p> + “Shift the helm back again. Don't you feel the air from aft? You are like + a dummy standing there.” + </p> + <p> + The Malay revolved the spokes again with disdainful obedience, and the + red-faced man was moving forward grunting to himself, when through the + open skylight the hail “On deck there!” arrested him short, attentive, and + with a sudden change to amiability in the expression of his face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” he said, bending his ear toward the opening. “What's the + matter up there?” asked a deep voice from below. + </p> + <p> + The red-faced man in a tone of surprise said: + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I hear that rudder grinding hard up and hard down. What are you up to, + Shaw? Any wind?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es,” drawled Shaw, putting his head down the skylight and speaking + into the gloom of the cabin. “I thought there was a light air, and—but + it's gone now. Not a breath anywhere under the heavens.” + </p> + <p> + He withdrew his head and waited a while by the skylight, but heard only + the chirping of the indefatigable canary, a feeble twittering that seemed + to ooze through the drooping red blossoms of geraniums growing in + flower-pots under the glass panes. He strolled away a step or two before + the voice from down below called hurriedly: + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Shaw? Are you there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Captain Lingard,” he answered, stepping back. “Have we drifted + anything this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “Not an inch, sir, not an inch. We might as well have been at anchor.” + </p> + <p> + “It's always so,” said the invisible Lingard. His voice changed its tone + as he moved in the cabin, and directly afterward burst out with a clear + intonation while his head appeared above the slide of the cabin entrance: + </p> + <p> + “Always so! The currents don't begin till it's dark, when a man can't see + against what confounded thing he is being drifted, and then the breeze + will come. Dead on end, too, I don't doubt.” + </p> + <p> + Shaw moved his shoulders slightly. The Malay at the wheel, after making a + dive to see the time by the cabin clock through the skylight, rang a + double stroke on the small bell aft. Directly forward, on the main deck, a + shrill whistle arose long drawn, modulated, dying away softly. The master + of the brig stepped out of the companion upon the deck of his vessel, + glanced aloft at the yards laid dead square; then, from the door-step, + took a long, lingering look round the horizon. + </p> + <p> + He was about thirty-five, erect and supple. He moved freely, more like a + man accustomed to stride over plains and hills, than like one who from his + earliest youth had been used to counteract by sudden swayings of his body + the rise and roll of cramped decks of small craft, tossed by the caprice + of angry or playful seas. + </p> + <p> + He wore a grey flannel shirt, and his white trousers were held by a blue + silk scarf wound tightly round his narrow waist. He had come up only for a + moment, but finding the poop shaded by the main-topsail he remained on + deck bareheaded. The light chestnut hair curled close about his + well-shaped head, and the clipped beard glinted vividly when he passed + across a narrow strip of sunlight, as if every hair in it had been a wavy + and attenuated gold wire. His mouth was lost in the heavy moustache; his + nose was straight, short, slightly blunted at the end; a broad band of + deeper red stretched under the eyes, clung to the cheek bones. The eyes + gave the face its remarkable expression. The eyebrows, darker than the + hair, pencilled a straight line below the wide and unwrinkled brow much + whiter than the sunburnt face. The eyes, as if glowing with the light of a + hidden fire, had a red glint in their greyness that gave a scrutinizing + ardour to the steadiness of their gaze. + </p> + <p> + That man, once so well known, and now so completely forgotten amongst the + charming and heartless shores of the shallow sea, had amongst his fellows + the nickname of “Red-Eyed Tom.” He was proud of his luck but not of his + good sense. He was proud of his brig, of the speed of his craft, which was + reckoned the swiftest country vessel in those seas, and proud of what she + represented. + </p> + <p> + She represented a run of luck on the Victorian goldfields; his sagacious + moderation; long days of planning, of loving care in building; the great + joy of his youth, the incomparable freedom of the seas; a perfect because + a wandering home; his independence, his love—and his anxiety. He had + often heard men say that Tom Lingard cared for nothing on earth but for + his brig—and in his thoughts he would smilingly correct the + statement by adding that he cared for nothing <i>living</i> but the brig. + </p> + <p> + To him she was as full of life as the great world. He felt her live in + every motion, in every roll, in every sway of her tapering masts, of those + masts whose painted trucks move forever, to a seaman's eye, against the + clouds or against the stars. To him she was always precious—like old + love; always desirable—like a strange woman; always tender—like + a mother; always faithful—like the favourite daughter of a man's + heart. + </p> + <p> + For hours he would stand elbow on rail, his head in his hand and listen—and + listen in dreamy stillness to the cajoling and promising whisper of the + sea, that slipped past in vanishing bubbles along the smooth black-painted + sides of his craft. What passed in such moments of thoughtful solitude + through the mind of that child of generations of fishermen from the coast + of Devon, who like most of his class was dead to the subtle voices, and + blind to the mysterious aspects of the world—the man ready for the + obvious, no matter how startling, how terrible or menacing, yet + defenceless as a child before the shadowy impulses of his own heart; what + could have been the thoughts of such a man, when once surrendered to a + dreamy mood, it is difficult to say. + </p> + <p> + No doubt he, like most of us, would be uplifted at times by the awakened + lyrism of his heart into regions charming, empty, and dangerous. But also, + like most of us, he was unaware of his barren journeys above the + interesting cares of this earth. Yet from these, no doubt absurd and + wasted moments, there remained on the man's daily life a tinge as that of + a glowing and serene half-light. It softened the outlines of his rugged + nature; and these moments kept close the bond between him and his brig. + </p> + <p> + He was aware that his little vessel could give him something not to be had + from anybody or anything in the world; something specially his own. The + dependence of that solid man of bone and muscle on that obedient thing of + wood and iron, acquired from that feeling the mysterious dignity of love. + She—the craft—had all the qualities of a living thing: speed, + obedience, trustworthiness, endurance, beauty, capacity to do and to + suffer—all but life. He—the man—was the inspirer of that + thing that to him seemed the most perfect of its kind. His will was its + will, his thought was its impulse, his breath was the breath of its + existence. He felt all this confusedly, without ever shaping this feeling + into the soundless formulas of thought. To him she was unique and dear, + this brig of three hundred and fourteen tons register—a kingdom! + </p> + <p> + And now, bareheaded and burly, he walked the deck of his kingdom with a + regular stride. He stepped out from the hip, swinging his arms with the + free motion of a man starting out for a fifteen-mile walk into open + country; yet at every twelfth stride he had to turn about sharply and pace + back the distance to the taffrail. + </p> + <p> + Shaw, with his hands stuck in his waistband, had hooked himself with both + elbows to the rail, and gazed apparently at the deck between his feet. In + reality he was contemplating a little house with a tiny front garden, lost + in a maze of riverside streets in the east end of London. The circumstance + that he had not, as yet, been able to make the acquaintance of his son—now + aged eighteen months—worried him slightly, and was the cause of that + flight of his fancy into the murky atmosphere of his home. But it was a + placid flight followed by a quick return. In less than two minutes he was + back in the brig. “All there,” as his saying was. He was proud of being + always “all there.” + </p> + <p> + He was abrupt in manner and grumpy in speech with the seamen. To his + successive captains, he was outwardly as deferential as he knew how, and + as a rule inwardly hostile—so very few seemed to him of the “all + there” kind. Of Lingard, with whom he had only been a short time—having + been picked up in Madras Roads out of a home ship, which he had to leave + after a thumping row with the master—he generally approved, although + he recognized with regret that this man, like most others, had some absurd + fads; he defined them as “bottom-upwards notions.” + </p> + <p> + He was a man—as there were many—of no particular value to + anybody but himself, and of no account but as the chief mate of the brig, + and the only white man on board of her besides the captain. He felt + himself immeasurably superior to the Malay seamen whom he had to handle, + and treated them with lofty toleration, notwithstanding his opinion that + at a pinch those chaps would be found emphatically “not there.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as his mind came back from his home leave, he detached himself + from the rail and, walking forward, stood by the break of the poop, + looking along the port side of the main deck. Lingard on his own side + stopped in his walk and also gazed absentmindedly before him. In the waist + of the brig, in the narrow spars that were lashed on each side of the + hatchway, he could see a group of men squatting in a circle around a + wooden tray piled up with rice, which stood on the just swept deck. The + dark-faced, soft-eyed silent men, squatting on their hams, fed decorously + with an earnestness that did not exclude reserve. + </p> + <p> + Of the lot, only one or two wore sarongs, the others having submitted—at + least at sea—to the indignity of European trousers. Only two sat on + the spars. One, a man with a childlike, light yellow face, smiling with + fatuous imbecility under the wisps of straight coarse hair dyed a mahogany + tint, was the tindal of the crew—a kind of boatswain's or serang's + mate. The other, sitting beside him on the booms, was a man nearly black, + not much bigger than a large ape, and wearing on his wrinkled face that + look of comical truculence which is often characteristic of men from the + southwestern coast of Sumatra. + </p> + <p> + This was the kassab or store-keeper, the holder of a position of dignity + and ease. The kassab was the only one of the crew taking their evening + meal who noticed the presence on deck of their commander. He muttered + something to the tindal who directly cocked his old hat on one side, which + senseless action invested him with an altogether foolish appearance. The + others heard, but went on somnolently feeding with spidery movements of + their lean arms. + </p> + <p> + The sun was no more than a degree or so above the horizon, and from the + heated surface of the waters a slight low mist began to rise; a mist thin, + invisible to the human eye; yet strong enough to change the sun into a + mere glowing red disc, a disc vertical and hot, rolling down to the edge + of the horizontal and cold-looking disc of the shining sea. Then the edges + touched and the circular expanse of water took on suddenly a tint, sombre, + like a frown; deep, like the brooding meditation of evil. + </p> + <p> + The falling sun seemed to be arrested for a moment in his descent by the + sleeping waters, while from it, to the motionless brig, shot out on the + polished and dark surface of the sea a track of light, straight and + shining, resplendent and direct; a path of gold and crimson and purple, a + path that seemed to lead dazzling and terrible from the earth straight + into heaven through the portals of a glorious death. It faded slowly. The + sea vanquished the light. At last only a vestige of the sun remained, far + off, like a red spark floating on the water. It lingered, and all at once—without + warning—went out as if extinguished by a treacherous hand. + </p> + <p> + “Gone,” cried Lingard, who had watched intently yet missed the last + moment. “Gone! Look at the cabin clock, Shaw!” + </p> + <p> + “Nearly right, I think, sir. Three minutes past six.” + </p> + <p> + The helmsman struck four bells sharply. Another barefooted seacannie + glided on the far side of the poop to relieve the wheel, and the serang of + the brig came up the ladder to take charge of the deck from Shaw. He came + up to the compass, and stood waiting silently. + </p> + <p> + “The course is south by east when you get the wind, serang,” said Shaw, + distinctly. + </p> + <p> + “Sou' by eas',” repeated the elderly Malay with grave earnestness. + </p> + <p> + “Let me know when she begins to steer,” added Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Ya, Tuan,” answered the man, glancing rapidly at the sky. “Wind coming,” + he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “I think so, too,” whispered Lingard as if to himself. + </p> + <p> + The shadows were gathering rapidly round the brig. A mulatto put his head + out of the companion and called out: + </p> + <p> + “Ready, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's get a mouthful of something to eat, Shaw,” said Lingard. “I say, + just take a look around before coming below. It will be dark when we come + up again.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” said Shaw, taking up a long glass and putting it to his + eyes. “Blessed thing,” he went on in snatches while he worked the tubes in + and out, “I can't—never somehow—Ah! I've got it right at + last!” + </p> + <p> + He revolved slowly on his heels, keeping the end of the tube on the + sky-line. Then he shut the instrument with a click, and said decisively: + </p> + <p> + “Nothing in sight, sir.” + </p> + <p> + He followed his captain down below rubbing his hands cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + For a good while there was no sound on the poop of the brig. Then the + seacannie at the wheel spoke dreamily: + </p> + <p> + “Did the malim say there was no one on the sea?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” grunted the serang without looking at the man behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Between the islands there was a boat,” pronounced the man very softly. + </p> + <p> + The serang, his hands behind his back, his feet slightly apart, stood very + straight and stiff by the side of the compass stand. His face, now hardly + visible, was as inexpressive as the door of a safe. + </p> + <p> + “Now, listen to me,” insisted the helmsman in a gentle tone. + </p> + <p> + The man in authority did not budge a hair's breadth. The seacannie bent + down a little from the height of the wheel grating. + </p> + <p> + “I saw a boat,” he murmured with something of the tender obstinacy of a + lover begging for a favour. “I saw a boat, O Haji Wasub! Ya! Haji Wasub!” + </p> + <p> + The serang had been twice a pilgrim, and was not insensible to the sound + of his rightful title. There was a grim smile on his face. + </p> + <p> + “You saw a floating tree, O Sali,” he said, ironically. + </p> + <p> + “I am Sali, and my eyes are better than the bewitched brass thing that + pulls out to a great length,” said the pertinacious helmsman. “There was a + boat, just clear of the easternmost island. There was a boat, and they in + her could see the ship on the light of the west—unless they are + blind men lost on the sea. I have seen her. Have you seen her, too, O Haji + Wasub?” + </p> + <p> + “Am I a fat white man?” snapped the serang. “I was a man of the sea before + you were born, O Sali! The order is to keep silence and mind the rudder, + lest evil befall the ship.” + </p> + <p> + After these words he resumed his rigid aloofness. He stood, his legs + slightly apart, very stiff and straight, a little on one side of the + compass stand. His eyes travelled incessantly from the illuminated card to + the shadowy sails of the brig and back again, while his body was + motionless as if made of wood and built into the ship's frame. Thus, with + a forced and tense watchfulness, Haji Wasub, serang of the brig Lightning, + kept the captain's watch unwearied and wakeful, a slave to duty. + </p> + <p> + In half an hour after sunset the darkness had taken complete possession of + earth and heavens. The islands had melted into the night. And on the + smooth water of the Straits, the little brig lying so still, seemed to + sleep profoundly, wrapped up in a scented mantle of star light and + silence. + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + It was half-past eight o'clock before Lingard came on deck again. Shaw—now + with a coat on—trotted up and down the poop leaving behind him a + smell of tobacco smoke. An irregularly glowing spark seemed to run by + itself in the darkness before the rounded form of his head. Above the + masts of the brig the dome of the clear heaven was full of lights that + flickered, as if some mighty breathings high up there had been swaying + about the flame of the stars. There was no sound along the brig's decks, + and the heavy shadows that lay on it had the aspect, in that silence, of + secret places concealing crouching forms that waited in perfect stillness + for some decisive event. Lingard struck a match to light his cheroot, and + his powerful face with narrowed eyes stood out for a moment in the night + and vanished suddenly. Then two shadowy forms and two red sparks moved + backward and forward on the poop. A larger, but a paler and oval patch of + light from the compass lamps lay on the brasses of the wheel and on the + breast of the Malay standing by the helm. Lingard's voice, as if unable + altogether to master the enormous silence of the sea, sounded muffled, + very calm—without the usual deep ring in it. + </p> + <p> + “Not much change, Shaw,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, not much. I can just see the island—the big one—still + in the same place. It strikes me, sir, that, for calms, this here sea is a + devil of locality.” + </p> + <p> + He cut “locality” in two with an emphatic pause. It was a good word. He + was pleased with himself for thinking of it. He went on again: + </p> + <p> + “Now—since noon, this big island—” + </p> + <p> + “Carimata, Shaw,” interrupted Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, sir; Carimata—I mean. I must say—being a stranger + hereabouts—I haven't got the run of those—” + </p> + <p> + He was going to say “names” but checked himself and said, “appellations,” + instead, sounding every syllable lovingly. + </p> + <p> + “Having for these last fifteen years,” he continued, “sailed regularly + from London in East-Indiamen, I am more at home over there—in the + Bay.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed into the night toward the northwest and stared as if he could + see from where he stood that Bay of Bengal where—as he affirmed—he + would be so much more at home. + </p> + <p> + “You'll soon get used—” muttered Lingard, swinging in his rapid walk + past his mate. Then he turned round, came back, and asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “You said there was nothing afloat in sight before dark? Hey?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I could see, sir. When I took the deck again at eight, I asked + that serang whether there was anything about; and I understood him to say + there was no more as when I went below at six. This is a lonely sea at + times—ain't it, sir? Now, one would think at this time of the year + the homeward-bounders from China would be pretty thick here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lingard, “we have met very few ships since we left Pedra + Branca over the stern. Yes; it has been a lonely sea. But for all that, + Shaw, this sea, if lonely, is not blind. Every island in it is an eye. And + now, since our squadron has left for the China waters—” + </p> + <p> + He did not finish his sentence. Shaw put his hands in his pockets, and + propped his back against the sky-light, comfortably. + </p> + <p> + “They say there is going to be a war with China,” he said in a gossiping + tone, “and the French are going along with us as they did in the Crimea + five years ago. It seems to me we're getting mighty good friends with the + French. I've not much of an opinion about that. What do you think, Captain + Lingard?” + </p> + <p> + “I have met their men-of-war in the Pacific,” said Lingard, slowly. “The + ships were fine and the fellows in them were civil enough to me—and + very curious about my business,” he added with a laugh. “However, I wasn't + there to make war on them. I had a rotten old cutter then, for trade, + Shaw,” he went on with animation. + </p> + <p> + “Had you, sir?” said Shaw without any enthusiasm. “Now give me a big ship—a + ship, I say, that one may—” + </p> + <p> + “And later on, some years ago,” interrupted Lingard, “I chummed with a + French skipper in Ampanam—being the only two white men in the whole + place. He was a good fellow, and free with his red wine. His English was + difficult to understand, but he could sing songs in his own language about + ah-moor—Ah-moor means love, in French—Shaw.” + </p> + <p> + “So it does, sir—so it does. When I was second mate of a Sunderland + barque, in forty-one, in the Mediterranean, I could pay out their lingo as + easy as you would a five-inch warp over a ship's side—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he was a proper man,” pursued Lingard, meditatively, as if for + himself only. “You could not find a better fellow for company ashore. He + had an affair with a Bali girl, who one evening threw a red blossom at him + from within a doorway, as we were going together to pay our respects to + the Rajah's nephew. He was a good-looking Frenchman, he was—but the + girl belonged to the Rajah's nephew, and it was a serious matter. The old + Rajah got angry and said the girl must die. I don't think the nephew cared + particularly to have her krissed; but the old fellow made a great fuss and + sent one of his own chief men to see the thing done—and the girl had + enemies—her own relations approved! We could do nothing. Mind, Shaw, + there was absolutely nothing else between them but that unlucky flower + which the Frenchman pinned to his coat—and afterward, when the girl + was dead, wore under his shirt, hung round his neck in a small box. I + suppose he had nothing else to put it into.” + </p> + <p> + “Would those savages kill a woman for that?” asked Shaw, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “Aye! They are pretty moral there. That was the first time in my life I + nearly went to war on my own account, Shaw. We couldn't talk those fellows + over. We couldn't bribe them, though the Frenchman offered the best he + had, and I was ready to back him to the last dollar, to the last rag of + cotton, Shaw! No use—they were that blamed respectable. So, says the + Frenchman to me: 'My friend, if they won't take our gunpowder for a gift + let us burn it to give them lead.' I was armed as you see now; six + eight-pounders on the main deck and a long eighteen on the forecastle—and + I wanted to try 'em. You may believe me! However, the Frenchman had + nothing but a few old muskets; and the beggars got to windward of us by + fair words, till one morning a boat's crew from the Frenchman's ship found + the girl lying dead on the beach. That put an end to our plans. She was + out of her trouble anyhow, and no reasonable man will fight for a dead + woman. I was never vengeful, Shaw, and—after all—she didn't + throw that flower at me. But it broke the Frenchman up altogether. He + began to mope, did no business, and shortly afterward sailed away. I + cleared a good many pence out of that trip, I remember.” + </p> + <p> + With these words he seemed to come to the end of his memories of that + trip. Shaw stifled a yawn. + </p> + <p> + “Women are the cause of a lot of trouble,” he said, dispassionately. “In + the Morayshire, I remember, we had once a passenger—an old gentleman—who + was telling us a yarn about them old-time Greeks fighting for ten years + about some woman. The Turks kidnapped her, or something. Anyway, they + fought in Turkey; which I may well believe. Them Greeks and Turks were + always fighting. My father was master's mate on board one of the + three-deckers at the battle of Navarino—and that was when we went to + help those Greeks. But this affair about a woman was long before that + time.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so,” muttered Lingard, hanging over the rail, and watching + the fleeting gleams that passed deep down in the water, along the ship's + bottom. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Times are changed. They were unenlightened in those old days. My + grandfather was a preacher and, though my father served in the navy, I + don't hold with war. Sinful the old gentleman called it—and I think + so, too. Unless with Chinamen, or niggers, or such people as must be kept + in order and won't listen to reason; having not sense enough to know + what's good for them, when it's explained to them by their betters—missionaries, + and such like au-tho-ri-ties. But to fight ten years. And for a woman!” + </p> + <p> + “I have read the tale in a book,” said Lingard, speaking down over the + side as if setting his words gently afloat upon the sea. “I have read the + tale. She was very beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “That only makes it worse, sir—if anything. You may depend on it she + was no good. Those pagan times will never come back, thank God. Ten years + of murder and unrighteousness! And for a woman! Would anybody do it now? + Would you do it, sir? Would you—” + </p> + <p> + The sound of a bell struck sharply interrupted Shaw's discourse. High + aloft, some dry block sent out a screech, short and lamentable, like a cry + of pain. It pierced the quietness of the night to the very core, and + seemed to destroy the reserve which it had imposed upon the tones of the + two men, who spoke now loudly. + </p> + <p> + “Throw the cover over the binnacle,” said Lingard in his duty voice. “The + thing shines like a full moon. We mustn't show more lights than we can + help, when becalmed at night so near the land. No use in being seen if you + can't see yourself—is there? Bear that in mind, Mr. Shaw. There may + be some vagabonds prying about—” + </p> + <p> + “I thought all this was over and done for,” said Shaw, busying himself + with the cover, “since Sir Thomas Cochrane swept along the Borneo coast + with his squadron some years ago. He did a rare lot of fighting—didn't + he? We heard about it from the chaps of the sloop Diana that was refitting + in Calcutta when I was there in the Warwick Castle. They took some king's + town up a river hereabouts. The chaps were full of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas did good work,” answered Lingard, “but it will be a long time + before these seas are as safe as the English Channel is in peace time. I + spoke about that light more to get you in the way of things to be attended + to in these seas than for anything else. Did you notice how few native + craft we've sighted for all these days we have been drifting about—one + may say—in this sea?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't say I have attached any significance to the fact, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a sign that something is up. Once set a rumour afloat in these + waters, and it will make its way from island to island, without any breeze + to drive it along.” + </p> + <p> + “Being myself a deep-water man sailing steadily out of home ports nearly + all my life,” said Shaw with great deliberation, “I cannot pretend to see + through the peculiarities of them out-of-the-way parts. But I can keep a + lookout in an ordinary way, and I have noticed that craft of any kind + seemed scarce, for the last few days: considering that we had land aboard + of us—one side or another—nearly every day.” + </p> + <p> + “You will get to know the peculiarities, as you call them, if you remain + any time with me,” remarked Lingard, negligently. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I shall give satisfaction, whether the time be long or short!” + said Shaw, accentuating the meaning of his words by the distinctness of + his utterance. “A man who has spent thirty-two years of his life on + saltwater can say no more. If being an officer of home ships for the last + fifteen years I don't understand the heathen ways of them there savages, + in matters of seamanship and duty, you will find me all there, Captain + Lingard.” + </p> + <p> + “Except, judging from what you said a little while ago—except in the + matter of fighting,” said Lingard, with a short laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Fighting! I am not aware that anybody wants to fight me. I am a peaceable + man, Captain Lingard, but when put to it, I could fight as well as any of + them flat-nosed chaps we have to make shift with, instead of a proper crew + of decent Christians. Fighting!” he went on with unexpected pugnacity of + tone, “Fighting! If anybody comes to fight me, he will find me all there, + I swear!” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right. That's all right,” said Lingard, stretching his arms + above his head and wriggling his shoulders. “My word! I do wish a breeze + would come to let us get away from here. I am rather in a hurry, Shaw.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, sir! Well, I never yet met a thorough seafaring man who was not + in a hurry when a con-demned spell of calm had him by the heels. When a + breeze comes . . . just listen to this, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “I hear it,” said Lingard. “Tide-rip, Shaw.” + </p> + <p> + “So I presume, sir. But what a fuss it makes. Seldom heard such a—” + </p> + <p> + On the sea, upon the furthest limits of vision, appeared an advancing + streak of seething foam, resembling a narrow white ribbon, drawn rapidly + along the level surface of the water by its two ends, which were lost in + the darkness. It reached the brig, passed under, stretching out on each + side; and on each side the water became noisy, breaking into numerous and + tiny wavelets, a mimicry of an immense agitation. Yet the vessel in the + midst of this sudden and loud disturbance remained as motionless and + steady as if she had been securely moored between the stone walls of a + safe dock. In a few moments the line of foam and ripple running swiftly + north passed at once beyond sight and earshot, leaving no trace on the + unconquerable calm. + </p> + <p> + “Now this is very curious—” began Shaw. + </p> + <p> + Lingard made a gesture to command silence. He seemed to listen yet, as if + the wash of the ripple could have had an echo which he expected to hear. + And a man's voice that was heard forward had something of the impersonal + ring of voices thrown back from hard and lofty cliffs upon the empty + distances of the sea. It spoke in Malay—faintly. + </p> + <p> + “What?” hailed Shaw. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard put a restraining hand for a moment on his chief officer's + shoulder, and moved forward smartly. Shaw followed, puzzled. The rapid + exchange of incomprehensible words thrown backward and forward through the + shadows of the brig's main deck from his captain to the lookout man and + back again, made him feel sadly out of it, somehow. + </p> + <p> + Lingard had called out sharply—“What do you see?” The answer direct + and quick was—“I hear, Tuan. I hear oars.” + </p> + <p> + “Whereabouts?” + </p> + <p> + “The night is all around us. I hear them near.” + </p> + <p> + “Port or starboard?” + </p> + <p> + There was a short delay in answer this time. On the quarter-deck, under + the poop, bare feet shuffled. Somebody coughed. At last the voice forward + said doubtfully: + </p> + <p> + “Kanan.” + </p> + <p> + “Call the serang, Mr. Shaw,” said Lingard, calmly, “and have the hands + turned up. They are all lying about the decks. Look sharp now. There's + something near us. It's annoying to be caught like this,” he added in a + vexed tone. + </p> + <p> + He crossed over to the starboard side, and stood listening, one hand + grasping the royal back-stay, his ear turned to the sea, but he could hear + nothing from there. The quarter-deck was filled with subdued sounds. + Suddenly, a long, shrill whistle soared, reverberated loudly amongst the + flat surfaces of motionless sails, and gradually grew faint as if the + sound had escaped and gone away, running upon the water. Haji Wasub was on + deck and ready to carry out the white man's commands. Then silence fell + again on the brig, until Shaw spoke quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I am going forward now, sir, with the tindal. We're all at stations.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, Mr. Shaw. Very good. Mind they don't board you—but I can hear + nothing. Not a sound. It can't be much.” + </p> + <p> + “The fellow has been dreaming, no doubt. I have good ears, too, and—” + </p> + <p> + He went forward and the end of his sentence was lost in an indistinct + growl. Lingard stood attentive. One by one the three seacannies off duty + appeared on the poop and busied themselves around a big chest that stood + by the side of the cabin companion. A rattle and clink of steel weapons + turned out on the deck was heard, but the men did not even whisper. + Lingard peered steadily into the night, then shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Serang!” he called, half aloud. + </p> + <p> + The spare old man ran up the ladder so smartly that his bony feet did not + seem to touch the steps. He stood by his commander, his hands behind his + back; a figure indistinct but straight as an arrow. + </p> + <p> + “Who was looking out?” asked Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Badroon, the Bugis,” said Wasub, in his crisp, jerky manner. + </p> + <p> + “I can hear nothing. Badroon heard the noise in his mind.” + </p> + <p> + “The night hides the boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Tuan. Small boat. Before sunset. By the land. Now coming here—near. + Badroon heard him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you report it, then?” asked Lingard, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Malim spoke. He said: 'Nothing there,' while I could see. How could I + know what was in his mind or yours, Tuan?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear anything now?” + </p> + <p> + “No. They stopped now. Perhaps lost the ship—who knows? Perhaps + afraid—” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” muttered Lingard, moving his feet uneasily. “I believe you lie. + What kind of boat?” + </p> + <p> + “White men's boat. A four-men boat, I think. Small. Tuan, I hear him now! + There!” + </p> + <p> + He stretched his arm straight out, pointing abeam for a time, then his arm + fell slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Coming this way,” he added with decision. + </p> + <p> + From forward Shaw called out in a startled tone: + </p> + <p> + “Something on the water, sir! Broad on this bow!” + </p> + <p> + “All right!” called back Lingard. + </p> + <p> + A lump of blacker darkness floated into his view. From it came over the + water English words—deliberate, reaching him one by one; as if each + had made its own difficult way through the profound stillness of the + night. + </p> + <p> + “What—ship—is—that—pray?” + </p> + <p> + “English brig,” answered Lingard, after a short moment of hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “A brig! I thought you were something bigger,” went on the voice from the + sea with a tinge of disappointment in its deliberate tone. “I am coming + alongside—if—you—please.” + </p> + <p> + “No! you don't!” called Lingard back, sharply. The leisurely drawl of the + invisible speaker seemed to him offensive, and woke up a hostile feeling. + “No! you don't if you care for your boat. Where do you spring from? Who + are you—anyhow? How many of you are there in that boat?” + </p> + <p> + After these emphatic questions there was an interval of silence. During + that time the shape of the boat became a little more distinct. She must + have carried some way on her yet, for she loomed up bigger and nearly + abreast of where Lingard stood, before the self-possessed voice was heard + again: + </p> + <p> + “I will show you.” + </p> + <p> + Then, after another short pause, the voice said, less loud but very plain: + </p> + <p> + “Strike on the gunwale. Strike hard, John!” and suddenly a blue light + blazed out, illuminating with a livid flame a round patch in the night. In + the smoke and splutter of that ghastly halo appeared a white, four-oared + gig with five men sitting in her in a row. Their heads were turned toward + the brig with a strong expression of curiosity on their faces, which, in + this glare, brilliant and sinister, took on a deathlike aspect and + resembled the faces of interested corpses. Then the bowman dropped into + the water the light he held above his head and the darkness, rushing back + at the boat, swallowed it with a loud and angry hiss. + </p> + <p> + “Five of us,” said the composed voice out of the night that seemed now + darker than before. “Four hands and myself. We belong to a yacht—a + British yacht—” + </p> + <p> + “Come on board!” shouted Lingard. “Why didn't you speak at once? I thought + you might have been some masquerading Dutchmen from a dodging gunboat.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I speak like a blamed Dutchman? Pull a stroke, boys—oars! Tend + bow, John.” + </p> + <p> + The boat came alongside with a gentle knock, and a man's shape began to + climb at once up the brig's side with a kind of ponderous agility. It + poised itself for a moment on the rail to say down into the boat—“Sheer + off a little, boys,” then jumped on deck with a thud, and said to Shaw who + was coming aft: “Good evening . . . Captain, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No. On the poop!” growled Shaw. + </p> + <p> + “Come up here. Come up,” called Lingard, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + The Malays had left their stations and stood clustered by the mainmast in + a silent group. Not a word was spoken on the brig's decks, while the + stranger made his way to the waiting captain. Lingard saw approaching him + a short, dapper man, who touched his cap and repeated his greeting in a + cool drawl: + </p> + <p> + “Good evening. . . Captain, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am the master—what's the matter? Adrift from your ship? Or + what?” + </p> + <p> + “Adrift? No! We left her four days ago, and have been pulling that gig in + a calm, nearly ever since. My men are done. So is the water. Lucky thing I + sighted you.” + </p> + <p> + “You sighted me!” exclaimed Lingard. “When? What time?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the dark, you may be sure. We've been knocking about amongst some + islands to the southward, breaking our hearts tugging at the oars in one + channel, then in another—trying to get clear. We got round an islet—a + barren thing, in shape like a loaf of sugar—and I caught sight of a + vessel a long way off. I took her bearing in a hurry and we buckled to; + but another of them currents must have had hold of us, for it was a long + time before we managed to clear that islet. I steered by the stars, and, + by the Lord Harry, I began to think I had missed you somehow—because + it must have been you I saw.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it must have been. We had nothing in sight all day,” assented + Lingard. “Where's your vessel?” he asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Hard and fast on middling soft mud—I should think about sixty miles + from here. We are the second boat sent off for assistance. We parted + company with the other on Tuesday. She must have passed to the northward + of you to-day. The chief officer is in her with orders to make for + Singapore. I am second, and was sent off toward the Straits here on the + chance of falling in with some ship. I have a letter from the owner. Our + gentry are tired of being stuck in the mud and wish for assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “What assistance did you expect to find down here?” + </p> + <p> + “The letter will tell you that. May I ask, Captain, for a little water for + the chaps in my boat? And I myself would thank you for a drink. We haven't + had a mouthful since this afternoon. Our breaker leaked out somehow.” + </p> + <p> + “See to it, Mr. Shaw,” said Lingard. “Come down the cabin, Mr.—” + </p> + <p> + “Carter is my name.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Mr. Carter. Come down, come down,” went on Lingard, leading the way + down the cabin stairs. + </p> + <p> + The steward had lighted the swinging lamp, and had put a decanter and + bottles on the table. The cuddy looked cheerful, painted white, with gold + mouldings round the panels. Opposite the curtained recess of the stern + windows there was a sideboard with a marble top, and, above it, a + looking-glass in a gilt frame. The semicircular couch round the stern had + cushions of crimson plush. The table was covered with a black Indian + tablecloth embroidered in vivid colours. Between the beams of the + poop-deck were fitted racks for muskets, the barrels of which glinted in + the light. There were twenty-four of them between the four beams. As many + sword-bayonets of an old pattern encircled the polished teakwood of the + rudder-casing with a double belt of brass and steel. All the doors of the + state-rooms had been taken off the hinges and only curtains closed the + doorways. They seemed to be made of yellow Chinese silk, and fluttered all + together, the four of them, as the two men entered the cuddy. + </p> + <p> + Carter took in all at a glance, but his eyes were arrested by a circular + shield hung slanting above the brass hilts of the bayonets. On its red + field, in relief and brightly gilt, was represented a sheaf of + conventional thunderbolts darting down the middle between the two capitals + T. L. Lingard examined his guest curiously. He saw a young man, but + looking still more youthful, with a boyish smooth face much sunburnt, + twinkling blue eyes, fair hair and a slight moustache. He noticed his + arrested gaze. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you're looking at that thing. It's a present from the builder of this + brig. The best man that ever launched a craft. It's supposed to be the + ship's name between my initials—flash of lightning—d'you see? + The brig's name is Lightning and mine is Lingard.” + </p> + <p> + “Very pretty thing that: shows the cabin off well,” murmured Carter, + politely. + </p> + <p> + They drank, nodding at each other, and sat down. + </p> + <p> + “Now for the letter,” said Lingard. + </p> + <p> + Carter passed it over the table and looked about, while Lingard took the + letter out of an open envelope, addressed to the commander of any British + ship in the Java Sea. The paper was thick, had an embossed heading: + “Schooner-yacht Hermit” and was dated four days before. The message said + that on a hazy night the yacht had gone ashore upon some outlying shoals + off the coast of Borneo. The land was low. The opinion of the + sailing-master was that the vessel had gone ashore at the top of high + water, spring tides. The coast was completely deserted to all appearance. + During the four days they had been stranded there they had sighted in the + distance two small native vessels, which did not approach. The owner + concluded by asking any commander of a homeward-bound ship to report the + yacht's position in Anjer on his way through Sunda Straits—or to any + British or Dutch man-of-war he might meet. The letter ended by + anticipatory thanks, the offer to pay any expenses in connection with the + sending of messages from Anjer, and the usual polite expressions. + </p> + <p> + Folding the paper slowly in the old creases, Lingard said—“I am not + going to Anjer—nor anywhere near.” + </p> + <p> + “Any place will do, I fancy,” said Carter. + </p> + <p> + “Not the place where I am bound to,” answered Lingard, opening the letter + again and glancing at it uneasily. “He does not describe very well the + coast, and his latitude is very uncertain,” he went on. “I am not clear in + my mind where exactly you are stranded. And yet I know every inch of that + land—over there.” + </p> + <p> + Carter cleared his throat and began to talk in his slow drawl. He seemed + to dole out facts, to disclose with sparing words the features of the + coast, but every word showed the minuteness of his observation, the clear + vision of a seaman able to master quickly the aspect of a strange land and + of a strange sea. He presented, with concise lucidity, the picture of the + tangle of reefs and sandbanks, through which the yacht had miraculously + blundered in the dark before she took the ground. + </p> + <p> + “The weather seems clear enough at sea,” he observed, finally, and stopped + to drink a long draught. Lingard, bending over the table, had been + listening with eager attention. Carter went on in his curt and deliberate + manner: + </p> + <p> + “I noticed some high trees on what I take to be the mainland to the south—and + whoever has business in that bight was smart enough to whitewash two of + them: one on the point, and another farther in. Landmarks, I guess. . . . + What's the matter, Captain?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard had jumped to his feet, but Carter's exclamation caused him to sit + down again. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, nothing . . . Tell me, how many men have you in that yacht?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-three, besides the gentry, the owner, his wife and a Spanish + gentleman—a friend they picked up in Manila.” + </p> + <p> + “So you were coming from Manila?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye. Bound for Batavia. The owner wishes to study the Dutch colonial + system. Wants to expose it, he says. One can't help hearing a lot when + keeping watch aft—you know how it is. Then we are going to Ceylon to + meet the mail-boat there. The owner is going home as he came out, overland + through Egypt. The yacht would return round the Cape, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “A lady?” said Lingard. “You say there is a lady on board. Are you armed?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much,” replied Carter, negligently. “There are a few muskets and two + sporting guns aft; that's about all—I fancy it's too much, or not + enough,” he added with a faint smile. + </p> + <p> + Lingard looked at him narrowly. + </p> + <p> + “Did you come out from home in that craft?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not I! I am not one of them regular yacht hands. I came out of the + hospital in Hongkong. I've been two years on the China coast.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, then added in an explanatory murmur: + </p> + <p> + “Opium clippers—you know. Nothing of brass buttons about me. My ship + left me behind, and I was in want of work. I took this job but I didn't + want to go home particularly. It's slow work after sailing with old + Robinson in the Ly-e-moon. That was my ship. Heard of her, Captain?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said Lingard, hastily. “Look here, Mr. Carter, which way was + your chief officer trying for Singapore? Through the Straits of Rhio?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” answered Carter in a slightly surprised tone; “why do you + ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Just to know . . . What is it, Mr. Shaw?” + </p> + <p> + “There's a black cloud rising to the northward, sir, and we shall get a + breeze directly,” said Shaw from the doorway. + </p> + <p> + He lingered there with his eyes fixed on the decanters. + </p> + <p> + “Will you have a glass?” said Lingard, leaving his seat. “I will go up and + have a look.” + </p> + <p> + He went on deck. Shaw approached the table and began to help himself, + handling the bottles in profound silence and with exaggerated caution, as + if he had been measuring out of fragile vessels a dose of some deadly + poison. Carter, his hands in his pockets, and leaning back, examined him + from head to foot with a cool stare. The mate of the brig raised the glass + to his lips, and glaring above the rim at the stranger, drained the + contents slowly. + </p> + <p> + “You have a fine nose for finding ships in the dark, Mister,” he said, + distinctly, putting the glass on the table with extreme gentleness. + </p> + <p> + “Eh? What's that? I sighted you just after sunset.” + </p> + <p> + “And you knew where to look, too,” said Shaw, staring hard. + </p> + <p> + “I looked to the westward where there was still some light, as any + sensible man would do,” retorted the other a little impatiently. “What are + you trying to get at?” + </p> + <p> + “And you have a ready tongue to blow about yourself—haven't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Never saw such a man in my life,” declared Carter, with a return of his + nonchalant manner. “You seem to be troubled about something.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like boats to come sneaking up from nowhere in particular, + alongside a ship when I am in charge of the deck. I can keep a lookout as + well as any man out of home ports, but I hate to be circumvented by + muffled oars and such ungentlemanlike tricks. Yacht officer—indeed. + These seas must be full of such yachtsmen. I consider you played a mean + trick on me. I told my old man there was nothing in sight at sunset—and + no more there was. I believe you blundered upon us by chance—for all + your boasting about sunsets and bearings. Gammon! I know you came on + blindly on top of us, and with muffled oars, too. D'ye call that decent?” + </p> + <p> + “If I did muffle the oars it was for a good reason. I wanted to slip past + a cove where some native craft were moored. That was common prudence in + such a small boat, and not armed—as I am. I saw you right enough, + but I had no intention to startle anybody. Take my word for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you had gone somewhere else,” growled Shaw. “I hate to be put in + the wrong through accident and untruthfulness—there! Here's my old + man calling me—” + </p> + <p> + He left the cabin hurriedly and soon afterward Lingard came down, and sat + again facing Carter across the table. His face was grave but resolute. + </p> + <p> + “We shall get the breeze directly,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir,” said Carter, getting up, “if you will give me back that + letter I shall go on cruising about here to speak some other ship. I trust + you will report us wherever you are going.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to the yacht and I shall keep the letter,” answered Lingard + with decision. “I know exactly where she is, and I must go to the rescue + of those people. It's most fortunate you've fallen in with me, Mr. Carter. + Fortunate for them and fortunate for me,” he added in a lower tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” drawled Carter, reflectively. “There may be a tidy bit of salvage + money if you should get the vessel off, but I don't think you can do much. + I had better stay out here and try to speak some gunboat—” + </p> + <p> + “You must come back to your ship with me,” said Lingard, authoritatively. + “Never mind the gunboats.” + </p> + <p> + “That wouldn't be carrying out my orders,” argued Carter. “I've got to + speak a homeward-bound ship or a man-of-war—that's plain enough. I + am not anxious to knock about for days in an open boat, but—let me + fill my fresh-water breaker, Captain, and I will be off.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” said Lingard, sharply. “You've got to come with me to show the + place and—and help. I'll take your boat in tow.” + </p> + <p> + Carter did not seem convinced. Lingard laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, young fellow. I am Tom Lingard and there's not a white man + among these islands, and very few natives, that have not heard of me. My + luck brought you into my ship—and now I've got you, you must stay. + You must!” + </p> + <p> + The last “must” burst out loud and sharp like a pistol-shot. Carter + stepped back. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean you would keep me by force?” he asked, startled. + </p> + <p> + “Force,” repeated Lingard. “It rests with you. I cannot let you speak any + vessel. Your yacht has gone ashore in a most inconvenient place—for + me; and with your boats sent off here and there, you would bring every + infernal gunboat buzzing to a spot that was as quiet and retired as the + heart of man could wish. You stranding just on that spot of the whole + coast was my bad luck. And that I could not help. You coming upon me like + this is my good luck. And that I hold!” + </p> + <p> + He dropped his clenched fist, big and muscular, in the light of the lamp + on the black cloth, amongst the glitter of glasses, with the strong + fingers closed tight upon the firm flesh of the palm. He left it there for + a moment as if showing Carter that luck he was going to hold. And he went + on: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know into what hornet's nest your stupid people have blundered? + How much d'ye think their lives are worth, just now? Not a brass farthing + if the breeze fails me for another twenty-four hours. You may well open + your eyes. It is so! And it may be too late now, while I am arguing with + you here.” + </p> + <p> + He tapped the table with his knuckles, and the glasses, waking up, jingled + a thin, plaintive finale to his speech. Carter stood leaning against the + sideboard. He was amazed by the unexpected turn of the conversation; his + jaw dropped slightly and his eyes never swerved for a moment from + Lingard's face. The silence in the cabin lasted only a few seconds, but to + Carter, who waited breathlessly, it seemed very long. And all at once he + heard in it, for the first time, the cabin clock tick distinctly, in + pulsating beats, as though a little heart of metal behind the dial had + been started into sudden palpitation. + </p> + <p> + “A gunboat!” shouted Lingard, suddenly, as if he had seen only in that + moment, by the light of some vivid flash of thought, all the difficulties + of the situation. “If you don't go back with me there will be nothing left + for you to go back to—very soon. Your gunboat won't find a single + ship's rib or a single corpse left for a landmark. That she won't. It + isn't a gunboat skipper you want. I am the man you want. You don't know + your luck when you see it, but I know mine, I do—and—look here—” + </p> + <p> + He touched Carter's chest with his forefinger, and said with a sudden + gentleness of tone: + </p> + <p> + “I am a white man inside and out; I won't let inoffensive people—and + a woman, too—come to harm if I can help it. And if I can't help, + nobody can. You understand—nobody! There's no time for it. But I am + like any other man that is worth his salt: I won't let the end of an + undertaking go by the board while there is a chance to hold on—and + it's like this—” + </p> + <p> + His voice was persuasive—almost caressing; he had hold now of a coat + button and tugged at it slightly as he went on in a confidential manner: + </p> + <p> + “As it turns out, Mr. Carter, I would—in a manner of speaking—I + would as soon shoot you where you stand as let you go to raise an alarm + all over this sea about your confounded yacht. I have other lives to + consider—and friends—and promises—and—and myself, + too. I shall keep you,” he concluded, sharply. + </p> + <p> + Carter drew a long breath. On the deck above, the two men could hear soft + footfalls, short murmurs, indistinct words spoken near the skylight. + Shaw's voice rang out loudly in growling tones: + </p> + <p> + “Furl the royals, you tindal!” + </p> + <p> + “It's the queerest old go,” muttered Carter, looking down on to the floor. + “You are a strange man. I suppose I must believe what you say—unless + you and that fat mate of yours are a couple of escaped lunatics that got + hold of a brig by some means. Why, that chap up there wanted to pick a + quarrel with me for coming aboard, and now you threaten to shoot me rather + than let me go. Not that I care much about that; for some time or other + you would get hanged for it; and you don't look like a man that will end + that way. If what you say is only half true, I ought to get back to the + yacht as quick as ever I can. It strikes me that your coming to them will + be only a small mercy, anyhow—and I may be of some use—But + this is the queerest. . . . May I go in my boat?” + </p> + <p> + “As you like,” said Lingard. “There's a rain squall coming.” + </p> + <p> + “I am in charge and will get wet along of my chaps. Give us a good long + line, Captain.” + </p> + <p> + “It's done already,” said Lingard. “You seem a sensible sailorman and can + see that it would be useless to try and give me the slip.” + </p> + <p> + “For a man so ready to shoot, you seem very trustful,” drawled Carter. “If + I cut adrift in a squall, I stand a pretty fair chance not to see you + again.” + </p> + <p> + “You just try,” said Lingard, drily. “I have eyes in this brig, young man, + that will see your boat when you couldn't see the ship. You are of the + kind I like, but if you monkey with me I will find you—and when I + find you I will run you down as surely as I stand here.” + </p> + <p> + Carter slapped his thigh and his eyes twinkled. + </p> + <p> + “By the Lord Harry!” he cried. “If it wasn't for the men with me, I would + try for sport. You are so cocksure about the lot you can do, Captain. You + would aggravate a saint into open mutiny.” + </p> + <p> + His easy good humour had returned; but after a short burst of laughter, he + became serious. + </p> + <p> + “Never fear,” he said, “I won't slip away. If there is to be any + throat-cutting—as you seem to hint—mine will be there, too, I + promise you, and. . . .” + </p> + <p> + He stretched his arms out, glanced at them, shook them a little. + </p> + <p> + “And this pair of arms to take care of it,” he added, in his old, careless + drawl. + </p> + <p> + But the master of the brig sitting with both his elbows on the table, his + face in his hands, had fallen unexpectedly into a meditation so + concentrated and so profound that he seemed neither to hear, see, nor + breathe. The sight of that man's complete absorption in thought was to + Carter almost more surprising than any other occurrence of that night. Had + his strange host vanished suddenly from before his eyes, it could not have + made him feel more uncomfortably alone in that cabin where the + pertinacious clock kept ticking off the useless minutes of the calm before + it would, with the same steady beat, begin to measure the aimless + disturbance of the storm. + </p> + <p> + III + </p> + <p> + After waiting a moment, Carter went on deck. The sky, the sea, the brig + itself had disappeared in a darkness that had become impenetrable, + palpable, and stifling. An immense cloud had come up running over the + heavens, as if looking for the little craft, and now hung over it, + arrested. To the south there was a livid trembling gleam, faint and sad, + like a vanishing memory of destroyed starlight. To the north, as if to + prove the impossible, an incredibly blacker patch outlined on the + tremendous blackness of the sky the heart of the coming squall. The + glimmers in the water had gone out and the invisible sea all around lay + mute and still as if it had died suddenly of fright. + </p> + <p> + Carter could see nothing. He felt about him people moving; he heard them + in the darkness whispering faintly as if they had been exchanging secrets + important or infamous. The night effaced even words, and its mystery had + captured everything and every sound—had left nothing free but the + unexpected that seemed to hover about one, ready to stretch out its + stealthy hand in a touch sudden, familiar, and appalling. Even the + careless disposition of the young ex-officer of an opium-clipper was + affected by the ominous aspect of the hour. What was this vessel? What + were those people? What would happen to-morrow? To the yacht? To himself? + He felt suddenly without any additional reason but the darkness that it + was a poor show, anyhow, a dashed poor show for all hands. The irrational + conviction made him falter for a second where he stood and he gripped the + slide of the companionway hard. + </p> + <p> + Shaw's voice right close to his ear relieved and cleared his troubled + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it's you, Mister. Come up at last,” said the mate of the brig slowly. + “It appears we've got to give you a tow now. Of all the rum incidents, + this beats all. A boat sneaks up from nowhere and turns out to be a + long-expected friend! For you are one of them friends the skipper was + going to meet somewhere here. Ain't you now? Come! I know more than you + may think. Are we off to—you may just as well tell—off to—h'm + ha . . . you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I know. Don't you?” articulated Carter, innocently. + </p> + <p> + Shaw remained very quiet for a minute. + </p> + <p> + “Where's my skipper?” he asked at last. + </p> + <p> + “I left him down below in a kind of trance. Where's my boat?” + </p> + <p> + “Your boat is hanging astern. And my opinion is that you are as uncivil as + I've proved you to be untruthful. Egzz-actly.” + </p> + <p> + Carter stumbled toward the taffrail and in the first step he made came + full against somebody who glided away. It seemed to him that such a night + brings men to a lower level. He thought that he might have been knocked on + the head by anybody strong enough to lift a crow-bar. He felt strangely + irritated. He said loudly, aiming his words at Shaw whom he supposed + somewhere near: + </p> + <p> + “And my opinion is that you and your skipper will come to a sudden bad end + before—” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were in your boat. Have you changed your mind?” asked + Lingard in his deep voice close to Carter's elbow. + </p> + <p> + Carter felt his way along the rail, till his hand found a line that + seemed, in the calm, to stream out of its own accord into the darkness. He + hailed his boat, and directly heard the wash of water against her bows as + she was hauled quickly under the counter. Then he loomed up shapeless on + the rail, and the next moment disappeared as if he had fallen out of the + universe. Lingard heard him say: + </p> + <p> + “Catch hold of my leg, John.” There were hollow sounds in the boat; a + voice growled, “All right.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep clear of the counter,” said Lingard, speaking in quiet warning tones + into the night. “The brig may get a lot of sternway on her should this + squall not strike her fairly.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye. I will mind,” was the muttered answer from the water. + </p> + <p> + Lingard crossed over to the port side, and looked steadily at the sooty + mass of approaching vapours. After a moment he said curtly, “Brace up for + the port tack, Mr. Shaw,” and remained silent, with his face to the sea. A + sound, sorrowful and startling like the sigh of some immense creature, + travelling across the starless space, passed above the vertical and lofty + spars of the motionless brig. + </p> + <p> + It grew louder, then suddenly ceased for a moment, and the taut rigging of + the brig was heard vibrating its answer in a singing note to this + threatening murmur of the winds. A long and slow undulation lifted the + level of the waters, as if the sea had drawn a deep breath of anxious + suspense. The next minute an immense disturbance leaped out of the + darkness upon the sea, kindling upon it a livid clearness of foam, and the + first gust of the squall boarded the brig in a stinging flick of rain and + spray. As if overwhelmed by the suddenness of the fierce onset, the vessel + remained for a second upright where she floated, shaking with tremendous + jerks from trucks to keel; while high up in the night the invisible canvas + was heard rattling and beating about violently. + </p> + <p> + Then, with a quick double report, as of heavy guns, both topsails filled + at once and the brig fell over swiftly on her side. Shaw was thrown + headlong against the skylight, and Lingard, who had encircled the weather + rail with his arm, felt the vessel under his feet dart forward smoothly, + and the deck become less slanting—the speed of the brig running off + a little now, easing the overturning strain of the wind upon the distended + surfaces of the sails. It was only the fineness of the little vessel's + lines and the perfect shape of her hull that saved the canvas, and perhaps + the spars, by enabling the ready craft to get way upon herself with such + lightning-like rapidity. Lingard drew a long breath and yelled jubilantly + at Shaw who was struggling up against wind and rain to his commander's + side. + </p> + <p> + “She'll do. Hold on everything.” + </p> + <p> + Shaw tried to speak. He swallowed great mouthfuls of tepid water which the + wind drove down his throat. The brig seemed to sail through undulating + waves that passed swishing between the masts and swept over the decks with + the fierce rush and noise of a cataract. From every spar and every rope a + ragged sheet of water streamed flicking to leeward. The overpowering + deluge seemed to last for an age; became unbearable—and, all at + once, stopped. In a couple of minutes the shower had run its length over + the brig and now could be seen like a straight grey wall, going away into + the night under the fierce whispering of dissolving clouds. The wind + eased. To the northward, low down in the darkness, three stars appeared in + a row, leaping in and out between the crests of waves like the distant + heads of swimmers in a running surf; and the retreating edge of the cloud, + perfectly straight from east to west, slipped along the dome of the sky + like an immense hemispheric, iron shutter pivoting down smoothly as if + operated by some mighty engine. An inspiring and penetrating freshness + flowed together with the shimmer of light, through the augmented glory of + the heaven, a glory exalted, undimmed, and strangely startling as if a new + world had been created during the short flight of the stormy cloud. It was + a return to life, a return to space; the earth coming out from under a + pall to take its place in the renewed and immense scintillation of the + universe. + </p> + <p> + The brig, her yards slightly checked in, ran with an easy motion under the + topsails, jib and driver, pushing contemptuously aside the turbulent crowd + of noisy and agitated waves. As the craft went swiftly ahead she unrolled + behind her over the uneasy darkness of the sea a broad ribbon of seething + foam shot with wispy gleams of dark discs escaping from under the rudder. + Far away astern, at the end of a line no thicker than a black thread, + which dipped now and then its long curve in the bursting froth, a toy-like + object could be made out, elongated and dark, racing after the brig over + the snowy whiteness of her wake. + </p> + <p> + Lingard walked aft, and, with both his hands on the taffrail, looked + eagerly for Carter's boat. The first glance satisfied him that the yacht's + gig was towing easily at the end of the long scope of line, and he turned + away to look ahead and to leeward with a steady gaze. It was then half an + hour past midnight and Shaw, relieved by Wasub, had gone below. Before he + went, he said to Lingard, “I will be off, sir, if you're not going to make + more sail yet.” “Not yet for a while,” had answered Lingard in a + preoccupied manner; and Shaw departed aggrieved at such a neglect of + making the best of a good breeze. + </p> + <p> + On the main deck dark-skinned men, whose clothing clung to their shivering + limbs as if they had been overboard, had finished recoiling the braces, + and clearing the gear. The kassab, after having hung the fore-topsail + halyards in the becket, strutted into the waist toward a row of men who + stood idly with their shoulders against the side of the long boat + amidships. He passed along looking up close at the stolid faces. Room was + made for him, and he took his place at the end. + </p> + <p> + “It was a great rain and a mighty wind, O men,” he said, dogmatically, + “but no wind can ever hurt this ship. That I knew while I stood minding + the sail which is under my care.” + </p> + <p> + A dull and inexpressive murmur was heard from the men. Over the high + weather rail, a topping wave flung into their eyes a handful of heavy + drops that stung like hail. There were low groans of indignation. A man + sighed. Another emitted a spasmodic laugh through his chattering teeth. No + one moved away. The little kassab wiped his face and went on in his + cracked voice, to the accompaniment of the swishing sounds made by the + seas that swept regularly astern along the ship's side. + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard him shout at the wind—louder than the wind? I have + heard, being far forward. And before, too, in the many years I served this + white man I have heard him often cry magic words that make all safe. + Ya-wa! This is truth. Ask Wasub who is a Haji, even as I am.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen white men's ships with their masts broken—also wrecked + like our own praus,” remarked sadly a lean, lank fellow who shivered + beside the kassab, hanging his head and trying to grasp his shoulder + blades. + </p> + <p> + “True,” admitted the kassab. “They are all the children of Satan but to + some more favour is shown. To obey such men on the sea or in a fight is + good. I saw him who is master here fight with wild men who eat their + enemies—far away to the eastward—and I dealt blows by his side + without fear; for the charms he, no doubt, possesses protect his servants + also. I am a believer and the Stoned One can not touch my forehead. Yet + the reward of victory comes from the accursed. For six years have I sailed + with that white man; first as one who minds the rudder, for I am a man of + the sea, born in a prau, and am skilled in such work. And now, because of + my great knowledge of his desires, I have the care of all things in this + ship.” + </p> + <p> + Several voices muttered, “True. True.” They remained apathetic and + patient, in the rush of wind, under the repeated short flights of sprays. + The slight roll of the ship balanced them stiffly all together where they + stood propped against the big boat. The breeze humming between the + inclined masts enveloped their dark and silent figures in the unceasing + resonance of its breath. + </p> + <p> + The brig's head had been laid so as to pass a little to windward of the + small islands of the Carimata group. They had been till then hidden in the + night, but now both men on the lookout reported land ahead in one long + cry. Lingard, standing to leeward abreast of the wheel, watched the islet + first seen. When it was nearly abeam of the brig he gave his orders, and + Wasub hurried off to the main deck. The helm was put down, the yards on + the main came slowly square and the wet canvas of the main-topsail clung + suddenly to the mast after a single heavy flap. The dazzling streak of the + ship's wake vanished. The vessel lost her way and began to dip her bows + into the quick succession of the running head seas. And at every slow + plunge of the craft, the song of the wind would swell louder amongst the + waving spars, with a wild and mournful note. + </p> + <p> + Just as the brig's boat had been swung out, ready for lowering, the + yacht's gig hauled up by its line appeared tossing and splashing on the + lee quarter. Carter stood up in the stern sheets balancing himself + cleverly to the disordered motion of his cockleshell. He hailed the brig + twice to know what was the matter, not being able from below and in the + darkness to make out what that confused group of men on the poop were + about. He got no answer, though he could see the shape of a man standing + by himself aft, and apparently watching him. He was going to repeat his + hail for the third time when he heard the rattling of tackles followed by + a heavy splash, a burst of voices, scrambling hollow sounds—and a + dark mass detaching itself from the brig's side swept past him on the + crest of a passing wave. For less than a second he could see on the + shimmer of the night sky the shape of a boat, the heads of men, the blades + of oars pointing upward while being got out hurriedly. Then all this sank + out of sight, reappeared once more far off and hardly discernible, before + vanishing for good. + </p> + <p> + “Why, they've lowered a boat!” exclaimed Carter, falling back in his seat. + He remembered that he had seen only a few hours ago three native praus + lurking amongst those very islands. For a moment he had the idea of + casting off to go in chase of that boat, so as to find out. . . . Find out + what? He gave up his idea at once. What could he do? + </p> + <p> + The conviction that the yacht, and everything belonging to her, were in + some indefinite but very real danger, took afresh a strong hold of him, + and the persuasion that the master of the brig was going there to help did + not by any means assuage his alarm. The fact only served to complicate his + uneasiness with a sense of mystery. + </p> + <p> + The white man who spoke as if that sea was all his own, or as if people + intruded upon his privacy by taking the liberty of getting wrecked on a + coast where he and his friends did some queer business, seemed to him an + undesirable helper. That the boat had been lowered to communicate with the + praus seen and avoided by him in the evening he had no doubt. The thought + had flashed on him at once. It had an ugly look. Yet the best thing to do + after all was to hang on and get back to the yacht and warn them. . . . + Warn them against whom? The man had been perfectly open with him. Warn + them against what? It struck him that he hadn't the slightest conception + of what would happen, of what was even likely to happen. That strange + rescuer himself was bringing the news of danger. Danger from the natives + of course. And yet he was in communication with those natives. That was + evident. That boat going off in the night. . . . Carter swore heartily to + himself. His perplexity became positive bodily pain as he sat, wet, + uncomfortable, and still, one hand on the tiller, thrown up and down in + headlong swings of his boat. And before his eyes, towering high, the black + hull of the brig also rose and fell, setting her stern down in the sea, + now and again, with a tremendous and foaming splash. Not a sound from her + reached Carter's ears. She seemed an abandoned craft but for the outline + of a man's head and body still visible in a watchful attitude above the + taffrail. + </p> + <p> + Carter told his bowman to haul up closer and hailed: + </p> + <p> + “Brig ahoy. Anything wrong?” + </p> + <p> + He waited, listening. The shadowy man still watched. After some time a + curt “No” came back in answer. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to keep hove-to long?” shouted Carter. + </p> + <p> + “Don't know. Not long. Drop your boat clear of the ship. Drop clear. Do + damage if you don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Slack away, John!” said Carter in a resigned tone to the elderly seaman + in the bow. “Slack away and let us ride easy to the full scope. They don't + seem very talkative on board there.” + </p> + <p> + Even while he was speaking the line ran out and the regular undulations of + the passing seas drove the boat away from the brig. Carter turned a little + in his seat to look at the land. It loomed up dead to leeward like a lofty + and irregular cone only a mile or a mile and a half distant. The noise of + the surf beating upon its base was heard against the wind in measured + detonations. The fatigue of many days spent in the boat asserted itself + above the restlessness of Carter's thoughts and, gradually, he lost the + notion of the passing time without altogether losing the consciousness of + his situation. + </p> + <p> + In the intervals of that benumbed stupor—rather than sleep—he + was aware that the interrupted noise of the surf had grown into a + continuous great rumble, swelling periodically into a loud roar; that the + high islet appeared now bigger, and that a white fringe of foam was + visible at its feet. Still there was no stir or movement of any kind on + board the brig. He noticed that the wind was moderating and the sea going + down with it, and then dozed off again for a minute. When next he opened + his eyes with a start, it was just in time to see with surprise a new star + soar noiselessly straight up from behind the land, take up its position in + a brilliant constellation—and go out suddenly. Two more followed, + ascending together, and after reaching about the same elevation, expired + side by side. + </p> + <p> + “Them's rockets, sir—ain't they?” said one of the men in a muffled + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, rockets,” grunted Carter. “And now, what's the next move?” he + muttered to himself dismally. + </p> + <p> + He got his answer in the fierce swishing whirr of a slender ray of fire + that, shooting violently upward from the sombre hull of the brig, + dissolved at once into a dull red shower of falling sparks. Only one, + white and brilliant, remained alone poised high overhead, and after + glowing vividly for a second, exploded with a feeble report. Almost at the + same time he saw the brig's head fall off the wind, made out the yards + swinging round to fill the main topsail, and heard distinctly the thud of + the first wave thrown off by the advancing bows. The next minute the + tow-line got the strain and his boat started hurriedly after the brig with + a sudden jerk. + </p> + <p> + Leaning forward, wide awake and attentive, Carter steered. His men sat one + behind another with shoulders up, and arched backs, dozing, uncomfortable + but patient, upon the thwarts. The care requisite to steer the boat + properly in the track of the seething and disturbed water left by the brig + in her rapid course prevented him from reflecting much upon the + incertitude of the future and upon his own unusual situation. + </p> + <p> + Now he was only exceedingly anxious to see the yacht again, and it was + with a feeling of very real satisfaction that he saw all plain sail being + made on the brig. Through the remaining hours of the night he sat grasping + the tiller and keeping his eyes on the shadowy and high pyramid of canvas + gliding steadily ahead of his boat with a slight balancing movement from + side to side. + </p> + <p> + IV + </p> + <p> + It was noon before the brig, piloted by Lingard through the deep channels + between the outer coral reefs, rounded within pistol-shot a low hummock of + sand which marked the end of a long stretch of stony ledges that, being + mostly awash, showed a black head only, here and there amongst the hissing + brown froth of the yellow sea. As the brig drew clear of the sandy patch + there appeared, dead to windward and beyond a maze of broken water, + sandspits, and clusters of rocks, the black hull of the yacht heeling + over, high and motionless upon the great expanse of glittering shallows. + Her long, naked spars were inclined slightly as if she had been sailing + with a good breeze. There was to the lookers-on aboard the brig something + sad and disappointing in the yacht's aspect as she lay perfectly still in + an attitude that in a seaman's mind is associated with the idea of rapid + motion. + </p> + <p> + “Here she is!” said Shaw, who, clad in a spotless white suit, came just + then from forward where he had been busy with the anchors. “She is well + on, sir—isn't she? Looks like a mudflat to me from here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It is a mudflat,” said Lingard, slowly, raising the long glass to + his eye. “Haul the mainsail up, Mr. Shaw,” he went on while he took a + steady look at the yacht. “We will have to work in short tacks here.” + </p> + <p> + He put the glass down and moved away from the rail. For the next hour he + handled his little vessel in the intricate and narrow channel with + careless certitude, as if every stone, every grain of sand upon the + treacherous bottom had been plainly disclosed to his sight. He handled her + in the fitful and unsteady breeze with a matter-of-fact audacity that made + Shaw, forward at his station, gasp in sheer alarm. When heading toward the + inshore shoals the brig was never put round till the quick, loud cries of + the leadsmen announced that there were no more than three feet of water + under her keel; and when standing toward the steep inner edge of the long + reef, where the lead was of no use, the helm would be put down only when + the cutwater touched the faint line of the bordering foam. Lingard's love + for his brig was a man's love, and was so great that it could never be + appeased unless he called on her to put forth all her qualities and her + power, to repay his exacting affection by a faithfulness tried to the very + utmost limit of endurance. Every flutter of the sails flew down from aloft + along the taut leeches, to enter his heart in a sense of acute delight; + and the gentle murmur of water alongside, which, continuous and soft, + showed that in all her windings his incomparable craft had never, even for + an instant, ceased to carry her way, was to him more precious and + inspiring than the soft whisper of tender words would have been to another + man. It was in such moments that he lived intensely, in a flush of strong + feeling that made him long to press his little vessel to his breast. She + was his perfect world full of trustful joy. + </p> + <p> + The people on board the yacht, who watched eagerly the first sail they had + seen since they had been ashore on that deserted part of the coast, soon + made her out, with some disappointment, to be a small merchant brig + beating up tack for tack along the inner edge of the reef—probably + with the intention to communicate and offer assistance. The general + opinion among the seafaring portion of her crew was that little effective + assistance could be expected from a vessel of that description. Only the + sailing-master of the yacht remarked to the boatswain (who had the + advantage of being his first cousin): “This man is well acquainted here; + you can see that by the way he handles his brig. I shan't be sorry to have + somebody to stand by us. Can't tell when we will get off this mud, + George.” + </p> + <p> + A long board, sailed very close, enabled the brig to fetch the southern + limit of discoloured water over the bank on which the yacht had stranded. + On the very edge of the muddy patch she was put in stays for the last + time. As soon as she had paid off on the other tack, sail was shortened + smartly, and the brig commenced the stretch that was to bring her to her + anchorage, under her topsails, lower staysails and jib. There was then + less than a quarter of a mile of shallow water between her and the yacht; + but while that vessel had gone ashore with her head to the eastward the + brig was moving slowly in a west-northwest direction, and consequently, + sailed—so to speak—past the whole length of the yacht. Lingard + saw every soul in the schooner on deck, watching his advent in a silence + which was as unbroken and perfect as that on board his own vessel. + </p> + <p> + A little man with a red face framed in white whiskers waved a gold-laced + cap above the rail in the waist of the yacht. Lingard raised his arm in + return. Further aft, under the white awnings, he could see two men and a + woman. One of the men and the lady were in blue. The other man, who seemed + very tall and stood with his arm entwined round an awning stanchion above + his head, was clad in white. Lingard saw them plainly. They looked at the + brig through binoculars, turned their faces to one another, moved their + lips, seemed surprised. A large dog put his forepaws on the rail, and, + lifting up his big, black head, sent out three loud and plaintive barks, + then dropped down out of sight. A sudden stir and an appearance of + excitement amongst all hands on board the yacht was caused by their + perceiving that the boat towing astern of the stranger was their own + second gig. + </p> + <p> + Arms were outstretched with pointing fingers. Someone shouted out a long + sentence of which not a word could be made out; and then the brig, having + reached the western limit of the bank, began to move diagonally away, + increasing her distance from the yacht but bringing her stern gradually + into view. The people aft, Lingard noticed, left their places and walked + over to the taffrail so as to keep him longer in sight. + </p> + <p> + When about a mile off the bank and nearly in line with the stern of the + yacht the brig's topsails fluttered and the yards came down slowly on the + caps; the fore and aft canvas ran down; and for some time she floated + quietly with folded wings upon the transparent sheet of water, under the + radiant silence of the sky. Then her anchor went to the bottom with a + rumbling noise resembling the roll of distant thunder. In a moment her + head tended to the last puffs of the northerly airs and the ensign at the + peak stirred, unfurled itself slowly, collapsed, flew out again, and + finally hung down straight and still, as if weighted with lead. + </p> + <p> + “Dead calm, sir,” said Shaw to Lingard. “Dead calm again. We got into this + funny place in the nick of time, sir.” + </p> + <p> + They stood for a while side by side, looking round upon the coast and the + sea. The brig had been brought up in the middle of a broad belt of clear + water. To the north rocky ledges showed in black and white lines upon the + slight swell setting in from there. A small island stood out from the + broken water like the square tower of some submerged building. It was + about two miles distant from the brig. To the eastward the coast was low; + a coast of green forests fringed with dark mangroves. There was in its + sombre dullness a clearly defined opening, as if a small piece had been + cut out with a sharp knife. The water in it shone like a patch of polished + silver. Lingard pointed it out to Shaw. + </p> + <p> + “This is the entrance to the place where we are going,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Shaw stared, round-eyed. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you came here on account of this here yacht,” he stammered, + surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Ah. The yacht,” said Lingard, musingly, keeping his eyes on the break in + the coast. “The yacht—” He stamped his foot suddenly. “I would give + all I am worth and throw in a few days of life into the bargain if I could + get her off and away before to-night.” + </p> + <p> + He calmed down, and again stood gazing at the land. A little within the + entrance from behind the wall of forests an invisible fire belched out + steadily the black and heavy convolutions of thick smoke, which stood out + high, like a twisted and shivering pillar against the clear blue of the + sky. + </p> + <p> + “We must stop that game, Mr. Shaw,” said Lingard, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. What game?” asked Shaw, looking round in wonder. + </p> + <p> + “This smoke,” said Lingard, impatiently. “It's a signal.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir—though I don't see how we can do it. It seems far + inland. A signal for what, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “It was not meant for us,” said Lingard in an unexpectedly savage tone. + “Here, Shaw, make them put a blank charge into that forecastle gun. Tell + 'em to ram hard the wadding and grease the mouth. We want to make a good + noise. If old Jorgenson hears it, that fire will be out before you have + time to turn round twice. . . . In a minute, Mr. Carter.” + </p> + <p> + The yacht's boat had come alongside as soon as the brig had been brought + up, and Carter had been waiting to take Lingard on board the yacht. They + both walked now to the gangway. Shaw, following his commander, stood by to + take his last orders. + </p> + <p> + “Put all the boats in the water, Mr. Shaw,” Lingard was saying, with one + foot on the rail, ready to leave his ship, “and mount the four-pounder + swivel in the longboat's bow. Cast off the sea lashings of the guns, but + don't run 'em out yet. Keep the topsails loose and the jib ready for + setting, I may want the sails in a hurry. Now, Mr. Carter, I am ready for + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Shove off, boys,” said Carter as soon as they were seated in the boat. + “Shove off, and give way for a last pull before you get a long rest.” + </p> + <p> + The men lay back on their oars, grunting. Their faces were drawn, grey and + streaked with the dried salt sprays. They had the worried expression of + men who had a long call made upon their endurance. Carter, heavy-eyed and + dull, steered for the yacht's gangway. Lingard asked as they were crossing + the brig's bows: + </p> + <p> + “Water enough alongside your craft, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Eight to twelve feet,” answered Carter, hoarsely. “Say, Captain! + Where's your show of cutthroats? Why! This sea is as empty as a church on + a week-day.” + </p> + <p> + The booming report, nearly over his head, of the brig's eighteen-pounder + interrupted him. A round puff of white vapour, spreading itself lazily, + clung in fading shreds about the foreyard. Lingard, turning half round in + the stern sheets, looked at the smoke on the shore. Carter remained + silent, staring sleepily at the yacht they were approaching. Lingard kept + watching the smoke so intensely that he almost forgot where he was, till + Carter's voice pronouncing sharply at his ear the words “way enough,” + recalled him to himself. + </p> + <p> + They were in the shadow of the yacht and coming alongside her ladder. The + master of the brig looked upward into the face of a gentleman, with long + whiskers and a shaved chin, staring down at him over the side through a + single eyeglass. As he put his foot on the bottom step he could see the + shore smoke still ascending, unceasing and thick; but even as he looked + the very base of the black pillar rose above the ragged line of tree-tops. + The whole thing floated clear away from the earth, and rolling itself into + an irregularly shaped mass, drifted out to seaward, travelling slowly over + the blue heavens, like a threatening and lonely cloud. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART II. THE SHORE OF REFUGE + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + The coast off which the little brig, floating upright above her anchor, + seemed to guard the high hull of the yacht has no distinctive features. It + is land without form. It stretches away without cape or bluff, long and + low—indefinitely; and when the heavy gusts of the northeast monsoon + drive the thick rain slanting over the sea, it is seen faintly under the + grey sky, black and with a blurred outline like the straight edge of a + dissolving shore. In the long season of unclouded days, it presents to + view only a narrow band of earth that appears crushed flat upon the vast + level of waters by the weight of the sky, whose immense dome rests on it + in a line as fine and true as that of the sea horizon itself. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding its nearness to the centres of European power, this coast + has been known for ages to the armed wanderers of these seas as “The Shore + of Refuge.” It has no specific name on the charts, and geography manuals + don't mention it at all; but the wreckage of many defeats unerringly + drifts into its creeks. Its approaches are extremely difficult for a + stranger. Looked at from seaward, the innumerable islets fringing what, on + account of its vast size, may be called the mainland, merge into a + background that presents not a single landmark to point the way through + the intricate channels. It may be said that in a belt of sea twenty miles + broad along that low shore there is much more coral, mud, sand, and stones + than actual sea water. It was amongst the outlying shoals of this stretch + that the yacht had gone ashore and the events consequent upon her + stranding took place. + </p> + <p> + The diffused light of the short daybreak showed the open water to the + westward, sleeping, smooth and grey, under a faded heaven. The straight + coast threw a heavy belt of gloom along the shoals, which, in the calm of + expiring night, were unmarked by the slightest ripple. In the faint dawn + the low clumps of bushes on the sandbanks appeared immense. + </p> + <p> + Two figures, noiseless like two shadows, moved slowly over the beach of a + rocky islet, and stopped side by side on the very edge of the water. + Behind them, between the mats from which they had arisen, a small heap of + black embers smouldered quietly. They stood upright and perfectly still, + but for the slight movement of their heads from right to left and back + again as they swept their gaze through the grey emptiness of the waters + where, about two miles distant, the hull of the yacht loomed up to + seaward, black and shapeless, against the wan sky. + </p> + <p> + The two figures looked beyond without exchanging as much as a murmur. The + taller of the two grounded, at arm's length, the stock of a gun with a + long barrel; the hair of the other fell down to its waist; and, near by, + the leaves of creepers drooping from the summit of the steep rock stirred + no more than the festooned stone. The faint light, disclosing here and + there a gleam of white sandbanks and the blurred hummocks of islets + scattered within the gloom of the coast, the profound silence, the vast + stillness all round, accentuated the loneliness of the two human beings + who, urged by a sleepless hope, had risen thus, at break of day, to look + afar upon the veiled face of the sea. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” said the man with a sigh, and as if awakening from a long + period of musing. + </p> + <p> + He was clad in a jacket of coarse blue cotton, of the kind a poor + fisherman might own, and he wore it wide open on a muscular chest the + colour and smoothness of bronze. From the twist of threadbare sarong wound + tightly on the hips protruded outward to the left the ivory hilt, ringed + with six bands of gold, of a weapon that would not have disgraced a ruler. + Silver glittered about the flintlock and the hardwood stock of his gun. + The red and gold handkerchief folded round his head was of costly stuff, + such as is woven by high-born women in the households of chiefs, only the + gold threads were tarnished and the silk frayed in the folds. His head was + thrown back, the dropped eyelids narrowed the gleam of his eyes. His face + was hairless, the nose short with mobile nostrils, and the smile of + careless good-humour seemed to have been permanently wrought, as if with a + delicate tool, into the slight hollows about the corners of rather full + lips. His upright figure had a negligent elegance. But in the careless + face, in the easy gestures of the whole man there was something attentive + and restrained. + </p> + <p> + After giving the offing a last searching glance, he turned and, facing the + rising sun, walked bare-footed on the elastic sand. The trailed butt of + his gun made a deep furrow. The embers had ceased to smoulder. He looked + down at them pensively for a while, then called over his shoulder to the + girl who had remained behind, still scanning the sea: + </p> + <p> + “The fire is out, Immada.” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of his voice the girl moved toward the mats. Her black hair + hung like a mantle. Her sarong, the kilt-like garment which both sexes + wear, had the national check of grey and red, but she had not completed + her attire by the belt, scarves, the loose upper wrappings, and the + head-covering of a woman. A black silk jacket, like that of a man of rank, + was buttoned over her bust and fitted closely to her slender waist. The + edge of a stand-up collar, stiff with gold embroidery, rubbed her cheek. + She had no bracelets, no anklets, and although dressed practically in + man's clothes, had about her person no weapon of any sort. Her arms hung + down in exceedingly tight sleeves slit a little way up from the wrist, + gold-braided and with a row of small gold buttons. She walked, brown and + alert, all of a piece, with short steps, the eyes lively in an impassive + little face, the arched mouth closed firmly; and her whole person breathed + in its rigid grace the fiery gravity of youth at the beginning of the task + of life—at the beginning of beliefs and hopes. + </p> + <p> + This was the day of Lingard's arrival upon the coast, but, as is known, + the brig, delayed by the calm, did not appear in sight of the shallows + till the morning was far advanced. Disappointed in their hope to see the + expected sail shining in the first rays of the rising sun, the man and the + woman, without attempting to relight the fire, lounged on their sleeping + mats. At their feet a common canoe, hauled out of the water, was, for more + security, moored by a grass rope to the shaft of a long spear planted + firmly on the white beach, and the incoming tide lapped monotonously + against its stern. + </p> + <p> + The girl, twisting up her black hair, fastened it with slender wooden + pins. The man, reclining at full length, had made room on his mat for the + gun—as one would do for a friend—and, supported on his elbow, + looked toward the yacht with eyes whose fixed dreaminess like a + transparent veil would show the slow passage of every gloomy thought by + deepening gradually into a sombre stare. + </p> + <p> + “We have seen three sunrises on this islet, and no friend came from the + sea,” he said without changing his attitude, with his back toward the girl + who sat on the other side of the cold embers. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and the moon is waning,” she answered in a low voice. “The moon is + waning. Yet he promised to be here when the nights are light and the water + covers the sandbanks as far as the bushes.” + </p> + <p> + “The traveller knows the time of his setting out, but not the time of his + return,” observed the man, calmly. + </p> + <p> + The girl sighed. + </p> + <p> + “The nights of waiting are long,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “And sometimes they are vain,” said the man with the same composure. + “Perhaps he will never return.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” exclaimed the girl. + </p> + <p> + “The road is long and the heart may grow cold,” was the answer in a quiet + voice. “If he does not return it is because he has forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Hassim, it is because he is dead,” cried the girl, indignantly. + </p> + <p> + The man, looking fixedly to seaward, smiled at the ardour of her tone. + </p> + <p> + They were brother and sister, and though very much alike, the family + resemblance was lost in the more general traits common to the whole race. + </p> + <p> + They were natives of Wajo and it is a common saying amongst the Malay race + that to be a successful traveller and trader a man must have some Wajo + blood in his veins. And with those people trading, which means also + travelling afar, is a romantic and an honourable occupation. The trader + must possess an adventurous spirit and a keen understanding; he should + have the fearlessness of youth and the sagacity of age; he should be + diplomatic and courageous, so as to secure the favour of the great and + inspire fear in evil-doers. + </p> + <p> + These qualities naturally are not expected in a shopkeeper or a Chinaman + pedlar; they are considered indispensable only for a man who, of noble + birth and perhaps related to the ruler of his own country, wanders over + the seas in a craft of his own and with many followers; carries from + island to island important news as well as merchandise; who may be trusted + with secret messages and valuable goods; a man who, in short, is as ready + to intrigue and fight as to buy and sell. Such is the ideal trader of + Wajo. + </p> + <p> + Trading, thus understood, was the occupation of ambitious men who played + an occult but important part in all those national risings, religious + disturbances, and also in the organized piratical movements on a large + scale which, during the first half of the last century, affected the fate + of more than one native dynasty and, for a few years at least, seriously + endangered the Dutch rule in the East. When, at the cost of much blood and + gold, a comparative peace had been imposed on the islands the same + occupation, though shorn of its glorious possibilities, remained + attractive for the most adventurous of a restless race. The younger sons + and relations of many a native ruler traversed the seas of the + Archipelago, visited the innumerable and little-known islands, and the + then practically unknown shores of New Guinea; every spot where European + trade had not penetrated—from Aru to Atjeh, from Sumbawa to Palawan. + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + It was in the most unknown perhaps of such spots, a small bay on the coast + of New Guinea, that young Pata Hassim, the nephew of one of the greatest + chiefs of Wajo, met Lingard for the first time. + </p> + <p> + He was a trader after the Wajo manner, and in a stout sea-going prau armed + with two guns and manned by young men who were related to his family by + blood or dependence, had come in there to buy some birds of paradise skins + for the old Sultan of Ternate; a risky expedition undertaken not in the + way of business but as a matter of courtesy toward the aged Sultan who had + entertained him sumptuously in that dismal brick palace at Ternate for a + month or more. + </p> + <p> + While lying off the village, very much on his guard, waiting for the skins + and negotiating with the treacherous coast-savages who are the go-betweens + in that trade, Hassim saw one morning Lingard's brig come to an anchor in + the bay, and shortly afterward observed a white man of great stature with + a beard that shone like gold, land from a boat and stroll on unarmed, + though followed by four Malays of the brig's crew, toward the native + village. + </p> + <p> + Hassim was struck with wonder and amazement at the cool recklessness of + such a proceeding; and, after; in true Malay fashion, discussing with his + people for an hour or so the urgency of the case, he also landed, but well + escorted and armed, with the intention of going to see what would happen. + </p> + <p> + The affair really was very simple, “such as”—Lingard would say—“such + as might have happened to anybody.” He went ashore with the intention to + look for some stream where he could conveniently replenish his water + casks, this being really the motive which had induced him to enter the + bay. + </p> + <p> + While, with his men close by and surrounded by a mop-headed, sooty crowd, + he was showing a few cotton handkerchiefs, and trying to explain by signs + the object of his landing, a spear, lunged from behind, grazed his neck. + Probably the Papuan wanted only to ascertain whether such a creature could + be killed or hurt, and most likely firmly believed that it could not; but + one of Lingard's seamen at once retaliated by striking at the + experimenting savage with his parang—three such choppers brought for + the purpose of clearing the bush, if necessary, being all the weapons the + party from the brig possessed. + </p> + <p> + A deadly tumult ensued with such suddenness that Lingard, turning round + swiftly, saw his defender, already speared in three places, fall forward + at his feet. Wasub, who was there, and afterward told the story once a + week on an average, used to horrify his hearers by showing how the man + blinked his eyes quickly before he fell. Lingard was unarmed. To the end + of his life he remained incorrigibly reckless in that respect, explaining + that he was “much too quick tempered to carry firearms on the chance of a + row. And if put to it,” he argued, “I can make shift to kill a man with my + fist anyhow; and then—don't ye see—you know what you're doing + and are not so apt to start a trouble from sheer temper or funk—see?” + </p> + <p> + In this case he did his best to kill a man with a blow from the shoulder + and catching up another by the middle flung him at the naked, wild crowd. + “He hurled men about as the wind hurls broken boughs. He made a broad way + through our enemies!” related Wasub in his jerky voice. It is more + probable that Lingard's quick movements and the amazing aspect of such a + strange being caused the warriors to fall back before his rush. + </p> + <p> + Taking instant advantage of their surprise and fear, Lingard, followed by + his men, dashed along the kind of ruinous jetty leading to the village + which was erected as usual over the water. They darted into one of the + miserable huts built of rotten mats and bits of decayed canoes, and in + this shelter showing daylight through all its sides, they had time to draw + breath and realize that their position was not much improved. + </p> + <p> + The women and children screaming had cleared out into the bush, while at + the shore end of the jetty the warriors capered and yelled, preparing for + a general attack. Lingard noticed with mortification that his boat-keeper + apparently had lost his head, for, instead of swimming off to the ship to + give the alarm, as he was perfectly able to do, the man actually struck + out for a small rock a hundred yards away and was frantically trying to + climb up its perpendicular side. The tide being out, to jump into the + horrible mud under the houses would have been almost certain death. + Nothing remained therefore—since the miserable dwelling would not + have withstood a vigorous kick, let alone a siege—but to rush back + on shore and regain possession of the boat. To this Lingard made up his + mind quickly and, arming himself with a crooked stick he found under his + hand, sallied forth at the head of his three men. As he bounded along, far + in advance, he had just time to perceive clearly the desperate nature of + the undertaking, when he heard two shots fired to his right. The solid + mass of black bodies and frizzly heads in front of him wavered and broke + up. They did not run away, however. + </p> + <p> + Lingard pursued his course, but now with that thrill of exultation which + even a faint prospect of success inspires in a sanguine man. He heard a + shout of many voices far off, then there was another report of a shot, and + a musket ball fired at long range spurted a tiny jet of sand between him + and his wild enemies. His next bound would have carried him into their + midst had they awaited his onset, but his uplifted arm found nothing to + strike. Black backs were leaping high or gliding horizontally through the + grass toward the edge of the bush. + </p> + <p> + He flung his stick at the nearest pair of black shoulders and stopped + short. The tall grasses swayed themselves into a rest, a chorus of yells + and piercing shrieks died out in a dismal howl, and all at once the wooded + shores and the blue bay seemed to fall under the spell of a luminous + stillness. The change was as startling as the awakening from a dream. The + sudden silence struck Lingard as amazing. + </p> + <p> + He broke it by lifting his voice in a stentorian shout, which arrested the + pursuit of his men. They retired reluctantly, glaring back angrily at the + wall of a jungle where not a single leaf stirred. The strangers, whose + opportune appearance had decided the issue of that adventure, did not + attempt to join in the pursuit but halted in a compact body on the ground + lately occupied by the savages. + </p> + <p> + Lingard and the young leader of the Wajo traders met in the splendid light + of noonday, and amidst the attentive silence of their followers, on the + very spot where the Malay seaman had lost his life. Lingard, striding up + from one side, thrust out his open palm; Hassim responded at once to the + frank gesture and they exchanged their first hand-clasp over the prostrate + body, as if fate had already exacted the price of a death for the most + ominous of her gifts—the gift of friendship that sometimes contains + the whole good or evil of a life. + </p> + <p> + “I'll never forget this day,” cried Lingard in a hearty tone; and the + other smiled quietly. + </p> + <p> + Then after a short pause—“Will you burn the village for vengeance?” + asked the Malay with a quick glance down at the dead Lascar who, on his + face and with stretched arms, seemed to cling desperately to that earth of + which he had known so little. + </p> + <p> + Lingard hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, at last. “It would do good to no one.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Hassim, gently, “but was this man your debtor—a slave?” + </p> + <p> + “Slave?” cried Lingard. “This is an English brig. Slave? No. A free man + like myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Hai. He is indeed free now,” muttered the Malay with another glance + downward. “But who will pay the bereaved for his life?” + </p> + <p> + “If there is anywhere a woman or child belonging to him, I—my serang + would know—I shall seek them out,” cried Lingard, remorsefully. + </p> + <p> + “You speak like a chief,” said Hassim, “only our great men do not go to + battle with naked hands. O you white men! O the valour of you white men!” + </p> + <p> + “It was folly, pure folly,” protested Lingard, “and this poor fellow has + paid for it.” + </p> + <p> + “He could not avoid his destiny,” murmured the Malay. “It is in my mind my + trading is finished now in this place,” he added, cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + Lingard expressed his regret. + </p> + <p> + “It is no matter, it is no matter,” assured the other courteously, and + after Lingard had given a pressing invitation for Hassim and his two + companions of high rank to visit the brig, the two parties separated. + </p> + <p> + The evening was calm when the Malay craft left its berth near the shore + and was rowed slowly across the bay to Lingard's anchorage. The end of a + stout line was thrown on board, and that night the white man's brig and + the brown man's prau swung together to the same anchor. + </p> + <p> + The sun setting to seaward shot its last rays between the headlands, when + the body of the killed Lascar, wrapped up decently in a white sheet, + according to Mohammedan usage, was lowered gently below the still waters + of the bay upon which his curious glances, only a few hours before, had + rested for the first time. At the moment the dead man, released from + slip-ropes, disappeared without a ripple before the eyes of his shipmates, + the bright flash and the heavy report of the brig's bow gun were succeeded + by the muttering echoes of the encircling shores and by the loud cries of + sea birds that, wheeling in clouds, seemed to scream after the departing + seaman a wild and eternal good-bye. The master of the brig, making his way + aft with hanging head, was followed by low murmurs of pleased surprise + from his crew as well as from the strangers who crowded the main deck. In + such acts performed simply, from conviction, what may be called the + romantic side of the man's nature came out; that responsive sensitiveness + to the shadowy appeals made by life and death, which is the groundwork of + a chivalrous character. + </p> + <p> + Lingard entertained his three visitors far into the night. A sheep from + the brig's sea stock was given to the men of the prau, while in the cabin, + Hassim and his two friends, sitting in a row on the stern settee, looked + very splendid with costly metals and flawed jewels. The talk conducted + with hearty friendship on Lingard's part, and on the part of the Malays + with the well-bred air of discreet courtesy, which is natural to the + better class of that people, touched upon many subjects and, in the end, + drifted to politics. + </p> + <p> + “It is in my mind that you are a powerful man in your own country,” said + Hassim, with a circular glance at the cuddy. + </p> + <p> + “My country is upon a far-away sea where the light breezes are as strong + as the winds of the rainy weather here,” said Lingard; and there were low + exclamations of wonder. “I left it very young, and I don't know about my + power there where great men alone are as numerous as the poor people in + all your islands, Tuan Hassim. But here,” he continued, “here, which is + also my country—being an English craft and worthy of it, too—I + am powerful enough. In fact, I am Rajah here. This bit of my country is + all my own.” + </p> + <p> + The visitors were impressed, exchanged meaning glances, nodded at each + other. + </p> + <p> + “Good, good,” said Hassim at last, with a smile. “You carry your country + and your power with you over the sea. A Rajah upon the sea. Good!” + </p> + <p> + Lingard laughed thunderously while the others looked amused. + </p> + <p> + “Your country is very powerful—we know,” began again Hassim after a + pause, “but is it stronger than the country of the Dutch who steal our + land?” + </p> + <p> + “Stronger?” cried Lingard. He opened a broad palm. “Stronger? We could + take them in our hand like this—” and he closed his fingers + triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “And do you make them pay tribute for their land?” enquired Hassim with + eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Lingard in a sobered tone; “this, Tuan Hassim, you see, is + not the custom of white men. We could, of course—but it is not the + custom.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not?” said the other with a sceptical smile. “They are stronger + than we are and they want tribute from us. And sometimes they get it—even + from Wajo where every man is free and wears a kris.” + </p> + <p> + There was a period of dead silence while Lingard looked thoughtful and the + Malays gazed stonily at nothing. + </p> + <p> + “But we burn our powder amongst ourselves,” went on Hassim, gently, “and + blunt our weapons upon one another.” + </p> + <p> + He sighed, paused, and then changing to an easy tone began to urge Lingard + to visit Wajo “for trade and to see friends,” he said, laying his hand on + his breast and inclining his body slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Aye. To trade with friends,” cried Lingard with a laugh, “for such a + ship”—he waved his arm—“for such a vessel as this is like a + household where there are many behind the curtain. It is as costly as a + wife and children.” + </p> + <p> + The guests rose and took their leave. + </p> + <p> + “You fired three shots for me, Panglima Hassim,” said Lingard, seriously, + “and I have had three barrels of powder put on board your prau; one for + each shot. But we are not quits.” + </p> + <p> + The Malay's eyes glittered with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “This is indeed a friend's gift. Come to see me in my country!” + </p> + <p> + “I promise,” said Lingard, “to see you—some day.” + </p> + <p> + The calm surface of the bay reflected the glorious night sky, and the brig + with the prau riding astern seemed to be suspended amongst the stars in a + peace that was almost unearthly in the perfection of its unstirring + silence. The last hand-shakes were exchanged on deck, and the Malays went + aboard their own craft. Next morning, when a breeze sprang up soon after + sunrise, the brig and the prau left the bay together. When clear of the + land Lingard made all sail and sheered alongside to say good-bye before + parting company—the brig, of course, sailing three feet to the + prau's one. Hassim stood on the high deck aft. + </p> + <p> + “Prosperous road,” hailed Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Remember the promise!” shouted the other. “And come soon!” he went on, + raising his voice as the brig forged past. “Come soon—lest what + perhaps is written should come to pass!” + </p> + <p> + The brig shot ahead. + </p> + <p> + “What?” yelled Lingard in a puzzled tone, “what's written?” + </p> + <p> + He listened. And floating over the water came faintly the words: + </p> + <p> + “No one knows!” + </p> + <p> + III + </p> + <p> + “My word! I couldn't help liking the chap,” would shout Lingard when + telling the story; and looking around at the eyes that glittered at him + through the smoke of cheroots, this Brixham trawler-boy, afterward a youth + in colliers, deep-water man, gold-digger, owner and commander of “the + finest brig afloat,” knew that by his listeners—seamen, traders, + adventurers like himself—this was accepted not as the expression of + a feeling, but as the highest commendation he could give his Malay friend. + </p> + <p> + “By heavens! I shall go to Wajo!” he cried, and a semicircle of heads + nodded grave approbation while a slightly ironical voice said deliberately—“You + are a made man, Tom, if you get on the right side of that Rajah of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Go in—and look out for yourself,” cried another with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + A little professional jealousy was unavoidable, Wajo, on account of its + chronic state of disturbance, being closed to the white traders; but there + was no real ill-will in the banter of these men, who, rising with + handshakes, dropped off one by one. Lingard went straight aboard his + vessel and, till morning, walked the poop of the brig with measured steps. + The riding lights of ships twinkled all round him; the lights ashore + twinkled in rows, the stars twinkled above his head in a black sky; and + reflected in the black water of the roadstead twinkled far below his feet. + And all these innumerable and shining points were utterly lost in the + immense darkness. Once he heard faintly the rumbling chain of some vessel + coming to an anchor far away somewhere outside the official limits of the + harbour. A stranger to the port—thought Lingard—one of us + would have stood right in. Perhaps a ship from home? And he felt strangely + touched at the thought of that ship, weary with months of wandering, and + daring not to approach the place of rest. At sunrise, while the big ship + from the West, her sides streaked with rust and grey with the salt of the + sea, was moving slowly in to take up a berth near the shore, Lingard left + the roadstead on his way to the eastward. + </p> + <p> + A heavy gulf thunderstorm was raging, when after a long passage and at the + end of a sultry calm day, wasted in drifting helplessly in sight of his + destination, Lingard, taking advantage of fitful gusts of wind, approached + the shores of Wajo. With characteristic audacity, he held on his way, + closing in with a coast to which he was a stranger, and on a night that + would have appalled any other man; while at every dazzling flash, Hassim's + native land seemed to leap nearer at the brig—and disappear + instantly as though it had crouched low for the next spring out of an + impenetrable darkness. During the long day of the calm, he had obtained + from the deck and from aloft, such good views of the coast, and had noted + the lay of the land and the position of the dangers so carefully that, + though at the precise moment when he gave the order to let go the anchor, + he had been for some time able to see no further than if his head had been + wrapped in a woollen blanket, yet the next flickering bluish flash showed + him the brig, anchored almost exactly where he had judged her to be, off a + narrow white beach near the mouth of a river. + </p> + <p> + He could see on the shore a high cluster of bamboo huts perched upon + piles, a small grove of tall palms all bowed together before the blast + like stalks of grass, something that might have been a palisade of pointed + stakes near the water, and far off, a sombre background resembling an + immense wall—the forest-clad hills. Next moment, all this vanished + utterly from his sight, as if annihilated and, before he had time to turn + away, came back to view with a sudden crash, appearing unscathed and + motionless under hooked darts of flame, like some legendary country of + immortals, withstanding the wrath and fire of Heaven. + </p> + <p> + Made uneasy by the nature of his holding ground, and fearing that in one + of the terrific off-shore gusts the brig would start her anchor, Lingard + remained on deck to watch over the safety of his vessel. With one hand + upon the lead-line which would give him instant warning of the brig + beginning to drag, he stood by the rail, most of the time deafened and + blinded, but also fascinated, by the repeated swift visions of an unknown + shore, a sight always so inspiring, as much perhaps by its vague + suggestion of danger as by the hopes of success it never fails to awaken + in the heart of a true adventurer. And its immutable aspect of profound + and still repose, seen thus under streams of fire and in the midst of a + violent uproar, made it appear inconceivably mysterious and amazing. + </p> + <p> + Between the squalls there were short moments of calm, while now and then + even the thunder would cease as if to draw breath. During one of those + intervals. Lingard, tired and sleepy, was beginning to doze where he + stood, when suddenly it occurred to him that, somewhere below, the sea had + spoken in a human voice. It had said, “Praise be to God—” and the + voice sounded small, clear, and confident, like the voice of a child + speaking in a cathedral. Lingard gave a start and thought—I've + dreamed this—and directly the sea said very close to him, “Give a + rope.” + </p> + <p> + The thunder growled wickedly, and Lingard, after shouting to the men on + deck, peered down at the water, until at last he made out floating close + alongside the upturned face of a man with staring eyes that gleamed at him + and then blinked quickly to a flash of lightning. By that time all hands + in the brig were wildly active and many ropes-ends had been thrown over. + Then together with a gust of wind, and, as if blown on board, a man + tumbled over the rail and fell all in a heap upon the deck. Before any one + had the time to pick him up, he leaped to his feet, causing the people + around him to step back hurriedly. A sinister blue glare showed the + bewildered faces and the petrified attitudes of men completely deafened by + the accompanying peal of thunder. After a time, as if to beings plunged in + the abyss of eternal silence, there came to their ears an unfamiliar thin, + far-away voice saying: + </p> + <p> + “I seek the white man.” + </p> + <p> + “Here,” cried Lingard. Then, when he had the stranger, dripping and naked + but for a soaked waistcloth, under the lamp of the cabin, he said, “I + don't know you.” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Jaffir, and I come from Pata Hassim, who is my chief and your + friend. Do you know this?” + </p> + <p> + He held up a thick gold ring, set with a fairly good emerald. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen it before on the Rajah's finger,” said Lingard, looking very + grave. + </p> + <p> + “It is the witness of the truth I speak—the message from Hassim is—'Depart + and forget!'” + </p> + <p> + “I don't forget,” said Lingard, slowly. “I am not that kind of man. What + folly is this?” + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary to give at full length the story told by Jaffir. It + appears that on his return home, after the meeting with Lingard, Hassim + found his relative dying and a strong party formed to oppose his rightful + successor. The old Rajah Tulla died late at night and—as Jaffir put + it—before the sun rose there were already blows exchanged in the + courtyard of the ruler's dalam. This was the preliminary fight of a civil + war, fostered by foreign intrigues; a war of jungle and river, of + assaulted stockades and forest ambushes. In this contest, both parties—according + to Jaffir—displayed great courage, and one of them an unswerving + devotion to what, almost from the first, was a lost cause. Before a month + elapsed Hassim, though still chief of an armed band, was already a + fugitive. He kept up the struggle, however, with some vague notion that + Lingard's arrival would turn the tide. + </p> + <p> + “For weeks we lived on wild rice; for days we fought with nothing but + water in our bellies,” declaimed Jaffir in the tone of a true fire-eater. + </p> + <p> + And then he went on to relate, how, driven steadily down to the sea, + Hassim, with a small band of followers, had been for days holding the + stockade by the waterside. + </p> + <p> + “But every night some men disappeared,” confessed Jaffir. “They were weary + and hungry and they went to eat with their enemies. We are only ten now—ten + men and a woman with the heart of a man, who are tonight starving, and + to-morrow shall die swiftly. We saw your ship afar all day; but you have + come too late. And for fear of treachery and lest harm should befall you—his + friend—the Rajah gave me the ring and I crept on my stomach over the + sand, and I swam in the night—and I, Jaffir, the best swimmer in + Wajo, and the slave of Hassim, tell you—his message to you is + 'Depart and forget'—and this is his gift—take!” + </p> + <p> + He caught hold suddenly of Lingard's hand, thrust roughly into it the + ring, and then for the first time looked round the cabin with wondering + but fearless eyes. They lingered over the semicircle of bayonets and + rested fondly on musket-racks. He grunted in admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Ya-wa, this is strength!” he murmured as if to himself. “But it has come + too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” cried Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Too late,” said Jaffir, “we are ten only, and at sunrise we go out to + die.” He went to the cabin door and hesitated there with a puzzled air, + being unused to locks and door handles. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” asked Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “I shall swim back,” replied Jaffir. “The message is spoken and the night + can not last forever.” + </p> + <p> + “You can stop with me,” said Lingard, looking at the man searchingly. + </p> + <p> + “Hassim waits,” was the curt answer. + </p> + <p> + “Did he tell you to return?” asked Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “No! What need?” said the other in a surprised tone. + </p> + <p> + Lingard seized his hand impulsively. + </p> + <p> + “If I had ten men like you!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “We are ten, but they are twenty to one,” said Jaffir, simply. + </p> + <p> + Lingard opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want anything that a man can give?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The Malay had a moment of hesitation, and Lingard noticed the sunken eyes, + the prominent ribs, and the worn-out look of the man. + </p> + <p> + “Speak out,” he urged with a smile; “the bearer of a gift must have a + reward.” + </p> + <p> + “A drink of water and a handful of rice for strength to reach the shore,” + said Jaffir sturdily. “For over there”—he tossed his head—“we + had nothing to eat to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall have it—give it to you with my own hands,” muttered + Lingard. + </p> + <p> + He did so, and thus lowered himself in Jaffir's estimation for a time. + While the messenger, squatting on the floor, ate without haste but with + considerable earnestness, Lingard thought out a plan of action. In his + ignorance as to the true state of affairs in the country, to save Hassim + from the immediate danger of his position was all that he could reasonably + attempt. To that end Lingard proposed to swing out his long-boat and send + her close inshore to take off Hassim and his men. He knew enough of Malays + to feel sure that on such a night the besiegers, now certain of success, + and being, Jaffir said, in possession of everything that could float, + would not be very vigilant, especially on the sea front of the stockade. + The very fact of Jaffir having managed to swim off undetected proved that + much. The brig's boat could—when the frequency of lightning abated—approach + unseen close to the beach, and the defeated party, either stealing out one + by one or making a rush in a body, would embark and be received in the + brig. + </p> + <p> + This plan was explained to Jaffir, who heard it without the slightest mark + of interest, being apparently too busy eating. When the last grain of rice + was gone, he stood up, took a long pull at the water bottle, muttered: “I + hear. Good. I will tell Hassim,” and tightening the rag round his loins, + prepared to go. “Give me time to swim ashore,” he said, “and when the boat + starts, put another light beside the one that burns now like a star above + your vessel. We shall see and understand. And don't send the boat till + there is less lightning: a boat is bigger than a man in the water. Tell + the rowers to pull for the palm-grove and cease when an oar, thrust down + with a strong arm, touches the bottom. Very soon they will hear our hail; + but if no one comes they must go away before daylight. A chief may prefer + death to life, and we who are left are all of true heart. Do you + understand, O big man?” + </p> + <p> + “The chap has plenty of sense,” muttered Lingard to himself, and when they + stood side by side on the deck, he said: “But there may be enemies on the + beach, O Jaffir, and they also may shout to deceive my men. So let your + hail be Lightning! Will you remember?” + </p> + <p> + For a time Jaffir seemed to be choking. + </p> + <p> + “Lit-ing! Is that right? I say—is that right, O strong man?” Next + moment he appeared upright and shadowy on the rail. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. That's right. Go now,” said Lingard, and Jaffir leaped off, becoming + invisible long before he struck the water. Then there was a splash; after + a while a spluttering voice cried faintly, “Lit-ing! Ah, ha!” and suddenly + the next thunder-squall burst upon the coast. In the crashing flares of + light Lingard had again and again the quick vision of a white beach, the + inclined palm-trees of the grove, the stockade by the sea, the forest far + away: a vast landscape mysterious and still—Hassim's native country + sleeping unmoved under the wrath and fire of Heaven. + </p> + <p> + IV + </p> + <p> + A Traveller visiting Wajo to-day may, if he deserves the confidence of the + common people, hear the traditional account of the last civil war, + together with the legend of a chief and his sister, whose mother had been + a great princess suspected of sorcery and on her death-bed had + communicated to these two the secrets of the art of magic. The chief's + sister especially, “with the aspect of a child and the fearlessness of a + great fighter,” became skilled in casting spells. They were defeated by + the son of their uncle, because—will explain the narrator simply—“The + courage of us Wajo people is so great that magic can do nothing against + it. I fought in that war. We had them with their backs to the sea.” And + then he will go on to relate in an awed tone how on a certain night “when + there was such a thunderstorm as has been never heard of before or since” + a ship, resembling the ships of white men, appeared off the coast, “as + though she had sailed down from the clouds. She moved,” he will affirm, + “with her sails bellying against the wind; in size she was like an island; + the lightning played between her masts which were as high as the summits + of mountains; a star burned low through the clouds above her. We knew it + for a star at once because no flame of man's kindling could have endured + the wind and rain of that night. It was such a night that we on the watch + hardly dared look upon the sea. The heavy rain was beating down our + eyelids. And when day came, the ship was nowhere to be seen, and in the + stockade where the day before there were a hundred or more at our mercy, + there was no one. The chief, Hassim, was gone, and the lady who was a + princess in the country—and nobody knows what became of them from + that day to this. Sometimes traders from our parts talk of having heard of + them here, and heard of them there, but these are the lies of men who go + afar for gain. We who live in the country believe that the ship sailed + back into the clouds whence the Lady's magic made her come. Did we not see + the ship with our own eyes? And as to Rajah Hassim and his sister, Mas + Immada, some men say one thing and some another, but God alone knows the + truth.” + </p> + <p> + Such is the traditional account of Lingard's visit to the shores of Boni. + And the truth is he came and went the same night; for, when the dawn broke + on a cloudy sky the brig, under reefed canvas and smothered in sprays, was + storming along to the southward on her way out of the Gulf. Lingard, + watching over the rapid course of his vessel, looked ahead with anxious + eyes and more than once asked himself with wonder, why, after all, was he + thus pressing her under all the sail she could carry. His hair was blown + about by the wind, his mind was full of care and the indistinct shapes of + many new thoughts, and under his feet, the obedient brig dashed headlong + from wave to wave. + </p> + <p> + Her owner and commander did not know where he was going. That adventurer + had only a confused notion of being on the threshold of a big adventure. + There was something to be done, and he felt he would have to do it. It was + expected of him. The seas expected it; the land expected it. Men also. The + story of war and of suffering; Jaffir's display of fidelity, the sight of + Hassim and his sister, the night, the tempest, the coast under streams of + fire—all this made one inspiring manifestation of a life calling to + him distinctly for interference. But what appealed to him most was the + silent, the complete, unquestioning, and apparently uncurious, trust of + these people. They came away from death straight into his arms as it were, + and remained in them passive as though there had been no such thing as + doubt or hope or desire. This amazing unconcern seemed to put him under a + heavy load of obligation. + </p> + <p> + He argued to himself that had not these defeated men expected everything + from him they could not have been so indifferent to his action. Their dumb + quietude stirred him more than the most ardent pleading. Not a word, not a + whisper, not a questioning look even! They did not ask! It flattered him. + He was also rather glad of it, because if the unconscious part of him was + perfectly certain of its action, he, himself, did not know what to do with + those bruised and battered beings a playful fate had delivered suddenly + into his hands. + </p> + <p> + He had received the fugitives personally, had helped some over the rail; + in the darkness, slashed about by lightning, he had guessed that not one + of them was unwounded, and in the midst of tottering shapes he wondered + how on earth they had managed to reach the long-boat that had brought them + off. He caught unceremoniously in his arms the smallest of these shapes + and carried it into the cabin, then without looking at his light burden + ran up again on deck to get the brig under way. While shouting out orders + he was dimly aware of someone hovering near his elbow. It was Hassim. + </p> + <p> + “I am not ready for war,” he explained, rapidly, over his shoulder, “and + to-morrow there may be no wind.” Afterward for a time he forgot everybody + and everything while he conned the brig through the few outlying dangers. + But in half an hour, and running off with the wind on the quarter, he was + quite clear of the coast and breathed freely. It was only then that he + approached two others on that poop where he was accustomed in moments of + difficulty to commune alone with his craft. Hassim had called his sister + out of the cabin; now and then Lingard could see them with fierce + distinctness, side by side, and with twined arms, looking toward the + mysterious country that seemed at every flash to leap away farther from + the brig—unscathed and fading. + </p> + <p> + The thought uppermost in Lingard's mind was: “What on earth am I going to + do with them?” And no one seemed to care what he would do. Jaffir with + eight others quartered on the main hatch, looked to each other's wounds + and conversed interminably in low tones, cheerful and quiet, like + well-behaved children. Each of them had saved his kris, but Lingard had to + make a distribution of cotton cloth out of his trade-goods. Whenever he + passed by them, they all looked after him gravely. Hassim and Immada lived + in the cuddy. The chief's sister took the air only in the evening and + those two could be heard every night, invisible and murmuring in the + shadows of the quarter-deck. Every Malay on board kept respectfully away + from them. + </p> + <p> + Lingard, on the poop, listened to the soft voices, rising and falling, in + a melancholy cadence; sometimes the woman cried out as if in anger or in + pain. He would stop short. The sound of a deep sigh would float up to him + on the stillness of the night. Attentive stars surrounded the wandering + brig and on all sides their light fell through a vast silence upon a + noiseless sea. Lingard would begin again to pace the deck, muttering to + himself. + </p> + <p> + “Belarab's the man for this job. His is the only place where I can look + for help, but I don't think I know enough to find it. I wish I had old + Jorgenson here—just for ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + This Jorgenson knew things that had happened a long time ago, and lived + amongst men efficient in meeting the accidents of the day, but who did not + care what would happen to-morrow and who had no time to remember + yesterday. Strictly speaking, he did not live amongst them. He only + appeared there from time to time. He lived in the native quarter, with a + native woman, in a native house standing in the middle of a plot of fenced + ground where grew plantains, and furnished only with mats, cooking pots, a + queer fishing net on two sticks, and a small mahogany case with a lock and + a silver plate engraved with the words “Captain H. C. Jorgenson. Barque + Wild Rose.” + </p> + <p> + It was like an inscription on a tomb. The Wild Rose was dead, and so was + Captain H. C. Jorgenson, and the sextant case was all that was left of + them. Old Jorgenson, gaunt and mute, would turn up at meal times on board + any trading vessel in the Roads, and the stewards—Chinamen or + mulattos—would sulkily put on an extra plate without waiting for + orders. When the seamen traders foregathered noisily round a glittering + cluster of bottles and glasses on a lighted verandah, old Jorgenson would + emerge up the stairs as if from a dark sea, and, stepping up with a kind + of tottering jauntiness, would help himself in the first tumbler to hand. + </p> + <p> + “I drink to you all. No—no chair.” + </p> + <p> + He would stand silent over the talking group. His taciturnity was as + eloquent as the repeated warning of the slave of the feast. His flesh had + gone the way of all flesh, his spirit had sunk in the turmoil of his past, + but his immense and bony frame survived as if made of iron. His hands + trembled but his eyes were steady. He was supposed to know details about + the end of mysterious men and of mysterious enterprises. He was an evident + failure himself, but he was believed to know secrets that would make the + fortune of any man; yet there was also a general impression that his + knowledge was not of that nature which would make it profitable for a + moderately prudent person. + </p> + <p> + This powerful skeleton, dressed in faded blue serge and without any kind + of linen, existed anyhow. Sometimes, if offered the job, he piloted a home + ship through the Straits of Rhio, after, however, assuring the captain: + </p> + <p> + “You don't want a pilot; a man could go through with his eyes shut. But if + you want me, I'll come. Ten dollars.” + </p> + <p> + Then, after seeing his charge clear of the last island of the group he + would go back thirty miles in a canoe, with two old Malays who seemed to + be in some way his followers. To travel thirty miles at sea under the + equatorial sun and in a cranky dug-out where once down you must not move, + is an achievement that requires the endurance of a fakir and the virtue of + a salamander. Ten dollars was cheap and generally he was in demand. When + times were hard he would borrow five dollars from any of the adventurers + with the remark: + </p> + <p> + “I can't pay you back, very soon, but the girl must eat, and if you want + to know anything, I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + It was remarkable that nobody ever smiled at that “anything.” The usual + thing was to say: + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, old man; when I am pushed for a bit of information I'll come + to you.” + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson nodded then and would say: “Remember that unless you young chaps + are like we men who ranged about here years ago, what I could tell you + would be worse than poison.” + </p> + <p> + It was from Jorgenson, who had his favourites with whom he was less + silent, that Lingard had heard of Darat-es-Salam, the “Shore of Refuge.” + Jorgenson had, as he expressed it, “known the inside of that country just + after the high old times when the white-clad Padris preached and fought + all over Sumatra till the Dutch shook in their shoes.” Only he did not say + “shook” and “shoes” but the above paraphrase conveys well enough his + contemptuous meaning. Lingard tried now to remember and piece together the + practical bits of old Jorgenson's amazing tales; but all that had remained + with him was an approximate idea of the locality and a very strong but + confused notion of the dangerous nature of its approaches. He hesitated, + and the brig, answering in her movements to the state of the man's mind, + lingered on the road, seemed to hesitate also, swinging this way and that + on the days of calm. + </p> + <p> + It was just because of that hesitation that a big New York ship, loaded + with oil in cases for Japan, and passing through the Billiton passage, + sighted one morning a very smart brig being hove-to right in the fair-way + and a little to the east of Carimata. The lank skipper, in a frock-coat, + and the big mate with heavy moustaches, judged her almost too pretty for a + Britisher, and wondered at the man on board laying his topsail to the mast + for no reason that they could see. The big ship's sails fanned her along, + flapping in the light air, and when the brig was last seen far astern she + had still her mainyard aback as if waiting for someone. But when, next + day, a London tea-clipper passed on the same track, she saw no pretty brig + hesitating, all white and still at the parting of the ways. All that night + Lingard had talked with Hassim while the stars streamed from east to west + like an immense river of sparks above their heads. Immada listened, + sometimes exclaiming low, sometimes holding her breath. She clapped her + hands once. A faint dawn appeared. + </p> + <p> + “You shall be treated like my father in the country,” Hassim was saying. A + heavy dew dripped off the rigging and the darkened sails were black on the + pale azure of the sky. “You shall be the father who advises for good—” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be a steady friend, and as a friend I want to be treated—no + more,” said Lingard. “Take back your ring.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you scorn my gift?” asked Hassim, with a sad and ironic smile. + </p> + <p> + “Take it,” said Lingard. “It is still mine. How can I forget that, when + facing death, you thought of my safety? There are many dangers before us. + We shall be often separated—to work better for the same end. If ever + you and Immada need help at once and I am within reach, send me a message + with this ring and if I am alive I will not fail you.” He looked around at + the pale daybreak. “I shall talk to Belarab straight—like we whites + do. I have never seen him, but I am a strong man. Belarab must help us to + reconquer your country and when our end is attained I won't let him eat + you up.” + </p> + <p> + Hassim took the ring and inclined his head. + </p> + <p> + “It's time for us to be moving,” said Lingard. He felt a slight tug at his + sleeve. He looked back and caught Immada in the act of pressing her + forehead to the grey flannel. “Don't, child!” he said, softly. + </p> + <p> + The sun rose above the faint blue line of the Shore of Refuge. + </p> + <p> + The hesitation was over. The man and the vessel, working in accord, had + found their way to the faint blue shore. Before the sun had descended + half-way to its rest the brig was anchored within a gunshot of the slimy + mangroves, in a place where for a hundred years or more no white man's + vessel had been entrusted to the hold of the bottom. The adventurers of + two centuries ago had no doubt known of that anchorage for they were very + ignorant and incomparably audacious. If it is true, as some say, that the + spirits of the dead haunt the places where the living have sinned and + toiled, then they might have seen a white long-boat, pulled by eight oars + and steered by a man sunburnt and bearded, a cabbage-leaf hat on head, and + pistols in his belt, skirting the black mud, full of twisted roots, in + search of a likely opening. + </p> + <p> + Creek after creek was passed and the boat crept on slowly like a monstrous + water-spider with a big body and eight slender legs. . . . Did you follow + with your ghostly eyes the quest of this obscure adventurer of yesterday, + you shades of forgotten adventurers who, in leather jerkins and sweating + under steel helmets, attacked with long rapiers the palisades of the + strange heathen, or, musket on shoulder and match in cock, guarded timber + blockhouses built upon the banks of rivers that command good trade? You, + who, wearied with the toil of fighting, slept wrapped in frieze mantles on + the sand of quiet beaches, dreaming of fabulous diamonds and of a far-off + home. + </p> + <p> + “Here's an opening,” said Lingard to Hassim, who sat at his side, just as + the sun was setting away to his left. “Here's an opening big enough for a + ship. It's the entrance we are looking for, I believe. We shall pull all + night up this creek if necessary and it's the very devil if we don't come + upon Belarab's lair before daylight.” + </p> + <p> + He shoved the tiller hard over and the boat, swerving sharply, vanished + from the coast. + </p> + <p> + And perhaps the ghosts of old adventurers nodded wisely their ghostly + heads and exchanged the ghost of a wistful smile. + </p> + <p> + V + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with King Tom of late?” would ask someone when, all the + cards in a heap on the table, the traders lying back in their chairs took + a spell from a hard gamble. + </p> + <p> + “Tom has learned to hold his tongue, he must be up to some dam' good + thing,” opined another; while a man with hooked features and of German + extraction who was supposed to be agent for a Dutch crockery house—the + famous “Sphinx” mark—broke in resentfully: + </p> + <p> + “Nefer mind him, shentlemens, he's matt, matt as a Marsh Hase. Dree monats + ago I call on board his prig to talk pizness. And he says like dis—'Glear + oudt.' 'Vat for?' I say. 'Glear oudt before I shuck you oferboard.' + Gott-for-dam! Iss dat the vay to talk pizness? I vant sell him ein liddle + case first chop grockery for trade and—” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha, ha! I don't blame Tom,” interrupted the owner of a pearling + schooner, who had come into the Roads for stores. “Why, Mosey, there isn't + a mangy cannibal left in the whole of New Guinea that hasn't got a cup and + saucer of your providing. You've flooded the market, savee?” + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson stood by, a skeleton at the gaming table. + </p> + <p> + “Because you are a Dutch spy,” he said, suddenly, in an awful tone. + </p> + <p> + The agent of the Sphinx mark jumped up in a sudden fury. + </p> + <p> + “Vat? Vat? Shentlemens, you all know me!” Not a muscle moved in the faces + around. “Know me,” he stammered with wet lips. “Vat, funf year—berfegtly + acquaint—grockery—Verfluchte sponsher. Ich? Spy. Vat for spy? + Vordamte English pedlars!” + </p> + <p> + The door slammed. “Is that so?” asked a New England voice. “Why don't you + let daylight into him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we can't do that here,” murmured one of the players. “Your deal, + Trench, let us get on.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you?” drawled the New England voice. “You law-abiding, + get-a-summons, act-of—parliament lot of sons of Belial—can't + you? Now, look a-here, these Colt pistols I am selling—” He took the + pearler aside and could be heard talking earnestly in the corner. “See—you + load—and—see?” There were rapid clicks. “Simple, isn't it? And + if any trouble—say with your divers”—<i>click, click, click</i>—“Through + and through—like a sieve—warranted to cure the worst kind of + cussedness in any nigger. Yes, siree! A case of twenty-four or single + specimens—as you like. No? Shot-guns—rifles? No! Waal, I guess + you're of no use to me, but I could do a deal with that Tom—what + d'ye call him? Where d'ye catch him? Everywhere—eh? Waal—that's + nowhere. But I shall find him some day—yes, siree.” + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson, utterly disregarded, looked down dreamily at the falling cards. + “Spy—I tell you,” he muttered to himself. “If you want to know + anything, ask me.” + </p> + <p> + When Lingard returned from Wajo—after an uncommonly long absence—everyone + remarked a great change. He was less talkative and not so noisy, he was + still hospitable but his hospitality was less expansive, and the man who + was never so happy as when discussing impossibly wild projects with half a + dozen congenial spirits often showed a disinclination to meet his best + friends. In a word, he returned much less of a good fellow than he went + away. His visits to the Settlements were not less frequent, but much + shorter; and when there he was always in a hurry to be gone. + </p> + <p> + During two years the brig had, in her way, as hard a life of it as the + man. Swift and trim she flitted amongst the islands of little known + groups. She could be descried afar from lonely headlands, a white speck + travelling fast over the blue sea; the apathetic keepers of rare + lighthouses dotting the great highway to the east came to know the cut of + her topsails. They saw her passing east, passing west. They had faint + glimpses of her flying with masts aslant in the mist of a rain-squall, or + could observe her at leisure, upright and with shivering sails, forging + ahead through a long day of unsteady airs. Men saw her battling with a + heavy monsoon in the Bay of Bengal, lying becalmed in the Java Sea, or + gliding out suddenly from behind a point of land, graceful and silent in + the clear moonlight. Her activity was the subject of excited but low-toned + conversations, which would be interrupted when her master appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Here he is. Came in last night,” whispered the gossiping group. + </p> + <p> + Lingard did not see the covert glances of respect tempered by irony; he + nodded and passed on. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Tom! No time for a drink?” would shout someone. + </p> + <p> + He would shake his head without looking back—far away already. + </p> + <p> + Florid and burly he could be seen, for a day or two, getting out of dusty + gharries, striding in sunshine from the Occidental Bank to the Harbour + Office, crossing the Esplanade, disappearing down a street of Chinese + shops, while at his elbow and as tall as himself, old Jorgenson paced + along, lean and faded, obstinate and disregarded, like a haunting spirit + from the past eager to step back into the life of men. + </p> + <p> + Lingard ignored this wreck of an adventurer, sticking to him closer than + his shadow, and the other did not try to attract attention. He waited + patiently at the doors of offices, would vanish at tiffin time, would + invariably turn up again in the evening and then he kept his place till + Lingard went aboard for the night. The police peons on duty looked + disdainfully at the phantom of Captain H. C. Jorgenson, Barque Wild Rose, + wandering on the silent quay or standing still for hours at the edge of + the sombre roadstead speckled by the anchor lights of ships—an + adventurous soul longing to recross the waters of oblivion. + </p> + <p> + The sampan-men, sculling lazily homeward past the black hull of the brig + at anchor, could hear far into the night the drawl of the New England + voice escaping through the lifted panes of the cabin skylight. Snatches of + nasal sentences floated in the stillness around the still craft. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, siree! Mexican war rifles—good as new—six in a case—my + people in Baltimore—that's so. Hundred and twenty rounds thrown in + for each specimen—marked to suit your requirements. Suppose—musical + instruments, this side up with care—how's that for your taste? No, + no! Cash down—my people in Balt—Shooting sea-gulls you say? + Waal! It's a risky business—see here—ten per cent. discount—it's + out of my own pocket—” + </p> + <p> + As time wore on, and nothing happened, at least nothing that one could + hear of, the excitement died out. Lingard's new attitude was accepted as + only “his way.” There was nothing in it, maintained some. Others + dissented. A good deal of curiosity, however, remained and the faint + rumour of something big being in preparation followed him into every + harbour he went to, from Rangoon to Hongkong. + </p> + <p> + He felt nowhere so much at home as when his brig was anchored on the inner + side of the great stretch of shoals. The centre of his life had shifted + about four hundred miles—from the Straits of Malacca to the Shore of + Refuge—and when there he felt himself within the circle of another + existence, governed by his impulse, nearer his desire. Hassim and Immada + would come down to the coast and wait for him on the islet. He always left + them with regret. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the first stage in each trip, Jorgenson waited for him at + the top of the boat-stairs and without a word fell into step at his elbow. + They seldom exchanged three words in a day; but one evening about six + months before Lingard's last trip, as they were crossing the short bridge + over the canal where native craft lie moored in clusters, Jorgenson + lengthened his stride and came abreast. It was a moonlight night and + nothing stirred on earth but the shadows of high clouds. Lingard took off + his hat and drew in a long sigh in the tepid breeze. Jorgenson spoke + suddenly in a cautious tone: “The new Rajah Tulla smokes opium and is + sometimes dangerous to speak to. There is a lot of discontent in Wajo + amongst the big people.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Good!” whispered Lingard, excitedly, off his guard for once. Then—“How + the devil do you know anything about it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson pointed at the mass of praus, coasting boats, and sampans that, + jammed up together in the canal, lay covered with mats and flooded by the + cold moonlight with here and there a dim lantern burning amongst the + confusion of high sterns, spars, masts and lowered sails. + </p> + <p> + “There!” he said, as they moved on, and their hatted and clothed shadows + fell heavily on the queer-shaped vessels that carry the fortunes of brown + men upon a shallow sea. “There! I can sit with them, I can talk to them, I + can come and go as I like. They know me now—it's time-thirty-five + years. Some of them give a plate of rice and a bit of fish to the white + man. That's all I get—after thirty-five years—given up to + them.” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a time. + </p> + <p> + “I was like you once,” he added, and then laying his hand on Lingard's + sleeve, murmured—“Are you very deep in this thing?” + </p> + <p> + “To the very last cent,” said Lingard, quietly, and looking straight + before him. + </p> + <p> + The glitter of the roadstead went out, and the masts of anchored ships + vanished in the invading shadow of a cloud. + </p> + <p> + “Drop it,” whispered Jorgenson. + </p> + <p> + “I am in debt,” said Lingard, slowly, and stood still. + </p> + <p> + “Drop it!” + </p> + <p> + “Never dropped anything in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Drop it!” + </p> + <p> + “By God, I won't!” cried Lingard, stamping his foot. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + “I was like you—once,” repeated Jorgenson. “Five and thirty years—never + dropped anything. And what you can do is only child's play to some jobs I + have had on my hands—understand that—great man as you are, + Captain Lingard of the Lightning. . . . You should have seen the Wild + Rose,” he added with a sudden break in his voice. + </p> + <p> + Lingard leaned over the guard-rail of the pier. Jorgenson came closer. + </p> + <p> + “I set fire to her with my own hands!” he said in a vibrating tone and + very low, as if making a monstrous confession. + </p> + <p> + “Poor devil,” muttered Lingard, profoundly moved by the tragic enormity of + the act. “I suppose there was no way out?” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't going to let her rot to pieces in some Dutch port,” said + Jorgenson, gloomily. “Did you ever hear of Dawson?” + </p> + <p> + “Something—I don't remember now—” muttered Lingard, who felt a + chill down his back at the idea of his own vessel decaying slowly in some + Dutch port. “He died—didn't he?” he asked, absently, while he + wondered whether he would have the pluck to set fire to the brig—on + an emergency. + </p> + <p> + “Cut his throat on the beach below Fort Rotterdam,” said Jorgenson. His + gaunt figure wavered in the unsteady moonshine as though made of mist. + “Yes. He broke some trade regulation or other and talked big about + law-courts and legal trials to the lieutenant of the Komet. 'Certainly,' + says the hound. 'Jurisdiction of Macassar, I will take your schooner + there.' Then coming into the roads he tows her full tilt on a ledge of + rocks on the north side—smash! When she was half full of water he + takes his hat off to Dawson. 'There's the shore,' says he—'go and + get your legal trial, you—Englishman—'” He lifted a long arm + and shook his fist at the moon which dodged suddenly behind a cloud. “All + was lost. Poor Dawson walked the streets for months barefooted and in + rags. Then one day he begged a knife from some charitable soul, went down + to take a last look at the wreck, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't interfere with the Dutch,” interrupted Lingard, impatiently. “I + want Hassim to get back his own—” + </p> + <p> + “And suppose the Dutch want the things just so,” returned Jorgenson. + “Anyway there is a devil in such work—drop it!” + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” said Lingard, “I took these people off when they were in + their last ditch. That means something. I ought not to have meddled and it + would have been all over in a few hours. I must have meant something when + I interfered, whether I knew it or not. I meant it then—and did not + know it. Very well. I mean it now—and do know it. When you save + people from death you take a share in their life. That's how I look at + it.” + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Foolishness!” he cried, then asked softly in a voice that trembled with + curiosity—“Where did you leave them?” + </p> + <p> + “With Belarab,” breathed out Lingard. “You knew him in the old days.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew him, I knew his father,” burst out the other in an excited + whisper. “Whom did I not know? I knew Sentot when he was King of the South + Shore of Java and the Dutch offered a price for his head—enough to + make any man's fortune. He slept twice on board the Wild Rose when things + had begun to go wrong with him. I knew him, I knew all his chiefs, the + priests, the fighting men, the old regent who lost heart and went over to + the Dutch, I knew—” he stammered as if the words could not come out, + gave it up and sighed—“Belarab's father escaped with me,” he began + again, quietly, “and joined the Padris in Sumatra. He rose to be a great + leader. Belarab was a youth then. Those were the times. I ranged the coast—and + laughed at the cruisers; I saw every battle fought in the Battak country—and + I saw the Dutch run; I was at the taking of Singal and escaped. I was the + white man who advised the chiefs of Manangkabo. There was a lot about me + in the Dutch papers at the time. They said I was a Frenchman turned + Mohammedan—” he swore a great oath, and, reeling against the + guard-rail, panted, muttering curses on newspapers. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Belarab has the job in hand,” said Lingard, composedly. “He is the + chief man on the Shore of Refuge. There are others, of course. He has sent + messages north and south. We must have men.” + </p> + <p> + “All the devils unchained,” said Jorgenson. “You have done it and now—look + out—look out. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can go wrong as far as I can see,” argued Lingard. “They all know + what's to be done. I've got them in hand. You don't think Belarab unsafe? + Do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't seen him for fifteen years—but the whole thing's unsafe,” + growled Jorgenson. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I've fixed it so that nothing can go wrong. It would be better + if I had a white man over there to look after things generally. There is a + good lot of stores and arms—and Belarab would bear watching—no + doubt. Are you in any want?” he added, putting his hand in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “No, there's plenty to eat in the house,” answered Jorgenson, curtly. + “Drop it,” he burst out. “It would be better for you to jump overboard at + once. Look at me. I came out a boy of eighteen. I can speak English, I can + speak Dutch, I can speak every cursed lingo of these islands—I + remember things that would make your hair stand on end—but I have + forgotten the language of my own country. I've traded, I've fought, I + never broke my word to white or native. And, look at me. If it hadn't been + for the girl I would have died in a ditch ten years ago. Everything left + me—youth, money, strength, hope—the very sleep. But she stuck + by the wreck.” + </p> + <p> + “That says a lot for her and something for you,” said Lingard, cheerily. + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “That's the worst of all,” he said with slow emphasis. “That's the end. I + came to them from the other side of the earth and they took me and—see + what they made of me.” + </p> + <p> + “What place do you belong to?” asked Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Tromso,” groaned out Jorgenson; “I will never see snow again,” he sobbed + out, his face in his hands. + </p> + <p> + Lingard looked at him in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Would you come with me?” he said. “As I told you, I am in want of a—” + </p> + <p> + “I would see you damned first!” broke out the other, savagely. “I am an + old white loafer, but you don't get me to meddle in their infernal + affairs. They have a devil of their own—” + </p> + <p> + “The thing simply can't fail. I've calculated every move. I've guarded + against everything. I am no fool.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—you are. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, good-bye,” said Lingard, calmly. + </p> + <p> + He stepped into his boat, and Jorgenson walked up the jetty. Lingard, + clearing the yoke lines, heard him call out from a distance: + </p> + <p> + “Drop it!” + </p> + <p> + “I sail before sunrise,” he shouted in answer, and went on board. + </p> + <p> + When he came up from his cabin after an uneasy night, it was dark yet. A + lank figure strolled across the deck. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am,” said Jorgenson, huskily. “Die there or here—all one. + But, if I die there, remember the girl must eat.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard was one of the few who had seen Jorgenson's girl. She had a + wrinkled brown face, a lot of tangled grey hair, a few black stumps of + teeth, and had been married to him lately by an enterprising young + missionary from Bukit Timah. What her appearance might have been once when + Jorgenson gave for her three hundred dollars and several brass guns, it + was impossible to say. All that was left of her youth was a pair of eyes, + undimmed and mournful, which, when she was alone, seemed to look stonily + into the past of two lives. When Jorgenson was near they followed his + movements with anxious pertinacity. And now within the sarong thrown over + the grey head they were dropping unseen tears while Jorgenson's girl + rocked herself to and fro, squatting alone in a corner of the dark hut. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you worry about that,” said Lingard, grasping Jorgenson's hand. + “She shall want for nothing. All I expect you to do is to look a little + after Belarab's morals when I am away. One more trip I must make, and then + we shall be ready to go ahead. I've foreseen every single thing. Trust + me!” + </p> + <p> + In this way did the restless shade of Captain H. C. Jorgenson recross the + water of oblivion to step back into the life of men. + </p> + <p> + VI + </p> + <p> + For two years, Lingard, who had thrown himself body and soul into the + great enterprise, had lived in the long intoxication of slowly preparing + success. No thought of failure had crossed his mind, and no price appeared + too heavy to pay for such a magnificent achievement. It was nothing less + than bringing Hassim triumphantly back to that country seen once at night + under the low clouds and in the incessant tumult of thunder. When at the + conclusion of some long talk with Hassim, who for the twentieth time + perhaps had related the story of his wrongs and his struggle, he lifted + his big arm and shaking his fist above his head, shouted: “We will stir + them up. We will wake up the country!” he was, without knowing it in the + least, making a complete confession of the idealism hidden under the + simplicity of his strength. He would wake up the country! That was the + fundamental and unconscious emotion on which were engrafted his need of + action, the primitive sense of what was due to justice, to gratitude, to + friendship, the sentimental pity for the hard lot of Immada—poor + child—the proud conviction that of all the men in the world, in his + world, he alone had the means and the pluck “to lift up the big end” of + such an adventure. + </p> + <p> + Money was wanted and men were wanted, and he had obtained enough of both + in two years from that day when, pistols in his belt and a cabbage-leaf + hat on head, he had unexpectedly, and at early dawn, confronted in perfect + silence that mysterious Belarab, who himself was for a moment too + astounded for speech at the sight of a white face. + </p> + <p> + The sun had not yet cleared the forests of the interior, but a sky already + full of light arched over a dark oval lagoon, over wide fields as yet full + of shadows, that seemed slowly changing into the whiteness of the morning + mist. There were huts, fences, palisades, big houses that, erected on + lofty piles, were seen above the tops of clustered fruit trees, as if + suspended in the air. + </p> + <p> + Such was the aspect of Belarab's settlement when Lingard set his eyes on + it for the first time. There were all these things, a great number of + faces at the back of the spare and muffled-up figure confronting him, and + in the swiftly increasing light a complete stillness that made the murmur + of the word “Marhaba” (welcome), pronounced at last by the chief, + perfectly audible to every one of his followers. The bodyguards who stood + about him in black skull-caps and with long-shafted lances, preserved an + impassive aspect. Across open spaces men could be seen running to the + waterside. A group of women standing on a low knoll gazed intently, and + nothing of them but the heads showed above the unstirring stalks of a + maize field. Suddenly within a cluster of empty huts near by the voice of + an invisible hag was heard scolding with shrill fury an invisible young + girl: + </p> + <p> + “Strangers! You want to see the strangers? O devoid of all decency! Must I + so lame and old husk the rice alone? May evil befall thee and the + strangers! May they never find favour! May they be pursued with swords! I + am old. I am old. There is no good in strangers! O girl! May they burn.” + </p> + <p> + “Welcome,” repeated Belarab, gravely, and looking straight into Lingard's + eyes. + </p> + <p> + Lingard spent six days that time in Belarab's settlement. Of these, three + were passed in observing each other without a question being asked or a + hint given as to the object in view. Lingard lounged on the fine mats with + which the chief had furnished a small bamboo house outside a fortified + enclosure, where a white flag with a green border fluttered on a high and + slender pole but still below the walls of long, high-roofed buildings, + raised forty feet or more on hard-wood posts. + </p> + <p> + Far away the inland forests were tinted a shimmering blue, like the + forests of a dream. On the seaward side the belt of great trunks and + matted undergrowth came to the western shore of the oval lagoon; and in + the pure freshness of the air the groups of brown houses reflected in the + water or seen above the waving green of the fields, the clumps of palm + trees, the fenced-in plantations, the groves of fruit trees, made up a + picture of sumptuous prosperity. + </p> + <p> + Above the buildings, the men, the women, the still sheet of water and the + great plain of crops glistening with dew, stretched the exalted, the + miraculous peace of a cloudless sky. And no road seemed to lead into this + country of splendour and stillness. One could not believe the unquiet sea + was so near, with its gifts and its unending menace. Even during the + months of storms, the great clamour rising from the whitened expanse of + the Shallows dwelt high in the air in a vast murmur, now feeble now + stronger, that seemed to swing back and forth on the wind above the earth + without any one being able to tell whence it came. It was like the solemn + chant of a waterfall swelling and dying away above the woods, the fields, + above the roofs of houses and the heads of men, above the secret peace of + that hidden and flourishing settlement of vanquished fanatics, fugitives, + and outcasts. + </p> + <p> + Every afternoon Belarab, followed by an escort that stopped outside the + door, entered alone the house of his guest. He gave the salutation, + inquired after his health, conversed about insignificant things with an + inscrutable mien. But all the time the steadfast gaze of his thoughtful + eyes seemed to seek the truth within that white face. In the cool of the + evening, before the sun had set, they talked together, passing and + repassing between the rugged pillars of the grove near the gate of the + stockade. The escort away in the oblique sunlight, followed with their + eyes the strolling figures appearing and vanishing behind the trees. Many + words were pronounced, but nothing was said that would disclose the + thoughts of the two men. They clasped hands demonstratively before + separating, and the heavy slam of the gate was followed by the triple thud + of the wooden bars dropped into iron clamps. + </p> + <p> + On the third night, Lingard was awakened from a light sleep by the sound + of whispering outside. A black shadow obscured the stars in the doorway, + and a man entering suddenly, stood above his couch while another could be + seen squatting—a dark lump on the threshold of the hut. + </p> + <p> + “Fear not. I am Belarab,” said a cautious voice. + </p> + <p> + “I was not afraid,” whispered Lingard. “It is the man coming in the dark + and without warning who is in danger.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you not come to me without warning? I said 'welcome'—it was + as easy for me to say 'kill him.'” + </p> + <p> + “You were within reach of my arm. We would have died together,” retorted + Lingard, quietly. + </p> + <p> + The other clicked his tongue twice, and his indistinct shape seemed to + sink half-way through the floor. + </p> + <p> + “It was not written thus before we were born,” he said, sitting + cross-legged near the mats, and in a deadened voice. “Therefore you are my + guest. Let the talk between us be straight like the shaft of a spear and + shorter than the remainder of this night. What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “First, your long life,” answered Lingard, leaning forward toward the + gleam of a pair of eyes, “and then—your help.” + </p> + <p> + VII + </p> + <p> + The faint murmur of the words spoken on that night lingered for a long + time in Lingard's ears, more persistent than the memory of an uproar; he + looked with a fixed gaze at the stars burning peacefully in the square of + the doorway, while after listening in silence to all he had to say, + Belarab, as if seduced by the strength and audacity of the white man, + opened his heart without reserve. He talked of his youth surrounded by the + fury of fanaticism and war, of battles on the hills, of advances through + the forests, of men's unswerving piety, of their unextinguishable hate. + Not a single wandering cloud obscured the gentle splendour of the + rectangular patch of starlight framed in the opaque blackness of the hut. + Belarab murmured on of a succession of reverses, of the ring of disasters + narrowing round men's fading hopes and undiminished courage. He whispered + of defeat and flight, of the days of despair, of the nights without sleep, + of unending pursuit, of the bewildered horror and sombre fury, of their + women and children killed in the stockade before the besieged sallied + forth to die. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen all this before I was in years a man,” he cried, low. + </p> + <p> + His voice vibrated. In the pause that succeeded they heard a light sigh of + the sleeping follower who, clasping his legs above his ankles, rested his + forehead on his knees. + </p> + <p> + “And there was amongst us,” began Belarab again, “one white man who + remained to the end, who was faithful with his strength, with his courage, + with his wisdom. A great man. He had great riches but a greater heart.” + </p> + <p> + The memory of Jorgenson, emaciated and grey-haired, and trying to borrow + five dollars to get something to eat for the girl, passed before Lingard + suddenly upon the pacific glitter of the stars. + </p> + <p> + “He resembled you,” pursued Belarab, abruptly. “We escaped with him, and + in his ship came here. It was a solitude. The forest came near to the + sheet of water, the rank grass waved upon the heads of tall men. Telal, my + father, died of weariness; we were only a few, and we all nearly died of + trouble and sadness—here. On this spot! And no enemies could tell + where we had gone. It was the Shore of Refuge—and starvation.” + </p> + <p> + He droned on in the night, with rising and falling inflections. He told + how his desperate companions wanted to go out and die fighting on the sea + against the ships from the west, the ships with high sides and white + sails; and how, unflinching and alone, he kept them battling with the + thorny bush, with the rank grass, with the soaring and enormous trees. + Lingard, leaning on his elbow and staring through the door, recalled the + image of the wide fields outside, sleeping now, in an immensity of + serenity and starlight. This quiet and almost invisible talker had done it + all; in him was the origin, the creation, the fate; and in the wonder of + that thought the shadowy murmuring figure acquired a gigantic greatness of + significance, as if it had been the embodiment of some natural force, of a + force forever masterful and undying. + </p> + <p> + “And even now my life is unsafe as if I were their enemy,” said Belarab, + mournfully. “Eyes do not kill, nor angry words; and curses have no power, + else the Dutch would not grow fat living on our land, and I would not be + alive to-night. Do you understand? Have you seen the men who fought in the + old days? They have not forgotten the times of war. I have given them + homes and quiet hearts and full bellies. I alone. And they curse my name + in the dark, in each other's ears—because they can never forget.” + </p> + <p> + This man, whose talk had been of war and violence, discovered unexpectedly + a passionate craving for security and peace. No one would understand him. + Some of those who would not understand had died. His white teeth gleamed + cruelly in the dark. But there were others he could not kill. The fools. + He wanted the land and the people in it to be forgotten as if they had + been swallowed by the sea. But they had neither wisdom nor patience. Could + they not wait? They chanted prayers five times every day, but they had not + the faith. + </p> + <p> + “Death comes to all—and to the believers the end of trouble. But you + white men who are too strong for us, you also die. You die. And there is a + Paradise as great as all earth and all Heaven together, but not for you—not + for you!” + </p> + <p> + Lingard, amazed, listened without a sound. The sleeper snored faintly. + Belarab continued very calm after this almost involuntary outburst of a + consoling belief. He explained that he wanted somebody at his back, + somebody strong and whom he could trust, some outside force that would awe + the unruly, that would inspire their ignorance with fear, and make his + rule secure. He groped in the dark and seizing Lingard's arm above the + elbow pressed it with force—then let go. And Lingard understood why + his temerity had been so successful. + </p> + <p> + Then and there, in return for Lingard's open support, a few guns and a + little money, Belarab promised his help for the conquest of Wajo. There + was no doubt he could find men who would fight. He could send messages to + friends at a distance and there were also many unquiet spirits in his own + district ready for any adventure. He spoke of these men with fierce + contempt and an angry tenderness, in mingled accents of envy and disdain. + He was wearied by their folly, by their recklessness, by their impatience—and + he seemed to resent these as if they had been gifts of which he himself + had been deprived by the fatality of his wisdom. They would fight. When + the time came Lingard had only to speak, and a sign from him would send + them to a vain death—those men who could not wait for an opportunity + on this earth or for the eternal revenge of Heaven. + </p> + <p> + He ceased, and towered upright in the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “Awake!” he exclaimed, low, bending over the sleeping man. + </p> + <p> + Their black shapes, passing in turn, eclipsed for two successive moments + the glitter of the stars, and Lingard, who had not stirred, remained + alone. He lay back full length with an arm thrown across his eyes. + </p> + <p> + When three days afterward he left Belarab's settlement, it was on a calm + morning of unclouded peace. All the boats of the brig came up into the + lagoon armed and manned to make more impressive the solemn fact of a + concluded alliance. A staring crowd watched his imposing departure in + profound silence and with an increased sense of wonder at the mystery of + his apparition. The progress of the boats was smooth and slow while they + crossed the wide lagoon. Lingard looked back once. A great stillness had + laid its hand over the earth, the sky, and the men; upon the immobility of + landscape and people. Hassim and Immada, standing out clearly by the side + of the chief, raised their arms in a last salutation; and the distant + gesture appeared sad, futile, lost in space, like a sign of distress made + by castaways in the vain hope of an impossible help. + </p> + <p> + He departed, he returned, he went away again, and each time those two + figures, lonely on some sandbank of the Shallows, made at him the same + futile sign of greeting or good-bye. Their arms at each movement seemed to + draw closer around his heart the bonds of a protecting affection. He + worked prosaically, earning money to pay the cost of the romantic + necessity that had invaded his life. And the money ran like water out of + his hands. The owner of the New England voice remitted not a little of it + to his people in Baltimore. But import houses in the ports of the Far East + had their share. It paid for a fast prau which, commanded by Jaffir, + sailed into unfrequented bays and up unexplored rivers, carrying secret + messages, important news, generous bribes. A good part of it went to the + purchase of the Emma. + </p> + <p> + The Emma was a battered and decrepit old schooner that, in the decline of + her existence, had been much ill-used by a paunchy white trader of cunning + and gluttonous aspect. This man boasted outrageously afterward of the good + price he had got “for that rotten old hooker of mine—you know.” The + Emma left port mysteriously in company with the brig and henceforth + vanished from the seas forever. Lingard had her towed up the creek and ran + her aground upon that shore of the lagoon farthest from Belarab's + settlement. There had been at that time a great rise of waters, which + retiring soon after left the old craft cradled in the mud, with her bows + grounded high between the trunks of two big trees, and leaning over a + little as though after a hard life she had settled wearily to an + everlasting rest. There, a few months later, Jorgenson found her when, + called back into the life of men, he reappeared, together with Lingard, in + the Land of Refuge. + </p> + <p> + “She is better than a fort on shore,” said Lingard, as side by side they + leant over the taffrail, looking across the lagoon on the houses and palm + groves of the settlement. “All the guns and powder I have got together so + far are stored in her. Good idea, wasn't it? There will be, perhaps, no + other such flood for years, and now they can't come alongside unless right + under the counter, and only one boat at a time. I think you are perfectly + safe here; you could keep off a whole fleet of boats; she isn't easy to + set fire to; the forest in front is better than a wall. Well?” + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson assented in grunts. He looked at the desolate emptiness of the + decks, at the stripped spars, at the dead body of the dismantled little + vessel that would know the life of the seas no more. The gloom of the + forest fell on her, mournful like a winding sheet. The bushes of the bank + tapped their twigs on the bluff of her bows, and a pendent spike of tiny + brown blossoms swung to and fro over the ruins of her windlass. + </p> + <p> + Hassim's companions garrisoned the old hulk, and Jorgenson, left in + charge, prowled about from stem to stern, taciturn and anxiously faithful + to his trust. He had been received with astonishment, respect—and + awe. Belarab visited him often. Sometimes those whom he had known in their + prime years ago, during a struggle for faith and life, would come to talk + with the white man. Their voices were like the echoes of stirring events, + in the pale glamour of a youth gone by. They nodded their old heads. Do + you remember?—they said. He remembered only too well! He was like a + man raised from the dead, for whom the fascinating trust in the power of + life is tainted by the black scepticism of the grave. + </p> + <p> + Only at times the invincible belief in the reality of existence would come + back, insidious and inspiring. He squared his shoulders, held himself + straight, and walked with a firmer step. He felt a glow within him and the + quickened beat of his heart. Then he calculated in silent excitement + Lingard's chances of success, and he lived for a time with the life of + that other man who knew nothing of the black scepticism of the grave. The + chances were good, very good. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to see it through,” Jorgenson muttered to himself ardently; + and his lustreless eyes would flash for a moment. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART3" id="link2H_PART3"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART III. THE CAPTURE + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + “Some people,” said Lingard, “go about the world with their eyes shut. You + are right. The sea is free to all of us. Some work on it, and some play + the fool on it—and I don't care. Only you may take it from me that I + will let no man's play interfere with my work. You want me to understand + you are a very great man—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers smiled, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” continued Lingard, “I understand that well enough. But remember + you are very far from home, while I, here, I am where I belong. And I + belong where I am. I am just Tom Lingard, no more, no less, wherever I + happen to be, and—you may ask—” A sweep of his hand along the + western horizon entrusted with perfect confidence the remainder of his + speech to the dumb testimony of the sea. + </p> + <p> + He had been on board the yacht for more than an hour, and nothing, for + him, had come of it but the birth of an unreasoning hate. To the + unconscious demand of these people's presence, of their ignorance, of + their faces, of their voices, of their eyes, he had nothing to give but a + resentment that had in it a germ of reckless violence. He could tell them + nothing because he had not the means. Their coming at this moment, when he + had wandered beyond that circle which race, memories, early associations, + all the essential conditions of one's origin, trace round every man's + life, deprived him in a manner of the power of speech. He was confounded. + It was like meeting exacting spectres in a desert. + </p> + <p> + He stared at the open sea, his arms crossed, with a reflective fierceness. + His very appearance made him utterly different from everyone on board that + vessel. The grey shirt, the blue sash, one rolled-up sleeve baring a + sculptural forearm, the negligent masterfulness of his tone and pose were + very distasteful to Mr. Travers, who, having made up his mind to wait for + some kind of official assistance, regarded the intrusion of that + inexplicable man with suspicion. From the moment Lingard came on board the + yacht, every eye in that vessel had been fixed upon him. Only Carter, + within earshot and leaning with his elbow upon the rail, stared down at + the deck as if overcome with drowsiness or lost in thought. + </p> + <p> + Of the three other persons aft, Mr. Travers kept his hands in the side + pockets of his jacket and did not conceal his growing disgust. + </p> + <p> + On the other side of the deck, a lady, in a long chair, had a passive + attitude that to Mr. d'Alcacer, standing near her, seemed characteristic + of the manner in which she accepted the necessities of existence. Years + before, as an attache of his Embassy in London, he had found her an + interesting hostess. She was even more interesting now, since a chance + meeting and Mr. Travers' offer of a passage to Batavia had given him an + opportunity of studying the various shades of scorn which he suspected to + be the secret of her acquiescence in the shallowness of events and the + monotony of a worldly existence. + </p> + <p> + There were things that from the first he had not been able to understand; + for instance, why she should have married Mr. Travers. It must have been + from ambition. He could not help feeling that such a successful mistake + would explain completely her scorn and also her acquiescence. The meeting + in Manila had been utterly unexpected to him, and he accounted for it to + his uncle, the Governor-General of the colony, by pointing out that + Englishmen, when worsted in the struggle of love or politics, travel + extensively, as if by encompassing a large portion of earth's surface they + hoped to gather fresh strength for a renewed contest. As to himself, he + judged—but did not say—that his contest with fate was ended, + though he also travelled, leaving behind him in the capitals of Europe a + story in which there was nothing scandalous but the publicity of an + excessive feeling, and nothing more tragic than the early death of a woman + whose brilliant perfections were no better known to the great world than + the discreet and passionate devotion she had innocently inspired. + </p> + <p> + The invitation to join the yacht was the culminating point of many + exchanged civilities, and was mainly prompted by Mr. Travers' desire to + have somebody to talk to. D'Alcacer had accepted with the reckless + indifference of a man to whom one method of flight from a relentless enemy + is as good as another. Certainly the prospect of listening to long + monologues on commerce, administration, and politics did not promise much + alleviation to his sorrow; and he could not expect much else from Mr. + Travers, whose life and thought, ignorant of human passion, were devoted + to extracting the greatest possible amount of personal advantage from + human institutions. D'Alcacer found, however, that he could attain a + measure of forgetfulness—the most precious thing for him now—in + the society of Edith Travers. + </p> + <p> + She had awakened his curiosity, which he thought nothing and nobody on + earth could do any more. + </p> + <p> + These two talked of things indifferent and interesting, certainly not + connected with human institutions, and only very slightly with human + passions; but d'Alcacer could not help being made aware of her latent + capacity for sympathy developed in those who are disenchanted with life or + death. How far she was disenchanted he did not know, and did not attempt + to find out. This restraint was imposed upon him by the chivalrous respect + he had for the secrets of women and by a conviction that deep feeling is + often impenetrably obscure, even to those it masters for their inspiration + or their ruin. He believed that even she herself would never know; but his + grave curiosity was satisfied by the observation of her mental state, and + he was not sorry that the stranding of the yacht prolonged his + opportunity. + </p> + <p> + Time passed on that mudbank as well as anywhere else, and it was not from + a multiplicity of events, but from the lapse of time alone, that he + expected relief. Yet in the sameness of days upon the Shallows, time + flowing ceaselessly, flowed imperceptibly; and, since every man clings to + his own, be it joy, be it grief, he was pleased after the unrest of his + wanderings to be able to fancy the whole universe and even time itself + apparently come to a standstill; as if unwilling to take him away further + from his sorrow, which was fading indeed but undiminished, as things fade, + not in the distance but in the mist. + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer was a man of nearly forty, lean and sallow, with hollow eyes and + a drooping brown moustache. His gaze was penetrating and direct, his smile + frequent and fleeting. He observed Lingard with great interest. He was + attracted by that elusive something—a line, a fold, perhaps the form + of the eye, the droop of an eyelid, the curve of a cheek, that trifling + trait which on no two faces on earth is alike, that in each face is the + very foundation of expression, as if, all the rest being heredity, + mystery, or accident, it alone had been shaped consciously by the soul + within. + </p> + <p> + Now and then he bent slightly over the slow beat of a red fan in the curve + of the deck chair to say a few words to Mrs. Travers, who answered him + without looking up, without a modulation of tone or a play of feature, as + if she had spoken from behind the veil of an immense indifference + stretched between her and all men, between her heart and the meaning of + events, between her eyes and the shallow sea which, like her gaze, + appeared profound, forever stilled, and seemed, far off in the distance of + a faint horizon, beyond the reach of eye, beyond the power of hand or + voice, to lose itself in the sky. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers stepped aside, and speaking to Carter, overwhelmed him with + reproaches. + </p> + <p> + “You misunderstood your instructions,” murmured Mr. Travers rapidly. “Why + did you bring this man here? I am surprised—” + </p> + <p> + “Not half so much as I was last night,” growled the young seaman, without + any reverence in his tone, very provoking to Mr. Travers. + </p> + <p> + “I perceive now you were totally unfit for the mission I entrusted you + with,” went on the owner of the yacht. + </p> + <p> + “It's he who got hold of me,” said Carter. “Haven't you heard him + yourself, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” whispered Mr. Travers, angrily. “Have you any idea what his + intentions may be?” + </p> + <p> + “I half believe,” answered Carter, “that his intention was to shoot me in + his cabin last night if I—” + </p> + <p> + “That's not the point,” interrupted Mr. Travers. “Have you any opinion as + to his motives in coming here?” + </p> + <p> + Carter raised his weary, bloodshot eyes in a face scarlet and peeling as + though it had been licked by a flame. “I know no more than you do, sir. + Last night when he had me in that cabin of his, he said he would just as + soon shoot me as let me go to look for any other help. It looks as if he + were desperately bent upon getting a lot of salvage money out of a + stranded yacht.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers turned away, and, for a moment, appeared immersed in deep + thought. This accident of stranding upon a deserted coast was annoying as + a loss of time. He tried to minimize it by putting in order the notes + collected during the year's travel in the East. He had sent off for + assistance; his sailing-master, very crestfallen, made bold to say that + the yacht would most likely float at the next spring tides; d'Alcacer, a + person of undoubted nobility though of inferior principles, was better + than no company, in so far at least that he could play picquet. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers had made up his mind to wait. Then suddenly this rough man, + looking as if he had stepped out from an engraving in a book about + buccaneers, broke in upon his resignation with mysterious allusions to + danger, which sounded absurd yet were disturbing; with dark and warning + sentences that sounded like disguised menaces. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers had a heavy and rather long chin which he shaved. His eyes + were blue, a chill, naive blue. He faced Lingard untouched by travel, + without a mark of weariness or exposure, with the air of having been born + invulnerable. He had a full, pale face; and his complexion was perfectly + colourless, yet amazingly fresh, as if he had been reared in the shade. + </p> + <p> + He thought: + </p> + <p> + “I must put an end to this preposterous hectoring. I won't be intimidated + into paying for services I don't need.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers felt a strong disgust for the impudence of the attempt; and + all at once, incredibly, strangely, as though the thing, like a contest + with a rival or a friend, had been of profound importance to his career, + he felt inexplicably elated at the thought of defeating the secret + purposes of that man. + </p> + <p> + Lingard, unconscious of everything and everybody, contemplated the sea. He + had grown on it, he had lived with it; it had enticed him away from home; + on it his thoughts had expanded and his hand had found work to do. It had + suggested endeavour, it had made him owner and commander of the finest + brig afloat; it had lulled him into a belief in himself, in his strength, + in his luck—and suddenly, by its complicity in a fatal accident, it + had brought him face to face with a difficulty that looked like the + beginning of disaster. + </p> + <p> + He had said all he dared to say—and he perceived that he was not + believed. This had not happened to him for years. It had never happened. + It bewildered him as if he had suddenly discovered that he was no longer + himself. He had come to them and had said: “I mean well by you. I am Tom + Lingard—” and they did not believe! Before such scepticism he was + helpless, because he had never imagined it possible. He had said: “You are + in the way of my work. You are in the way of what I can not give up for + any one; but I will see you through all safe if you will only trust me—me, + Tom Lingard.” And they would not believe him! It was intolerable. He + imagined himself sweeping their disbelief out of his way. And why not? He + did not know them, he did not care for them, he did not even need to lift + his hand against them! All he had to do was to shut his eyes now for a day + or two, and afterward he could forget that he had ever seen them. It would + be easy. Let their disbelief vanish, their folly disappear, their bodies + perish. . . . It was that—or ruin! + </p> + <p> + III + </p> + <p> + Lingard's gaze, detaching itself from the silent sea, travelled slowly + over the silent figures clustering forward, over the faces of the seamen + attentive and surprised, over the faces never seen before yet suggesting + old days—his youth—other seas—the distant shores of + early memories. Mr. Travers gave a start also, and the hand which had been + busy with his left whisker went into the pocket of his jacket, as though + he had plucked out something worth keeping. He made a quick step toward + Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see my way to utilize your services,” he said, with cold + finality. + </p> + <p> + Lingard, grasping his beard, looked down at him thoughtfully for a short + time. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it's just as well,” he said, very slowly, “because I did not + offer my services. I've offered to take you on board my brig for a few + days, as your only chance of safety. And you asked me what were my + motives. My motives! If you don't see them they are not for you to know.” + </p> + <p> + And these men who, two hours before had never seen each other, stood for a + moment close together, antagonistic, as if they had been life-long + enemies, one short, dapper and glaring upward, the other towering heavily, + and looking down in contempt and anger. + </p> + <p> + Mr. d'Alcacer, without taking his eyes off them, bent low over the deck + chair. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever seen a man dashing himself at a stone wall?” he asked, + confidentially. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mrs. Travers, gazing straight before her above the slow flutter + of the fan. “No, I did not know it was ever done; men burrow under or slip + round quietly while they look the other way.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you define diplomacy,” murmured d'Alcacer. “A little of it here would + do no harm. But our picturesque visitor has none of it. I've a great + liking for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Already!” breathed out Mrs. Travers, with a smile that touched her lips + with its bright wing and was flown almost before it could be seen. + </p> + <p> + “There is liking at first sight,” affirmed d'Alcacer, “as well as love at + first sight—the coup de foudre—you know.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up for a moment, and he went on, gravely: “I think it is the + truest, the most profound of sentiments. You do not love because of what + is in the other. You love because of something that is in you—something + alive—in yourself.” He struck his breast lightly with the tip of one + finger. “A capacity in you. And not everyone may have it—not + everyone deserves to be touched by fire from heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “And die,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He made a slight movement. + </p> + <p> + “Who can tell? That is as it may be. But it is always a privilege, even if + one must live a little after being burnt.” + </p> + <p> + Through the silence between them, Mr. Travers' voice came plainly, saying + with irritation: + </p> + <p> + “I've told you already that I do not want you. I've sent a messenger to + the governor of the Straits. Don't be importunate.” + </p> + <p> + Then Lingard, standing with his back to them, growled out something which + must have exasperated Mr. Travers, because his voice was pitched higher: + </p> + <p> + “You are playing a dangerous game, I warn you. Sir John, as it happens, is + a personal friend of mine. He will send a cruiser—” and Lingard + interrupted recklessly loud: + </p> + <p> + “As long as she does not get here for the next ten days, I don't care. + Cruisers are scarce just now in the Straits; and to turn my back on you is + no hanging matter anyhow. I would risk that, and more! Do you hear? And + more!” + </p> + <p> + He stamped his foot heavily, Mr. Travers stepped back. + </p> + <p> + “You will gain nothing by trying to frighten me,” he said. “I don't know + who you are.” + </p> + <p> + Every eye in the yacht was wide open. The men, crowded upon each other, + stared stupidly like a flock of sheep. Mr. Travers pulled out a + handkerchief and passed it over his forehead. The face of the + sailing-master who leaned against the main mast—as near as he dared + to approach the gentry—was shining and crimson between white + whiskers, like a glowing coal between two patches of snow. + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer whispered: + </p> + <p> + “It is a quarrel, and the picturesque man is angry. He is hurt.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers' fan rested on her knees, and she sat still as if waiting to + hear more. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I ought to make an effort for peace?” asked d'Alcacer. + </p> + <p> + She did not answer, and after waiting a little, he insisted: + </p> + <p> + “What is your opinion? Shall I try to mediate—as a neutral, as a + benevolent neutral? I like that man with the beard.” + </p> + <p> + The interchange of angry phrases went on aloud, amidst general + consternation. + </p> + <p> + “I would turn my back on you only I am thinking of these poor devils + here,” growled Lingard, furiously. “Did you ask them how they feel about + it?” + </p> + <p> + “I ask no one,” spluttered Mr. Travers. “Everybody here depends on my + judgment.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for them then,” pronounced Lingard with sudden deliberation, + and leaning forward with his arms crossed on his breast. + </p> + <p> + At this Mr. Travers positively jumped, and forgot himself so far as to + shout: + </p> + <p> + “You are an impudent fellow. I have nothing more to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer, after muttering to himself, “This is getting serious,” made a + movement, and could not believe his ears when he heard Mrs. Travers say + rapidly with a kind of fervour: + </p> + <p> + “Don't go, pray; don't stop them. Oh! This is truth—this is anger—something + real at last.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer leaned back at once against the rail. + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Travers, with one arm extended, repeated very loudly: + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more to say. Leave my ship at once!” + </p> + <p> + And directly the black dog, stretched at his wife's feet, muzzle on paws + and blinking yellow eyes, growled discontentedly at the noise. Mrs. + Travers laughed a faint, bright laugh, that seemed to escape, to glide, to + dart between her white teeth. D'Alcacer, concealing his amazement, was + looking down at her gravely: and after a slight gasp, she said with little + bursts of merriment between every few words: + </p> + <p> + “No, but this is—such—such a fresh experience for me to hear—to + see something—genuine and human. Ah! ah! one would think they had + waited all their lives for this opportunity—ah! ah! ah! All their + lives—for this! ah! ah! ah!” + </p> + <p> + These strange words struck d'Alcacer as perfectly just, as throwing an + unexpected light. But after a smile, he said, seriously: + </p> + <p> + “This reality may go too far. A man who looks so picturesque is capable of + anything. Allow me—” And he left her side, moving toward Lingard, + loose-limbed and gaunt, yet having in his whole bearing, in his walk, in + every leisurely movement, an air of distinction and ceremony. + </p> + <p> + Lingard spun round with aggressive mien to the light touch on his + shoulder, but as soon as he took his eyes off Mr. Travers, his anger fell, + seemed to sink without a sound at his feet like a rejected garment. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” said d'Alcacer, composedly. The slight wave of his hand was + hardly more than an indication, the beginning of a conciliating gesture. + “Pardon me; but this is a matter requiring perfect confidence on both + sides. Don Martin, here, who is a person of importance. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I've spoken my mind plainly. I have said as much as I dare. On my word I + have,” declared Lingard with an air of good temper. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said d'Alcacer, reflectively, “then your reserve is a matter of + pledged faith—of—of honour?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard also appeared thoughtful for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “You may put it that way. And I owe nothing to a man who couldn't see my + hand when I put it out to him as I came aboard.” + </p> + <p> + “You have so much the advantage of us here,” replied d'Alcacer, “that you + may well be generous and forget that oversight; and then just a little + more confidence. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “My dear d'Alcacer, you are absurd,” broke in Mr. Travers, in a calm voice + but with white lips. “I did not come out all this way to shake hands + promiscuously and receive confidences from the first adventurer that comes + along.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer stepped back with an almost imperceptible inclination of the + head at Lingard, who stood for a moment with twitching face. + </p> + <p> + “I <i>am</i> an adventurer,” he burst out, “and if I hadn't been an + adventurer, I would have had to starve or work at home for such people as + you. If I weren't an adventurer, you would be most likely lying dead on + this deck with your cut throat gaping at the sky.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers waved this speech away. But others also had heard. Carter + listened watchfully and something, some alarming notion seemed to dawn all + at once upon the thick little sailing-master, who rushed on his short + legs, and tugging at Carter's sleeve, stammered desperately: + </p> + <p> + “What's he saying? Who's he? What's up? Are the natives unfriendly? My + book says—'Natives friendly all along this coast!' My book says—” + </p> + <p> + Carter, who had glanced over the side, jerked his arm free. + </p> + <p> + “You go down into the pantry, where you belong, Skipper, and read that bit + about the natives over again,” he said to his superior officer, with + savage contempt. “I'll be hanged if some of them ain't coming aboard now + to eat you—book and all. Get out of the way, and let the gentlemen + have the first chance of a row.” + </p> + <p> + Then addressing Lingard, he drawled in his old way: + </p> + <p> + “That crazy mate of yours has sent your boat back, with a couple of + visitors in her, too.” + </p> + <p> + Before he apprehended plainly the meaning of these words, Lingard caught + sight of two heads rising above the rail, the head of Hassim and the head + of Immada. Then their bodies ascended into view as though these two beings + had gradually emerged from the Shallows. They stood for a moment on the + platform looking down on the deck as if about to step into the unknown, + then descended and walking aft entered the half-light under the awning + shading the luxurious surroundings, the complicated emotions of the, to + them, inconceivable existences. + </p> + <p> + Lingard without waiting a moment cried: + </p> + <p> + “What news, O Rajah?” + </p> + <p> + Hassim's eyes made the round of the schooner's decks. He had left his gun + in the boat and advanced empty handed, with a tranquil assurance as if + bearing a welcome offering in the faint smile of his lips. Immada, half + hidden behind his shoulder, followed lightly, her elbows pressed close to + her side. The thick fringe of her eyelashes was dropped like a veil; she + looked youthful and brooding; she had an aspect of shy resolution. + </p> + <p> + They stopped within arm's length of the whites, and for some time nobody + said a word. Then Hassim gave Lingard a significant glance, and uttered + rapidly with a slight toss of the head that indicated in a manner the + whole of the yacht: + </p> + <p> + “I see no guns!” + </p> + <p> + “N—no!” said Lingard, looking suddenly confused. It had occurred to + him that for the first time in two years or more he had forgotten, utterly + forgotten, these people's existence. + </p> + <p> + Immada stood slight and rigid with downcast eyes. Hassim, at his ease, + scrutinized the faces, as if searching for elusive points of similitude or + for subtle shades of difference. + </p> + <p> + “What is this new intrusion?” asked Mr. Travers, angrily. + </p> + <p> + “These are the fisher-folk, sir,” broke in the sailing-master, “we've + observed these three days past flitting about in a canoe; but they never + had the sense to answer our hail; and yet a bit of fish for your breakfast—” + He smiled obsequiously, and all at once, without provocation, began to + bellow: + </p> + <p> + “Hey! Johnnie! Hab got fish? Fish! One peecee fish! Eh? Savee? Fish! Fish—” + He gave it up suddenly to say in a deferential tone—“Can't make them + savages understand anything, sir,” and withdrew as if after a clever feat. + </p> + <p> + Hassim looked at Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Why did the little white man make that outcry?” he asked, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Their desire is to eat fish,” said Lingard in an enraged tone. + </p> + <p> + Then before the air of extreme surprise which incontinently appeared on + the other's face, he could not restrain a short and hopeless laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Eat fish,” repeated Hassim, staring. “O you white people! O you white + people! Eat fish! Good! But why make that noise? And why did you send them + here without guns?” After a significant glance down upon the slope of the + deck caused by the vessel being on the ground, he added with a slight nod + at Lingard—“And without knowledge?” + </p> + <p> + “You should not have come here, O Hassim,” said Lingard, testily. “Here no + one understands. They take a rajah for a fisherman—” + </p> + <p> + “Ya-wa! A great mistake, for, truly, the chief of ten fugitives without a + country is much less than the headman of a fishing village,” observed + Hassim, composedly. Immada sighed. “But you, Tuan, at least know the + truth,” he went on with quiet irony; then after a pause—“We came + here because you had forgotten to look toward us, who had waited, sleeping + little at night, and in the day watching with hot eyes the empty water at + the foot of the sky for you.” + </p> + <p> + Immada murmured, without lifting her head: + </p> + <p> + “You never looked for us. Never, never once.” + </p> + <p> + “There was too much trouble in my eyes,” explained Lingard with that + patient gentleness of tone and face which, every time he spoke to the + young girl, seemed to disengage itself from his whole person, enveloping + his fierceness, softening his aspect, such as the dreamy mist that in the + early radiance of the morning weaves a veil of tender charm about a rugged + rock in mid-ocean. “I must look now to the right and to the left as in a + time of sudden danger,” he added after a moment and she whispered an + appalled “Why?” so low that its pain floated away in the silence of + attentive men, without response, unheard, ignored, like the pain of an + impalpable thought. + </p> + <p> + IV + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer, standing back, surveyed them all with a profound and alert + attention. Lingard seemed unable to tear himself away from the yacht, and + remained, checked, as it were in the act of going, like a man who has + stopped to think out the last thing to say; and that stillness of a body, + forgotten by the labouring mind, reminded Carter of that moment in the + cabin, when alone he had seen this man thus wrestling with his thought, + motionless and locked in the grip of his conscience. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers muttered audibly through his teeth: + </p> + <p> + “How long is this performance going to last? I have desired you to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Think of these poor devils,” whispered Lingard, with a quick glance at + the crew huddled up near by. + </p> + <p> + “You are the kind of man I would be least disposed to trust—in any + case,” said Mr. Travers, incisively, very low, and with an inexplicable + but very apparent satisfaction. “You are only wasting your time here.” + </p> + <p> + “You—You—” He stammered and stared. He chewed with growls some + insulting word and at last swallowed it with an effort. “My time pays for + your life,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He became aware of a sudden stir, and saw that Mrs. Travers had risen from + her chair. + </p> + <p> + She walked impulsively toward the group on the quarter-deck, making + straight for Immada. Hassim had stepped aside and his detached gaze of a + Malay gentleman passed by her as if she had been invisible. + </p> + <p> + She was tall, supple, moving freely. Her complexion was so dazzling in the + shade that it seemed to throw out a halo round her head. Upon a smooth and + wide brow an abundance of pale fair hair, fine as silk, undulating like + the sea, heavy like a helmet, descended low without a trace of gloss, + without a gleam in its coils, as though it had never been touched by a ray + of light; and a throat white, smooth, palpitating with life, a round neck + modelled with strength and delicacy, supported gloriously that radiant + face and that pale mass of hair unkissed by sunshine. + </p> + <p> + She said with animation: + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's a girl!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers extorted from d'Alcacer a fresh tribute of curiosity. A + strong puff of wind fluttered the awnings and one of the screens blowing + out wide let in upon the quarter-deck the rippling glitter of the + Shallows, showing to d'Alcacer the luminous vastness of the sea, with the + line of the distant horizon, dark like the edge of the encompassing night, + drawn at the height of Mrs. Travers' shoulder. . . . Where was it he had + seen her last—a long time before, on the other side of the world? + There was also the glitter of splendour around her then, and an impression + of luminous vastness. The encompassing night, too, was there, the night + that waits for its time to move forward upon the glitter, the splendour, + the men, the women. + </p> + <p> + He could not remember for the moment, but he became convinced that of all + the women he knew, she alone seemed to be made for action. Every one of + her movements had firmness, ease, the meaning of a vital fact, the moral + beauty of a fearless expression. Her supple figure was not dishonoured by + any faltering of outlines under the plain dress of dark blue stuff + moulding her form with bold simplicity. + </p> + <p> + She had only very few steps to make, but before she had stopped, + confronting Immada, d'Alcacer remembered her suddenly as he had seen her + last, out West, far away, impossibly different, as if in another universe, + as if presented by the fantasy of a fevered memory. He saw her in a + luminous perspective of palatial drawing rooms, in the restless eddy and + flow of a human sea, at the foot of walls high as cliffs, under lofty + ceilings that like a tropical sky flung light and heat upon the shallow + glitter of uniforms, of stars, of diamonds, of eyes sparkling in the weary + or impassive faces of the throng at an official reception. Outside he had + found the unavoidable darkness with its aspect of patient waiting, a + cloudy sky holding back the dawn of a London morning. It was difficult to + believe. + </p> + <p> + Lingard, who had been looking dangerously fierce, slapped his thigh and + showed signs of agitation. + </p> + <p> + “By heavens, I had forgotten all about you!” he pronounced in dismay. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers fixed her eyes on Immada. Fairhaired and white she asserted + herself before the girl of olive face and raven locks with the maturity of + perfection, with the superiority of the flower over the leaf, of the + phrase that contains a thought over the cry that can only express an + emotion. Immense spaces and countless centuries stretched between them: + and she looked at her as when one looks into one's own heart with absorbed + curiosity, with still wonder, with an immense compassion. Lingard + murmured, warningly: + </p> + <p> + “Don't touch her.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I could hurt her?” she asked, softly, and was so startled to + hear him mutter a gloomy “Perhaps,” that she hesitated before she smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Almost a child! And so pretty! What a delicate face,” she said, while + another deep sigh of the sea breeze lifted and let fall the screens, so + that the sound, the wind, and the glitter seemed to rush in together and + bear her words away into space. “I had no idea of anything so charmingly + gentle,” she went on in a voice that without effort glowed, caressed, and + had a magic power of delight to the soul. “So young! And she lives here—does + she? On the sea—or where? Lives—” Then faintly, as if she had + been in the act of speaking, removed instantly to a great distance, she + was heard again: “How does she live?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard had hardly seen Edith Travers till then. He had seen no one really + but Mr. Travers. He looked and listened with something of the stupor of a + new sensation. + </p> + <p> + Then he made a distinct effort to collect his thoughts and said with a + remnant of anger: + </p> + <p> + “What have you got to do with her? She knows war. Do you know anything + about it? And hunger, too, and thirst, and unhappiness; things you have + only heard about. She has been as near death as I am to you—and what + is all that to any of you here?” + </p> + <p> + “That child!” she said in slow wonder. + </p> + <p> + Immada turned upon Mrs. Travers her eyes black as coal, sparkling and soft + like a tropical night; and the glances of the two women, their dissimilar + and inquiring glances met, seemed to touch, clasp, hold each other with + the grip of an intimate contact. They separated. + </p> + <p> + “What are they come for? Why did you show them the way to this place?” + asked Immada, faintly. + </p> + <p> + Lingard shook his head in denial. + </p> + <p> + “Poor girl,” said Mrs. Travers. “Are they all so pretty?” + </p> + <p> + “Who-all?” mumbled Lingard. “There isn't an other one like her if you were + to ransack the islands all round the compass.” + </p> + <p> + “Edith!” ejaculated Mr. Travers in a remonstrating, acrimonious voice, and + everyone gave him a look of vague surprise. + </p> + <p> + Then Mrs. Travers asked: + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard very red and grave declared curtly: + </p> + <p> + “A princess.” + </p> + <p> + Immediately he looked round with suspicion. No one smiled. D'Alcacer, + courteous and nonchalant, lounged up close to Mrs. Travers' elbow. + </p> + <p> + “If she is a princess, then this man is a knight,” he murmured with + conviction. “A knight as I live! A descendant of the immortal hidalgo + errant upon the sea. It would be good for us to have him for a friend. + Seriously I think that you ought—” + </p> + <p> + The two stepped aside and spoke low and hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you ought—” + </p> + <p> + “How can I?” she interrupted, catching the meaning like a ball. + </p> + <p> + “By saying something.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it really necessary?” she asked, doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “It would do no harm,” said d'Alcacer with sudden carelessness; “a friend + is always better than an enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “Always?” she repeated, meaningly. “But what could I say?” + </p> + <p> + “Some words,” he answered; “I should think any words in your voice—” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. d'Alcacer!” + </p> + <p> + “Or you could perhaps look at him once or twice as though he were not + exactly a robber,” he continued. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. d'Alcacer, are you afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “Extremely,” he said, stooping to pick up the fan at her feet. “That is + the reason I am so anxious to conciliate. And you must not forget that one + of your queens once stepped on the cloak of perhaps such a man.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes sparkled and she dropped them suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a queen,” she said, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately not,” he admitted; “but then the other was a woman with no + charm but her crown.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment Lingard, to whom Hassim had been talking earnestly, + protested aloud: + </p> + <p> + “I never saw these people before.” + </p> + <p> + Immada caught hold of her brother's arm. Mr. Travers said harshly: + </p> + <p> + “Oblige me by taking these natives away.” + </p> + <p> + “Never before,” murmured Immada as if lost in ecstasy. D'Alcacer glanced + at Mrs. Travers and made a step forward. + </p> + <p> + “Could not the difficulty, whatever it is, be arranged, Captain?” he said + with careful politeness. “Observe that we are not only men here—” + </p> + <p> + “Let them die!” cried Immada, triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + Though Lingard alone understood the meaning of these words, all on board + felt oppressed by the uneasy silence which followed her cry. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! He is going. Now, Mrs. Travers,” whispered d'Alcacer. + </p> + <p> + “I hope!” said Mrs. Travers, impulsively, and stopped as if alarmed at the + sound. + </p> + <p> + Lingard stood still. + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” she began again, “that this poor girl will know happier days—” + She hesitated. + </p> + <p> + Lingard waited, attentive and serious. + </p> + <p> + “Under your care,” she finished. “And I believe you meant to be friendly + to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Lingard with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “You and d'Alcacer,” observed Mr. Travers, austerely, “are unnecessarily + detaining this—ah—person, and—ah—friends—ah!” + </p> + <p> + “I had forgotten you—and now—what? One must—it is hard—hard—” + went on Lingard, disconnectedly, while he looked into Mrs. Travers' violet + eyes, and felt his mind overpowered and troubled as if by the + contemplation of vast distances. “I—you don't know—I—you—cannot + . . . Ha! It's all that man's doing,” he burst out. + </p> + <p> + For a time, as if beside himself, he glared at Mrs. Travers, then flung up + one arm and strode off toward the gangway, where Hassim and Immada waited + for him, interested and patient. With a single word “Come,” he preceded + them down into the boat. Not a sound was heard on the yacht's deck, while + these three disappeared one after another below the rail as if they had + descended into the sea. + </p> + <p> + V + </p> + <p> + The afternoon dragged itself out in silence. Mrs. Travers sat pensive and + idle with her fan on her knees. D'Alcacer, who thought the incident should + have been treated in a conciliatory spirit, attempted to communicate his + view to his host, but that gentleman, purposely misunderstanding his + motive, overwhelmed him with so many apologies and expressions of regret + at the irksome and perhaps inconvenient delay “which you suffer from + through your good-natured acceptance of our invitation” that the other was + obliged to refrain from pursuing the subject further. + </p> + <p> + “Even my regard for you, my dear d'Alcacer, could not induce me to submit + to such a bare-faced attempt at extortion,” affirmed Mr. Travers with + uncompromising virtue. “The man wanted to force his services upon me, and + then put in a heavy claim for salvage. That is the whole secret—you + may depend on it. I detected him at once, of course.” The eye-glass + glittered perspicuously. “He underrated my intelligence; and what a + violent scoundrel! The existence of such a man in the time we live in is a + scandal.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer retired, and, full of vague forebodings, tried in vain for hours + to interest himself in a book. Mr. Travers walked up and down restlessly, + trying to persuade himself that his indignation was based on purely moral + grounds. The glaring day, like a mass of white-hot iron withdrawn from the + fire, was losing gradually its heat and its glare in a richer deepening of + tone. At the usual time two seamen, walking noiselessly aft in their + yachting shoes, rolled up in silence the quarter-deck screens; and the + coast, the shallows, the dark islets and the snowy sandbanks uncovered + thus day after day were seen once more in their aspect of dumb + watchfulness. The brig, swung end on in the foreground, her squared yards + crossing heavily the soaring symmetry of the rigging, resembled a creature + instinct with life, with the power of springing into action lurking in the + light grace of its repose. + </p> + <p> + A pair of stewards in white jackets with brass buttons appeared on deck + and began to flit about without a sound, laying the table for dinner on + the flat top of the cabin skylight. The sun, drifting away toward other + lands, toward other seas, toward other men; the sun, all red in a + cloudless sky raked the yacht with a parting salvo of crimson rays that + shattered themselves into sparks of fire upon the crystal and silver of + the dinner-service, put a short flame into the blades of knives, and + spread a rosy tint over the white of plates. A trail of purple, like a + smear of blood on a blue shield, lay over the sea. + </p> + <p> + On sitting down Mr. Travers alluded in a vexed tone to the necessity of + living on preserves, all the stock of fresh provisions for the passage to + Batavia having been already consumed. It was distinctly unpleasant. + </p> + <p> + “I don't travel for my pleasure, however,” he added; “and the belief that + the sacrifice of my time and comfort will be productive of some good to + the world at large would make up for any amount of privations.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers and d'Alcacer seemed unable to shake off a strong aversion to + talk, and the conversation, like an expiring breeze, kept on dying out + repeatedly after each languid gust. The large silence of the horizon, the + profound repose of all things visible, enveloping the bodies and + penetrating the souls with their quieting influence, stilled thought as + well as voice. For a long time no one spoke. Behind the taciturnity of the + masters the servants hovered without noise. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, Mr. Travers, as if concluding a train of thought, muttered + aloud: + </p> + <p> + “I own with regret I did in a measure lose my temper; but then you will + admit that the existence of such a man is a disgrace to civilization.” + </p> + <p> + This remark was not taken up and he returned for a time to the nursing of + his indignation, at the bottom of which, like a monster in a fog, crept a + bizarre feeling of rancour. He waved away an offered dish. + </p> + <p> + “This coast,” he began again, “has been placed under the sole protection + of Holland by the Treaty of 1820. The Treaty of 1820 creates special + rights and obligations. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Both his hearers felt vividly the urgent necessity to hear no more. + D'Alcacer, uncomfortable on a campstool, sat stiff and stared at the glass + stopper of a carafe. Mrs. Travers turned a little sideways and leaning on + her elbow rested her head on the palm of her hand like one thinking about + matters of profound import. Mr. Travers talked; he talked inflexibly, in a + harsh blank voice, as if reading a proclamation. The other two, as if in a + state of incomplete trance, had their ears assailed by fragments of + official verbiage. + </p> + <p> + “An international understanding—the duty to civilize—failed to + carry out—compact—Canning—” D'Alcacer became attentive + for a moment. “—not that this attempt, almost amusing in its + impudence, influences my opinion. I won't admit the possibility of any + violence being offered to people of our position. It is the social aspect + of such an incident I am desirous of criticising.” + </p> + <p> + Here d'Alcacer lost himself again in the recollection of Mrs. Travers and + Immada looking at each other—the beginning and the end, the flower + and the leaf, the phrase and the cry. Mr. Travers' voice went on dogmatic + and obstinate for a long time. The end came with a certain vehemence. + </p> + <p> + “And if the inferior race must perish, it is a gain, a step toward the + perfecting of society which is the aim of progress.” + </p> + <p> + He ceased. The sparks of sunset in crystal and silver had gone out, and + around the yacht the expanse of coast and Shallows seemed to await, + unmoved, the coming of utter darkness. The dinner was over a long time ago + and the patient stewards had been waiting, stoical in the downpour of + words like sentries under a shower. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers rose nervously and going aft began to gaze at the coast. + Behind her the sun, sunk already, seemed to force through the mass of + waters the glow of an unextinguishable fire, and below her feet, on each + side of the yacht, the lustrous sea, as if reflecting the colour of her + eyes, was tinged a sombre violet hue. + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer came up to her with quiet footsteps and for some time they + leaned side by side over the rail in silence. Then he said—“How + quiet it is!” and she seemed to perceive that the quietness of that + evening was more profound and more significant than ever before. Almost + without knowing it she murmured—“It's like a dream.” Another long + silence ensued; the tranquillity of the universe had such an August + ampleness that the sounds remained on the lips as if checked by the fear + of profanation. The sky was limpid like a diamond, and under the last + gleams of sunset the night was spreading its veil over the earth. There + was something precious and soothing in the beautifully serene end of that + expiring day, of the day vibrating, glittering and ardent, and dying now + in infinite peace, without a stir, without a tremor, without a sigh—in + the certitude of resurrection. + </p> + <p> + Then all at once the shadow deepened swiftly, the stars came out in a + crowd, scattering a rain of pale sparks upon the blackness of the water, + while the coast stretched low down, a dark belt without a gleam. Above it + the top-hamper of the brig loomed indistinct and high. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers spoke first. + </p> + <p> + “How unnaturally quiet! It is like a desert of land and water without a + living soul.” + </p> + <p> + “One man at least dwells in it,” said d'Alcacer, lightly, “and if he is to + be believed there are other men, full of evil intentions.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it is true?” Mrs. Travers asked. + </p> + <p> + Before answering d'Alcacer tried to see the expression of her face but the + obscurity was too profound already. + </p> + <p> + “How can one see a dark truth on such a dark night?” he said, evasively. + “But it is easy to believe in evil, here or anywhere else.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed to be lost in thought for a while. + </p> + <p> + “And that man himself?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + After some time d'Alcacer began to speak slowly. “Rough, uncommon, + decidedly uncommon of his kind. Not at all what Don Martin thinks him to + be. For the rest—mysterious to me. He is <i>your</i> countryman + after all—” + </p> + <p> + She seemed quite surprised by that view. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, slowly. “But you know, I can not—what shall I say?—imagine + him at all. He has nothing in common with the mankind I know. There is + nothing to begin upon. How does such a man live? What are his thoughts? + His actions? His affections? His—” + </p> + <p> + “His conventions,” suggested d'Alcacer. “That would include everything.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers appeared suddenly behind them with a glowing cigar in his + teeth. He took it between his fingers to declare with persistent acrimony + that no amount of “scoundrelly intimidation” would prevent him from having + his usual walk. There was about three hundred yards to the southward of + the yacht a sandbank nearly a mile long, gleaming a silvery white in the + darkness, plumetted in the centre with a thicket of dry bushes that + rustled very loud in the slightest stir of the heavy night air. The day + after the stranding they had landed on it “to stretch their legs a bit,” + as the sailing-master defined it, and every evening since, as if + exercising a privilege or performing a duty, the three paced there for an + hour backward and forward lost in dusky immensity, threading at the edge + of water the belt of damp sand, smooth, level, elastic to the touch like + living flesh and sweating a little under the pressure of their feet. + </p> + <p> + This time d'Alcacer alone followed Mr. Travers. Mrs. Travers heard them + get into the yacht's smallest boat, and the night-watchman, tugging at a + pair of sculls, pulled them off to the nearest point. Then the man + returned. He came up the ladder and she heard him say to someone on deck: + </p> + <p> + “Orders to go back in an hour.” + </p> + <p> + His footsteps died out forward, and a somnolent, unbreathing repose took + possession of the stranded yacht. + </p> + <p> + VI + </p> + <p> + After a time this absolute silence which she almost could feel pressing + upon her on all sides induced in Mrs. Travers a state of hallucination. + She saw herself standing alone, at the end of time, on the brink of days. + All was unmoving as if the dawn would never come, the stars would never + fade, the sun would never rise any more; all was mute, still, dead—as + if the shadow of the outer darkness, the shadow of the uninterrupted, of + the everlasting night that fills the universe, the shadow of the night so + profound and so vast that the blazing suns lost in it are only like + sparks, like pin-points of fire, the restless shadow that like a suspicion + of an evil truth darkens everything upon the earth on its passage, had + enveloped her, had stood arrested as if to remain with her forever. + </p> + <p> + And there was such a finality in that illusion, such an accord with the + trend of her thought that when she murmured into the darkness a faint “so + be it” she seemed to have spoken one of those sentences that resume and + close a life. + </p> + <p> + As a young girl, often reproved for her romantic ideas, she had dreams + where the sincerity of a great passion appeared like the ideal fulfilment + and the only truth of life. Entering the world she discovered that ideal + to be unattainable because the world is too prudent to be sincere. Then + she hoped that she could find the truth of life an ambition which she + understood as a lifelong devotion to some unselfish ideal. Mr. Travers' + name was on men's lips; he seemed capable of enthusiasm and of devotion; + he impressed her imagination by his impenetrability. She married him, + found him enthusiastically devoted to the nursing of his own career, and + had nothing to hope for now. + </p> + <p> + That her husband should be bewildered by the curious misunderstanding + which had taken place and also permanently grieved by her disloyalty to + his respectable ideals was only natural. He was, however, perfectly + satisfied with her beauty, her brilliance, and her useful connections. She + was admired, she was envied; she was surrounded by splendour and + adulation; the days went on rapid, brilliant, uniform, without a glimpse + of sincerity or true passion, without a single true emotion—not even + that of a great sorrow. And swiftly and stealthily they had led her on and + on, to this evening, to this coast, to this sea, to this moment of time + and to this spot on the earth's surface where she felt unerringly that the + moving shadow of the unbroken night had stood still to remain with her + forever. + </p> + <p> + “So be it!” she murmured, resigned and defiant, at the mute and smooth + obscurity that hung before her eyes in a black curtain without a fold; and + as if in answer to that whisper a lantern was run up to the foreyard-arm + of the brig. She saw it ascend swinging for a. short space, and suddenly + remain motionless in the air, piercing the dense night between the two + vessels by its glance of flame that strong and steady seemed, from afar, + to fall upon her alone. + </p> + <p> + Her thoughts, like a fascinated moth, went fluttering toward that light—that + man—that girl, who had known war, danger, seen death near, had + obtained evidently the devotion of that man. The occurrences of the + afternoon had been strange in themselves, but what struck her artistic + sense was the vigour of their presentation. They outlined themselves + before her memory with the clear simplicity of some immortal legend. They + were mysterious, but she felt certain they were absolutely true. They + embodied artless and masterful feelings; such, no doubt, as had swayed + mankind in the simplicity of its youth. She envied, for a moment, the lot + of that humble and obscure sister. Nothing stood between that girl and the + truth of her sensations. She could be sincerely courageous, and tender and + passionate and—well—ferocious. Why not ferocious? She could + know the truth of terror—and of affection, absolutely, without + artificial trammels, without the pain of restraint. + </p> + <p> + Thinking of what such life could be Mrs. Travers felt invaded by that + inexplicable exaltation which the consciousness of their physical + capacities so often gives to intellectual beings. She glowed with a sudden + persuasion that she also could be equal to such an existence; and her + heart was dilated with a momentary longing to know the naked truth of + things; the naked truth of life and passion buried under the growth of + centuries. + </p> + <p> + She glowed and, suddenly, she quivered with the shock of coming to herself + as if she had fallen down from a star. There was a sound of rippling water + and a shapeless mass glided out of the dark void she confronted. A voice + below her feet said: + </p> + <p> + “I made out your shape—on the sky.” A cry of surprise expired on her + lips and she could only peer downward. Lingard, alone in the brig's + dinghy, with another stroke sent the light boat nearly under the yacht's + counter, laid his sculls in, and rose from the thwart. His head and + shoulders loomed up alongside and he had the appearance of standing upon + the sea. Involuntarily Mrs. Travers made a movement of retreat. + </p> + <p> + “Stop,” he said, anxiously, “don't speak loud. No one must know. Where do + your people think themselves, I wonder? In a dock at home? And you—” + </p> + <p> + “My husband is not on board,” she interrupted, hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “I know.” + </p> + <p> + She bent a little more over the rail. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are having us watched. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Somebody must watch. Your people keep such a good look-out—don't + they? Yes. Ever since dark one of my boats has been dodging astern here, + in the deep water. I swore to myself I would never see one of you, never + speak to one of you here, that I would be dumb, blind, deaf. And—here + I am!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers' alarm and mistrust were replaced by an immense curiosity, + burning, yet quiet, too, as if before the inevitable work of destiny. She + looked downward at Lingard. His head was bared, and, with one hand upon + the ship's side, he seemed to be thinking deeply. + </p> + <p> + “Because you had something more to tell us,” Mrs. Travers suggested, + gently. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said in a low tone and without moving in the least. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come on board and wait?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Who? I!” He lifted his head so quickly as to startle her. “I have nothing + to say to him; and I'll never put my foot on board this craft. I've been + told to go. That's enough.” + </p> + <p> + “He is accustomed to be addressed deferentially,” she said after a pause, + “and you—” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” asked Lingard, simply. + </p> + <p> + These three words seemed to her to scatter her past in the air—like + smoke. They robbed all the multitude of mankind of every vestige of + importance. She was amazed to find that on this night, in this place, + there could be no adequate answer to the searching naiveness of that + question. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't ask for much,” Lingard began again. “Did I? Only that you all + should come on board my brig for five days. That's all. . . . Do I look + like a liar? There are things I could not tell him. I couldn't explain—I + couldn't—not to him—to no man—to no man in the world—” + </p> + <p> + His voice dropped. + </p> + <p> + “Not to myself,” he ended as if in a dream. + </p> + <p> + “We have remained unmolested so long here,” began Mrs. Travers a little + unsteadily, “that it makes it very difficult to believe in danger, now. We + saw no one all these days except those two people who came for you. If you + may not explain—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, you can't be expected to see through a wall,” broke in + Lingard. “This coast's like a wall, but I know what's on the other side. . + . . A yacht here, of all things that float! When I set eyes on her I could + fancy she hadn't been more than an hour from home. Nothing but the look of + her spars made me think of old times. And then the faces of the chaps on + board. I seemed to know them all. It was like home coming to me when I + wasn't thinking of it. And I hated the sight of you all.” + </p> + <p> + “If we are exposed to any peril,” she said after a pause during which she + tried to penetrate the secret of passion hidden behind that man's words, + “it need not affect you. Our other boat is gone to the Straits and + effective help is sure to come very soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Affect me! Is that precious watchman of yours coming aft? I don't want + anybody to know I came here again begging, even of you. Is he coming aft? + . . . Listen! I've stopped your other boat.” + </p> + <p> + His head and shoulders disappeared as though he had dived into a denser + layer of obscurity floating on the water. The watchman, who had the + intention to stretch himself in one of the deck chairs, catching sight of + the owner's wife, walked straight to the lamp that hung under the ridge + pole of the awning, and after fumbling with it for a time went away + forward with an indolent gait. + </p> + <p> + “You dared!” Mrs. Travers whispered down in an intense tone; and directly, + Lingard's head emerged again below her with an upturned face. + </p> + <p> + “It was dare—or give up. The help from the Straits would have been + too late anyhow if I hadn't the power to keep you safe; and if I had the + power I could see you through it—alone. I expected to find a + reasonable man to talk to. I ought to have known better. You come from too + far to understand these things. Well, I dared; I've sent after your other + boat a fellow who, with me at his back, would try to stop the governor of + the Straits himself. He will do it. Perhaps it's done already. You have + nothing to hope for. But I am here. You said you believed I meant well—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “That's why I thought I would tell you everything. I had to begin with + this business about the boat. And what do you think of me now? I've cut + you off from the rest of the earth. You people would disappear like a + stone in the water. You left one foreign port for another. Who's there to + trouble about what became of you? Who would know? Who could guess? It + would be months before they began to stir.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” she said, steadily, “we are helpless.” + </p> + <p> + “And alone,” he added. + </p> + <p> + After a pause she said in a deliberate, restrained voice: + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean? Plunder, captivity?” + </p> + <p> + “It would have meant death if I hadn't been here,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “But you have the power to—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, do you think, you are alive yet?” he cried. “Jorgenson has been + arguing with them on shore,” he went on, more calmly, with a swing of his + arm toward where the night seemed darkest. “Do you think he would have + kept them back if they hadn't expected me every day? His words would have + been nothing without my fist.” + </p> + <p> + She heard a dull blow struck on the side of the yacht and concealed in the + same darkness that wrapped the unconcern of the earth and sea, the fury + and the pain of hearts; she smiled above his head, fascinated by the + simplicity of images and expressions. + </p> + <p> + Lingard made a brusque movement, the lively little boat being unsteady + under his feet, and she spoke slowly, absently, as if her thought had been + lost in the vagueness of her sensations. + </p> + <p> + “And this—this—Jorgenson, you said? Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “A man,” he answered, “a man like myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Like yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Just like myself,” he said with strange reluctance, as if admitting a + painful truth. “More sense, perhaps, but less luck. Though, since your + yacht has turned up here, I begin to think that my luck is nothing much to + boast of either.” + </p> + <p> + “Is our presence here so fatal?” + </p> + <p> + “It may be death to some. It may be worse than death to me. And it rests + with you in a way. Think of that! I can never find such another chance + again. But that's nothing! A man who has saved my life once and that I + passed my word to would think I had thrown him over. But that's nothing! + Listen! As true as I stand here in my boat talking to you, I believe the + girl would die of grief.” + </p> + <p> + “You love her,” she said, softly. + </p> + <p> + “Like my own daughter,” he cried, low. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers said, “Oh!” faintly, and for a moment there was a silence, + then he began again: + </p> + <p> + “Look here. When I was a boy in a trawler, and looked at you yacht people, + in the Channel ports, you were as strange to me as the Malays here are + strange to you. I left home sixteen years ago and fought my way all round + the earth. I had the time to forget where I began. What are you to me + against these two? If I was to die here on the spot would you care? No one + would care at home. No one in the whole world—but these two.” + </p> + <p> + “What can I do?” she asked, and waited, leaning over. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to reflect, then lifting his head, spoke gently: + </p> + <p> + “Do you understand the danger you are in? Are you afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand the expression you used, of course. Understand the danger?” + she went on. “No—decidedly no. And—honestly—I am not + afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you?” he said in a disappointed voice. “Perhaps you don't believe + me? I believed you, though, when you said you were sure I meant well. I + trusted you enough to come here asking for your help—telling you + what no one knows.” + </p> + <p> + “You mistake me,” she said with impulsive earnestness. “This is so + extraordinarily unusual—sudden—outside my experience.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye!” he murmured, “what would you know of danger and trouble? You! But + perhaps by thinking it over—” + </p> + <p> + “You want me to think myself into a fright!” Mrs. Travers laughed lightly, + and in the gloom of his thought this flash of joyous sound was incongruous + and almost terrible. Next moment the night appeared brilliant as day, warm + as sunshine; but when she ceased the returning darkness gave him pain as + if it had struck heavily against his breast. “I don't think I could do + that,” she finished in a serious tone. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't you?” He hesitated, perplexed. “Things are bad enough to make it + no shame. I tell you,” he said, rapidly, “and I am not a timid man, I may + not be able to do much if you people don't help me.” + </p> + <p> + “You want me to pretend I am alarmed?” she asked, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, to pretend—as well you may. It's a lot to ask of you—who + perhaps never had to make-believe a thing in your life—isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” she said after a time. + </p> + <p> + The unexpected bitterness of her tone struck Lingard with dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be offended,” he entreated. “I've got to plan a way out of this + mess. It's no play either. Could you pretend?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, if I tried very hard. But to what end?” + </p> + <p> + “You must all shift aboard the brig,” he began, speaking quickly, “and + then we may get over this trouble without coming to blows. Now, if you + were to say that you wish it; that you feel unsafe in the yacht—don't + you see?” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” she pronounced, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “The brig is small but the cuddy is fit for a lady,” went on Lingard with + animation. + </p> + <p> + “Has it not already sheltered a princess?” she commented, coolly. + </p> + <p> + “And I shall not intrude.” + </p> + <p> + “This is an inducement.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody will dare to intrude. You needn't even see me.” + </p> + <p> + “This is almost decisive, only—” + </p> + <p> + “I know my place.” + </p> + <p> + “Only, I might not have the influence,” she finished. + </p> + <p> + “That I can not believe,” he said, roughly. “The long and the short of it + is you don't trust me because you think that only people of your own + condition speak the truth always.” + </p> + <p> + “Evidently,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “You say to yourself—here's a fellow deep in with pirates, thieves, + niggers—” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure—” + </p> + <p> + “A man I never saw the like before,” went on Lingard, headlong, “a—ruffian.” + </p> + <p> + He checked himself, full of confusion. After a time he heard her saying, + calmly: + </p> + <p> + “You are like other men in this, that you get angry when you can not have + your way at once.” + </p> + <p> + “I angry!” he exclaimed in deadened voice. “You do not understand. I am + thinking of you also—it is hard on me—” + </p> + <p> + “I mistrust not you, but my own power. You have produced an unfortunate + impression on Mr. Travers.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunate impression! He treated me as if I had been a long-shore + loafer. Never mind that. He is your husband. Fear in those you care for is + hard to bear for any man. And so, he—” + </p> + <p> + “What Machiavellism!” + </p> + <p> + “Eh, what did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I only wondered where you had observed that. On the sea?” + </p> + <p> + “Observed what?” he said, absently. Then pursuing his idea—“One word + from you ought to be enough.” + </p> + <p> + “You think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it. Why, even I, myself—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she interrupted. “But don't you think that after parting with + you on such—such—inimical terms, there would be a difficulty + in resuming relations?” + </p> + <p> + “A man like me would do anything for money—don't you see?” + </p> + <p> + After a pause she asked: + </p> + <p> + “And would you care for that argument to be used?” + </p> + <p> + “As long as you know better!” + </p> + <p> + His voice vibrated—she drew back disturbed, as if unexpectedly he + had touched her. + </p> + <p> + “What can there be at stake?” she began, wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “A kingdom,” said Lingard. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers leaned far over the rail, staring, and their faces, one above + the other, came very close together. + </p> + <p> + “Not for yourself?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + He felt the touch of her breath on his forehead and remained still for a + moment, perfectly still as if he did not intend to move or speak any more. + </p> + <p> + “Those things,” he began, suddenly, “come in your way, when you don't + think, and they get all round you before you know what you mean to do. + When I went into that bay in New Guinea I never guessed where that course + would take me to. I could tell you a story. You would understand! You! + You!” + </p> + <p> + He stammered, hesitated, and suddenly spoke, liberating the visions of two + years into the night where Mrs. Travers could follow them as if outlined + in words of fire. + </p> + <p> + VII + </p> + <p> + His tale was as startling as the discovery of a new world. She was being + taken along the boundary of an exciting existence, and she looked into it + through the guileless enthusiasm of the narrator. The heroic quality of + the feelings concealed what was disproportionate and absurd in that + gratitude, in that friendship, in that inexplicable devotion. The headlong + fierceness of purpose invested his obscure design of conquest with the + proportions of a great enterprise. It was clear that no vision of a + subjugated world could have been more inspiring to the most famous + adventurer of history. + </p> + <p> + From time to time he interrupted himself to ask, confidently, as if he had + been speaking to an old friend, “What would you have done?” and hurried on + without pausing for approval. + </p> + <p> + It struck her that there was a great passion in all this, the beauty of an + implanted faculty of affection that had found itself, its immediate need + of an object and the way of expansion; a tenderness expressed violently; a + tenderness that could only be satisfied by backing human beings against + their own destiny. Perhaps her hatred of convention, trammelling the + frankness of her own impulses, had rendered her more alert to perceive + what is intrinsically great and profound within the forms of human folly, + so simple and so infinitely varied according to the region of the earth + and to the moment of time. + </p> + <p> + What of it that the narrator was only a roving seaman; the kingdom of the + jungle, the men of the forest, the lives obscure! That simple soul was + possessed by the greatness of the idea; there was nothing sordid in its + flaming impulses. When she once understood that, the story appealed to the + audacity of her thoughts, and she became so charmed with what she heard + that she forgot where she was. She forgot that she was personally close to + that tale which she saw detached, far away from her, truth or fiction, + presented in picturesque speech, real only by the response of her emotion. + </p> + <p> + Lingard paused. In the cessation of the impassioned murmur she began to + reflect. And at first it was only an oppressive notion of there being some + significance that really mattered in this man's story. That mattered to + her. For the first time the shadow of danger and death crossed her mind. + Was that the significance? Suddenly, in a flash of acute discernment, she + saw herself involved helplessly in that story, as one is involved in a + natural cataclysm. + </p> + <p> + He was speaking again. He had not been silent more than a minute. It + seemed to Mrs. Travers that years had elapsed, so different now was the + effect of his words. Her mind was agitated as if his coming to speak and + confide in her had been a tremendous occurrence. It was a fact of her own + existence; it was part of the story also. This was the disturbing thought. + She heard him pronounce several names: Belarab, Daman, Tengga, Ningrat. + These belonged now to her life and she was appalled to find she was unable + to connect these names with any human appearance. They stood out alone, as + if written on the night; they took on a symbolic shape; they imposed + themselves upon her senses. She whispered as if pondering: “Belarab, + Daman, Ningrat,” and these barbarous sounds seemed to possess an + exceptional energy, a fatal aspect, the savour of madness. + </p> + <p> + “Not one of them but has a heavy score to settle with the whites. What's + that to me! I had somehow to get men who would fight. I risked my life to + get that lot. I made them promises which I shall keep—or—! Can + you see now why I dared to stop your boat? I am in so deep that I care for + no Sir John in the world. When I look at the work ahead I care for + nothing. I gave you one chance—one good chance. That I had to do. + No! I suppose I didn't look enough of a gentleman. Yes! Yes! That's it. + Yet I know what a gentleman is. I lived with them for years. I chummed + with them—yes—on gold-fields and in other places where a man + has got to show the stuff that's in him. Some of them write from home to + me here—such as you see me, because I—never mind! And I know + what a gentleman would do. Come! Wouldn't he treat a stranger fairly? + Wouldn't he remember that no man is a liar till you prove him so? Wouldn't + he keep his word wherever given? Well, I am going to do that. Not a hair + of your head shall be touched as long as I live!” + </p> + <p> + She had regained much of her composure but at these words she felt that + staggering sense of utter insecurity which is given one by the first + tremor of an earthquake. It was followed by an expectant stillness of + sensations. She remained silent. He thought she did not believe him. + </p> + <p> + “Come! What on earth do you think brought me here—to—to—talk + like this to you? There was Hassim—Rajah Tulla, I should say—who + was asking me this afternoon: 'What will you do now with these, your + people?' I believe he thinks yet I fetched you here for some reason. You + can't tell what crooked notion they will get into their thick heads. It's + enough to make one swear.” He swore. “My people! Are you? How much? Say—how + much? You're no more mine than I am yours. Would any of you fine folks at + home face black ruin to save a fishing smack's crew from getting drowned?” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding that sense of insecurity which lingered faintly in her + mind she had no image of death before her. She felt intensely alive. She + felt alive in a flush of strength, with an impression of novelty as though + life had been the gift of this very moment. The danger hidden in the night + gave no sign to awaken her terror, but the workings of a human soul, + simple and violent, were laid bare before her and had the disturbing charm + of an unheard-of experience. She was listening to a man who concealed + nothing. She said, interrogatively: + </p> + <p> + “And yet you have come?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered, “to you—and for you only.” + </p> + <p> + The flood tide running strong over the banks made a placid trickling sound + about the yacht's rudder. + </p> + <p> + “I would not be saved alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you must bring them over yourself,” he said in a sombre tone. + “There's the brig. You have me—my men—my guns. You know what + to do. + </p> + <p> + “I will try,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. I am sorry for the poor devils forward there if you fail. But + of course you won't. Watch that light on the brig. I had it hoisted on + purpose. The trouble may be nearer than we think. Two of my boats are gone + scouting and if the news they bring me is bad the light will be lowered. + Think what that means. And I've told you what I have told nobody. Think of + my feelings also. I told you because I—because I had to.” + </p> + <p> + He gave a shove against the yacht's side and glided away from under her + eyes. A rippling sound died out. + </p> + <p> + She walked away from the rail. The lamp and the skylights shone faintly + along the dark stretch of the decks. This evening was like the last—like + all the evenings before. + </p> + <p> + “Is all this I have heard possible?” she asked herself. “No—but it + is true.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down in a deck chair to think and found she could only remember. + She jumped up. She was sure somebody was hailing the yacht faintly. Was + that man hailing? She listened, and hearing nothing was annoyed with + herself for being haunted by a voice. + </p> + <p> + “He said he could trust me. Now, what is this danger? What is danger?” she + meditated. + </p> + <p> + Footsteps were coming from forward. The figure of the watchman flitted + vaguely over the gangway. He was whistling softly and vanished. Hollow + sounds in the boat were succeeded by a splash of oars. The night swallowed + these slight noises. Mrs. Travers sat down again and found herself much + calmer. + </p> + <p> + She had the faculty of being able to think her own thoughts—and the + courage. She could take no action of any kind till her husband's return. + Lingard's warnings were not what had impressed her most. This man had + presented his innermost self unclothed by any subterfuge. There were in + plain sight his desires, his perplexities, affections, doubts, his + violence, his folly; and the existence they made up was lawless but not + vile. She had too much elevation of mind to look upon him from any other + but a strictly human standpoint. If he trusted her (how strange; why + should he? Was he wrong?) she accepted the trust with scrupulous fairness. + And when it dawned upon her that of all the men in the world this + unquestionably was the one she knew best, she had a moment of wonder + followed by an impression of profound sadness. It seemed an unfortunate + matter that concerned her alone. + </p> + <p> + Her thought was suspended while she listened attentively for the return of + the yacht's boat. She was dismayed at the task before her. Not a sound + broke the stillness and she felt as if she were lost in empty space. Then + suddenly someone amidships yawned immensely and said: “Oh, dear! Oh, + dear!” A voice asked: “Ain't they back yet?” A negative grunt answered. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers found that Lingard was touching, because he could be + understood. How simple was life, she reflected. She was frank with + herself. She considered him apart from social organization. She discovered + he had no place in it. How delightful! Here was a human being and the + naked truth of things was not so very far from her notwithstanding the + growth of centuries. Then it occurred to her that this man by his action + stripped her at once of her position, of her wealth, of her rank, of her + past. “I am helpless. What remains?” she asked herself. Nothing! Anybody + there might have suggested: “Your presence.” She was too artificial yet to + think of her beauty; and yet the power of personality is part of the naked + truth of things. + </p> + <p> + She looked over her shoulder, and saw the light at the brig's foreyard-arm + burning with a strong, calm flame in the dust of starlight suspended above + the coast. She heard the heavy bump as of a boat run headlong against the + ladder. They were back! She rose in sudden and extreme agitation. What + should she say? How much? How to begin? Why say anything? It would be + absurd, like talking seriously about a dream. She would not dare! In a + moment she was driven into a state of mind bordering on distraction. She + heard somebody run up the gangway steps. With the idea of gaining time she + walked rapidly aft to the taffrail. The light of the brig faced her + without a flicker, enormous amongst the suns scattered in the immensity of + the night. + </p> + <p> + She fixed her eyes on it. She thought: “I shan't tell him anything. + Impossible. No! I shall tell everything.” She expected every moment to + hear her husband's voice and the suspense was intolerable because she felt + that then she must decide. Somebody on deck was babbling excitedly. She + devoutly hoped d'Alcacer would speak first and thus put off the fatal + moment. A voice said roughly: “What's that?” And in the midst of her + distress she recognized Carter's voice, having noticed that young man who + was of a different stamp from the rest of the crew. She came to the + conclusion that the matter could be related jocularly, or—why not + pretend fear? At that moment the brig's yard-arm light she was looking at + trembled distinctly, and she was dumfounded as if she had seen a commotion + in the firmament. With her lips open for a cry she saw it fall straight + down several feet, flicker, and go out. All perplexity passed from her + mind. This first fact of the danger gave her a thrill of quite a new + emotion. Something had to be done at once. For some remote reason she felt + ashamed of her hesitations. + </p> + <p> + She moved swiftly forward and under the lamp came face to face with Carter + who was coming aft. Both stopped, staring, the light fell on their faces, + and both were struck by each other's expression. The four eyes shone wide. + </p> + <p> + “You have seen?” she asked, beginning to tremble. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” he said, at the same time, evidently surprised. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she saw that everybody was on deck. + </p> + <p> + “The light is down,” she stammered. + </p> + <p> + “The gentlemen are lost,” said Carter. Then he perceived she did not seem + to understand. “Kidnapped off the sandbank,” he continued, looking at her + fixedly to see how she would take it. She seemed calm. “Kidnapped like a + pair of lambs! Not a squeak,” he burst out with indignation. “But the + sandbank is long and they might have been at the other end. You were on + deck, ma'am?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she murmured. “In the chair here.” + </p> + <p> + “We were all down below. I had to rest a little. When I came up the + watchman was asleep. He swears he wasn't, but I know better. Nobody heard + any noise, unless you did. But perhaps you were asleep?” he asked, + deferentially. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—no—I must have been,” she said, faintly. + </p> + <p> + VIII + </p> + <p> + Lingard's soul was exalted by his talk with Mrs. Travers, by the strain of + incertitude and by extreme fatigue. On returning on board he asked after + Hassim and was told that the Rajah and his sister had gone off in their + canoe promising to return before midnight. The boats sent to scout between + the islets north and south of the anchorage had not come back yet. He went + into his cabin and throwing himself on the couch closed his eyes thinking: + “I must sleep or I shall go mad.” + </p> + <p> + At times he felt an unshaken confidence in Mrs. Travers—then he + remembered her face. Next moment the face would fade, he would make an + effort to hold on to the image, fail—and then become convinced + without the shadow of a doubt that he was utterly lost, unless he let all + these people be wiped off the face of the earth. + </p> + <p> + “They all heard that man order me out of his ship,” he thought, and + thereupon for a second or so he contemplated without flinching the lurid + image of a massacre. “And yet I had to tell her that not a hair of her + head shall be touched. Not a hair.” + </p> + <p> + And irrationally at the recollection of these words there seemed to be no + trouble of any kind left in the world. Now and then, however, there were + black instants when from sheer weariness he thought of nothing at all; and + during one of these he fell asleep, losing the consciousness of external + things as suddenly as if he had been felled by a blow on the head. + </p> + <p> + When he sat up, almost before he was properly awake, his first alarmed + conviction was that he had slept the night through. There was a light in + the cuddy and through the open door of his cabin he saw distinctly Mrs. + Travers pass out of view across the lighted space. + </p> + <p> + “They did come on board after all,” he thought—“how is it I haven't + been called!” + </p> + <p> + He darted into the cuddy. Nobody! Looking up at the clock in the skylight + he was vexed to see it had stopped till his ear caught the faint beat of + the mechanism. It was going then! He could not have been asleep more than + ten minutes. He had not been on board more than twenty! + </p> + <p> + So it was only a deception; he had seen no one. And yet he remembered the + turn of the head, the line of the neck, the colour of the hair, the + movement of the passing figure. He returned spiritlessly to his state-room + muttering, “No more sleep for me to-night,” and came out directly, holding + a few sheets of paper covered with a high, angular handwriting. + </p> + <p> + This was Jorgenson's letter written three days before and entrusted to + Hassim. Lingard had read it already twice, but he turned up the lamp a + little higher and sat down to read it again. On the red shield above his + head the gilt sheaf of thunderbolts darting between the initials of his + name seemed to be aimed straight at the nape of his neck as he sat with + bared elbows spread on the table, poring over the crumpled sheets. The + letter began: + </p> + <p> + Hassim and Immada are going out to-night to look for you. You are behind + your time and every passing day makes things worse. + </p> + <p> + Ten days ago three of Belarab's men, who had been collecting turtles' eggs + on the islets, came flying back with a story of a ship stranded on the + outer mudflats. Belarab at once forbade any boat from leaving the lagoon. + So far good. There was a great excitement in the village. I judge it must + be a schooner—probably some fool of a trader. However, you will know + all about her when you read this. You may say I might have pulled out to + sea to have a look for myself. But besides Belarab's orders to the + contrary, which I would attend to for the sake of example, all you are + worth in this world, Tom, is here in the Emma, under my feet, and I would + not leave my charge even for half a day. Hassim attended the council held + every evening in the shed outside Belarab's stockade. That holy man + Ningrat was for looting that vessel. Hassim reproved him saying that the + vessel probably was sent by you because no white men were known to come + inside the shoals. Belarab backed up Hassim. Ningrat was very angry and + reproached Belarab for keeping him, Ningrat, short of opium to smoke. He + began by calling him “O! son,” and ended by shouting, “O! you worse than + an unbeliever!” There was a hullabaloo. The followers of Tengga were ready + to interfere and you know how it is between Tengga and Belarab. Tengga + always wanted to oust Belarab, and his chances were getting pretty good + before you turned up and armed Belarab's bodyguard with muskets. However, + Hassim stopped that row, and no one was hurt that time. Next day, which + was Friday, Ningrat after reading the prayers in the mosque talked to the + people outside. He bleated and capered like an old goat, prophesying + misfortune, ruin, and extermination if these whites were allowed to get + away. He is mad but then they think him a saint, and he had been fighting + the Dutch for years in his young days. Six of Belarab's guard marched down + the village street carrying muskets at full cock and the crowd cleared + out. Ningrat was spirited away by Tengga's men into their master's + stockade. If it was not for the fear of you turning up any moment there + would have been a party-fight that evening. I think it is a pity Tengga is + not chief of the land instead of Belarab. A brave and foresighted man, + however treacherous at heart, can always be trusted to a certain extent. + One can never get anything clear from Belarab. Peace! Peace! You know his + fad. And this fad makes him act silly. The peace racket will get him into + a row. It may cost him his life in the end. However, Tengga does not feel + himself strong enough yet to act with his own followers only and Belarab + has, on my advice, disarmed all villagers. His men went into the houses + and took away by force all the firearms and as many spears as they could + lay hands on. The women screamed abuse of course, but there was no + resistance. A few men were seen clearing out into the forest with their + arms. Note this, for it means there is another power beside Belarab's in + the village: the growing power of Tengga. + </p> + <p> + One morning—four days ago—I went to see Tengga. I found him by + the shore trimming a plank with a small hatchet while a slave held an + umbrella over his head. He is amusing himself in building a boat just now. + He threw his hatchet down to meet me and led me by the hand to a shady + spot. He told me frankly he had sent out two good swimmers to observe the + stranded vessel. These men stole down the creek in a canoe and when on the + sea coast swam from sandbank to sandbank until they approached unobserved—I + think—to about fifty yards from that schooner What can that craft + be? I can't make it out. The men reported there were three chiefs on + board. One with a glittering eye, one a lean man in white, and another + without any hair on the face and dressed in a different style. Could it be + a woman? I don't know what to think. I wish you were here. After a lot of + chatter Tengga said: “Six years ago I was ruler of a country and the Dutch + drove me out. The country was small but nothing is too small for them to + take. They pretended to give it back to my nephew—may he burn! I ran + away or they would have killed me. I am nothing here—but I remember. + These white people out there can not run away and they are very few. There + is perhaps a little to loot. I would give it to my men who followed me in + my calamity because I am their chief and my father was the chief of their + fathers.” I pointed out the imprudence of this. He said: “The dead do not + show the way.” To this I remarked that the ignorant do not give + information. Tengga kept quiet for a while, then said: “We must not touch + them because their skin is like yours and to kill them would be wrong, but + at the bidding of you whites we may go and fight with people of our own + skin and our own faith—and that is good. I have promised to Tuan + Lingard twenty men and a prau to make war in Wajo. The men are good and + look at the prau; it is swift and strong.” I must say, Tom, the prau is + the best craft of the kind I have ever seen. I said you paid him well for + the help. “And I also would pay,” says he, “if you let me have a few guns + and a little powder for my men. You and I shall share the loot of that + ship outside, and Tuan Lingard will not know. It is only a little game. + You have plenty of guns and powder under your care.” He meant in the Emma. + On that I spoke out pretty straight and we got rather warm until at last + he gave me to understand that as he had about forty followers of his own + and I had only nine of Hassim's chaps to defend the Emma with, he could + very well go for me and get the lot. “And then,” says he, “I would be so + strong that everybody would be on my side.” I discovered in the course of + further talk that there is a notion amongst many people that you have come + to grief in some way and won't show up here any more. After this I saw the + position was serious and I was in a hurry to get back to the Emma, but + pretending I did not care I smiled and thanked Tengga for giving me + warning of his intentions about me and the Emma. At this he nearly choked + himself with his betel quid and fixing me with his little eyes, muttered: + “Even a lizard will give a fly the time to say its prayers.” I turned my + back on him and was very thankful to get beyond the throw of a spear. I + haven't been out of the Emma since. + </p> + <p> + IX + </p> + <p> + The letter went on to enlarge on the intrigues of Tengga, the wavering + conduct of Belarab, and the state of the public mind. It noted every gust + of opinion and every event, with an earnestness of belief in their + importance befitting the chronicle of a crisis in the history of an + empire. The shade of Jorgenson had, indeed, stepped back into the life of + men. The old adventurer looked on with a perfect understanding of the + value of trifles, using his eyes for that other man whose conscience would + have the task to unravel the tangle. Lingard lived through those days in + the Settlement and was thankful to Jorgenson; only as he lived not from + day to day but from sentence to sentence of the writing, there was an + effect of bewildering rapidity in the succession of events that made him + grunt with surprise sometimes or growl—“What?” to himself angrily + and turn back several lines or a whole page more than once. Toward the end + he had a heavy frown of perplexity and fidgeted as he read: + </p> + <p> + —and I began to think I could keep things quiet till you came or + those wretched white people got their schooner off, when Sherif Daman + arrived from the north on the very day he was expected, with two Illanun + praus. He looks like an Arab. It was very evident to me he can wind the + two Illanun pangerans round his little finger. The two praus are large and + armed. They came up the creek, flags and streamers flying, beating drums + and gongs, and entered the lagoon with their decks full of armed men + brandishing two-handed swords and sounding the war cry. It is a fine force + for you, only Belarab who is a perverse devil would not receive Sherif + Daman at once. So Daman went to see Tengga who detained him a very long + time. Leaving Tengga he came on board the Emma, and I could see directly + there was something up. + </p> + <p> + He began by asking me for the ammunition and weapons they are to get from + you, saying he was anxious to sail at once toward Wajo, since it was + agreed he was to precede you by a few days. I replied that that was true + enough but that I could not think of giving him the powder and muskets + till you came. He began to talk about you and hinted that perhaps you will + never come. “And no matter,” says he, “here is Rajah Hassim and the Lady + Immada and we would fight for them if no white man was left in the world. + Only we must have something to fight with.” He pretended then to forget me + altogether and talked with Hassim while I sat listening. He began to boast + how well he got along the Bruni coast. No Illanun prau had passed down + that coast for years. + </p> + <p> + Immada wanted me to give the arms he was asking for. The girl is beside + herself with fear of something happening that would put a stopper on the + Wajo expedition. She has set her mind on getting her country back. Hassim + is very reserved but he is very anxious, too. Daman got nothing from me, + and that very evening the praus were ordered by Belarab to leave the + lagoon. He does not trust the Illanuns—and small blame to him. + Sherif Daman went like a lamb. He has no powder for his guns. As the praus + passed by the Emma he shouted to me he was going to wait for you outside + the creek. Tengga has given him a man who would show him the place. All + this looks very queer to me. + </p> + <p> + Look out outside then. The praus are dodging amongst the islets. Daman + visits Tengga. Tengga called on me as a good friend to try and persuade me + to give Daman the arms and gunpowder he is so anxious to get. Somehow or + other they tried to get around Belarab, who came to see me last night and + hinted I had better do so. He is anxious for these Illanuns to leave the + neighbourhood. He thinks that if they loot the schooner they will be off + at once. That's all he wants now. Immada has been to see Belarab's women + and stopped two nights in the stockade. Belarab's youngest wife—he + got married six weeks ago—is on the side of Tengga's party because + she thinks Belarab would get a share of the loot and she got into her + silly head there are jewels and silks in that schooner. What between + Tengga worrying him outside and the women worrying him at home, Belarab + had such a lively time of it that he concluded he would go to pray at his + father's tomb. So for the last two days he has been away camping in that + unhealthy place. When he comes back he will be down with fever as sure as + fate and then he will be no good for anything. Tengga lights up smoky + fires often. Some signal to Daman. I go ashore with Hassim's men and put + them out. This is risking a fight every time—for Tengga's men look + very black at us. I don't know what the next move may be. Hassim's as true + as steel. Immada is very unhappy. They will tell you many details I have + no time to write. + </p> + <p> + The last page fluttered on the table out of Lingard's fingers. He sat very + still for a moment looking straight before him, then went on deck. + </p> + <p> + “Our boats back yet?” he asked Shaw, whom he saw prowling on the + quarter-deck. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I wish they were. I am waiting for them to go and turn in,” + answered the mate in an aggrieved manner. + </p> + <p> + “Lower that lantern forward there,” cried Lingard, suddenly, in Malay. + </p> + <p> + “This trade isn't fit for a decent man,” muttered Shaw to himself, and he + moved away to lean on the rail, looking moodily to seaward. After a while: + “There seems to be commotion on board that yacht,” he said. “I see a lot + of lights moving about her decks. Anything wrong, do you think, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I know what it is,” said Lingard in a tone of elation. She has done + it! he thought. + </p> + <p> + He returned to the cabin, put away Jorgenson's letter and pulled out the + drawer of the table. It was full of cartridges. He took a musket down, + loaded it, then took another and another. He hammered at the waddings with + fierce joyousness. The ramrods rang and jumped. It seemed to him he was + doing his share of some work in which that woman was playing her part + faithfully. “She has done it,” he repeated, mentally. “She will sit in the + cuddy. She will sleep in my berth. Well, I'm not ashamed of the brig. By + heavens—no! I shall keep away: never come near them as I've + promised. Now there's nothing more to say. I've told her everything at + once. There's nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + He felt a heaviness in his burning breast, in all his limbs as if the + blood in his veins had become molten lead. + </p> + <p> + “I shall get the yacht off. Three, four days—no, a week.” + </p> + <p> + He found he couldn't do it under a week. It occurred to him he would see + her every day till the yacht was afloat. No, he wouldn't intrude, but he + was master and owner of the brig after all. He didn't mean to skulk like a + whipped cur about his own decks. + </p> + <p> + “It'll be ten days before the schooner is ready. I'll take every scrap of + ballast out of her. I'll strip her—I'll take her lower masts out of + her, by heavens! I'll make sure. Then another week to fit out—and—goodbye. + Wish I had never seen them. Good-bye—forever. Home's the place for + them. Not for me. On another coast she would not have listened. Ah, but + she is a woman—every inch of her. I shall shake hands. Yes. I shall + take her hand—just before she goes. Why the devil not? I am master + here after all—in this brig—as good as any one—by + heavens, better than any one—better than any one on earth.” + </p> + <p> + He heard Shaw walk smartly forward above his head hailing: + </p> + <p> + “What's that—a boat?” + </p> + <p> + A voice answered indistinctly. + </p> + <p> + “One of my boats is back,” thought Lingard. “News about Daman perhaps. I + don't care if he kicks. I wish he would. I would soon show her I can fight + as well as I can handle the brig. Two praus. Only two praus. I wouldn't + mind if there were twenty. I would sweep 'em off the sea—I would + blow 'em out of the water—I would make the brig walk over them. + 'Now,' I'd say to her, 'you who are not afraid, look how it's done!'” + </p> + <p> + He felt light. He had the sensation of being whirled high in the midst of + an uproar and as powerless as a feather in a hurricane. He shuddered + profoundly. His arms hung down, and he stood before the table staring like + a man overcome by some fatal intelligence. + </p> + <p> + Shaw, going into the waist to receive what he thought was one of the + brig's boats, came against Carter making his way aft hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo! Is it you again?” he said, swiftly, barring the way. + </p> + <p> + “I come from the yacht,” began Carter with some impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Where else could you come from?” said Shaw. “And what might you want + now?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to see your skipper.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can't,” declared Shaw, viciously. “He's turned in for the + night.” + </p> + <p> + “He expects me,” said Carter, stamping his foot. “I've got to tell him + what happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you fret yourself, young man,” said Shaw in a superior manner; “he + knows all about it.” + </p> + <p> + They stood suddenly silent in the dark. Carter seemed at a loss what to + do. Shaw, though surprised by it, enjoyed the effect he had produced. + </p> + <p> + “Damn me, if I did not think so,” murmured Carter to himself; then + drawling coolly asked—“And perhaps you know, too?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think? Think I am a dummy here? I ain't mate of this brig for + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you are not,” said Carter with a certain bitterness of tone. “People + do all kinds of queer things for a living, and I am not particular myself, + but I would think twice before taking your billet.” + </p> + <p> + “What? What do you in-si-nu-ate. My billet? You ain't fit for it, you + yacht-swabbing brass-buttoned imposter.” + </p> + <p> + “What's this? Any of our boats back?” asked Lingard from the poop. “Let + the seacannie in charge come to me at once.” + </p> + <p> + “There's only a message from the yacht,” began Shaw, deliberately. + </p> + <p> + “Yacht! Get the deck lamps along here in the waist! See the ladder + lowered. Bear a hand, serang! Mr. Shaw! Burn the flare up aft. Two of + them! Give light to the yacht's boats that will be coming alongside. + Steward! Where's that steward? Turn him out then.” + </p> + <p> + Bare feet began to patter all round Carter. Shadows glided swiftly. + </p> + <p> + “Are these flares coming? Where's the quartermaster on duty?” shouted + Lingard in English and Malay. “This way, come here! Put it on a rocket + stick—can't you? Hold over the side—thus! Stand by with the + lines for the boats forward there. Mr. Shaw—we want more light!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, sir,” called out Shaw, but he did not move, as if dazed by the + vehemence of his commander. + </p> + <p> + “That's what we want,” muttered Carter under his breath. “Imposter! What + do you call yourself?” he said half aloud to Shaw. + </p> + <p> + The ruddy glare of the flares disclosed Lingard from head to foot, + standing at the break of the poop. His head was bare, his face, crudely + lighted, had a fierce and changing expression in the sway of flames. + </p> + <p> + “What can be his game?” thought Carter, impressed by the powerful and wild + aspect of that figure. “He's changed somehow since I saw him first,” he + reflected. It struck him the change was serious, not exactly for the + worse, perhaps—and yet. . . . Lingard smiled at him from the poop. + </p> + <p> + Carter went up the steps and without pausing informed him of what had + happened. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Travers told me to go to you at once. She's very upset as you may + guess,” he drawled, looking Lingard hard in the face. Lingard knitted his + eyebrows. “The hands, too, are scared,” Carter went on. “They fancy the + savages, or whatever they may be who stole the owner, are going to board + the yacht every minute. I don't think so myself but—” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right—most unlikely,” muttered Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, I daresay you know all about it,” continued Carter, coolly, “the men + are startled and no mistake, but I can't blame them very much. There isn't + enough even of carving knives aboard to go round. One old signal gun! A + poor show for better men than they.” + </p> + <p> + “There's no mistake I suppose about this affair?” asked Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Well, unless the gentlemen are having a lark with us at hide and seek. + The man says he waited ten minutes at the point, then pulled slowly along + the bank looking out, expecting to see them walking back. He made the + trunk of a tree apparently stranded on the sand and as he was sculling + past he says a man jumped up from behind that log, flung a stick at him + and went off running. He backed water at once and began to shout, 'Are you + there, sir?' No one answered. He could hear the bushes rustle and some + strange noises like whisperings. It was very dark. After calling out + several times, and waiting on his oars, he got frightened and pulled back + to the yacht. That is clear enough. The only doubt in my mind is if they + are alive or not. I didn't let on to Mrs. Travers. That's a kind of thing + you keep to yourself, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think they are dead,” said Lingard, slowly, and as if thinking of + something else. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! If you say so it's all right,” said Carter with deliberation. + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked Lingard, absently; “fling a stick, did they? Fling a spear!” + </p> + <p> + “That's it!” assented Carter, “but I didn't say anything. I only wondered + if the same kind of stick hadn't been flung at the owner, that's all. But + I suppose you know your business best, Captain.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard, grasping his whole beard, reflected profoundly, erect and with + bowed head in the glare of the flares. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you think it's my doing?” he asked, sharply, without looking + up. + </p> + <p> + Carter surveyed him with a candidly curious gaze. “Well, Captain, Mrs. + Travers did let on a bit to me about our chief-officer's boat. You've + stopped it, haven't you? How she got to know God only knows. She was sorry + she spoke, too, but it wasn't so much of news to me as she thought. I can + put two and two together, sometimes. Those rockets, last night, eh? I + wished I had bitten my tongue out before I told you about our first gig. + But I was taken unawares. Wasn't I? I put it to you: wasn't I? And so I + told her when she asked me what passed between you and me on board this + brig, not twenty-four hours ago. Things look different now, all of a + sudden. Enough to scare a woman, but she is the best man of them all on + board. The others are fairly off the chump because it's a bit dark and + something has happened they ain't used to. But she has something on her + mind. I can't make her out!” He paused, wriggled his shoulders slightly—“No + more than I can make you out,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “That's your trouble, is it?” said Lingard, slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, Captain. Is it all clear to you? Stopping boats, kidnapping + gentlemen. That's fun in a way, only—I am a youngster to you—but + is it all clear to you? Old Robinson wasn't particular, you know, and he—” + </p> + <p> + “Clearer than daylight,” cried Lingard, hotly. “I can't give up—” + </p> + <p> + He checked himself. Carter waited. The flare bearers stood rigid, turning + their faces away from the flame, and in the play of gleams at its foot the + mast near by, like a lofty column, ascended in the great darkness. A lot + of ropes ran up slanting into a dark void and were lost to sight, but high + aloft a brace block gleamed white, the end of a yard-arm could be seen + suspended in the air and as if glowing with its own light. The sky had + clouded over the brig without a breath of wind. + </p> + <p> + “Give up,” repeated Carter with an uneasy shuffle of feet. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody,” finished Lingard. “I can't. It's as clear as daylight. I can't! + No! Nothing!” + </p> + <p> + He stared straight out afar, and after looking at him Carter felt moved by + a bit of youthful intuition to murmur, “That's bad,” in a tone that almost + in spite of himself hinted at the dawning of a befogged compassion. + </p> + <p> + He had a sense of confusion within him, the sense of mystery without. He + had never experienced anything like it all the time when serving with old + Robinson in the Ly-e-moon. And yet he had seen and taken part in some + queer doings that were not clear to him at the time. They were secret but + they suggested something comprehensible. This affair did not. It had + somehow a subtlety that affected him. He was uneasy as if there had been a + breath of magic on events and men giving to this complication of a + yachting voyage a significance impossible to perceive, but felt in the + words, in the gestures, in the events, which made them all strangely, + obscurely startling. + </p> + <p> + He was not one who could keep track of his sensations, and besides he had + not the leisure. He had to answer Lingard's questions about the people of + the yacht. No, he couldn't say Mrs. Travers was what you may call + frightened. She seemed to have something in her mind. Oh, yes! The chaps + were in a funk. Would they fight? Anybody would fight when driven to it, + funk or no funk. That was his experience. Naturally one liked to have + something better than a handspike to do it with. Still—In the pause + Carter seemed to weigh with composure the chances of men with handspikes. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to fight us for?” he asked, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Lingard started. + </p> + <p> + “I don't,” he said; “I wouldn't be asking you.” + </p> + <p> + “There's no saying what you would do, Captain,” replied Carter; “it isn't + twenty-four hours since you wanted to shoot me.” + </p> + <p> + “I only said I would, rather than let you go raising trouble for me,” + explained Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “One night isn't like another,” mumbled Carter, “but how am I to know? It + seems to me you are making trouble for yourself as fast as you can.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, supposing I am,” said Lingard with sudden gloominess. “Would your + men fight if I armed them properly?” + </p> + <p> + “What—for you or for themselves?” asked Carter. + </p> + <p> + “For the woman,” burst out Lingard. “You forget there's a woman on board. + I don't care <i>that</i> for their carcases.” + </p> + <p> + Carter pondered conscientiously. + </p> + <p> + “Not to-night,” he said at last. “There's one or two good men amongst + them, but the rest are struck all of a heap. Not to-night. Give them time + to get steady a bit if you want them to fight.” + </p> + <p> + He gave facts and opinions with a mixture of loyalty and mistrust. His own + state puzzled him exceedingly. He couldn't make out anything, he did not + know what to believe and yet he had an impulsive desire, an inspired + desire to help the man. At times it appeared a necessity—at others + policy; between whiles a great folly, which perhaps did not matter because + he suspected himself of being helpless anyway. Then he had moments of + anger. In those moments he would feel in his pocket the butt of a loaded + pistol. He had provided himself with the weapon, when directed by Mrs. + Travers to go on board the brig. + </p> + <p> + “If he wants to interfere with me, I'll let drive at him and take my + chance of getting away,” he had explained hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + He remembered how startled Mrs. Travers looked. Of course, a woman like + that—not used to hear such talk. Therefore it was no use listening + to her, except for good manners' sake. Once bit twice shy. He had no mind + to be kidnapped, not he, nor bullied either. + </p> + <p> + “I can't let him nab me, too. You will want me now, Mrs. Travers,” he had + said; “and I promise you not to fire off the old thing unless he jolly + well forces me to.” + </p> + <p> + He was youthfully wise in his resolution not to give way to her + entreaties, though her extraordinary agitation did stagger him for a + moment. When the boat was already on its way to the brig, he remembered + her calling out after him: + </p> + <p> + “You must not! You don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice coming faintly in the darkness moved him, it resembled so much a + cry of distress. + </p> + <p> + “Give way, boys, give way,” he urged his men. + </p> + <p> + He was wise, resolute, and he was also youthful enough to almost wish it + should “come to it.” And with foresight he even instructed the boat's crew + to keep the gig just abaft the main rigging of the brig. + </p> + <p> + “When you see me drop into her all of a sudden, shove off and pull for + dear life.” + </p> + <p> + Somehow just then he was not so anxious for a shot, but he held on with a + determined mental grasp to his fine resolution, lest it should slip away + from him and perish in a sea of doubts. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn't I better get back to the yacht?” he asked, gently. + </p> + <p> + Getting no answer he went on with deliberation: + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Travers ordered me to say that no matter how this came about she is + ready to trust you. She is waiting for some kind of answer, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Ready to trust me,” repeated Lingard. His eyes lit up fiercely. + </p> + <p> + Every sway of flares tossed slightly to and fro the massy shadows of the + main deck, where here and there the figure of a man could be seen standing + very still with a dusky face and glittering eyeballs. + </p> + <p> + Carter stole his hand warily into his breast pocket: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Captain,” he said. He was not going to be bullied, let the owner's + wife trust whom she liked. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got anything in writing for me there?” asked Lingard, advancing + a pace, exultingly. + </p> + <p> + Carter, alert, stepped back to keep his distance. Shaw stared from the + side; his rubicund cheeks quivered, his round eyes seemed starting out of + his head, and his mouth was open as though he had been ready to choke with + pent-up curiosity, amazement, and indignation. + </p> + <p> + “No! Not in writing,” said Carter, steadily and low. + </p> + <p> + Lingard had the air of being awakened by a shout. A heavy and darkening + frown seemed to fall out of the night upon his forehead and swiftly passed + into the night again, and when it departed it left him so calm, his glance + so lucid, his mien so composed that it was difficult to believe the man's + heart had undergone within the last second the trial of humiliation and of + danger. He smiled sadly: + </p> + <p> + “Well, young man,” he asked with a kind of good-humoured resignation, + “what is it you have there? A knife or a pistol?” + </p> + <p> + “A pistol,” said Carter. “Are you surprised, Captain?” He spoke with heat + because a sense of regret was stealing slowly within him, as stealthily, + as irresistibly as the flowing tide. “Who began these tricks?” He withdrew + his hand, empty, and raised his voice. “You are up to something I can't + make out. You—you are not straight.” + </p> + <p> + The flares held on high streamed right up without swaying, and in that + instant of profound calm the shadows on the brig's deck became as still as + the men. + </p> + <p> + “You think not?” said Lingard, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + Carter nodded. He resented the turn of the incident and the growing + impulse to surrender to that man. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Travers trusts me though,” went on Lingard with gentle triumph as if + advancing an unanswerable argument. + </p> + <p> + “So she says,” grunted Carter; “I warned her. She's a baby. They're all as + innocent as babies there. And you know it. And I know it. I've heard of + your kind. You would dump the lot of us overboard if it served your turn. + That's what I think.” + </p> + <p> + “And that's all.” + </p> + <p> + Carter nodded slightly and looked away. There was a silence. Lingard's + eyes travelled over the brig. The lighted part of the vessel appeared in + bright and wavering detail walled and canopied by the night. He felt a + light breath on his face. The air was stirring, but the Shallows, silent + and lost in the darkness, gave no sound of life. + </p> + <p> + This stillness oppressed Lingard. The world of his endeavours and his + hopes seemed dead, seemed gone. His desire existed homeless in the + obscurity that had devoured his corner of the sea, this stretch of the + coast, his certitude of success. And here in the midst of what was the + domain of his adventurous soul there was a lost youngster ready to shoot + him on suspicion of some extravagant treachery. Came ready to shoot! + That's good, too! He was too weary to laugh—and perhaps too sad. + Also the danger of the pistol-shot, which he believed real—the young + are rash—irritated him. The night and the spot were full of + contradictions. It was impossible to say who in this shadowy warfare was + to be an enemy, and who were the allies. So close were the contacts + issuing from this complication of a yachting voyage, that he seemed to + have them all within his breast. + </p> + <p> + “Shoot me! He is quite up to that trick—damn him. Yet I would trust + him sooner than any man in that yacht.” + </p> + <p> + Such were his thoughts while he looked at Carter, who was biting his lips, + in the vexation of the long silence. When they spoke again to each other + they talked soberly, with a sense of relief, as if they had come into cool + air from an overheated room and when Carter, dismissed, went into his + boat, he had practically agreed to the line of action traced by Lingard + for the crew of the yacht. He had agreed as if in implicit confidence. It + was one of the absurdities of the situation which had to be accepted and + could never be understood. + </p> + <p> + “Do I talk straight now?” had asked Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “It seems straight enough,” assented Carter with an air of reserve; “I + will work with you so far anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Travers trusts me,” remarked Lingard again. + </p> + <p> + “By the Lord Harry!” cried Carter, giving way suddenly to some latent + conviction. “I was warning her against you. Say, Captain, you are a devil + of a man. How did you manage it?” + </p> + <p> + “I trusted her,” said Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Did you?” cried the amazed Carter. “When? How? Where—” + </p> + <p> + “You know too much already,” retorted Lingard, quietly. “Waste no time. I + will be after you.” + </p> + <p> + Carter whistled low. + </p> + <p> + “There's a pair of you I can't make out,” he called back, hurrying over + the side. + </p> + <p> + Shaw took this opportunity to approach. Beginning with hesitation: “A word + with you, sir,” the mate went on to say he was a respectable man. He + delivered himself in a ringing, unsteady voice. He was married, he had + children, he abhorred illegality. The light played about his obese figure, + he had flung his mushroom hat on the deck, he was not afraid to speak the + truth. The grey moustache stood out aggressively, his glances were uneasy; + he pressed his hands to his stomach convulsively, opened his thick, short + arms wide, wished it to be understood he had been chief-officer of home + ships, with a spotless character and he hoped “quite up to his work.” He + was a peaceable man, none more; disposed to stretch a point when it “came + to a difference with niggers of some kind—they had to be taught + manners and reason” and he was not averse at a pinch to—but here + were white people—gentlemen, ladies, not to speak of the crew. He + had never spoken to a superior like this before, and this was prudence, + his conviction, a point of view, a point of principle, a conscious + superiority and a burst of resentment hoarded through years against all + the successive and unsatisfactory captains of his existence. There never + had been such an opportunity to show he could not be put upon. He had one + of them on a string and he was going to lead him a dance. There was + courage, too, in it, since he believed himself fallen unawares into the + clutches of a particularly desperate man and beyond the reach of law. + </p> + <p> + A certain small amount of calculation entered the audacity of his + remonstrance. Perhaps—it flashed upon him—the yacht's gentry + will hear I stood up for them. This could conceivably be of advantage to a + man who wanted a lift in the world. “Owner of a yacht—badly scared—a + gentleman—money nothing to him.” Thereupon Shaw declared with heat + that he couldn't be an accessory either after or before the fact. Those + that never went home—who had nothing to go to perhaps—he + interjected, hurriedly, could do as they liked. He couldn't. He had a + wife, a family, a little house—paid for—with difficulty. He + followed the sea respectably out and home, all regular, not vagabonding + here and there, chumming with the first nigger that came along and laying + traps for his betters. + </p> + <p> + One of the two flare bearers sighed at his elbow, and shifted his weight + to the other foot. + </p> + <p> + These two had been keeping so perfectly still that the movement was as + startling as if a statue had changed its pose. After looking at the + offender with cold malevolence, Shaw went on to speak of law-courts, of + trials, and of the liberty of the subject; then he pointed out the + certitude and the inconvenience of being found out, affecting for the + moment the dispassionateness of wisdom. + </p> + <p> + “There will be fifteen years in gaol at the end of this job for + everybody,” said Shaw, “and I have a boy that don't know his father yet. + Fine things for him to learn when he grows up. The innocent are dead + certain here to catch it along with you. The missus will break her heart + unless she starves first. Home sold up.” + </p> + <p> + He saw a mysterious iniquity in a dangerous relation to himself and began + to lose his head. What he really wanted was to have his existence left + intact, for his own cherishing and pride. It was a moral aspiration, but + in his alarm the native grossness of his nature came clattering out like a + devil out of a trap. He would blow the gaff, split, give away the whole + show, he would back up honest people, kiss the book, say what he thought, + let all the world know . . . and when he paused to draw breath, all around + him was silent and still. Before the impetus of that respectable passion + his words were scattered like chaff driven by a gale and rushed headlong + into the night of the Shallows. And in the great obscurity, imperturbable, + it heard him say he “washed his hands of everything.” + </p> + <p> + “And the brig?” asked Lingard, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Shaw was checked. For a second the seaman in him instinctively admitted + the claim of the ship. + </p> + <p> + “The brig. The brig. She's right enough,” he mumbled. He had nothing to + say against the brig—not he. She wasn't like the big ships he was + used to, but of her kind the best craft he ever. . . . And with a brusque + return upon himself, he protested that he had been decoyed on board under + false pretences. It was as bad as being shanghaied when in liquor. It was—upon + his soul. And into a craft next thing to a pirate! That was the name for + it or his own name was not Shaw. He said this glaring owlishly. Lingard, + perfectly still and mute, bore the blows without a sign. + </p> + <p> + The silly fuss of that man seared his very soul. There was no end to this + plague of fools coming to him from the forgotten ends of the earth. A + fellow like that could not be told. No one could be told. Blind they came + and blind they would go out. He admitted reluctantly, but without doubt, + that as if pushed by a force from outside he would have to try and save + two of them. To this end he foresaw the probable need of leaving his brig + for a time. He would have to leave her with that man. The mate. He had + engaged him himself—to make his insurance valid—to be able + sometimes to speak—to have near him. Who would have believed such a + fool-man could exist on the face of the sea! Who? Leave the brig with him. + The brig! + </p> + <p> + Ever since sunset, the breeze kept off by the heat of the day had been + trying to re-establish in the darkness its sway over the Shoals. Its + approaches had been heard in the night, its patient murmurs, its foiled + sighs; but now a surprisingly heavy puff came in a free rush as if, far + away there to the northward, the last defence of the calm had been + victoriously carried. The flames borne down streamed bluishly, horizontal + and noisy at the end of tall sticks, like fluttering pennants; and behold, + the shadows on the deck went mad and jostled each other as if trying to + escape from a doomed craft, the darkness, held up dome-like by the + brilliant glare, seemed to tumble headlong upon the brig in an + overwhelming downfall, the men stood swaying as if ready to fall under the + ruins of a black and noiseless disaster. The blurred outlines of the brig, + the masts, the rigging, seemed to shudder in the terror of coming + extinction—and then the darkness leaped upward again, the shadows + returned to their places, the men were seen distinct, swarthy, with calm + faces, with glittering eyeballs. The destruction in the breath had passed, + was gone. + </p> + <p> + A discord of three voices raised together in a drawling wail trailed on + the sudden immobility of the air. + </p> + <p> + “Brig ahoy! Give us a rope!” + </p> + <p> + The first boat-load from the yacht emerged floating slowly into the pool + of purple light wavering round the brig on the black water. Two men + squeezed in the bows pulled uncomfortably; in the middle, on a heap of + seamen's canvas bags, another sat, insecure, propped with both arms, + stiff-legged, angularly helpless. The light from the poop brought + everything out in lurid detail, and the boat floating slowly toward the + brig had a suspicious and pitiful aspect. The shabby load lumbering her + looked somehow as if it had been stolen by those men who resembled + castaways. In the sternsheets Carter, standing up, steered with his leg. + He had a smile of youthful sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + “Here they are!” he cried to Lingard. “You've got your own way, Captain. I + thought I had better come myself with the first precious lot—” + </p> + <p> + “Pull around the stern. The brig's on the swing,” interrupted Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye! We'll try not to smash the brig. We would be lost indeed if—fend + off there, John; fend off, old reliable, if you care a pin for your salty + hide. I like the old chap,” he said, when he stood by Lingard's side + looking down at the boat which was being rapidly cleared by whites and + Malays working shoulder to shoulder in silence. “I like him. He don't + belong to that yachting lot either. They picked him up on the road + somewhere. Look at the old dog—carved out of a ship's timber—as + talkative as a fish—grim as a gutted wreck. That's the man for me. + All the others there are married, or going to be, or ought to be, or sorry + they ain't. Every man jack of them has a petticoat in tow—dash me! + Never heard in all my travels such a jabber about wives and kids. Hurry up + with your dunnage—below there! Aye! I had no difficulty in getting + them to clear out from the yacht. They never saw a pair of gents stolen + before—you understand. It upset all their little notions of what a + stranding means, hereabouts. Not that mine aren't mixed a bit, too—and + yet I've seen a thing or two.” + </p> + <p> + His excitement was revealed in this boyish impulse to talk. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” he said, pointing at the growing pile of bags and bedding on the + brig's quarter-deck. “Look. Don't they mean to sleep soft—and dream + of home—maybe. Home. Think of that, Captain. These chaps can't get + clear away from it. It isn't like you and me—” + </p> + <p> + Lingard made a movement. + </p> + <p> + “I ran away myself when so high. My old man's a Trinity pilot. That's a + job worth staying at home for. Mother writes sometimes, but they can't + miss me much. There's fourteen of us altogether—eight at home yet. + No fear of the old country ever getting undermanned—let die who + must. Only let it be a fair game, Captain. Let's have a fair show.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard assured him briefly he should have it. That was the very reason he + wanted the yacht's crew in the brig, he added. Then quiet and grave he + inquired whether that pistol was still in Carter's pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind that,” said the young man, hurriedly. “Remember who began. To + be shot at wouldn't rile me so much—it's being threatened, don't you + see, that was heavy on my chest. Last night is very far off though—and + I will be hanged if I know what I meant exactly when I took the old thing + from its nail. There. More I can't say till all's settled one way or + another. Will that do?” + </p> + <p> + Flushing brick red, he suspended his judgment and stayed his hand with the + generosity of youth. + </p> + <p> + . . . . . . . + </p> + <p> + Apparently it suited Lingard to be reprieved in that form. He bowed his + head slowly. It would do. To leave his life to that youngster's ignorance + seemed to redress the balance of his mind against a lot of secret + intentions. It was distasteful and bitter as an expiation should be. He + also held a life in his hand; a life, and many deaths besides, but these + were like one single feather in the scales of his conscience. That he + should feel so was unavoidable because his strength would at no price + permit itself to be wasted. It would not be—and there was an end of + it. All he could do was to throw in another risk into the sea of risks. + Thus was he enabled to recognize that a drop of water in the ocean makes a + great difference. His very desire, unconquered, but exiled, had left the + place where he could constantly hear its voice. He saw it, he saw himself, + the past, the future, he saw it all, shifting and indistinct like those + shapes the strained eye of a wanderer outlines in darker strokes upon the + face of the night. + </p> + <p> + X + </p> + <p> + When Lingard went to his boat to follow Carter, who had gone back to the + yacht, Wasub, mast and sail on shoulder, preceded him down the ladder. The + old man leaped in smartly and busied himself in getting the dinghy ready + for his commander. + </p> + <p> + In that little boat Lingard was accustomed to traverse the Shallows alone. + She had a short mast and a lug-sail, carried two easily, floated in a few + inches of water. In her he was independent of a crew, and, if the wind + failed, could make his way with a pair of sculls taking short cuts over + shoal places. There were so many islets and sandbanks that in case of + sudden bad weather there was always a lee to be found, and when he wished + to land he could pull her up a beach, striding ahead, painter in hand, + like a giant child dragging a toy boat. When the brig was anchored within + the Shallows it was in her that he visited the lagoon. Once, when caught + by a sudden freshening of the sea-breeze, he had waded up a shelving bank + carrying her on his head and for two days they had rested together on the + sand, while around them the shallow waters raged lividly, and across three + miles of foam the brig would time after time dissolve in the mist and + re-appear distinct, nodding her tall spars that seemed to touch a weeping + sky of lamentable greyness. + </p> + <p> + Whenever he came into the lagoon tugging with bare arms, Jorgenson, who + would be watching the entrance of the creek ever since a muffled + detonation of a gun to seaward had warned him of the brig's arrival on the + Shore of Refuge, would mutter to himself—“Here's Tom coming in his + nutshell.” And indeed she was in shape somewhat like half a nutshell and + also in the colour of her dark varnished planks. The man's shoulders and + head rose high above her gunwales; loaded with Lingard's heavy frame she + would climb sturdily the steep ridges, slide squatting into the hollows of + the sea, or, now and then, take a sedate leap over a short wave. Her + behaviour had a stout trustworthiness about it, and she reminded one of a + surefooted mountain-pony carrying over difficult ground a rider much + bigger than himself. + </p> + <p> + Wasub wiped the thwarts, ranged the mast and sail along the side, shipped + the rowlocks. Lingard looked down at his old servant's spare shoulders + upon which the light from above fell unsteady but vivid. Wasub worked for + the comfort of his commander and his singleminded absorption in that task + flashed upon Lingard the consolation of an act of friendliness. The + elderly Malay at last lifted his head with a deferential murmur; his + wrinkled old face with half a dozen wiry hairs pendulous at each corner of + the dark lips expressed a kind of weary satisfaction, and the slightly + oblique worn eyes stole a discreet upward glance containing a hint of some + remote meaning. Lingard found himself compelled by the justice of that + obscure claim to murmur as he stepped into the boat: + </p> + <p> + “These are times of danger.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down and took up the sculls. Wasub held on to the gunwale as to a + last hope of a further confidence. He had served in the brig five years. + Lingard remembered that very well. This aged figure had been intimately + associated with the brig's life and with his own, appearing silently ready + for every incident and emergency in an unquestioning expectation of + orders; symbolic of blind trust in his strength, of an unlimited obedience + to his will. Was it unlimited? + </p> + <p> + “We shall require courage and fidelity,” added Lingard, in a tentative + tone. + </p> + <p> + “There are those who know me,” snapped the old man, readily, as if the + words had been waiting for a long time. “Observe, Tuan. I have filled with + fresh water the little breaker in the bows.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you, too,” said Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “And the wind—and the sea,” ejaculated the serang, jerkily. “These + also are faithful to the strong. By Allah! I who am a pilgrim and have + listened to words of wisdom in many places, I tell you, Tuan, there is + strength in the knowledge of what is hidden in things without life, as + well as in the living men. Will Tuan be gone long?” + </p> + <p> + “I come back in a short time—together with the rest of the whites + from over there. This is the beginning of many stratagems. Wasub! Daman, + the son of a dog, has suddenly made prisoners two of my own people. My + face is made black.” + </p> + <p> + “Tse! Tse! What ferocity is that! One should not offer shame to a friend + or to a friend's brother lest revenge come sweeping like a flood. Yet can + an Illanun chief be other than tyrannical? My old eyes have seen much but + they never saw a tiger change its stripes. Ya-wa! The tiger can not. This + is the wisdom of us ignorant Malay men. The wisdom of white Tuans is + great. They think that by the power of many speeches the tiger may—” + He broke off and in a crisp, busy tone said: “The rudder dwells safely + under the aftermost seat should Tuan be pleased to sail the boat. This + breeze will not die away before sunrise.” Again his voice changed as if + two different souls had been flitting in and out of his body. “No, no, + kill the tiger and then the stripes may be counted without fear—one + by one, thus.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed a frail brown finger and, abruptly, made a mirthless dry sound + as if a rattle had been sprung in his throat. + </p> + <p> + “The wretches are many,” said Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Tuan. They follow their great men even as we in the brig follow you. + That is right.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard reflected for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “My men will follow me then,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “They are poor calashes without sense,” commented Wasub with pitying + superiority. “Some with no more comprehension than men of the bush freshly + caught. There is Sali, the foolish son of my sister and by your great + favour appointed to mind the tiller of this ship. His stupidity is + extreme, but his eyes are good—nearly as good as mine that by + praying and much exercise can see far into the night.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard laughed low and then looked earnestly at the serang. Above their + heads a man shook a flare over the side and a thin shower of sparks + floated downward and expired before touching the water. + </p> + <p> + “So you can see in the night, O serang! Well, then, look and speak. Speak! + Fight—or no fight? Weapons or words? Which folly? Well, what do you + see?” + </p> + <p> + “A darkness, a darkness,” whispered Wasub at last in a frightened tone. + “There are nights—” He shook his head and muttered. “Look. The tide + has turned. Ya, Tuan. The tide has turned.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard looked downward where the water could be seen, gliding past the + ship's side, moving smoothly, streaked with lines of froth, across the + illumined circle thrown round the brig by the lights on her poop. Air + bubbles sparkled, lines of darkness, ripples of glitter appeared, glided, + went astern without a splash, without a trickle, without a plaint, without + a break. The unchecked gentleness of the flow captured the eye by a subtle + spell, fastened insidiously upon the mind a disturbing sense of the + irretrievable. The ebbing of the sea athwart the lonely sheen of flames + resembled the eternal ebb-tide of time; and when at last Lingard looked + up, the knowledge of that noiseless passage of the waters produced on his + mind a bewildering effect. For a moment the speck of light lost in vast + obscurity the brig, the boat, the hidden coast, the Shallows, the very + walls and roof of darkness—the seen and the unseen alike seemed to + be gliding smoothly onward through the enormous gloom of space. Then, with + a great mental effort, he brought everything to a sudden standstill; and + only the froth and bubbles went on streaming past ceaselessly, unchecked + by the power of his will. + </p> + <p> + “The tide has turned—you say, serang? Has it—? Well, perhaps + it has, perhaps it has,” he finished, muttering to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Truly it has. Can not Tuan see it run under his own eyes?” said Wasub + with an alarmed earnestness. “Look. Now it is in my mind that a prau + coming from amongst the southern islands, if steered cunningly in the free + set of the current, would approach the bows of this, our brig, drifting + silently as a shape without a substance.” + </p> + <p> + “And board suddenly—is that it?” said Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Daman is crafty and the Illanuns are very bloodthirsty. Night is nothing + to them. They are certainly valorous. Are they not born in the midst of + fighting and are they not inspired by the evil of their hearts even before + they can speak? And their chiefs would be leading them while you, Tuan, + are going from us even now—” + </p> + <p> + “You don't want me to go?” asked Lingard. + </p> + <p> + For a time Wasub listened attentively to the profound silence. + </p> + <p> + “Can we fight without a leader?” he began again. “It is the belief in + victory that gives courage. And what would poor calashes do, sons of + peasants and fishermen, freshly caught—without knowledge? They + believe in your strength—and in your power—or else—Will + those whites that came so suddenly avenge you? They are here like fish + within the stakes. Ya-wa! Who will bring the news and who will come to + find the truth and perchance to carry off your body? You go alone, Tuan!” + </p> + <p> + “There must be no fighting. It would be a calamity,” insisted Lingard. + “There is blood that must not be spilt.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear, Tuan!” exclaimed Wasub with heat. “The waters are running out now.” + He punctuated his speech by slight jerks at the dinghy. “The waters go and + at the appointed time they shall return. And if between their going and + coming the blood of all the men in the world were poured into it, the sea + would not rise higher at the full by the breadth of my finger nail.” + </p> + <p> + “But the world would not be the same. You do not see that, serang. Give + the boat a good shove.” + </p> + <p> + “Directly,” said the old Malay and his face became impassive. “Tuan knows + when it is best to go, and death sometimes retreats before a firm tread + like a startled snake. Tuan should take a follower with him, not a silly + youth, but one who has lived—who has a steady heart—who would + walk close behind watchfully—and quietly. Yes. Quietly and with + quick eyes—like mine—perhaps with a weapon—I know how to + strike.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard looked at the wrinkled visage very near his own and into the + peering old eyes. They shone strangely. A tense eagerness was expressed in + the squatting figure leaning out toward him. On the other side, within + reach of his arm, the night stood like a wall -discouraging—opaque—impenetrable. + No help would avail. The darkness he had to combat was too impalpable to + be cleft by a blow—too dense to be pierced by the eye; yet as if by + some enchantment in the words that made this vain offer of fidelity, it + became less overpowering to his sight, less crushing to his thought. He + had a moment of pride which soothed his heart for the space of two beats. + His unreasonable and misjudged heart, shrinking before the menace of + failure, expanded freely with a sense of generous gratitude. In the + threatening dimness of his emotions this man's offer made a point of + clearness, the glimmer of a torch held aloft in the night. It was + priceless, no doubt, but ineffectual; too small, too far, too solitary. It + did not dispel the mysterious obscurity that had descended upon his + fortunes so that his eyes could no longer see the work of his hands. The + sadness of defeat pervaded the world. + </p> + <p> + “And what could you do, O Wasub?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I could always call out—'Take care, Tuan.'” + </p> + <p> + “And then for these charm-words of mine. Hey? Turn danger aside? What? But + perchance you would die all the same. Treachery is a strong magic, too—as + you said.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed! The order might come to your servant. But I—Wasub—the + son of a free man, a follower of Rajahs, a fugitive, a slave, a pilgrim—diver + for pearls, serang of white men's ships, I have had too many masters. Too + many. You are the last.” After a silence he said in an almost indifferent + voice: “If you go, Tuan, let us go together.” + </p> + <p> + For a time Lingard made no sound. + </p> + <p> + “No use,” he said at last. “No use, serang. One life is enough to pay for + a man's folly—and you have a household.” + </p> + <p> + “I have two—Tuan; but it is a long time since I sat on the ladder of + a house to talk at ease with neighbours. Yes. Two households; one in—” + Lingard smiled faintly. “Tuan, let me follow you.” + </p> + <p> + “No. You have said it, serang—I am alone. That is true, and alone I + shall go on this very night. But first I must bring all the white people + here. Push.” + </p> + <p> + “Ready, Tuan? Look out!” + </p> + <p> + Wasub's body swung over the sea with extended arms. Lingard caught up the + sculls, and as the dinghy darted away from the brig's side he had a + complete view of the lighted poop—Shaw leaning massively over the + taffrail in sulky dejection, the flare bearers erect and rigid, the heads + along the rail, the eyes staring after him above the bulwarks. The + fore-end of the brig was wrapped in a lurid and sombre mistiness; the + sullen mingling of darkness and of light; her masts pointing straight up + could be tracked by torn gleams and vanished above as if the trucks had + been tall enough to pierce the heavy mass of vapours motionless overhead. + She was beautifully precious. His loving eyes saw her floating at rest in + a wavering halo, between an invisible sky and an invisible sea, like a + miraculous craft suspended in the air. He turned his head away as if the + sight had been too much for him at the moment of separation, and, as soon + as his little boat had passed beyond the limit of the light thrown upon + the water, he perceived very low in the black void of the west the stern + lantern of the yacht shining feebly like a star about to set, + unattainable, infinitely remote—belonging to another universe. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART4" id="link2H_PART4"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART IV. THE GIFT OF THE SHALLOWS + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + Lingard brought Mrs. Travers away from the yacht, going alone with her in + the little boat. During the bustle of the embarkment, and till the last of + the crew had left the schooner, he had remained towering and silent by her + side. It was only when the murmuring and uneasy voices of the sailors + going away in the boats had been completely lost in the distance that his + voice was heard, grave in the silence, pronouncing the words—“Follow + me.” She followed him; their footsteps rang hollow and loud on the empty + deck. At the bottom of the steps he turned round and said very low: + </p> + <p> + “Take care.” + </p> + <p> + He got into the boat and held on. It seemed to him that she was + intimidated by the darkness. She felt her arm gripped firmly—“I've + got you,” he said. She stepped in, headlong, trusting herself blindly to + his grip, and sank on the stern seat catching her breath a little. She + heard a slight splash, and the indistinct side of the deserted yacht + melted suddenly into the body of the night. + </p> + <p> + Rowing, he faced her, a hooded and cloaked shape, and above her head he + had before his eyes the gleam of the stern lantern expiring slowly on the + abandoned vessel. When it went out without a warning flicker he could see + nothing of the stranded yacht's outline. She had vanished utterly like a + dream; and the occurrences of the last twenty-four hours seemed also to be + a part of a vanished dream. The hooded and cloaked figure was part of it, + too. It spoke not; it moved not; it would vanish presently. Lingard tried + to remember Mrs. Travers' features, even as she sat within two feet of him + in the boat. He seemed to have taken from that vanished schooner not a + woman but a memory—the tormenting recollection of a human being he + would see no more. + </p> + <p> + At every stroke of the short sculls Mrs. Travers felt the boat leap + forward with her. Lingard, to keep his direction, had to look over his + shoulder frequently—“You will be safe in the brig,” he said. She was + silent. A dream! A dream! He lay back vigorously; the water slapped loudly + against the blunt bows. The ruddy glow thrown afar by the flares was + reflected deep within the hood. The dream had a pale visage, the memory + had living eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I had to come for you myself,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I expected it of you.” These were the first words he had heard her say + since they had met for the third time. + </p> + <p> + “And I swore—before you, too—that I would never put my foot on + board your craft.” + </p> + <p> + “It was good of you to—” she began. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot somehow,” he said, simply. + </p> + <p> + “I expected it of you,” she repeated. He gave three quick strokes before + he asked very gently: + </p> + <p> + “What more do you expect?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything,” she said. He was rounding then the stern of the brig and had + to look away. Then he turned to her. + </p> + <p> + “And you trust me to—” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I would like to trust you,” she interrupted, “because—” + </p> + <p> + Above them a startled voice cried in Malay, “Captain coming.” The strange + sound silenced her. Lingard laid in his sculls and she saw herself gliding + under the high side of the brig. A dark, staring face appeared very near + her eyes, black fingers caught the gunwale of the boat. She stood up + swaying. “Take care,” said Lingard again, but this time, in the light, did + not offer to help her. She went up alone and he followed her over the + rail. + </p> + <p> + The quarter-deck was thronged by men of two races. Lingard and Mrs. + Travers crossed it rapidly between the groups that moved out of the way on + their passage. Lingard threw open the cabin door for her, but remained on + deck to inquire about his boats. They had returned while he was on board + the yacht, and the two men in charge of them came aft to make their + reports. The boat sent north had seen nothing. The boat which had been + directed to explore the banks and islets to the south had actually been in + sight of Daman's praus. The man in charge reported that several fires were + burning on the shore, the crews of the two praus being encamped on a + sandbank. Cooking was going on. They had been near enough to hear the + voices. There was a man keeping watch on the ridge; they knew this because + they heard him shouting to the people below, by the fires. Lingard wanted + to know how they had managed to remain unseen. “The night was our hiding + place,” answered the man in his deep growling voice. He knew nothing of + any white men being in Daman's camp. Why should there be? Rajah Hassim and + the Lady, his sister, appeared unexpectedly near his boat in their canoe. + Rajah Hassim had ordered him then in whispers to go back to the brig at + once, and tell Tuan what he had observed. Rajah Hassim said also that he + would return to the brig with more news very soon. He obeyed because the + Rajah was to him a person of authority, “having the perfect knowledge of + Tuan's mind as we all know.”—“Enough,” cried Lingard, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + The man looked up heavily for a moment, and retreated forward without + another word. Lingard followed him with irritated eyes. A new power had + come into the world, had possessed itself of human speech, had imparted to + it a sinister irony of allusion. To be told that someone had “a perfect + knowledge of his mind” startled him and made him wince. It made him aware + that now he did not know his mind himself—that it seemed impossible + for him ever to regain that knowledge. And the new power not only had cast + its spell upon the words he had to hear, but also upon the facts that + assailed him, upon the people he saw, upon the thoughts he had to guide, + upon the feelings he had to bear. They remained what they had ever been—the + visible surface of life open in the sun to the conquering tread of an + unfettered will. Yesterday they could have been discerned clearly, + mastered and despised; but now another power had come into the world, and + had cast over them all the wavering gloom of a dark and inscrutable + purpose. + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + Recovering himself with a slight start Lingard gave the order to + extinguish all the lights in the brig. Now the transfer of the crew from + the yacht had been effected there was every advantage in the darkness. He + gave the order from instinct, it being the right thing to do in the + circumstances. His thoughts were in the cabin of his brig, where there was + a woman waiting. He put his hand over his eyes, collecting himself as if + before a great mental effort. He could hear about him the excited murmurs + of the white men whom in the morning he had so ardently desired to have + safe in his keeping. He had them there now; but accident, ill-luck, a + cursed folly, had tricked him out of the success of his plan. He would + have to go in and talk to Mrs. Travers. The idea dismayed him. Of + necessity he was not one of those men who have the mastery of expression. + To liberate his soul was for him a gigantic undertaking, a matter of + desperate effort, of doubtful success. “I must have it out with her,” he + murmured to himself as though at the prospect of a struggle. He was + uncertain of himself, of her; he was uncertain of everything and + everybody; but he was very certain he wanted to look at her. + </p> + <p> + At the moment he turned to the door of the cabin both flares went out + together and the black vault of the night upheld above the brig by the + fierce flames fell behind him and buried the deck in sudden darkness. The + buzz of strange voices instantly hummed louder with a startled note. + “Hallo!”—“Can't see a mortal thing”—“Well, what next?”—insisted + a voice—“I want to know what next?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard checked himself ready to open the door and waited absurdly for the + answer as though in the hope of some suggestion. “What's up with you? + Think yourself lucky,” said somebody.—“It's all very well—for + to-night,” began the voice.—“What are you fashing yourself for?” + remonstrated the other, reasonably, “we'll get home right enough.”—“I + am not so sure; the second mate he says—” “Never mind what he says; + that 'ere man who has got this brig will see us through. The owner's wife + will talk to him—she will. Money can do a lot.” The two voices came + nearer, and spoke more distinctly, close behind Lingard. “Suppose them + blooming savages set fire to the yacht. What's to prevent them?”—“And + suppose they do. This 'ere brig's good enough to get away in. Ain't she? + Guns and all. We'll get home yet all right. What do you say, John?” + </p> + <p> + “I say nothing and care less,” said a third voice, peaceful and faint. + </p> + <p> + “D'you mean to say, John, you would go to the bottom as soon as you would + go home? Come now!”—“To the bottom,” repeated the wan voice, + composedly. “Aye! That's where we all are going to, in one way or another. + The way don't matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Ough! You would give the blues to the funny man of a blooming circus. + What would my missus say if I wasn't to turn up never at all?”—“She + would get another man; there's always plenty of fools about.” A quiet and + mirthless chuckle was heard in the pause of shocked silence. Lingard, with + his hand on the door, remained still. Further off a growl burst out: “I do + hate to be chucked in the dark aboard a strange ship. I wonder where they + keep their fresh water. Can't get any sense out of them silly niggers. We + don't seem to be more account here than a lot of cattle. Likely as not + we'll have to berth on this blooming quarter-deck for God knows how long.” + Then again very near Lingard the first voice said, deadened discreetly—“There's + something curious about this here brig turning up sudden-like, ain't + there? And that skipper of her—now? What kind of a man is he—anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's one of them skippers going about loose. The brig's his own, I am + thinking. He just goes about in her looking for what he may pick up honest + or dishonest. My brother-in-law has served two commissions in these seas, + and was telling me awful yarns about what's going on in them God-forsaken + parts. Likely he lied, though. Them man-of-war's men are a holy terror for + yarns. Bless you, what do I care who this skipper is? Let him do his best + and don't trouble your head. You won't see him again in your life once we + get clear.” + </p> + <p> + “And can he do anything for the owner?” asked the first voice again.—“Can + he! We can do nothing—that's one thing certain. The owner may be + lying clubbed to death this very minute for all we know. By all accounts + these savages here are a crool murdering lot. Mind you, I am sorry for him + as much as anybody.”—“Aye, aye,” muttered the other, approvingly.—“He + may not have been ready, poor man,” began again the reasonable voice. + Lingard heard a deep sigh.—“If there's anything as can be done for + him, the owner's wife she's got to fix it up with this 'ere skipper. Under + Providence he may serve her turn.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard flung open the cabin door, entered, and, with a slam, shut the + darkness out. + </p> + <p> + “I am, under Providence, to serve your turn,” he said after standing very + still for a while, with his eyes upon Mrs. Travers. The brig's swing-lamp + lighted the cabin with an extraordinary brilliance. Mrs. Travers had + thrown back her hood. The radiant brightness of the little place enfolded + her so close, clung to her with such force that it might have been part of + her very essence. There were no shadows on her face; it was fiercely + lighted, hermetically closed, of impenetrable fairness. + </p> + <p> + Lingard looked in unconscious ecstasy at this vision, so amazing that it + seemed to have strayed into his existence from beyond the limits of the + conceivable. It was impossible to guess her thoughts, to know her + feelings, to understand her grief or her joy. But she knew all that was at + the bottom of his heart. He had told her himself, impelled by a sudden + thought, going to her in darkness, in desperation, in absurd hope, in + incredible trust. He had told her what he had told no one on earth, except + perhaps, at times, himself, but without words—less clearly. He had + told her and she had listened in silence. She had listened leaning over + the rail till at last her breath was on his forehead. He remembered this + and had a moment of soaring pride and of unutterable dismay. He spoke, + with an effort. + </p> + <p> + “You've heard what I said just now? Here I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you expect me to say something?” she asked. “Is it necessary? Is it + possible?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered. “It is said already. I know what you expect from me. + Everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Everything,” she repeated, paused, and added much lower, “It is the very + least.” He seemed to lose himself in thought. + </p> + <p> + “It is extraordinary,” he reflected half aloud, “how I dislike that man.” + She leaned forward a little. + </p> + <p> + “Remember those two men are innocent,” she began. + </p> + <p> + “So am I—innocent. So is everybody in the world. Have you ever met a + man or a woman that was not? They've got to take their chances all the + same.” + </p> + <p> + “I expect you to be generous,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “To you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—to me. Yes—if you like to me alone.” + </p> + <p> + “To you alone! And you know everything!” His voice dropped. “You want your + happiness.” + </p> + <p> + She made an impatient movement and he saw her clench the hand that was + lying on the table. + </p> + <p> + “I want my husband back,” she said, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Yes. It's what I was saying. Same thing,” he muttered with strange + placidity. She looked at him searchingly. He had a large simplicity that + filled one's vision. She found herself slowly invaded by this masterful + figure. He was not mediocre. Whatever he might have been he was not + mediocre. The glamour of a lawless life stretched over him like the sky + over the sea down on all sides to an unbroken horizon. Within, he moved + very lonely, dangerous and romantic. There was in him crime, sacrifice, + tenderness, devotion, and the madness of a fixed idea. She thought with + wonder that of all the men in the world he was indeed the one she knew the + best and yet she could not foresee the speech or the act of the next + minute. She said distinctly: + </p> + <p> + “You've given me your confidence. Now I want you to give me the life of + these two men. The life of two men whom you do not know, whom to-morrow + you will forget. It can be done. It must be done. You cannot refuse them + to me.” She waited. + </p> + <p> + “Why can't I refuse?” he whispered, gloomily, without looking up. + </p> + <p> + “You ask!” she exclaimed. He made no sign. He seemed at a loss for words. + </p> + <p> + “You ask . . . Ah!” she cried. “Don't you see that I have no kingdoms to + conquer?” + </p> + <p> + III + </p> + <p> + A slight change of expression which passed away almost directly showed + that Lingard heard the passionate cry wrung from her by the distress of + her mind. He made no sign. She perceived clearly the extreme difficulty of + her position. The situation was dangerous; not so much the facts of it as + the feeling of it. At times it appeared no more actual than a tradition; + and she thought of herself as of some woman in a ballad, who has to beg + for the lives of innocent captives. To save the lives of Mr. Travers and + Mr. d'Alcacer was more than a duty. It was a necessity, it was an + imperative need, it was an irresistible mission. Yet she had to reflect + upon the horrors of a cruel and obscure death before she could feel for + them the pity they deserved. It was when she looked at Lingard that her + heart was wrung by an extremity of compassion. The others were pitiful, + but he, the victim of his own extravagant impulses, appeared tragic, + fascinating, and culpable. Lingard lifted his head. Whispers were heard at + the door and Hassim followed by Immada entered the cabin. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers looked at Lingard, because of all the faces in the cabin his + was the only one that was intelligible to her. Hassim began to speak at + once, and when he ceased Immada's deep sigh was heard in the sudden + silence. Then Lingard looked at Mrs. Travers and said: + </p> + <p> + “The gentlemen are alive. Rajah Hassim here has seen them less than two + hours ago, and so has the girl. They are alive and unharmed, so far. And + now. . . .” + </p> + <p> + He paused. Mrs. Travers, leaning on her elbow, shaded her eyes under the + glint of suspended thunderbolts. + </p> + <p> + “You must hate us,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Hate you,” he repeated with, as she fancied, a tinge of disdain in his + tone. “No. I hate myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Why yourself?” she asked, very low. + </p> + <p> + “For not knowing my mind,” he answered. “For not knowing my mind. For not + knowing what it is that's got hold of me since—since this morning. I + was angry then. . . . Nothing but very angry. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “And now?” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I am . . . unhappy,” he said. After a moment of silence which gave to + Mrs. Travers the time to wonder how it was that this man had succeeded in + penetrating into the very depths of her compassion, he hit the table such + a blow that all the heavy muskets seemed to jump a little. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers heard Hassim pronounce a few words earnestly, and a moan of + distress from Immada. + </p> + <p> + “I believed in you before you . . . before you gave me your confidence,” + she began. “You could see that. Could you not?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her fixedly. “You are not the first that believed in me,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + Hassim, lounging with his back against the closed door, kept his eye on + him watchfully and Immada's dark and sorrowful eyes rested on the face of + the white woman. Mrs. Travers felt as though she were engaged in a contest + with them; in a struggle for the possession of that man's strength and of + that man's devotion. When she looked up at Lingard she saw on his face—which + should have been impassive or exalted, the face of a stern leader or the + face of a pitiless dreamer—an expression of utter forgetfulness. He + seemed to be tasting the delight of some profound and amazing sensation. + And suddenly in the midst of her appeal to his generosity, in the middle + of a phrase, Mrs. Travers faltered, becoming aware that she was the object + of his contemplation. + </p> + <p> + “Do not! Do not look at that woman!” cried Immada. “O! Master—look + away. . . .” Hassim threw one arm round the girl's neck. Her voice sank. + “O! Master—look at us.” Hassim, drawing her to himself, covered her + lips with his hand. She struggled a little like a snared bird and + submitted, hiding her face on his shoulder, very quiet, sobbing without + noise. + </p> + <p> + “What do they say to you?” asked Mrs. Travers with a faint and pained + smile. “What can they say? It is intolerable to think that their words + which have no meaning for me may go straight to your heart. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Look away,” whispered Lingard without making the slightest movement. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is very hard to think that I who want to touch you cannot make + myself understood as well as they. And yet I speak the language of your + childhood, the language of the man for whom there is no hope but in your + generosity.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. She gazed at him anxiously for a moment. “In your + memories then,” she said and was surprised by the expression of profound + sadness that over-spread his attentive face. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what I remember?” he said. “Do you want to know?” She + listened with slightly parted lips. “I will tell you. Poverty, hard work—and + death,” he went on, very quietly. “And now I've told you, and you don't + know. That's how it is between us. You talk to me—I talk to you—and + we don't know.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyelids dropped. + </p> + <p> + “What can I find to say?” she went on. “What can I do? I mustn't give in. + Think! Amongst your memories there must be some face—some voice—some + name, if nothing more. I can not believe that there is nothing but + bitterness.” + </p> + <p> + “There's no bitterness,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “O! Brother, my heart is faint with fear,” whispered Immada. Lingard + turned swiftly to that whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Then, they are to be saved,” exclaimed Mrs. Travers. “Ah, I knew. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Bear thy fear in patience,” said Hassim, rapidly, to his sister. + </p> + <p> + “They are to be saved. You have said it,” Lingard pronounced aloud, + suddenly. He felt like a swimmer who, in the midst of superhuman efforts + to reach the shore, perceives that the undertow is taking him to sea. He + would go with the mysterious current; he would go swiftly—and see + the end, the fulfilment both blissful and terrible. + </p> + <p> + With this state of exaltation in which he saw himself in some + incomprehensible way always victorious, whatever might befall, there was + mingled a tenacity of purpose. He could not sacrifice his intention, the + intention of years, the intention of his life; he could no more part with + it and exist than he could cut out his heart and live. The adventurer held + fast to his adventure which made him in his own sight exactly what he was. + </p> + <p> + He considered the problem with cool audacity, backed by a belief in his + own power. It was not these two men he had to save; he had to save + himself! And looked upon in this way the situation appeared familiar. + </p> + <p> + Hassim had told him the two white men had been taken by their captors to + Daman's camp. The young Rajah, leaving his sister in the canoe, had landed + on the sand and had crept to the very edge of light thrown by the fires by + which the Illanuns were cooking. Daman was sitting apart by a larger + blaze. Two praus rode in shallow water near the sandbank; on the ridge, a + sentry walked watching the lights of the brig; the camp was full of quiet + whispers. Hassim returned to his canoe, then he and his sister, paddling + cautiously round the anchored praus, in which women's voices could be + heard, approached the other end of the camp. The light of the big blaze + there fell on the water and the canoe skirted it without a splash, keeping + in the night. Hassim, landing for the second time, crept again close to + the fires. Each prau had, according to the customs of the Illanun rovers + when on a raiding expedition, a smaller war-boat and these being light and + manageable were hauled up on the sand not far from the big blaze; they sat + high on the shelving shore throwing heavy shadows. Hassim crept up toward + the largest of them and then standing on tiptoe could look at the camp + across the gunwales. The confused talking of the men was like the buzz of + insects in a forest. A child wailed on board one of the praus and a woman + hailed the shore shrilly. Hassim unsheathed his kris and held it in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + Very soon—he said—he saw the two white men walking amongst the + fires. They waved their arms and talked together, stopping from time to + time; they approached Daman; and the short man with the hair on his face + addressed him earnestly and at great length. Daman sat cross-legged upon a + little carpet with an open Koran on his knees and chanted the versets + swaying to and fro with his eyes shut. + </p> + <p> + The Illanun chiefs reclining wrapped in cloaks on the ground raised + themselves on their elbows to look at the whites. When the short white man + finished speaking he gazed down at them for a while, then stamped his + foot. He looked angry because no one understood him. Then suddenly he + looked very sad; he covered his face with his hands; the tall man put his + hand on the short man's shoulder and whispered into his ear. The dry wood + of the fires crackled, the Illanuns slept, cooked, talked, but with their + weapons at hand. An armed man or two came up to stare at the prisoners and + then returned to their fire. The two whites sank down in the sand in front + of Daman. Their clothes were soiled, there was sand in their hair. The + tall man had lost his hat; the glass in the eye of the short man glittered + very much; his back was muddy and one sleeve of his coat torn up to the + elbow. + </p> + <p> + All this Hassim saw and then retreated undetected to that part of the + shore where Immada waited for him, keeping the canoe afloat. The Illanuns, + trusting to the sea, kept very bad watch on their prisoners, and had he + been able to speak with them Hassim thought an escape could have been + effected. But they could not have understood his signs and still less his + words. He consulted with his sister. Immada murmured sadly; at their feet + the ripple broke with a mournful sound no louder than their voices. + </p> + <p> + Hassim's loyalty was unshaken, but now it led him on not in the bright + light of hopes but in the deepened shadow of doubt. He wanted to obtain + information for his friend who was so powerful and who perhaps would know + how to be constant. When followed by Immada he approached the camp again—this + time openly—their appearance did not excite much surprise. It was + well known to the Chiefs of the Illanuns that the Rajah for whom they were + to fight—if God so willed—was upon the shoals looking out for + the coming of the white man who had much wealth and a store of weapons and + who was his servant. Daman, who alone understood the exact relation, + welcomed them with impenetrable gravity. Hassim took his seat on the + carpet at his right hand. A consultation was being held half-aloud in + short and apparently careless sentences, with long intervals of silence + between. Immada, nestling close to her brother, leaned one arm on his + shoulder and listened with serious attention and with outward calm as + became a princess of Wajo accustomed to consort with warriors and + statesmen in moments of danger and in the hours of deliberation. Her heart + was beating rapidly, and facing her the silent white men stared at these + two known faces, as if across a gulf. Four Illanun chiefs sat in a row. + Their ample cloaks fell from their shoulders, and lay behind them on the + sand in which their four long lances were planted upright, each supporting + a small oblong shield of wood, carved on the edges and stained a dull + purple. Daman stretched out his arm and pointed at the prisoners. The + faces of the white men were very quiet. Daman looked at them mutely and + ardently, as if consumed by an unspeakable longing. + </p> + <p> + The Koran, in a silk cover, hung on his breast by a crimson cord. It + rested over his heart and, just below, the plain buffalo-horn handle of a + kris, stuck into the twist of his sarong, protruded ready to his hand. The + clouds thickening over the camp made the darkness press heavily on the + glow of scattered fires. “There is blood between me and the whites,” he + pronounced, violently. The Illanun chiefs remained impassive. There was + blood between them and all mankind. Hassim remarked dispassionately that + there was one white man with whom it would be wise to remain friendly; and + besides, was not Daman his friend already? Daman smiled with half-closed + eyes. He was that white man's friend, not his slave. The Illanuns playing + with their sword-handles grunted assent. Why, asked Daman, did these + strange whites travel so far from their country? The great white man whom + they all knew did not want them. No one wanted them. Evil would follow in + their footsteps. They were such men as are sent by rulers to examine the + aspects of far-off countries and talk of peace and make treaties. Such is + the beginning of great sorrows. The Illanuns were far from their country, + where no white man dared to come, and therefore they were free to seek + their enemies upon the open waters. They had found these two who had come + to see. He asked what they had come to see? Was there nothing to look at + in their own country? + </p> + <p> + He talked in an ironic and subdued tone. The scattered heaps of embers + glowed a deeper red; the big blaze of the chief's fire sank low and grew + dim before he ceased. Straight-limbed figures rose, sank, moved, whispered + on the beach. Here and there a spear-blade caught a red gleam above the + black shape of a head. + </p> + <p> + “The Illanuns seek booty on the sea,” cried Daman. “Their fathers and the + fathers of their fathers have done the same, being fearless like those who + embrace death closely.” + </p> + <p> + A low laugh was heard. “We strike and go,” said an exulting voice. “We + live and die with our weapons in our hands.” The Illanuns leaped to their + feet. They stamped on the sand, flourishing naked blades over the heads of + their prisoners. A tumult arose. + </p> + <p> + When it subsided Daman stood up in a cloak that wrapped him to his feet + and spoke again giving advice. + </p> + <p> + The white men sat on the sand and turned their eyes from face to face as + if trying to understand. It was agreed to send the prisoners into the + lagoon where their fate would be decided by the ruler of the land. The + Illanuns only wanted to plunder the ship. They did not care what became of + the men. “But Daman cares,” remarked Hassim to Lingard, when relating what + took place. “He cares, O Tuan!” + </p> + <p> + Hassim had learned also that the Settlement was in a state of unrest as if + on the eve of war. Belarab with his followers was encamped by his father's + tomb in the hollow beyond the cultivated fields. His stockade was shut up + and no one appeared on the verandahs of the houses within. You could tell + there were people inside only by the smoke of the cooking fires. Tengga's + followers meantime swaggered about the Settlement behaving tyrannically to + those who were peaceable. A great madness had descended upon the people, a + madness strong as the madness of love, the madness of battle, the desire + to spill blood. A strange fear also had made them wild. The big smoke seen + that morning above the forests of the coast was some agreed signal from + Tengga to Daman but what it meant Hassim had been unable to find out. He + feared for Jorgenson's safety. He said that while one of the war-boats was + being made ready to take the captives into the lagoon, he and his sister + left the camp quietly and got away in their canoe. The flares of the brig, + reflected in a faint loom upon the clouds, enabled them to make straight + for the vessel across the banks. Before they had gone half way these + flames went out and the darkness seemed denser than any he had known + before. But it was no greater than the darkness of his mind—he + added. He had looked upon the white men sitting unmoved and silent under + the edge of swords; he had looked at Daman, he had heard bitter words + spoken; he was looking now at his white friend—and the issue of + events he could not see. One can see men's faces but their fate, which is + written on their foreheads, one cannot see. He had no more to say, and + what he had spoken was true in every word. + </p> + <p> + IV + </p> + <p> + Lingard repeated it all to Mrs. Travers. Her courage, her intelligence, + the quickness of her apprehension, the colour of her eyes and the + intrepidity of her glance evoked in him an admiring enthusiasm. She stood + by his side! Every moment that fatal illusion clung closer to his soul—like + a garment of light—like an armour of fire. + </p> + <p> + He was unwilling to face the facts. All his life—till that day—had + been a wrestle with events in the daylight of this world, but now he could + not bring his mind to the consideration of his position. It was Mrs. + Travers who, after waiting awhile, forced on him the pain of thought by + wanting to know what bearing Hassim's news had upon the situation. + </p> + <p> + Lingard had not the slightest doubt Daman wanted him to know what had been + done with the prisoners. That is why Daman had welcomed Hassim, and let + him hear the decision and had allowed him to leave the camp on the + sandbank. There could be only one object in this; to let him, Lingard, + know that the prisoners had been put out of his reach as long as he + remained in his brig. Now this brig was his strength. To make him leave + his brig was like removing his hand from his sword. + </p> + <p> + “Do you understand what I mean, Mrs. Travers?” he asked. “They are afraid + of me because I know how to fight this brig. They fear the brig because + when I am on board her, the brig and I are one. An armed man—don't + you see? Without the brig I am disarmed, without me she can't strike. So + Daman thinks. He does not know everything but he is not far off the truth. + He says to himself that if I man the boats to go after these whites into + the lagoon then his Illanuns will get the yacht for sure—and perhaps + the brig as well. If I stop here with my brig he holds the two white men + and can talk as big as he pleases. Belarab believes in me no doubt, but + Daman trusts no man on earth. He simply does not know how to trust any + one, because he is always plotting himself. He came to help me and as soon + as he found I was not there he began to plot with Tengga. Now he has made + a move—a clever move; a cleverer move than he thinks. Why? I'll tell + you why. Because I, Tom Lingard, haven't a single white man aboard this + brig I can trust. Not one. I only just discovered my mate's got the notion + I am some kind of pirate. And all your yacht people think the same. It is + as though you had brought a curse on me in your yacht. Nobody believes me. + Good God! What have I come to! Even those two—look at them—I + say look at them! By all the stars they doubt me! Me! . . .” + </p> + <p> + He pointed at Hassim and Immada. The girl seemed frightened. Hassim looked + on calm and intelligent with inexhaustible patience. Lingard's voice fell + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “And by heavens they may be right. Who knows? You? Do you know? They have + waited for years. Look. They are waiting with heavy hearts. Do you think + that I don't care? Ought I to have kept it all in—told no one—no + one—not even you? Are they waiting for what will never come now?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers rose and moved quickly round the table. “Can we give anything + to this—this Daman or these other men? We could give them more than + they could think of asking. I—my husband. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk to me of your husband,” he said, roughly. “You don't know what + you are doing.” She confronted the sombre anger of his eyes—“But I + must,” she asserted with heat.—“Must,” he mused, noticing that she + was only half a head less tall than himself. “Must! Oh, yes. Of course, + you must. Must! Yes. But I don't want to hear. Give! What can you give? + You may have all the treasures of the world for all I know. No! You can't + give anything. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking of your difficulty when I spoke,” she interrupted. His + eyes wandered downward following the line of her shoulder.—“Of me—of + me!” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + All this was said almost in whispers. The sound of slow footsteps was + heard on deck above their heads. Lingard turned his face to the open + skylight. + </p> + <p> + “On deck there! Any wind?” + </p> + <p> + All was still for a moment. Somebody above answered in a leisurely tone: + </p> + <p> + “A steady little draught from the northward.” + </p> + <p> + Then after a pause added in a mutter: + </p> + <p> + “Pitch dark.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, dark enough,” murmured Lingard. He must do something. Now. At once. + The world was waiting. The world full of hopes and fear. What should he + do? Instead of answering that question he traced the ungleaming coils of + her twisted hair and became fascinated by a stray lock at her neck. What + should he do? No one to leave his brig to. The voice that had answered his + question was Carter's voice. “He is hanging about keeping his eye on me,” + he said to Mrs. Travers. She shook her head and tried to smile. The man + above coughed discreetly. “No,” said Lingard, “you must understand that + you have nothing to give.” + </p> + <p> + The man on deck who seemed to have lingered by the skylight was heard + saying quietly, “I am at hand if you want me, Mrs. Travers.” Hassim and + Immada looked up. “You see,” exclaimed Lingard. “What did I tell you? He's + keeping his eye on me! On board my own ship. Am I dreaming? Am I in a + fever? Tell him to come down,” he said after a pause. Mrs. Travers did so + and Lingard thought her voice very commanding and very sweet. “There's + nothing in the world I love so much as this brig,” he went on. “Nothing in + the world. If I lost her I would have no standing room on the earth for my + feet. You don't understand this. You can't.” + </p> + <p> + Carter came in and shut the cabin door carefully. He looked with serenity + at everyone in turn. + </p> + <p> + “All quiet?” asked Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Quiet enough if you like to call it so,” he answered. “But if you only + put your head outside the door you'll hear them all on the quarter-deck + snoring against each other, as if there were no wives at home and no + pirates at sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” said Lingard. “I found out that I can't trust my mate.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you?” drawled Carter. “I am not exactly surprised. I must say <i>he</i> + does not snore but I believe it is because he is too crazy to sleep. He + waylaid me on the poop just now and said something about evil + communications corrupting good manners. Seems to me I've heard that + before. Queer thing to say. He tried to make it out somehow that if he + wasn't corrupt it wasn't your fault. As if this was any concern of mine. + He's as mad as he's fat—or else he puts it on.” Carter laughed a + little and leaned his shoulders against a bulkhead. + </p> + <p> + Lingard gazed at the woman who expected so much from him and in the light + she seemed to shed he saw himself leading a column of armed boats to the + attack of the Settlement. He could burn the whole place to the ground and + drive every soul of them into the bush. He could! And there was a + surprise, a shock, a vague horror at the thought of the destructive power + of his will. He could give her ever so many lives. He had seen her + yesterday, and it seemed to him he had been all his life waiting for her + to make a sign. She was very still. He pondered a plan of attack. He saw + smoke and flame—and next moment he saw himself alone amongst + shapeless ruins with the whispers, with the sigh and moan of the Shallows + in his ears. He shuddered, and shaking his hand: + </p> + <p> + “No! I cannot give you all those lives!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Then, before Mrs. Travers could guess the meaning of this outburst, he + declared that as the two captives must be saved he would go alone into the + lagoon. He could not think of using force. “You understand why,” he said + to Mrs. Travers and she whispered a faint “Yes.” He would run the risk + alone. His hope was in Belarab being able to see where his true interest + lay. “If I can only get at him I would soon make him see,” he mused aloud. + “Haven't I kept his power up for these two years past? And he knows it, + too. He feels it.” Whether he would be allowed to reach Belarab was + another matter. Lingard lost himself in deep thought. “He would not dare,” + he burst out. Mrs. Travers listened with parted lips. Carter did not move + a muscle of his youthful and self-possessed face; only when Lingard, + turning suddenly, came up close to him and asked with a red flash of eyes + and in a lowered voice, “Could you fight this brig?” something like a + smile made a stir amongst the hairs of his little fair moustache. + </p> + <p> + “'Could I?” he said. “I could try, anyhow.” He paused, and added hardly + above his breath, “For the lady—of course.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard seemed staggered as though he had been hit in the chest. “I was + thinking of the brig,” he said, gently. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Travers would be on board,” retorted Carter. + </p> + <p> + “What! on board. Ah yes; on board. Where else?” stammered Lingard. + </p> + <p> + Carter looked at him in amazement. “Fight! You ask!” he said, slowly. “You + just try me.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall,” ejaculated Lingard. He left the cabin calling out “serang!” A + thin cracked voice was heard immediately answering, “Tuan!” and the door + slammed to. + </p> + <p> + “You trust him, Mrs. Travers?” asked Carter, rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “You do not—why?” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “I can't make him out. If he was another kind of man I would say he was + drunk,” said Carter. “Why is he here at all—he, and this brig of + his? Excuse my boldness—but have you promised him anything?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I promised!” exclaimed Mrs. Travers in a bitter tone which + silenced Carter for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “So much the better,” he said at last. “Let him show what he can do first + and . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Here! Take this,” said Lingard, who re-entered the cabin fumbling about + his neck. Carter mechanically extended his hand. + </p> + <p> + “What's this for?” he asked, looking at a small brass key attached to a + thin chain. + </p> + <p> + “Powder magazine. Trap door under the table. The man who has this key + commands the brig while I am away. The serang understands. You have her + very life in your hand there.” + </p> + <p> + Carter looked at the small key lying in his half-open palm. + </p> + <p> + “I was just telling Mrs. Travers I didn't trust you—not altogether. + . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I know all about it,” interrupted Lingard, contemptuously. “You carry a + blamed pistol in your pocket to blow my brains out—don't you? What's + that to me? I am thinking of the brig. I think I know your sort. You will + do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps I might,” mumbled Carter, modestly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be rash,” said Lingard, anxiously. “If you've got to fight use your + head as well as your hands. If there's a breeze fight under way. If they + should try to board in a calm, trust to the small arms to hold them off. + Keep your head and—” He looked intensely into Carter's eyes; his + lips worked without a sound as though he had been suddenly struck dumb. + “Don't think about me. What's that to you who I am? Think of the ship,” he + burst out. “Don't let her go!—Don't let her go!” The passion in his + voice impressed his hearers who for a time preserved a profound silence. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Carter at last. “I will stick to your brig as though she + were my own; but I would like to see clear through all this. Look here—you + are going off somewhere? Alone, you said?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Mind, then, that you don't come back with a crowd of those + brown friends of yours—or by the Heavens above us I won't let you + come within hail of your own ship. Am I to keep this key?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Lingard,” said Mrs. Travers suddenly. “Would it not be better to + tell him everything?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him everything?” repeated Lingard. “Everything! Yesterday it might + have been done. Only yesterday! Yesterday, did I say? Only six hours ago—only + six hours ago I had something to tell. You heard it. And now it's gone. + Tell him! There's nothing to tell any more.” He remained for a time with + bowed head, while before him Mrs. Travers, who had begun a gesture of + protest, dropped her arms suddenly. In a moment he looked up again. + </p> + <p> + “Keep the key,” he said, calmly, “and when the time comes step forward and + take charge. I am satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + “I would like to see clear through all this though,” muttered Carter + again. “And for how long are you leaving us, Captain?” Lingard made no + answer. Carter waited awhile. “Come, sir,” he urged. “I ought to have some + notion. What is it? Two, three days?” Lingard started. + </p> + <p> + “Days,” he repeated. “Ah, days. What is it you want to know? Two . . . + three—what did the old fellow say—perhaps for life.” This was + spoken so low that no one but Carter heard the last words.—“Do you + mean it?” he murmured. Lingard nodded.—“Wait as long as you can—then + go,” he said in the same hardly audible voice. “Go where?”—“Where + you like, nearest port, any port.”—“Very good. That's something + plain at any rate,” commented the young man with imperturbable good + humour. + </p> + <p> + “I go, O Hassim!” began Lingard and the Malay made a slow inclination of + the head which he did not raise again till Lingard had ceased speaking. He + betrayed neither surprise nor any other emotion while Lingard in a few + concise and sharp sentences made him acquainted with his purpose to bring + about singlehanded the release of the prisoners. When Lingard had ended + with the words: “And you must find a way to help me in the time of + trouble, O Rajah Hassim,” he looked up and said: + </p> + <p> + “Good. You never asked me for anything before.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled at his white friend. There was something subtle in the smile and + afterward an added firmness in the repose of the lips. Immada moved a step + forward. She looked at Lingard with terror in her black and dilated eyes. + She exclaimed in a voice whose vibration startled the hearts of all the + hearers with an indefinable sense of alarm, “He will perish, Hassim! He + will perish alone!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Hassim. “Thy fear is as vain to-night as it was at sunrise. He + shall not perish alone.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyelids dropped slowly. From her veiled eyes the tears fell, vanishing + in the silence. Lingard's forehead became furrowed by folds that seemed to + contain an infinity of sombre thoughts. “Remember, O Hassim, that when I + promised you to take you back to your country you promised me to be a + friend to all white men. A friend to all whites who are of my people, + forever.” + </p> + <p> + “My memory is good, O Tuan,” said Hassim; “I am not yet back in my + country, but is not everyone the ruler of his own heart? Promises made by + a man of noble birth live as long as the speaker endures.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye,” said Lingard to Mrs. Travers. “You will be safe here.” He + looked all around the cabin. “I leave you,” he began again and stopped + short. Mrs. Travers' hand, resting lightly on the edge of the table, began + to tremble. “It's for you . . . Yes. For you alone . . . and it seems it + can't be. . . .” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to him that he was saying good-bye to all the world, that he was + taking a last leave of his own self. Mrs. Travers did not say a word, but + Immada threw herself between them and cried: + </p> + <p> + “You are a cruel woman! You are driving him away from where his strength + is. You put madness into his heart, O! Blind—without pity—without + shame! . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Immada,” said Hassim's calm voice. Nobody moved. + </p> + <p> + “What did she say to me?” faltered Mrs. Travers and again repeated in a + voice that sounded hard, “What did she say?” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive her,” said Lingard. “Her fears are for me . . .”—“It's + about your going?” Mrs. Travers interrupted, swiftly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is—and you must forgive her.” He had turned away his eyes + with something that resembled embarrassment but suddenly he was assailed + by an irresistible longing to look again at that woman. At the moment of + parting he clung to her with his glance as a man holds with his hands a + priceless and disputed possession. The faint blush that overspread + gradually Mrs. Travers' features gave her face an air of extraordinary and + startling animation. + </p> + <p> + “The danger you run?” she asked, eagerly. He repelled the suggestion by a + slighting gesture of the hand.—“Nothing worth looking at twice. + Don't give it a thought,” he said. “I've been in tighter places.” He + clapped his hands and waited till he heard the cabin door open behind his + back. “Steward, my pistols.” The mulatto in slippers, aproned to the chin, + glided through the cabin with unseeing eyes as though for him no one there + had existed. . . .—“Is it my heart that aches so?” Mrs. Travers + asked herself, contemplating Lingard's motionless figure. “How long will + this sensation of dull pain last? Will it last forever. . . .”—“How + many changes of clothes shall I put up, sir?” asked the steward, while + Lingard took the pistols from him and eased the hammers after putting on + fresh caps.—“I will take nothing this time, steward.” He received in + turn from the mulatto's hands a red silk handkerchief, a pocket book, a + cigar-case. He knotted the handkerchief loosely round his throat; it was + evident he was going through the routine of every departure for the shore; + he even opened the cigar-case to see whether it had been filled.—“Hat, + sir,” murmured the half-caste. Lingard flung it on his head.—“Take + your orders from this lady, steward—till I come back. The cabin is + hers—do you hear?” He sighed ready to go and seemed unable to lift a + foot.—“I am coming with you,” declared Mrs. Travers suddenly in a + tone of unalterable decision. He did not look at her; he did not even look + up; he said nothing, till after Carter had cried: “You can't, Mrs. + Travers!”—when without budging he whispered to himself:—“Of + course.” Mrs. Travers had pulled already the hood of her cloak over her + head and her face within the dark cloth had turned an intense and + unearthly white, in which the violet of her eyes appeared unfathomably + mysterious. Carter started forward.—“You don't know this man,” he + almost shouted. + </p> + <p> + “I do know him,” she said, and before the reproachfully unbelieving + attitude of the other she added, speaking slowly and with emphasis: “There + is not, I verily believe, a single thought or act of his life that I don't + know.”—“It's true—it's true,” muttered Lingard to himself. + Carter threw up his arms with a groan. “Stand back,” said a voice that + sounded to him like a growl of thunder, and he felt a grip on his hand + which seemed to crush every bone. He jerked it away.—“Mrs. Travers! + stay,” he cried. They had vanished through the open door and the sound of + their footsteps had already died away. Carter turned about bewildered as + if looking for help.—“Who is he, steward? Who in the name of all the + mad devils is he?” he asked, wildly. He was confounded by the cold and + philosophical tone of the answer:—“'Tain't my place to trouble about + that, sir—nor yours I guess.”—“Isn't it!” shouted Carter. + “Why, he has carried the lady off.” The steward was looking critically at + the lamp and after a while screwed the light down.—“That's better,” + he mumbled.—“Good God! What is a fellow to do?” continued Carter, + looking at Hassim and Immada who were whispering together and gave him + only an absent glance. He rushed on deck and was struck blind instantly by + the night that seemed to have been lying in wait for him; he stumbled over + something soft, kicked something hard, flung himself on the rail. “Come + back,” he cried. “Come back. Captain! Mrs. Travers!—or let me come, + too.” + </p> + <p> + He listened. The breeze blew cool against his cheek. A black bandage + seemed to lie over his eyes. “Gone,” he groaned, utterly crushed. And + suddenly he heard Mrs. Travers' voice remote in the depths of the night.—“Defend + the brig,” it said, and these words, pronouncing themselves in the + immensity of a lightless universe, thrilled every fibre of his body by the + commanding sadness of their tone. “Defend, defend the brig.” . . . “I am + damned if I do,” shouted Carter in despair. “Unless you come back! . . . + Mrs. Travers!” + </p> + <p> + “. . . as though—I were—on board—myself,” went on the + rising cadence of the voice, more distant now, a marvel of faint and + imperious clearness. + </p> + <p> + Carter shouted no more; he tried to make out the boat for a time, and + when, giving it up, he leaped down from the rail, the heavy obscurity of + the brig's main deck was agitated like a sombre pool by his jump, swayed, + eddied, seemed to break up. Blotches of darkness recoiled, drifted away, + bare feet shuffled hastily, confused murmurs died out. “Lascars,” he + muttered, “The crew is all agog.” Afterward he listened for a moment to + the faintly tumultuous snores of the white men sleeping in rows, with + their heads under the break of the poop. Somewhere about his feet, the + yacht's black dog, invisible, and chained to a deck-ringbolt, whined, + rattled the thin links, pattered with his claws in his distress at the + unfamiliar surroundings, begging for the charity of human notice. Carter + stooped impulsively, and was met by a startling lick in the face.—“Hallo, + boy!” He thumped the thick curly sides, stroked the smooth head—“Good + boy, Rover. Down. Lie down, dog. You don't know what to make of it—do + you, boy?” The dog became still as death. “Well, neither do I,” muttered + Carter. But such natures are helped by a cheerful contempt for the + intricate and endless suggestions of thought. He told himself that he + would soon see what was to come of it, and dismissed all speculation. Had + he been a little older he would have felt that the situation was beyond + his grasp; but he was too young to see it whole and in a manner detached + from himself. All these inexplicable events filled him with deep concern—but + then on the other hand he had the key of the magazine and he could not + find it in his heart to dislike Lingard. He was positive about this at + last, and to know that much after the discomfort of an inward conflict + went a long way toward a solution. When he followed Shaw into the cabin he + could not repress a sense of enjoyment or hide a faint and malicious + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Gone away—did you say? And carried off the lady with him?” + discoursed Shaw very loud in the doorway. “Did he? Well, I am not + surprised. What can you expect from a man like that, who leaves his ship + in an open roadstead without—I won't say orders—but without as + much as a single word to his next in command? And at night at that! That + just shows you the kind of man. Is this the way to treat a chief mate? I + apprehend he was riled at the little al-ter-cation we had just before you + came on board. I told him a truth or two—but—never mind. + There's the law and that's enough for me. I am captain as long as he is + out of the ship, and if his address before very long is not in one of Her + Majesty's jails or other I au-tho-rize you to call me a Dutchman. You mark + my words.” + </p> + <p> + He walked in masterfully, sat down and surveyed the cabin in a leisurely + and autocratic manner; but suddenly his eyes became stony with amazement + and indignation; he pointed a fat and trembling forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “Niggers,” he said, huskily. “In the cuddy! In the cuddy!” He appeared + bereft of speech for a time. + </p> + <p> + Since he entered the cabin Hassim had been watching him in thoughtful and + expectant silence. “I can't have it,” he continued with genuine feeling in + his voice. “Damme! I've too much respect for myself.” He rose with heavy + deliberation; his eyes bulged out in a severe and dignified stare. “Out + you go!” he bellowed; suddenly, making a step forward.—“Great Scott! + What are you up to, mister?” asked in a tone of dispassionate surprise the + steward whose head appeared in the doorway. “These are the Captain's + friends.” “Show me a man's friends and . . .” began Shaw, dogmatically, + but abruptly passed into the tone of admonition. “You take your mug out of + the way, bottle-washer. They ain't friends of mine. I ain't a vagabond. I + know what's due to myself. Quit!” he hissed, fiercely. Hassim, with an + alert movement, grasped the handle of his kris. Shaw puffed out his cheeks + and frowned.—“Look out! He will stick you like a prize pig,” + murmured Carter without moving a muscle. Shaw looked round helplessly.—“And + you would enjoy the fun—wouldn't you?” he said with slow bitterness. + Carter's distant non-committal smile quite overwhelmed him by its horrid + frigidity. Extreme despondency replaced the proper feeling of racial pride + in the primitive soul of the mate. “My God! What luck! What have I done to + fall amongst that lot?” he groaned, sat down, and took his big grey head + in his hands. Carter drew aside to make room for Immada, who, in obedience + to a whisper from her brother, sought to leave the cabin. She passed out + after an instant of hesitation, during which she looked up at Carter once. + Her brother, motionless in a defensive attitude, protected her retreat. + She disappeared; Hassim's grip on his weapon relaxed; he looked in turn at + every object in the cabin as if to fix its position in his mind forever, + and following his sister, walked out with noiseless footfalls. + </p> + <p> + They entered the same darkness which had received, enveloped, and hidden + the troubled souls of Lingard and Edith, but to these two the light from + which they had felt themselves driven away was now like the light of + forbidden hopes; it had the awful and tranquil brightness that a light + burning on the shore has for an exhausted swimmer about to give himself up + to the fateful sea. They looked back; it had disappeared; Carter had shut + the cabin door behind them to have it out with Shaw. He wanted to arrive + at some kind of working compromise with the nominal commander, but the + mate was so demoralized by the novelty of the assaults made upon his + respectability that the young defender of the brig could get nothing from + him except lamentations mingled with mild blasphemies. The brig slept, and + along her quiet deck the voices raised in her cabin—Shaw's appeals + and reproaches directed vociferously to heaven, together with Carter's + inflexible drawl mingled into one deadened, modulated, and continuous + murmur. The lockouts in the waist, motionless and peering into obscurity, + one ear turned to the sea, were aware of that strange resonance like the + ghost of a quarrel that seemed to hover at their backs. Wasub, after + seeing Hassim and Immada into their canoe, prowled to and fro the whole + length of the vessel vigilantly. There was not a star in the sky and no + gleam on the water; there was no horizon, no outline, no shape for the eye + to rest upon, nothing for the hand to grasp. An obscurity that seemed + without limit in space and time had submerged the universe like a + destroying flood. + </p> + <p> + A lull of the breeze kept for a time the small boat in the neighbourhood + of the brig. The hoisted sail, invisible, fluttered faintly, mysteriously, + and the boat rising and falling bodily to the passage of each invisible + undulation of the waters seemed to repose upon a living breast. Lingard, + his hand on the tiller, sat up erect, expectant and silent. Mrs. Travers + had drawn her cloak close around her body. Their glances plunged + infinitely deep into a lightless void, and yet they were still so near the + brig that the piteous whine of the dog, mingled with the angry rattling of + the chain, reached their ears faintly, evoking obscure images of distress + and fury. A sharp bark ending in a plaintive howl that seemed raised by + the passage of phantoms invisible to men, rent the black stillness, as + though the instinct of the brute inspired by the soul of night had voiced + in a lamentable plaint the fear of the future, the anguish of lurking + death, the terror of shadows. Not far from the brig's boat Hassim and + Immada in their canoe, letting their paddles trail in the water, sat in a + silent and invincible torpor as if the fitful puffs of wind had carried to + their hearts the breath of a subtle poison that, very soon, would make + them die.—“Have you seen the white woman's eyes?” cried the girl. + She struck her palms together loudly and remained with her arms extended, + with her hands clasped. “O Hassim! Have you seen her eyes shining under + her eyebrows like rays of light darting under the arched boughs in a + forest? They pierced me. I shuddered at the sound of her voice! I saw her + walk behind him—and it seems to me that she does not live on earth—that + all this is witchcraft.” + </p> + <p> + She lamented in the night. Hassim kept silent. He had no illusions and in + any other man but Lingard he would have thought the proceeding no better + than suicidal folly. For him Travers and d'Alcacer were two powerful + Rajahs—probably relatives of the Ruler of the land of the English + whom he knew to be a woman; but why they should come and interfere with + the recovery of his own kingdom was an obscure problem. He was concerned + for Lingard's safety. That the risk was incurred mostly for his sake—so + that the prospects of the great enterprise should not be ruined by a + quarrel over the lives of these whites—did not strike him so much as + may be imagined. There was that in him which made such an action on + Lingard's part appear all but unavoidable. Was he not Rajah Hassim and was + not the other a man of strong heart, of strong arm, of proud courage, a + man great enough to protect highborn princes—a friend? Immada's + words called out a smile which, like the words, was lost in the darkness. + “Forget your weariness,” he said, gently, “lest, O Sister, we should + arrive too late.” The coming day would throw its light on some decisive + event. Hassim thought of his own men who guarded the Emma and he wished to + be where they could hear his voice. He regretted Jaffir was not there. + Hassim was saddened by the absence from his side of that man who once had + carried what he thought would be his last message to his friend. It had + not been the last. He had lived to cherish new hopes and to face new + troubles and, perchance, to frame another message yet, while death knocked + with the hands of armed enemies at the gate. The breeze steadied; the + succeeding swells swung the canoe smoothly up the unbroken ridges of water + travelling apace along the land. They progressed slowly; but Immada's + heart was more weary than her arms, and Hassim, dipping the blade of his + paddle without a splash, peered right and left, trying to make out the + shadowy forms of islets. A long way ahead of the canoe and holding the + same course, the brig's dinghy ran with broad lug extended, making for + that narrow and winding passage between the coast and the southern shoals, + which led to the mouth of the creek connecting the lagoon with the sea. + </p> + <p> + Thus on that starless night the Shallows were peopled by uneasy souls. The + thick veil of clouds stretched over them, cut them off from the rest of + the universe. At times Mrs. Travers had in the darkness the impression of + dizzy speed, and again it seemed to her that the boat was standing still, + that everything in the world was standing still and only her fancy roamed + free from all trammels. Lingard, perfectly motionless by her side, + steered, shaping his course by the feel of the wind. Presently he + perceived ahead a ghostly flicker of faint, livid light which the earth + seemed to throw up against the uniform blackness of the sky. The dinghy + was approaching the expanse of the Shallows. The confused clamour of + broken water deepened its note. + </p> + <p> + “How long are we going to sail like this?” asked Mrs. Travers, gently. She + did not recognize the voice that pronounced the word “Always” in answer to + her question. It had the impersonal ring of a voice without a master. Her + heart beat fast. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Lingard!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. What?” he said, nervously, as if startled out of a dream. + </p> + <p> + “I asked you how long we were going to sail like this,” she repeated, + distinctly. + </p> + <p> + “If the breeze holds we shall be in the lagoon soon after daybreak. That + will be the right time, too. I shall leave you on board the hulk with + Jorgenson.” + </p> + <p> + “And you? What will you do?” she asked. She had to wait for a while. + </p> + <p> + “I will do what I can,” she heard him say at last. There was another + pause. “All I can,” he added. + </p> + <p> + The breeze dropped, the sail fluttered. + </p> + <p> + “I have perfect confidence in you,” she said. “But are you certain of + success?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + The futility of her question came home to Mrs. Travers. In a few hours of + life she had been torn away from all her certitudes, flung into a world of + improbabilities. This thought instead of augmenting her distress seemed to + soothe her. What she experienced was not doubt and it was not fear. It was + something else. It might have been only a great fatigue. + </p> + <p> + She heard a dull detonation as if in the depth of the sea. It was hardly + more than a shock and a vibration. A roller had broken amongst the shoals; + the livid clearness Lingard had seen ahead flashed and flickered in + expanded white sheets much nearer to the boat now. And all this—the + wan burst of light, the faint shock as of something remote and immense + falling into ruins, was taking place outside the limits of her life which + remained encircled by an impenetrable darkness and by an impenetrable + silence. Puffs of wind blew about her head and expired; the sail + collapsed, shivered audibly, stood full and still in turn; and again the + sensation of vertiginous speed and of absolute immobility succeeding each + other with increasing swiftness merged at last into a bizarre state of + headlong motion and profound peace. The darkness enfolded her like the + enervating caress of a sombre universe. It was gentle and destructive. Its + languor seduced her soul into surrender. Nothing existed and even all her + memories vanished into space. She was content that nothing should exist. + </p> + <p> + Lingard, aware all the time of their contact in the narrow stern sheets of + the boat, was startled by the pressure of the woman's head drooping on his + shoulder. He stiffened himself still more as though he had tried on the + approach of a danger to conceal his life in the breathless rigidity of his + body. The boat soared and descended slowly; a region of foam and reefs + stretched across her course hissing like a gigantic cauldron; a strong + gust of wind drove her straight at it for a moment then passed on and + abandoned her to the regular balancing of the swell. The struggle of the + rocks forever overwhelmed and emerging, with the sea forever victorious + and repulsed, fascinated the man. He watched it as he would have watched + something going on within himself while Mrs. Travers slept sustained by + his arm, pressed to his side, abandoned to his support. The shoals + guarding the Shore of Refuge had given him his first glimpse of success—the + solid support he needed for his action. The Shallows were the shelter of + his dreams; their voice had the power to soothe and exalt his thoughts + with the promise of freedom for his hopes. Never had there been such a + generous friendship. . . . A mass of white foam whirling about a centre of + intense blackness spun silently past the side of the boat. . . . That + woman he held like a captive on his arm had also been given to him by the + Shallows. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly his eyes caught on a distant sandbank the red gleam of Daman's + camp fire instantly eclipsed like the wink of a signalling lantern along + the level of the waters. It brought to his mind the existence of the two + men—those other captives. If the war canoe transporting them into + the lagoon had left the sands shortly after Hassim's retreat from Daman's + camp, Travers and d'Alcacer were by this time far away up the creek. Every + thought of action had become odious to Lingard since all he could do in + the world now was to hasten the moment of his separation from that woman + to whom he had confessed the whole secret of his life. + </p> + <p> + And she slept. She could sleep! He looked down at her as he would have + looked at the slumbering ignorance of a child, but the life within him had + the fierce beat of supreme moments. Near by, the eddies sighed along the + reefs, the water soughed amongst the stones, clung round the rocks with + tragic murmurs that resembled promises, good-byes, or prayers. From the + unfathomable distances of the night came the booming of the swell assaulting + the seaward face of the Shallows. He felt the woman's nearness with such + intensity that he heard nothing. . . . Then suddenly he thought of death. + </p> + <p> + “Wake up!” he shouted in her ear, swinging round in his seat. Mrs. Travers + gasped; a splash of water flicked her over the eyes and she felt the + separate drops run down her cheeks, she tasted them on her lips, tepid and + bitter like tears. A swishing undulation tossed the boat on high followed + by another and still another; and then the boat with the breeze abeam + glided through still water, laying over at a steady angle. + </p> + <p> + “Clear of the reef now,” remarked Lingard in a tone of relief. + </p> + <p> + “Were we in any danger?” asked Mrs. Travers in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the breeze dropped and we drifted in very close to the rocks,” he + answered. “I had to rouse you. It wouldn't have done for you to wake up + suddenly struggling in the water.” + </p> + <p> + So she had slept! It seemed to her incredible that she should have closed + her eyes in this small boat, with the knowledge of their desperate errand, + on so disturbed a sea. The man by her side leaned forward, extended his + arm, and the boat going off before the wind went on faster on an even + keel. A motionless black bank resting on the sea stretched infinitely + right in their way in ominous stillness. She called Lingard's attention to + it. “Look at this awful cloud.” + </p> + <p> + “This cloud is the coast and in a moment we shall be entering the creek,” + he said, quietly. Mrs. Travers stared at it. Was it land—land! It + seemed to her even less palpable than a cloud, a mere sinister immobility + above the unrest of the sea, nursing in its depth the unrest of men who, + to her mind, were no more real than fantastic shadows. + </p> + <p> + V + </p> + <p> + What struck Mrs. Travers most, directly she set eyes on him, was the + other-world aspect of Jorgenson. He had been buried out of sight so long + that his tall, gaunt body, his unhurried, mechanical movements, his set + face and his eyes with an empty gaze suggested an invincible indifference + to all the possible surprises of the earth. That appearance of a + resuscitated man who seemed to be commanded by a conjuring spell strolled + along the decks of what was even to Mrs. Travers' eyes the mere corpse of + a ship and turned on her a pair of deep-sunk, expressionless eyes with an + almost unearthly detachment. Mrs. Travers had never been looked at before + with that strange and pregnant abstraction. Yet she didn't dislike + Jorgenson. In the early morning light, white from head to foot in a + perfectly clean suit of clothes which seemed hardly to contain any limbs, + freshly shaven (Jorgenson's sunken cheeks with their withered colouring + always had a sort of gloss as though he had the habit of shaving every two + hours or so), he looked as immaculate as though he had been indeed a pure + spirit superior to the soiling contacts of the material earth. He was + disturbing but he was not repulsive. He gave no sign of greeting. + </p> + <p> + Lingard addressed him at once. + </p> + <p> + “You have had a regular staircase built up the side of the hulk, + Jorgenson,” he said. “It was very convenient for us to come aboard now, + but in case of an attack don't you think . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I did think.” There was nothing so dispassionate in the world as the + voice of Captain H. C. Jorgenson, ex Barque Wild Rose, since he had + recrossed the Waters of Oblivion to step back into the life of men. “I did + think, but since I don't want to make trouble. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you don't want to make trouble,” interrupted Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “No. Don't believe in it. Do you, King Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “I may have to make trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “So you came up here in this small dinghy of yours like this to start + making trouble, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with you? Don't you know me yet, Jorgenson?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I knew you. How could I tell that a man like you would come + along for a fight bringing a woman with him?” + </p> + <p> + “This lady is Mrs. Travers,” said Lingard. “The wife of one of the + luckless gentlemen Daman got hold of last evening. . . . This is + Jorgenson, the friend of whom I have been telling you, Mrs. Travers.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers smiled faintly. Her eyes roamed far and near and the + strangeness of her surroundings, the overpowering curiosity, the conflict + of interest and doubt gave her the aspect of one still new to life, + presenting an innocent and naive attitude before the surprises of + experience. She looked very guileless and youthful between those two men. + Lingard gazed at her with that unconscious tenderness mingled with wonder, + which some men manifest toward girlhood. There was nothing of a conqueror + of kingdoms in his bearing. Jorgenson preserved his amazing abstraction + which seemed neither to hear nor see anything. But, evidently, he kept a + mysterious grip on events in the world of living men because he asked very + naturally: + </p> + <p> + “How did she get away?” + </p> + <p> + “The lady wasn't on the sandbank,” explained Lingard, curtly. + </p> + <p> + “What sandbank?” muttered Jorgenson, perfunctorily. . . . “Is the yacht + looted, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the kind,” said Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, many dead?” inquired Jorgenson. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you there was nothing of the kind,” said Lingard, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “What? No fight!” inquired Jorgenson again without the slightest sign of + animation. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “And you a fighting man.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, Jorgenson. Things turned out so that before the time came + for a fight it was already too late.” He turned to Mrs. Travers still + looking about with anxious eyes and a faint smile on her lips. “While I + was talking to you that evening from the boat it was already too late. No. + There was never any time for it. I have told you all about myself, Mrs. + Travers, and you know that I speak the truth when I say too late. If you + had only been alone in that yacht going about the seas!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she struck in, “but I was not alone.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard dropped his chin on his breast. Already a foretaste of noonday + heat staled the sparkling freshness of the morning. The smile had vanished + from Edith Travers' lips and her eyes rested on Lingard's bowed head with + an expression no longer curious but which might have appeared enigmatic to + Jorgenson if he had looked at her. But Jorgenson looked at nothing. He + asked from the remoteness of his dead past, “What have you left outside, + Tom? What is there now?” + </p> + <p> + “There's the yacht on the shoals, my brig at anchor, and about a hundred + of the worst kind of Illanun vagabonds under three chiefs and with two + war-praus moored to the edge of the bank. Maybe Daman is with them, too, + out there.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Jorgenson, positively. + </p> + <p> + “He has come in,” cried Lingard. “He brought his prisoners in himself + then.” + </p> + <p> + “Landed by torchlight,” uttered precisely the shade of Captain Jorgenson, + late of the Barque Wild Rose. He swung his arm pointing across the lagoon + and Mrs. Travers turned about in that direction. + </p> + <p> + All the scene was but a great light and a great solitude. Her gaze + travelled over the lustrous, dark sheet of empty water to a shore bordered + by a white beach empty, too, and showing no sign of human life. The human + habitations were lost in the shade of the fruit trees, masked by the + cultivated patches of Indian corn and the banana plantations. Near the + shore the rigid lines of two stockaded forts could be distinguished + flanking the beach, and between them with a great open space before it, + the brown roof slope of an enormous long building that seemed suspended in + the air had a great square flag fluttering above it. Something like a + small white flame in the sky was the carved white coral finial on the + gable of the mosque which had caught full the rays of the sun. A multitude + of gay streamers, white and red, flew over the half-concealed roofs, over + the brilliant fields and amongst the sombre palm groves. But it might have + been a deserted settlement decorated and abandoned by its departed + population. Lingard pointed to the stockade on the right. + </p> + <p> + “That's where your husband is,” he said to Mrs. Travers. + </p> + <p> + “Who is the other?” uttered Jorgenson's voice at their backs. He also was + turned that way with his strange sightless gaze fixed beyond them into the + void. + </p> + <p> + “A Spanish gentleman I believe you said, Mrs Travers,” observed Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “It is extremely difficult to believe that there is anybody there,” + murmured Mrs. Travers. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see them both, Jorgenson?” asked Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Made out nobody. Too far. Too dark.” + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact Jorgenson had seen nothing, about an hour before + daybreak, but the distant glare of torches while the loud shouts of an + excited multitude had reached him across the water only like a faint and + tempestuous murmur. Presently the lights went away processionally through + the groves of trees into the armed stockades. The distant glare vanished + in the fading darkness and the murmurs of the invisible crowd ceased + suddenly as if carried off by the retreating shadow of the night. Daylight + followed swiftly, disclosing to the sleepless Jorgenson the solitude of + the shore and the ghostly outlines of the familiar forms of grouped trees + and scattered human habitations. He had watched the varied colours come + out in the dawn, the wide cultivated Settlement of many shades of green, + framed far away by the fine black lines of the forest-edge that was its + limit and its protection. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers stood against the rail as motionless as a statue. Her face + had lost all its mobility and her cheeks were dead white as if all the + blood in her body had flowed back into her heart and had remained there. + Her very lips had lost their colour. Lingard caught hold of her arm + roughly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't, Mrs. Travers. Why are you terrifying yourself like this? If you + don't believe what I say listen to me asking Jorgenson. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ask me,” mumbled Jorgenson in his white moustache. + </p> + <p> + “Speak straight, Jorgenson. What do you think? Are the gentlemen alive?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Jorgenson in a sort of disappointed tone as though he + had expected a much more difficult question. + </p> + <p> + “Is their life in immediate danger?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” said Jorgenson. + </p> + <p> + Lingard turned away from the oracle. “You have heard him, Mrs. Travers. + You may believe every word he says. There isn't a thought or a purpose in + that Settlement,” he continued, pointing at the dumb solitude of the + lagoon, “that this man doesn't know as if they were his own.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. Ask me,” muttered Jorgenson, mechanically. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers said nothing but made a slight movement and her whole rigid + figure swayed dangerously. Lingard put his arm firmly round her waist and + she did not seem aware of it till after she had turned her head and found + Lingard's face very near her own. But his eyes full of concern looked so + close into hers that she was obliged to shut them like a woman about to + faint. + </p> + <p> + The effect this produced upon Lingard was such that she felt the + tightening of his arm and as she opened her eyes again some of the colour + returned to her face. She met the deepened expression of his solicitude + with a look so steady, with a gaze that in spite of herself was so + profoundly vivid that its clearness seemed to Lingard to throw all his + past life into shade.—“I don't feel faint. It isn't that at all,” + she declared in a perfectly calm voice. It seemed to Lingard as cold as + ice. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” he agreed with a resigned smile. “But you just catch hold of + that rail, please, before I let you go.” She, too, forced a smile on her + lips. + </p> + <p> + “What incredulity,” she remarked, and for a time made not the slightest + movement. At last, as if making a concession, she rested the tips of her + fingers on the rail. Lingard gradually removed his arm. “And pray don't + look upon me as a conventional 'weak woman' person, the delicate lady of + your own conception,” she said, facing Lingard, with her arm extended to + the rail. “Make that effort please against your own conception of what a + woman like me should be. I am perhaps as strong as you are, Captain + Lingard. I mean it literally. In my body.”—“Don't you think I have + seen that long ago?” she heard his deep voice protesting.—“And as to + my courage,” Mrs. Travers continued, her expression charmingly undecided + between frowns and smiles; “didn't I tell you only a few hours ago, only + last evening, that I was not capable of thinking myself into a fright; you + remember, when you were begging me to try something of the kind. Don't + imagine that I would have been ashamed to try. But I couldn't have done + it. No. Not even for the sake of somebody else's kingdom. Do you + understand me?” + </p> + <p> + “God knows,” said the attentive Lingard after a time, with an unexpected + sigh. “You people seem to be made of another stuff.” + </p> + <p> + “What has put that absurd notion into your head?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean better or worse. And I wouldn't say it isn't good stuff + either. What I meant to say is that it's different. One feels it. And here + we are.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, here we are,” repeated Mrs. Travers. “And as to this moment of + emotion, what provoked it is not a concern for anybody or anything outside + myself. I felt no terror. I cannot even fix my fears upon any distinct + image. You think I am shamelessly heartless in telling you this.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard made no sign. It didn't occur to him to make a sign. He simply + hung on Mrs. Travers' words as it were only for the sake of the sound.—“I + am simply frank with you,” she continued. “What do I know of savagery, + violence, murder? I have never seen a dead body in my life. The light, the + silence, the mysterious emptiness of this place have suddenly affected my + imagination, I suppose. What is the meaning of this wonderful peace in + which we stand—you and I alone?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard shook his head. He saw the narrow gleam of the woman's teeth + between the parted lips of her smile, as if all the ardour of her + conviction had been dissolved at the end of her speech into wistful + recognition of their partnership before things outside their knowledge. + And he was warmed by something a little helpless in that smile. Within + three feet of them the shade of Jorgenson, very gaunt and neat, stared + into space. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You are strong,” said Lingard. “But a whole long night sitting in a + small boat! I wonder you are not too stiff to stand.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not stiff in the least,” she interrupted, still smiling. “I am + really a very strong woman,” she added, earnestly. “Whatever happens you + may reckon on that fact.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard gave her an admiring glance. But the shade of Jorgenson, perhaps + catching in its remoteness the sound of the word woman, was suddenly moved + to begin scolding with all the liberty of a ghost, in a flow of + passionless indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Woman! That's what I say. That's just about the last touch—that + you, Tom Lingard, red-eyed Tom, King Tom, and all those fine names, that + you should leave your weapons twenty miles behind you, your men, your + guns, your brig that is your strength, and come along here with your mouth + full of fight, bare-handed and with a woman in tow.—Well—well!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't forget, Jorgenson, that the lady hears you,” remonstrated Lingard + in a vexed tone. . . . “He doesn't mean to be rude,” he remarked to Mrs. + Travers quite loud, as if indeed Jorgenson were but an immaterial and + feelingless illusion. “He has forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “The woman is not in the least offended. I ask for nothing better than to + be taken on that footing.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgot nothing!” mumbled Jorgenson with a sort of ghostly assertiveness + and as it were for his own satisfaction. “What's the world coming to?” + </p> + <p> + “It was I who insisted on coming with Captain Lingard,” said Mrs. Travers, + treating Jorgenson to a fascinating sweetness of tone. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I say! What is the world coming to? Hasn't King Tom a mind of + his own? What has come over him? He's mad! Leaving his brig with a hundred + and twenty born and bred pirates of the worst kind in two praus on the + other side of a sandbank. Did you insist on that, too? Has he put himself + in the hands of a strange woman?” + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson seemed to be asking those questions of himself. Mrs. Travers + observed the empty stare, the self-communing voice, his unearthly lack of + animation. Somehow it made it very easy to speak the whole truth to him. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “it is I who am altogether in his hands.” + </p> + <p> + Nobody would have guessed that Jorgenson had heard a single word of that + emphatic declaration if he had not addressed himself to Lingard with the + question neither more nor less abstracted than all his other speeches. + </p> + <p> + “Why then did you bring her along?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand. It was only right and proper. One of the gentlemen + is the lady's husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” muttered Jorgenson. “Who's the other?” + </p> + <p> + “You have been told. A friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mr. d'Alcacer,” said Mrs. Travers. “What bad luck for him to have + accepted our invitation. But he is really a mere acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “I hardly noticed him,” observed Lingard, gloomily. “He was talking to you + over the back of your chair when I came aboard the yacht as if he had been + a very good friend.” + </p> + <p> + “We always understood each other very well,” said Mrs. Travers, picking up + from the rail the long glass that was lying there. “I always liked him, + the frankness of his mind, and his great loyalty.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he do?” asked Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “He loved,” said Mrs. Travers, lightly. “But that's an old story.” She + raised the glass to her eyes, one arm extended fully to sustain the long + tube, and Lingard forgot d'Alcacer in admiring the firmness of her pose + and the absolute steadiness of the heavy glass. She was as firm as a rock + after all those emotions and all that fatigue. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers directed the glass instinctively toward the entrance of the + lagoon. The smooth water there shone like a piece of silver in the dark + frame of the forest. A black speck swept across the field of her vision. + It was some time before she could find it again and then she saw, + apparently so near as to be within reach of the voice, a small canoe with + two people in it. She saw the wet paddles rising and dipping with a flash + in the sunlight. She made out plainly the face of Immada, who seemed to be + looking straight into the big end of the telescope. The chief and his + sister, after resting under the bank for a couple of hours in the middle + of the night, had entered the lagoon and were making straight for the + hulk. They were already near enough to be perfectly distinguishable to the + naked eye if there had been anybody on board to glance that way. But + nobody was even thinking of them. They might not have existed except + perhaps in the memory of old Jorgenson. But that was mostly busy with all + the mysterious secrets of his late tomb. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers lowered the glass suddenly. Lingard came out from a sort of + trance and said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. d'Alcacer. Loved! Why shouldn't he?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers looked frankly into Lingard's gloomy eyes. “It isn't that + alone, of course,” she said. “First of all he knew how to love and then. . + . . You don't know how artificial and barren certain kinds of life can be. + But Mr. d'Alcacer's life was not that. His devotion was worth having.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to know a lot about him,'” said Lingard, enviously. “Why do you + smile?” She continued to smile at him for a little while. The long brass + tube over her shoulder shone like gold against the pale fairness of her + bare head.—“At a thought,” she answered, preserving the low tone of + the conversation into which they had fallen as if their words could have + disturbed the self-absorption of Captain H. C. Jorgenson. “At the thought + that for all my long acquaintance with Mr. d'Alcacer I don't know half as + much about him as I know about you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that's impossible,” contradicted Lingard. “Spaniard or no Spaniard, + he is one of your kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Tarred with the same brush,” murmured Mrs. Travers, with only a + half-amused irony. But Lingard continued: + </p> + <p> + “He was trying to make it up between me and your husband, wasn't he? I was + too angry to pay much attention, but I liked him well enough. What pleased + me most was the way in which he gave it up. That was done like a + gentleman. Do you understand what I mean, Mrs. Travers?” + </p> + <p> + “I quite understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you would,” he commented, simply. “But just then I was too angry to + talk to anybody. And so I cleared out on board my own ship and stayed + there, not knowing what to do and wishing you all at the bottom of the + sea. Don't mistake me, Mrs. Travers; it's you, the people aft, that I + wished at the bottom of the sea. I had nothing against the poor devils on + board, They would have trusted me quick enough. So I fumed there till—till. + . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Till nine o'clock or a little after,” suggested Mrs. Travers, + impenetrably. + </p> + <p> + “No. Till I remembered you,” said Lingard with the utmost innocence. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say that you forgot my existence so completely till then? + You had spoken to me on board the yacht, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I? I thought I did. What did I say?” + </p> + <p> + “You told me not to touch a dusky princess,” answered Mrs. Travers with a + short laugh. Then with a visible change of mood as if she had suddenly out + of a light heart been recalled to the sense of the true situation: “But + indeed I meant no harm to this figure of your dream. And, look over there. + She is pursuing you.” Lingard glanced toward the north shore and + suppressed an exclamation of remorse. For the second time he discovered + that he had forgotten the existence of Hassim and Immada. The canoe was + now near enough for its occupants to distinguish plainly the heads of + three people above the low bulwark of the Emma. Immada let her paddle + trail suddenly in the water, with the exclamation, “I see the white woman + there.” Her brother looked over his shoulder and the canoe floated, + arrested as if by the sudden power of a spell.—“They are no dream to + me,” muttered Lingard, sturdily. Mrs. Travers turned abruptly away to look + at the further shore. It was still and empty to the naked eye and seemed + to quiver in the sunshine like an immense painted curtain lowered upon the + unknown. + </p> + <p> + “Here's Rajah Hassim coming, Jorgenson. I had an idea he would perhaps + stay outside.” Mrs. Travers heard Lingard's voice at her back and the + answering grunt of Jorgenson. She raised deliberately the long glass to + her eye, pointing it at the shore. + </p> + <p> + She distinguished plainly now the colours in the flutter of the streamers + above the brown roofs of the large Settlement, the stir of palm groves, + the black shadows inland and the dazzling white beach of coral sand all + ablaze in its formidable mystery. She swept the whole range of the view + and was going to lower the glass when from behind the massive angle of the + stockade there stepped out into the brilliant immobility of the landscape + a man in a long white gown and with an enormous black turban surmounting a + dark face. Slow and grave he paced the beach ominously in the sunshine, an + enigmatical figure in an Oriental tale with something weird and menacing + in its sudden emergence and lonely progress. + </p> + <p> + With an involuntary gasp Mrs. Travers lowered the glass. All at once + behind her back she heard a low musical voice beginning to pour out + incomprehensible words in a tone of passionate pleading. Hassim and Immada + had come on board and had approached Lingard. Yes! It was intolerable to + feel that this flow of soft speech which had no meaning for her could make + its way straight into that man's heart. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART5" id="link2H_PART5"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART V. THE POINT OF HONOUR AND THE POINT OF PASSION + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + “May I come in?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said a voice within. “The door is open.” It had a wooden latch. Mr. + Travers lifted it while the voice of his wife continued as he entered. + “Did you imagine I had locked myself in? Did you ever know me lock myself + in?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers closed the door behind him. “No, it has never come to that,” + he said in a tone that was not conciliatory. In that place which was a + room in a wooden hut and had a square opening without glass but with a + half-closed shutter he could not distinguish his wife very well at once. + She was sitting in an armchair and what he could see best was her fair + hair all loose over the back of the chair. There was a moment of silence. + The measured footsteps of two men pacing athwart the quarter-deck of the + dead ship Emma commanded by the derelict shade of Jorgenson could be heard + outside. + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson, on taking up his dead command, had a house of thin boards built + on the after deck for his own accommodation and that of Lingard during his + flying visits to the Shore of Refuge. A narrow passage divided it in two + and Lingard's side was furnished with a camp bedstead, a rough desk, and a + rattan armchair. On one of his visits Lingard had brought with him a black + seaman's chest and left it there. Apart from these objects and a small + looking-glass worth about half a crown and nailed to the wall there was + nothing else in there whatever. What was on Jorgenson's side of the + deckhouse no one had seen, but from external evidence one could infer the + existence of a set of razors. + </p> + <p> + The erection of that primitive deckhouse was a matter of propriety rather + than of necessity. It was proper that the white men should have a place to + themselves on board, but Lingard was perfectly accurate when he told Mrs. + Travers that he had never slept there once. His practice was to sleep on + deck. As to Jorgenson, if he did sleep at all he slept very little. It + might have been said that he haunted rather than commanded the Emma. His + white form flitted here and there in the night or stood for hours, silent, + contemplating the sombre glimmer of the lagoon. Mr. Travers' eyes + accustomed gradually to the dusk of the place could now distinguish more + of his wife's person than the great mass of honey-coloured hair. He saw + her face, the dark eyebrows and her eyes that seemed profoundly black in + the half light. He said: + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't have done so here. There is neither lock nor bolt.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't there? I didn't notice. I would know how to protect myself without + locks and bolts.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear it,” said Mr. Travers in a sullen tone and fell silent + again surveying the woman in the chair. “Indulging your taste for fancy + dress,” he went on with faint irony. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers clasped her hands behind her head. The wide sleeves slipping + back bared her arms to her shoulders. She was wearing a Malay thin cotton + jacket, cut low in the neck without a collar and fastened with wrought + silver clasps from the throat downward. She had replaced her yachting + skirt by a blue check sarong embroidered with threads of gold. Mr. + Travers' eyes travelling slowly down attached themselves to the gleaming + instep of an agitated foot from which hung a light leather sandal. + </p> + <p> + “I had no clothes with me but what I stood in,” said Mrs. Travers. “I + found my yachting costume too heavy. It was intolerable. I was soaked in + dew when I arrived. So when these things were produced for my inspection. + . . .” + </p> + <p> + “By enchantment,” muttered Mr. Travers in a tone too heavy for sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + “No. Out of that chest. There are very fine stuffs there.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” said Mr. Travers. “The man wouldn't be above plundering the + natives. . . .” He sat down heavily on the chest. “A most appropriate + costume for this farce,” he continued. “But do you mean to wear it in open + daylight about the decks?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I do,” said Mrs. Travers. “D'Alcacer has seen me already and he + didn't seem shocked.” + </p> + <p> + “You should,” said Mr. Travers, “try to get yourself presented with some + bangles for your ankles so that you may jingle as you walk.” + </p> + <p> + “Bangles are not necessities,” said Mrs. Travers in a weary tone and with + the fixed upward look of a person unwilling to relinquish her dream. Mr. + Travers dropped the subject to ask: + </p> + <p> + “And how long is this farce going to last?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers unclasped her hands, lowered her glance, and changed her + whole pose in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by farce? What farce?” + </p> + <p> + “The one which is being played at my expense.” + </p> + <p> + “You believe that?” + </p> + <p> + “Not only believe. I feel deeply that it is so. At my expense. It's a most + sinister thing,” Mr. Travers pursued, still with downcast eyes and in an + unforgiving tone. “I must tell you that when I saw you in that courtyard + in a crowd of natives and leaning on that man's arm, it gave me quite a + shock.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I, too, look sinister?” said Mrs. Travers, turning her head slightly + toward her husband. “And yet I assure you that I was glad, profoundly + glad, to see you safe from danger for a time at least. To gain time is + everything. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I ask myself,” Mr. Travers meditated aloud, “was I ever in danger? Am I + safe now? I don't know. I can't tell. No! All this seems an abominable + farce.” + </p> + <p> + There was that in his tone which made his wife continue to look at him + with awakened interest. It was obvious that he suffered from a distress + which was not the effect of fear; and Mrs. Travers' face expressed real + concern till he added in a freezing manner: “The question, however, is as + to your discretion.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned back again in the chair and let her hands rest quietly in her + lap. “Would you have preferred me to remain outside, in the yacht, in the + near neighbourhood of these wild men who captured you? Or do you think + that they, too, were got up to carry on a farce?” + </p> + <p> + “Most decidedly.” Mr. Travers raised his head, though of course not his + voice. “You ought to have remained in the yacht amongst white men, your + servants, the sailing-master, the crew whose duty it was to. . . . Who + would have been ready to die for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder why they should have—and why I should have asked them for + that sacrifice. However, I have no doubt they would have died. Or would + you have preferred me to take up my quarters on board that man's brig? We + were all fairly safe there. The real reason why I insisted on coming in + here was to be nearer to you—to see for myself what could be or was + being done. . . . But really if you want me to explain my motives then I + may just as well say nothing. I couldn't remain outside for days without + news, in a state of horrible doubt. We couldn't even tell whether you and + d'Alcacer were still alive till we arrived here. You might have been + actually murdered on the sandbank, after Rajah Hassim and that girl had + gone away; or killed while going up the river. And I wanted to know at + once, as soon as possible. It was a matter of impulse. I went off in what + I stood in without delaying a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Travers. “And without even thinking of having a few things + put up for me in a bag. No doubt you were in a state of excitement. Unless + you took such a tragic view that it seemed to you hardly worth while to + bother about my clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “It was absolutely the impulse of the moment. I could have done nothing + else. Won't you give me credit for it?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers raised his eyes again to his wife's face. He saw it calm, her + attitude reposeful. Till then his tone had been resentful, dull, without + sarcasm. But now he became slightly pompous. + </p> + <p> + “No. As a matter of fact, as a matter of experience, I can't credit you + with the possession of feelings appropriate to your origin, social + position, and the ideas of the class to which you belong. It was the + heaviest disappointment of my life. I had made up my mind not to mention + it as long as I lived. This, however, seems an occasion which you have + provoked yourself. It isn't at all a solemn occasion. I don't look upon it + as solemn at all. It's very disagreeable and humiliating. But it has + presented itself. You have never taken a serious interest in the + activities of my life which of course are its distinction and its value. + And why you should be carried away suddenly by a feeling toward the mere + man I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore you don't approve,” Mrs. Travers commented in an even tone. + “But I assure you, you may safely. My feeling was of the most conventional + nature, exactly as if the whole world were looking on. After all, we are + husband and wife. It's eminently fitting that I should be concerned about + your fate. Even the man you distrust and dislike so much (the warmest + feeling, let me tell you, that I ever saw you display) even that man found + my conduct perfectly proper. His own word. Proper. So eminently proper + that it altogether silenced his objections.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers shifted uneasily on his seat. + </p> + <p> + “It's my belief, Edith, that if you had been a man you would have led a + most irregular life. You would have been a frank adventurer. I mean + morally. It has been a great grief to me. You have a scorn in you for the + serious side of life, for the ideas and the ambitions of the social sphere + to which you belong.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped because his wife had clasped again her hands behind her head + and was no longer looking at him. + </p> + <p> + “It's perfectly obvious,” he began again. “We have been living amongst + most distinguished men and women and your attitude to them has been always + so—so negative! You would never recognize the importance of + achievements, of acquired positions. I don't remember you ever admiring + frankly any political or social success. I ask myself what after all you + could possibly have expected from life.” + </p> + <p> + “I could never have expected to hear such a speech from you. As to what I + did expect! . . . I must have been very stupid.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you are anything but that,” declared Mr. Travers, conscientiously. + “It isn't stupidity.” He hesitated for a moment. “It's a kind of + wilfulness, I think. I preferred not to think about this grievous + difference in our points of view, which, you will admit, I could not have + possibly foreseen before we. . . .” + </p> + <p> + A sort of solemn embarrassment had come over Mr. Travers. Mrs. Travers, + leaning her chin on the palm of her hand, stared at the bare matchboard + side of the hut. + </p> + <p> + “Do you charge me with profound girlish duplicity?” she asked, very + softly. + </p> + <p> + The inside of the deckhouse was full of stagnant heat perfumed by a slight + scent which seemed to emanate from the loose mass of Mrs. Travers' hair. + Mr. Travers evaded the direct question which struck him as lacking + fineness even to the point of impropriety. + </p> + <p> + “I must suppose that I was not in the calm possession of my insight and + judgment in those days,” he said. “I—I was not in a critical state + of mind at the time,” he admitted further; but even after going so far he + did not look up at his wife and therefore missed something like the ghost + of a smile on Mrs. Travers' lips. That smile was tinged with scepticism + which was too deep-seated for anything but the faintest expression. + Therefore she said nothing, and Mr. Travers went on as if thinking aloud: + </p> + <p> + “Your conduct was, of course, above reproach; but you made for yourself a + detestable reputation of mental superiority, expressed ironically. You + inspired mistrust in the best people. You were never popular.” + </p> + <p> + “I was bored,” murmured Mrs. Travers in a reminiscent tone and with her + chin resting in the hollow of her hand. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers got up from the seaman's chest as unexpectedly as if he had + been stung by a wasp, but, of course, with a much slower and more solemn + motion. + </p> + <p> + “The matter with you, Edith, is that at heart you are perfectly + primitive.” Mrs. Travers stood up, too, with a supple, leisurely movement, + and raising her hands to her hair turned half away with a pensive remark: + </p> + <p> + “Imperfectly civilized.” + </p> + <p> + “Imperfectly disciplined,” corrected Mr. Travers after a moment of dreary + meditation. + </p> + <p> + She let her arms fall and turned her head. + </p> + <p> + “No, don't say that,” she protested with strange earnestness. “I am the + most severely disciplined person in the world. I am tempted to say that my + discipline has stopped at nothing short of killing myself. I suppose you + can hardly understand what I mean.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers made a slight grimace at the floor. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not try,” he said. “It sounds like something that a barbarian, + hating the delicate complexities and the restraints of a nobler life, + might have said. From you it strikes me as wilful bad taste. . . . I have + often wondered at your tastes. You have always liked extreme opinions, + exotic costumes, lawless characters, romantic personalities—like + d'Alcacer . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mr. d'Alcacer,” murmured Mrs. Travers. + </p> + <p> + “A man without any ideas of duty or usefulness,” said Mr. Travers, acidly. + “What are you pitying him for?” + </p> + <p> + “Why! For finding himself in this position out of mere good-nature. He had + nothing to expect from joining our voyage, no advantage for his political + ambitions or anything of the kind. I suppose you asked him on board to + break our tete-a-tete which must have grown wearisome to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am never bored,” declared Mr. Travers. “D'Alcacer seemed glad to come. + And, being a Spaniard, the horrible waste of time cannot matter to him in + the least.” + </p> + <p> + “Waste of time!” repeated Mrs. Travers, indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “He may yet have to pay for his good nature with his life.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers could not conceal a movement of anger. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I forgot those assumptions,” he said between his clenched teeth. “He + is a mere Spaniard. He takes this farcical conspiracy with perfect + nonchalance. Decayed races have their own philosophy.” + </p> + <p> + “He takes it with a dignity of his own.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you call his dignity. I should call it lack of + self-respect.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Because he is quiet and courteous, and reserves his judgment. And + allow me to tell you, Martin, that you are not taking our troubles very + well.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't expect from me all those foreign affectations. I am not in the + habit of compromising with my feelings.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers turned completely round and faced her husband. “You sulk,” + she said. . . . Mr. Travers jerked his head back a little as if to let the + word go past.—“I am outraged,” he declared. Mrs. Travers recognized + there something like real suffering.—“I assure you,” she said, + seriously (for she was accessible to pity), “I assure you that this + strange Lingard has no idea of your importance. He doesn't know anything + of your social and political position and still less of your great + ambitions.” Mr. Travers listened with some attention.—“Couldn't you + have enlightened him?” he asked.—“It would have been no use; his + mind is fixed upon his own position and upon his own sense of power. He is + a man of the lower classes. . . .”—“He is a brute,” said Mr. + Travers, obstinately, and for a moment those two looked straight into each + other's eyes.—“Oh,” said Mrs. Travers, slowly, “you are determined + not to compromise with your feelings!” An undertone of scorn crept into + her voice. “But shall I tell you what I think? I think,” and she advanced + her head slightly toward the pale, unshaven face that confronted her dark + eyes, “I think that for all your blind scorn you judge the man well enough + to feel that you can indulge your indignation with perfect safety. Do you + hear? With perfect safety!” Directly she had spoken she regretted these + words. Really it was unreasonable to take Mr. Travers' tricks of character + more passionately on this spot of the Eastern Archipelago full of obscure + plots and warring motives than in the more artificial atmosphere of the + town. After all what she wanted was simply to save his life, not to make + him understand anything. Mr. Travers opened his mouth and without uttering + a word shut it again. His wife turned toward the looking-glass nailed to + the wall. She heard his voice behind her. + </p> + <p> + “Edith, where's the truth in all this?” + </p> + <p> + She detected the anguish of a slow mind with an instinctive dread of + obscure places wherein new discoveries can be made. She looked over her + shoulder to say: + </p> + <p> + “It's on the surface, I assure you. Altogether on the surface.” + </p> + <p> + She turned again to the looking-glass where her own face met her with dark + eyes and a fair mist of hair above the smooth forehead; but her words had + produced no soothing effect. + </p> + <p> + “But what does it mean?” cried Mr. Travers. “Why doesn't the fellow + apologize? Why are we kept here? Are we being kept here? Why don't we get + away? Why doesn't he take me back on board my yacht? What does he want + from me? How did he procure our release from these people on shore who he + says intended to cut our throats? Why did they give us up to him instead?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers began to twist her hair on her head. + </p> + <p> + “Matters of high policy and of local politics. Conflict of personal + interests, mistrust between the parties, intrigues of individuals—you + ought to know how that sort of thing works. His diplomacy made use of all + that. The first thing to do was not to liberate you but to get you into + his keeping. He is a very great man here and let me tell you that your + safety depends on his dexterity in the use of his prestige rather than on + his power which he cannot use. If you would let him talk to you I am sure + he would tell you as much as it is possible for him to disclose.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to be told about any of his rascalities. But haven't you + been taken into his confidence?” + </p> + <p> + “Completely,” admitted Mrs. Travers, peering into the small looking-glass. + </p> + <p> + “What is the influence you brought to bear upon this man? It looks to me + as if our fate were in your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Your fate is not in my hands. It is not even in his hands. There is a + moral situation here which must be solved.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethics of blackmail,” commented Mr. Travers with unexpected sarcasm. It + flashed through his wife's mind that perhaps she didn't know him so well + as she had supposed. It was as if the polished and solemn crust of hard + proprieties had cracked slightly, here and there, under the strain, + disclosing the mere wrongheadedness of a common mortal. But it was only + manner that had cracked a little; the marvellous stupidity of his conceit + remained the same. She thought that this discussion was perfectly useless, + and as she finished putting up her hair she said: “I think we had better + go on deck now.” + </p> + <p> + “You propose to go out on deck like this?” muttered Mr. Travers with + downcast eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Like this? Certainly. It's no longer a novelty. Who is going to be + shocked?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers made no reply. What she had said of his attitude was very + true. He sulked at the enormous offensiveness of men, things, and events; + of words and even of glances which he seemed to feel physically resting on + his skin like a pain, like a degrading contact. He managed not to wince. + But he sulked. His wife continued, “And let me tell you that those clothes + are fit for a princess—I mean they are of the quality, material and + style custom prescribes for the highest in the land, a far-distant land + where I am informed women rule as much as the men. In fact they were meant + to be presented to an actual princess in due course. They were selected + with the greatest care for that child Immada. Captain Lingard. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers made an inarticulate noise partaking of a groan and a grunt. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must call him by some name and this I thought would be the least + offensive for you to hear. After all, the man exists. But he is known also + on a certain portion of the earth's surface as King Tom. D'Alcacer is + greatly taken by that name. It seems to him wonderfully well adapted to + the man, in its familiarity and deference. And if you prefer. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I would prefer to hear nothing,” said Mr. Travers, distinctly. “Not a + single word. Not even from you, till I am a free agent again. But words + don't touch me. Nothing can touch me; neither your sinister warnings nor + the moods of levity which you think proper to display before a man whose + life, according to you, hangs on a thread.” + </p> + <p> + “I never forget it for a moment,” said Mrs. Travers. “And I not only know + that it does but I also know the strength of the thread. It is a wonderful + thread. You may say if you like it has been spun by the same fate which + made you what you are.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers felt awfully offended. He had never heard anybody, let alone + his own self, addressed in such terms. The tone seemed to question his + very quality. He reflected with shocked amazement that he had lived with + that woman for eight years! And he said to her gloomily: + </p> + <p> + “You talk like a pagan.” + </p> + <p> + It was a very strong condemnation which apparently Mrs. Travers had failed + to hear for she pursued with animation: + </p> + <p> + “But really, you can't expect me to meditate on it all the time or shut + myself up here and mourn the circumstances from morning to night. It would + be morbid. Let us go on deck.” + </p> + <p> + “And you look simply heathenish in this costume,” Mr. Travers went on as + though he had not been interrupted, and with an accent of deliberate + disgust. + </p> + <p> + Her heart was heavy but everything he said seemed to force the tone of + levity on to her lips. “As long as I don't look like a guy,” she remarked, + negligently, and then caught the direction of his lurid stare which as a + matter of fact was fastened on her bare feet. She checked herself, “Oh, + yes, if you prefer it I will put on my stockings. But you know I must be + very careful of them. It's the only pair I have here. I have washed them + this morning in that bathroom which is built over the stern. They are now + drying over the rail just outside. Perhaps you will be good enough to pass + them to me when you go on deck.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers spun round and went on deck without a word. As soon as she was + alone Mrs. Travers pressed her hands to her temples, a gesture of distress + which relieved her by its sincerity. The measured footsteps of two men + came to her plainly from the deck, rhythmic and double with a suggestion + of tranquil and friendly intercourse. She distinguished particularly the + footfalls of the man whose life's orbit was most remote from her own. And + yet the orbits had cut! A few days ago she could not have even conceived + of his existence, and now he was the man whose footsteps, it seemed to + her, her ears could single unerringly in the tramp of a crowd. It was, + indeed, a fabulous thing. In the half light of her over-heated shelter she + let an irresolute, frightened smile pass off her lips before she, too, + went on deck. + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + An ingeniously constructed framework of light posts and thin laths + occupied the greater part of the deck amidships of the Emma. The four + walls of that airy structure were made of muslin. It was comparatively + lofty. A door-like arrangement of light battens filled with calico was + further protected by a system of curtains calculated to baffle the pursuit + of mosquitoes that haunted the shores of the lagoon in great singing + clouds from sunset till sunrise. A lot of fine mats covered the deck space + within the transparent shelter devised by Lingard and Jorgenson to make + Mrs. Travers' existence possible during the time when the fate of the two + men, and indeed probably of everybody else on board the Emma, had to hang + in the balance. Very soon Lingard's unbidden and fatal guests had learned + the trick of stepping in and out of the place quickly. Mr. d'Alcacer + performed the feat without apparent haste, almost nonchalantly, yet as + well as anybody. It was generally conceded that he had never let a + mosquito in together with himself. Mr. Travers dodged in and out without + grace and was obviously much irritated at the necessity. Mrs. Travers did + it in a manner all her own, with marked cleverness and an unconscious air. + There was an improvised table in there and some wicker armchairs which + Jorgenson had produced from somewhere in the depths of the ship. It was + hard to say what the inside of the Emma did not contain. It was crammed + with all sorts of goods like a general store. That old hulk was the + arsenal and the war-chest of Lingard's political action; she was stocked + with muskets and gunpowder, with bales of longcloth, of cotton prints, of + silks; with bags of rice and currency brass guns. She contained everything + necessary for dealing death and distributing bribes, to act on the + cupidity and upon the fears of men, to march and to organize, to feed the + friends and to combat the enemies of the cause. She held wealth and power + in her flanks, that grounded ship that would swim no more, without masts + and with the best part of her deck cumbered by the two structures of thin + boards and of transparent muslin. + </p> + <p> + Within the latter lived the Europeans, visible in the daytime to the few + Malays on board as if through a white haze. In the evening the lighting of + the hurricane lamps inside turned them into dark phantoms surrounded by a + shining mist, against which the insect world rushing in its millions out + of the forest on the bank was baffled mysteriously in its assault. Rigidly + enclosed by transparent walls, like captives of an enchanted cobweb, they + moved about, sat, gesticulated, conversed publicly during the day; and at + night when all the lanterns but one were extinguished, their slumbering + shapes covered all over by white cotton sheets on the camp bedsteads, + which were brought in every evening, conveyed the gruesome suggestion of + dead bodies reposing on stretchers. The food, such as it was, was served + within that glorified mosquito net which everybody called the “Cage” + without any humorous intention. At meal times the party from the yacht had + the company of Lingard who attached to this ordeal a sense of duty + performed at the altar of civility and conciliation. He could have no + conception how much his presence added to the exasperation of Mr. Travers + because Mr. Travers' manner was too intensely consistent to present any + shades. It was determined by an ineradicable conviction that he was a + victim held to ransom on some incomprehensible terms by an extraordinary + and outrageous bandit. This conviction, strung to the highest pitch, never + left him for a moment, being the object of indignant meditation to his + mind, and even clinging, as it were, to his very body. It lurked in his + eyes, in his gestures, in his ungracious mutters, and in his sinister + silences. The shock to his moral being had ended by affecting Mr. Travers' + physical machine. He was aware of hepatic pains, suffered from accesses of + somnolence and suppressed gusts of fury which frightened him secretly. His + complexion had acquired a yellow tinge, while his heavy eyes had become + bloodshot because of the smoke of the open wood fires during his three + days' detention inside Belarab's stockade. His eyes had been always very + sensitive to outward conditions. D'Alcacer's fine black eyes were more + enduring and his appearance did not differ very much from his ordinary + appearance on board the yacht. He had accepted with smiling thanks the + offer of a thin blue flannel tunic from Jorgenson. Those two men were much + of the same build, though of course d'Alcacer, quietly alive and + spiritually watchful, did not resemble Jorgenson, who, without being + exactly macabre, behaved more like an indifferent but restless corpse. + Those two could not be said to have ever conversed together. Conversation + with Jorgenson was an impossible thing. Even Lingard never attempted the + feat. He propounded questions to Jorgenson much as a magician would + interrogate an evoked shade, or gave him curt directions as one would make + use of some marvellous automaton. And that was apparently the way in which + Jorgenson preferred to be treated. Lingard's real company on board the + Emma was d'Alcacer. D'Alcacer had met Lingard on the easy terms of a man + accustomed all his life to good society in which the very affectations + must be carried on without effort. Whether affectation, or nature, or + inspired discretion, d'Alcacer never let the slightest curiosity pierce + the smoothness of his level, grave courtesy lightened frequently by slight + smiles which often had not much connection with the words he uttered, + except that somehow they made them sound kindly and as it were tactful. In + their character, however, those words were strictly neutral. + </p> + <p> + The only time when Lingard had detected something of a deeper + comprehension in d'Alcacer was the day after the long negotiations inside + Belarab's stockade for the temporary surrender of the prisoners. That move + had been suggested to him, exactly as Mrs. Travers had told her husband, + by the rivalries of the parties and the state of public opinion in the + Settlement deprived of the presence of the man who, theoretically at + least, was the greatest power and the visible ruler of the Shore of + Refuge. Belarab still lingered at his father's tomb. Whether that man of + the embittered and pacific heart had withdrawn there to meditate upon the + unruliness of mankind and the thankless nature of his task; or whether he + had gone there simply to bathe in a particularly clear pool which was a + feature of the place, give himself up to the enjoyment of a certain fruit + which grew in profusion there and indulge for a time in a scrupulous + performance of religious exercises, his absence from the Settlement was a + fact of the utmost gravity. It is true that the prestige of a + long-unquestioned rulership and the long-settled mental habits of the + people had caused the captives to be taken straight to Belarab's stockade + as a matter of course. Belarab, at a distance, could still outweigh the + power on the spot of Tengga, whose secret purposes were no better known, + who was jovial, talkative, outspoken and pugnacious; but who was not a + professed servant of God famed for many charities and a scrupulous + performance of pious practices, and who also had no father who had + achieved a local saintship. But Belarab, with his glamour of asceticism + and melancholy together with a reputation for severity (for a man so pious + would be naturally ruthless), was not on the spot. The only favourable + point in his absence was the fact that he had taken with him his latest + wife, the same lady whom Jorgenson had mentioned in his letter to Lingard + as anxious to bring about battle, murder, and the looting of the yacht, + not because of inborn wickedness of heart but from a simple desire for + silks, jewels and other objects of personal adornment, quite natural in a + girl so young and elevated to such a high position. Belarab had selected + her to be the companion of his retirement and Lingard was glad of it. He + was not afraid of her influence over Belarab. He knew his man. No words, + no blandishments, no sulks, scoldings, or whisperings of a favourite could + affect either the resolves or the irresolutions of that Arab whose action + ever seemed to hang in mystic suspense between the contradictory + speculations and judgments disputing the possession of his will. It was + not what Belarab would either suddenly do or leisurely determine upon that + Lingard was afraid of. The danger was that in his taciturn hesitation, + which had something hopelessly godlike in its remote calmness, the man + would do nothing and leave his white friend face to face with unruly + impulses against which Lingard had no means of action but force which he + dared not use since it would mean the destruction of his plans and the + downfall of his hopes; and worse still would wear an aspect of treachery + to Hassim and Immada, those fugitives whom he had snatched away from the + jaws of death on a night of storm and had promised to lead back in triumph + to their own country he had seen but once, sleeping unmoved under the + wrath and fire of heaven. + </p> + <p> + On the afternoon of the very day he had arrived with her on board the Emma—to + the infinite disgust of Jorgenson—Lingard held with Mrs. Travers + (after she had had a couple of hours' rest) a long, fiery, and perplexed + conversation. From the nature of the problem it could not be exhaustive; + but toward the end of it they were both feeling thoroughly exhausted. Mrs. + Travers had no longer to be instructed as to facts and possibilities. She + was aware of them only too well and it was not her part to advise or + argue. She was not called upon to decide or to plead. The situation was + far beyond that. But she was worn out with watching the passionate + conflict within the man who was both so desperately reckless and so + rigidly restrained in the very ardour of his heart and the greatness of + his soul. It was a spectacle that made her forget the actual questions at + issue. This was no stage play; and yet she had caught herself looking at + him with bated breath as at a great actor on a darkened stage in some + simple and tremendous drama. He extorted from her a response to the forces + that seemed to tear at his single-minded brain, at his guileless breast. + He shook her with his own struggles, he possessed her with his emotions + and imposed his personality as if its tragedy were the only thing worth + considering in this matter. And yet what had she to do with all those + obscure and barbarous things? Obviously nothing. Unluckily she had been + taken into the confidence of that man's passionate perplexity, a + confidence provoked apparently by nothing but the power of her + personality. She was flattered, and even more, she was touched by it; she + was aware of something that resembled gratitude and provoked a sort of + emotional return as between equals who had secretly recognized each + other's value. Yet at the same time she regretted not having been left in + the dark; as much in the dark as Mr. Travers himself or d'Alcacer, though + as to the latter it was impossible to say how much precise, unaccountable, + intuitive knowledge was buried under his unruffled manner. + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer was the sort of man whom it would be much easier to suspect of + anything in the world than ignorance—or stupidity. Naturally he + couldn't know anything definite or even guess at the bare outline of the + facts but somehow he must have scented the situation in those few days of + contact with Lingard. He was an acute and sympathetic observer in all his + secret aloofness from the life of men which was so very different from + Jorgenson's secret divorce from the passions of this earth. Mrs. Travers + would have liked to share with d'Alcacer the burden (for it was a burden) + of Lingard's story. After all, she had not provoked those confidences, + neither had that unexpected adventurer from the sea laid on her an + obligation of secrecy. No, not even by implication. He had never said to + her that she was the <i>only</i> person whom he wished to know that story. + </p> + <p> + No. What he had said was that she was the only person to whom he <i>could</i> + tell the tale himself, as if no one else on earth had the power to draw it + from him. That was the sense and nothing more. Yes, it would have been a + relief to tell d'Alcacer. It would have been a relief to her feeling of + being shut off from the world alone with Lingard as if within the four + walls of a romantic palace and in an exotic atmosphere. Yes, that relief + and also another: that of sharing the responsibility with somebody fit to + understand. Yet she shrank from it, with unaccountable reserve, as if by + talking of Lingard with d'Alcacer she was bound to give him an insight + into herself. It was a vague uneasiness and yet so persistent that she + felt it, too, when she had to approach and talk to Lingard under + d'Alcacer's eyes. Not that Mr. d'Alcacer would ever dream of staring or + even casting glances. But was he averting his eyes on purpose? That would + be even more offensive. + </p> + <p> + “I am stupid,” whispered Mrs. Travers to herself, with a complete and + reassuring conviction. Yet she waited motionless till the footsteps of the + two men stopped outside the deckhouse, then separated and died away, + before she went out on deck. She came out on deck some time after her + husband. As if in intended contrast to the conflicts of men a great aspect + of serenity lay upon all visible things. Mr. Travers had gone inside the + Cage in which he really looked like a captive and thoroughly out of place. + D'Alcacer had gone in there, too, but he preserved—or was it an + illusion?—an air of independence. It was not that he put it on. Like + Mr. Travers he sat in a wicker armchair in very much the same attitude as + the other gentleman and also silent; but there was somewhere a subtle + difference which did away with the notion of captivity. Moreover, + d'Alcacer had that peculiar gift of never looking out of place in any + surroundings. Mrs. Travers, in order to save her European boots for active + service, had been persuaded to use a pair of leather sandals also + extracted from that seaman's chest in the deckhouse. An additional + fastening had been put on them but she could not avoid making a delicate + clatter as she walked on the deck. No part of her costume made her feel so + exotic. It also forced her to alter her usual gait and move with quick, + short steps very much like Immada. + </p> + <p> + “I am robbing the girl of her clothes,” she had thought to herself, + “besides other things.” She knew by this time that a girl of such high + rank would never dream of wearing anything that had been worn by somebody + else. + </p> + <p> + At the slight noise of Mrs. Travers' sandals d'Alcacer looked over the + back of his chair. But he turned his head away at once and Mrs. Travers, + leaning her elbow on the rail and resting her head on the palm of her + hand, looked across the calm surface of the lagoon, idly. + </p> + <p> + She was turning her back on the Cage, the fore-part of the deck and the + edge of the nearest forest. That great erection of enormous solid trunks, + dark, rugged columns festooned with writhing creepers and steeped in + gloom, was so close to the bank that by looking over the side of the ship + she could see inverted in the glassy belt of water its massive and black + reflection on the reflected sky that gave the impression of a clear blue + abyss seen through a transparent film. And when she raised her eyes the + same abysmal immobility seemed to reign over the whole sun-bathed + enlargement of that lagoon which was one of the secret places of the + earth. She felt strongly her isolation. She was so much the only being of + her kind moving within this mystery that even to herself she looked like + an apparition without rights and without defence and that must end by + surrendering to those forces which seemed to her but the expression of the + unconscious genius of the place. Hers was the most complete loneliness, + charged with a catastrophic tension. It lay about her as though she had + been set apart within a magic circle. It cut off—but it did not + protect. The footsteps that she knew how to distinguish above all others + on that deck were heard suddenly behind her. She did not turn her head. + </p> + <p> + Since that afternoon when the gentlemen, as Lingard called them, had been + brought on board, Mrs. Travers and Lingard had not exchanged one + significant word. + </p> + <p> + When Lingard had decided to proceed by way of negotiation she had asked + him on what he based his hope of success; and he had answered her: “On my + luck.” What he really depended on was his prestige; but even if he had + been aware of such a word he would not have used it, since it would have + sounded like a boast. And, besides, he did really believe in his luck. + Nobody, either white or brown, had ever doubted his word and that, of + course, gave him great assurance in entering upon the negotiation. But the + ultimate issue of it would be always a matter of luck. He said so + distinctly to Mrs. Travers at the moment of taking leave of her, with + Jorgenson already waiting for him in the boat that was to take them across + the lagoon to Belarab's stockade. + </p> + <p> + Startled by his decision (for it had come suddenly clinched by the words + “I believe I can do it”), Mrs. Travers had dropped her hand into his + strong open palm on which an expert in palmistry could have distinguished + other lines than the line of luck. Lingard's hand closed on hers with a + gentle pressure. She looked at him, speechless. He waited for a moment, + then in an unconsciously tender voice he said: “Well, wish me luck then.” + </p> + <p> + She remained silent. And he still holding her hand looked surprised at her + hesitation. It seemed to her that she could not let him go, and she didn't + know what to say till it occurred to her to make use of the power she knew + she had over him. She would try it again. “I am coming with you,” she + declared with decision. “You don't suppose I could remain here in suspense + for hours, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + He dropped her hand suddenly as if it had burnt him—“Oh, yes, of + course,” he mumbled with an air of confusion. One of the men over there + was her husband! And nothing less could be expected from such a woman. He + had really nothing to say but she thought he hesitated.—“Do you + think my presence would spoil everything? I assure you I am a lucky + person, too, in a way. . . . As lucky as you, at least,” she had added in + a murmur and with a smile which provoked his responsive mutter—“Oh, + yes, we are a lucky pair of people.”—“I count myself lucky in having + found a man like you to fight my—our battles,” she said, warmly. + “Suppose you had not existed? . . . . You must let me come with you!” For + the second time before her expressed wish to stand by his side he bowed + his head. After all, if things came to the worst, she would be as safe + between him and Jorgenson as left alone on board the Emma with a few Malay + spearmen for all defence. For a moment Lingard thought of picking up the + pistols he had taken out of his belt preparatory to joining Jorgenson in + the boat, thinking it would be better to go to a big talk completely + unarmed. They were lying on the rail but he didn't pick them up. Four + shots didn't matter. They could not matter if the world of his creation + were to go to pieces. He said nothing of that to Mrs. Travers but busied + himself in giving her the means to alter her personal appearance. It was + then that the sea-chest in the deckhouse was opened for the first time + before the interested Mrs. Travers who had followed him inside. Lingard + handed to her a Malay woman's light cotton coat with jewelled clasps to + put over her European dress. It covered half of her yachting skirt. Mrs. + Travers obeyed him without comment. He pulled out a long and wide scarf of + white silk embroidered heavily on the edges and ends, and begged her to + put it over her head and arrange the ends so as to muffle her face, + leaving little more than her eyes exposed to view.—“We are going + amongst a lot of Mohammedans,” he explained.—“I see. You want me to + look respectable,” she jested.—“I assure you, Mrs. Travers,” he + protested, earnestly, “that most of the people there and certainly all the + great men have never seen a white woman in their lives. But perhaps you + would like better one of those other scarves? There are three in there.”—“No, + I like this one well enough. They are all very gorgeous. I see that the + Princess is to be sent back to her land with all possible splendour. What + a thoughtful man you are, Captain Lingard. That child will be touched by + your generosity. . . . Will I do like this?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lingard, averting his eyes. Mrs. Travers followed him into the + boat where the Malays stared in silence while Jorgenson, stiff and + angular, gave no sign of life, not even so much as a movement of the eyes. + Lingard settled her in the stern sheets and sat down by her side. The + ardent sunshine devoured all colours. The boat swam forward on the glare + heading for the strip of coral beach dazzling like a crescent of metal + raised to a white heat. They landed. Gravely, Jorgenson opened above Mrs. + Travers' head a big white cotton parasol and she advanced between the two + men, dazed, as if in a dream and having no other contact with the earth + but through the soles of her feet. Everything was still, empty, + incandescent, and fantastic. Then when the gate of the stockade was thrown + open she perceived an expectant and still multitude of bronze figures + draped in coloured stuffs. They crowded the patches of shade under the + three lofty forest trees left within the enclosure between the sun-smitten + empty spaces of hard-baked ground. The broad blades of the spears + decorated with crimson tufts of horsehair had a cool gleam under the + outspread boughs. To the left a group of buildings on piles with long + verandahs and immense roofs towered high in the air above the heads of the + crowd, and seemed to float in the glare, looking much less substantial + than their heavy shadows. Lingard, pointing to one of the smallest, said + in an undertone, “I lived there for a fortnight when I first came to see + Belarab”; and Mrs. Travers felt more than ever as if walking in a dream + when she perceived beyond the rails of its verandah and visible from head + to foot two figures in an armour of chain mail with pointed steel helmets + crested with white and black feathers and guarding the closed door. A high + bench draped in turkey cloth stood in an open space of the great audience + shed. Lingard led her up to it, Jorgenson on her other side closed the + parasol calmly, and when she sat down between them the whole throng before + her eyes sank to the ground with one accord disclosing in the distance of + the courtyard a lonely figure leaning against the smooth trunk of a tree. + A white cloth was fastened round his head by a yellow cord. Its pointed + ends fell on his shoulders, framing a thin dark face with large eyes, a + silk cloak striped black and white fell to his feet, and in the distance + he looked aloof and mysterious in his erect and careless attitude + suggesting assurance and power. + </p> + <p> + Lingard, bending slightly, whispered into Mrs. Travers' ear that that man, + apart and dominating the scene, was Daman, the supreme leader of the + Illanuns, the one who had ordered the capture of those gentlemen in order + perhaps to force his hand. The two barbarous, half-naked figures covered + with ornaments and charms, squatting at his feet with their heads enfolded + in crimson and gold handkerchiefs and with straight swords lying across + their knees, were the Pangerans who carried out the order, and had brought + the captives into the lagoon. But the two men in chain armour on watch + outside the door of the small house were Belarab's two particular + body-guards, who got themselves up in that way only on very great + occasions. They were the outward and visible sign that the prisoners were + in Belarab's keeping, and this was good, so far. The pity was that the + Great Chief himself was not there. Then Lingard assumed a formal pose and + Mrs. Travers stared into the great courtyard and with rows and rows of + faces ranged on the ground at her feet felt a little giddy for a moment. + </p> + <p> + Every movement had died in the crowd. Even the eyes were still under the + variegated mass of coloured headkerchiefs: while beyond the open gate a + noble palm tree looked intensely black against the glitter of the lagoon + and the pale incandescence of the sky. Mrs. Travers gazing that way + wondered at the absence of Hassim and Immada. But the girl might have been + somewhere within one of the houses with the ladies of Belarab's stockade. + Then suddenly Mrs. Travers became aware that another bench had been + brought out and was already occupied by five men dressed in gorgeous + silks, and embroidered velvets, round-faced and grave. Their hands reposed + on their knees; but one amongst them clad in a white robe and with a large + nearly black turban on his head leaned forward a little with his chin in + his hand. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes remained fixed on the ground + as if to avoid looking at the infidel woman. + </p> + <p> + She became aware suddenly of a soft murmur, and glancing at Lingard she + saw him in an attitude of impassive attention. The momentous negotiations + had begun, and it went on like this in low undertones with long pauses and + in the immobility of all the attendants squatting on the ground, with the + distant figure of Daman far off in the shade towering over all the + assembly. But in him, too, Mrs. Travers could not detect the slightest + movement while the slightly modulated murmurs went on enveloping her in a + feeling of peace. + </p> + <p> + The fact that she couldn't understand anything of what was said soothed + her apprehensions. Sometimes a silence fell and Lingard bending toward her + would whisper, “It isn't so easy,” and the stillness would be so perfect + that she would hear the flutter of a pigeon's wing somewhere high up in + the great overshadowing trees. And suddenly one of the men before her + without moving a limb would begin another speech rendered more mysterious + still by the total absence of action or play of feature. Only the + watchfulness of the eyes which showed that the speaker was not communing + with himself made it clear that this was not a spoken meditation but a + flow of argument directed to Lingard who now and then uttered a few words + either with a grave or a smiling expression. They were always followed by + murmurs which seemed mostly to her to convey assent; and then a reflective + silence would reign again and the immobility of the crowd would appear + more perfect than before. + </p> + <p> + When Lingard whispered to her that it was now his turn to make a speech + Mrs. Travers expected him to get up and assert himself by some commanding + gesture. But he did not. He remained seated, only his voice had a + vibrating quality though he obviously tried to restrain it, and it + travelled masterfully far into the silence. He spoke for a long time while + the sun climbing the unstained sky shifted the diminished shadows of the + trees, pouring on the heads of men its heat through the thick and + motionless foliage. Whenever murmurs arose he would stop and glancing + fearlessly at the assembly, wait till they subsided. Once or twice, they + rose to a loud hum and Mrs. Travers could hear on the other side of her + Jorgenson muttering something in his moustache. Beyond the rows of heads + Daman under the tree had folded his arms on his breast. The edge of the + white cloth concealed his forehead and at his feet the two Illanun chiefs, + half naked and bedecked with charms and ornaments of bright feathers, of + shells, with necklaces of teeth, claws, and shining beads, remained + cross-legged with their swords across their knees like two bronze idols. + Even the plumes of their head-dresses stirred not. + </p> + <p> + “Sudah! It is finished!” A movement passed along all the heads, the seated + bodies swayed to and fro. Lingard had ceased speaking. He remained seated + for a moment looking his audience all over and when he stood up together + with Mrs. Travers and Jorgenson the whole assembly rose from the ground + together and lost its ordered formation. Some of Belarab's retainers, + young broad-faced fellows, wearing a sort of uniform of check-patterned + sarongs, black silk jackets and crimson skull-caps set at a rakish angle, + swaggered through the broken groups and ranged themselves in two rows + before the motionless Daman and his Illanun chiefs in martial array. The + members of the council who had left their bench approached the white + people with gentle smiles and deferential movements of the hands. Their + bearing was faintly propitiatory; only the man in the big turban remained + fanatically aloof, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “I have done it,” murmured Lingard to Mrs. Travers.—“Was it very + difficult?” she asked.—“No,” he said, conscious in his heart that he + had strained to the fullest extent the prestige of his good name and that + habit of deference to his slightest wish established by the glamour of his + wealth and the fear of his personality in this great talk which after all + had done nothing except put off the decisive hour. He offered Mrs. Travers + his arm ready to lead her away, but at the last moment did not move. + </p> + <p> + With an authoritative gesture Daman had parted the ranks of Belarab's + young followers with the red skullcaps and was seen advancing toward the + whites striking into an astonished silence all the scattered groups in the + courtyard. But the broken ranks had closed behind him. The Illanun chiefs, + for all their truculent aspect, were much too prudent to attempt to move. + They had not needed for that the faint warning murmur from Daman. He + advanced alone. The plain hilt of a sword protruded from the open edges of + his cloak. The parted edges disclosed also the butts of two flintlock + pistols. The Koran in a velvet case hung on his breast by a red cord of + silk. He was pious, magnificent, and warlike, with calm movements and a + straight glance from under the hem of the simple piece of linen covering + his head. He carried himself rigidly and his bearing had a sort of solemn + modesty. Lingard said hurriedly to Mrs. Travers that the man had met white + people before and that, should he attempt to shake hands with her, she + ought to offer her own covered with the end of her scarf.—“Why?” she + asked. “Propriety?”—“Yes, it will be better,” said Lingard and the + next moment Mrs. Travers felt her enveloped hand pressed gently by slender + dark fingers and felt extremely Oriental herself when, with her face + muffled to the eyes, she encountered the lustrous black stare of the + sea-robbers' leader. It was only for an instant, because Daman turned away + at once to shake hands with Lingard. In the straight, ample folds of his + robes he looked very slender facing the robust white man. + </p> + <p> + “Great is your power,” he said, in a pleasant voice. “The white men are + going to be delivered to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they pass into my keeping,” said Lingard, returning the other's + bright smile but otherwise looking grim enough with the frown which had + settled on his forehead at Daman's approach. He glanced over his shoulder + at a group of spearmen escorting the two captives who had come down the + steps from the hut. At the sight of Daman barring as it were Lingard's way + they had stopped at some distance and had closed round the two white men. + Daman also glanced dispassionately that way. + </p> + <p> + “They were my guests,” he murmured. “Please God I shall come soon to ask + you for them . . . as a friend,” he added after a slight pause. + </p> + <p> + “And please God you will not go away empty handed,” said Lingard, + smoothing his brow. “After all you and I were not meant to meet only to + quarrel. Would you have preferred to see them pass into Tengga's keeping?” + </p> + <p> + “Tengga is fat and full of wiles,” said Daman, disdainfully, “a mere + shopkeeper smitten by a desire to be a chief. He is nothing. But you and I + are men that have real power. Yet there is a truth that you and I can + confess to each other. Men's hearts grow quickly discontented. Listen. The + leaders of men are carried forward in the hands of their followers; and + common men's minds are unsteady, their desires changeable, and their + thoughts not to be trusted. You are a great chief they say. Do not forget + that I am a chief, too, and a leader of armed men.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard of you, too,” said Lingard in a composed voice. + </p> + <p> + Daman had cast his eyes down. Suddenly he opened them very wide with an + effect that startled Mrs. Travers.—“Yes. But do you see?” Mrs. + Travers, her hand resting lightly on Lingard's arm, had the sensation of + acting in a gorgeously got up play on the brilliantly lighted stage of an + exotic opera whose accompaniment was not music but the varied strains of + the all-pervading silence.—“Yes, I see,” Lingard replied with a + surprisingly confidential intonation. “But power, too, is in the hands of + a great leader.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers watched the faint movements of Daman's nostrils as though the + man were suffering from some powerful emotion, while under her fingers + Lingard's forearm in its white sleeve was as steady as a limb of marble. + Without looking at him she seemed to feel that with one movement he could + crush that nervous figure in which lived the breath of the great desert + haunted by his nomad, camel-riding ancestors.—“Power is in the hand + of God,” he said, all animation dying out of his face, and paused to wait + for Lingard's “Very true,” then continued with a fine smile, “but He + apportions it according to His will for His own purposes, even to those + that are not of the Faith.” + </p> + <p> + “Such being the will of God you should harbour no bitterness against them + in your heart.” + </p> + <p> + The low exclamation, “Against those!” and a slight dismissing gesture of a + meagre dark hand out of the folds of the cloak were almost understandable + to Mrs. Travers in the perfection of their melancholy contempt, and gave + Lingard a further insight into the character of the ally secured to him by + the diplomacy of Belarab. He was only half reassured by this assumption of + superior detachment. He trusted to the man's self-interest more; for Daman + no doubt looked to the reconquered kingdom for the reward of dignity and + ease. His father and grandfather (the men of whom Jorgenson had written as + having been hanged for an example twelve years before) had been friends of + Sultans, advisers of Rulers, wealthy financiers of the great raiding + expeditions of the past. It was hatred that had turned Daman into a + self-made outcast, till Belarab's diplomacy had drawn him out from some + obscure and uneasy retreat. + </p> + <p> + In a few words Lingard assured Daman of the complete safety of his + followers as long as they themselves made no attempt to get possession of + the stranded yacht. Lingard understood very well that the capture of + Travers and d'Alcacer was the result of a sudden fear, a move directed by + Daman to secure his own safety. The sight of the stranded yacht shook his + confidence completely. It was as if the secrets of the place had been + betrayed. After all, it was perhaps a great folly to trust any white man, + no matter how much he seemed estranged from his own people. Daman felt he + might have been the victim of a plot. Lingard's brig appeared to him a + formidable engine of war. He did not know what to think and the motive for + getting hold of the two white men was really the wish to secure hostages. + Distrusting the fierce impulses of his followers he had hastened to put + them into Belarab's keeping. But everything in the Settlement seemed to + him suspicious: Belarab's absence, Jorgenson's refusal to make over at + once the promised supply of arms and ammunition. And now that white man + had by the power of his speech got them away from Belarab's people. So + much influence filled Daman with wonder and awe. A recluse for many years + in the most obscure corner of the Archipelago he felt himself surrounded + by intrigues. But the alliance was a great thing, too. He did not want to + quarrel. He was quite willing for the time being to accept Lingard's + assurance that no harm should befall his people encamped on the sandbanks. + Attentive and slight, he seemed to let Lingard's deliberate words sink + into him. The force of that unarmed big man seemed overwhelming. He bowed + his head slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Allah is our refuge,” he murmured, accepting the inevitable. + </p> + <p> + He delighted Mrs. Travers not as a living being but like a clever sketch + in colours, a vivid rendering of an artist's vision of some soul, delicate + and fierce. His bright half-smile was extraordinary, sharp like clear + steel, painfully penetrating. Glancing right and left Mrs. Travers saw the + whole courtyard smitten by the desolating fury of sunshine and peopled + with shadows, their forms and colours fading in the violence of the light. + The very brown tones of roof and wall dazzled the eye. Then Daman stepped + aside. He was no longer smiling and Mrs. Travers advanced with her hand on + Lingard's arm through a heat so potent that it seemed to have a taste, a + feel, a smell of its own. She moved on as if floating in it with Lingard's + support. + </p> + <p> + “Where are they?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “They are following us all right,” he answered. Lingard was so certain + that the prisoners would be delivered to him on the beach that he never + glanced back till, after reaching the boat, he and Mrs. Travers turned + about. + </p> + <p> + The group of spearmen parted right and left, and Mr. Travers and d'Alcacer + walked forward alone looking unreal and odd like their own day-ghosts. Mr. + Travers gave no sign of being aware of his wife's presence. It was + certainly a shock to him. But d'Alcacer advanced smiling, as if the beach + were a drawing room. + </p> + <p> + With a very few paddlers the heavy old European-built boat moved slowly + over the water that seemed as pale and blazing as the sky above. Jorgenson + had perched himself in the bow. The other four white people sat in the + stern sheets, the ex-prisoners side by side in the middle. Lingard spoke + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “I want you both to understand that the trouble is not over yet. Nothing + is finished. You are out on my bare word.” + </p> + <p> + While Lingard was speaking Mr. Travers turned his face away but d'Alcacer + listened courteously. Not another word was spoken for the rest of the way. + The two gentlemen went up the ship's side first. Lingard remained to help + Mrs. Travers at the foot of the ladder. She pressed his hand strongly and + looking down at his upturned face: + </p> + <p> + “This was a wonderful success,” she said. + </p> + <p> + For a time the character of his fascinated gaze did not change. It was as + if she had said nothing. Then he whispered, admiringly, “You understand + everything.” + </p> + <p> + She moved her eyes away and had to disengage her hand to which he clung + for a moment, giddy, like a man falling out of the world. + </p> + <p> + III + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers, acutely aware of Lingard behind her, remained gazing over + the lagoon. After a time he stepped forward and placed himself beside her + close to the rail. She went on staring at the sheet of water turned to + deep purple under the sunset sky. + </p> + <p> + “Why have you been avoiding me since we came back from the stockade?” she + asked in a deadened voice. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to tell you till Rajah Hassim and his sister Immada + return with some news,” Lingard answered in the same tone. “Has my friend + succeeded? Will Belarab listen to any arguments? Will he consent to come + out of his shell? Is he on his way back? I wish I knew! . . . Not a + whisper comes from there! He may have started two days ago and he may be + now near the outskirts of the Settlement. Or he may have gone into camp + half way down, from some whim or other; or he may be already arrived for + all I know. We should not have seen him. The road from the hills does not + lead along the beach.” + </p> + <p> + He snatched nervously at the long glass and directed it at the dark + stockade. The sun had sunk behind the forests leaving the contour of the + tree-tops outlined by a thread of gold under a band of delicate green + lying across the lower sky. Higher up a faint crimson glow faded into the + darkened blue overhead. The shades of the evening deepened over the + lagoon, clung to the sides of the Emma and to the forms of the further + shore. Lingard laid the glass down. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. d'Alcacer, too, seems to have been avoiding me,” said Mrs. Travers. + “You are on very good terms with him, Captain Lingard.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a very pleasant man,” murmured Lingard, absently. “But he says + funny things sometimes. He inquired the other day if there were any + playing cards on board, and when I asked him if he liked card-playing, + just for something to say, he told me with that queer smile of his that he + had read a story of some people condemned to death who passed the time + before execution playing card games with their guards.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I told him that there were probably cards on board somewhere—Jorgenson + would know. Then I asked him whether he looked on me as a gaoler. He was + quite startled and sorry for what he said.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't very kind of you, Captain Lingard.” + </p> + <p> + “It slipped out awkwardly and we made it up with a laugh.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers leaned her elbows on the rail and put her head into her + hands. Every attitude of that woman surprised Lingard by its enchanting + effect upon himself. He sighed, and the silence lasted for a long while. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had understood every word that was said that morning.” + </p> + <p> + “That morning,” repeated Lingard. “What morning do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean the morning when I walked out of Belarab's stockade on your arm, + Captain Lingard, at the head of the procession. It seemed to me that I was + walking on a splendid stage in a scene from an opera, in a gorgeous show + fit to make an audience hold its breath. You can't possibly guess how + unreal all this seemed, and how artificial I felt myself. An opera, you + know. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I know. I was a gold digger at one time. Some of us used to come down to + Melbourne with our pockets full of money. I daresay it was poor enough to + what you must have seen, but once I went to a show like that. It was a + story acted to music. All the people went singing through it right to the + very end.” + </p> + <p> + “How it must have jarred on your sense of reality,” said Mrs. Travers, + still not looking at him. “You don't remember the name of the opera?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I never troubled my head about it. We—our lot never did.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't ask you what the story was like. It must have appeared to you + like the very defiance of all truth. Would real people go singing through + their life anywhere except in a fairy tale?” + </p> + <p> + “These people didn't always sing for joy,” said Lingard, simply. “I don't + know much about fairy tales.” + </p> + <p> + “They are mostly about princesses,” murmured Mrs. Travers. + </p> + <p> + Lingard didn't quite hear. He bent his ear for a moment but she wasn't + looking at him and he didn't ask her to repeat her remark. “Fairy tales + are for children, I believe,” he said. “But that story with music I am + telling you of, Mrs. Travers, was not a tale for children. I assure you + that of the few shows I have seen that one was the most real to me. More + real than anything in life.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers, remembering the fatal inanity of most opera librettos, was + touched by these words as if there had been something pathetic in this + readiness of response; as if she had heard a starved man talking of the + delight of a crust of dry bread. “I suppose you forgot yourself in that + story, whatever it was,” she remarked in a detached tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it carried me away. But I suppose you know the feeling.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I never knew anything of the kind, not even when I was a chit of a + girl.” Lingard seemed to accept this statement as an assertion of + superiority. He inclined his head slightly. Moreover, she might have said + what she liked. What pleased him most was her not looking at him; for it + enabled him to contemplate with perfect freedom the curve of her cheek, + her small ear half hidden by the clear mesh of fine hair, the fascination + of her uncovered neck. And her whole person was an impossible, an amazing + and solid marvel which somehow was not so much convincing to the eye as to + something within him that was apparently independent of his senses. Not + even for a moment did he think of her as remote. Untouchable—possibly! + But remote—no. Whether consciously or unconsciously he took her + spiritually for granted. It was materially that she was a wonder of the + sort that is at the same time familiar and sacred. + </p> + <p> + “No,” Mrs. Travers began again, abruptly. “I never forgot myself in a + story. It was not in me. I have not even been able to forget myself on + that morning on shore which was part of my own story.” + </p> + <p> + “You carried yourself first rate,” said Lingard, smiling at the nape of + her neck, her ear, the film of escaped hair, the modelling of the corner + of her eye. He could see the flutter of the dark eyelashes: and the + delicate flush on her cheek had rather the effect of scent than of colour. + </p> + <p> + “You approved of my behaviour.” + </p> + <p> + “Just right, I tell you. My word, weren't they all struck of a heap when + they made out what you were.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to feel flattered. I will confess to you that I felt only half + disguised and was half angry and wholly uncomfortable. What helped me, I + suppose, was that I wanted to please. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean to say that they were exactly pleased,” broke in Lingard, + conscientiously. “They were startled more.” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to please you,” dropped Mrs. Travers, negligently. A faint, + hoarse, and impatient call of a bird was heard from the woods as if + calling to the oncoming night. Lingard's face grew hot in the deepening + dusk. The delicate lemon yellow and ethereal green tints had vanished from + the sky and the red glow darkened menacingly. The sun had set behind the + black pall of the forest, no longer edged with a line of gold. “Yes, I was + absurdly self-conscious,” continued Mrs. Travers in a conversational tone. + “And it was the effect of these clothes that you made me put on over some + of my European—I almost said disguise; because you know in the + present more perfect costume I feel curiously at home; and yet I can't say + that these things really fit me. The sleeves of this silk under-jacket are + rather tight. My shoulders feel bound, too, and as to the sarong it is + scandalously short. According to rule it should have been long enough to + fall over my feet. But I like freedom of movement. I have had very little + of what I liked in life.” + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly believe that,” said Lingard. “If it wasn't for your saying + so. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't say so to everybody,” she said, turning her head for a moment + to Lingard and turning it away again to the dusk which seemed to come + floating over the black lagoon. Far away in its depth a couple of feeble + lights twinkled; it was impossible to say whether on the shore or on the + edge of the more distant forest. Overhead the stars were beginning to come + out, but faint yet, as if too remote to be reflected in the lagoon. Only + to the west a setting planet shone through the red fog of the sunset glow. + “It was supposed not to be good for me to have much freedom of action. So + at least I was told. But I have a suspicion that it was only unpleasing to + other people.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have thought,” began Lingard, then hesitated and stopped. It + seemed to him inconceivable that everybody should not have loved to make + that woman happy. And he was impressed by the bitterness of her tone. Mrs. + Travers did not seem curious to know what he wanted to say and after a + time she added, “I don't mean only when I was a child. I don't remember + that very well. I daresay I was very objectionable as a child.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard tried to imagine her as a child. The idea was novel to him. Her + perfection seemed to have come into the world complete, mature, and + without any hesitation or weakness. He had nothing in his experience that + could help him to imagine a child of that class. The children he knew + played about the village street and ran on the beach. He had been one of + them. He had seen other children, of course, since, but he had not been in + touch with them except visually and they had not been English children. + Her childhood, like his own, had been passed in England, and that very + fact made it almost impossible for him to imagine it. He could not even + tell whether it was in town or in the country, or whether as a child she + had even seen the sea. And how could a child of that kind be + objectionable? But he remembered that a child disapproved of could be very + unhappy, and he said: + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers laughed a little. Within the muslin cage forms had turned to + blurred shadows. Amongst them the form of d'Alcacer arose and moved. The + systematic or else the morbid dumbness of Mr. Travers bored and + exasperated him, though, as a matter of fact, that gentleman's speeches + had never had the power either to entertain or to soothe his mind. + </p> + <p> + “It's very nice of you. You have a great capacity for sympathy, but after + all I am not certain on which side your sympathies lie. With me, or those + much-tried people,” said Mrs. Travers. + </p> + <p> + “With the child,” said Lingard, disregarding the bantering tone. “A child + can have a very bad time of it all to itself.” + </p> + <p> + “What can you know of it?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have my own feelings,” he answered in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers, with her back to him, was covered with confusion. Neither + could she depict to herself his childhood as if he, too, had come into the + world in the fullness of his strength and his purpose. She discovered a + certain naiveness in herself and laughed a little. He made no sound. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be angry,” she said. “I wouldn't dream of laughing at your + feelings. Indeed your feelings are the most serious thing that ever came + in my way. I couldn't help laughing at myself—at a funny discovery I + made.” + </p> + <p> + “In the days of your childhood?” she heard Lingard's deep voice asking + after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. Ages afterward. No child could have made that discovery. Do you + know the greatest difference there is between us? It is this: That I have + been living since my childhood in front of a show and that I never have + been taken in for a moment by its tinsel and its noise or by anything that + went on on the stage. Do you understand what I mean, Captain Lingard?” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment of silence. “What does it matter? We are no children + now.” There was an infinite gentleness in Lingard's deep tones. “But if + you have been unhappy then don't tell me that it has not been made up to + you since. Surely you have only to make a sign. A woman like you.” + </p> + <p> + “You think I could frighten the whole world on to its knees?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not frighten.” The suggestion of a laugh in the deadened voice passed + off in a catch of the breath. Then he was heard beginning soberly: “Your + husband. . . .” He hesitated a little and she took the opportunity to say + coldly: + </p> + <p> + “His name is Mr. Travers.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard didn't know how to take it. He imagined himself to have been + guilty of some sort of presumption. But how on earth was he to call the + man? After all he was her husband. That idea was disagreeable to him + because the man was also inimical in a particularly unreasonable and + galling manner. At the same time he was aware that he didn't care a bit + for his enmity and had an idea that he would not have cared for his + friendship either. And suddenly he felt very much annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. That's the man I mean,” he said in a contemptuous tone. “I don't + particularly like the name and I am sure I don't want to talk about him + more than I can help. If he hadn't been your husband I wouldn't have put + up with his manners for an hour. Do you know what would have happened to + him if he hadn't been your husband?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mrs. Travers. “Do you, Captain Lingard?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly,” he admitted. “Something he wouldn't have liked, you may be + sure.” + </p> + <p> + “While of course he likes this very much,” she observed. Lingard gave an + abrupt laugh. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think it's in my power to do anything that he would like,” he + said in a serious tone. “Forgive me my frankness, Mrs. Travers, but he + makes it very difficult sometimes for me to keep civil. Whatever I have + had to put up with in life I have never had to put up with contempt.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite believe that,” said Mrs. Travers. “Don't your friends call you + King Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody that I care for. I have no friends. Oh, yes, they call me that . . + .” + </p> + <p> + “You have no friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I,” he said with decision. “A man like me has no chums.” + </p> + <p> + “It's quite possible,” murmured Mrs. Travers to herself. + </p> + <p> + “No, not even Jorgenson. Old crazy Jorgenson. He calls me King Tom, too. + You see what that's worth.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see. Or rather I have heard. That poor man has no tone, and so + much depends on that. Now suppose I were to call you King Tom now and then + between ourselves,” Mrs. Travers' voice proposed, distantly tentative in + the night that invested her person with a colourless vagueness of form. + </p> + <p> + She waited in the stillness, her elbows on the rail and her face in her + hands as if she had already forgotten what she had said. She heard at her + elbow the deep murmur of: + </p> + <p> + “Let's hear you say it.” + </p> + <p> + She never moved the least bit. The sombre lagoon sparkled faintly with the + reflection of the stars. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I will let you hear it,” she said into the starlit space in a + voice of unaccented gentleness which changed subtly as she went on. “I + hope you will never regret that you came out of your friendless mystery to + speak to me, King Tom. How many days ago it was! And here is another day + gone. Tell me how many more of them there must be? Of these blinding days + and nights without a sound.” + </p> + <p> + “Be patient,” he murmured. “Don't ask me for the impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you or I know what is possible?” she whispered with a strange + scorn. “You wouldn't dare guess. But I tell you that every day that passes + is more impossible to me than the day before.” + </p> + <p> + The passion of that whisper went like a stab into his breast. “What am I + to tell you?” he murmured, as if with despair. “Remember that every sunset + makes it a day less. Do you think I want you here?” + </p> + <p> + A bitter little laugh floated out into the starlight. Mrs. Travers heard + Lingard move suddenly away from her side. She didn't change her pose by a + hair's breadth. Presently she heard d'Alcacer coming out of the Cage. His + cultivated voice asked half playfully: + </p> + <p> + “Have you had a satisfactory conversation? May I be told something of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. d'Alcacer, you are curious.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in our position, I confess. . . . You are our only refuge, + remember.” + </p> + <p> + “You want to know what we were talking about,” said Mrs. Travers, altering + slowly her position so as to confront d'Alcacer whose face was almost + undistinguishable. “Oh, well, then, we talked about opera, the realities + and illusions of the stage, of dresses, of people's names, and things of + that sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of importance,” he said courteously. Mrs. Travers moved forward + and he stepped to one side. Inside the Cage two Malay hands were hanging + round lanterns, the light of which fell on Mr. Travers' bowed head as he + sat in his chair. + </p> + <p> + When they were all assembled for the evening meal Jorgenson strolled up + from nowhere in particular as his habit was, and speaking through the + muslin announced that Captain Lingard begged to be excused from joining + the company that evening. Then he strolled away. From that moment till + they got up from the table and the camp bedsteads were brought in not + twenty words passed between the members of the party within the net. The + strangeness of their situation made all attempts to exchange ideas very + arduous; and apart from that each had thoughts which it was distinctly + useless to communicate to the others. Mr. Travers had abandoned himself to + his sense of injury. He did not so much brood as rage inwardly in a dull, + dispirited way. The impossibility of asserting himself in any manner + galled his very soul. D'Alcacer was extremely puzzled. Detached in a sense + from the life of men perhaps as much even as Jorgenson himself, he took + yet a reasonable interest in the course of events and had not lost all his + sense of self-preservation. Without being able to appreciate the exact + values of the situation he was not one of those men who are ever + completely in the dark in any given set of circumstances. Without being + humorous he was a good-humoured man. His habitual, gentle smile was a true + expression. More of a European than of a Spaniard he had that truly + aristocratic nature which is inclined to credit every honest man with + something of its own nobility and in its judgment is altogether + independent of class feeling. He believed Lingard to be an honest man and + he never troubled his head to classify him, except in the sense that he + found him an interesting character. He had a sort of esteem for the + outward personality and the bearing of that seaman. He found in him also + the distinction of being nothing of a type. He was a specimen to be judged + only by its own worth. With his natural gift of insight d'Alcacer told + himself that many overseas adventurers of history were probably less + worthy because obviously they must have been less simple. He didn't, + however, impart those thoughts formally to Mrs. Travers. In fact he + avoided discussing Lingard with Mrs. Travers who, he thought, was quite + intelligent enough to appreciate the exact shade of his attitude. If that + shade was fine, Mrs. Travers was fine, too; and there was no need to + discuss the colours of this adventure. Moreover, she herself seemed to + avoid all direct discussion of the Lingard element in their fate. + D'Alcacer was fine enough to be aware that those two seemed to understand + each other in a way that was not obvious even to themselves. Whenever he + saw them together he was always much tempted to observe them. And he + yielded to the temptation. The fact of one's life depending on the phases + of an obscure action authorizes a certain latitude of behaviour. He had + seen them together repeatedly, communing openly or apart, and there was in + their way of joining each other, in their poses and their ways of + separating, something special and characteristic and pertaining to + themselves only, as if they had been made for each other. + </p> + <p> + What he couldn't understand was why Mrs. Travers should have put off his + natural curiosity as to her latest conference with the Man of Fate by an + incredible statement as to the nature of the conversation. Talk about + dresses, opera, people's names. He couldn't take this seriously. She might + have invented, he thought, something more plausible; or simply have told + him that this was not for him to know. She ought to have known that he + would not have been offended. Couldn't she have seen already that he + accepted the complexion of mystery in her relation to that man completely, + unquestionably; as though it had been something preordained from the very + beginning of things? But he was not annoyed with Mrs. Travers. After all + it might have been true. She would talk exactly as she liked, and even + incredibly, if it so pleased her, and make the man hang on her lips. And + likewise she was capable of making the man talk about anything by a power + of inspiration for reasons simple or perverse. Opera! Dresses! Yes—about + Shakespeare and the musical glasses! For a mere whim or for the deepest + purpose. Women worthy of the name were like that. They were very + wonderful. They rose to the occasion and sometimes above the occasion when + things were bound to occur that would be comic or tragic (as it happened) + but generally charged with trouble even to innocent beholders. D'Alcacer + thought these thoughts without bitterness and even without irony. With his + half-secret social reputation as a man of one great passion in a world of + mere intrigues he liked all women. He liked them in their sentiment and in + their hardness, in the tragic character of their foolish or clever + impulses, at which he looked with a sort of tender seriousness. + </p> + <p> + He didn't take a favourable view of the position but he considered Mrs. + Travers' statement about operas and dresses as a warning to keep off the + subject. For this reason he remained silent through the meal. + </p> + <p> + When the bustle of clearing away the table was over he strolled toward + Mrs. Travers and remarked very quietly: + </p> + <p> + “I think that in keeping away from us this evening the Man of Fate was + well inspired. We dined like a lot of Carthusian monks.” + </p> + <p> + “You allude to our silence?” + </p> + <p> + “It was most scrupulous. If we had taken an eternal vow we couldn't have + kept it better.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you feel bored?” + </p> + <p> + “Pas du tout,” d'Alcacer assured her with whimsical gravity. “I felt + nothing. I sat in a state of blessed vacuity. I believe I was the happiest + of us three. Unless you, too, Mrs. Travers. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “It's absolutely no use your fishing for my thoughts, Mr. d'Alcacer. If I + were to let you see them you would be appalled.” + </p> + <p> + “Thoughts really are but a shape of feelings. Let me congratulate you on + the impassive mask you can put on those horrors you say you nurse in your + breast. It was impossible to tell anything by your face.” + </p> + <p> + “You will always say flattering things.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, my flatteries come from the very bottom of my heart. I have given + up long ago all desire to please. And I was not trying to get at your + thoughts. Whatever else you may expect from me you may count on my + absolute respect for your privacy. But I suppose with a mask such as you + can make for yourself you really don't care. The Man of Fate, I noticed, + is not nearly as good at it as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “What a pretentious name. Do you call him by it to his face, Mr. + d'Alcacer?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven't the cheek,” confessed d'Alcacer, equably. “And, besides, + it's too momentous for daily use. And he is so simple that he might + mistake it for a joke and nothing could be further from my thoughts. Mrs. + Travers, I will confess to you that I don't feel jocular in the least. But + what can he know about people of our sort? And when I reflect how little + people of our sort can know of such a man I am quite content to address + him as Captain Lingard. It's common and soothing and most respectable and + satisfactory; for Captain is the most empty of all titles. What is a + Captain? Anybody can be a Captain; and for Lingard it's a name like any + other. Whereas what he deserves is something special, significant, and + expressive, that would match his person, his simple and romantic person.” + </p> + <p> + He perceived that Mrs. Travers was looking at him intently. They hastened + to turn their eyes away from each other. + </p> + <p> + “He would like your appreciation,” Mrs. Travers let drop negligently. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid he would despise it.” + </p> + <p> + “Despise it! Why, that sort of thing is the very breath of his nostrils.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to understand him, Mrs. Travers. Women have a singular capacity + for understanding. I mean subjects that interest them; because when their + imagination is stimulated they are not afraid of letting it go. A man is + more mistrustful of himself, but women are born much more reckless. They + push on and on under the protection of secrecy and silence, and the + greater the obscurity of what they wish to explore the greater their + courage.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean seriously to tell me that you consider me a creature of + darkness?” + </p> + <p> + “I spoke in general,” remonstrated d'Alcacer. “Anything else would have + been an impertinence. Yes, obscurity is women's best friend. Their daring + loves it; but a sudden flash of light disconcerts them. Generally + speaking, if they don't get exactly at the truth they always manage to + come pretty near to it.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers had listened with silent attention and she allowed the + silence to continue for some time after d'Alcacer had ceased. When she + spoke it was to say in an unconcerned tone that as to this subject she had + had special opportunities. Her self-possessed interlocutor managed to + repress a movement of real curiosity under an assumption of conventional + interest. “Indeed,” he exclaimed, politely. “A special opportunity. How + did you manage to create it?” + </p> + <p> + This was too much for Mrs. Travers. “I! Create it!” she exclaimed, + indignantly, but under her breath. “How on earth do you think I could have + done it?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. d'Alcacer, as if communing with himself, was heard to murmur + unrepentantly that indeed women seldom knew how they had “done it,” to + which Mrs. Travers in a weary tone returned the remark that no two men + were dense in the same way. To this Mr. d'Alcacer assented without + difficulty. “Yes, our brand presents more varieties. This, from a certain + point of view, is obviously to our advantage. We interest. . . . Not that + I imagine myself interesting to you, Mrs. Travers. But what about the Man + of Fate?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” breathed out Mrs. Travers. + </p> + <p> + “I see! Immensely!” said d'Alcacer in a tone of mysterious understanding. + “Was his stupidity so colossal?” + </p> + <p> + “It was indistinguishable from great visions that were in no sense mean + and made up for him a world of his own.” + </p> + <p> + “I guessed that much,” muttered d'Alcacer to himself. “But that, you know, + Mrs. Travers, that isn't good news at all to me. World of dreams, eh? + That's very bad, very dangerous. It's almost fatal, Mrs. Travers.” + </p> + <p> + “Why all this dismay? Why do you object to a world of dreams?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I dislike the prospect of being made a sacrifice of by those + Moors. I am not an optimist like our friend there,” he continued in a low + tone nodding toward the dismal figure of Mr. Travers huddled up in the + chair. “I don't regard all this as a farce and I have discovered in myself + a strong objection to having my throat cut by those gorgeous barbarians + after a lot of fatuous talk. Don't ask me why, Mrs. Travers. Put it down + to an absurd weakness.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers made a slight movement in her chair, raising her hands to her + head, and in the dim light of the lanterns d'Alcacer saw the mass of her + clear gleaming hair fall down and spread itself over her shoulders. She + seized half of it in her hands which looked very white, and with her head + inclined a little on one side she began to make a plait. + </p> + <p> + “You are terrifying,” he said after watching the movement of her fingers + for a while. + </p> + <p> + “Yes . . . ?” she accentuated interrogatively. + </p> + <p> + “You have the awfulness of the predestined. You, too, are the prey of + dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “Not of the Moors, then,” she uttered, calmly, beginning the other plait. + D'Alcacer followed the operation to the end. Close against her, her + diaphanous shadow on the muslin reproduced her slightest movements. + D'Alcacer turned his eyes away. + </p> + <p> + “No! No barbarian shall touch you. Because if it comes to that I believe + <i>he</i> would be capable of killing you himself.” + </p> + <p> + A minute elapsed before he stole a glance in her direction. She was + leaning back again, her hands had fallen on her lap and her head with a + plait of hair on each side of her face, her head incredibly changed in + character and suggesting something medieval, ascetic, drooped dreamily on + her breast. + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer waited, holding his breath. She didn't move. In the dim gleam of + jewelled clasps, the faint sheen of gold embroideries and the shimmer of + silks, she was like a figure in a faded painting. Only her neck appeared + dazzlingly white in the smoky redness of the light. D'Alcacer's wonder + approached a feeling of awe. He was on the point of moving away quietly + when Mrs. Travers, without stirring in the least, let him hear the words: + </p> + <p> + “I have told him that every day seemed more difficult to live. Don't you + see how impossible this is?” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer glanced rapidly across the Cage where Mr. Travers seemed to be + asleep all in a heap and presenting a ruffled appearance like a sick bird. + Nothing was distinct of him but the bald patch on the top of his head. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he murmured, “it is most unfortunate. . . . I understand your + anxiety, Mrs. Travers, but . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I am frightened,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He reflected a moment. “What answer did you get?” he asked, softly. + </p> + <p> + “The answer was: 'Patience.'” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer laughed a little.—“You may well laugh,” murmured Mrs. + Travers in a tone of anguish.—“That's why I did,” he whispered. + “Patience! Didn't he see the horror of it?”—“I don't know. He walked + away,” said Mrs. Travers. She looked immovably at her hands clasped in her + lap, and then with a burst of distress, “Mr. d'Alcacer, what is going to + happen?”—“Ah, you are asking yourself the question at last. <i>That</i> + will happen which cannot be avoided; and perhaps you know best what it + is.”—“No. I am still asking myself what he will do.”—“Ah, that + is not for me to know,” declared d'Alcacer. “I can't tell you what he will + do, but I know what will happen to him.”—“To him, you say! To him!” + she cried.—“He will break his heart,” said d'Alcacer, distinctly, + bending a little over the chair with a slight gasp at his own audacity—and + waited. + </p> + <p> + “Croyez-vous?” came at last from Mrs. Travers in an accent so coldly + languid that d'Alcacer felt a shudder run down his spine. + </p> + <p> + Was it possible that she was that kind of woman, he asked himself. Did she + see nothing in the world outside herself? Was she above the commonest kind + of compassion? He couldn't suspect Mrs. Travers of stupidity; but she + might have been heartless and, like some women of her class, quite unable + to recognize any emotion in the world except her own. D'Alcacer was + shocked and at the same time he was relieved because he confessed to + himself that he had ventured very far. However, in her humanity she was + not vulgar enough to be offended. She was not the slave of small + meannesses. This thought pleased d'Alcacer who had schooled himself not to + expect too much from people. But he didn't know what to do next. After + what he had ventured to say and after the manner in which she had met his + audacity the only thing to do was to change the conversation. Mrs. Travers + remained perfectly still. “I will pretend that I think she is asleep,” he + thought to himself, meditating a retreat on tip-toe. + </p> + <p> + He didn't know that Mrs. Travers was simply trying to recover the full + command of her faculties. His words had given her a terrible shock. After + managing to utter this defensive “croyez-vous” which came out of her lips + cold and faint as if in a last effort of dying strength, she felt herself + turn rigid and speechless. She was thinking, stiff all over with emotion: + “D'Alcacer has seen it! How much more has he been able to see?” She didn't + ask herself that question in fear or shame but with a reckless + resignation. Out of that shock came a sensation of peace. A glowing warmth + passed through all her limbs. If d'Alcacer had peered by that smoky light + into her face he might have seen on her lips a fatalistic smile come and + go. But d'Alcacer would not have dreamed of doing such a thing, and, + besides, his attention just then was drawn in another direction. He had + heard subdued exclamations, had noticed a stir on the decks of the Emma, + and even some sort of noise outside the ship. + </p> + <p> + “These are strange sounds,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I hear,” Mrs. Travers murmured, uneasily. + </p> + <p> + Vague shapes glided outside the Cage, barefooted, almost noiseless, + whispering Malay words secretly. + </p> + <p> + “It seems as though a boat had come alongside,” observed d'Alcacer, + lending an attentive ear. “I wonder what it means. In our position. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “It may mean anything,” interrupted Mrs. Travers. + </p> + <p> + “Jaffir is here,” said a voice in the darkness of the after end of the + ship. Then there were some more words in which d'Alcacer's attentive ear + caught the word “surat.” + </p> + <p> + “A message of some sort has come,” he said. “They will be calling Captain + Lingard. I wonder what thoughts or what dreams this call will interrupt.” + He spoke lightly, looking now at Mrs. Travers who had altered her position + in the chair; and by their tones and attitudes these two might have been + on board the yacht sailing the sea in perfect safety. “You, of course, are + the one who will be told. Don't you feel a sort of excitement, Mrs. + Travers?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been lately exhorted to patience,” she said in the same easy tone. + “I can wait and I imagine I shall have to wait till the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “It can't be very late yet,” he said. “Time with us has been standing + still for ever so long. And yet this may be the hour of fate.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this the feeling you have at this particular moment?” + </p> + <p> + “I have had that feeling for a considerable number of moments already. At + first it was exciting. Now I am only moderately anxious. I have employed + my time in going over all my past life.” + </p> + <p> + “Can one really do that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I can't say I have been bored to extinction. I am still alive, as + you see; but I have done with that and I feel extremely idle. There is + only one thing I would like to do. I want to find a few words that could + convey to you my gratitude for all your friendliness in the past, at the + time when you let me see so much of you in London. I felt always that you + took me on my own terms and that so kindly that often I felt inclined to + think better of myself. But I am afraid I am wearying you, Mrs. Travers.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you you have never done that—in the past. And as to the + present moment I beg you not to go away. Stay by me please. We are not + going to pretend that we are sleepy at this early hour.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer brought a stool close to the long chair and sat down on it. “Oh, + yes, the possible hour of fate,” he said. “I have a request to make, Mrs. + Travers. I don't ask you to betray anything. What would be the good? The + issue when it comes will be plain enough. But I should like to get a + warning, just something that would give me time to pull myself together, + to compose myself as it were. I want you to promise me that if the balance + tips against us you will give me a sign. You could, for instance, seize + the opportunity when I am looking at you to put your left hand to your + forehead like this. It is a gesture that I have never seen you make, and + so. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Jorgenson!” Lingard's voice was heard forward where the light of a + lantern appeared suddenly. Then, after a pause, Lingard was heard again: + “Here!” + </p> + <p> + Then the silent minutes began to go by. Mrs. Travers reclining in her + chair and d'Alcacer sitting on the stool waited motionless without a word. + Presently through the subdued murmurs and agitation pervading the dark + deck of the Emma Mrs. Travers heard a firm footstep, and, lantern in hand, + Lingard appeared outside the muslin cage. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come out and speak to me?” he said, loudly. “Not you. The lady,” + he added in an authoritative tone as d'Alcacer rose hastily from the + stool. “I want Mrs. Travers.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” muttered d'Alcacer to himself and as he opened the door of + the Cage to let Mrs. Travers slip through he whispered to her, “This is + the hour of fate.” + </p> + <p> + She brushed past him swiftly without the slightest sign that she had heard + the words. On the after deck between the Cage and the deckhouse Lingard + waited, lantern in hand. Nobody else was visible about; but d'Alcacer felt + in the air the presence of silent and excited beings hovering outside the + circle of light. Lingard raised the lantern as Mrs. Travers approached and + d'Alcacer heard him say: + </p> + <p> + “I have had news which you ought to know. Let us go into the deckhouse.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer saw their heads lighted up by the raised lantern surrounded by + the depths of shadow with an effect of a marvellous and symbolic vision. + He heard Mrs. Travers say “I would rather not hear your news,” in a tone + that made that sensitive observer purse up his lips in wonder. He thought + that she was over-wrought, that the situation had grown too much for her + nerves. But this was not the tone of a frightened person. It flashed + through his mind that she had become self-conscious, and there he stopped + in his speculation. That friend of women remained discreet even in his + thoughts. He stepped backward further into the Cage and without surprise + saw Mrs. Travers follow Lingard into the deckhouse. + </p> + <p> + IV + </p> + <p> + Lingard stood the lantern on the table. Its light was very poor. He + dropped on to the sea-chest heavily. He, too, was over-wrought. His + flannel shirt was open at the neck. He had a broad belt round his waist + and was without his jacket. Before him, Mrs. Travers, straight and tall in + the gay silks, cottons, and muslins of her outlandish dress, with the ends + of the scarf thrown over her head, hanging down in front of her, looked + dimly splendid and with a black glance out of her white face. He said: + </p> + <p> + “Do you, too, want to throw me over? I tell you you can't do that now.” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't thinking of throwing you over, but I don't even know what you + mean. There seem to be no end of things I can't do. Hadn't you better tell + me of something that I could do? Have you any idea yourself what you want + from me?” + </p> + <p> + “You can let me look at you. You can listen to me. You can speak to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Frankly, I have never shirked doing all those things, whenever you wanted + me to. You have led me . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I led you!” cried Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! It was my fault,” she said, without anger. “I must have dreamed then + that it was you who came to me in the dark with the tale of your + impossible life. Could I have sent you away?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you had. Why didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me to tell you that you were irresistible? How could I have + sent you away? But you! What made you come back to me with your very heart + on your lips?” + </p> + <p> + When Lingard spoke after a time it was in jerky sentences. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't stop to think. I had been hurt. I didn't think of you people as + ladies and gentlemen. I thought of you as people whose lives I held in my + hand. How was it possible to forget you in my trouble? It is your face + that I brought back with me on board my brig. I don't know why. I didn't + look at you more than at anybody else. It took me all my time to keep my + temper down lest it should burn you all up. I didn't want to be rude to + you people, but I found it wasn't very easy because threats were the only + argument I had. Was I very offensive, Mrs. Travers?” + </p> + <p> + She had listened tense and very attentive, almost stern. And it was + without the slightest change of expression that she said: + </p> + <p> + “I think that you bore yourself appropriately to the state of life to + which it has pleased God to call you.” + </p> + <p> + “What state?” muttered Lingard to himself. “I am what I am. They call me + Rajah Laut, King Tom, and such like. I think it amused you to hear it, but + I can tell you it is no joke to have such names fastened on one, even in + fun. And those very names have in them something which makes all this + affair here no small matter to anybody.” + </p> + <p> + She stood before him with a set, severe face.—“Did you call me out + in this alarming manner only to quarrel with me?”—“No, but why do + you choose this time to tell me that my coming for help to you was nothing + but impudence in your sight? Well, I beg your pardon for intruding on your + dignity.”—“You misunderstood me,” said Mrs. Travers, without + relaxing for a moment her contemplative severity. “Such a flattering thing + had never happened to me before and it will never happen to me again. But + believe me, King Tom, you did me too much honour. Jorgenson is perfectly + right in being angry with you for having taken a woman in tow.”—“He + didn't mean to be rude,” protested Lingard, earnestly. Mrs. Travers didn't + even smile at this intrusion of a point of manners into the atmosphere of + anguish and suspense that seemed always to arise between her and this man + who, sitting on the sea-chest, had raised his eyes to her with an air of + extreme candour and seemed unable to take them off again. She continued to + look at him sternly by a tremendous effort of will. + </p> + <p> + “How changed you are,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + He was lost in the depths of the simplest wonder. She appeared to him + vengeful and as if turned forever into stone before his bewildered + remorse. Forever. Suddenly Mrs. Travers looked round and sat down in the + chair. Her strength failed her but she remained austere with her hands + resting on the arms of her seat. Lingard sighed deeply and dropped his + eyes. She did not dare relax her muscles for fear of breaking down + altogether and betraying a reckless impulse which lurked at the bottom of + her dismay, to seize the head of d'Alcacer's Man of Fate, press it to her + breast once, fling it far away, and vanish herself, vanish out of life + like a wraith. The Man of Fate sat silent and bowed, yet with a suggestion + of strength in his dejection. “If I don't speak,” Mrs. Travers said to + herself, with great inward calmness, “I shall burst into tears.” She said + aloud, “What could have happened? What have you dragged me in here for? + Why don't you tell me your news?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you didn't want to hear. I believe you really don't want to. + What is all this to you? I believe that you don't care anything about what + I feel, about what I do and how I end. I verily believe that you don't + care how you end yourself. I believe you never cared for your own or + anybody's feelings. I don't think it is because you are hard, I think it + is because you don't know, and don't want to know, and are angry with + life.” + </p> + <p> + He flourished an arm recklessly, and Mrs. Travers noticed for the first + time that he held a sheet of paper in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Is that your news there?” she asked, significantly. “It's difficult to + imagine that in this wilderness writing can have any significance. And who + on earth here could send you news on paper? Will you let me see it? Could + I understand it? Is it in English? Come, King Tom, don't look at me in + this awful way.” + </p> + <p> + She got up suddenly, not in indignation, but as if at the end of her + endurance. The jewelled clasps, the gold embroideries, gleamed elusively + amongst the folds of her draperies which emitted a mysterious rustle. + </p> + <p> + “I can't stand this,” she cried. “I can't stand being looked at like this. + No woman could stand it. No woman has ever been looked at like this. What + can you see? Hatred I could understand. What is it you think me capable + of?” + </p> + <p> + “You are very extraordinary,” murmured Lingard, who had regained his + self-possession before that outburst. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, and you are extraordinary, too. That's understood—here + we are both under that curse and having to face together whatever may turn + up. But who on earth could have sent you this writing?” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” repeated Lingard. “Why, that young fellow that blundered on my brig + in the dark, bringing a boatload of trouble alongside on that quiet night + in Carimata Straits. The darkest night I have ever known. An accursed + night.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers bit her lip, waited a little, then asked quietly: + </p> + <p> + “What difficulty has he got into now?” + </p> + <p> + “Difficulty!” cried Lingard. “He is immensely pleased with himself, the + young fool. You know, when you sent him to talk to me that evening you + left the yacht, he came with a loaded pistol in his pocket. And now he has + gone and done it.” + </p> + <p> + “Done it?” repeated Mrs. Travers blankly. “Done what?” + </p> + <p> + She snatched from Lingard's unresisting palm the sheet of paper. While she + was smoothing it Lingard moved round and stood close at her elbow. She ran + quickly over the first lines, then her eyes steadied. At the end she drew + a quick breath and looked up at Lingard. Their faces had never been so + close together before and Mrs. Travers had a surprising second of a + perfectly new sensation. She looked away.—“Do you understand what + this news means?” he murmured. Mrs. Travers let her hand fall by her side. + “Yes,” she said in a low tone. “The compact is broken.” + </p> + <p> + Carter had begun his letter without any preliminaries: + </p> + <p> + You cleared out in the middle of the night and took the lady away with + you. You left me no proper orders. But as a sailorman I looked upon myself + as left in charge of two ships while within half a mile on that sandbank + there were more than a hundred piratical cut-throats watching me as + closely as so many tigers about to leap. Days went by without a word of + you or the lady. To leave the ships outside and go inland to look for you + was not to be thought of with all those pirates within springing distance. + Put yourself in my place. Can't you imagine my anxiety, my sleepless + nights? Each night worse than the night before. And still no word from + you. I couldn't sit still and worry my head off about things I couldn't + understand. I am a sailorman. My first duty was to the ships. I had to put + an end to this impossible situation and I hope you will agree that I have + done it in a seamanlike way. One misty morning I moved the brig nearer the + sandbank and directly the mist cleared I opened fire on the praus of those + savages which were anchored in the channel. We aimed wide at first to give + those vagabonds that were on board a chance to clear out and join their + friends camped on the sands. I didn't want to kill people. Then we got the + long gun to bear and in about an hour we had the bottom knocked out of the + two praus. The savages on the bank howled and screamed at every shot. They + are mighty angry but I don't care for their anger now, for by sinking + their praus I have made them as harmless as a flock of lambs. They needn't + starve on their sandbank because they have two or three dugouts hauled up + on the sand and they may ferry themselves and their women to the mainland + whenever they like. + </p> + <p> + I fancy I have acted as a seaman and as a seaman I intend to go on acting. + Now I have made the ships safe I shall set about without loss of time + trying to get the yacht off the mud. When that's done I shall arm the + boats and proceed inshore to look for you and the yacht's gentry, and + shan't rest till I know whether any or all of you are above the earth yet. + </p> + <p> + I hope these words will reach you. Just as we had done the business of + those praus the man you sent off that night in Carimata to stop our chief + officer came sailing in from the west with our first gig in tow and the + boat's crew all well. Your serang tells me he is a most trustworthy + messenger and that his name is Jaffir. He seems only too anxious to try to + get to you as soon as possible. I repeat, ships and men have been made + safe and I don't mean to give you up dead or alive. + </p> + <p> + “You are quick in taking the point,” said Lingard in a dull voice, while + Mrs. Travers, with the sheet of paper gripped in her hand, looked into his + face with anxious eyes. “He has been smart and no mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't know,” murmured Mrs. Travers. + </p> + <p> + “No, he didn't know. But could I take everybody into my confidence?” + protested Lingard in the same low tone. “And yet who else could I trust? + It seemed to me that he must have understood without being told. But he is + too young. He may well be proud according to his lights. He has done that + job outside very smartly—damn his smartness! And here we are with + all our lives depending on my word—which is broken now, Mrs. + Travers. It is broken.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers nodded at him slightly. + </p> + <p> + “They would sooner have expected to see the sun and the moon fall out of + the sky,” Lingard continued with repressed fire. Next moment it seemed to + have gone out of him and Mrs. Travers heard him mutter a disconnected + phrase. . . . “The world down about my ears.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you do?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “What will I do?” repeated Lingard, gently. “Oh, yes—do. Mrs. + Travers, do you see that I am nothing now? Just nothing.” + </p> + <p> + He had lost himself in the contemplation of her face turned to him with an + expression of awed curiosity. The shock of the world coming down about his + ears in consequence of Carter's smartness was so terrific that it had + dulled his sensibilities in the manner of a great pain or of a great + catastrophe. What was there to look at but that woman's face, in a world + which had lost its consistency, its shape, and its promises in a moment? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers looked away. She understood that she had put to Lingard an + impossible question. What was presenting itself to her as a problem was to + that man a crisis of feeling. Obviously Carter's action had broken the + compact entered into with Daman, and she was intelligent enough to + understand that it was the sort of thing that could not be explained away. + It wasn't horror that she felt, but a sort of consternation, something + like the discomfiture of people who have just missed their train. It was + only more intense. The real dismay had yet to make its way into her + comprehension. To Lingard it was a blow struck straight at his heart. + </p> + <p> + He was not angry with Carter. The fellow had acted like a seaman. Carter's + concern was for the ships. In this fatality Carter was a mere incident. + The real cause of the disaster was somewhere else, was other, and more + remote. And at the same time Lingard could not defend himself from a + feeling that it was in himself, too, somewhere in the unexplored depths of + his nature, something fatal and unavoidable. He muttered to himself: + </p> + <p> + “No. I am not a lucky man.” + </p> + <p> + This was but a feeble expression of the discovery of the truth that + suddenly had come home to him as if driven into his breast by a revealing + power which had decided that this was to be the end of his fling. But he + was not the man to give himself up to the examination of his own + sensations. His natural impulse was to grapple with the circumstances and + that was what he was trying to do; but he missed now that sense of mastery + which is half the battle. Conflict of some sort was the very essence of + his life. But this was something he had never known before. This was a + conflict within himself. He had to face unsuspected powers, foes that he + could not go out to meet at the gate. They were within, as though he had + been betrayed by somebody, by some secret enemy. He was ready to look + round for that subtle traitor. A sort of blankness fell on his mind and he + suddenly thought: “Why! It's myself.” + </p> + <p> + Immediately afterward he had a clear, merciless recollection of Hassim and + Immada. He saw them far off beyond the forests. Oh, yes, they existed—within + his breast! + </p> + <p> + “That was a night!” he muttered, looking straight at Mrs. Travers. He had + been looking at her all the time. His glance had held her under a spell, + but for a whole interminable minute he had not been aware of her at all. + At the murmur of his words she made a slight movement and he saw her + again.—“What night?” she whispered, timidly, like an intruder. She + was astonished to see him smile.—“Not like this one,” he said. “You + made me notice how quiet and still it was. Yes. Listen how still it is.” + </p> + <p> + Both moved their heads slightly and seemed to lend an ear. There was not a + murmur, sigh, rustle, splash, or footfall. No whispers, no tremors, not a + sound of any kind. They might have been alone on board the Emma, abandoned + even by the ghost of Captain Jorgenson departed to rejoin the Barque Wild + Rose on the shore of the Cimmerian sea.—“It's like the stillness of + the end,” said Mrs. Travers in a low, equable voice.—“Yes, but that, + too, is false,” said Lingard in the same tone.—“I don't understand,” + Mrs. Travers began, hurriedly, after a short silence. “But don't use that + word. Don't use it, King Tom! It frightens me by its mere sound.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard made no sign. His thoughts were back with Hassim and Immada. The + young chief and his sister had gone up country on a voluntary mission to + persuade Belarab to return to his stockade and to take up again the + direction of affairs. They carried urgent messages from Lingard, who for + Belarab was the very embodiment of truth and force, that unquestioned + force which had permitted Belarab to indulge in all his melancholy + hesitations. But those two young people had also some personal prestige. + They were Lingard's heart's friends. They were like his children. But + beside that, their high birth, their warlike story, their wanderings, + adventures, and prospects had given them a glamour of their own. + </p> + <p> + V + </p> + <p> + The very day that Travers and d'Alcacer had come on board the Emma Hassim + and Immada had departed on their mission; for Lingard, of course, could + not think of leaving the white people alone with Jorgenson. Jorgenson was + all right, but his ineradicable habit of muttering in his moustache about + “throwing a lighted match amongst the powder barrels” had inspired Lingard + with a certain amount of mistrust. And, moreover, he did not want to go + away from Mrs. Travers. + </p> + <p> + It was the only correct inspiration on Carter's part to send Jaffir with + his report to Lingard. That stout-hearted fighter, swimmer, and devoted + follower of the princely misfortunes of Hassim and Immada, had looked upon + his mission to catch the chief officer of the yacht (which he had received + from Lingard in Carimata) as a trifling job. It took him a little longer + than he expected but he had got back to the brig just in time to be sent + on to Lingard with Carter's letter after a couple of hours' rest. He had + the story of all the happenings from Wasub before he left and though his + face preserved its grave impassivity, in his heart he did not like it at + all. + </p> + <p> + Fearless and wily, Jaffir was the man for difficult missions and a born + messenger—as he expressed it himself—“to bear weighty words + between great men.” With his unfailing memory he was able to reproduce + them exactly, whether soft or hard, in council or in private; for he knew + no fear. With him there was no need for writing which might fall into the + hands of the enemy. If he died on the way the message would die with him. + He had also the gift of getting at the sense of any situation and an + observant eye. He was distinctly one of those men from whom trustworthy + information can be obtained by the leaders of great enterprises. Lingard + did put several questions to him, but in this instance, of course, Jaffir + could have only very little to say. Of Carter, whom he called the “young + one,” he said that he looked as white men look when they are pleased with + themselves; then added without waiting for a definite question—“The + ships out there are now safe enough, O, Rajah Laut!” There was no elation + in his tone. + </p> + <p> + Lingard looked at him blankly. When the Greatest of White Men remarked + that there was yet a price to be paid for that safety, Jaffir assented by + a “Yes, by Allah!” without losing for a moment his grim composure. When + told that he would be required to go and find his master and the lady + Immada who were somewhere in the back country, in Belarab's travelling + camp, he declared himself ready to proceed at once. He had eaten his fill + and had slept three hours on board the brig and he was not tired. When he + was young he used to get tired sometimes; but for many years now he had + known no such weakness. He did not require the boat with paddlers in which + he had come up into the lagoon. He would go alone in a small canoe. This + was no time, he remarked, for publicity and ostentation. His pent-up + anxiety burst through his lips. “It is in my mind, Tuan, that death has + not been so near them since that night when you came sailing in a black + cloud and took us all out of the stockade.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard said nothing but there was in Jaffir a faith in that white man + which was not easily shaken. + </p> + <p> + “How are you going to save them this time, O Rajah Laut?” he asked, + simply. + </p> + <p> + “Belarab is my friend,” murmured Lingard. + </p> + <p> + In his anxiety Jaffir was very outspoken. “A man of peace!” he exclaimed + in a low tone. “Who could be safe with a man like that?” he asked, + contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “There is no war,” said Lingard + </p> + <p> + “There is suspicion, dread, and revenge, and the anger of armed men,” + retorted Jaffir. “You have taken the white prisoners out of their hands by + the force of your words alone. Is that so, Tuan?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “And you have them on board here?” asked Jaffir, with a glance over his + shoulder at the white and misty structure within which by the light of a + small oil flame d'Alcacer and Mrs. Travers were just then conversing. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have them here.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Rajah Laut,” whispered Jaffir, “you can make all safe by giving + them back.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I do that?” were the words breathed out through Lingard's lips to the + faithful follower of Hassim and Immada. + </p> + <p> + “Can you do anything else?” was the whispered retort of Jaffir the + messenger accustomed to speak frankly to the great of the earth. “You are + a white man and you can have only one word. And now I go.” + </p> + <p> + A small, rough dug-out belonging to the Emma had been brought round to the + ladder. A shadowy calash hovering respectfully in the darkness of the deck + had already cleared his throat twice in a warning manner. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Jaffir, go,” said Lingard, “and be my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I am the friend of a great prince,” said the other, sturdily. “But you, + Rajah Laut, were even greater. And great you will remain while you are + with us, people of this sea and of this land. But what becomes of the + strength of your arms before your own white people? Where does it go to, I + say? Well, then, we must trust in the strength of your heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope that will never fail,” said Lingard, and Jaffir emitted a grunt of + satisfaction. “But God alone sees into men's hearts.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Our refuge is with Allah,” assented Jaffir, who had acquired the + habit of pious turns of speech in the frequentation of professedly + religious men, of whom there were many in Belarab's stockade. As a matter + of fact, he reposed all his trust in Lingard who had with him the prestige + of a providential man sent at the hour of need by heaven itself. He waited + a while, then: “What is the message I am to take?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Tell the whole tale to the Rajah Hassim,” said Lingard. “And tell him to + make his way here with the lady his sister secretly and with speed. The + time of great trouble has come. Let us, at least, be together.” + </p> + <p> + “Right! Right!” Jaffir approved, heartily. “To die alone under the weight + of one's enemies is a dreadful fate.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped back out of the sheen of the lamp by which they had been + talking and making his way down into the small canoe he took up a paddle + and without a splash vanished on the dark lagoon. + </p> + <p> + It was then that Mrs. Travers and d'Alcacer heard Lingard call aloud for + Jorgenson. Instantly the familiar shadow stood at Lingard's elbow and + listened in detached silence. Only at the end of the tale it marvelled + audibly: “Here's a mess for you if you like.” But really nothing in the + world could astonish or startle old Jorgenson. He turned away muttering in + his moustache. Lingard remained with his chin in his hand and Jaffir's + last words took gradual possession of his mind. Then brusquely he picked + up the lamp and went to seek Mrs. Travers. He went to seek her because he + actually needed her bodily presence, the sound of her voice, the dark, + clear glance of her eyes. She could do nothing for him. On his way he + became aware that Jorgenson had turned out the few Malays on board the + Emma and was disposing them about the decks to watch the lagoon in all + directions. On calling Mrs. Travers out of the Cage Lingard was, in the + midst of his mental struggle, conscious of a certain satisfaction in + taking her away from d'Alcacer. He couldn't spare any of her attention to + any other man, not the least crumb of her time, not the least particle of + her thought! He needed it all. To see it withdrawn from him for the merest + instant was irritating—seemed a disaster. + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer, left alone, wondered at the imperious tone of Lingard's call. + To this observer of shades the fact seemed considerable. “Sheer nerves,” + he concluded, to himself. “The man is overstrung. He must have had some + sort of shock.” But what could it be—he wondered to himself. In the + tense stagnation of those days of waiting the slightest tremor had an + enormous importance. D'Alcacer did not seek his camp bedstead. He didn't + even sit down. With the palms of his hands against the edge of the table + he leaned back against it. In that negligent attitude he preserved an + alert mind which for a moment wondered whether Mrs. Travers had not + spoiled Lingard a little. Yet in the suddenness of the forced association, + where, too, d'Alcacer was sure there was some moral problem in the + background, he recognized the extreme difficulty of weighing accurately + the imperious demands against the necessary reservations, the exact + proportions of boldness and caution. And d'Alcacer admired upon the whole + Mrs. Travers' cleverness. + </p> + <p> + There could be no doubt that she had the situation in her hands. That, of + course, did not mean safety. She had it in her hands as one may hold some + highly explosive and uncertain compound. D'Alcacer thought of her with + profound sympathy and with a quite unselfish interest. Sometimes in a + street we cross the path of personalities compelling sympathy and wonder + but for all that we don't follow them home. D'Alcacer refrained from + following Mrs. Travers any further. He had become suddenly aware that Mr. + Travers was sitting up on his camp bedstead. He must have done it very + suddenly. Only a moment before he had appeared plunged in the deepest + slumber, and the stillness for a long time now had been perfectly + unbroken. D'Alcacer was startled enough for an exclamation and Mr. Travers + turned his head slowly in his direction. D'Alcacer approached the bedstead + with a certain reluctance. + </p> + <p> + “Awake?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “A sudden chill,” said Mr. Travers. “But I don't feel cold now. Strange! I + had the impression of an icy blast.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said d'Alcacer. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, of course!” went on Mr. Travers. “This stagnating air never + moves. It clings odiously to one. What time is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Really, I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “The glass of my watch was smashed on that night when we were so + treacherously assailed by the savages on the sandbank,” grumbled Mr. + Travers. + </p> + <p> + “I must say I was never so surprised in my life,” confessed d'Alcacer. “We + had stopped and I was lighting a cigar, you may remember.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mr. Travers. “I had just then pulled out my watch. Of course it + flew out of my hand but it hung by the chain. Somebody trampled on it. The + hands are broken off short. It keeps on ticking but I can't tell the time. + It's absurd. Most provoking.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say,” asked d'Alcacer, “that you have been winding it up + every evening?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers looked up from his bedstead and he also seemed surprised. + “Why! I suppose I have.” He kept silent for a while. “It isn't so much + blind habit as you may think. My habits are the outcome of strict method. + I had to order my life methodically. You know very well, my dear + d'Alcacer, that without strict method I would not have been able to get + through my work and would have had no time at all for social duties, + which, of course, are of very great importance. I may say that, + materially, method has been the foundation of my success in public life. + There were never any empty moments in my day. And now this! . . .” He + looked all round the Cage. . . . “Where's my wife?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I was talking to her only a moment ago,” answered d'Alcacer. “I don't + know the time. My watch is on board the yacht; but it isn't late, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers flung off with unwonted briskness the light cotton sheet which + covered him. He buttoned hastily the tunic which he had unfastened before + lying down, and just as d'Alcacer was expecting him to swing his feet to + the deck impetuously, he lay down again on the pillow and remained + perfectly still. + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer waited awhile and then began to pace the Cage. After a couple of + turns he stopped and said, gently: + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, Travers, you are not very well.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what illness is,” answered the voice from the pillow to the + great relief of d'Alcacer who really had not expected an answer. “Good + health is a great asset in public life. Illness may make you miss a unique + opportunity. I was never ill.” + </p> + <p> + All this came out deadened in tone, as if the speaker's face had been + buried in the pillow. D'Alcacer resumed his pacing. + </p> + <p> + “I think I asked you where my wife was,” said the muffled voice. + </p> + <p> + With great presence of mind d'Alcacer kept on pacing the Cage as if he had + not heard.—“You know, I think she is mad,” went on the muffled + voice. “Unless I am.” + </p> + <p> + Again d'Alcacer managed not to interrupt his regular pacing. “Do you know + what I think?” he said, abruptly. “I think, Travers, that you don't want + to talk about her. I think that you don't want to talk about anything. And + to tell you the truth I don't want to, either.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer caught a faint sigh from the pillow and at the same time saw a + small, dim flame appear outside the Cage. And still he kept on his pacing. + Mrs. Travers and Lingard coming out of the deckhouse stopped just outside + the door and Lingard stood the deck-lamp on its roof. They were too far + from d'Alcacer to be heard, but he could make them out: Mrs. Travers, as + straight as an arrow, and the heavy bulk of the man who faced her with a + lowered head. He saw it in profile against the light and as if deferential + in its slight droop. They were looking straight at each other. Neither of + them made the slightest gesture. + </p> + <p> + “There is that in me,” Lingard murmured, deeply, “which would set my heart + harder than a stone. I am King Tom, Rajah Laut, and fit to look any man + hereabouts in the face. I have my name to take care of. Everything rests + on that.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. d'Alcacer would express this by saying that everything rested on + honour,” commented Mrs. Travers with lips that did not tremble, though + from time to time she could feel the accelerated beating of her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Call it what you like. It's something that a man needs to draw a free + breath. And look!—as you see me standing before you here I care for + it no longer.” + </p> + <p> + “But I do care for it,” retorted Mrs. Travers. “As you see me standing + here—I do care. This is something that is your very own. You have a + right to it. And I repeat I do care for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Care for something of my own,” murmured Lingard, very close to her face. + “Why should you care for my rights?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” she said, holding her ground though their foreheads were nearly + touching, “because if I ever get back to my life I don't want to make it + more absurd by real remorse.” + </p> + <p> + Her tone was soft and Lingard received the breath of those words like a + caress on his face. D'Alcacer, in the Cage, made still another effort to + keep up his pacing. He didn't want to give Mr. Travers the slightest + excuse for sitting up again and looking round. + </p> + <p> + “That I should live to hear anybody say they cared anything for what was + mine!” whispered Lingard. “And that it should be you—you, who have + taken all hardness out of me.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want your heart to be made hard. I want it to be made firm.” + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't have said anything better than what you have said just now + to make it steady,” flowed the murmur of Lingard's voice with something + tender in its depth. “Has anybody ever had a friend like this?” he + exclaimed, raising his head as if taking the starry night to witness. + </p> + <p> + “And I ask myself is it possible that there should be another man on earth + that I could trust as I trust you. I say to you: Yes! Go and save what you + have a right to and don't forget to be merciful. I will not remind you of + our perfect innocence. The earth must be small indeed that we should have + blundered like this into your life. It's enough to make one believe in + fatality. But I can't find it in me to behave like a fatalist, to sit down + with folded hands. Had you been another kind of man I might have been too + hopeless or too disdainful. Do you know what Mr. d'Alcacer calls you?” + </p> + <p> + Inside the Cage d'Alcacer, casting curious glances in their direction, saw + Lingard shake his head and thought with slight uneasiness: “He is refusing + her something.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. d'Alcacer's name for you is the 'Man of Fate',” said Mrs. Travers, a + little breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “A mouthful. Never mind, he is a gentleman. It's what you. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I call you all but by your Christian name,” said Mrs. Travers, hastily. + “Believe me, Mr. d'Alcacer understands you.” + </p> + <p> + “He is all right,” interjected Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “And he is innocent. I remember what you have said—that the innocent + must take their chance. Well, then, do what is right.” + </p> + <p> + “You think it would be right? You believe it? You feel it?” + </p> + <p> + “At this time, in this place, from a man like you—Yes, it is right.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard thought that woman wonderfully true to him and wonderfully + fearless with herself. The necessity to take back the two captives to the + stockade was so clear and unavoidable now, that he believed nothing on + earth could have stopped him from doing so, but where was there another + woman in the world who would have taken it like this? And he reflected + that in truth and courage there is found wisdom. It seemed to him that + till Mrs. Travers came to stand by his side he had never known what truth + and courage and wisdom were. With his eyes on her face and having been + told that in her eyes he appeared worthy of being both commanded and + entreated, he felt an instant of complete content, a moment of, as it + were, perfect emotional repose. + </p> + <p> + During the silence Mrs. Travers with a quick side-glance noticed d'Alcacer + as one sees a man in a mist, his mere dark shape arrested close to the + muslin screen. She had no doubt that he was looking in their direction and + that he could see them much more plainly than she could see him. Mrs. + Travers thought suddenly how anxious he must be; and she remembered that + he had begged her for some sign, for some warning, beforehand, at the + moment of crisis. She had understood very well his hinted request for time + to get prepared. If he was to get more than a few minutes, <i>this</i> was + the moment to make him a sign—the sign he had suggested himself. + Mrs. Travers moved back the least bit so as to let the light fall in front + of her and with a slow, distinct movement she put her left hand to her + forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” she heard Lingard's forcible murmur, “well, then, Mrs. + Travers, it must be done to-night.” + </p> + <p> + One may be true, fearless, and wise, and yet catch one's breath before the + simple finality of action. Mrs. Travers caught her breath: “To-night! + To-night!” she whispered. D'Alcacer's dark and misty silhouette became + more blurred. He had seen her sign and had retreated deeper within the + Cage. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to-night,” affirmed Lingard. “Now, at once, within the hour, this + moment,” he murmured, fiercely, following Mrs. Travers in her recoiling + movement. She felt her arm being seized swiftly. “Don't you see that if it + is to do any good, that if they are not to be delivered to mere slaughter, + it must be done while all is dark ashore, before an armed mob in boats + comes clamouring alongside? Yes. Before the night is an hour older, so + that I may be hammering at Belarab's gate while all the Settlement is + still asleep.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers didn't dream of protesting. For the moment she was unable to + speak. This man was very fierce and just as suddenly as it had been + gripped (making her think incongruously in the midst of her agitation that + there would be certainly a bruise there in the morning) she felt her arm + released and a penitential tone come into Lingard's murmuring voice. + </p> + <p> + “And even now it's nearly too late! The road was plain, but I saw you on + it and my heart failed me. I was there like an empty man and I dared not + face you. You must forgive me. No, I had no right to doubt you for a + moment. I feel as if I ought to go on my knees and beg your pardon for + forgetting what you are, for daring to forget.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, King Tom, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems as if I had sinned,” she heard him say. He seized her by the + shoulders, turned her about, moved her forward a step or two. His hands + were heavy, his force irresistible, though he himself imagined he was + handling her gently. “Look straight before you,” he growled into her ear. + “Do you see anything?” Mrs. Travers, passive between the rigid arms, could + see nothing but, far off, the massed, featureless shadows of the shore. + </p> + <p> + “No, I see nothing,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You can't be looking the right way,” she heard him behind her. And now + she felt her head between Lingard's hands. He moved it the least bit to + the right. “There! See it?” + </p> + <p> + “No. What am I to look for?” + </p> + <p> + “A gleam of light,” said Lingard, taking away his hands suddenly. “A gleam + that will grow into a blaze before our boat can get half way across the + lagoon.” + </p> + <p> + Even as Lingard spoke Mrs. Travers caught sight of a red spark far away. + She had looked often enough at the Settlement, as on the face of a + painting on a curtain, to have its configuration fixed in her mind, to + know that it was on the beach at its end furthest from Belarab's stockade. + </p> + <p> + “The brushwood is catching,” murmured Lingard in her ear. “If they had + some dry grass the whole pile would be blazing by now.” + </p> + <p> + “And this means. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “It means that the news has spread. And it is before Tengga's enclosure on + his end of the beach. That's where all the brains of the Settlement are. + It means talk and excitement and plenty of crafty words. Tengga's fire! I + tell you, Mrs. Travers, that before half an hour has passed Daman will be + there to make friends with the fat Tengga, who is ready to say to him, 'I + told you so'.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” murmured Mrs. Travers. Lingard drew her gently to the rail. + </p> + <p> + “And now look over there at the other end of the beach where the shadows + are heaviest. That is Belarab's fort, his houses, his treasure, his + dependents. That's where the strength of the Settlement is. I kept it up. + I made it last. But what is it now? It's like a weapon in the hand of a + dead man. And yet it's all we have to look to, if indeed there is still + time. I swear to you I wouldn't dare land them in daylight for fear they + should be slaughtered on the beach.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no time to lose,” whispered Mrs. Travers, and Lingard, too, + spoke very low. + </p> + <p> + “No, not if I, too, am to keep what is my right. It's you who have said + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have said it,” she whispered, without lifting her head. Lingard + made a brusque movement at her elbow and bent his head close to her + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “And I who mistrusted you! Like Arabs do to their great men, I ought to + kiss the hem of your robe in repentance for having doubted the greatness + of your heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my heart!” said Mrs. Travers, lightly, still gazing at the fire, + which had suddenly shot up to a tall blaze. “I can assure you it has been + of very little account in the world.” She paused for a moment to steady + her voice, then said, firmly, “Let's get this over.” + </p> + <p> + “To tell you the truth the boat has been ready for some time.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Travers,” said Lingard with an effort, “they are people of your own + kind.” And suddenly he burst out: “I cannot take them ashore bound hand + and foot.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. d'Alcacer knows. You will find him ready. Ever since the beginning he + has been prepared for whatever might happen.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a man,” said Lingard with conviction. “But it's of the other that I + am thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the other,” she repeated. “Then, what about my thoughts? Luckily we + have Mr. d'Alcacer. I shall speak to him first.” + </p> + <p> + She turned away from the rail and moved toward the Cage. + </p> + <p> + “Jorgenson,” the voice of Lingard resounded all along the deck, “get a + light on the gangway.” Then he followed Mrs. Travers slowly. + </p> + <p> + VI + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer, after receiving his warning, stepped back and leaned against + the edge of the table. He could not ignore in himself a certain emotion. + And indeed, when he had asked Mrs. Travers for a sign he expected to be + moved—but he had not expected the sign to come so soon. He expected + this night to pass like other nights, in broken slumbers, bodily + discomfort, and the unrest of disconnected thinking. At the same time he + was surprised at his own emotion. He had flattered himself on the + possession of more philosophy. He thought that this famous sense of + self-preservation was a queer thing, a purely animal thing. “For, as a + thinking man,” he reflected, “I really ought not to care.” It was probably + the unusual that affected him. Clearly. If he had been lying seriously ill + in a room in a hotel and had overheard some ominous whispers he would not + have cared in the least. Ah, but then he would have been ill—and in + illness one grows so indifferent. Illness is a great help to unemotional + behaviour, which of course is the correct behaviour for a man of the + world. He almost regretted he was not very ill. But, then, Mr. Travers was + obviously ill and it did not seem to help him much. D'Alcacer glanced at + the bedstead where Mr. Travers preserved an immobility which struck + d'Alcacer as obviously affected. He mistrusted it. Generally he mistrusted + Mr. Travers. One couldn't tell what he would do next. Not that he could do + much one way or another, but that somehow he threatened to rob the + situation of whatever dignity it may have had as a stroke of fate, as a + call on courage. Mr. d'Alcacer, acutely observant and alert for the + slightest hints, preferred to look upon himself as the victim not of a + swindle but of a rough man naively engaged in a contest with heaven's + injustice. D'Alcacer did not examine his heart, but some lines of a French + poet came into his mind, to the effect that in all times those who fought + with an unjust heaven had possessed the secret admiration and love of men. + He didn't go so far as love but he could not deny to himself that his + feeling toward Lingard was secretly friendly and—well, appreciative. + Mr. Travers sat up suddenly. What a horrible nuisance, thought d'Alcacer, + fixing his eyes on the tips of his shoes with the hope that perhaps the + other would lie down again. Mr. Travers spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Still up, d'Alcacer?” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you it isn't late. It's dark at six, we dined before seven, that + makes the night long and I am not a very good sleeper; that is, I cannot + go to sleep till late in the night.” + </p> + <p> + “I envy you,” said Mr. Travers, speaking with a sort of drowsy apathy. “I + am always dropping off and the awakenings are horrible.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer, raising his eyes, noticed that Mrs. Travers and Lingard had + vanished from the light. They had gone to the rail where d'Alcacer could + not see them. Some pity mingled with his vexation at Mr. Travers' snatchy + wakefulness. There was something weird about the man, he reflected. + “Jorgenson,” he began aloud. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” snapped Mr. Travers. + </p> + <p> + “It's the name of that lanky old store-keeper who is always about the + decks.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't seen him. I don't see anybody. I don't know anybody. I prefer + not to notice.” + </p> + <p> + “I was only going to say that he gave me a pack of cards; would you like a + game of piquet?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I could keep my eyes open,” said Mr. Travers in an + unexpectedly confidential tone. “Isn't it funny, d'Alcacer? And then I + wake up. It's too awful.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer made no remark and Mr. Travers seemed not to have expected any. + </p> + <p> + “When I said my wife was mad,” he began, suddenly, causing d'Alcacer to + start, “I didn't mean it literally, of course.” His tone sounded slightly + dogmatic and he didn't seem to be aware of any interval during which he + had appeared to sleep. D'Alcacer was convinced more than ever that he had + been shamming, and resigned himself wearily to listen, folding his arms + across his chest. “What I meant, really,” continued Mr. Travers, “was that + she is the victim of a craze. Society is subject to crazes, as you know + very well. They are not reprehensible in themselves, but the worst of my + wife is that her crazes are never like those of the people with whom she + naturally associates. They generally run counter to them. This peculiarity + has given me some anxiety, you understand, in the position we occupy. + People will begin to say that she is eccentric. Do you see her anywhere, + d'Alcacer?” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer was thankful to be able to say that he didn't see Mrs. Travers. + He didn't even hear any murmurs, though he had no doubt that everybody on + board the Emma was wide awake by now. But Mr. Travers inspired him with + invincible mistrust and he thought it prudent to add: + </p> + <p> + “You forget that your wife has a room in the deckhouse.” + </p> + <p> + This was as far as he would go, for he knew very well that she was not in + the deckhouse. Mr. Travers, completely convinced by the statement, made no + sound. But neither did he lie down again. D'Alcacer gave himself up to + meditation. The night seemed extremely oppressive. At Lingard's shout for + Jorgenson, that in the profound silence struck his ears ominously, he + raised his eyes and saw Mrs. Travers outside the door of the Cage. He + started forward but she was already within. He saw she was moved. She + seemed out of breath and as if unable to speak at first. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn't we better shut the door?” suggested d'Alcacer. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Lingard's coming in,” she whispered to him. “He has made up his + mind.” + </p> + <p> + “That's an excellent thing,” commented d'Alcacer, quietly. “I conclude + from this that we shall hear something.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall hear it all from me,” breathed out Mrs. Travers. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed d'Alcacer very low. + </p> + <p> + By that time Lingard had entered, too, and the decks of the Emma were all + astir with moving figures. Jorgenson's voice was also heard giving + directions. For nearly a minute the four persons within the Cage remained + motionless. A shadowy Malay in the gangway said suddenly: “Sudah, Tuan,” + and Lingard murmured, “Ready, Mrs. Travers.” + </p> + <p> + She seized d'Alcacer's arm and led him to the side of the Cage furthest + from the corner in which Mr. Travers' bed was placed, while Lingard busied + himself in pricking up the wick of the Cage lantern as if it had suddenly + occurred to him that this, whatever happened, should not be a deed of + darkness. Mr. Travers did nothing but turn his head to look over his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” said d'Alcacer, in a low tone and smiling at Mrs. Travers' + agitation. “Before you tell me anything let me ask you: 'Have <i>you</i> + made up your mind?'” He saw with much surprise a widening of her eyes. Was + it indignation? A pause as of suspicion fell between those two people. + Then d'Alcacer said apologetically: “Perhaps I ought not to have asked + that question,” and Lingard caught Mrs. Travers' words, “Oh, I am not + afraid to answer that question.” + </p> + <p> + Then their voices sank. Lingard hung the lamp up again and stood idle in + the revived light; but almost immediately he heard d'Alcacer calling him + discreetly. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Lingard!” + </p> + <p> + He moved toward them at once. At the same instant Mr. Travers' head + pivoted away from the group to its frontal position. + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer, very serious, spoke in a familiar undertone. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Travers tells me that we must be delivered up to those Moors on + shore.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is nothing else for it,” said Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “I confess I am a bit startled,” said d'Alcacer; but except for a slightly + hurried utterance nobody could have guessed at anything resembling + emotion. + </p> + <p> + “I have a right to my good name,” said Lingard, also very calm, while Mrs. + Travers near him, with half-veiled eyes, listened impassive like a + presiding genius. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't question that for a moment,” conceded d'Alcacer. “A point of + honour is not to be discussed. But there is such a thing as humanity, too. + To be delivered up helplessly. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps!” interrupted Lingard. “But you needn't feel hopeless. I am not + at liberty to give up my life for your own. Mrs. Travers knows why. That, + too, is engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “Always on your honour?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. A promise is a promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody can be held to the impossible,” remarked d'Alcacer. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible! What is impossible? I don't know it. I am not a man to talk + of the impossible or dodge behind it. I did not bring you here.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer lowered his head for a moment. “I have finished,” he said, + gravely. “That much I had to say. I hope you don't think I have appeared + unduly anxious.” + </p> + <p> + “It's the best policy, too.” Mrs. Travers made herself heard suddenly. + Nothing of her moved but her lips, she did not even raise her eyes. “It's + the only possible policy. You believe me, Mr. d'Alcacer? . . .” He made an + almost imperceptible movement of the head. . . . “Well, then, I put all my + hope in you, Mr. d'Alcacer, to get this over as easily as possible and + save us all from some odious scene. You think perhaps that it is I who + ought to. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! I don't think so,” interrupted d'Alcacer. “It would be + impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid it would,” she admitted, nervously. + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer made a gesture as if to beg her to say no more and at once + crossed over to Mr. Travers' side of the Cage. He did not want to give + himself time to think about his task. Mr. Travers was sitting up on the + camp bedstead with a light cotton sheet over his legs. He stared at + nothing, and on approaching him d'Alcacer disregarded the slight sinking + of his own heart at this aspect which seemed to be that of extreme terror. + “This is awful,” he thought. The man kept as still as a hare in its form. + </p> + <p> + The impressed d'Alcacer had to make an effort to bring himself to tap him + lightly on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “The moment has come, Travers, to show some fortitude,” he said with easy + intimacy. Mr. Travers looked up swiftly. “I have just been talking to your + wife. She had a communication from Captain Lingard for us both. It remains + for us now to preserve as much as possible our dignity. I hope that if + necessary we will both know how to die.” + </p> + <p> + In a moment of profound stillness, d'Alcacer had time to wonder whether + his face was as stony in expression as the one upturned to him. But + suddenly a smile appeared on it, which was certainly the last thing + d'Alcacer expected to see. An indubitable smile. A slightly contemptuous + smile. + </p> + <p> + “My wife has been stuffing your head with some more of her nonsense.” Mr. + Travers spoke in a voice which astonished d'Alcacer as much as the smile, + a voice that was not irritable nor peevish, but had a distinct note of + indulgence. “My dear d'Alcacer, that craze has got such a hold of her that + she would tell you any sort of tale. Social impostors, mediums, + fortune-tellers, charlatans of all sorts do obtain a strange influence + over women. You have seen that sort of thing yourself. I had a talk with + her before dinner. The influence that bandit has got over her is + incredible. I really believe the fellow is half crazy himself. They often + are, you know. I gave up arguing with her. Now, what is it you have got to + tell me? But I warn you that I am not going to take it seriously.” + </p> + <p> + He rejected briskly the cotton sheet, put his feet to the ground and + buttoned his jacket. D'Alcacer, as he talked, became aware by the slight + noise behind him that Mrs. Travers and Lingard were leaving the Cage, but + he went on to the end and then waited anxiously for the answer. + </p> + <p> + “See! She has followed him out on deck,” were Mr. Travers' first words. “I + hope you understand that it is a mere craze. You can't help seeing that. + Look at her costume. She simply has lost her head. Luckily the world + needn't know. But suppose that something similar had happened at home. It + would have been extremely awkward. Oh! yes, I will come. I will go + anywhere. I can't stand this hulk, those people, this infernal Cage. I + believe I should fall ill if I were to remain here.” + </p> + <p> + The inward detached voice of Jorgenson made itself heard near the gangway + saying: “The boat has been waiting for this hour past, King Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us make a virtue of necessity and go with a good grace,” said + d'Alcacer, ready to take Mr. Travers under the arm persuasively, for he + did not know what to make of that gentleman. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Travers seemed another man. “I am afraid, d'Alcacer, that you, + too, are not very strong-minded. I am going to take a blanket off this + bedstead. . . .” He flung it hastily over his arm and followed d'Alcacer + closely. “What I suffer mostly from, strange to say, is cold.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers and Lingard were waiting near the gangway. To everybody's + extreme surprise Mr. Travers addressed his wife first. + </p> + <p> + “You were always laughing at people's crazes,” was what he said, “and now + you have a craze of your own. But we won't discuss that.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer passed on, raising his cap to Mrs. Travers, and went down the + ship's side into the boat. Jorgenson had vanished in his own manner like + an exorcised ghost, and Lingard, stepping back, left husband and wife face + to face. + </p> + <p> + “Did you think I was going to make a fuss?” asked Mr. Travers in a very + low voice. “I assure you I would rather go than stay here. You didn't + think that? You have lost all sense of reality, of probability. I was just + thinking this evening that I would rather be anywhere than here looking on + at you. At your folly. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers' loud, “Martin!” made Lingard wince, caused d'Alcacer to lift + his head down there in the boat, and even Jorgenson, forward somewhere out + of sight, ceased mumbling in his moustache. The only person who seemed not + to have heard that exclamation was Mr. Travers himself, who continued + smoothly: + </p> + <p> + “. . . at the aberration of your mind, you who seemed so superior to + common credulities. You are not yourself, not at all, and some day you + will admit to me that . . . No, the best thing will be to forget it, as + you will soon see yourself. We shall never mention that subject in the + future. I am certain you will be only too glad to agree with me on that + point.” + </p> + <p> + “How far ahead are you looking?” asked Mrs. Travers, finding her voice and + even the very tone in which she would have addressed him had they been + about to part in the hall of their town house. She might have been asking + him at what time he expected to be home, while a footman held the door + open and the brougham waited in the street. + </p> + <p> + “Not very far. This can't last much longer.” Mr. Travers made a movement + as if to leave her exactly as though he were rather pressed to keep an + appointment. “By the by,” he said, checking himself, “I suppose the fellow + understands thoroughly that we are wealthy. He could hardly doubt that.” + </p> + <p> + “It's the last thought that would enter his head,” said Mrs. Travers. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, just so,” Mr. Travers allowed a little impatience to pierce + under his casual manner. “But I don't mind telling you that I have had + enough of this. I am prepared to make—ah!—to make concessions. + A large pecuniary sacrifice. Only the whole position is so absurd! He + might conceivably doubt my good faith. Wouldn't it be just as well if you, + with your particular influence, would hint to him that with me he would + have nothing to fear? I am a man of my word.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the first thing he would naturally think of any man,” said Mrs. + Travers. + </p> + <p> + “Will your eyes never be opened?” Mr. Travers began, irritably, then gave + it up. “Well, so much the better then. I give you a free hand.” + </p> + <p> + “What made you change your attitude like this?” asked Mrs. Travers, + suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “My regard for you,” he answered without hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “I intended to join you in your captivity. I was just trying to persuade + him. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I forbid you absolutely,” whispered Mr. Travers, forcibly. “I am glad to + get away. I don't want to see you again till your craze is over.” + </p> + <p> + She was confounded by his secret vehemence. But instantly succeeding his + fierce whisper came a short, inane society laugh and a much louder, “Not + that I attach any importance . . .” + </p> + <p> + He sprang away, as it were, from his wife, and as he went over the gangway + waved his hand to her amiably. + </p> + <p> + Lighted dimly by the lantern on the roof of the deckhouse Mrs. Travers + remained very still with lowered head and an aspect of profound + meditation. It lasted but an instant before she moved off and brushing + against Lingard passed on with downcast eyes to her deck cabin. Lingard + heard the door shut. He waited awhile, made a movement toward the gangway + but checked himself and followed Mrs. Travers into her cabin. + </p> + <p> + It was pitch dark in there. He could see absolutely nothing and was + oppressed by the profound stillness unstirred even by the sound of + breathing. + </p> + <p> + “I am going on shore,” he began, breaking the black and deathlike silence + enclosing him and the invisible woman. “I wanted to say good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going on shore,” repeated Mrs. Travers. Her voice was + emotionless, blank, unringing. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for a few hours, or for life,” Lingard said in measured tones. “I + may have to die with them or to die maybe for others. For you, if I only + knew how to manage it, I would want to live. I am telling you this because + it is dark. If there had been a light in here I wouldn't have come in.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you had not,” uttered the same unringing woman's voice. “You are + always coming to me with those lives and those deaths in your hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's too much for you,” was Lingard's undertoned comment. “You could + be no other than true. And you are innocent! Don't wish me life, but wish + me luck, for you are innocent—and you will have to take your + chance.” + </p> + <p> + “All luck to you, King Tom,” he heard her say in the darkness in which he + seemed now to perceive the gleam of her hair. “I will take my chance. And + try not to come near me again for I am weary of you.” + </p> + <p> + “I can well believe it,” murmured Lingard, and stepped out of the cabin, + shutting the door after him gently. For half a minute, perhaps, the + stillness continued, and then suddenly the chair fell over in the + darkness. Next moment Mrs. Travers' head appeared in the light of the lamp + left on the roof of the deckhouse. Her bare arms grasped the door posts. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment,” she said, loudly, into the shadows of the deck. She heard + no footsteps, saw nothing moving except the vanishing white shape of the + late Captain H. C. Jorgenson, who was indifferent to the life of men. + “Wait, King Tom!” she insisted, raising her voice; then, “I didn't mean + it. Don't believe me!” she cried, recklessly. + </p> + <p> + For the second time that night a woman's voice startled the hearts of men + on board the Emma. All except the heart of old Jorgenson. The Malays in + the boat looked up from their thwarts. D'Alcacer, sitting in the stern + sheets beside Lingard, felt a sinking of his heart. + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” he exclaimed. “I heard your name on deck. You are wanted, I + think.” + </p> + <p> + “Shove off,” ordered Lingard, inflexibly, without even looking at + d'Alcacer. Mr. Travers was the only one who didn't seem to be aware of + anything. A long time after the boat left the Emma's side he leaned toward + d'Alcacer. + </p> + <p> + “I have a most extraordinary feeling,” he said in a cautious undertone. “I + seem to be in the air—I don't know. Are we on the water, d'Alcacer? + Are you quite sure? But of course, we are on the water.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said d'Alcacer, in the same tone. “Crossing the Styx—perhaps.” + He heard Mr. Travers utter an unmoved “Very likely,” which he did not + expect. Lingard, his hand on the tiller, sat like a man of stone. + </p> + <p> + “Then your point of view has changed,” whispered d'Alcacer. + </p> + <p> + “I told my wife to make an offer,” went on the earnest whisper of the + other man. “A sum of money. But to tell you the truth I don't believe very + much in its success.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer made no answer and only wondered whether he didn't like better + Mr. Travers' other, unreasonable mood. There was no denying the fact that + Mr. Travers was a troubling person. Now he suddenly gripped d'Alcacer's + fore-arm and added under his breath: “I doubt everything. I doubt whether + the offer will ever be made.” + </p> + <p> + All this was not very impressive. There was something pitiful in it: + whisper, grip, shudder, as of a child frightened in the dark. But the + emotion was deep. Once more that evening, but this time aroused by the + husband's distress, d'Alcacer's wonder approached the borders of awe. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART6" id="link2H_PART6"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART VI. THE CLAIM OF LIFE AND THE TOLL OF DEATH + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + “Have you got King Tom's watch in there?” said a voice that seemed not to + attach the slightest importance to the question. Jorgenson, outside the + door of Mrs. Travers' part of the deckhouse, waited for the answer. He + heard a low cry very much like a moan, the startled sound of pain that may + be sometimes heard in sick rooms. But it moved him not at all. He would + never have dreamt of opening the door unless told to do so, in which case + he would have beheld, with complete indifference, Mrs. Travers extended on + the floor with her head resting on the edge of the camp bedstead (on which + Lingard had never slept), as though she had subsided there from a kneeling + posture which is the attitude of prayer, supplication, or defeat. The + hours of the night had passed Mrs. Travers by. After flinging herself on + her knees, she didn't know why, since she could think of nothing to pray + for, had nothing to invoke, and was too far gone for such a futile thing + as despair, she had remained there till the sense of exhaustion had grown + on her to the point in which she lost her belief in her power to rise. In + a half-sitting attitude, her head resting against the edge of the couch + and her arms flung above her head, she sank into an indifference, the mere + resignation of a worn-out body and a worn-out mind which often is the only + sort of rest that comes to people who are desperately ill and is welcome + enough in a way. The voice of Jorgenson roused her out of that state. She + sat up, aching in every limb and cold all over. + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson, behind the door, repeated with lifeless obstinacy: + </p> + <p> + “Do you see King Tom's watch in there?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers got up from the floor. She tottered, snatching at the air, + and found the back of the armchair under her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Who's there?” + </p> + <p> + She was also ready to ask: “Where am I?” but she remembered and at once + became the prey of that active dread which had been lying dormant for a + few hours in her uneasy and prostrate body. “What time is it?” she + faltered out. + </p> + <p> + “Dawn,” pronounced the imperturbable voice at the door. It seemed to her + that it was a word that could make any heart sink with apprehension. Dawn! + She stood appalled. And the toneless voice outside the door insisted: + </p> + <p> + “You must have Tom's watch there!” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't seen it,” she cried as if tormented by a dream. + </p> + <p> + “Look in that desk thing. If you push open the shutter you will be able to + see.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers became aware of the profound darkness of the cabin. Jorgenson + heard her staggering in there. After a moment a woman's voice, which + struck even him as strange, said in faint tones: + </p> + <p> + “I have it. It's stopped.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't matter. I don't want to know the time. There should be a key + about. See it anywhere?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's fastened to the watch,” the dazed voice answered from within. + Jorgenson waited before making his request. “Will you pass it out to me? + There's precious little time left now!” + </p> + <p> + The door flew open, which was certainly something Jorgenson had not + expected. He had expected but a hand with the watch protruded through a + narrow crack, But he didn't start back or give any other sign of surprise + at seeing Mrs. Travers fully dressed. Against the faint clearness in the + frame of the open shutter she presented to him the dark silhouette of her + shoulders surmounted by a sleek head, because her hair was still in the + two plaits. To Jorgenson Mrs. Travers in her un-European dress had always + been displeasing, almost monstrous. Her stature, her gestures, her general + carriage struck his eye as absurdly incongruous with a Malay costume, too + ample, too free, too bold—offensive. To Mrs. Travers, Jorgenson, in + the dusk of the passage, had the aspect of a dim white ghost, and he + chilled her by his ghost's aloofness. + </p> + <p> + He picked up the watch from her outspread palm without a word of thanks, + only mumbling in his moustache, “H'm, yes, that's it. I haven't yet + forgotten how to count seconds correctly, but it's better to have a + watch.” + </p> + <p> + She had not the slightest notion what he meant. And she did not care. Her + mind remained confused and the sense of bodily discomfort oppressed her. + She whispered, shamefacedly, “I believe I've slept.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't,” mumbled Jorgenson, growing more and more distinct to her + eyes. The brightness of the short dawn increased rapidly as if the sun + were impatient to look upon the Settlement. “No fear of that,” he added, + boastfully. + </p> + <p> + It occurred to Mrs. Travers that perhaps she had not slept either. Her + state had been more like an imperfect, half-conscious, quivering death. + She shuddered at the recollection. + </p> + <p> + “What an awful night,” she murmured, drearily. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing to hope for from Jorgenson. She expected him to vanish, + indifferent, like a phantom of the dead carrying off the appropriately + dead watch in his hand for some unearthly purpose. Jorgenson didn't move. + His was an insensible, almost a senseless presence! Nothing could be + extorted from it. But a wave of anguish as confused as all her other + sensations swept Mrs. Travers off her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you tell me something?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + For half a minute perhaps Jorgenson made no sound; then: “For years I have + been telling anybody who cared to ask,” he mumbled in his moustache. + “Telling Tom, too. And Tom knew what he wanted to do. How's one to know + what <i>you</i> are after?” + </p> + <p> + She had never expected to hear so many words from that rigid shadow. Its + monotonous mumble was fascinating, its sudden loquacity was shocking. And + in the profound stillness that reigned outside it was as if there had been + no one left in the world with her but the phantom of that old adventurer. + He was heard again: “What I could tell you would be worse than poison.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers was not familiar with Jorgenson's consecrated phrases. The + mechanical voice, the words themselves, his air of abstraction appalled + her. And he hadn't done yet; she caught some more of his unconcerned + mumbling: “There is nothing I don't know,” and the absurdity of the + statement was also appalling. Mrs. Travers gasped and with a wild little + laugh: + </p> + <p> + “Then you know why I called after King Tom last night.” + </p> + <p> + He glanced away along his shoulder through the door of the deckhouse at + the growing brightness of the day. She did so, too. It was coming. It had + come! Another day! And it seemed to Mrs. Travers a worse calamity than any + discovery she had made in her life, than anything she could have imagined + to come to her. The very magnitude of horror steadied her, seemed to calm + her agitation as some kinds of fatal drugs do before they kill. She laid a + steady hand on Jorgenson's sleeve and spoke quietly, distinctly, urgently. + </p> + <p> + “You were on deck. What I want to know is whether I was heard?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jorgenson, absently, “I heard you.” Then, as if roused a + little, he added less mechanically: “The whole ship heard you.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers asked herself whether perchance she had not simply screamed. + It had never occurred to her before that perhaps she had. At the time it + seemed to her she had no strength for more than a whisper. Had she been + really so loud? And the deadly chill, the night that had gone by her had + left in her body, vanished from her limbs, passed out of her in a flush. + Her face was turned away from the light, and that fact gave her courage to + continue. Moreover, the man before her was so detached from the shames and + prides and schemes of life that he seemed not to count at all, except that + somehow or other he managed at times to catch the mere literal sense of + the words addressed to him—and answer them. And answer them! Answer + unfailingly, impersonally, without any feeling. + </p> + <p> + “You saw Tom—King Tom? Was he there? I mean just then, at the + moment. There was a light at the gangway. Was he on deck?” + </p> + <p> + “No. In the boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Already? Could I have been heard in the boat down there? You say the + whole ship heard me—and I don't care. But could he hear me?” + </p> + <p> + “Was it Tom you were after?” said Jorgenson in the tone of a negligent + remark. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you answer me?” she cried, angrily. + </p> + <p> + “Tom was busy. No child's play. The boat shoved off,” said Jorgenson, as + if he were merely thinking aloud. + </p> + <p> + “You won't tell me, then?” Mrs. Travers apostrophized him, fearlessly. She + was not afraid of Jorgenson. Just then she was afraid of nothing and + nobody. And Jorgenson went on thinking aloud. + </p> + <p> + “I guess he will be kept busy from now on and so shall I.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers seemed ready to take by the shoulders and shake that + dead-voiced spectre till it begged for mercy. But suddenly her strong + white arms fell down by her side, the arms of an exhausted woman. + </p> + <p> + “I shall never, never find out,” she whispered to herself. + </p> + <p> + She cast down her eyes in intolerable humiliation, in intolerable desire, + as though she had veiled her face. Not a sound reached the loneliness of + her thought. But when she raised her eyes again Jorgenson was no longer + standing before her. + </p> + <p> + For an instant she saw him all black in the brilliant and narrow doorway, + and the next moment he had vanished outside, as if devoured by the hot + blaze of light. The sun had risen on the Shore of Refuge. + </p> + <p> + When Mrs. Travers came out on deck herself it was as it were with a boldly + unveiled face, with wide-open and dry, sleepless eyes. Their gaze, + undismayed by the sunshine, sought the innermost heart of things each day + offered to the passion of her dread and of her impatience. The lagoon, the + beach, the colours and the shapes struck her more than ever as a luminous + painting on an immense cloth hiding the movements of an inexplicable life. + She shaded her eyes with her hand. There were figures on the beach, moving + dark dots on the white semicircle bounded by the stockades, backed by roof + ridges above the palm groves. Further back the mass of carved white coral + on the roof of the mosque shone like a white day-star. Religion and + politics—always politics! To the left, before Tengga's enclosure, + the loom of fire had changed into a pillar of smoke. But there were some + big trees over there and she couldn't tell whether the night council had + prolonged its sitting. Some vague forms were still moving there and she + could picture them to herself: Daman, the supreme chief of sea-robbers, + with a vengeful heart and the eyes of a gazelle; Sentot, the sour fanatic + with the big turban, that other saint with a scanty loin cloth and ashes + in his hair, and Tengga whom she could imagine from hearsay, fat, + good-tempered, crafty, but ready to spill blood on his ambitious way and + already bold enough to flaunt a yellow state umbrella at the very gate of + Belarab's stockade—so they said. + </p> + <p> + She saw, she imagined, she even admitted now the reality of those things + no longer a mere pageant marshalled for her vision with barbarous + splendour and savage emphasis. She questioned it no longer—but she + did not feel it in her soul any more than one feels the depth of the sea + under its peaceful glitter or the turmoil of its grey fury. Her eyes + ranged afar, unbelieving and fearful—and then all at once she became + aware of the empty Cage with its interior in disorder, the camp bedsteads + not taken away, a pillow lying on the deck, the dying flame like a shred + of dull yellow stuff inside the lamp left hanging over the table. The + whole struck her as squalid and as if already decayed, a flimsy and idle + phantasy. But Jorgenson, seated on the deck with his back to it, was not + idle. His occupation, too, seemed fantastic and so truly childish that her + heart sank at the man's utter absorption in it. Jorgenson had before him, + stretched on the deck, several bits of rather thin and dirty-looking rope + of different lengths from a couple of inches to about a foot. He had (an + idiot might have amused himself in that way) set fire to the ends of them. + They smouldered with amazing energy, emitting now and then a splutter, and + in the calm air within the bulwarks sent up very slender, exactly parallel + threads of smoke, each with a vanishing curl at the end; and the + absorption with which Jorgenson gave himself up to that pastime was enough + to shake all confidence in his sanity. + </p> + <p> + In one half-opened hand he was holding the watch. He was also provided + with a scrap of paper and the stump of a pencil. Mrs. Travers was + confident that he did not either hear or see her. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Jorgenson, you no doubt think. . . .” + </p> + <p> + He tried to wave her away with the stump of the pencil. He did not want to + be interrupted in his strange occupation. He was playing very gravely + indeed with those bits of string. “I lighted them all together,” he + murmured, keeping one eye on the dial of the watch. Just then the shortest + piece of string went out, utterly consumed. Jorgenson made a hasty note + and remained still while Mrs. Travers looked at him with stony eyes + thinking that nothing in the world was any use. The other threads of smoke + went on vanishing in spirals before the attentive Jorgenson. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing?” asked Mrs. Travers, drearily. + </p> + <p> + “Timing match . . . precaution. . . .” + </p> + <p> + He had never in Mrs. Travers' experience been less spectral than then. He + displayed a weakness of the flesh. He was impatient at her intrusion. He + divided his attention between the threads of smoke and the face of the + watch with such interest that the sudden reports of several guns breaking + for the first time for days the stillness of the lagoon and the illusion + of the painted scene failed to make him raise his head. He only jerked it + sideways a little. Mrs. Travers stared at the wisps of white vapour + floating above Belarab's stockade. The series of sharp detonations ceased + and their combined echoes came back over the lagoon like a long-drawn and + rushing sigh. + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” cried Mrs. Travers. + </p> + <p> + “Belarab's come home,” said Jorgenson. + </p> + <p> + The last thread of smoke disappeared and Jorgenson got up. He had lost all + interest in the watch and thrust it carelessly into his pocket, together + with the bit of paper and the stump of pencil. He had resumed his + aloofness from the life of men, but approaching the bulwark he + condescended to look toward Belarab's stockade. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is home,” he said very low. + </p> + <p> + “What's going to happen?” cried Mrs. Travers. “What's to be done?” + Jorgenson kept up his appearance of communing with himself. + </p> + <p> + “I know what to do,” he mumbled. + </p> + <p> + “You are lucky,” said Mrs. Travers, with intense bitterness. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to her that she was abandoned by all the world. The opposite + shore of the lagoon had resumed its aspect of a painted scene that would + never roll up to disclose the truth behind its blinding and soulless + splendour. It seemed to her that she had said her last words to all of + them: to d'Alcacer, to her husband, to Lingard himself—and that they + had all gone behind the curtain forever out of her sight. Of all the white + men Jorgenson alone was left, that man who had done with life so + completely that his mere presence robbed it of all heat and mystery, + leaving nothing but its terrible, its revolting insignificance. And Mrs. + Travers was ready for revolt. She cried with suppressed passion: + </p> + <p> + “Are you aware, Captain Jorgenson, that I am alive?” + </p> + <p> + He turned his eyes on her, and for a moment she was daunted by their cold + glassiness. But before they could drive her away, something like the gleam + of a spark gave them an instant's animation. + </p> + <p> + “I want to go and join them. I want to go ashore,” she said, firmly. + “There!” + </p> + <p> + Her bare and extended arm pointed across the lagoon, and Jorgenson's + resurrected eyes glided along the white limb and wandered off into space. + </p> + <p> + “No boat,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “There must be a canoe. I know there is a canoe. I want it.” + </p> + <p> + She stepped forward compelling, commanding, trying to concentrate in her + glance all her will power, the sense of her own right to dispose of + herself and her claim to be served to the last moment of her life. It was + as if she had done nothing. Jorgenson didn't flinch. + </p> + <p> + “Which of them are you after?” asked his blank, unringing voice. + </p> + <p> + She continued to look at him; her face had stiffened into a severe mask; + she managed to say distinctly: + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you have been asking yourself that question for some time, + Captain Jorgenson?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I am asking you now.” + </p> + <p> + His face disclosed nothing to Mrs. Travers' bold and weary eyes. “What + could you do over there?” Jorgenson added as merciless, as irrepressible, + and sincere as though he were the embodiment of that inner voice that + speaks in all of us at times and, like Jorgenson, is offensive and + difficult to answer. + </p> + <p> + “Remember that I am not a shadow but a living woman still, Captain + Jorgenson. I can live and I can die. Send me over to share their fate.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure you would like?” asked the roused Jorgenson in a voice that had an + unexpected living quality, a faint vibration which no man had known in it + for years. “There may be death in it,” he mumbled, relapsing into + indifference. + </p> + <p> + “Who cares?” she said, recklessly. “All I want is to ask Tom a question + and hear his answer. That's what I would like. That's what I must have.” + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + Along the hot and gloomy forest path, neglected, overgrown and strangled + in the fierce life of the jungle, there came a faint rustle of leaves. + Jaffir, the servant of princes, the messenger of great men, walked, + stooping, with a broad chopper in his hand. He was naked from the waist + upward, his shoulders and arms were scratched and bleeding. A multitude of + biting insects made a cloud about his head. He had lost his costly and + ancient head-kerchief, and when in a slightly wider space he stopped in a + listening attitude anybody would have taken him for a fugitive. + </p> + <p> + He waved his arms about, slapping his shoulders, the sides of his head, + his heaving flanks; then, motionless, listened again for a while. A sound + of firing, not so much made faint by distance as muffled by the masses of + foliage, reached his ears, dropping shots which he could have counted if + he had cared to. “There is fighting in the forest already,” he thought. + Then putting his head low in the tunnel of vegetation he dashed forward + out of the horrible cloud of flies, which he actually managed for an + instant to leave behind him. But it was not from the cruelty of insects + that he was flying, for no man could hope to drop that escort, and Jaffir + in his life of a faithful messenger had been accustomed, if such an + extravagant phrase may be used, to be eaten alive. Bent nearly double he + glided and dodged between the trees, through the undergrowth, his brown + body streaming with sweat, his firm limbs gleaming like limbs of + imperishable bronze through the mass of green leaves that are forever born + and forever dying. For all his desperate haste he was no longer a + fugitive; he was simply a man in a tremendous hurry. His flight, which had + begun with a bound and a rush and a general display of great presence of + mind, was a simple issue from a critical situation. Issues from critical + situations are generally simple if one is quick enough to think of them in + time. He became aware very soon that the attempt to pursue him had been + given up, but he had taken the forest path and had kept up his pace + because he had left his Rajah and the lady Immada beset by enemies on the + edge of the forest, as good as captives to a party of Tengga's men. + </p> + <p> + Belarab's hesitation had proved too much even for Hassim's hereditary + patience in such matters. It is but becoming that weighty negotiations + should be spread over many days, that the same requests and arguments + should be repeated in the same words, at many successive interviews, and + receive the same evasive answers. Matters of state demand the dignity of + such a procedure as if time itself had to wait on the power and wisdom of + rulers. Such are the proceedings of embassies and the dignified patience + of envoys. But at this time of crisis Hassim's impatience obtained the + upper hand; and though he never departed from the tradition of soft speech + and restrained bearing while following with his sister in the train of the + pious Belarab, he had his moments of anger, of anxiety, of despondency. + His friendships, his future, his country's destinies were at stake, while + Belarab's camp wandered deviously over the back country as if influenced + by the vacillation of the ruler's thought, the very image of uncertain + fate. + </p> + <p> + Often no more than the single word “Good” was all the answer vouchsafed to + Hassim's daily speeches. The lesser men, companions of the Chief, treated + him with deference; but Hassim could feel the opposition from the women's + side of the camp working against his cause in subservience to the mere + caprice of the new wife, a girl quite gentle and kind to her dependents, + but whose imagination had run away with her completely and had made her + greedy for the loot of the yacht from mere simplicity and innocence. What + could Hassim, that stranger, wandering and poor, offer for her acceptance? + Nothing. The wealth of his far-off country was but an idle tale, the talk + of an exile looking for help. + </p> + <p> + At night Hassim had to listen to the anguished doubts of Immada, the only + companion of his life, child of the same mother, brave as a man, but in + her fears a very woman. She whispered them to him far into the night while + the camp of the great Belarab was hushed in sleep and the fires had sunk + down to mere glowing embers. Hassim soothed her gravely. But he, too, was + a native of Wajo where men are more daring and quicker of mind than other + Malays. More energetic, too, and energy does not go without an inner fire. + Hassim lost patience and one evening he declared to his sister Immada: + “To-morrow we leave this ruler without a mind and go back to our white + friend.” + </p> + <p> + Therefore next morning, letting the camp move on the direct road to the + settlement, Hassim and Immada took a course of their own. It was a lonely + path between the jungle and the clearings. They had two attendants with + them, Hassim's own men, men of Wajo; and so the lady Immada, when she had + a mind to, could be carried, after the manner of the great ladies of Wajo + who need not put foot to the ground unless they like. The lady Immada, + accustomed to the hardships that are the lot of exiles, preferred to walk, + but from time to time she let herself be carried for a short distance out + of regard for the feelings of her attendants. The party made good time + during the early hours, and Hassim expected confidently to reach before + evening the shore of the lagoon at a spot very near the stranded Emma. At + noon they rested in the shade near a dark pool within the edge of the + forest; and it was there that Jaffir met them, much to his and their + surprise. It was the occasion of a long talk. Jaffir, squatting on his + heels, discoursed in measured tones. He had entranced listeners. The story + of Carter's exploit amongst the Shoals had not reached Belarab's camp. It + was a great shock to Hassim, but the sort of half smile with which he had + been listening to Jaffir never altered its character. It was the Princess + Immada who cried out in distress and wrung her hands. A deep silence fell. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, before the fatal magnitude of the fact it seemed even to those + Malays that there was nothing to say and Jaffir, lowering his head, + respected his Prince's consternation. Then, before that feeling could pass + away from that small group of people seated round a few smouldering + sticks, the noisy approach of a large party of men made them all leap to + their feet. Before they could make another movement they perceived + themselves discovered. The men were armed as if bound on some warlike + expedition. Amongst them Sentot, in his loin cloth and with unbound wild + locks, capered and swung his arms about like the lunatic he was. The + others' astonishment made them halt, but their attitude was obviously + hostile. In the rear a portly figure flanked by two attendants carrying + swords was approaching prudently. Rajah Hassim resumed quietly his seat on + the trunk of a fallen tree, Immada rested her hand lightly on her + brother's shoulder, and Jaffir, squatting down again, looked at the ground + with all his faculties and every muscle of his body tensely on the alert. + </p> + <p> + “Tengga's fighters,” he murmured, scornfully. + </p> + <p> + In the group somebody shouted, and was answered by shouts from afar. There + could be no thought of resistance. Hassim slipped the emerald ring from + his finger stealthily and Jaffir got hold of it by an almost imperceptible + movement. The Rajah did not even look at the trusty messenger. + </p> + <p> + “Fail not to give it to the white man,” he murmured. “Thy servant hears, O + Rajah. It's a charm of great power.” + </p> + <p> + The shadows were growing to the westward. Everybody was silent, and the + shifting group of armed men seemed to have drifted closer. Immada, drawing + the end of a scarf across her face, confronted the advance with only one + eye exposed. On the flank of the armed men Sentot was performing a slow + dance but he, too, seemed to have gone dumb. + </p> + <p> + “Now go,” breathed out Rajah Hassim, his gaze levelled into space + immovably. + </p> + <p> + For a second or more Jaffir did not stir, then with a sudden leap from his + squatting posture he flew through the air and struck the jungle in a great + commotion of leaves, vanishing instantly like a swimmer diving from on + high. A deep murmur of surprise arose in the armed party, a spear was + thrown, a shot was fired, three or four men dashed into the forest, but + they soon returned crestfallen with apologetic smiles; while Jaffir, + striking an old path that seemed to lead in the right direction, ran on in + solitude, raising a rustle of leaves, with a naked parang in his hand and + a cloud of flies about his head. The sun declining to the westward threw + shafts of light across his dark path. He ran at a springy half-trot, his + eyes watchful, his broad chest heaving, and carrying the emerald ring on + the forefinger of a clenched hand as though he were afraid it should slip + off, fly off, be torn from him by an invisible force, or spirited away by + some enchantment. Who could tell what might happen? There were evil forces + at work in the world, powerful incantations, horrible apparitions. The + messenger of princes and of great men, charged with the supreme appeal of + his master, was afraid in the deepening shade of the forest. Evil + presences might have been lurking in that gloom. Still the sun had not set + yet. He could see its face through the leaves as he skirted the shore of + the lagoon. But what if Allah's call should come to him suddenly and he + die as he ran! + </p> + <p> + He drew a long breath on the shore of the lagoon within about a hundred + yards from the stranded bows of the Emma. The tide was out and he walked + to the end of a submerged log and sent out a hail for a boat. Jorgenson's + voice answered. The sun had sunk behind the forest belt of the coast. All + was still as far as the eye could reach over the black water. A slight + breeze came along it and Jaffir on the brink, waiting for a canoe, + shivered a little. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment Carter, exhausted by thirty hours of uninterrupted toil + at the head of whites and Malays in getting the yacht afloat, dropped into + Mrs. Travers' deck chair, on board the Hermit, said to the devoted Wasub: + “Let a good watch be kept to-night, old man,” glanced contentedly at the + setting sun and fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + III + </p> + <p> + There was in the bows of the Emma an elevated grating over the heel of her + bowsprit whence the eye could take in the whole range of her deck and see + every movement of her crew. It was a spot safe from eaves-droppers, + though, of course, exposed to view. The sun had just set on the supreme + content of Carter when Jorgenson and Jaffir sat down side by side between + the knightheads of the Emma and, public but unapproachable, impressive and + secret, began to converse in low tones. + </p> + <p> + Every Wajo fugitive who manned the hulk felt the approach of a decisive + moment. Their minds were made up and their hearts beat steadily. They were + all desperate men determined to fight and to die and troubling not about + the manner of living or dying. This was not the case with Mrs. Travers + who, having shut herself up in the deckhouse, was profoundly troubled + about those very things, though she, too, felt desperate enough to welcome + almost any solution. + </p> + <p> + Of all the people on board she alone did not know anything of that + conference. In her deep and aimless thinking she had only become aware of + the absence of the slightest sound on board the Emma. Not a rustle, not a + footfall. The public view of Jorgenson and Jaffir in deep consultation had + the effect of taking all wish to move from every man. + </p> + <p> + Twilight enveloped the two figures forward while they talked, looking in + the stillness of their pose like carved figures of European and Asiatic + contrasted in intimate contact. The deepening dusk had nearly effaced them + when at last they rose without warning, as it were, and thrilling the + heart of the beholders by the sudden movement. But they did not separate + at once. They lingered in their high place as if awaiting the fall of + complete darkness, a fit ending to their mysterious communion. Jaffir had + given Jorgenson the whole story of the ring, the symbol of a friendship + matured and confirmed on the night of defeat, on the night of flight from + a far-distant land sleeping unmoved under the wrath and fire of heaven. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Tuan,” continued Jaffir, “it was first sent out to the white man, on + a night of mortal danger, a present to remember a friend by. I was the + bearer of it then even as I am now. Then, as now, it was given to me and I + was told to save myself and hand the ring over in confirmation of my + message. I did so and that white man seemed to still the very storm to + save my Rajah. He was not one to depart and forget him whom he had once + called his friend. My message was but a message of good-bye, but the charm + of the ring was strong enough to draw all the power of that white man to + the help of my master. Now I have no words to say. Rajah Hassim asks for + nothing. But what of that? By the mercy of Allah all things are the same, + the compassion of the Most High, the power of the ring, the heart of the + white man. Nothing is changed, only the friendship is a little older and + love has grown because of the shared dangers and long companionship. + Therefore, Tuan, I have no fear. But how am I to get the ring to the Rajah + Laut? Just hand it to him. The last breath would be time enough if they + were to spear me at his feet. But alas! the bush is full of Tengga's men, + the beach is open and I could never even hope to reach the gate.” + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson, with his hands deep in the pockets of his tunic, listened, + looking down. Jaffir showed as much consternation as his nature was + capable of. + </p> + <p> + “Our refuge is with God,” he murmured. “But what is to be done? Has your + wisdom no stratagem, O Tuan?” + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson did not answer. It appeared as though he had no stratagem. But + God is great and Jaffir waited on the other's immobility, anxious but + patient, perplexed yet hopeful in his grim way, while the night flowing on + from the dark forest near by hid their two figures from the sight of + observing men. Before the silence of Jorgenson Jaffir began to talk + practically. Now that Tengga had thrown off the mask Jaffir did not think + that he could land on the beach without being attacked, captured, nay + killed, since a man like he, though he could save himself by taking flight + at the order of his master, could not be expected to surrender without a + fight. He mentioned that in the exercise of his important functions he + knew how to glide like a shadow, creep like a snake, and almost burrow his + way underground. He was Jaffir who had never been foiled. No bog, morass, + great river or jungle could stop him. He would have welcomed them. In many + respects they were the friends of a crafty messenger. But that was an open + beach, and there was no other way, and as things stood now every bush + around, every tree trunk, every deep shadow of house or fence would + conceal Tengga's men or such of Daman's infuriated partisans as had + already made their way to the Settlement. How could he hope to traverse + the distance between the water's edge and Belarab's gate which now would + remain shut night and day? Not only himself but anybody from the Emma + would be sure to be rushed upon and speared in twenty places. + </p> + <p> + He reflected for a moment in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Even you, Tuan, could not accomplish the feat.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” muttered Jorgenson. + </p> + <p> + When, after a period of meditation, he looked round, Jaffir was no longer + by his side. He had descended from the high place and was probably + squatting on his heels in some dark nook on the fore deck. Jorgenson knew + Jaffir too well to suppose that he would go to sleep. He would sit there + thinking himself into a state of fury, then get away from the Emma in some + way or other, go ashore and perish fighting. He would, in fact, run amok; + for it looked as if there could be no way out of the situation. Then, of + course, Lingard would know nothing of Hassim and Immada's captivity for + the ring would never reach him—the ring that could tell its own + tale. No, Lingard would know nothing. He would know nothing about anybody + outside Belarab's stockade till the end came, whatever the end might be, + for all those people that lived the life of men. Whether to know or not to + know would be good for Lingard Jorgenson could not tell. He admitted to + himself that here there was something that he, Jorgenson, could not tell. + All the possibilities were wrapped up in doubt, uncertain, like all things + pertaining to the life of men. It was only when giving a short thought to + himself that Jorgenson had no doubt. He, of course, would know what to do. + </p> + <p> + On the thin face of that old adventurer hidden in the night not a feature + moved, not a muscle twitched, as he descended in his turn and walked aft + along the decks of the Emma. His faded eyes, which had seen so much, did + not attempt to explore the night, they never gave a glance to the silent + watchers against whom he brushed. Had a light been flashed on him suddenly + he would have appeared like a man walking in his sleep: the somnambulist + of an eternal dream. Mrs. Travers heard his footsteps pass along the side + of the deckhouse. She heard them—and let her head fall again on her + bare arms thrown over the little desk before which she sat. + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson, standing by the taffrail, noted the faint reddish glow in the + massive blackness of the further shore. Jorgenson noted things quickly, + cursorily, perfunctorily, as phenomena unrelated to his own apparitional + existence of a visiting ghost. They were but passages in the game of men + who were still playing at life. He knew too well how much that game was + worth to be concerned about its course. He had given up the habit of + thinking for so long that the sudden resumption of it irked him + exceedingly, especially as he had to think on toward a conclusion. In that + world of eternal oblivion, of which he had tasted before Lingard made him + step back into the life of men, all things were settled once for all. He + was irritated by his own perplexity which was like a reminder of that + mortality made up of questions and passions from which he had fancied he + had freed himself forever. By a natural association his contemptuous + annoyance embraced the existence of Mrs. Travers, too, for how could he + think of Tom Lingard, of what was good or bad for King Tom, without + thinking also of that woman who had managed to put the ghost of a spark + even into his own extinguished eyes? She was of no account; but Tom's + integrity was. It was of Tom that he had to think, of what was good or bad + for Tom in that absurd and deadly game of his life. Finally he reached the + conclusion that to be given the ring would be good for Tom Lingard. Just + to be given the ring and no more. The ring and no more. + </p> + <p> + “It will help him to make up his mind,” muttered Jorgenson in his + moustache, as if compelled by an obscure conviction. It was only then that + he stirred slightly and turned away from the loom of the fires on the + distant shore. Mrs. Travers heard his footsteps passing again along the + side of the deckhouse—and this time never raised her head. That man + was sleepless, mad, childish, and inflexible. He was impossible. He + haunted the decks of that hulk aimlessly. . . . + </p> + <p> + It was, however, in pursuance of a very distinct aim that Jorgenson had + gone forward again to seek Jaffir. + </p> + <p> + The first remark he had to offer to Jaffir's consideration was that the + only person in the world who had the remotest chance of reaching Belarab's + gate on that night was that tall white woman the Rajah Laut had brought on + board, the wife of one of the captive white chiefs. Surprise made Jaffir + exclaim, but he wasn't prepared to deny that. It was possible that for + many reasons, some quite simple and others very subtle, those sons of the + Evil One belonging to Tengga and Daman would refrain from killing a white + woman walking alone from the water's edge to Belarab's gate. Yes, it was + just possible that she might walk unharmed. + </p> + <p> + “Especially if she carried a blazing torch,” muttered Jorgenson in his + moustache. He told Jaffir that she was sitting now in the dark, mourning + silently in the manner of white women. She had made a great outcry in the + morning to be allowed to join the white men on shore. He, Jorgenson, had + refused her the canoe. Ever since she had secluded herself in the + deckhouse in great distress. + </p> + <p> + Jaffir listened to it all without particular sympathy. And when Jorgenson + added, “It is in my mind, O Jaffir, to let her have her will now,” he + answered by a “Yes, by Allah! let her go. What does it matter?” of the + greatest unconcern, till Jorgenson added: + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And she may carry the ring to the Rajah Laut.” + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson saw Jaffir, the grim and impassive Jaffir, give a perceptible + start. It seemed at first an impossible task to persuade Jaffir to part + with the ring. The notion was too monstrous to enter his mind, to move his + heart. But at last he surrendered in an awed whisper, “God is great. + Perhaps it is her destiny.” + </p> + <p> + Being a Wajo man he did not regard women as untrustworthy or unequal to a + task requiring courage and judgment. Once he got over the personal feeling + he handed the ring to Jorgenson with only one reservation, “You know, + Tuan, that she must on no account put it on her finger.” + </p> + <p> + “Let her hang it round her neck,” suggested Jorgenson, readily. + </p> + <p> + As Jorgenson moved toward the deckhouse it occurred to him that perhaps + now that woman Tom Lingard had taken in tow might take it into her head to + refuse to leave the Emma. This did not disturb him very much. All those + people moved in the dark. He himself at that particular moment was moving + in the dark. Beyond the simple wish to guide Lingard's thought in the + direction of Hassim and Immada, to help him to make up his mind at last to + a ruthless fidelity to his purpose Jorgenson had no other aim. The + existence of those whites had no meaning on earth. They were the sort of + people that pass without leaving footprints. That woman would have to act + in ignorance. And if she refused to go then in ignorance she would have to + stay on board. He would tell her nothing. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, he discovered that Mrs. Travers would simply have + nothing to do with him. She would not listen to what he had to say. She + desired him, a mere weary voice confined in the darkness of the deck + cabin, to go away and trouble her no more. But the ghost of Jorgenson was + not easily exorcised. He, too, was a mere voice in the outer darkness, + inexorable, insisting that she should come out on deck and listen. At last + he found the right words to say. + </p> + <p> + “It is something about Tom that I want to tell you. You wish him well, + don't you?” + </p> + <p> + After this she could not refuse to come out on deck, and once there she + listened patiently to that white ghost muttering and mumbling above her + drooping head. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me, Captain Jorgenson,” she said after he had ceased, “that + you are simply trifling with me. After your behaviour to me this morning, + I can have nothing to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a canoe for you now,” mumbled Jorgenson. + </p> + <p> + “You have some new purpose in view now,” retorted Mrs. Travers with + spirit. “But you won't make it clear to me. What is it that you have in + your mind?” + </p> + <p> + “Tom's interest.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you really his friend?” + </p> + <p> + “He brought me here. You know it. He has talked a lot to you.” + </p> + <p> + “He did. But I ask myself whether you are capable of being anybody's + friend.” + </p> + <p> + “You ask yourself!” repeated Jorgenson, very quiet and morose. “If I am + not his friend I should like to know who is.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers asked, quickly: “What's all this about a ring? What ring?” + </p> + <p> + “Tom's property. He has had it for years.” + </p> + <p> + “And he gave it to you? Doesn't he care for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know. It's just a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “But it has a meaning as between you and him. Is that so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It has. He will know what it means.” + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I am too much his friend not to hold my tongue.” + </p> + <p> + “What! To me!” + </p> + <p> + “And who are you?” was Jorgenson's unexpected remark. “He has told you too + much already.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he has,” whispered Mrs. Travers, as if to herself. “And you want + that ring to be taken to him?” she asked, in a louder tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. At once. For his good.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you certain it is for his good? Why can't you. . . .” + </p> + <p> + She checked herself. That man was hopeless. He would never tell anything + and there was no means of compelling him. He was invulnerable, + unapproachable. . . . He was dead. + </p> + <p> + “Just give it to him,” mumbled Jorgenson as though pursuing a mere fixed + idea. “Just slip it quietly into his hand. He will understand.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it? Advice, warning, signal for action?” + </p> + <p> + “It may be anything,” uttered Jorgenson, morosely, but as it were in a + mollified tone. “It's meant for his good.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if I only could trust that man!” mused Mrs. Travers, half aloud. + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson's slight noise in the throat might have been taken for an + expression of sympathy. But he remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “Really, this is most extraordinary!” cried Mrs. Travers, suddenly + aroused. “Why did you come to me? Why should it be my task? Why should you + want me specially to take it to him?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you why,” said Jorgenson's blank voice. “It's because there + is no one on board this hulk that can hope to get alive inside that + stockade. This morning you told me yourself that you were ready to die—for + Tom—or with Tom. Well, risk it then. You are the only one that has + half a chance to get through—and Tom, maybe, is waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “The only one,” repeated Mrs. Travers with an abrupt movement forward and + an extended hand before which Jorgenson stepped back a pace. “Risk it! + Certainly! Where's that mysterious ring?” + </p> + <p> + “I have got it in my pocket,” said Jorgenson, readily; yet nearly half a + minute elapsed before Mrs. Travers felt the characteristic shape being + pressed into her half-open palm. “Don't let anybody see it,” Jorgenson + admonished her in a murmur. “Hide it somewhere about you. Why not hang it + round your neck?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers' hand remained firmly closed on the ring. “Yes, that will + do,” she murmured, hastily. “I'll be back in a moment. Get everything + ready.” With those words she disappeared inside the deckhouse and + presently threads of light appeared in the interstices of the boards. Mrs. + Travers had lighted a candle in there. She was busy hanging that ring + round her neck. She was going. Yes—taking the risk for Tom's sake. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody can resist that man,” Jorgenson muttered to himself with + increasing moroseness. “<i>I</i> couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + IV + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson, after seeing the canoe leave the ship's side, ceased to live + intellectually. There was no need for more thinking, for any display of + mental ingenuity. He had done with it all. All his notions were perfectly + fixed and he could go over them in the same ghostly way in which he + haunted the deck of the Emma. At the sight of the ring Lingard would + return to Hassim and Immada, now captives, too, though Jorgenson certainly + did not think them in any serious danger. What had happened really was + that Tengga was now holding hostages, and those Jorgenson looked upon as + Lingard's own people. They were his. He had gone in with them deep, very + deep. They had a hold and a claim on King Tom just as many years ago + people of that very race had had a hold and a claim on him, Jorgenson. + Only Tom was a much bigger man. A very big man. Nevertheless, Jorgenson + didn't see why he should escape his own fate—Jorgenson's fate—to + be absorbed, captured, made their own either in failure or in success. It + was an unavoidable fatality and Jorgenson felt certain that the ring would + compel Lingard to face it without flinching. What he really wanted Lingard + to do was to cease to take the slightest interest in those whites—who + were the sort of people that left no footprints. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps at first sight, sending that woman to Lingard was not the best way + toward that end. Jorgenson, however, had a distinct impression in which + his morning talk with Mrs. Travers had only confirmed him, that those two + had quarrelled for good. As, indeed, was unavoidable. What did Tom Lingard + want with any woman? The only woman in Jorgenson's life had come in by way + of exchange for a lot of cotton stuffs and several brass guns. This fact + could not but affect Jorgenson's judgment since obviously in this case + such a transaction was impossible. Therefore the case was not serious. It + didn't exist. What did exist was Lingard's relation to the Wajo exiles, a + great and warlike adventure such as no rover in those seas had ever + attempted. + </p> + <p> + That Tengga was much more ready to negotiate than to fight, the old + adventurer had not the slightest doubt. How Lingard would deal with him + was not a concern of Jorgenson's. That would be easy enough. Nothing + prevented Lingard from going to see Tengga and talking to him with + authority. All that ambitious person really wanted was to have a share in + Lingard's wealth, in Lingard's power, in Lingard's friendship. A year + before Tengga had once insinuated to Jorgenson, “In what way am I less + worthy of being a friend than Belarab?” + </p> + <p> + It was a distinct overture, a disclosure of the man's innermost mind. + Jorgenson, of course, had met it with a profound silence. His task was not + diplomacy but the care of stores. + </p> + <p> + After the effort of connected mental processes in order to bring about + Mrs. Travers' departure he was anxious to dismiss the whole matter from + his mind. The last thought he gave to it was severely practical. It + occurred to him that it would be advisable to attract in some way or other + Lingard's attention to the lagoon. In the language of the sea a single + rocket is properly a signal of distress, but, in the circumstances, a + group of three sent up simultaneously would convey a warning. He gave his + orders and watched the rockets go up finely with a trail of red sparks, a + bursting of white stars high up in the air, and three loud reports in + quick succession. Then he resumed his pacing of the whole length of the + hulk, confident that after this Tom would guess that something was up and + set a close watch over the lagoon. No doubt these mysterious rockets would + have a disturbing effect on Tengga and his friends and cause a great + excitement in the Settlement; but for that Jorgenson did not care. The + Settlement was already in such a turmoil that a little more excitement did + not matter. What Jorgenson did not expect, however, was the sound of a + musket-shot fired from the jungle facing the bows of the Emma. It caused + him to stop dead short. He had heard distinctly the bullet strike the + curve of the bow forward. “Some hot-headed ass fired that,” he said to + himself, contemptuously. It simply disclosed to him the fact that he was + already besieged on the shore side and set at rest his doubts as to the + length Tengga was prepared to go. Any length! Of course there was still + time for Tom to put everything right with six words, unless . . . + Jorgenson smiled, grimly, in the dark and resumed his tireless pacing. + </p> + <p> + What amused him was to observe the fire which had been burning night and + day before Tengga's residence suddenly extinguished. He pictured to + himself the wild rush with bamboo buckets to the lagoon shore, the + confusion, the hurry and jostling in a great hissing of water midst clouds + of steam. The image of the fat Tengga's consternation appealed to + Jorgenson's sense of humour for about five seconds. Then he took up the + binoculars from the roof of the deckhouse. + </p> + <p> + The bursting of the three white stars over the lagoon had given him a + momentary glimpse of the black speck of the canoe taking over Mrs. + Travers. He couldn't find it again with the glass, it was too dark; but + the part of the shore for which it was steered would be somewhere near the + angle of Belarab's stockade nearest to the beach. This Jorgenson could + make out in the faint rosy glare of fires burning inside. Jorgenson was + certain that Lingard was looking toward the Emma through the most + convenient loophole he could find. + </p> + <p> + As obviously Mrs. Travers could not have paddled herself across, two men + were taking her over; and for the steersman she had Jaffir. Though he had + assented to Jorgenson's plan Jaffir was anxious to accompany the ring as + near as possible to its destination. Nothing but dire necessity had + induced him to part with the talisman. Crouching in the stern and + flourishing his paddle from side to side he glared at the back of the + canvas deck-chair which had been placed in the middle for Mrs. Travers. + Wrapped up in the darkness she reclined in it with her eyes closed, + faintly aware of the ring hung low on her breast. As the canoe was rather + large it was moving very slowly. The two men dipped their paddles without + a splash: and surrendering herself passively, in a temporary relaxation of + all her limbs, to this adventure Mrs. Travers had no sense of motion at + all. She, too, like Jorgenson, was tired of thinking. She abandoned + herself to the silence of that night full of roused passions and deadly + purposes. She abandoned herself to an illusory feeling; to the impression + that she was really resting. For the first time in many days she could + taste the relief of being alone. The men with her were less than nothing. + She could not speak to them; she could not understand them; the canoe + might have been moving by enchantment—if it did move at all. Like a + half-conscious sleeper she was on the verge of saying to herself, “What a + strange dream I am having.” + </p> + <p> + The low tones of Jaffir's voice stole into it quietly telling the men to + cease paddling, and the long canoe came to a rest slowly, no more than ten + yards from the beach. The party had been provided with a torch which was + to be lighted before the canoe touched the shore, thus giving a character + of openness to this desperate expedition. “And if it draws fire on us,” + Jaffir had commented to Jorgenson, “well, then, we shall see whose fate it + is to die on this night.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” had muttered Jorgenson. “We shall see.” + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson saw at last the small light of the torch against the blackness + of the stockade. He strained his hearing for a possible volley of musketry + fire but no sound came to him over the broad surface of the lagoon. Over + there the man with the torch, the other paddler, and Jaffir himself + impelling with a gentle motion of his paddle the canoe toward the shore, + had the glistening eyeballs and the tense faces of silent excitement. The + ruddy glare smote Mrs. Travers' closed eyelids but she didn't open her + eyes till she felt the canoe touch the strand. The two men leaped + instantly out of it. Mrs. Travers rose, abruptly. Nobody made a sound. She + stumbled out of the canoe on to the beach and almost before she had + recovered her balance the torch was thrust into her hand. The heat, the + nearness of the blaze confused and blinded her till, instinctively, she + raised the torch high above her head. For a moment she stood still, + holding aloft the fierce flame from which a few sparks were falling + slowly. + </p> + <p> + A naked bronze arm lighted from above pointed out the direction and Mrs. + Travers began to walk toward the featureless black mass of the stockade. + When after a few steps she looked back over her shoulder, the lagoon, the + beach, the canoe, the men she had just left had become already invisible. + She was alone bearing up a blazing torch on an earth that was a dumb + shadow shifting under her feet. At last she reached firmer ground and the + dark length of the palisade untouched as yet by the light of the torch + seemed to her immense, intimidating. She felt ready to drop from sheer + emotion. But she moved on. + </p> + <p> + “A little more to the left,” shouted a strong voice. + </p> + <p> + It vibrated through all her fibres, rousing like the call of a trumpet, + went far beyond her, filled all the space. Mrs. Travers stood still for a + moment, then casting far away from her the burning torch ran forward + blindly with her hands extended toward the great sound of Lingard's voice, + leaving behind her the light flaring and spluttering on the ground. She + stumbled and was only saved from a fall by her hands coming in contact + with the rough stakes. The stockade rose high above her head and she clung + to it with widely open arms, pressing her whole body against the rugged + surface of that enormous and unscalable palisade. She heard through it low + voices inside, heavy thuds; and felt at every blow a slight vibration of + the ground under her feet. She glanced fearfully over her shoulder and saw + nothing in the darkness but the expiring glow of the torch she had thrown + away and the sombre shimmer of the lagoon bordering the opaque darkness of + the shore. Her strained eyeballs seemed to detect mysterious movements in + the darkness and she gave way to irresistible terror, to a shrinking agony + of apprehension. Was she to be transfixed by a broad blade, to the high, + immovable wall of wood against which she was flattening herself + desperately, as though she could hope to penetrate it by the mere force of + her fear? She had no idea where she was, but as a matter of fact she was a + little to the left of the principal gate and almost exactly under one of + the loopholes of the stockade. Her excessive anguish passed into + insensibility. She ceased to hear, to see, and even to feel the contact of + the surface to which she clung. Lingard's voice somewhere from the sky + above her head was directing her, distinct, very close, full of concern. + </p> + <p> + “You must stoop low. Lower yet.” + </p> + <p> + The stagnant blood of her body began to pulsate languidly. She stooped low—lower + yet—so low that she had to sink on her knees, and then became aware + of a faint smell of wood smoke mingled with the confused murmur of + agitated voices. This came to her through an opening no higher than her + head in her kneeling posture, and no wider than the breadth of two stakes. + Lingard was saying in a tone of distress: + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't get any of them to unbar the gate.” + </p> + <p> + She was unable to make a sound.—“Are you there?” Lingard asked, + anxiously, so close to her now that she seemed to feel the very breath of + his words on her face. It revived her completely; she understood what she + had to do. She put her head and shoulders through the opening, was at once + seized under the arms by an eager grip and felt herself pulled through + with an irresistible force and with such haste that her scarf was dragged + off her head, its fringes having caught in the rough timber. The same + eager grip lifted her up, stood her on her feet without her having to make + any exertion toward that end. She became aware that Lingard was trying to + say something, but she heard only a confused stammering expressive of + wonder and delight in which she caught the words “You . . . you . . .” + deliriously repeated. He didn't release his hold of her; his helpful and + irresistible grip had changed into a close clasp, a crushing embrace, the + violent taking possession by an embodied force that had broken loose and + was not to be controlled any longer. As his great voice had done a moment + before, his great strength, too, seemed able to fill all space in its + enveloping and undeniable authority. Every time she tried instinctively to + stiffen herself against its might, it reacted, affirming its fierce will, + its uplifting power. Several times she lost the feeling of the ground and + had a sensation of helplessness without fear, of triumph without + exultation. The inevitable had come to pass. She had foreseen it—and + all the time in that dark place and against the red glow of camp fires + within the stockade the man in whose arms she struggled remained shadowy + to her eyes—to her half-closed eyes. She thought suddenly, “He will + crush me to death without knowing it.” + </p> + <p> + He was like a blind force. She closed her eyes altogether. Her head fell + back a little. Not instinctively but with wilful resignation and as it + were from a sense of justice she abandoned herself to his arms. The effect + was as though she had suddenly stabbed him to the heart. He let her go so + suddenly and completely that she would have fallen down in a heap if she + had not managed to catch hold of his forearm. He seemed prepared for it + and for a moment all her weight hung on it without moving its rigidity by + a hair's breadth. Behind her Mrs. Travers heard the heavy thud of blows on + wood, the confused murmurs and movements of men. + </p> + <p> + A voice said suddenly, “It's done,” with such emphasis that though, of + course, she didn't understand the words it helped her to regain possession + of herself; and when Lingard asked her very little above a whisper: “Why + don't you say something?” she answered readily, “Let me get my breath + first.” + </p> + <p> + Round them all sounds had ceased. The men had secured again the opening + through which those arms had snatched her into a moment of + self-forgetfulness which had left her out of breath but uncrushed. As if + something imperative had been satisfied she had a moment of inward + serenity, a period of peace without thought while, holding to that arm + that trembled no more than an arm of iron, she felt stealthily over the + ground for one of the sandals which she had lost. Oh, yes, there was no + doubt of it, she had been carried off the earth, without shame, without + regret. But she would not have let him know of that dropped sandal for + anything in the world. That lost sandal was as symbolic as a dropped veil. + But he did not know of it. He must never know. Where was that thing? She + felt sure that they had not moved an inch from that spot. Presently her + foot found it and still gripping Lingard's forearm she stooped to secure + it properly. When she stood up, still holding his arm, they confronted + each other, he rigid in an effort of self-command but feeling as if the + surges of the heaviest sea that he could remember in his life were running + through his heart; and the woman as if emptied of all feeling by her + experience, without thought yet, but beginning to regain her sense of the + situation and the memory of the immediate past. + </p> + <p> + “I have been watching at that loophole for an hour, ever since they came + running to me with that story of the rockets,” said Lingard. “I was shut + up with Belarab then. I was looking out when the torch blazed and you + stepped ashore. I thought I was dreaming. But what could I do? I felt I + must rush to you but I dared not. That clump of palms is full of men. So + are the houses you saw that time you came ashore with me. Full of men. + Armed men. A trigger is soon pulled and when once shooting begins. . . . + And you walking in the open with that light above your head! I didn't + dare. You were safer alone. I had the strength to hold myself in and watch + you come up from the shore. No! No man that ever lived had seen such a + sight. What did you come for?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you expect somebody? I don't mean me, I mean a messenger?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Lingard, wondering at his own self-control. “Why did he let you + come?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Captain Jorgenson? Oh, he refused at first. He said that he had + your orders.” + </p> + <p> + “How on earth did you manage to get round him?” said Lingard in his + softest tones. + </p> + <p> + “I did not try,” she began and checked herself. Lingard's question, though + he really didn't seem to care much about an answer, had aroused afresh her + suspicion of Jorgenson's change of front. “I didn't have to say very much + at the last,” she continued, gasping yet a little and feeling her + personality, crushed to nothing in the hug of those arms, expand again to + its full significance before the attentive immobility of that man. + “Captain Jorgenson has always looked upon me as a nuisance. Perhaps he had + made up his mind to get rid of me even against your orders. Is he quite + sane?” + </p> + <p> + She released her firm hold of that iron forearm which fell slowly by + Lingard's side. She had regained fully the possession of her personality. + There remained only a fading, slightly breathless impression of a short + flight above that earth on which her feet were firmly planted now. “And is + that all?” she asked herself, not bitterly, but with a sort of tender + contempt. + </p> + <p> + “He is so sane,” sounded Lingard's voice, gloomily, “that if I had + listened to him you would not have found me here.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by here? In this stockade?” + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And what would have happened then?” + </p> + <p> + “God knows,” he answered. “What would have happened if the world had not + been made in seven days? I have known you for just about that time. It + began by me coming to you at night—like a thief in the night. Where + the devil did I hear that? And that man you are married to thinks I am no + better than a thief.” + </p> + <p> + “It ought to be enough for you that I never made a mistake as to what you + are, that I come to you in less than twenty-four hours after you left me + contemptuously to my distress. Don't pretend you didn't hear me call after + you. Oh, yes, you heard. The whole ship heard me for I had no shame.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you came,” said Lingard, violently. “But have you really come? I + can't believe my eyes! Are you really here?” + </p> + <p> + “This is a dark spot, luckily,” said Mrs. Travers. “But can you really + have any doubt?” she added, significantly. + </p> + <p> + He made a sudden movement toward her, betraying so much passion that Mrs. + Travers thought, “I shan't come out alive this time,” and yet he was + there, motionless before her, as though he had never stirred. It was more + as though the earth had made a sudden movement under his feet without + being able to destroy his balance. But the earth under Mrs. Travers' feet + had made no movement and for a second she was overwhelmed by wonder not at + this proof of her own self-possession but at the man's immense power over + himself. If it had not been for her strange inward exhaustion she would + perhaps have surrendered to that power. But it seemed to her that she had + nothing in her worth surrendering, and it was in a perfectly even tone + that she said, “Give me your arm, Captain Lingard. We can't stay all night + on this spot.” + </p> + <p> + As they moved on she thought, “There is real greatness in that man.” He + was great even in his behaviour. No apologies, no explanations, no + abasement, no violence, and not even the slightest tremor of the frame + holding that bold and perplexed soul. She knew that for certain because + her fingers were resting lightly on Lingard's arm while she walked slowly + by his side as though he were taking her down to dinner. And yet she + couldn't suppose for a moment, that, like herself, he was emptied of all + emotion. She never before was so aware of him as a dangerous force. “He is + really ruthless,” she thought. They had just left the shadow of the inner + defences about the gate when a slightly hoarse, apologetic voice was heard + behind them repeating insistently, what even Mrs. Travers' ear detected to + be a sort of formula. The words were: “There is this thing—there is + this thing—there is this thing.” They turned round. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my scarf,” said Mrs. Travers. + </p> + <p> + A short, squat, broad-faced young fellow having for all costume a pair of + white drawers was offering the scarf thrown over both his arms, as if they + had been sticks, and holding it respectfully as far as possible from his + person. Lingard took it from him and Mrs. Travers claimed it at once. + “Don't forget the proprieties,” she said. “This is also my face veil.” + </p> + <p> + She was arranging it about her head when Lingard said, “There is no need. + I am taking you to those gentlemen.”—“I will use it all the same,” + said Mrs. Travers. “This thing works both ways, as a matter of propriety + or as a matter of precaution. Till I have an opportunity of looking into a + mirror nothing will persuade me that there isn't some change in my face.” + Lingard swung half round and gazed down at her. Veiled now she confronted + him boldly. “Tell me, Captain Lingard, how many eyes were looking at us a + little while ago?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you care?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least,” she said. “A million stars were looking on, too, and + what did it matter? They were not of the world I know. And it's just the + same with the eyes. They are not of the world I live in.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard thought: “Nobody is.” Never before had she seemed to him more + unapproachable, more different and more remote. The glow of a number of + small fires lighted the ground only, and brought out the black bulk of men + lying down in the thin drift of smoke. Only one of these fires, rather + apart and burning in front of the house which was the quarter of the + prisoners, might have been called a blaze and even that was not a great + one. It didn't penetrate the dark space between the piles and the depth of + the verandah above where only a couple of heads and the glint of a + spearhead could be seen dimly in the play of the light. But down on the + ground outside, the black shape of a man seated on a bench had an intense + relief. Another intensely black shadow threw a handful of brushwood on the + fire and went away. The man on the bench got up. It was d'Alcacer. He let + Lingard and Mrs. Travers come quite close up to him. Extreme surprise + seemed to have made him dumb. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't expect . . .” began Mrs. Travers with some embarrassment + before that mute attitude. + </p> + <p> + “I doubted my eyes,” struck in d'Alcacer, who seemed embarrassed, too. + Next moment he recovered his tone and confessed simply: “At the moment I + wasn't thinking of you, Mrs. Travers.” He passed his hand over his + forehead. “I hardly know what I was thinking of.” + </p> + <p> + In the light of the shooting-up flame Mrs. Travers could see d'Alcacer's + face. There was no smile on it. She could not remember ever seeing him so + grave and, as it were, so distant. She abandoned Lingard's arm and moved + closer to the fire. + </p> + <p> + “I fancy you were very far away, Mr. d'Alcacer,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “This is the sort of freedom of which nothing can deprive us,” he + observed, looking hard at the manner in which the scarf was drawn across + Mrs. Travers' face. “It's possible I was far away,” he went on, “but I can + assure you that I don't know where I was. Less than an hour ago we had a + great excitement here about some rockets, but I didn't share in it. There + was no one I could ask a question of. The captain here was, I understood, + engaged in a most momentous conversation with the king or the governor of + this place.” + </p> + <p> + He addressed Lingard, directly. “May I ask whether you have reached any + conclusion as yet? That Moor is a very dilatory person, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Any direct attack he would, of course, resist,” said Lingard. “And, so + far, you are protected. But I must admit that he is rather angry with me. + He's tired of the whole business. He loves peace above anything in the + world. But I haven't finished with him yet.” + </p> + <p> + “As far as I understood from what you told me before,” said Mr. d'Alcacer, + with a quick side glance at Mrs. Travers' uncovered and attentive eyes, + “as far as I can see he may get all the peace he wants at once by driving + us two, I mean Mr. Travers and myself, out of the gate on to the spears of + those other enraged barbarians. And there are some of his counsellors who + advise him to do that very thing no later than the break of day I + understand.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard stood for a moment perfectly motionless. + </p> + <p> + “That's about it,” he said in an unemotional tone, and went away with a + heavy step without giving another look at d'Alcacer and Mrs. Travers, who + after a moment faced each other. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard?” said d'Alcacer. “Of course that doesn't affect your fate + in any way, and as to him he is much too prestigious to be killed + light-heartedly. When all this is over you will walk triumphantly on his + arm out of this stockade; for there is nothing in all this to affect his + greatness, his absolute value in the eyes of those people—and indeed + in any other eyes.” D'Alcacer kept his glance averted from Mrs. Travers + and as soon as he had finished speaking busied himself in dragging the + bench a little way further from the fire. When they sat down on it he kept + his distance from Mrs. Travers. She made no sign of unveiling herself and + her eyes without a face seemed to him strangely unknown and disquieting. + </p> + <p> + “The situation in a nutshell,” she said. “You have arranged it all + beautifully, even to my triumphal exit. Well, and what then? No, you + needn't answer, it has no interest. I assure you I came here not with any + notion of marching out in triumph, as you call it. I came here, to speak + in the most vulgar way, to save your skin—and mine.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice came muffled to d'Alcacer's ears with a changed character, even + to the very intonation. Above the white and embroidered scarf her eyes in + the firelight transfixed him, black and so steady that even the red sparks + of the reflected glare did not move in them. He concealed the strong + impression she made. He bowed his head a little. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you know perfectly well what you are doing.” + </p> + <p> + “No! I don't know,” she said, more quickly than he had ever heard her + speak before. “First of all, I don't think he is so safe as you imagine. + Oh, yes, he has prestige enough, I don't question that. But you are + apportioning life and death with too much assurance. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I know my portion,” murmured d'Alcacer, gently. A moment of silence fell + in which Mrs. Travers' eyes ended by intimidating d'Alcacer, who looked + away. The flame of the fire had sunk low. In the dark agglomeration of + buildings, which might have been called Belarab's palace, there was a + certain animation, a flitting of people, voices calling and answering, the + passing to and fro of lights that would illuminate suddenly a heavy pile, + the corner of a house, the eaves of a low-pitched roof, while in the open + parts of the stockade the armed men slept by the expiring fires. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers said, suddenly, “That Jorgenson is not friendly to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly.” + </p> + <p> + With clasped hands and leaning over his knees d'Alcacer had assented in a + very low tone. Mrs. Travers, unobserved, pressed her hands to her breast + and felt the shape of the ring, thick, heavy, set with a big stone. It was + there, secret, hung against her heart, and enigmatic. What did it mean? + What could it mean? What was the feeling it could arouse or the action it + could provoke? And she thought with compunction that she ought to have + given it to Lingard at once, without thinking, without hesitating. “There! + This is what I came for. To give you this.” Yes, but there had come an + interval when she had been able to think of nothing, and since then she + had had the time to reflect—unfortunately. To remember Jorgenson's + hostile, contemptuous glance enveloping her from head to foot at the break + of a day after a night of lonely anguish. And now while she sat there + veiled from his keen sight there was that other man, that d'Alcacer, + prophesying. O yes, triumphant. She knew already what that was. Mrs. + Travers became afraid of the ring. She felt ready to pluck it from her + neck and cast it away. + </p> + <p> + “I mistrust him,” she said.—“You do!” exclaimed d'Alcacer, very low.—“I + mean that Jorgenson. He seems a merciless sort of creature.”—“He is + indifferent to everything,” said d'Alcacer.—“It may be a mask.”—“Have + you some evidence, Mrs. Travers?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mrs. Travers without hesitation. “I have my instinct.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer remained silent for a while as though he were pursuing another + train of thought altogether, then in a gentle, almost playful tone: “If I + were a woman,” he said, turning to Mrs. Travers, “I would always trust my + intuition.”—“If you were a woman, Mr. d'Alcacer, I would not be + speaking to you in this way because then I would be suspect to you.” + </p> + <p> + The thought that before long perhaps he would be neither man nor woman but + a lump of cold clay, crossed d'Alcacer's mind, which was living, alert, + and unsubdued by the danger. He had welcomed the arrival of Mrs. Travers + simply because he had been very lonely in that stockade, Mr. Travers + having fallen into a phase of sulks complicated with shivering fits. Of + Lingard d'Alcacer had seen almost nothing since they had landed, for the + Man of Fate was extremely busy negotiating in the recesses of Belarab's + main hut; and the thought that his life was being a matter of arduous + bargaining was not agreeable to Mr. d'Alcacer. The Chief's dependents and + the armed men garrisoning the stockade paid very little attention to him + apparently, and this gave him the feeling of his captivity being very + perfect and hopeless. During the afternoon, while pacing to and fro in the + bit of shade thrown by the glorified sort of hut inside which Mr. Travers + shivered and sulked misanthropically, he had been aware of the more + distant verandahs becoming filled now and then by the muffled forms of + women of Belarab's household taking a distant and curious view of the + white man. All this was irksome. He found his menaced life extremely + difficult to get through. Yes, he welcomed the arrival of Mrs. Travers who + brought with her a tragic note into the empty gloom. + </p> + <p> + “Suspicion is not in my nature, Mrs. Travers, I assure you, and I hope + that you on your side will never suspect either my reserve or my + frankness. I respect the mysterious nature of your conviction but hasn't + Jorgenson given you some occasion to. . .” + </p> + <p> + “He hates me,” said Mrs. Travers, and frowned at d'Alcacer's incipient + smile. “It isn't a delusion on my part. The worst is that he hates me not + for myself. I believe he is completely indifferent to my existence. + Jorgenson hates me because as it were I represent you two who are in + danger, because it is you two that are the trouble and I . . . Well!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, that's certain,” said d'Alcacer, hastily. “But Jorgenson is + wrong in making you the scapegoat. For if you were not here cool reason + would step in and would make Lingard pause in his passion to make a king + out of an exile. If we were murdered it would certainly make some stir in + the world in time and he would fall under the suspicion of complicity with + those wild and inhuman Moors. Who would regard the greatness of his + day-dreams, his engaged honour, his chivalrous feelings? Nothing could + save him from that suspicion. And being what he is, you understand me, + Mrs. Travers (but you know him much better than I do), it would morally + kill him.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens!” whispered Mrs. Travers. “This has never occurred to me.” Those + words seemed to lose themselves in the folds of the scarf without reaching + d'Alcacer, who continued in his gentle tone: + </p> + <p> + '“However, as it is, he will be safe enough whatever happens. He will have + your testimony to clear him.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers stood up, suddenly, but still careful to keep her face + covered, she threw the end of the scarf over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I fear that Jorgenson,” she cried with suppressed passion. “One can't + understand what that man means to do. I think him so dangerous that if I + were, for instance, entrusted with a message bearing on the situation, I + would . . . suppress it.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer was looking up from the seat, full of wonder. Mrs. Travers + appealed to him in a calm voice through the folds of the scarf: + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Mr. d'Alcacer, you who can look on it calmly, wouldn't I be + right?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, has Jorgenson told you anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Directly—nothing, except a phrase or two which really I could not + understand. They seemed to have a hidden sense and he appeared to attach + some mysterious importance to them that he dared not explain to me.” + </p> + <p> + “That was a risk on his part,” exclaimed d'Alcacer. “And he trusted you. + Why you, I wonder!” + </p> + <p> + “Who can tell what notions he has in his head? Mr. d'Alcacer, I believe + his only object is to call Captain Lingard away from us. I understood it + only a few minutes ago. It has dawned upon me. All he wants is to call him + off.” + </p> + <p> + “Call him off,” repeated d'Alcacer, a little bewildered by the aroused + fire of her conviction. “I am sure I don't want him called off any more + than you do; and, frankly, I don't believe Jorgenson has any such power. + But upon the whole, and if you feel that Jorgenson has the power, I would—yes, + if I were in your place I think I would suppress anything I could not + understand.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers listened to the very end. Her eyes—they appeared + incredibly sombre to d'Alcacer—seemed to watch the fall of every + deliberate word and after he had ceased they remained still for an + appreciable time. Then she turned away with a gesture that seemed to say: + “So be it.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer raised his voice suddenly after her. “Stay! Don't forget that + not only your husband's but my head, too, is being played at that game. My + judgment is not . . .” + </p> + <p> + She stopped for a moment and freed her lips. In the profound stillness of + the courtyard her clear voice made the shadows at the nearest fires stir a + little with low murmurs of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I remember whose heads I have to save,” she cried. “But in all + the world who is there to save that man from himself?” + </p> + <p> + V + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer sat down on the bench again. “I wonder what she knows,” he + thought, “and I wonder what I have done.” He wondered also how far he had + been sincere and how far affected by a very natural aversion from being + murdered obscurely by ferocious Moors with all the circumstances of + barbarity. It was a very naked death to come upon one suddenly. It was + robbed of all helpful illusions, such as the free will of a suicide, the + heroism of a warrior, or the exaltation of a martyr. “Hadn't I better make + some sort of fight of it?” he debated with himself. He saw himself rushing + at the naked spears without any enthusiasm. Or wouldn't it be better to go + forth to meet his doom (somewhere outside the stockade on that horrible + beach) with calm dignity. “Pah! I shall be probably speared through the + back in the beastliest possible fashion,” he thought with an inward + shudder. It was certainly not a shudder of fear, for Mr. d'Alcacer + attached no high value to life. It was a shudder of disgust because Mr. + d'Alcacer was a civilized man and though he had no illusions about + civilization he could not but admit the superiority of its methods. It + offered to one a certain refinement of form, a comeliness of proceedings + and definite safeguards against deadly surprises. “How idle all this is,” + he thought, finally. His next thought was that women were very + resourceful. It was true, he went on meditating with unwonted cynicism, + that strictly speaking they had only one resource but, generally, it + served—it served. + </p> + <p> + He was surprised by his supremely shameless bitterness at this juncture. + It was so uncalled for. This situation was too complicated to be entrusted + to a cynical or shameless hope. There was nothing to trust to. At this + moment of his meditation he became aware of Lingard's approach. He raised + his head eagerly. D'Alcacer was not indifferent to his fate and even to + Mr. Travers' fate. He would fain learn. . . . But one look at Lingard's + face was enough. “It's no use asking him anything,” he said to himself, + “for he cares for nothing just now.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard sat down heavily on the other end of the bench, and d'Alcacer, + looking at his profile, confessed to himself that this was the most + masculinely good-looking face he had ever seen in his life. It was an + expressive face, too, but its present expression was also beyond + d'Alcacer's past experience. At the same time its quietness set up a + barrier against common curiosities and even common fears. No, it was no + use asking him anything. Yet something should be said to break the spell, + to call down again this man to the earth. But it was Lingard who spoke + first. “Where has Mrs. Travers gone?” + </p> + <p> + “She has gone . . . where naturally she would be anxious to go first of + all since she has managed to come to us,” answered d'Alcacer, wording his + answer with the utmost regard for the delicacy of the situation. + </p> + <p> + The stillness of Lingard seemed to have grown even more impressive. He + spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what those two can have to say to each other.” + </p> + <p> + He might have been asking that of the whole darkened part of the globe, + but it was d'Alcacer who answered in his courteous tones. + </p> + <p> + “Would it surprise you very much, Captain Lingard, if I were to tell you + that those two people are quite fit to understand each other thoroughly? + Yes? It surprises you! Well, I assure you that seven thousand miles from + here nobody would wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I understand,” said Lingard, “but don't you know the man is + light-headed? A man like that is as good as mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he had been slightly delirious since seven o'clock,” said d'Alcacer. + “But believe me, Captain Lingard,” he continued, earnestly, and obeying a + perfectly disinterested impulse, “that even in his delirium he is far more + understandable to her and better able to understand her than . . . anybody + within a hundred miles from here.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Lingard without any emotion, “so you don't wonder. You don't + see any reason for wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “No, for, don't you see, I do know.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Men and women, Captain Lingard, which you. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know any woman.” + </p> + <p> + “You have spoken the strictest truth there,” said d'Alcacer, and for the + first time Lingard turned his head slowly and looked at his neighbour on + the bench. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think she is as good as mad, too?” asked Lingard in a startled + voice. + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer let escape a low exclamation. No, certainly he did not think so. + It was an original notion to suppose that lunatics had a sort of common + logic which made them understandable to each other. D'Alcacer tried to + make his voice as gentle as possible while he pursued: “No, Captain + Lingard, I believe the woman of whom we speak is and will always remain in + the fullest possession of herself.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard, leaning back, clasped his hands round his knees. He seemed not to + be listening and d'Alcacer, pulling a cigarette case out of his pocket, + looked for a long time at the three cigarettes it contained. It was the + last of the provision he had on him when captured. D'Alcacer had put + himself on the strictest allowance. A cigarette was only to be lighted on + special occasions; and now there were only three left and they had to be + made to last till the end of life. They calmed, they soothed, they gave an + attitude. And only three left! One had to be kept for the morning, to be + lighted before going through the gate of doom—the gate of Belarab's + stockade. A cigarette soothed, it gave an attitude. Was this the fitting + occasion for one of the remaining two? D'Alcacer, a true Latin, was not + afraid of a little introspection. In the pause he descended into the + innermost depths of his being, then glanced up at the night sky. + Sportsman, traveller, he had often looked up at the stars before to see + how time went. It was going very slowly. He took out a cigarette, + snapped-to the case, bent down to the embers. Then he sat up and blew out + a thin cloud of smoke. The man by his side looked with his bowed head and + clasped knee like a masculine rendering of mournful meditation. Such + attitudes are met with sometimes on the sculptures of ancient tombs. + D'Alcacer began to speak: + </p> + <p> + “She is a representative woman and yet one of those of whom there are but + very few at any time in the world. Not that they are very rare but that + there is but little room on top. They are the iridescent gleams on a hard + and dark surface. For the world is hard, Captain Lingard, it is hard, both + in what it will remember and in what it will forget. It is for such women + that people toil on the ground and underground and artists of all sorts + invoke their inspiration.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard seemed not to have heard a word. His chin rested on his breast. + D'Alcacer appraised the remaining length of his cigarette and went on in + an equable tone through which pierced a certain sadness: + </p> + <p> + “No, there are not many of them. And yet they are all. They decorate our + life for us. They are the gracious figures on the drab wall which lies on + this side of our common grave. They lead a sort of ritual dance, that most + of us have agreed to take seriously. It is a very binding agreement with + which sincerity and good faith and honour have nothing to do. Very + binding. Woe to him or her who breaks it. Directly they leave the pageant + they get lost.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard turned his head sharply and discovered d'Alcacer looking at him + with profound attention. + </p> + <p> + “They get lost in a maze,” continued d'Alcacer, quietly. “They wander in + it lamenting over themselves. I would shudder at that fate for anything I + loved. Do you know, Captain Lingard, how people lost in a maze end?” he + went on holding Lingard by a steadfast stare. “No? . . . I will tell you + then. They end by hating their very selves, and they die in disillusion + and despair.” + </p> + <p> + As if afraid of the force of his words d'Alcacer laid a soothing hand + lightly on Lingard's shoulder. But Lingard continued to look into the + embers at his feet and remained insensible to the friendly touch. Yet + d'Alcacer could not imagine that he had not been heard. He folded his arms + on his breast. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know why I have been telling you all this,” he said, + apologetically. “I hope I have not been intruding on your thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “I can think of nothing,” Lingard declared, unexpectedly. “I only know + that your voice was friendly; and for the rest—” + </p> + <p> + “One must get through a night like this somehow,” said d'Alcacer. “The + very stars seem to lag on their way. It's a common belief that a drowning + man is irresistibly compelled to review his past experience. Just now I + feel quite out of my depth, and whatever I have said has come from my + experience. I am sure you will forgive me. All that it amounts to is this: + that it is natural for us to cry for the moon but it would be very fatal + to have our cries heard. For what could any one of us do with the moon if + it were given to him? I am speaking now of us—common mortals.” + </p> + <p> + It was not immediately after d'Alcacer had ceased speaking but only after + a moment that Lingard unclasped his fingers, got up, and walked away. + D'Alcacer followed with a glance of quiet interest the big, shadowy form + till it vanished in the direction of an enormous forest tree left in the + middle of the stockade. The deepest shade of the night was spread over the + ground of Belarab's fortified courtyard. The very embers of the fires had + turned black, showing only here and there a mere spark; and the forms of + the prone sleepers could hardly be distinguished from the hard ground on + which they rested, with their arms lying beside them on the mats. + Presently Mrs. Travers appeared quite close to d'Alcacer, who rose + instantly. + </p> + <p> + “Martin is asleep,” said Mrs. Travers in a tone that seemed to have + borrowed something of the mystery and quietness of the night. + </p> + <p> + “All the world's asleep,” observed d'Alcacer, so low that Mrs. Travers + barely caught the words, “Except you and me, and one other who has left me + to wander about in the night.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he with you? Where has he gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Where it's darkest I should think,” answered d'Alcacer, secretly. “It's + no use going to look for him; but if you keep perfectly still and hold + your breath you may presently hear his footsteps.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he tell you?” breathed out Mrs. Travers. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't ask him anything. I only know that something has happened which + has robbed him of his power of thinking . . . Hadn't I better go to the + hut? Don Martin ought to have someone with him when he wakes up.” Mrs. + Travers remained perfectly still and even now and then held her breath + with a vague fear of hearing those footsteps wandering in the dark. + D'Alcacer had disappeared. Again Mrs. Travers held her breath. No. + Nothing. Not a sound. Only the night to her eyes seemed to have grown + darker. Was that a footstep? “Where could I hide myself?” she thought. But + she didn't move. + </p> + <p> + After leaving d'Alcacer, Lingard threading his way between the fires found + himself under the big tree, the same tree against which Daman had been + leaning on the day of the great talk when the white prisoners had been + surrendered to Lingard's keeping on definite conditions. Lingard passed + through the deep obscurity made by the outspread boughs of the only + witness left there of a past that for endless ages had seen no mankind on + this shore defended by the Shallows, around this lagoon overshadowed by + the jungle. In the calm night the old giant, without shudders or murmurs + in its enormous limbs, saw the restless man drift through the black shade + into the starlight. + </p> + <p> + In that distant part of the courtyard there were only a few sentries who, + themselves invisible, saw Lingard's white figure pace to and fro + endlessly. They knew well who that was. It was the great white man. A very + great man. A very rich man. A possessor of fire-arms, who could dispense + valuable gifts and deal deadly blows, the friend of their Ruler, the enemy + of his enemies, known to them for years and always mysterious. At their + posts, flattened against the stakes near convenient loopholes, they cast + backward glances and exchanged faint whispers from time to time. + </p> + <p> + Lingard might have thought himself alone. He had lost touch with the + world. What he had said to d'Alcacer was perfectly true. He had no + thought. He was in the state of a man who, having cast his eyes through + the open gates of Paradise, is rendered insensible by that moment's vision + to all the forms and matters of the earth; and in the extremity of his + emotion ceases even to look upon himself but as the subject of a sublime + experience which exalts or unfits, sanctifies or damns—he didn't + know which. Every shadowy thought, every passing sensation was like a base + intrusion on that supreme memory. He couldn't bear it. + </p> + <p> + When he had tried to resume his conversation with Belarab after Mrs. + Travers' arrival he had discovered himself unable to go on. He had just + enough self-control to break off the interview in measured terms. He + pointed out the lateness of the hour, a most astonishing excuse to people + to whom time is nothing and whose life and activities are not ruled by the + clock. Indeed Lingard hardly knew what he was saying or doing when he went + out again leaving everybody dumb with astonishment at the change in his + aspect and in his behaviour. A suspicious silence reigned for a long time + in Belarab's great audience room till the Chief dismissed everybody by two + quiet words and a slight gesture. + </p> + <p> + With her chin in her hand in the pose of a sybil trying to read the future + in the glow of dying embers, Mrs. Travers, without holding her breath, + heard quite close to her the footsteps which she had been listening for + with mingled alarm, remorse, and hope. + </p> + <p> + She didn't change her attitude. The deep red glow lighted her up dimly, + her face, the white hand hanging by her side, her feet in their sandals. + The disturbing footsteps stopped close to her. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been all this time?” she asked, without looking round. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” answered Lingard. He was speaking the exact truth. He + didn't know. Ever since he had released that woman from his arms + everything but the vaguest notions had departed from him. Events, + necessities, things—he had lost his grip on them all. And he didn't + care. They were futile and impotent; he had no patience with them. The + offended and astonished Belarab, d'Alcacer with his kindly touch and + friendly voice, the sleeping men, the men awake, the Settlement full of + unrestful life and the restless Shallows of the coast, were removed from + him into an immensity of pitying contempt. Perhaps they existed. Perhaps + all this waited for him. Well, let all this wait; let everything wait, + till to-morrow or to the end of time, which could now come at any moment + for all he cared—but certainly till to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + “I only know,” he went on with an emphasis that made Mrs. Travers raise + her head, “that wherever I go I shall carry you with me—against my + breast.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers' fine ear caught the mingled tones of suppressed exultation + and dawning fear, the ardour and the faltering of those words. She was + feeling still the physical truth at the root of them so strongly that she + couldn't help saying in a dreamy whisper: + </p> + <p> + “Did you mean to crush the life out of me?” + </p> + <p> + He answered in the same tone: + </p> + <p> + “I could not have done it. You are too strong. Was I rough? I didn't mean + to be. I have been often told I didn't know my own strength. You did not + seem able to get through that opening and so I caught hold of you. You + came away in my hands quite easily. Suddenly I thought to myself, 'now I + will make sure.'” + </p> + <p> + He paused as if his breath had failed him. Mrs. Travers dared not make the + slightest movement. Still in the pose of one in quest of hidden truth she + murmured, “Make sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And now I am sure. You are here—here! Before I couldn't tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you couldn't tell before,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “So it was reality that you were seeking.” + </p> + <p> + He repeated as if speaking to himself: “And now I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + Her sandalled foot, all rosy in the glow, felt the warmth of the embers. + The tepid night had enveloped her body; and still under the impression of + his strength she gave herself up to a momentary feeling of quietude that + came about her heart as soft as the night air penetrated by the feeble + clearness of the stars. “This is a limpid soul,” she thought. + </p> + <p> + “You know I always believed in you,” he began again. “You know I did. + Well. I never believed in you so much as I do now, as you sit there, just + as you are, and with hardly enough light to make you out by.” + </p> + <p> + It occurred to her that she had never heard a voice she liked so well—except + one. But that had been a great actor's voice; whereas this man was nothing + in the world but his very own self. He persuaded, he moved, he disturbed, + he soothed by his inherent truth. He had wanted to make sure and he had + made sure apparently; and too weary to resist the waywardness of her + thoughts Mrs. Travers reflected with a sort of amusement that apparently + he had not been disappointed. She thought, “He believes in me. What + amazing words. Of all the people that might have believed in me I had to + find this one here. He believes in me more than in himself.” A gust of + sudden remorse tore her out from her quietness, made her cry out to him: + </p> + <p> + “Captain Lingard, we forget how we have met, we forget what is going on. + We mustn't. I won't say that you placed your belief wrongly but I have to + confess something to you. I must tell you how I came here to-night. + Jorgenson . . .” + </p> + <p> + He interrupted her forcibly but without raising his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Jorgenson. Who's Jorgenson? You came to me because you couldn't help + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + This took her breath away. “But I must tell you. There is something in my + coming which is not clear to me.” + </p> + <p> + “You can tell me nothing that I don't know already,” he said in a pleading + tone. “Say nothing. Sit still. Time enough to-morrow. To-morrow! The night + is drawing to an end and I care for nothing in the world but you. Let me + be. Give me the rest that is in you.” + </p> + <p> + She had never heard such accents on his lips and she felt for him a great + and tender pity. Why not humour this mood in which he wanted to preserve + the moments that would never come to him again on this earth? She + hesitated in silence. She saw him stir in the darkness as if he could not + make up his mind to sit down on the bench. But suddenly he scattered the + embers with his foot and sank on the ground against her feet, and she was + not startled in the least to feel the weight of his head on her knee. Mrs. + Travers was not startled but she felt profoundly moved. Why should she + torment him with all those questions of freedom and captivity, of violence + and intrigue, of life and death? He was not in a state to be told anything + and it seemed to her that she did not want to speak, that in the greatness + of her compassion she simply could not speak. All she could do for him was + to rest her hand lightly on his head and respond silently to the slight + movement she felt, sigh or sob, but a movement which suddenly immobilized + her in an anxious emotion. + </p> + <p> + About the same time on the other side of the lagoon Jorgenson, raising his + eyes, noted the stars and said to himself that the night would not last + long now. He wished for daylight. He hoped that Lingard had already done + something. The blaze in Tengga's compound had been re-lighted. Tom's power + was unbounded, practically unbounded. And he was invulnerable. + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson let his old eyes wander amongst the gleams and shadows of the + great sheet of water between him and that hostile shore and fancied he + could detect a floating shadow having the characteristic shape of a man in + a small canoe. + </p> + <p> + “O! Ya! Man!” he hailed. “What do you want?” Other eyes, too, had detected + that shadow. Low murmurs arose on the deck of the Emma. “If you don't + speak at once I shall fire,” shouted Jorgenson, fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “No, white man,” returned the floating shape in a solemn drawl. “I am the + bearer of friendly words. A chief's words. I come from Tengga.” + </p> + <p> + “There was a bullet that came on board not a long time ago—also from + Tengga,” said Jorgenson. + </p> + <p> + “That was an accident,” protested the voice from the lagoon. “What else + could it be? Is there war between you and Tengga? No, no, O white man! All + Tengga desires is a long talk. He has sent me to ask you to come ashore.” + </p> + <p> + At these words Jorgenson's heart sank a little. This invitation meant that + Lingard had made no move. Was Tom asleep or altogether mad? + </p> + <p> + “The talk would be of peace,” declared impressively the shadow which had + drifted much closer to the hulk now. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't for me to talk with great chiefs,” Jorgenson returned, + cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “But Tengga is a friend,” argued the nocturnal messenger. “And by that + fire there are other friends—your friends, the Rajah Hassim and the + lady Immada, who send you their greetings and who expect their eyes to + rest on you before sunrise.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a lie,” remarked Jorgenson, perfunctorily, and fell into thought, + while the shadowy bearer of words preserved a scandalized silence, though, + of course, he had not expected to be believed for a moment. But one could + never tell what a white man would believe. He had wanted to produce the + impression that Hassim and Immada were the honoured guests of Tengga. It + occurred to him suddenly that perhaps Jorgenson didn't know anything of + the capture. And he persisted. + </p> + <p> + “My words are all true, Tuan. The Rajah of Wajo and his sister are with my + master. I left them sitting by the fire on Tengga's right hand. Will you + come ashore to be welcomed amongst friends?” + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson had been reflecting profoundly. His object was to gain as much + time as possible for Lingard's interference which indeed could not fail to + be effective. But he had not the slightest wish to entrust himself to + Tengga's friendliness. Not that he minded the risk; but he did not see the + use of taking it. + </p> + <p> + “No!” he said, “I can't go ashore. We white men have ways of our own and I + am chief of this hulk. And my chief is the Rajah Laut, a white man like + myself. All the words that matter are in him and if Tengga is such a great + chief let him ask the Rajah Laut for a talk. Yes, that's the proper thing + for Tengga to do if he is such a great chief as he says.” + </p> + <p> + “The Rajah Laut has made his choice. He dwells with Belarab, and with the + white people who are huddled together like trapped deer in Belarab's + stockade. Why shouldn't you meantime go over where everything is lighted + up and open and talk in friendship with Tengga's friends, whose hearts + have been made sick by many doubts; Rajah Hassim and the lady Immada and + Daman, the chief of the men of the sea, who do not know now whom they can + trust unless it be you, Tuan, the keeper of much wealth?” + </p> + <p> + The diplomatist in the small dugout paused for a moment to give special + weight to the final argument: + </p> + <p> + “Which you have no means to defend. We know how many armed men there are + with you.” + </p> + <p> + “They are great fighters,” Jorgenson observed, unconcernedly, spreading + his elbows on the rail and looking over at the floating black patch of + characteristic shape whence proceeded the voice of the wily envoy of + Tengga. “Each man of them is worth ten of such as you can find in the + Settlement.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, by Allah. Even worth twenty of these common people. Indeed, you have + enough with you to make a great fight but not enough for victory.” + </p> + <p> + “God alone gives victory,” said suddenly the voice of Jaffir, who, very + still at Jorgenson's elbow, had been listening to the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Very true,” was the answer in an extremely conventional tone. “Will you + come ashore, O white man; and be the leader of chiefs?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been that before,” said Jorgenson, with great dignity, “and now + all I want is peace. But I won't come ashore amongst people whose minds + are so much troubled, till Rajah Hassim and his sister return on board + this ship and tell me the tale of their new friendship with Tengga.” + </p> + <p> + His heart was sinking with every minute, the very air was growing heavier + with the sense of oncoming disaster, on that night that was neither war + nor peace and whose only voice was the voice of Tengga's envoy, + insinuating in tone though menacing in words. + </p> + <p> + “No, that cannot be,” said that voice. “But, Tuan, verily Tengga himself + is ready to come on board here to talk with you. He is very ready to come + and indeed, Tuan, he means to come on board here before very long.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, with fifty war-canoes filled with the ferocious rabble of the Shore + of Refuge,” Jaffir was heard commenting, sarcastically, over the rail; and + a sinister muttered “It may be so,” ascended alongside from the black + water. + </p> + <p> + Jorgenson kept silent as if waiting for a supreme inspiration and suddenly + he spoke in his other-world voice: “Tell Tengga from me that as long as he + brings with him Rajah Hassim and the Rajah's sister, he and his chief men + will be welcome on deck here, no matter how many boats come along with + them. For that I do not care. You may go now.” + </p> + <p> + A profound silence succeeded. It was clear that the envoy was gone, + keeping in the shadow of the shore. Jorgenson turned to Jaffir. + </p> + <p> + “Death amongst friends is but a festival,” he quoted, mumbling in his + moustache. + </p> + <p> + “It is, by Allah,” assented Jaffir with sombre fervour. + </p> + <p> + VI + </p> + <p> + Thirty-six hours later Carter, alone with Lingard in the cabin of the + brig, could almost feel during a pause in his talk the oppressive, the + breathless peace of the Shallows awaiting another sunset. + </p> + <p> + “I never expected to see any of you alive,” Carter began in his easy tone, + but with much less carelessness in his bearing as though his days of + responsibility amongst the Shoals of the Shore of Refuge had matured his + view of the external world and of his own place therein. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” muttered Lingard. + </p> + <p> + The listlessness of that man whom he had always seen acting under the + stress of a secret passion seemed perfectly appalling to Carter's youthful + and deliberate energy. Ever since he had found himself again face to face + with Lingard he had tried to conceal the shocking impression with a + delicacy which owed nothing to training but was as intuitive as a child's. + </p> + <p> + While justifying to Lingard his manner of dealing with the situation on + the Shore of Refuge, he could not for the life of him help asking himself + what was this new mystery. He was also young enough to long for a word of + commendation. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Captain,” he argued; “how would you have liked to come out and find + nothing but two half-burnt wrecks stuck on the sands—perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + He waited for a moment, then in sheer compassion turned away his eyes from + that fixed gaze, from that harassed face with sunk cheeks, from that + figure of indomitable strength robbed of its fire. He said to himself: “He + doesn't hear me,” and raised his voice without altering its self-contained + tone: + </p> + <p> + “I was below yesterday morning when we felt the shock, but the noise came + to us only as a deep rumble. I made one jump for the companion but that + precious Shaw was before me yelling, 'Earthquake! Earthquake!' and I am + hanged if he didn't miss his footing and land down on his head at the + bottom of the stairs. I had to stop to pick him up but I got on deck in + time to see a mighty black cloud that seemed almost solid pop up from + behind the forest like a balloon. It stayed there for quite a long time. + Some of our Calashes on deck swore to me that they had seen a red flash + above the tree-tops. But that's hard to believe. I guessed at once that + something had blown up on shore. My first thought was that I would never + see you any more and I made up my mind at once to find out all the truth + you have been keeping away from me. No, sir! Don't you make a mistake! I + wasn't going to give you up, dead or alive.” + </p> + <p> + He looked hard at Lingard while saying these words and saw the first sign + of animation pass over that ravaged face. He saw even its lips move + slightly; but there was no sound, and Carter looked away again. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you would have done better by telling me everything; but you left + me behind on my own to be your man here. I put my hand to the work I could + see before me. I am a sailor. There were two ships to look after. And here + they are both for you, fit to go or to stay, to fight or to run, as you + choose.” He watched with bated breath the effort Lingard had to make to + utter the two words of the desired commendation: + </p> + <p> + “Well done!” + </p> + <p> + “And I am your man still,” Carter added, impulsively, and hastened to look + away from Lingard, who had tried to smile at him and had failed. Carter + didn't know what to do next, remain in the cabin or leave that unsupported + strong man to himself. With a shyness completely foreign to his character + and which he could not understand himself, he suggested in an engaging + murmur and with an embarrassed assumption of his right to give advice: + </p> + <p> + “Why not lie down for a bit, sir? I can attend to anything that may turn + up. You seem done up, sir.” + </p> + <p> + He was facing Lingard, who stood on the other side of the table in a + leaning forward attitude propped up on rigid arms and stared fixedly at + him—perhaps? Carter felt on the verge of despair. This couldn't + last. He was relieved to see Lingard shake his head slightly. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Carter. I think I will go on deck,” said the Captain of the + famous brig Lightning, while his eyes roamed all over the cabin. Carter + stood aside at once, but it was some little time before Lingard made a + move. + </p> + <p> + The sun had sunk already, leaving that evening no trace of its glory on a + sky clear as crystal and on the waters without a ripple. All colour seemed + to have gone out of the world. The oncoming shadow rose as subtle as a + perfume from the black coast lying athwart the eastern semicircle; and + such was the silence within the horizon that one might have fancied + oneself come to the end of time. Black and toylike in the clear depths and + the final stillness of the evening the brig and the schooner lay anchored + in the middle of the main channel with their heads swung the same way. + Lingard, with his chin on his breast and his arms folded, moved slowly + here and there about the poop. Close and mute like his shadow, Carter, at + his elbow, followed his movements. He felt an anxious solicitude. . . . + </p> + <p> + It was a sentiment perfectly new to him. He had never before felt this + sort of solicitude about himself or any other man. His personality was + being developed by new experience, and as he was very simple he received + the initiation with shyness and self-mistrust. He had noticed with + innocent alarm that Lingard had not looked either at the sky or over the + sea, neither at his own ship nor the schooner astern; not along the decks, + not aloft, not anywhere. He had looked at nothing! And somehow Carter felt + himself more lonely and without support than when he had been left alone + by that man in charge of two ships entangled amongst the Shallows and + environed by some sinister mystery. Since that man had come back, instead + of welcome relief Carter felt his responsibility rest on his young + shoulders with tenfold weight. His profound conviction was that Lingard + should be roused. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Lingard,” he burst out in desperation; “you can't say I have + worried you very much since this morning when I received you at the side, + but I must be told something. What is it going to be with us? Fight or + run?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard stopped short and now there was no doubt in Carter's mind that the + Captain was looking at him. There was no room for any doubt before that + stern and enquiring gaze. “Aha!” thought Carter. “This has startled him”; + and feeling that his shyness had departed he pursued his advantage. “For + the fact of the matter is, sir, that, whatever happens, unless I am to be + your man you will have no officer. I had better tell you at once that I + have bundled that respectable, crazy, fat Shaw out of the ship. He was + upsetting all hands. Yesterday I told him to go and get his dunnage + together because I was going to send him aboard the yacht. He couldn't + have made more uproar about it if I had proposed to chuck him overboard. I + warned him that if he didn't go quietly I would have him tied up like a + sheep ready for slaughter. However, he went down the ladder on his own + feet, shaking his fist at me and promising to have me hanged for a pirate + some day. He can do no harm on board the yacht. And now, sir, it's for you + to give orders and not for me—thank God!” + </p> + <p> + Lingard turned away, abruptly. Carter didn't budge. After a moment he + heard himself called from the other side of the deck and obeyed with + alacrity. + </p> + <p> + “What's that story of a man you picked up on the coast last evening?” + asked Lingard in his gentlest tone. “Didn't you tell me something about it + when I came on board?” + </p> + <p> + “I tried to,” said Carter, frankly. “But I soon gave it up. You didn't + seem to pay any attention to what I was saying. I thought you wanted to be + left alone for a bit. What can I know of your ways, yet, sir? Are you + aware, Captain Lingard, that since this morning I have been down five + times at the cabin door to look at you? There you sat. . . .” + </p> + <p> + He paused and Lingard said: “You have been five times down in the cabin?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And the sixth time I made up my mind to make you take some notice of + me. I can't be left without orders. There are two ships to look after, a + lot of things to be done. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to be done,” Lingard interrupted with a mere murmur but + in a tone which made Carter keep silent for a while. + </p> + <p> + “Even to know that much would have been something to go by,” he ventured + at last. “I couldn't let you sit there with the sun getting pretty low and + a long night before us.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel stunned yet,” said Lingard, looking Carter straight in the face, + as if to watch the effect of that confession. + </p> + <p> + “Were you very near that explosion?” asked the young man with sympathetic + curiosity and seeking for some sign on Lingard's person. But there was + nothing. Not a single hair of the Captain's head seemed to have been + singed. + </p> + <p> + “Near,” muttered Lingard. “It might have been my head.” He pressed it with + both hands, then let them fall. “What about that man?” he asked, + brusquely. “Where did he come from? . . . I suppose he is dead now,” he + added in an envious tone. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. He must have as many lives as a cat,” answered Carter. “I will + tell you how it was. As I said before I wasn't going to give you up, dead + or alive, so yesterday when the sun went down a little in the afternoon I + had two of our boats manned and pulled in shore, taking soundings to find + a passage if there was one. I meant to go back and look for you with the + brig or without the brig—but that doesn't matter now. There were + three or four floating logs in sight. One of the Calashes in my boat made + out something red on one of them. I thought it was worth while to go and + see what it was. It was that man's sarong. It had got entangled among the + branches and prevented him rolling off into the water. I was never so + glad, I assure you, as when we found out that he was still breathing. If + we could only nurse him back to life, I thought, he could perhaps tell me + a lot of things. The log on which he hung had come out of the mouth of the + creek and he couldn't have been more than half a day on it by my + calculation. I had him taken down the main hatchway and put into a hammock + in the 'tween-decks. He only just breathed then, but some time during the + night he came to himself and got out of the hammock to lie down on a mat. + I suppose he was more comfortable that way. He recovered his speech only + this morning and I went down at once and told you of it, but you took no + notice. I told you also who he was but I don't know whether you heard me + or not.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't remember,” said Lingard under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “They are wonderful, those Malays. This morning he was only half alive, if + that much, and now I understand he has been talking to Wasub for an hour. + Will you go down to see him, sir, or shall I send a couple of men to carry + him on deck?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard looked bewildered for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Who on earth is he?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's that fellow whom you sent out, that night I met you, to catch + our first gig. What do they call him? Jaffir, I think. Hasn't he been with + you ashore, sir? Didn't he find you with the letter I gave him for you? A + most determined looking chap. I knew him again the moment we got him off + the log.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard seized hold of the royal backstay within reach of his hand. + Jaffir! Jaffir! Faithful above all others; the messenger of supreme + moments; the reckless and devoted servant! Lingard felt a crushing sense + of despair. “No, I can't face this,” he whispered to himself, looking at + the coast black as ink now before his eyes in the world's shadow that was + slowly encompassing the grey clearness of the Shallow Waters. “Send Wasub + to me. I am going down into the cabin.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed over to the companion, then checking himself suddenly: “Was + there a boat from the yacht during the day?” he asked as if struck by a + sudden thought.—“No, sir,” answered Carter. “We had no communication + with the yacht to-day.”—“Send Wasub to me,” repeated Lingard in a + stern voice as he went down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + The old serang coming in noiselessly saw his Captain as he had seen him + many times before, sitting under the gilt thunderbolts, apparently as + strong in his body, in his wealth, and in his knowledge of secret words + that have a power over men and elements, as ever. The old Malay squatted + down within a couple of feet from Lingard, leaned his back against the + satinwood panel of the bulkhead, then raising his old eyes with a watchful + and benevolent expression to the white man's face, clasped his hands + between his knees. + </p> + <p> + “Wasub, you have learned now everything. Is there no one left alive but + Jaffir? Are they all dead?” + </p> + <p> + “May you live!” answered Wasub; and Lingard whispered an appalled “All + dead!” to which Wasub nodded slightly twice. His cracked voice had a + lamenting intonation. “It is all true! It is all true! You are left alone, + Tuan; you are left alone!” + </p> + <p> + “It was their destiny,” said Lingard at last, with forced calmness. “But + has Jaffir told you of the manner of this calamity? How is it that he + alone came out alive from it to be found by you?” + </p> + <p> + “He was told by his lord to depart and he obeyed,” began Wasub, fixing his + eyes on the deck and speaking just loud enough to be heard by Lingard, + who, bending forward in his seat, shrank inwardly from every word and yet + would not have missed a single one of them for anything. + </p> + <p> + For the catastrophe had fallen on his head like a bolt from the blue in + the early morning hours of the day before. At the first break of dawn he + had been sent for to resume, his talk with Belarab. He had felt suddenly + Mrs. Travers remove her hand from his head. Her voice speaking intimately + into his ear: “Get up. There are some people coming,” had recalled him to + himself. He had got up from the ground. The light was dim, the air full of + mist; and it was only gradually that he began to make out forms above his + head and about his feet: trees, houses, men sleeping on the ground. He + didn't recognize them. It was but a cruel change of dream. Who could tell + what was real in this world? He looked about him, dazedly; he was still + drunk with the deep draught of oblivion he had conquered for himself. Yes—but + it was she who had let him snatch the cup. He looked down at the woman on + the bench. She moved not. She had remained like that, still for hours, + giving him a waking dream of rest without end, in an infinity of happiness + without sound and movement, without thought, without joy; but with an + infinite ease of content, like a world-embracing reverie breathing the air + of sadness and scented with love. For hours she had not moved. + </p> + <p> + “You are the most generous of women,” he said. He bent over her. Her eyes + were wide open. Her lips felt cold. It did not shock him. After he stood + up he remained near her. Heat is a consuming thing, but she with her cold + lips seemed to him indestructible—and, perhaps, immortal! + </p> + <p> + Again he stooped, but this time it was only to kiss the fringe of her head + scarf. Then he turned away to meet the three men, who, coming round the + corner of the hut containing the prisoners, were approaching him with + measured steps. They desired his presence in the Council room. Belarab was + awake. + </p> + <p> + They also expressed their satisfaction at finding the white man awake, + because Belarab wanted to impart to him information of the greatest + importance. It seemed to Lingard that he had been awake ever since he + could remember. It was as to being alive that he felt not so sure. He had + no doubt of his existence; but was this life—this profound + indifference, this strange contempt for what his eyes could see, this + distaste for words, this unbelief in the importance of things and men? He + tried to regain possession of himself, his old self which had things to + do, words to speak as well as to hear. But it was too difficult. He was + seduced away by the tense feeling of existence far superior to the mere + consciousness of life, and which in its immensity of contradictions, + delight, dread, exultation and despair could not be faced and yet was not + to be evaded. There was no peace in it. But who wanted peace? Surrender + was better, the dreadful ease of slack limbs in the sweep of an enormous + tide and in a divine emptiness of mind. If this was existence then he knew + that he existed. And he knew that the woman existed, too, in the sweep of + the tide, without speech, without movement, without heat! Indestructible—and, + perhaps, immortal! + </p> + <p> + VII + </p> + <p> + With the sublime indifference of a man who has had a glimpse through the + open doors of Paradise and is no longer careful of mere life, Lingard had + followed Belarab's anxious messengers. The stockade was waking up in a + subdued resonance of voices. Men were getting up from the ground, fires + were being rekindled. Draped figures flitted in the mist amongst the + buildings; and through the mat wall of a bamboo house Lingard heard the + feeble wailing of a child. A day of mere life was beginning; but in the + Chief's great Council room several wax candles and a couple of cheap + European lamps kept the dawn at bay, while the morning mist which could + not be kept out made a faint reddish halo round every flame. + </p> + <p> + Belarab was not only awake, but he even looked like a man who had not + slept for a long time. The creator of the Shore of Refuge, the weary Ruler + of the Settlement, with his scorn of the unrest and folly of men, was + angry with his white friend who was always bringing his desires and his + troubles to his very door. Belarab did not want any one to die but neither + did he want any one in particular to live. What he was concerned about was + to preserve the mystery and the power of his melancholy hesitations. These + delicate things were menaced by Lingard's brusque movements, by that + passionate white man who believed in more than one God and always seemed + to doubt the power of Destiny. Belarab was profoundly annoyed. He was also + genuinely concerned, for he liked Lingard. He liked him not only for his + strength, which protected his clear-minded scepticism from those dangers + that beset all rulers, but he liked him also for himself. That man of + infinite hesitations, born from a sort of mystic contempt for Allah's + creation, yet believed absolutely both in Lingard's power and in his + boldness. Absolutely. And yet, in the marvellous consistency of his + temperament, now that the moment had come, he dreaded to put both power + and fortitude to the test. + </p> + <p> + Lingard could not know that some little time before the first break of + dawn one of Belarab's spies in the Settlement had found his way inside the + stockade at a spot remote from the lagoon, and that a very few moments + after Lingard had left the Chief in consequence of Jorgenson's rockets, + Belarab was listening to an amazing tale of Hassim and Immada's capture + and of Tengga's determination, very much strengthened by that fact, to + obtain possession of the Emma, either by force or by negotiation, or by + some crafty subterfuge in which the Rajah and his sister could be made to + play their part. In his mistrust of the universe, which seemed almost to + extend to the will of God himself, Belarab was very much alarmed, for the + material power of Daman's piratical crowd was at Tengga's command; and who + could tell whether this Wajo Rajah would remain loyal in the + circumstances? It was also very characteristic of him whom the original + settlers of the Shore of Refuge called the Father of Safety, that he did + not say anything of this to Lingard, for he was afraid of rousing + Lingard's fierce energy which would even carry away himself and all his + people and put the peace of so many years to the sudden hazard of a + battle. + </p> + <p> + Therefore Belarab set himself to persuade Lingard on general + considerations to deliver the white men, who really belonged to Daman, to + that supreme Chief of the Illanuns and by this simple proceeding detach + him completely from Tengga. Why should he, Belarab, go to war against half + the Settlement on their account? It was not necessary, it was not + reasonable. It would be even in a manner a sin to begin a strife in a + community of True Believers. Whereas with an offer like that in his hand + he could send an embassy to Tengga who would see there at once the + downfall of his purposes and the end of his hopes. At once! That moment! . + . . Afterward the question of a ransom could be arranged with Daman in + which he, Belarab, would mediate in the fullness of his recovered power, + without a rival and in the sincerity of his heart. And then, if need be, + he could put forth all his power against the chief of the sea-vagabonds + who would, as a matter of fact, be negotiating under the shadow of the + sword. + </p> + <p> + Belarab talked, low-voiced and dignified, with now and then a subtle + intonation, a persuasive inflexion or a half-melancholy smile in the + course of the argument. What encouraged him most was the changed aspect of + his white friend. The fierce power of his personality seemed to have + turned into a dream. Lingard listened, growing gradually inscrutable in + his continued silence, but remaining gentle in a sort of rapt patience as + if lapped in the wings of the Angel of Peace himself. Emboldened by that + transformation, Belarab's counsellors seated on the mats murmured loudly + their assent to the views of the Chief. Through the thickening white mist + of tropical lands, the light of the tropical day filtered into the hall. + One of the wise men got up from the floor and with prudent fingers began + extinguishing the waxlights one by one. He hesitated to touch the lamps, + the flames of which looked yellow and cold. A puff of the morning breeze + entered the great room, faint and chill. Lingard, facing Belarab in a + wooden armchair, with slack limbs and in the divine emptiness of a mind + enchanted by a glimpse of Paradise, shuddered profoundly. + </p> + <p> + A strong voice shouted in the doorway without any ceremony and with a sort + of jeering accent: + </p> + <p> + “Tengga's boats are out in the mist.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard half rose from his seat, Belarab himself could not repress a + start. Lingard's attitude was a listening one, but after a moment of + hesitation he ran out of the hall. The inside of the stockade was + beginning to buzz like a disturbed hive. + </p> + <p> + Outside Belarab's house Lingard slowed his pace. The mist still hung. A + great sustained murmur pervaded it and the blurred forms of men were all + moving outward from the centre toward the palisades. Somewhere amongst the + buildings a gong clanged. D'Alcacer's raised voice was heard: + </p> + <p> + “What is happening?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard was passing then close to the prisoners' house. There was a group + of armed men below the verandah and above their heads he saw Mrs. Travers + by the side of d'Alcacer. The fire by which Lingard had spent the night + was extinguished, its embers scattered, and the bench itself lay + overturned. Mrs. Travers must have run up on the verandah at the first + alarm. She and d'Alcacer up there seemed to dominate the tumult which was + now subsiding. Lingard noticed the scarf across Mrs. Travers' face. + D'Alcacer was bareheaded. He shouted again: + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to see,” shouted Lingard back. + </p> + <p> + He resisted the impulse to join those two, dominate the tumult, let it + roll away from under his feet—the mere life of men, vain like a + dream and interfering with the tremendous sense of his own existence. He + resisted it, he could hardly have told why. Even the sense of + self-preservation had abandoned him. There was a throng of people pressing + close about him yet careful not to get in his way. Surprise, concern, + doubt were depicted on all those faces; but there were some who observed + that the great white man making his way to the lagoon side of the stockade + wore a fixed smile. He asked at large: + </p> + <p> + “Can one see any distance over the water?” + </p> + <p> + One of Belarab's headmen who was nearest to him answered: + </p> + <p> + “The mist has thickened. If you see anything, Tuan, it will be but a + shadow of things.” + </p> + <p> + The four sides of the stockade had been manned by that time. Lingard, + ascending the banquette, looked out and saw the lagoon shrouded in white, + without as much as a shadow on it, and so still that not even the sound of + water lapping the shore reached his ears. He found himself in profound + accord with this blind and soundless peace. + </p> + <p> + “Has anything at all been seen?” he asked incredulously. + </p> + <p> + Four men were produced at once who had seen a dark mass of boats moving in + the light of the dawn. Others were sent for. He hardly listened to them. + His thought escaped him and he stood motionless, looking out into the + unstirring mist pervaded by the perfect silence. Presently Belarab joined + him, escorted by three grave, swarthy men, himself dark-faced, stroking + his short grey beard with impenetrable composure. He said to Lingard, + “Your white man doesn't fight,” to which Lingard answered, “There is + nothing to fight against. What your people have seen, Belarab, were indeed + but shadows on the water.” Belarab murmured, “You ought to have allowed me + to make friends with Daman last night.” + </p> + <p> + A faint uneasiness was stealing into Lingard's breast. + </p> + <p> + A moment later d'Alcacer came up, inconspicuously watched over by two men + with lances, and to his anxious inquiry Lingard said: “I don't think there + is anything going on. Listen how still everything is. The only way of + bringing the matter to a test would be to persuade Belarab to let his men + march out and make an attack on Tengga's stronghold this moment. Then we + would learn something. But I couldn't persuade Belarab to march out into + this fog. Indeed, an expedition like this might end badly. I myself don't + believe that all Tengga's people are on the lagoon. . . . Where is Mrs. + Travers?” + </p> + <p> + The question made d'Alcacer start by its abruptness which revealed the + woman's possession of that man's mind. “She is with Don Martin, who is + better but feels very weak. If we are to be given up, he will have to be + carried out to his fate. I can depict to myself the scene. Don Martin + carried shoulder high surrounded by those barbarians with spears, and Mrs. + Travers with myself walking on each side of the stretcher. Mrs. Travers + has declared to me her intention to go out with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she has declared her intention,” murmured Lingard, absent-mindedly. + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer felt himself completely abandoned by that man. And within two + paces of him he noticed the group of Belarab and his three swarthy + attendants in their white robes, preserving an air of serene detachment. + For the first time since the stranding on the coast d'Alcacer's heart sank + within him. “But perhaps,” he went on, “this Moor may not in the end + insist on giving us up to a cruel death, Captain Lingard.” + </p> + <p> + “He wanted to give you up in the middle of the night, a few hours ago,” + said Lingard, without even looking at d'Alcacer who raised his hands a + little and let them fall. Lingard sat down on the breech of a heavy piece + mounted on a naval carriage so as to command the lagoon. He folded his + arms on his breast. D'Alcacer asked, gently: + </p> + <p> + “We have been reprieved then?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Lingard. “It's I who was reprieved.” + </p> + <p> + A long silence followed. Along the whole line of the manned stockade the + whisperings had ceased. The vibrations of the gong had died out, too. Only + the watchers perched in the highest boughs of the big tree made a slight + rustle amongst the leaves. + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking of, Captain Lingard?” d'Alcacer asked in a low + voice. Lingard did not change his position. + </p> + <p> + “I am trying to keep it off,” he said in the same tone. + </p> + <p> + “What? Trying to keep thought off?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this the time for such experiments?” asked d'Alcacer. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? It's my reprieve. Don't grudge it to me, Mr. d'Alcacer.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word I don't. But isn't it dangerous?” + </p> + <p> + “You will have to take your chance.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer had a moment of internal struggle. He asked himself whether he + should tell Lingard that Mrs. Travers had come to the stockade with some + sort of message from Jorgenson. He had it on the tip of his tongue to + advise Lingard to go and see Mrs. Travers and ask her point blank whether + she had anything to tell him; but before he could make up his mind the + voices of invisible men high up in the tree were heard reporting the + thinning of the fog. This caused a stir to run along the four sides of the + stockade. + </p> + <p> + Lingard felt the draught of air in his face, the motionless mist began to + drive over the palisades and, suddenly, the lagoon came into view with a + great blinding glitter of its wrinkled surface and the faint sound of its + wash rising all along the shore. A multitude of hands went up to shade the + eager eyes, and exclamations of wonder burst out from many men at the + sight of a crowd of canoes of various sizes and kinds lying close together + with the effect as of an enormous raft, a little way off the side of the + Emma. The excited voices rose higher and higher. There was no doubt about + Tengga's being on the lagoon. But what was Jorgenson about? The Emma lay + as if abandoned by her keeper and her crew, while the mob of mixed boats + seemed to be meditating an attack. + </p> + <p> + For all his determination to keep thought off to the very last possible + moment, Lingard could not defend himself from a sense of wonder and fear. + What was Jorgenson about? For a moment Lingard expected the side of the + Emma to wreath itself in puffs of smoke, but an age seemed to elapse + without the sound of a shot reaching his ears. + </p> + <p> + The boats were afraid to close. They were hanging off, irresolute; but why + did Jorgenson not put an end to their hesitation by a volley or two of + musketry if only over their heads? Through the anguish of his perplexity + Lingard found himself returning to life, to mere life with its sense of + pain and mortality, like a man awakened from a dream by a stab in the + breast. What did this silence of the Emma mean? Could she have been + already carried in the fog? But that was unthinkable. Some sounds of + resistance must have been heard. No, the boats hung off because they knew + with what desperate defence they would meet; and perhaps Jorgenson knew + very well what he was doing by holding his fire to the very last moment + and letting the craven hearts grow cold with the fear of a murderous + discharge that would have to be faced. What was certain was that this was + the time for Belarab to open the great gate and let his men go out, + display his power, sweep through the further end of the Settlement, + destroy Tengga's defences, do away once for all with the absurd rivalry of + that intriguing amateur boat-builder. Lingard turned eagerly toward + Belarab but saw the Chief busy looking across the lagoon through a long + glass resting on the shoulder of a stooping slave. He was motionless like + a carving. Suddenly he let go the long glass which some ready hands caught + as it fell and said to Lingard: + </p> + <p> + “No fight.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” muttered Lingard, astounded. + </p> + <p> + “There are three empty sampans alongside the ladder,” said Belarab in a + just audible voice. “There is bad talk there.” + </p> + <p> + “Talk? I don't understand,” said Lingard, slowly. + </p> + <p> + But Belarab had turned toward his three attendants in white robes, with + shaven polls under skull-caps of plaited grass, with prayer beads hanging + from their wrists, and an air of superior calm on their dark faces: + companions of his desperate days, men of blood once and now imperturbable + in their piety and wisdom of trusted counsellors. + </p> + <p> + “This white man is being betrayed,” he murmured to them with the greatest + composure. + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer, uncomprehending, watched the scene: the Man of Fate puzzled and + fierce like a disturbed lion, the white-robed Moors, the multitude of + half-naked barbarians, squatting by the guns, standing by the loopholes in + the immobility of an arranged display. He saw Mrs. Travers on the verandah + of the prisoners' house, an anxious figure with a white scarf over her + head. Mr. Travers was no doubt too weak after his fit of fever to come + outside. If it hadn't been for that, all the whites would have been in + sight of each other at the very moment of the catastrophe which was to + give them back to the claims of their life, at the cost of other lives + sent violently out of the world. D'Alcacer heard Lingard asking loudly for + the long glass and saw Belarab make a sign with his hand, when he felt the + earth receive a violent blow from underneath. While he staggered to it the + heavens split over his head with a crash in the lick of a red tongue of + flame; and a sudden dreadful gloom fell all round the stunned d'Alcacer, + who beheld with terror the morning sun, robbed of its rays, glow dull and + brown through the sombre murk which had taken possession of the universe. + The Emma had blown up; and when the rain of shattered timbers and mangled + corpses falling into the lagoon had ceased, the cloud of smoke hanging + motionless under the livid sun cast its shadow afar on the Shore of Refuge + where all strife had come to an end. + </p> + <p> + A great wail of terror ascended from the Settlement and was succeeded by a + profound silence. People could be seen bolting in unreasoning panic away + from the houses and into the fields. On the lagoon the raft of boats had + broken up. Some of them were sinking, others paddling away in all + directions. What was left above water of the Emma had burst into a clear + flame under the shadow of the cloud, the great smoky cloud that hung solid + and unstirring above the tops of the forest, visible for miles up and down + the coast and over the Shallows. + </p> + <p> + The first person to recover inside the stockade was Belarab himself. + Mechanically he murmured the exclamation of wonder, “God is great,” and + looked at Lingard. But Lingard was not looking at him. The shock of the + explosion had robbed him of speech and movement. He stared at the Emma + blazing in a distant and insignificant flame under the sinister shadow of + the cloud created by Jorgenson's mistrust and contempt for the life of + men. Belarab turned away. His opinion had changed. He regarded Lingard no + longer as a betrayed man but the effect was the same. He was no longer a + man of any importance. What Belarab really wanted now was to see all the + white people clear out of the lagoon as soon as possible. Presently he + ordered the gate to be thrown open and his armed men poured out to take + possession of the Settlement. Later Tengga's houses were set on fire and + Belarab, mounting a fiery pony, issued forth to make a triumphal progress + surrounded by a great crowd of headmen and guards. + </p> + <p> + That night the white people left the stockade in a cortege of torch + bearers. Mr. Travers had to be carried down to the beach, where two of + Belarab's war-boats awaited their distinguished passengers. Mrs. Travers + passed through the gate on d'Alcacer's arm. Her face was half veiled. She + moved through the throng of spectators displayed in the torchlight looking + straight before her. Belarab, standing in front of a group of headmen, + pretended not to see the white people as they went by. With Lingard he + shook hands, murmuring the usual formulas of friendship; and when he heard + the great white man say, “You shall never see me again,” he felt immensely + relieved. Belarab did not want to see that white man again, but as he + responded to the pressure of Lingard's hand he had a grave smile. + </p> + <p> + “God alone knows the future,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Lingard walked to the beach by himself, feeling a stranger to all men and + abandoned by the All-Knowing God. By that time the first boat with Mr. and + Mrs. Travers had already got away out of the blood-red light thrown by the + torches upon the water. D'Alcacer and Lingard followed in the second. + Presently the dark shade of the creek, walled in by the impenetrable + forest, closed round them and the splash of the paddles echoed in the + still, damp air. + </p> + <p> + “How do you think this awful accident happened?” asked d'Alcacer, who had + been sitting silent by Lingard's side. + </p> + <p> + “What is an accident?” said Lingard with a great effort. “Where did you + hear of such a thing? Accident! Don't disturb me, Mr. d'Alcacer. I have + just come back to life and it has closed on me colder and darker than the + grave itself. Let me get used . . . I can't bear the sound of a human + voice yet.” + </p> + <p> + VIII + </p> + <p> + And now, stoical in the cold and darkness of his regained life, Lingard + had to listen to the voice of Wasub telling him Jaffir's story. The old + serang's face expressed a profound dejection and there was infinite + sadness in the flowing murmur of his words. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, by Allah! They were all there: that tyrannical Tengga, noisy like a + fool; the Rajah Hassim, a ruler without a country; Daman, the wandering + chief, and the three Pangerans of the sea-robbers. They came on board + boldly, for Tuan Jorgenson had given them permission, and their talk was + that you, Tuan, were a willing captive in Belarab's stockade. They said + they had waited all night for a message of peace from you or from Belarab. + But there was nothing, and with the first sign of day they put out on the + lagoon to make friends with Tuan Jorgenson; for, they said, you, Tuan, + were as if you had not been, possessing no more power than a dead man, the + mere slave of these strange white people, and Belarab's prisoner. Thus + Tengga talked. God had taken from him all wisdom and all fear. And then he + must have thought he was safe while Rajah Hassim and the lady Immada were + on board. I tell you they sat there in the midst of your enemies, captive! + The lady Immada, with her face covered, mourned to herself. The Rajah + Hassim made a sign to Jaffir and Jaffir came to stand by his side and + talked to his lord. The main hatch was open and many of the Illanuns + crowded there to look down at the goods that were inside the ship. They + had never seen so much loot in their lives. Jaffir and his lord could hear + plainly Tuan Jorgenson and Tengga talking together. Tengga discoursed + loudly and his words were the words of a doomed man, for he was asking + Tuan Jorgenson to give up the arms and everything that was on board the + Emma to himself and to Daman. And then, he said, 'We shall fight Belarab + and make friends with these strange white people by behaving generously to + them and letting them sail away unharmed to their own country. We don't + want them here. You, Tuan Jorgenson, are the only white man I care for.' + They heard Tuan Jorgenson say to Tengga: 'Now you have told me everything + there is in your mind you had better go ashore with your friends and + return to-morrow.' And Tengga asked: 'Why! would you fight me to-morrow + rather than live many days in peace with me?' and he laughed and slapped + his thigh. And Tuan Jorgenson answered: + </p> + <p> + “'No, I won't fight you. But even a spider will give the fly time to say + its prayers.' + </p> + <p> + “Tuan Jorgenson's voice sounded very strange and louder than ever anybody + had heard it before. O Rajah Laut, Jaffir and the white man had been + waiting, too, all night for some sign from you; a shot fired or a + signal-fire, lighted to strengthen their hearts. There had been nothing. + Rajah Hassim, whispering, ordered Jaffir to take the first opportunity to + leap overboard and take to you his message of friendship and good-bye. Did + the Rajah and Jaffir know what was coming? Who can tell? But what else + could they see than calamity for all Wajo men, whatever Tuan Jorgenson had + made up his mind to do? Jaffir prepared to obey his lord, and yet with so + many enemies' boats in the water he did not think he would ever reach the + shore; and as to yourself he was not at all sure that you were still + alive. But he said nothing of this to his Rajah. Nobody was looking their + way. Jaffir pressed his lord's hand to his breast and waited his + opportunity. The fog began to blow away and presently everything was + disclosed to the sight. Jorgenson was on his feet, he was holding a + lighted cigar between his fingers. Tengga was sitting in front of him on + one of the chairs the white people had used. His followers were pressing + round him, with Daman and Sentot, who were muttering incantations; and + even the Pangerans had moved closer to the hatchway. Jaffir's opportunity + had come but he lingered by the side of his Rajah. In the clear air the + sun shone with great force. Tuan Jorgenson looked once more toward + Belarab's stockade, O Rajah Laut! But there was nothing there, not even a + flag displayed that had not been there before. Jaffir looked that way, + too, and as he turned his head he saw Tuan Jorgenson, in the midst of + twenty spear-blades that could in an instant have been driven into his + breast, put the cigar in his mouth and jump down the hatchway. At that + moment Rajah Hassim gave Jaffir a push toward the side and Jaffir leaped + overboard. + </p> + <p> + “He was still in the water when all the world was darkened round him as if + the life of the sun had been blown out of it in a crash. A great wave came + along and washed him on shore, while pieces of wood, iron, and the limbs + of torn men were splashing round him in the water. He managed to crawl out + of the mud. Something had hit him while he was swimming and he thought he + would die. But life stirred in him. He had a message for you. For a long + time he went on crawling under the big trees on his hands and knees, for + there is no rest for a messenger till the message is delivered. At last he + found himself on the left bank of the creek. And still he felt life stir + in him. So he started to swim across, for if you were in this world you + were on the other side. While he swam he felt his strength abandoning him. + He managed to scramble on to a drifting log and lay on it like one who is + dead, till we pulled him into one of our boats.” + </p> + <p> + Wasub ceased. It seemed to Lingard that it was impossible for mortal man + to suffer more than he suffered in the succeeding moment of silence + crowded by the mute images as of universal destruction. He felt himself + gone to pieces as though the violent expression of Jorgenson's intolerable + mistrust of the life of men had shattered his soul, leaving his body + robbed of all power of resistance and of all fortitude, a prey forever to + infinite remorse and endless regrets. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me, Wasub,” he said. “They are all dead—but I would sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Wasub raised his dumb old eyes to the white man's face. + </p> + <p> + “Tuan, it is necessary that you should hear Jaffir,” he said, patiently. + </p> + <p> + “Is he going to die?” asked Lingard in a low, cautious tone as though he + were afraid of the sound of his own voice. + </p> + <p> + “Who can tell?” Wasub's voice sounded more patient than ever. “There is no + wound on his body but, O Tuan, he does not wish to live.” + </p> + <p> + “Abandoned by his God,” muttered Lingard to himself. + </p> + <p> + Wasub waited a little before he went on, “And, Tuan, he has a message for + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. Well, I don't want to hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is from those who will never speak to you again,” Wasub persevered, + sadly. “It is a great trust. A Rajah's own words. It is difficult for + Jaffir to die. He keeps on muttering about a ring that was for you, and + that he let pass out of his care. It was a great talisman!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But it did not work this time. And if I go and tell Jaffir why he + will be able to tell his Rajah, O Wasub, since you say that he is going to + die. . . . I wonder where they will meet,” he muttered to himself. + </p> + <p> + Once more Wasub raised his eyes to Lingard's face. “Paradise is the lot of + all True Believers,” he whispered, firm in his simple faith. + </p> + <p> + The man who had been undone by a glimpse of Paradise exchanged a profound + look with the old Malay. Then he got up. On his passage to the main + hatchway the commander of the brig met no one on the decks, as if all + mankind had given him up except the old man who preceded him and that + other man dying in the deepening twilight, who was awaiting his coming. + Below, in the light of the hatchway, he saw a young Calash with a broad + yellow face and his wiry hair sticking up in stiff wisps through the folds + of his head-kerchief, holding an earthenware water-jar to the lips of + Jaffir extended on his back on a pile of mats. + </p> + <p> + A languid roll of the already glazed eyeballs, a mere stir of black and + white in the gathering dusk showed that the faithful messenger of princes + was aware of the presence of the man who had been so long known to him and + his people as the King of the Sea. Lingard knelt down close to Jaffir's + head, which rolled a little from side to side and then became still, + staring at a beam of the upper deck. Lingard bent his ear to the dark + lips. “Deliver your message” he said in a gentle tone. + </p> + <p> + “The Rajah wished to hold your hand once more,” whispered Jaffir so + faintly that Lingard had to guess the words rather than hear them. “I was + to tell you,” he went on—and stopped suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “What were you to tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “To forget everything,” said Jaffir with a loud effort as if beginning a + long speech. After that he said nothing more till Lingard murmured, “And + the lady Immada?” + </p> + <p> + Jaffir collected all his strength. “She hoped no more,” he uttered, + distinctly. “The order came to her while she mourned, veiled, apart. I + didn't even see her face.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard swayed over the dying man so heavily that Wasub, standing near by, + hastened to catch him by the shoulder. Jaffir seemed unaware of anything, + and went on staring at the beam. + </p> + <p> + “Can you hear me, O Jaffir?” asked Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “I hear.” + </p> + <p> + “I never had the ring. Who could bring it to me?” + </p> + <p> + “We gave it to the white woman—may Jehannum be her lot!” + </p> + <p> + “No! It shall be my lot,” said Lingard with despairing force, while Wasub + raised both his hands in dismay. “For, listen, Jaffir, if she had given + the ring to me it would have been to one that was dumb, deaf, and robbed + of all courage.” + </p> + <p> + It was impossible to say whether Jaffir had heard. He made no sound, there + was no change in his awful stare, but his prone body moved under the + cotton sheet as if to get further away from the white man. Lingard got up + slowly and making a sign to Wasub to remain where he was, went up on deck + without giving another glance to the dying man. Again it seemed to him + that he was pacing the quarter-deck of a deserted ship. The mulatto + steward, watching through the crack of the pantry door, saw the Captain + stagger into the cuddy and fling-to the door behind him with a crash. For + more than an hour nobody approached that closed door till Carter coming + down the companion stairs spoke without attempting to open it. + </p> + <p> + “Are you there, sir?” The answer, “You may come in,” comforted the young + man by its strong resonance. He went in. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Jaffir is dead. This moment. I thought you would want to know.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard looked persistently at Carter, thinking that now Jaffir was dead + there was no one left on the empty earth to speak to him a word of + reproach; no one to know the greatness of his intentions, the bond of + fidelity between him and Hassim and Immada, the depth of his affection for + those people, the earnestness of his visions, and the unbounded trust that + was his reward. By the mad scorn of Jorgenson flaming up against the life + of men, all this was as if it had never been. It had become a secret + locked up in his own breast forever. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Wasub to open one of the long-cloth bales in the hold, Mr. Carter, + and give the crew a cotton sheet to bury him decently according to their + faith. Let it be done to-night. They must have the boats, too. I suppose + they will want to take him on the sandbank.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Carter. + </p> + <p> + “Let them have what they want, spades, torches. . . . Wasub will chant the + right words. Paradise is the lot of all True Believers. Do you understand + me, Mr. Carter? Paradise! I wonder what it will be for him! Unless he gets + messages to carry through the jungle, avoiding ambushes, swimming in + storms and knowing no rest, he won't like it.” + </p> + <p> + Carter listened with an unmoved face. It seemed to him that the Captain + had forgotten his presence. + </p> + <p> + “And all the time he will be sleeping on that sandbank,” Lingard began + again, sitting in his old place under the gilt thunderbolts suspended over + his head with his elbows on the table and his hands to his temples. “If + they want a board to set up at the grave let them have a piece of an oak + plank. It will stay there—till the next monsoon. Perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + Carter felt uncomfortable before that tense stare which just missed him + and in that confined cabin seemed awful in its piercing and far-off + expression. But as he had not been dismissed he did not like to go away. + </p> + <p> + “Everything will be done as you wish it, sir,” he said. “I suppose the + yacht will be leaving the first thing to-morrow morning, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “If she doesn't we must give her a solid shot or two to liven her up—eh, + Mr. Carter?” + </p> + <p> + Carter did not know whether to smile or to look horrified. In the end he + did both, but as to saying anything he found it impossible. But Lingard + did not expect an answer. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you are going to stay with me, Mr. Carter?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you, sir, I am your man if you want me.” + </p> + <p> + “The trouble is, Mr. Carter, that I am no longer the man to whom you spoke + that night in Carimata.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither am I, sir, in a manner of speaking.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard, relaxing the tenseness of his stare, looked at the young man, + thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “After all, it is the brig that will want you. She will never change. The + finest craft afloat in these seas. She will carry me about as she did + before, but . . .” + </p> + <p> + He unclasped his hands, made a sweeping gesture. + </p> + <p> + Carter gave all his naive sympathy to that man who had certainly rescued + the white people but seemed to have lost his own soul in the attempt. + Carter had heard something from Wasub. He had made out enough of this + story from the old serang's pidgin English to know that the Captain's + native friends, one of them a woman, had perished in a mysterious + catastrophe. But the why of it, and how it came about, remained still + quite incomprehensible to him. Of course, a man like the Captain would + feel terribly cut up. . . . + </p> + <p> + “You will be soon yourself again, sir,” he said in the kindest possible + tone. + </p> + <p> + With the same simplicity Lingard shook his head. He was thinking of the + dead Jaffir with his last message delivered and untroubled now by all + these matters of the earth. He had been ordered to tell him to forget + everything. Lingard had an inward shudder. In the dismay of his heart he + might have believed his brig to lie under the very wing of the Angel of + Desolation—so oppressive, so final, and hopeless seemed the silence + in which he and Carter looked at each other, wistfully. + </p> + <p> + Lingard reached for a sheet of paper amongst several lying on the table, + took up a pen, hesitated a moment, and then wrote: + </p> + <p> + “Meet me at day-break on the sandbank.” + </p> + <p> + He addressed the envelope to Mrs. Travers, Yacht Hermit, and pushed it + across the table. + </p> + <p> + “Send this on board the schooner at once, Mr. Carter. Wait a moment. When + our boats shove off for the sandbank have the forecastle gun fired. I want + to know when that dead man has left the ship.” + </p> + <p> + He sat alone, leaning his head on his hand, listening, listening + endlessly, for the report of the gun. Would it never come? When it came at + last muffled, distant, with a slight shock through the body of the brig he + remained still with his head leaning on his hand but with a distinct + conviction, with an almost physical certitude, that under the cotton sheet + shrouding the dead man something of himself, too, had left the ship. + </p> + <p> + IX + </p> + <p> + In a roomy cabin, furnished and fitted with austere comfort, Mr. Travers + reposed at ease in a low bed-place under a snowy white sheet and a light + silk coverlet, his head sunk in a white pillow of extreme purity. A faint + scent of lavender hung about the fresh linen. Though lying on his back + like a person who is seriously ill Mr. Travers was conscious of nothing + worse than a great fatigue. Mr. Travers' restfulness had something faintly + triumphant in it. To find himself again on board his yacht had soothed his + vanity and had revived his sense of his own importance. He contemplated it + in a distant perspective, restored to its proper surroundings and + unaffected by an adventure too extraordinary to trouble a superior mind or + even to remain in one's memory for any length of time. He was not + responsible. Like many men ambitious of directing the affairs of a nation, + Mr. Travers disliked the sense of responsibility. He would not have been + above evading it in case of need, but with perverse loftiness he really, + in his heart, scorned it. That was the reason why he was able to lie at + rest and enjoy a sense of returning vigour. But he did not care much to + talk as yet, and that was why the silence in the stateroom had lasted for + hours. The bulkhead lamp had a green silk shade. It was unnecessary to + admit for a moment the existence of impudence or ruffianism. A discreet + knocking at the cabin door sounded deferential. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers got up to see what was wanted, and returned without uttering + a single word to the folding armchair by the side of the bed-place, with + an envelope in her hand which she tore open in the greenish light. Mr. + Travers remained incurious but his wife handed to him an unfolded sheet of + paper which he condescended to hold up to his eyes. It contained only one + line of writing. He let the paper fall on the coverlet and went on + reposing as before. It was a sick man's repose. Mrs. Travers in the + armchair, with her hands on the arm-rests, had a great dignity of + attitude. + </p> + <p> + “I intend to go,” she declared after a time. + </p> + <p> + “You intend to go,” repeated Mr. Travers in a feeble, deliberate voice. + “Really, it doesn't matter what you decide to do. All this is of so little + importance. It seems to me that there can be no possible object.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” she admitted. “But don't you think that the uttermost + farthing should always be paid?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travers' head rolled over on the pillow and gave a covertly scared + look at that outspoken woman. But it rolled back again at once and the + whole man remained passive, the very embodiment of helpless exhaustion. + Mrs. Travers noticed this, and had the unexpected impression that Mr. + Travers was not so ill as he looked. “He's making the most of it. It's a + matter of diplomacy,” she thought. She thought this without irony, + bitterness, or disgust. Only her heart sank a little lower and she felt + that she could not remain in the cabin with that man for the rest of the + evening. For all life—yes! But not for that evening. + </p> + <p> + “It's simply monstrous,” murmured the man, who was either very diplomatic + or very exhausted, in a languid manner. “There is something abnormal in + you.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers got up swiftly. + </p> + <p> + “One comes across monstrous things. But I assure you that of all the + monsters that wait on what you would call a normal existence the one I + dread most is tediousness. A merciless monster without teeth or claws. + Impotent. Horrible!” + </p> + <p> + She left the stateroom, vanishing out of it with noiseless resolution. No + power on earth could have kept her in there for another minute. On deck + she found a moonless night with a velvety tepid feeling in the air, and in + the sky a mass of blurred starlight, like the tarnished tinsel of a + worn-out, very old, very tedious firmament. The usual routine of the yacht + had been already resumed, the awnings had been stretched aft, a solitary + round lamp had been hung as usual under the main boom. Out of the deep + gloom behind it d'Alcacer, a long, loose figure, lounged in the dim light + across the deck. D'Alcacer had got promptly in touch with the store of + cigarettes he owed to the Governor General's generosity. A large, + pulsating spark glowed, illuminating redly the design of his lips under + the fine dark moustache, the tip of his nose, his lean chin. D'Alcacer + reproached himself for an unwonted light-heartedness which had somehow + taken possession of him. He had not experienced that sort of feeling for + years. Reprehensible as it was he did not want anything to disturb it. But + as he could not run away openly from Mrs. Travers he advanced to meet her. + </p> + <p> + “I do hope you have nothing to tell me,” he said with whimsical + earnestness. + </p> + <p> + “I? No! Have you?” + </p> + <p> + He assured her he had not, and proffered a request. “Don't let us tell + each other anything, Mrs. Travers. Don't let us think of anything. I + believe it will be the best way to get over the evening.” There was real + anxiety in his jesting tone. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” Mrs. Travers assented, seriously. “But in that case we had + better not remain together.” She asked, then, d'Alcacer to go below and + sit with Mr. Travers who didn't like to be left alone. “Though he, too, + doesn't seem to want to be told anything,” she added, parenthetically, and + went on: “But I must ask you something else, Mr. d'Alcacer. I propose to + sit down in this chair and go to sleep—if I can. Will you promise to + call me about five o'clock? I prefer not to speak to any one on deck, and, + moreover, I can trust you.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed in silence and went away slowly. Mrs. Travers, turning her head, + perceived a steady light at the brig's yard-arm, very bright among the + tarnished stars. She walked aft and looked over the taffrail. It was + exactly like that other night. She half expected to hear presently the + low, rippling sound of an advancing boat. But the universe remained + without a sound. When she at last dropped into the deck chair she was + absolutely at the end of her power of thinking. “I suppose that's how the + condemned manage to get some sleep on the night before the execution,” she + said to herself a moment before her eyelids closed as if under a leaden + hand. + </p> + <p> + She woke up, with her face wet with tears, out of a vivid dream of Lingard + in chain-mail armour and vaguely recalling a Crusader, but bare-headed and + walking away from her in the depths of an impossible landscape. She + hurried on to catch up with him but a throng of barbarians with enormous + turbans came between them at the last moment and she lost sight of him + forever in the flurry of a ghastly sand-storm. What frightened her most + was that she had not been able to see his face. It was then that she began + to cry over her hard fate. When she woke up the tears were still rolling + down her cheeks and she perceived in the light of the deck-lamp d'Alcacer + arrested a little way off. + </p> + <p> + “Did you have to speak to me?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said d'Alcacer. “You didn't give me time. When I came as far as this + I fancied I heard you sobbing. It must have been a delusion.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. My face is wet yet. It was a dream. I suppose it is five o'clock. + Thank you for being so punctual. I have something to do before sunrise.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer moved nearer. “I know. You have decided to keep an appointment + on the sandbank. Your husband didn't utter twenty words in all these hours + but he managed to tell me that piece of news.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't have thought,” she murmured, vaguely. + </p> + <p> + “He wanted me to understand that it had no importance,” stated d'Alcacer + in a very serious tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He knows what he is talking about,” said Mrs. Travers in such a + bitter tone as to disconcert d'Alcacer for a moment. “I don't see a single + soul about the decks,” Mrs. Travers continued, almost directly. + </p> + <p> + “The very watchmen are asleep,” said d'Alcacer. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing secret in this expedition, but I prefer not to call any + one. Perhaps you wouldn't mind pulling me off yourself in our small boat.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to her that d'Alcacer showed some hesitation. She added: “It has + no importance, you know.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed his assent and preceded her down the side in silence. When she + entered the boat he had the sculls ready and directly she sat down he + shoved off. It was so dark yet that but for the brig's yard-arm light he + could not have kept his direction. He pulled a very deliberate stroke, + looking over his shoulder frequently. It was Mrs. Travers who saw first + the faint gleam of the uncovered sandspit on the black, quiet water. + </p> + <p> + “A little more to the left,” she said. “No, the other way. . . .” + D'Alcacer obeyed her directions but his stroke grew even slower than + before. She spoke again. “Don't you think that the uttermost farthing + should always be paid, Mr. d'Alcacer?” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer glanced over his shoulder, then: “It would be the only + honourable way. But it may be hard. Too hard for our common fearful + hearts.” + </p> + <p> + “I am prepared for anything.” + </p> + <p> + He ceased pulling for a moment . . . “Anything that may be found on a + sandbank,” Mrs. Travers went on. “On an arid, insignificant, and deserted + sandbank.” + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer gave two strokes and ceased again. + </p> + <p> + “There is room for a whole world of suffering on a sandbank, for all the + bitterness and resentment a human soul may be made to feel.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose you would know,” she whispered while he gave a stroke or + two and again glanced over his shoulder. She murmured the words: + </p> + <p> + “Bitterness, resentment,” and a moment afterward became aware of the keel + of the boat running up on the sand. But she didn't move, and d'Alcacer, + too, remained seated on the thwart with the blades of his sculls raised as + if ready to drop them and back the dinghy out into deep water at the first + sign. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers made no sign, but she asked, abruptly: “Mr. d'Alcacer, do you + think I shall ever come back?” + </p> + <p> + Her tone seemed to him to lack sincerity. But who could tell what this + abruptness covered—sincere fear or mere vanity? He asked himself + whether she was playing a part for his benefit, or only for herself. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think you quite understand the situation, Mrs. Travers. I don't + think you have a clear idea, either of his simplicity or of his + visionary's pride.” + </p> + <p> + She thought, contemptuously, that there were other things which d'Alcacer + didn't know and surrendered to a sudden temptation to enlighten him a + little. + </p> + <p> + “You forget his capacity for passion and that his simplicity doesn't know + its own strength.” + </p> + <p> + There was no mistaking the sincerity of that murmur. “She has felt it,” + d'Alcacer said to himself with absolute certitude. He wondered when, + where, how, on what occasion? Mrs. Travers stood up in the stern sheets + suddenly and d'Alcacer leaped on the sand to help her out of the boat. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn't I better hang about here to take you back again?” he suggested, as + he let go her hand. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't!” she exclaimed, anxiously. “You must return to the yacht. + There will be plenty of light in another hour. I will come to this spot + and wave my handkerchief when I want to be taken off.” + </p> + <p> + At their feet the shallow water slept profoundly, the ghostly gleam of the + sands baffled the eye by its lack of form. Far off, the growth of bushes + in the centre raised a massive black bulk against the stars to the + southward. Mrs. Travers lingered for a moment near the boat as if afraid + of the strange solitude of this lonely sandbank and of this lone sea that + seemed to fill the whole encircling universe of remote stars and limitless + shadows. “There is nobody here,” she whispered to herself. + </p> + <p> + “He is somewhere about waiting for you, or I don't know the man,” affirmed + d'Alcacer in an undertone. He gave a vigorous shove which sent the little + boat into the water. + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer was perfectly right. Lingard had come up on deck long before + Mrs. Travers woke up with her face wet with tears. The burial party had + returned hours before and the crew of the brig were plunged in sleep, + except for two watchmen, who at Lingard's appearance retreated noiselessly + from the poop. Lingard, leaning on the rail, fell into a sombre reverie of + his past. Reproachful spectres crowded the air, animated and vocal, not in + the articulate language of mortals but assailing him with faint sobs, deep + sighs, and fateful gestures. When he came to himself and turned about they + vanished, all but one dark shape without sound or movement. Lingard looked + at it with secret horror. + </p> + <p> + “Who's that?” he asked in a troubled voice. + </p> + <p> + The shadow moved closer: “It's only me, sir,” said Carter, who had left + orders to be called directly the Captain was seen on deck. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I might have known,” mumbled Lingard in some confusion. He + requested Carter to have a boat manned and when after a time the young man + told him that it was ready, he said “All right!” and remained leaning on + his elbow. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” said Carter after a longish silence, “but are + you going some distance?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I only want to be put ashore on the sandbank.” + </p> + <p> + Carter was relieved to hear this, but also surprised. “There is nothing + living there, sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” muttered Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “But I am certain,” Carter insisted. “The last of the women and children + belonging to those cut-throats were taken off by the sampans which brought + you and the yacht-party out.” + </p> + <p> + He walked at Lingard's elbow to the gangway and listened to his orders. + </p> + <p> + “Directly there is enough light to see flags by, make a signal to the + schooner to heave short on her cable and loose her sails. If there is any + hanging back give them a blank gun, Mr. Carter. I will have no + shilly-shallying. If she doesn't go at the word, by heavens, I will drive + her out. I am still master here—for another day.” + </p> + <p> + The overwhelming sense of immensity, of disturbing emptiness, which + affects those who walk on the sands in the midst of the sea, intimidated + Mrs. Travers. The world resembled a limitless flat shadow which was + motionless and elusive. Then against the southern stars she saw a human + form that isolated and lone appeared to her immense: the shape of a giant + outlined amongst the constellations. As it approached her it shrank to + common proportions, got clear of the stars, lost its awesomeness, and + became menacing in its ominous and silent advance. Mrs. Travers hastened + to speak. + </p> + <p> + “You have asked for me. I am come. I trust you will have no reason to + regret my obedience.” + </p> + <p> + He walked up quite close to her, bent down slightly to peer into her face. + The first of the tropical dawn put its characteristic cold sheen into the + sky above the Shore of Refuge. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers did not turn away her head. + </p> + <p> + “Are you looking for a change in me? No. You won't see it. Now I know that + I couldn't change even if I wanted to. I am made of clay that is too + hard.” + </p> + <p> + “I am looking at you for the first time,” said Lingard. “I never could see + you before. There were too many things, too many thoughts, too many + people. No, I never saw you before. But now the world is dead.” + </p> + <p> + He grasped her shoulders, approaching his face close to hers. She never + flinched. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the world is dead,” she said. “Look your fill then. It won't be for + long.” + </p> + <p> + He let her go as suddenly as though she had struck him. The cold white + light of the tropical dawn had crept past the zenith now and the expanse + of the shallow waters looked cold, too, without stir or ripple within the + enormous rim of the horizon where, to the west, a shadow lingered still. + </p> + <p> + “Take my arm,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She did so at once, and turning their backs on the two ships they began to + walk along the sands, but they had not made many steps when Mrs. Travers + perceived an oblong mound with a board planted upright at one end. Mrs. + Travers knew that part of the sands. It was here she used to walk with her + husband and d'Alcacer every evening after dinner, while the yacht lay + stranded and her boats were away in search of assistance—which they + had found—which they had found! This was something that she had + never seen there before. Lingard had suddenly stopped and looked at it + moodily. She pressed his arm to rouse him and asked, “What is this?” + </p> + <p> + “This is a grave,” said Lingard in a low voice, and still gazing at the + heap of sand. “I had him taken out of the ship last night. Strange,” he + went on in a musing tone, “how much a grave big enough for one man only + can hold. His message was to forget everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Never, never,” murmured Mrs. Travers. “I wish I had been on board the + Emma. . . . You had a madman there,” she cried out, suddenly. They moved + on again, Lingard looking at Mrs. Travers who was leaning on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder which of us two was mad,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder you can bear to look at me,” she murmured. Then Lingard spoke + again. + </p> + <p> + “I had to see you once more.” + </p> + <p> + “That abominable Jorgenson,” she whispered to herself. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, he gave me my chance—before he gave me up.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers disengaged her arm and Lingard stopped, too, facing her in a + long silence. + </p> + <p> + “I could not refuse to meet you,” said Mrs. Travers at last. “I could not + refuse you anything. You have all the right on your side and I don't care + what you do or say. But I wonder at my own courage when I think of the + confession I have to make.” She advanced, laid her hand on Lingard's + shoulder and spoke earnestly. “I shuddered at the thought of meeting you + again. And now you must listen to my confession.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say a word,” said Lingard in an untroubled voice and never taking + his eyes from her face. “I know already.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't,” she cried. Her hand slipped off his shoulder. “Then why don't + you throw me into the sea?” she asked, passionately. “Am I to live on + hating myself?” + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't!” he said with an accent of fear. “Haven't you understood + long ago that if you had given me that ring it would have been just the + same?” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to believe this? No, no! You are too generous to a mere sham. You + are the most magnanimous of men but you are throwing it away on me. Do you + think it is remorse that I feel? No. If it is anything it is despair. But + you must have known that—and yet you wanted to look at me again.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you I never had a chance before,” said Lingard in an unmoved + voice. “It was only after I heard they gave you the ring that I felt the + hold you have got on me. How could I tell before? What has hate or love to + do with you and me? Hate. Love. What can touch you? For me you stand above + death itself; for I see now that as long as I live you will never die.” + </p> + <p> + They confronted each other at the southern edge of the sands as if afloat + on the open sea. The central ridge heaped up by the winds masked from them + the very mastheads of the two ships and the growing brightness of the + light only augmented the sense of their invincible solitude in the awful + serenity of the world. Mrs. Travers suddenly put her arm across her eyes + and averted her face. + </p> + <p> + Then he added: + </p> + <p> + “That's all.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Travers let fall her arm and began to retrace her steps, unsupported + and alone. Lingard followed her on the edge of the sand uncovered by the + ebbing tide. A belt of orange light appeared in the cold sky above the + black forest of the Shore of Refuge and faded quickly to gold that melted + soon into a blinding and colourless glare. It was not till after she had + passed Jaffir's grave that Mrs. Travers stole a backward glance and + discovered that she was alone. Lingard had left her to herself. She saw + him sitting near the mound of sand, his back bowed, his hands clasping his + knees, as if he had obeyed the invincible call of his great visions + haunting the grave of the faithful messenger. Shading her eyes with her + hand Mrs. Travers watched the immobility of that man of infinite + illusions. He never moved, he never raised his head. It was all over. He + was done with her. She waited a little longer and then went slowly on her + way. + </p> + <p> + Shaw, now acting second mate of the yacht, came off with another hand in a + little boat to take Mrs. Travers on board. He stared at her like an + offended owl. How the lady could suddenly appear at sunrise waving her + handkerchief from the sandbank he could not understand. For, even if she + had managed to row herself off secretly in the dark, she could not have + sent the empty boat back to the yacht. It was to Shaw a sort of improper + miracle. + </p> + <p> + D'Alcacer hurried to the top of the side ladder and as they met on deck + Mrs. Travers astonished him by saying in a strangely provoking tone: + </p> + <p> + “You were right. I have come back.” Then with a little laugh which + impressed d'Alcacer painfully she added with a nod downward, “and Martin, + too, was perfectly right. It was absolutely unimportant.” + </p> + <p> + She walked on straight to the taffrail and d'Alcacer followed her aft, + alarmed at her white face, at her brusque movements, at the nervous way in + which she was fumbling at her throat. He waited discreetly till she turned + round and thrust out toward him her open palm on which he saw a thick gold + ring set with a large green stone. + </p> + <p> + “Look at this, Mr. d'Alcacer. This is the thing which I asked you whether + I should give up or conceal—the symbol of the last hour—the + call of the supreme minute. And he said it would have made no difference! + He is the most magnanimous of men and the uttermost farthing has been + paid. He has done with me. The most magnanimous . . . but there is a grave + on the sands by which I left him sitting with no glance to spare for me. + His last glance on earth! I am left with this thing. Absolutely + unimportant. A dead talisman.” With a nervous jerk she flung the ring + overboard, then with a hurried entreaty to d'Alcacer, “Stay here a moment. + Don't let anybody come near us,” she burst into tears and turned her back + on him. + </p> + <p> + Lingard returned on board his brig and in the early afternoon the + Lightning got under way, running past the schooner to give her a lead + through the maze of Shoals. Lingard was on deck but never looked once at + the following vessel. Directly both ships were in clear water he went + below saying to Carter: “You know what to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Carter. + </p> + <p> + Shortly after his Captain had disappeared from the deck Carter laid the + main topsail to the mast. The Lightning lost her way while the schooner + with all her light kites abroad passed close under her stern holding on + her course. Mrs. Travers stood aft very rigid, gripping the rail with both + hands. The brim of her white hat was blown upward on one side and her + yachting skirt stirred in the breeze. By her side d'Alcacer waved his hand + courteously. Carter raised his cap to them. + </p> + <p> + During the afternoon he paced the poop with measured steps, with a pair of + binoculars in his hand. At last he laid the glasses down, glanced at the + compass-card and walked to the cabin skylight which was open. + </p> + <p> + “Just lost her, sir,” he said. All was still down there. He raised his + voice a little: + </p> + <p> + “You told me to let you know directly I lost sight of the yacht.” + </p> + <p> + The sound of a stifled groan reached the attentive Carter and a weary + voice said, “All right, I am coming.” + </p> + <p> + When Lingard stepped out on the poop of the Lightning the open water had + turned purple already in the evening light, while to the east the Shallows + made a steely glitter all along the sombre line of the shore. Lingard, + with folded arms, looked over the sea. Carter approached him and spoke + quietly. + </p> + <p> + “The tide has turned and the night is coming on. Hadn't we better get away + from these Shoals, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard did not stir. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the night is coming on. You may fill the main topsail, Mr. Carter,” + he said and he relapsed into silence with his eyes fixed in the southern + board where the shadows were creeping stealthily toward the setting sun. + Presently Carter stood at his elbow again. + </p> + <p> + “The brig is beginning to forge ahead, sir,” he said in a warning tone. + </p> + <p> + Lingard came out of his absorption with a deep tremor of his powerful + frame like the shudder of an uprooted tree. + </p> + <p> + “How was the yacht heading when you lost sight of her?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “South as near as possible,” answered Carter. “Will you give me a course + to steer for the night, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard's lips trembled before he spoke but his voice was calm. + </p> + <p> + “Steer north,” he said. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rescue, by Joseph Conrad + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RESCUE *** + +***** This file should be named 1712-h.htm or 1712-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/1/1712/ + +Produced by Judy Boss and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Rescue + +Author: Joseph Conrad + +Release Date: January 9, 2006 [EBook #1712] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RESCUE *** + + + + +Produced by Judy Boss and David Widger + + + + + +THE RESCUE + +A ROMANCE OF THE SHALLOWS + + +By Joseph Conrad + + +'Allas!' quod she, 'that ever this sholde happe! For wende I never, +by possibilitee, That swich a monstre or merveille mighte be!'--THE +FRANKELEYN'S TALE + + +TO FREDERIC COURTLAND PENFIELD LAST AMBASSADOR OF THE UNITED STATES OF +AMERICA TO THE LATE AUSTRIAN EMPIRE, THIS OLD TIME TALE IS GRATEFULLY +INSCRIBED IN MEMORY OF THE RESCUE OF CERTAIN DISTRESSED TRAVELLERS +EFFECTED BY HIM IN THE WORLD'S GREAT STORM OF THE YEAR 1914 + + + + +AUTHOR'S NOTE + +Of the three long novels of mine which suffered an interruption, "The +Rescue" was the one that had to wait the longest for the good pleasure +of the Fates. I am betraying no secret when I state here that it had +to wait precisely for twenty years. I laid it aside at the end of the +summer of 1898 and it was about the end of the summer of 1918 that I +took it up again with the firm determination to see the end of it and +helped by the sudden feeling that I might be equal to the task. + +This does not mean that I turned to it with elation. I was well aware +and perhaps even too much aware of the dangers of such an adventure. +The amazingly sympathetic kindness which men of various temperaments, +diverse views and different literary tastes have been for years +displaying towards my work has done much for me, has done all--except +giving me that over-weening self-confidence which may assist an +adventurer sometimes but in the long run ends by leading him to the +gallows. + +As the characteristic I want most to impress upon these short Author's +Notes prepared for my first Collected Edition is that of absolute +frankness, I hasten to declare that I founded my hopes not on my +supposed merits but on the continued goodwill of my readers. I may say +at once that my hopes have been justified out of all proportion to my +deserts. I met with the most considerate, most delicately expressed +criticism free from all antagonism and in its conclusions showing +an insight which in itself could not fail to move me deeply, but was +associated also with enough commendation to make me feel rich beyond the +dreams of avarice--I mean an artist's avarice which seeks its treasure +in the hearts of men and women. + +No! Whatever the preliminary anxieties might have been this adventure +was not to end in sorrow. Once more Fortune favoured audacity; and yet +I have never forgotten the jocular translation of _Audaces fortuna juvat_ +offered to me by my tutor when I was a small boy: "The Audacious get +bitten." However he took care to mention that there were various kinds +of audacity. Oh, there are, there are! . . . There is, for instance, the +kind of audacity almost indistinguishable from impudence. . . . I +must believe that in this case I have not been impudent for I am not +conscious of having been bitten. + +The truth is that when "The Rescue" was laid aside it was not laid aside +in despair. Several reasons contributed to this abandonment and, no +doubt, the first of them was the growing sense of general difficulty in +the handling of the subject. The contents and the course of the story I +had clearly in my mind. But as to the way of presenting the facts, and +perhaps in a certain measure as to the nature of the facts themselves, +I had many doubts. I mean the telling, representative facts, helpful +to carry on the idea, and, at the same time, of such a nature as not to +demand an elaborate creation of the atmosphere to the detriment of +the action. I did not see how I could avoid becoming wearisome in the +presentation of detail and in the pursuit of clearness. I saw the action +plainly enough. What I had lost for the moment was the sense of the +proper formula of expression, the only formula that would suit. This, +of course, weakened my confidence in the intrinsic worth and in the +possible interest of the story--that is in my invention. But I suspect +that all the trouble was, in reality, the doubt of my prose, the doubt +of its adequacy, of its power to master both the colours and the shades. + +It is difficult to describe, exactly as I remember it, the complex state +of my feelings; but those of my readers who take an interest in artistic +perplexities will understand me best when I point out that I dropped +"The Rescue" not to give myself up to idleness, regrets, or dreaming, +but to begin "The Nigger of the 'Narcissus'" and to go on with it +without hesitation and without a pause. A comparison of any page of +"The Rescue" with any page of "The Nigger" will furnish an ocular +demonstration of the nature and the inward meaning of this first crisis +of my writing life. For it was a crisis undoubtedly. The laying aside of +a work so far advanced was a very awful decision to take. It was +wrung from me by a sudden conviction that _there_ only was the road of +salvation, the clear way out for an uneasy conscience. The finishing +of "The Nigger" brought to my troubled mind the comforting sense of +an accomplished task, and the first consciousness of a certain sort +of mastery which could accomplish something with the aid of propitious +stars. Why I did not return to "The Rescue" at once then, was not for +the reason that I had grown afraid of it. Being able now to assume a +firm attitude I said to myself deliberately: "That thing can wait." At +the same time I was just as certain in my mind that "Youth," a story +which I had then, so to speak, on the tip of my pen, could _not_ wait. +Neither could "Heart of Darkness" be put off; for the practical reason +that Mr. Wm. Blackwood having requested me to write something for the +No. M of his magazine I had to stir up at once the subject of that tale +which had been long lying quiescent in my mind, because, obviously, the +venerable Maga at her patriarchal age of 1000 numbers could not be kept +waiting. Then "Lord Jim," with about seventeen pages already written at +odd times, put in his claim which was irresistible. Thus every stroke +of the pen was taking me further away from the abandoned "Rescue," not +without some compunction on my part but with a gradually diminishing +resistance; till at last I let myself go as if recognising a superior +influence against which it was useless to contend. + +The years passed and the pages grew in number, and the long reveries of +which they were the outcome stretched wide between me and the deserted +"Rescue" like the smooth hazy spaces of a dreamy sea. Yet I never +actually lost sight of that dark speck in the misty distance. It +had grown very small but it asserted itself with the appeal of old +associations. It seemed to me that it would be a base thing for me to +slip out of the world leaving it out there all alone, waiting for its +fate--that would never come? + +Sentiment, pure sentiment as you see, prompted me in the last instance +to face the pains and hazards of that return. As I moved slowly towards +the abandoned body of the tale it loomed up big amongst the glittering +shallows of the coast, lonely but not forbidding. There was nothing +about it of a grim derelict. It had an air of expectant life. One after +another I made out the familiar faces watching my approach with faint +smiles of amused recognition. They had known well enough that I was +bound to come back to them. But their eyes met mine seriously as was +only to be expected since I, myself, felt very serious as I stood +amongst them again after years of absence. At once, without wasting +words, we went to work together on our renewed life; and every moment +I felt more strongly that They Who had Waited bore no grudge to the man +who however widely he may have wandered at times had played truant only +once in his life. + +1920. J. C. + + + + +CONTENTS + +PART I. THE MAN AND THE BRIG + +PART II. THE SHORE OF REFUGE + +PART III. THE CAPTURE + +PART IV. THE GIFT OF THE SHALLOWS + +PART V. THE POINT OF HONOUR AND THE POINT OF PASSION + +PART VI. THE CLAIM OF LIFE AND THE TOLL OF DEATH + + + + +PART I. THE MAN AND THE BRIG + +The shallow sea that foams and murmurs on the shores of the thousand +islands, big and little, which make up the Malay Archipelago has been +for centuries the scene of adventurous undertakings. The vices and the +virtues of four nations have been displayed in the conquest of that +region that even to this day has not been robbed of all the mystery +and romance of its past--and the race of men who had fought against +the Portuguese, the Spaniards, the Dutch and the English, has not been +changed by the unavoidable defeat. They have kept to this day their +love of liberty, their fanatical devotion to their chiefs, their +blind fidelity in friendship and hate--all their lawful and unlawful +instincts. Their country of land and water--for the sea was as much +their country as the earth of their islands--has fallen a prey to the +western race--the reward of superior strength if not of superior virtue. +To-morrow the advancing civilization will obliterate the marks of a long +struggle in the accomplishment of its inevitable victory. + +The adventurers who began that struggle have left no descendants. The +ideas of the world changed too quickly for that. But even far into the +present century they have had successors. Almost in our own day we have +seen one of them--a true adventurer in his devotion to his impulse--a +man of high mind and of pure heart, lay the foundation of a flourishing +state on the ideas of pity and justice. He recognized chivalrously the +claims of the conquered; he was a disinterested adventurer, and the +reward of his noble instincts is in the veneration with which a strange +and faithful race cherish his memory. + +Misunderstood and traduced in life, the glory of his achievement has +vindicated the purity of his motives. He belongs to history. But there +were others--obscure adventurers who had not his advantages of birth, +position, and intelligence; who had only his sympathy with the people of +forests and sea he understood and loved so well. They can not be said +to be forgotten since they have not been known at all. They were lost +in the common crowd of seamen-traders of the Archipelago, and if +they emerged from their obscurity it was only to be condemned as +law-breakers. Their lives were thrown away for a cause that had no right +to exist in the face of an irresistible and orderly progress--their +thoughtless lives guided by a simple feeling. + +But the wasted lives, for the few who know, have tinged with romance the +region of shallow waters and forest-clad islands, that lies far east, +and still mysterious between the deep waters of two oceans. + + +I + +Out of the level blue of a shallow sea Carimata raises a lofty +barrenness of grey and yellow tints, the drab eminence of its arid +heights. Separated by a narrow strip of water, Suroeton, to the west, +shows a curved and ridged outline resembling the backbone of a stooping +giant. And to the eastward a troop of insignificant islets stand +effaced, indistinct, with vague features that seem to melt into the +gathering shadows. The night following from the eastward the retreat of +the setting sun advanced slowly, swallowing the land and the sea; the +land broken, tormented and abrupt; the sea smooth and inviting with its +easy polish of continuous surface to wanderings facile and endless. + +There was no wind, and a small brig that had lain all the afternoon a +few miles to the northward and westward of Carimata had hardly altered +its position half a mile during all these hours. The calm was absolute, +a dead, flat calm, the stillness of a dead sea and of a dead atmosphere. +As far as the eye could reach there was nothing but an impressive +immobility. Nothing moved on earth, on the waters, and above them in the +unbroken lustre of the sky. On the unruffled surface of the straits the +brig floated tranquil and upright as if bolted solidly, keel to keel, +with its own image reflected in the unframed and immense mirror of +the sea. To the south and east the double islands watched silently the +double ship that seemed fixed amongst them forever, a hopeless captive +of the calm, a helpless prisoner of the shallow sea. + +Since midday, when the light and capricious airs of these seas had +abandoned the little brig to its lingering fate, her head had swung +slowly to the westward and the end of her slender and polished jib-boom, +projecting boldly beyond the graceful curve of the bow, pointed at the +setting sun, like a spear poised high in the hand of an enemy. Right +aft by the wheel the Malay quartermaster stood with his bare, brown feet +firmly planted on the wheel-grating, and holding the spokes at right +angles, in a solid grasp, as though the ship had been running before a +gale. He stood there perfectly motionless, as if petrified but ready +to tend the helm as soon as fate would permit the brig to gather way +through the oily sea. + +The only other human being then visible on the brig's deck was the +person in charge: a white man of low stature, thick-set, with shaven +cheeks, a grizzled moustache, and a face tinted a scarlet hue by the +burning suns and by the sharp salt breezes of the seas. He had thrown +off his light jacket, and clad only in white trousers and a thin cotton +singlet, with his stout arms crossed on his breast--upon which they +showed like two thick lumps of raw flesh--he prowled about from side to +side of the half-poop. On his bare feet he wore a pair of straw sandals, +and his head was protected by an enormous pith hat--once white but now +very dirty--which gave to the whole man the aspect of a phenomenal +and animated mushroom. At times he would interrupt his uneasy shuffle +athwart the break of the poop, and stand motionless with a vague gaze +fixed on the image of the brig in the calm water. He could also see down +there his own head and shoulders leaning out over the rail and he would +stand long, as if interested by his own features, and mutter vague +curses on the calm which lay upon the ship like an immovable burden, +immense and burning. + +At last, he sighed profoundly, nerved himself for a great effort, and +making a start away from the rail managed to drag his slippers as far +as the binnacle. There he stopped again, exhausted and bored. From under +the lifted glass panes of the cabin skylight near by came the feeble +chirp of a canary, which appeared to give him some satisfaction. He +listened, smiled faintly muttered "Dicky, poor Dick--" and fell back +into the immense silence of the world. His eyes closed, his head hung +low over the hot brass of the binnacle top. Suddenly he stood up with a +jerk and said sharply in a hoarse voice: + +"You've been sleeping--you. Shift the helm. She has got stern way on +her." + +The Malay, without the least flinch of feature or pose, as if he had +been an inanimate object called suddenly into life by some hidden magic +of the words, spun the wheel rapidly, letting the spokes pass through +his hands; and when the motion had stopped with a grinding noise, caught +hold again and held on grimly. After a while, however, he turned his +head slowly over his shoulder, glanced at the sea, and said in an +obstinate tone: + +"No catch wind--no get way." + +"No catch--no catch--that's all you know about it," growled the +red-faced seaman. "By and by catch Ali--" he went on with sudden +condescension. "By and by catch, and then the helm will be the right +way. See?" + +The stolid seacannie appeared to see, and for that matter to hear, +nothing. The white man looked at the impassive Malay with disgust, +then glanced around the horizon--then again at the helmsman and ordered +curtly: + +"Shift the helm back again. Don't you feel the air from aft? You are +like a dummy standing there." + +The Malay revolved the spokes again with disdainful obedience, and the +red-faced man was moving forward grunting to himself, when through the +open skylight the hail "On deck there!" arrested him short, attentive, +and with a sudden change to amiability in the expression of his face. + +"Yes, sir," he said, bending his ear toward the opening. "What's the +matter up there?" asked a deep voice from below. + +The red-faced man in a tone of surprise said: + +"Sir?" + +"I hear that rudder grinding hard up and hard down. What are you up to, +Shaw? Any wind?" + +"Ye-es," drawled Shaw, putting his head down the skylight and speaking +into the gloom of the cabin. "I thought there was a light air, and--but +it's gone now. Not a breath anywhere under the heavens." + +He withdrew his head and waited a while by the skylight, but heard +only the chirping of the indefatigable canary, a feeble twittering that +seemed to ooze through the drooping red blossoms of geraniums growing in +flower-pots under the glass panes. He strolled away a step or two before +the voice from down below called hurriedly: + +"Hey, Shaw? Are you there?" + +"Yes, Captain Lingard," he answered, stepping back. "Have we drifted +anything this afternoon?" + +"Not an inch, sir, not an inch. We might as well have been at anchor." + +"It's always so," said the invisible Lingard. His voice changed its tone +as he moved in the cabin, and directly afterward burst out with a +clear intonation while his head appeared above the slide of the cabin +entrance: + +"Always so! The currents don't begin till it's dark, when a man can't +see against what confounded thing he is being drifted, and then the +breeze will come. Dead on end, too, I don't doubt." + +Shaw moved his shoulders slightly. The Malay at the wheel, after making +a dive to see the time by the cabin clock through the skylight, rang a +double stroke on the small bell aft. Directly forward, on the main deck, +a shrill whistle arose long drawn, modulated, dying away softly. The +master of the brig stepped out of the companion upon the deck of his +vessel, glanced aloft at the yards laid dead square; then, from the +door-step, took a long, lingering look round the horizon. + +He was about thirty-five, erect and supple. He moved freely, more like +a man accustomed to stride over plains and hills, than like one who from +his earliest youth had been used to counteract by sudden swayings of his +body the rise and roll of cramped decks of small craft, tossed by the +caprice of angry or playful seas. + +He wore a grey flannel shirt, and his white trousers were held by a blue +silk scarf wound tightly round his narrow waist. He had come up only for +a moment, but finding the poop shaded by the main-topsail he remained +on deck bareheaded. The light chestnut hair curled close about his +well-shaped head, and the clipped beard glinted vividly when he passed +across a narrow strip of sunlight, as if every hair in it had been +a wavy and attenuated gold wire. His mouth was lost in the heavy +moustache; his nose was straight, short, slightly blunted at the end; +a broad band of deeper red stretched under the eyes, clung to the cheek +bones. The eyes gave the face its remarkable expression. The eyebrows, +darker than the hair, pencilled a straight line below the wide and +unwrinkled brow much whiter than the sunburnt face. The eyes, as if +glowing with the light of a hidden fire, had a red glint in their +greyness that gave a scrutinizing ardour to the steadiness of their +gaze. + +That man, once so well known, and now so completely forgotten amongst +the charming and heartless shores of the shallow sea, had amongst his +fellows the nickname of "Red-Eyed Tom." He was proud of his luck but not +of his good sense. He was proud of his brig, of the speed of his craft, +which was reckoned the swiftest country vessel in those seas, and proud +of what she represented. + +She represented a run of luck on the Victorian goldfields; his sagacious +moderation; long days of planning, of loving care in building; the +great joy of his youth, the incomparable freedom of the seas; a perfect +because a wandering home; his independence, his love--and his anxiety. +He had often heard men say that Tom Lingard cared for nothing on earth +but for his brig--and in his thoughts he would smilingly correct the +statement by adding that he cared for nothing _living_ but the brig. + +To him she was as full of life as the great world. He felt her live in +every motion, in every roll, in every sway of her tapering masts, +of those masts whose painted trucks move forever, to a seaman's +eye, against the clouds or against the stars. To him she was always +precious--like old love; always desirable--like a strange woman; always +tender--like a mother; always faithful--like the favourite daughter of a +man's heart. + +For hours he would stand elbow on rail, his head in his hand and +listen--and listen in dreamy stillness to the cajoling and promising +whisper of the sea, that slipped past in vanishing bubbles along the +smooth black-painted sides of his craft. What passed in such moments +of thoughtful solitude through the mind of that child of generations of +fishermen from the coast of Devon, who like most of his class was +dead to the subtle voices, and blind to the mysterious aspects of the +world--the man ready for the obvious, no matter how startling, how +terrible or menacing, yet defenceless as a child before the shadowy +impulses of his own heart; what could have been the thoughts of such a +man, when once surrendered to a dreamy mood, it is difficult to say. + +No doubt he, like most of us, would be uplifted at times by the awakened +lyrism of his heart into regions charming, empty, and dangerous. But +also, like most of us, he was unaware of his barren journeys above the +interesting cares of this earth. Yet from these, no doubt absurd and +wasted moments, there remained on the man's daily life a tinge as that +of a glowing and serene half-light. It softened the outlines of his +rugged nature; and these moments kept close the bond between him and his +brig. + +He was aware that his little vessel could give him something not to be +had from anybody or anything in the world; something specially his own. +The dependence of that solid man of bone and muscle on that obedient +thing of wood and iron, acquired from that feeling the mysterious +dignity of love. She--the craft--had all the qualities of a living +thing: speed, obedience, trustworthiness, endurance, beauty, capacity +to do and to suffer--all but life. He--the man--was the inspirer of that +thing that to him seemed the most perfect of its kind. His will was +its will, his thought was its impulse, his breath was the breath of +its existence. He felt all this confusedly, without ever shaping this +feeling into the soundless formulas of thought. To him she was unique +and dear, this brig of three hundred and fourteen tons register--a +kingdom! + +And now, bareheaded and burly, he walked the deck of his kingdom with a +regular stride. He stepped out from the hip, swinging his arms with +the free motion of a man starting out for a fifteen-mile walk into open +country; yet at every twelfth stride he had to turn about sharply and +pace back the distance to the taffrail. + +Shaw, with his hands stuck in his waistband, had hooked himself with +both elbows to the rail, and gazed apparently at the deck between his +feet. In reality he was contemplating a little house with a tiny front +garden, lost in a maze of riverside streets in the east end of London. +The circumstance that he had not, as yet, been able to make the +acquaintance of his son--now aged eighteen months--worried him slightly, +and was the cause of that flight of his fancy into the murky atmosphere +of his home. But it was a placid flight followed by a quick return. +In less than two minutes he was back in the brig. "All there," as his +saying was. He was proud of being always "all there." + +He was abrupt in manner and grumpy in speech with the seamen. To his +successive captains, he was outwardly as deferential as he knew how, and +as a rule inwardly hostile--so very few seemed to him of the "all there" +kind. Of Lingard, with whom he had only been a short time--having been +picked up in Madras Roads out of a home ship, which he had to leave +after a thumping row with the master--he generally approved, although he +recognized with regret that this man, like most others, had some absurd +fads; he defined them as "bottom-upwards notions." + +He was a man--as there were many--of no particular value to anybody but +himself, and of no account but as the chief mate of the brig, and the +only white man on board of her besides the captain. He felt himself +immeasurably superior to the Malay seamen whom he had to handle, and +treated them with lofty toleration, notwithstanding his opinion that at +a pinch those chaps would be found emphatically "not there." + +As soon as his mind came back from his home leave, he detached himself +from the rail and, walking forward, stood by the break of the poop, +looking along the port side of the main deck. Lingard on his own side +stopped in his walk and also gazed absentmindedly before him. In the +waist of the brig, in the narrow spars that were lashed on each side of +the hatchway, he could see a group of men squatting in a circle around a +wooden tray piled up with rice, which stood on the just swept deck. +The dark-faced, soft-eyed silent men, squatting on their hams, fed +decorously with an earnestness that did not exclude reserve. + +Of the lot, only one or two wore sarongs, the others having +submitted--at least at sea--to the indignity of European trousers. Only +two sat on the spars. One, a man with a childlike, light yellow face, +smiling with fatuous imbecility under the wisps of straight coarse hair +dyed a mahogany tint, was the tindal of the crew--a kind of boatswain's +or serang's mate. The other, sitting beside him on the booms, was a +man nearly black, not much bigger than a large ape, and wearing on +his wrinkled face that look of comical truculence which is often +characteristic of men from the southwestern coast of Sumatra. + +This was the kassab or store-keeper, the holder of a position of dignity +and ease. The kassab was the only one of the crew taking their evening +meal who noticed the presence on deck of their commander. He muttered +something to the tindal who directly cocked his old hat on one +side, which senseless action invested him with an altogether foolish +appearance. The others heard, but went on somnolently feeding with +spidery movements of their lean arms. + +The sun was no more than a degree or so above the horizon, and from the +heated surface of the waters a slight low mist began to rise; a mist +thin, invisible to the human eye; yet strong enough to change the sun +into a mere glowing red disc, a disc vertical and hot, rolling down to +the edge of the horizontal and cold-looking disc of the shining sea. +Then the edges touched and the circular expanse of water took on +suddenly a tint, sombre, like a frown; deep, like the brooding +meditation of evil. + +The falling sun seemed to be arrested for a moment in his descent by the +sleeping waters, while from it, to the motionless brig, shot out on +the polished and dark surface of the sea a track of light, straight and +shining, resplendent and direct; a path of gold and crimson and purple, +a path that seemed to lead dazzling and terrible from the earth straight +into heaven through the portals of a glorious death. It faded slowly. +The sea vanquished the light. At last only a vestige of the sun +remained, far off, like a red spark floating on the water. It lingered, +and all at once--without warning--went out as if extinguished by a +treacherous hand. + +"Gone," cried Lingard, who had watched intently yet missed the last +moment. "Gone! Look at the cabin clock, Shaw!" + +"Nearly right, I think, sir. Three minutes past six." + +The helmsman struck four bells sharply. Another barefooted seacannie +glided on the far side of the poop to relieve the wheel, and the serang +of the brig came up the ladder to take charge of the deck from Shaw. He +came up to the compass, and stood waiting silently. + +"The course is south by east when you get the wind, serang," said Shaw, +distinctly. + +"Sou' by eas'," repeated the elderly Malay with grave earnestness. + +"Let me know when she begins to steer," added Lingard. + +"Ya, Tuan," answered the man, glancing rapidly at the sky. "Wind +coming," he muttered. + +"I think so, too," whispered Lingard as if to himself. + +The shadows were gathering rapidly round the brig. A mulatto put his +head out of the companion and called out: + +"Ready, sir." + +"Let's get a mouthful of something to eat, Shaw," said Lingard. "I say, +just take a look around before coming below. It will be dark when we +come up again." + +"Certainly, sir," said Shaw, taking up a long glass and putting it to +his eyes. "Blessed thing," he went on in snatches while he worked the +tubes in and out, "I can't--never somehow--Ah! I've got it right at +last!" + +He revolved slowly on his heels, keeping the end of the tube on the +sky-line. Then he shut the instrument with a click, and said decisively: + +"Nothing in sight, sir." + +He followed his captain down below rubbing his hands cheerfully. + +For a good while there was no sound on the poop of the brig. Then the +seacannie at the wheel spoke dreamily: + +"Did the malim say there was no one on the sea?" + +"Yes," grunted the serang without looking at the man behind him. + +"Between the islands there was a boat," pronounced the man very softly. + +The serang, his hands behind his back, his feet slightly apart, stood +very straight and stiff by the side of the compass stand. His face, now +hardly visible, was as inexpressive as the door of a safe. + +"Now, listen to me," insisted the helmsman in a gentle tone. + +The man in authority did not budge a hair's breadth. The seacannie bent +down a little from the height of the wheel grating. + +"I saw a boat," he murmured with something of the tender obstinacy of +a lover begging for a favour. "I saw a boat, O Haji Wasub! Ya! Haji +Wasub!" + +The serang had been twice a pilgrim, and was not insensible to the sound +of his rightful title. There was a grim smile on his face. + +"You saw a floating tree, O Sali," he said, ironically. + +"I am Sali, and my eyes are better than the bewitched brass thing that +pulls out to a great length," said the pertinacious helmsman. "There was +a boat, just clear of the easternmost island. There was a boat, and +they in her could see the ship on the light of the west--unless they are +blind men lost on the sea. I have seen her. Have you seen her, too, O +Haji Wasub?" + +"Am I a fat white man?" snapped the serang. "I was a man of the sea +before you were born, O Sali! The order is to keep silence and mind the +rudder, lest evil befall the ship." + +After these words he resumed his rigid aloofness. He stood, his legs +slightly apart, very stiff and straight, a little on one side of the +compass stand. His eyes travelled incessantly from the illuminated card +to the shadowy sails of the brig and back again, while his body was +motionless as if made of wood and built into the ship's frame. Thus, +with a forced and tense watchfulness, Haji Wasub, serang of the brig +Lightning, kept the captain's watch unwearied and wakeful, a slave to +duty. + +In half an hour after sunset the darkness had taken complete possession +of earth and heavens. The islands had melted into the night. And on the +smooth water of the Straits, the little brig lying so still, seemed +to sleep profoundly, wrapped up in a scented mantle of star light and +silence. + + + +II + +It was half-past eight o'clock before Lingard came on deck again. +Shaw--now with a coat on--trotted up and down the poop leaving behind +him a smell of tobacco smoke. An irregularly glowing spark seemed to run +by itself in the darkness before the rounded form of his head. Above the +masts of the brig the dome of the clear heaven was full of lights that +flickered, as if some mighty breathings high up there had been swaying +about the flame of the stars. There was no sound along the brig's decks, +and the heavy shadows that lay on it had the aspect, in that silence, +of secret places concealing crouching forms that waited in perfect +stillness for some decisive event. Lingard struck a match to light his +cheroot, and his powerful face with narrowed eyes stood out for a moment +in the night and vanished suddenly. Then two shadowy forms and two red +sparks moved backward and forward on the poop. A larger, but a paler +and oval patch of light from the compass lamps lay on the brasses of +the wheel and on the breast of the Malay standing by the helm. Lingard's +voice, as if unable altogether to master the enormous silence of the +sea, sounded muffled, very calm--without the usual deep ring in it. + +"Not much change, Shaw," he said. + +"No, sir, not much. I can just see the island--the big one--still in +the same place. It strikes me, sir, that, for calms, this here sea is a +devil of locality." + +He cut "locality" in two with an emphatic pause. It was a good word. He +was pleased with himself for thinking of it. He went on again: + +"Now--since noon, this big island--" + +"Carimata, Shaw," interrupted Lingard. + +"Aye, sir; Carimata--I mean. I must say--being a stranger hereabouts--I +haven't got the run of those--" + +He was going to say "names" but checked himself and said, +"appellations," instead, sounding every syllable lovingly. + +"Having for these last fifteen years," he continued, "sailed regularly +from London in East-Indiamen, I am more at home over there--in the Bay." + +He pointed into the night toward the northwest and stared as if he could +see from where he stood that Bay of Bengal where--as he affirmed--he +would be so much more at home. + +"You'll soon get used--" muttered Lingard, swinging in his rapid walk +past his mate. Then he turned round, came back, and asked sharply. + +"You said there was nothing afloat in sight before dark? Hey?" + +"Not that I could see, sir. When I took the deck again at eight, I asked +that serang whether there was anything about; and I understood him to +say there was no more as when I went below at six. This is a lonely sea +at times--ain't it, sir? Now, one would think at this time of the year +the homeward-bounders from China would be pretty thick here." + +"Yes," said Lingard, "we have met very few ships since we left Pedra +Branca over the stern. Yes; it has been a lonely sea. But for all that, +Shaw, this sea, if lonely, is not blind. Every island in it is an eye. +And now, since our squadron has left for the China waters--" + +He did not finish his sentence. Shaw put his hands in his pockets, and +propped his back against the sky-light, comfortably. + +"They say there is going to be a war with China," he said in a gossiping +tone, "and the French are going along with us as they did in the Crimea +five years ago. It seems to me we're getting mighty good friends with +the French. I've not much of an opinion about that. What do you think, +Captain Lingard?" + +"I have met their men-of-war in the Pacific," said Lingard, slowly. "The +ships were fine and the fellows in them were civil enough to me--and +very curious about my business," he added with a laugh. "However, I +wasn't there to make war on them. I had a rotten old cutter then, for +trade, Shaw," he went on with animation. + +"Had you, sir?" said Shaw without any enthusiasm. "Now give me a big +ship--a ship, I say, that one may--" + +"And later on, some years ago," interrupted Lingard, "I chummed with +a French skipper in Ampanam--being the only two white men in the whole +place. He was a good fellow, and free with his red wine. His English +was difficult to understand, but he could sing songs in his own language +about ah-moor--Ah-moor means love, in French--Shaw." + +"So it does, sir--so it does. When I was second mate of a Sunderland +barque, in forty-one, in the Mediterranean, I could pay out their lingo +as easy as you would a five-inch warp over a ship's side--" + +"Yes, he was a proper man," pursued Lingard, meditatively, as if for +himself only. "You could not find a better fellow for company ashore. He +had an affair with a Bali girl, who one evening threw a red blossom at +him from within a doorway, as we were going together to pay our respects +to the Rajah's nephew. He was a good-looking Frenchman, he was--but the +girl belonged to the Rajah's nephew, and it was a serious matter. The +old Rajah got angry and said the girl must die. I don't think the nephew +cared particularly to have her krissed; but the old fellow made a great +fuss and sent one of his own chief men to see the thing done--and the +girl had enemies--her own relations approved! We could do nothing. Mind, +Shaw, there was absolutely nothing else between them but that unlucky +flower which the Frenchman pinned to his coat--and afterward, when the +girl was dead, wore under his shirt, hung round his neck in a small box. +I suppose he had nothing else to put it into." + +"Would those savages kill a woman for that?" asked Shaw, incredulously. + +"Aye! They are pretty moral there. That was the first time in my life +I nearly went to war on my own account, Shaw. We couldn't talk those +fellows over. We couldn't bribe them, though the Frenchman offered the +best he had, and I was ready to back him to the last dollar, to the last +rag of cotton, Shaw! No use--they were that blamed respectable. So, says +the Frenchman to me: 'My friend, if they won't take our gunpowder for a +gift let us burn it to give them lead.' I was armed as you see now; +six eight-pounders on the main deck and a long eighteen on the +forecastle--and I wanted to try 'em. You may believe me! However, the +Frenchman had nothing but a few old muskets; and the beggars got to +windward of us by fair words, till one morning a boat's crew from the +Frenchman's ship found the girl lying dead on the beach. That put an end +to our plans. She was out of her trouble anyhow, and no reasonable man +will fight for a dead woman. I was never vengeful, Shaw, and--after +all--she didn't throw that flower at me. But it broke the Frenchman up +altogether. He began to mope, did no business, and shortly afterward +sailed away. I cleared a good many pence out of that trip, I remember." + +With these words he seemed to come to the end of his memories of that +trip. Shaw stifled a yawn. + +"Women are the cause of a lot of trouble," he said, dispassionately. +"In the Morayshire, I remember, we had once a passenger--an old +gentleman--who was telling us a yarn about them old-time Greeks fighting +for ten years about some woman. The Turks kidnapped her, or something. +Anyway, they fought in Turkey; which I may well believe. Them Greeks and +Turks were always fighting. My father was master's mate on board one of +the three-deckers at the battle of Navarino--and that was when we went +to help those Greeks. But this affair about a woman was long before that +time." + +"I should think so," muttered Lingard, hanging over the rail, and +watching the fleeting gleams that passed deep down in the water, along +the ship's bottom. + +"Yes. Times are changed. They were unenlightened in those old days. My +grandfather was a preacher and, though my father served in the navy, I +don't hold with war. Sinful the old gentleman called it--and I think so, +too. Unless with Chinamen, or niggers, or such people as must be kept in +order and won't listen to reason; having not sense enough to know +what's good for them, when it's explained to them by their +betters--missionaries, and such like au-tho-ri-ties. But to fight ten +years. And for a woman!" + +"I have read the tale in a book," said Lingard, speaking down over the +side as if setting his words gently afloat upon the sea. "I have read +the tale. She was very beautiful." + +"That only makes it worse, sir--if anything. You may depend on it she +was no good. Those pagan times will never come back, thank God. Ten +years of murder and unrighteousness! And for a woman! Would anybody do +it now? Would you do it, sir? Would you--" + +The sound of a bell struck sharply interrupted Shaw's discourse. High +aloft, some dry block sent out a screech, short and lamentable, like a +cry of pain. It pierced the quietness of the night to the very core, and +seemed to destroy the reserve which it had imposed upon the tones of the +two men, who spoke now loudly. + +"Throw the cover over the binnacle," said Lingard in his duty voice. +"The thing shines like a full moon. We mustn't show more lights than we +can help, when becalmed at night so near the land. No use in being seen +if you can't see yourself--is there? Bear that in mind, Mr. Shaw. There +may be some vagabonds prying about--" + +"I thought all this was over and done for," said Shaw, busying himself +with the cover, "since Sir Thomas Cochrane swept along the Borneo coast +with his squadron some years ago. He did a rare lot of fighting--didn't +he? We heard about it from the chaps of the sloop Diana that was +refitting in Calcutta when I was there in the Warwick Castle. They took +some king's town up a river hereabouts. The chaps were full of it." + +"Sir Thomas did good work," answered Lingard, "but it will be a long +time before these seas are as safe as the English Channel is in peace +time. I spoke about that light more to get you in the way of things to +be attended to in these seas than for anything else. Did you notice how +few native craft we've sighted for all these days we have been drifting +about--one may say--in this sea?" + +"I can't say I have attached any significance to the fact, sir." + +"It's a sign that something is up. Once set a rumour afloat in these +waters, and it will make its way from island to island, without any +breeze to drive it along." + +"Being myself a deep-water man sailing steadily out of home ports nearly +all my life," said Shaw with great deliberation, "I cannot pretend to +see through the peculiarities of them out-of-the-way parts. But I can +keep a lookout in an ordinary way, and I have noticed that craft of any +kind seemed scarce, for the last few days: considering that we had land +aboard of us--one side or another--nearly every day." + +"You will get to know the peculiarities, as you call them, if you remain +any time with me," remarked Lingard, negligently. + +"I hope I shall give satisfaction, whether the time be long or short!" +said Shaw, accentuating the meaning of his words by the distinctness +of his utterance. "A man who has spent thirty-two years of his life on +saltwater can say no more. If being an officer of home ships for the +last fifteen years I don't understand the heathen ways of them there +savages, in matters of seamanship and duty, you will find me all there, +Captain Lingard." + +"Except, judging from what you said a little while ago--except in the +matter of fighting," said Lingard, with a short laugh. + +"Fighting! I am not aware that anybody wants to fight me. I am a +peaceable man, Captain Lingard, but when put to it, I could fight as +well as any of them flat-nosed chaps we have to make shift with, instead +of a proper crew of decent Christians. Fighting!" he went on with +unexpected pugnacity of tone, "Fighting! If anybody comes to fight me, +he will find me all there, I swear!" + +"That's all right. That's all right," said Lingard, stretching his arms +above his head and wriggling his shoulders. "My word! I do wish a breeze +would come to let us get away from here. I am rather in a hurry, Shaw." + +"Indeed, sir! Well, I never yet met a thorough seafaring man who was not +in a hurry when a con-demned spell of calm had him by the heels. When a +breeze comes . . . just listen to this, sir!" + +"I hear it," said Lingard. "Tide-rip, Shaw." + +"So I presume, sir. But what a fuss it makes. Seldom heard such a--" + +On the sea, upon the furthest limits of vision, appeared an advancing +streak of seething foam, resembling a narrow white ribbon, drawn rapidly +along the level surface of the water by its two ends, which were lost in +the darkness. It reached the brig, passed under, stretching out on each +side; and on each side the water became noisy, breaking into numerous +and tiny wavelets, a mimicry of an immense agitation. Yet the vessel in +the midst of this sudden and loud disturbance remained as motionless and +steady as if she had been securely moored between the stone walls of a +safe dock. In a few moments the line of foam and ripple running swiftly +north passed at once beyond sight and earshot, leaving no trace on the +unconquerable calm. + +"Now this is very curious--" began Shaw. + +Lingard made a gesture to command silence. He seemed to listen yet, as +if the wash of the ripple could have had an echo which he expected to +hear. And a man's voice that was heard forward had something of the +impersonal ring of voices thrown back from hard and lofty cliffs upon +the empty distances of the sea. It spoke in Malay--faintly. + +"What?" hailed Shaw. "What is it?" + +Lingard put a restraining hand for a moment on his chief officer's +shoulder, and moved forward smartly. Shaw followed, puzzled. The rapid +exchange of incomprehensible words thrown backward and forward through +the shadows of the brig's main deck from his captain to the lookout man +and back again, made him feel sadly out of it, somehow. + +Lingard had called out sharply--"What do you see?" The answer direct and +quick was--"I hear, Tuan. I hear oars." + +"Whereabouts?" + +"The night is all around us. I hear them near." + +"Port or starboard?" + +There was a short delay in answer this time. On the quarter-deck, +under the poop, bare feet shuffled. Somebody coughed. At last the voice +forward said doubtfully: + +"Kanan." + +"Call the serang, Mr. Shaw," said Lingard, calmly, "and have the hands +turned up. They are all lying about the decks. Look sharp now. There's +something near us. It's annoying to be caught like this," he added in a +vexed tone. + +He crossed over to the starboard side, and stood listening, one hand +grasping the royal back-stay, his ear turned to the sea, but he could +hear nothing from there. The quarter-deck was filled with subdued +sounds. Suddenly, a long, shrill whistle soared, reverberated loudly +amongst the flat surfaces of motionless sails, and gradually grew faint +as if the sound had escaped and gone away, running upon the water. Haji +Wasub was on deck and ready to carry out the white man's commands. Then +silence fell again on the brig, until Shaw spoke quietly. + +"I am going forward now, sir, with the tindal. We're all at stations." + +"Aye, Mr. Shaw. Very good. Mind they don't board you--but I can hear +nothing. Not a sound. It can't be much." + +"The fellow has been dreaming, no doubt. I have good ears, too, and--" + +He went forward and the end of his sentence was lost in an indistinct +growl. Lingard stood attentive. One by one the three seacannies off duty +appeared on the poop and busied themselves around a big chest that stood +by the side of the cabin companion. A rattle and clink of steel weapons +turned out on the deck was heard, but the men did not even whisper. +Lingard peered steadily into the night, then shook his head. + +"Serang!" he called, half aloud. + +The spare old man ran up the ladder so smartly that his bony feet did +not seem to touch the steps. He stood by his commander, his hands behind +his back; a figure indistinct but straight as an arrow. + +"Who was looking out?" asked Lingard. + +"Badroon, the Bugis," said Wasub, in his crisp, jerky manner. + +"I can hear nothing. Badroon heard the noise in his mind." + +"The night hides the boat." + +"Have you seen it?" + +"Yes, Tuan. Small boat. Before sunset. By the land. Now coming +here--near. Badroon heard him." + +"Why didn't you report it, then?" asked Lingard, sharply. + +"Malim spoke. He said: 'Nothing there,' while I could see. How could I +know what was in his mind or yours, Tuan?" + +"Do you hear anything now?" + +"No. They stopped now. Perhaps lost the ship--who knows? Perhaps +afraid--" + +"Well!" muttered Lingard, moving his feet uneasily. "I believe you lie. +What kind of boat?" + +"White men's boat. A four-men boat, I think. Small. Tuan, I hear him +now! There!" + +He stretched his arm straight out, pointing abeam for a time, then his +arm fell slowly. + +"Coming this way," he added with decision. + +From forward Shaw called out in a startled tone: + +"Something on the water, sir! Broad on this bow!" + +"All right!" called back Lingard. + +A lump of blacker darkness floated into his view. From it came over the +water English words--deliberate, reaching him one by one; as if each had +made its own difficult way through the profound stillness of the night. + +"What--ship--is--that--pray?" + +"English brig," answered Lingard, after a short moment of hesitation. + +"A brig! I thought you were something bigger," went on the voice from +the sea with a tinge of disappointment in its deliberate tone. "I am +coming alongside--if--you--please." + +"No! you don't!" called Lingard back, sharply. The leisurely drawl of +the invisible speaker seemed to him offensive, and woke up a hostile +feeling. "No! you don't if you care for your boat. Where do you spring +from? Who are you--anyhow? How many of you are there in that boat?" + +After these emphatic questions there was an interval of silence. During +that time the shape of the boat became a little more distinct. She must +have carried some way on her yet, for she loomed up bigger and nearly +abreast of where Lingard stood, before the self-possessed voice was +heard again: + +"I will show you." + +Then, after another short pause, the voice said, less loud but very +plain: + +"Strike on the gunwale. Strike hard, John!" and suddenly a blue light +blazed out, illuminating with a livid flame a round patch in the +night. In the smoke and splutter of that ghastly halo appeared a white, +four-oared gig with five men sitting in her in a row. Their heads were +turned toward the brig with a strong expression of curiosity on their +faces, which, in this glare, brilliant and sinister, took on a deathlike +aspect and resembled the faces of interested corpses. Then the bowman +dropped into the water the light he held above his head and the +darkness, rushing back at the boat, swallowed it with a loud and angry +hiss. + +"Five of us," said the composed voice out of the night that seemed now +darker than before. "Four hands and myself. We belong to a yacht--a +British yacht--" + +"Come on board!" shouted Lingard. "Why didn't you speak at once? I +thought you might have been some masquerading Dutchmen from a dodging +gunboat." + +"Do I speak like a blamed Dutchman? Pull a stroke, boys--oars! Tend bow, +John." + +The boat came alongside with a gentle knock, and a man's shape began to +climb at once up the brig's side with a kind of ponderous agility. It +poised itself for a moment on the rail to say down into the boat--"Sheer +off a little, boys," then jumped on deck with a thud, and said to Shaw +who was coming aft: "Good evening . . . Captain, sir?" + +"No. On the poop!" growled Shaw. + +"Come up here. Come up," called Lingard, impatiently. + +The Malays had left their stations and stood clustered by the mainmast +in a silent group. Not a word was spoken on the brig's decks, while the +stranger made his way to the waiting captain. Lingard saw approaching +him a short, dapper man, who touched his cap and repeated his greeting +in a cool drawl: + +"Good evening. . . Captain, sir?" + +"Yes, I am the master--what's the matter? Adrift from your ship? Or +what?" + +"Adrift? No! We left her four days ago, and have been pulling that gig +in a calm, nearly ever since. My men are done. So is the water. Lucky +thing I sighted you." + +"You sighted me!" exclaimed Lingard. "When? What time?" + +"Not in the dark, you may be sure. We've been knocking about amongst +some islands to the southward, breaking our hearts tugging at the oars +in one channel, then in another--trying to get clear. We got round an +islet--a barren thing, in shape like a loaf of sugar--and I caught sight +of a vessel a long way off. I took her bearing in a hurry and we buckled +to; but another of them currents must have had hold of us, for it was a +long time before we managed to clear that islet. I steered by the +stars, and, by the Lord Harry, I began to think I had missed you +somehow--because it must have been you I saw." + +"Yes, it must have been. We had nothing in sight all day," assented +Lingard. "Where's your vessel?" he asked, eagerly. + +"Hard and fast on middling soft mud--I should think about sixty miles +from here. We are the second boat sent off for assistance. We parted +company with the other on Tuesday. She must have passed to the northward +of you to-day. The chief officer is in her with orders to make for +Singapore. I am second, and was sent off toward the Straits here on the +chance of falling in with some ship. I have a letter from the owner. Our +gentry are tired of being stuck in the mud and wish for assistance." + +"What assistance did you expect to find down here?" + +"The letter will tell you that. May I ask, Captain, for a little water +for the chaps in my boat? And I myself would thank you for a drink. +We haven't had a mouthful since this afternoon. Our breaker leaked out +somehow." + +"See to it, Mr. Shaw," said Lingard. "Come down the cabin, Mr.--" + +"Carter is my name." + +"Ah! Mr. Carter. Come down, come down," went on Lingard, leading the way +down the cabin stairs. + +The steward had lighted the swinging lamp, and had put a decanter and +bottles on the table. The cuddy looked cheerful, painted white, with +gold mouldings round the panels. Opposite the curtained recess of the +stern windows there was a sideboard with a marble top, and, above it, +a looking-glass in a gilt frame. The semicircular couch round the stern +had cushions of crimson plush. The table was covered with a black +Indian tablecloth embroidered in vivid colours. Between the beams of the +poop-deck were fitted racks for muskets, the barrels of which glinted +in the light. There were twenty-four of them between the four beams. As +many sword-bayonets of an old pattern encircled the polished teakwood of +the rudder-casing with a double belt of brass and steel. All the doors +of the state-rooms had been taken off the hinges and only curtains +closed the doorways. They seemed to be made of yellow Chinese silk, and +fluttered all together, the four of them, as the two men entered the +cuddy. + +Carter took in all at a glance, but his eyes were arrested by a circular +shield hung slanting above the brass hilts of the bayonets. On its +red field, in relief and brightly gilt, was represented a sheaf of +conventional thunderbolts darting down the middle between the two +capitals T. L. Lingard examined his guest curiously. He saw a young +man, but looking still more youthful, with a boyish smooth face much +sunburnt, twinkling blue eyes, fair hair and a slight moustache. He +noticed his arrested gaze. + +"Ah, you're looking at that thing. It's a present from the builder of +this brig. The best man that ever launched a craft. It's supposed to be +the ship's name between my initials--flash of lightning--d'you see? The +brig's name is Lightning and mine is Lingard." + +"Very pretty thing that: shows the cabin off well," murmured Carter, +politely. + +They drank, nodding at each other, and sat down. + +"Now for the letter," said Lingard. + +Carter passed it over the table and looked about, while Lingard took +the letter out of an open envelope, addressed to the commander of any +British ship in the Java Sea. The paper was thick, had an embossed +heading: "Schooner-yacht Hermit" and was dated four days before. The +message said that on a hazy night the yacht had gone ashore upon some +outlying shoals off the coast of Borneo. The land was low. The opinion +of the sailing-master was that the vessel had gone ashore at the top +of high water, spring tides. The coast was completely deserted to all +appearance. During the four days they had been stranded there they +had sighted in the distance two small native vessels, which did +not approach. The owner concluded by asking any commander of a +homeward-bound ship to report the yacht's position in Anjer on his way +through Sunda Straits--or to any British or Dutch man-of-war he might +meet. The letter ended by anticipatory thanks, the offer to pay any +expenses in connection with the sending of messages from Anjer, and the +usual polite expressions. + +Folding the paper slowly in the old creases, Lingard said--"I am not +going to Anjer--nor anywhere near." + +"Any place will do, I fancy," said Carter. + +"Not the place where I am bound to," answered Lingard, opening the +letter again and glancing at it uneasily. "He does not describe very +well the coast, and his latitude is very uncertain," he went on. "I +am not clear in my mind where exactly you are stranded. And yet I know +every inch of that land--over there." + +Carter cleared his throat and began to talk in his slow drawl. He seemed +to dole out facts, to disclose with sparing words the features of the +coast, but every word showed the minuteness of his observation, the +clear vision of a seaman able to master quickly the aspect of a strange +land and of a strange sea. He presented, with concise lucidity, the +picture of the tangle of reefs and sandbanks, through which the yacht +had miraculously blundered in the dark before she took the ground. + +"The weather seems clear enough at sea," he observed, finally, and +stopped to drink a long draught. Lingard, bending over the table, had +been listening with eager attention. Carter went on in his curt and +deliberate manner: + +"I noticed some high trees on what I take to be the mainland to the +south--and whoever has business in that bight was smart enough to +whitewash two of them: one on the point, and another farther in. +Landmarks, I guess. . . . What's the matter, Captain?" + +Lingard had jumped to his feet, but Carter's exclamation caused him to +sit down again. + +"Nothing, nothing . . . Tell me, how many men have you in that yacht?" + +"Twenty-three, besides the gentry, the owner, his wife and a Spanish +gentleman--a friend they picked up in Manila." + +"So you were coming from Manila?" + +"Aye. Bound for Batavia. The owner wishes to study the Dutch colonial +system. Wants to expose it, he says. One can't help hearing a lot when +keeping watch aft--you know how it is. Then we are going to Ceylon +to meet the mail-boat there. The owner is going home as he came out, +overland through Egypt. The yacht would return round the Cape, of +course." + +"A lady?" said Lingard. "You say there is a lady on board. Are you +armed?" + +"Not much," replied Carter, negligently. "There are a few muskets and +two sporting guns aft; that's about all--I fancy it's too much, or not +enough," he added with a faint smile. + +Lingard looked at him narrowly. + +"Did you come out from home in that craft?" he asked. + +"Not I! I am not one of them regular yacht hands. I came out of the +hospital in Hongkong. I've been two years on the China coast." + +He stopped, then added in an explanatory murmur: + +"Opium clippers--you know. Nothing of brass buttons about me. My ship +left me behind, and I was in want of work. I took this job but I didn't +want to go home particularly. It's slow work after sailing with old +Robinson in the Ly-e-moon. That was my ship. Heard of her, Captain?" + +"Yes, yes," said Lingard, hastily. "Look here, Mr. Carter, which way was +your chief officer trying for Singapore? Through the Straits of Rhio?" + +"I suppose so," answered Carter in a slightly surprised tone; "why do +you ask?" + +"Just to know . . . What is it, Mr. Shaw?" + +"There's a black cloud rising to the northward, sir, and we shall get a +breeze directly," said Shaw from the doorway. + +He lingered there with his eyes fixed on the decanters. + +"Will you have a glass?" said Lingard, leaving his seat. "I will go up +and have a look." + +He went on deck. Shaw approached the table and began to help himself, +handling the bottles in profound silence and with exaggerated caution, +as if he had been measuring out of fragile vessels a dose of some deadly +poison. Carter, his hands in his pockets, and leaning back, examined +him from head to foot with a cool stare. The mate of the brig raised the +glass to his lips, and glaring above the rim at the stranger, drained +the contents slowly. + +"You have a fine nose for finding ships in the dark, Mister," he said, +distinctly, putting the glass on the table with extreme gentleness. + +"Eh? What's that? I sighted you just after sunset." + +"And you knew where to look, too," said Shaw, staring hard. + +"I looked to the westward where there was still some light, as any +sensible man would do," retorted the other a little impatiently. "What +are you trying to get at?" + +"And you have a ready tongue to blow about yourself--haven't you?" + +"Never saw such a man in my life," declared Carter, with a return of his +nonchalant manner. "You seem to be troubled about something." + +"I don't like boats to come sneaking up from nowhere in particular, +alongside a ship when I am in charge of the deck. I can keep a lookout +as well as any man out of home ports, but I hate to be circumvented by +muffled oars and such ungentlemanlike tricks. Yacht officer--indeed. +These seas must be full of such yachtsmen. I consider you played a mean +trick on me. I told my old man there was nothing in sight at sunset--and +no more there was. I believe you blundered upon us by chance--for all +your boasting about sunsets and bearings. Gammon! I know you came +on blindly on top of us, and with muffled oars, too. D'ye call that +decent?" + +"If I did muffle the oars it was for a good reason. I wanted to slip +past a cove where some native craft were moored. That was common +prudence in such a small boat, and not armed--as I am. I saw you right +enough, but I had no intention to startle anybody. Take my word for it." + +"I wish you had gone somewhere else," growled Shaw. "I hate to be put in +the wrong through accident and untruthfulness--there! Here's my old man +calling me--" + +He left the cabin hurriedly and soon afterward Lingard came down, +and sat again facing Carter across the table. His face was grave but +resolute. + +"We shall get the breeze directly," he said. + +"Then, sir," said Carter, getting up, "if you will give me back that +letter I shall go on cruising about here to speak some other ship. I +trust you will report us wherever you are going." + +"I am going to the yacht and I shall keep the letter," answered Lingard +with decision. "I know exactly where she is, and I must go to the rescue +of those people. It's most fortunate you've fallen in with me, Mr. +Carter. Fortunate for them and fortunate for me," he added in a lower +tone. + +"Yes," drawled Carter, reflectively. "There may be a tidy bit of salvage +money if you should get the vessel off, but I don't think you can do +much. I had better stay out here and try to speak some gunboat--" + +"You must come back to your ship with me," said Lingard, +authoritatively. "Never mind the gunboats." + +"That wouldn't be carrying out my orders," argued Carter. "I've got to +speak a homeward-bound ship or a man-of-war--that's plain enough. I am +not anxious to knock about for days in an open boat, but--let me fill my +fresh-water breaker, Captain, and I will be off." + +"Nonsense," said Lingard, sharply. "You've got to come with me to show +the place and--and help. I'll take your boat in tow." + +Carter did not seem convinced. Lingard laid a heavy hand on his +shoulder. + +"Look here, young fellow. I am Tom Lingard and there's not a white man +among these islands, and very few natives, that have not heard of me. My +luck brought you into my ship--and now I've got you, you must stay. You +must!" + +The last "must" burst out loud and sharp like a pistol-shot. Carter +stepped back. + +"Do you mean you would keep me by force?" he asked, startled. + +"Force," repeated Lingard. "It rests with you. I cannot let you speak +any vessel. Your yacht has gone ashore in a most inconvenient place--for +me; and with your boats sent off here and there, you would bring every +infernal gunboat buzzing to a spot that was as quiet and retired as the +heart of man could wish. You stranding just on that spot of the whole +coast was my bad luck. And that I could not help. You coming upon me +like this is my good luck. And that I hold!" + +He dropped his clenched fist, big and muscular, in the light of the +lamp on the black cloth, amongst the glitter of glasses, with the strong +fingers closed tight upon the firm flesh of the palm. He left it there +for a moment as if showing Carter that luck he was going to hold. And he +went on: + +"Do you know into what hornet's nest your stupid people have blundered? +How much d'ye think their lives are worth, just now? Not a brass +farthing if the breeze fails me for another twenty-four hours. You may +well open your eyes. It is so! And it may be too late now, while I am +arguing with you here." + +He tapped the table with his knuckles, and the glasses, waking up, +jingled a thin, plaintive finale to his speech. Carter stood leaning +against the sideboard. He was amazed by the unexpected turn of the +conversation; his jaw dropped slightly and his eyes never swerved for a +moment from Lingard's face. The silence in the cabin lasted only a few +seconds, but to Carter, who waited breathlessly, it seemed very long. +And all at once he heard in it, for the first time, the cabin clock tick +distinctly, in pulsating beats, as though a little heart of metal behind +the dial had been started into sudden palpitation. + +"A gunboat!" shouted Lingard, suddenly, as if he had seen only in +that moment, by the light of some vivid flash of thought, all the +difficulties of the situation. "If you don't go back with me there will +be nothing left for you to go back to--very soon. Your gunboat won't +find a single ship's rib or a single corpse left for a landmark. That +she won't. It isn't a gunboat skipper you want. I am the man you +want. You don't know your luck when you see it, but I know mine, I +do--and--look here--" + +He touched Carter's chest with his forefinger, and said with a sudden +gentleness of tone: + +"I am a white man inside and out; I won't let inoffensive people--and a +woman, too--come to harm if I can help it. And if I can't help, nobody +can. You understand--nobody! There's no time for it. But I am like any +other man that is worth his salt: I won't let the end of an undertaking +go by the board while there is a chance to hold on--and it's like +this--" + +His voice was persuasive--almost caressing; he had hold now of a coat +button and tugged at it slightly as he went on in a confidential manner: + +"As it turns out, Mr. Carter, I would--in a manner of speaking--I would +as soon shoot you where you stand as let you go to raise an alarm +all over this sea about your confounded yacht. I have other lives to +consider--and friends--and promises--and--and myself, too. I shall keep +you," he concluded, sharply. + +Carter drew a long breath. On the deck above, the two men could +hear soft footfalls, short murmurs, indistinct words spoken near the +skylight. Shaw's voice rang out loudly in growling tones: + +"Furl the royals, you tindal!" + +"It's the queerest old go," muttered Carter, looking down on to the +floor. "You are a strange man. I suppose I must believe what you +say--unless you and that fat mate of yours are a couple of escaped +lunatics that got hold of a brig by some means. Why, that chap up there +wanted to pick a quarrel with me for coming aboard, and now you threaten +to shoot me rather than let me go. Not that I care much about that; for +some time or other you would get hanged for it; and you don't look like +a man that will end that way. If what you say is only half true, I ought +to get back to the yacht as quick as ever I can. It strikes me that your +coming to them will be only a small mercy, anyhow--and I may be of some +use--But this is the queerest. . . . May I go in my boat?" + +"As you like," said Lingard. "There's a rain squall coming." + +"I am in charge and will get wet along of my chaps. Give us a good long +line, Captain." + +"It's done already," said Lingard. "You seem a sensible sailorman and +can see that it would be useless to try and give me the slip." + +"For a man so ready to shoot, you seem very trustful," drawled Carter. +"If I cut adrift in a squall, I stand a pretty fair chance not to see +you again." + +"You just try," said Lingard, drily. "I have eyes in this brig, young +man, that will see your boat when you couldn't see the ship. You are of +the kind I like, but if you monkey with me I will find you--and when I +find you I will run you down as surely as I stand here." + +Carter slapped his thigh and his eyes twinkled. + +"By the Lord Harry!" he cried. "If it wasn't for the men with me, I +would try for sport. You are so cocksure about the lot you can do, +Captain. You would aggravate a saint into open mutiny." + +His easy good humour had returned; but after a short burst of laughter, +he became serious. + +"Never fear," he said, "I won't slip away. If there is to be any +throat-cutting--as you seem to hint--mine will be there, too, I promise +you, and. . . ." + +He stretched his arms out, glanced at them, shook them a little. + +"And this pair of arms to take care of it," he added, in his old, +careless drawl. + +But the master of the brig sitting with both his elbows on the table, +his face in his hands, had fallen unexpectedly into a meditation so +concentrated and so profound that he seemed neither to hear, see, nor +breathe. The sight of that man's complete absorption in thought was to +Carter almost more surprising than any other occurrence of that night. +Had his strange host vanished suddenly from before his eyes, it could +not have made him feel more uncomfortably alone in that cabin where +the pertinacious clock kept ticking off the useless minutes of the calm +before it would, with the same steady beat, begin to measure the aimless +disturbance of the storm. + + + +III + +After waiting a moment, Carter went on deck. The sky, the sea, the +brig itself had disappeared in a darkness that had become impenetrable, +palpable, and stifling. An immense cloud had come up running over the +heavens, as if looking for the little craft, and now hung over it, +arrested. To the south there was a livid trembling gleam, faint and sad, +like a vanishing memory of destroyed starlight. To the north, as if +to prove the impossible, an incredibly blacker patch outlined on the +tremendous blackness of the sky the heart of the coming squall. The +glimmers in the water had gone out and the invisible sea all around lay +mute and still as if it had died suddenly of fright. + +Carter could see nothing. He felt about him people moving; he heard +them in the darkness whispering faintly as if they had been exchanging +secrets important or infamous. The night effaced even words, and its +mystery had captured everything and every sound--had left nothing free +but the unexpected that seemed to hover about one, ready to stretch out +its stealthy hand in a touch sudden, familiar, and appalling. Even the +careless disposition of the young ex-officer of an opium-clipper was +affected by the ominous aspect of the hour. What was this vessel? +What were those people? What would happen to-morrow? To the yacht? To +himself? He felt suddenly without any additional reason but the darkness +that it was a poor show, anyhow, a dashed poor show for all hands. The +irrational conviction made him falter for a second where he stood and he +gripped the slide of the companionway hard. + +Shaw's voice right close to his ear relieved and cleared his troubled +thoughts. + +"Oh! it's you, Mister. Come up at last," said the mate of the brig +slowly. "It appears we've got to give you a tow now. Of all the rum +incidents, this beats all. A boat sneaks up from nowhere and turns +out to be a long-expected friend! For you are one of them friends the +skipper was going to meet somewhere here. Ain't you now? Come! I know +more than you may think. Are we off to--you may just as well tell--off +to--h'm ha . . . you know?" + +"Yes. I know. Don't you?" articulated Carter, innocently. + +Shaw remained very quiet for a minute. + +"Where's my skipper?" he asked at last. + +"I left him down below in a kind of trance. Where's my boat?" + +"Your boat is hanging astern. And my opinion is that you are as uncivil +as I've proved you to be untruthful. Egzz-actly." + +Carter stumbled toward the taffrail and in the first step he made came +full against somebody who glided away. It seemed to him that such a +night brings men to a lower level. He thought that he might have been +knocked on the head by anybody strong enough to lift a crow-bar. He felt +strangely irritated. He said loudly, aiming his words at Shaw whom he +supposed somewhere near: + +"And my opinion is that you and your skipper will come to a sudden bad +end before--" + +"I thought you were in your boat. Have you changed your mind?" asked +Lingard in his deep voice close to Carter's elbow. + +Carter felt his way along the rail, till his hand found a line that +seemed, in the calm, to stream out of its own accord into the darkness. +He hailed his boat, and directly heard the wash of water against her +bows as she was hauled quickly under the counter. Then he loomed up +shapeless on the rail, and the next moment disappeared as if he had +fallen out of the universe. Lingard heard him say: + +"Catch hold of my leg, John." There were hollow sounds in the boat; a +voice growled, "All right." + +"Keep clear of the counter," said Lingard, speaking in quiet warning +tones into the night. "The brig may get a lot of sternway on her should +this squall not strike her fairly." + +"Aye, aye. I will mind," was the muttered answer from the water. + +Lingard crossed over to the port side, and looked steadily at the sooty +mass of approaching vapours. After a moment he said curtly, "Brace up +for the port tack, Mr. Shaw," and remained silent, with his face to +the sea. A sound, sorrowful and startling like the sigh of some immense +creature, travelling across the starless space, passed above the +vertical and lofty spars of the motionless brig. + +It grew louder, then suddenly ceased for a moment, and the taut rigging +of the brig was heard vibrating its answer in a singing note to this +threatening murmur of the winds. A long and slow undulation lifted the +level of the waters, as if the sea had drawn a deep breath of anxious +suspense. The next minute an immense disturbance leaped out of the +darkness upon the sea, kindling upon it a livid clearness of foam, and +the first gust of the squall boarded the brig in a stinging flick of +rain and spray. As if overwhelmed by the suddenness of the fierce onset, +the vessel remained for a second upright where she floated, shaking with +tremendous jerks from trucks to keel; while high up in the night the +invisible canvas was heard rattling and beating about violently. + +Then, with a quick double report, as of heavy guns, both topsails filled +at once and the brig fell over swiftly on her side. Shaw was thrown +headlong against the skylight, and Lingard, who had encircled the +weather rail with his arm, felt the vessel under his feet dart forward +smoothly, and the deck become less slanting--the speed of the brig +running off a little now, easing the overturning strain of the wind upon +the distended surfaces of the sails. It was only the fineness of the +little vessel's lines and the perfect shape of her hull that saved the +canvas, and perhaps the spars, by enabling the ready craft to get way +upon herself with such lightning-like rapidity. Lingard drew a long +breath and yelled jubilantly at Shaw who was struggling up against wind +and rain to his commander's side. + +"She'll do. Hold on everything." + +Shaw tried to speak. He swallowed great mouthfuls of tepid water +which the wind drove down his throat. The brig seemed to sail through +undulating waves that passed swishing between the masts and swept over +the decks with the fierce rush and noise of a cataract. From every spar +and every rope a ragged sheet of water streamed flicking to leeward. The +overpowering deluge seemed to last for an age; became unbearable--and, +all at once, stopped. In a couple of minutes the shower had run its +length over the brig and now could be seen like a straight grey wall, +going away into the night under the fierce whispering of dissolving +clouds. The wind eased. To the northward, low down in the darkness, +three stars appeared in a row, leaping in and out between the crests +of waves like the distant heads of swimmers in a running surf; and the +retreating edge of the cloud, perfectly straight from east to west, +slipped along the dome of the sky like an immense hemispheric, iron +shutter pivoting down smoothly as if operated by some mighty engine. An +inspiring and penetrating freshness flowed together with the shimmer +of light, through the augmented glory of the heaven, a glory exalted, +undimmed, and strangely startling as if a new world had been created +during the short flight of the stormy cloud. It was a return to life, +a return to space; the earth coming out from under a pall to take its +place in the renewed and immense scintillation of the universe. + +The brig, her yards slightly checked in, ran with an easy motion under +the topsails, jib and driver, pushing contemptuously aside the turbulent +crowd of noisy and agitated waves. As the craft went swiftly ahead she +unrolled behind her over the uneasy darkness of the sea a broad ribbon +of seething foam shot with wispy gleams of dark discs escaping from +under the rudder. Far away astern, at the end of a line no thicker than +a black thread, which dipped now and then its long curve in the bursting +froth, a toy-like object could be made out, elongated and dark, racing +after the brig over the snowy whiteness of her wake. + +Lingard walked aft, and, with both his hands on the taffrail, looked +eagerly for Carter's boat. The first glance satisfied him that the +yacht's gig was towing easily at the end of the long scope of line, and +he turned away to look ahead and to leeward with a steady gaze. It was +then half an hour past midnight and Shaw, relieved by Wasub, had gone +below. Before he went, he said to Lingard, "I will be off, sir, if +you're not going to make more sail yet." "Not yet for a while," had +answered Lingard in a preoccupied manner; and Shaw departed aggrieved at +such a neglect of making the best of a good breeze. + +On the main deck dark-skinned men, whose clothing clung to their +shivering limbs as if they had been overboard, had finished recoiling +the braces, and clearing the gear. The kassab, after having hung the +fore-topsail halyards in the becket, strutted into the waist toward a +row of men who stood idly with their shoulders against the side of the +long boat amidships. He passed along looking up close at the stolid +faces. Room was made for him, and he took his place at the end. + +"It was a great rain and a mighty wind, O men," he said, dogmatically, +"but no wind can ever hurt this ship. That I knew while I stood minding +the sail which is under my care." + +A dull and inexpressive murmur was heard from the men. Over the high +weather rail, a topping wave flung into their eyes a handful of heavy +drops that stung like hail. There were low groans of indignation. A man +sighed. Another emitted a spasmodic laugh through his chattering teeth. +No one moved away. The little kassab wiped his face and went on in his +cracked voice, to the accompaniment of the swishing sounds made by the +seas that swept regularly astern along the ship's side. + +"Have you heard him shout at the wind--louder than the wind? I have +heard, being far forward. And before, too, in the many years I served +this white man I have heard him often cry magic words that make all +safe. Ya-wa! This is truth. Ask Wasub who is a Haji, even as I am." + +"I have seen white men's ships with their masts broken--also wrecked +like our own praus," remarked sadly a lean, lank fellow who shivered +beside the kassab, hanging his head and trying to grasp his shoulder +blades. + +"True," admitted the kassab. "They are all the children of Satan but to +some more favour is shown. To obey such men on the sea or in a fight +is good. I saw him who is master here fight with wild men who eat their +enemies--far away to the eastward--and I dealt blows by his side without +fear; for the charms he, no doubt, possesses protect his servants also. +I am a believer and the Stoned One can not touch my forehead. Yet the +reward of victory comes from the accursed. For six years have I sailed +with that white man; first as one who minds the rudder, for I am a +man of the sea, born in a prau, and am skilled in such work. And now, +because of my great knowledge of his desires, I have the care of all +things in this ship." + +Several voices muttered, "True. True." They remained apathetic and +patient, in the rush of wind, under the repeated short flights of +sprays. The slight roll of the ship balanced them stiffly all together +where they stood propped against the big boat. The breeze humming +between the inclined masts enveloped their dark and silent figures in +the unceasing resonance of its breath. + +The brig's head had been laid so as to pass a little to windward of the +small islands of the Carimata group. They had been till then hidden in +the night, but now both men on the lookout reported land ahead in one +long cry. Lingard, standing to leeward abreast of the wheel, watched +the islet first seen. When it was nearly abeam of the brig he gave his +orders, and Wasub hurried off to the main deck. The helm was put down, +the yards on the main came slowly square and the wet canvas of the +main-topsail clung suddenly to the mast after a single heavy flap. The +dazzling streak of the ship's wake vanished. The vessel lost her way +and began to dip her bows into the quick succession of the running head +seas. And at every slow plunge of the craft, the song of the wind would +swell louder amongst the waving spars, with a wild and mournful note. + +Just as the brig's boat had been swung out, ready for lowering, the +yacht's gig hauled up by its line appeared tossing and splashing on +the lee quarter. Carter stood up in the stern sheets balancing himself +cleverly to the disordered motion of his cockleshell. He hailed the brig +twice to know what was the matter, not being able from below and in the +darkness to make out what that confused group of men on the poop were +about. He got no answer, though he could see the shape of a man standing +by himself aft, and apparently watching him. He was going to repeat his +hail for the third time when he heard the rattling of tackles followed +by a heavy splash, a burst of voices, scrambling hollow sounds--and a +dark mass detaching itself from the brig's side swept past him on the +crest of a passing wave. For less than a second he could see on the +shimmer of the night sky the shape of a boat, the heads of men, the +blades of oars pointing upward while being got out hurriedly. Then +all this sank out of sight, reappeared once more far off and hardly +discernible, before vanishing for good. + +"Why, they've lowered a boat!" exclaimed Carter, falling back in his +seat. He remembered that he had seen only a few hours ago three native +praus lurking amongst those very islands. For a moment he had the idea +of casting off to go in chase of that boat, so as to find out. . . . +Find out what? He gave up his idea at once. What could he do? + +The conviction that the yacht, and everything belonging to her, were in +some indefinite but very real danger, took afresh a strong hold of him, +and the persuasion that the master of the brig was going there to +help did not by any means assuage his alarm. The fact only served to +complicate his uneasiness with a sense of mystery. + +The white man who spoke as if that sea was all his own, or as if people +intruded upon his privacy by taking the liberty of getting wrecked on a +coast where he and his friends did some queer business, seemed to him an +undesirable helper. That the boat had been lowered to communicate with +the praus seen and avoided by him in the evening he had no doubt. The +thought had flashed on him at once. It had an ugly look. Yet the best +thing to do after all was to hang on and get back to the yacht and warn +them. . . . Warn them against whom? The man had been perfectly open with +him. Warn them against what? It struck him that he hadn't the slightest +conception of what would happen, of what was even likely to happen. That +strange rescuer himself was bringing the news of danger. Danger from the +natives of course. And yet he was in communication with those natives. +That was evident. That boat going off in the night. . . . Carter swore +heartily to himself. His perplexity became positive bodily pain as he +sat, wet, uncomfortable, and still, one hand on the tiller, thrown up +and down in headlong swings of his boat. And before his eyes, towering +high, the black hull of the brig also rose and fell, setting her stern +down in the sea, now and again, with a tremendous and foaming splash. +Not a sound from her reached Carter's ears. She seemed an abandoned +craft but for the outline of a man's head and body still visible in a +watchful attitude above the taffrail. + +Carter told his bowman to haul up closer and hailed: + +"Brig ahoy. Anything wrong?" + +He waited, listening. The shadowy man still watched. After some time a +curt "No" came back in answer. + +"Are you going to keep hove-to long?" shouted Carter. + +"Don't know. Not long. Drop your boat clear of the ship. Drop clear. Do +damage if you don't." + +"Slack away, John!" said Carter in a resigned tone to the elderly seaman +in the bow. "Slack away and let us ride easy to the full scope. They +don't seem very talkative on board there." + +Even while he was speaking the line ran out and the regular undulations +of the passing seas drove the boat away from the brig. Carter turned +a little in his seat to look at the land. It loomed up dead to leeward +like a lofty and irregular cone only a mile or a mile and a half +distant. The noise of the surf beating upon its base was heard against +the wind in measured detonations. The fatigue of many days spent in the +boat asserted itself above the restlessness of Carter's thoughts and, +gradually, he lost the notion of the passing time without altogether +losing the consciousness of his situation. + +In the intervals of that benumbed stupor--rather than sleep--he was +aware that the interrupted noise of the surf had grown into a continuous +great rumble, swelling periodically into a loud roar; that the high +islet appeared now bigger, and that a white fringe of foam was visible +at its feet. Still there was no stir or movement of any kind on board +the brig. He noticed that the wind was moderating and the sea going down +with it, and then dozed off again for a minute. When next he opened his +eyes with a start, it was just in time to see with surprise a new star +soar noiselessly straight up from behind the land, take up its position +in a brilliant constellation--and go out suddenly. Two more followed, +ascending together, and after reaching about the same elevation, expired +side by side. + +"Them's rockets, sir--ain't they?" said one of the men in a muffled +voice. + +"Aye, rockets," grunted Carter. "And now, what's the next move?" he +muttered to himself dismally. + +He got his answer in the fierce swishing whirr of a slender ray of +fire that, shooting violently upward from the sombre hull of the brig, +dissolved at once into a dull red shower of falling sparks. Only one, +white and brilliant, remained alone poised high overhead, and after +glowing vividly for a second, exploded with a feeble report. Almost at +the same time he saw the brig's head fall off the wind, made out the +yards swinging round to fill the main topsail, and heard distinctly the +thud of the first wave thrown off by the advancing bows. The next minute +the tow-line got the strain and his boat started hurriedly after the +brig with a sudden jerk. + +Leaning forward, wide awake and attentive, Carter steered. His men +sat one behind another with shoulders up, and arched backs, dozing, +uncomfortable but patient, upon the thwarts. The care requisite to steer +the boat properly in the track of the seething and disturbed water left +by the brig in her rapid course prevented him from reflecting much upon +the incertitude of the future and upon his own unusual situation. + +Now he was only exceedingly anxious to see the yacht again, and it was +with a feeling of very real satisfaction that he saw all plain sail +being made on the brig. Through the remaining hours of the night he sat +grasping the tiller and keeping his eyes on the shadowy and high pyramid +of canvas gliding steadily ahead of his boat with a slight balancing +movement from side to side. + + + +IV + +It was noon before the brig, piloted by Lingard through the deep +channels between the outer coral reefs, rounded within pistol-shot a low +hummock of sand which marked the end of a long stretch of stony ledges +that, being mostly awash, showed a black head only, here and there +amongst the hissing brown froth of the yellow sea. As the brig drew +clear of the sandy patch there appeared, dead to windward and beyond a +maze of broken water, sandspits, and clusters of rocks, the black hull +of the yacht heeling over, high and motionless upon the great expanse of +glittering shallows. Her long, naked spars were inclined slightly as +if she had been sailing with a good breeze. There was to the lookers-on +aboard the brig something sad and disappointing in the yacht's aspect +as she lay perfectly still in an attitude that in a seaman's mind is +associated with the idea of rapid motion. + +"Here she is!" said Shaw, who, clad in a spotless white suit, came just +then from forward where he had been busy with the anchors. "She is well +on, sir--isn't she? Looks like a mudflat to me from here." + +"Yes. It is a mudflat," said Lingard, slowly, raising the long glass to +his eye. "Haul the mainsail up, Mr. Shaw," he went on while he took a +steady look at the yacht. "We will have to work in short tacks here." + +He put the glass down and moved away from the rail. For the next hour +he handled his little vessel in the intricate and narrow channel with +careless certitude, as if every stone, every grain of sand upon the +treacherous bottom had been plainly disclosed to his sight. He handled +her in the fitful and unsteady breeze with a matter-of-fact audacity +that made Shaw, forward at his station, gasp in sheer alarm. When +heading toward the inshore shoals the brig was never put round till the +quick, loud cries of the leadsmen announced that there were no more than +three feet of water under her keel; and when standing toward the steep +inner edge of the long reef, where the lead was of no use, the helm +would be put down only when the cutwater touched the faint line of the +bordering foam. Lingard's love for his brig was a man's love, and was +so great that it could never be appeased unless he called on her to put +forth all her qualities and her power, to repay his exacting affection +by a faithfulness tried to the very utmost limit of endurance. Every +flutter of the sails flew down from aloft along the taut leeches, to +enter his heart in a sense of acute delight; and the gentle murmur of +water alongside, which, continuous and soft, showed that in all her +windings his incomparable craft had never, even for an instant, ceased +to carry her way, was to him more precious and inspiring than the soft +whisper of tender words would have been to another man. It was in such +moments that he lived intensely, in a flush of strong feeling that made +him long to press his little vessel to his breast. She was his perfect +world full of trustful joy. + +The people on board the yacht, who watched eagerly the first sail they +had seen since they had been ashore on that deserted part of the coast, +soon made her out, with some disappointment, to be a small merchant brig +beating up tack for tack along the inner edge of the reef--probably with +the intention to communicate and offer assistance. The general opinion +among the seafaring portion of her crew was that little effective +assistance could be expected from a vessel of that description. Only +the sailing-master of the yacht remarked to the boatswain (who had the +advantage of being his first cousin): "This man is well acquainted here; +you can see that by the way he handles his brig. I shan't be sorry to +have somebody to stand by us. Can't tell when we will get off this mud, +George." + +A long board, sailed very close, enabled the brig to fetch the southern +limit of discoloured water over the bank on which the yacht had +stranded. On the very edge of the muddy patch she was put in stays for +the last time. As soon as she had paid off on the other tack, sail was +shortened smartly, and the brig commenced the stretch that was to bring +her to her anchorage, under her topsails, lower staysails and jib. There +was then less than a quarter of a mile of shallow water between her and +the yacht; but while that vessel had gone ashore with her head to the +eastward the brig was moving slowly in a west-northwest direction, and +consequently, sailed--so to speak--past the whole length of the yacht. +Lingard saw every soul in the schooner on deck, watching his advent in +a silence which was as unbroken and perfect as that on board his own +vessel. + +A little man with a red face framed in white whiskers waved a gold-laced +cap above the rail in the waist of the yacht. Lingard raised his arm in +return. Further aft, under the white awnings, he could see two men and +a woman. One of the men and the lady were in blue. The other man, +who seemed very tall and stood with his arm entwined round an awning +stanchion above his head, was clad in white. Lingard saw them plainly. +They looked at the brig through binoculars, turned their faces to +one another, moved their lips, seemed surprised. A large dog put his +forepaws on the rail, and, lifting up his big, black head, sent out +three loud and plaintive barks, then dropped down out of sight. A sudden +stir and an appearance of excitement amongst all hands on board the +yacht was caused by their perceiving that the boat towing astern of the +stranger was their own second gig. + +Arms were outstretched with pointing fingers. Someone shouted out a +long sentence of which not a word could be made out; and then the brig, +having reached the western limit of the bank, began to move diagonally +away, increasing her distance from the yacht but bringing her stern +gradually into view. The people aft, Lingard noticed, left their places +and walked over to the taffrail so as to keep him longer in sight. + +When about a mile off the bank and nearly in line with the stern of the +yacht the brig's topsails fluttered and the yards came down slowly +on the caps; the fore and aft canvas ran down; and for some time she +floated quietly with folded wings upon the transparent sheet of water, +under the radiant silence of the sky. Then her anchor went to the bottom +with a rumbling noise resembling the roll of distant thunder. In a +moment her head tended to the last puffs of the northerly airs and the +ensign at the peak stirred, unfurled itself slowly, collapsed, flew out +again, and finally hung down straight and still, as if weighted with +lead. + +"Dead calm, sir," said Shaw to Lingard. "Dead calm again. We got into +this funny place in the nick of time, sir." + +They stood for a while side by side, looking round upon the coast and +the sea. The brig had been brought up in the middle of a broad belt of +clear water. To the north rocky ledges showed in black and white lines +upon the slight swell setting in from there. A small island stood out +from the broken water like the square tower of some submerged building. +It was about two miles distant from the brig. To the eastward the coast +was low; a coast of green forests fringed with dark mangroves. There was +in its sombre dullness a clearly defined opening, as if a small piece +had been cut out with a sharp knife. The water in it shone like a patch +of polished silver. Lingard pointed it out to Shaw. + +"This is the entrance to the place where we are going," he said. + +Shaw stared, round-eyed. + +"I thought you came here on account of this here yacht," he stammered, +surprised. + +"Ah. The yacht," said Lingard, musingly, keeping his eyes on the break +in the coast. "The yacht--" He stamped his foot suddenly. "I would give +all I am worth and throw in a few days of life into the bargain if I +could get her off and away before to-night." + +He calmed down, and again stood gazing at the land. A little within the +entrance from behind the wall of forests an invisible fire belched out +steadily the black and heavy convolutions of thick smoke, which stood +out high, like a twisted and shivering pillar against the clear blue of +the sky. + +"We must stop that game, Mr. Shaw," said Lingard, abruptly. + +"Yes, sir. What game?" asked Shaw, looking round in wonder. + +"This smoke," said Lingard, impatiently. "It's a signal." + +"Certainly, sir--though I don't see how we can do it. It seems far +inland. A signal for what, sir?" + +"It was not meant for us," said Lingard in an unexpectedly savage tone. +"Here, Shaw, make them put a blank charge into that forecastle gun. Tell +'em to ram hard the wadding and grease the mouth. We want to make a good +noise. If old Jorgenson hears it, that fire will be out before you have +time to turn round twice. . . . In a minute, Mr. Carter." + +The yacht's boat had come alongside as soon as the brig had been brought +up, and Carter had been waiting to take Lingard on board the yacht. They +both walked now to the gangway. Shaw, following his commander, stood by +to take his last orders. + +"Put all the boats in the water, Mr. Shaw," Lingard was saying, with one +foot on the rail, ready to leave his ship, "and mount the four-pounder +swivel in the longboat's bow. Cast off the sea lashings of the guns, +but don't run 'em out yet. Keep the topsails loose and the jib ready for +setting, I may want the sails in a hurry. Now, Mr. Carter, I am ready +for you." + +"Shove off, boys," said Carter as soon as they were seated in the boat. +"Shove off, and give way for a last pull before you get a long rest." + +The men lay back on their oars, grunting. Their faces were drawn, grey +and streaked with the dried salt sprays. They had the worried expression +of men who had a long call made upon their endurance. Carter, heavy-eyed +and dull, steered for the yacht's gangway. Lingard asked as they were +crossing the brig's bows: + +"Water enough alongside your craft, I suppose?" + +"Yes. Eight to twelve feet," answered Carter, hoarsely. "Say, Captain! +Where's your show of cutthroats? Why! This sea is as empty as a church +on a week-day." + +The booming report, nearly over his head, of the brig's eighteen-pounder +interrupted him. A round puff of white vapour, spreading itself lazily, +clung in fading shreds about the foreyard. Lingard, turning half round +in the stern sheets, looked at the smoke on the shore. Carter remained +silent, staring sleepily at the yacht they were approaching. Lingard +kept watching the smoke so intensely that he almost forgot where he +was, till Carter's voice pronouncing sharply at his ear the words "way +enough," recalled him to himself. + +They were in the shadow of the yacht and coming alongside her ladder. +The master of the brig looked upward into the face of a gentleman, +with long whiskers and a shaved chin, staring down at him over the side +through a single eyeglass. As he put his foot on the bottom step he +could see the shore smoke still ascending, unceasing and thick; but even +as he looked the very base of the black pillar rose above the ragged +line of tree-tops. The whole thing floated clear away from the earth, +and rolling itself into an irregularly shaped mass, drifted out to +seaward, travelling slowly over the blue heavens, like a threatening and +lonely cloud. + + + +PART II. THE SHORE OF REFUGE + +I + +The coast off which the little brig, floating upright above her anchor, +seemed to guard the high hull of the yacht has no distinctive features. +It is land without form. It stretches away without cape or bluff, long +and low--indefinitely; and when the heavy gusts of the northeast monsoon +drive the thick rain slanting over the sea, it is seen faintly under the +grey sky, black and with a blurred outline like the straight edge of a +dissolving shore. In the long season of unclouded days, it presents to +view only a narrow band of earth that appears crushed flat upon the vast +level of waters by the weight of the sky, whose immense dome rests on it +in a line as fine and true as that of the sea horizon itself. + +Notwithstanding its nearness to the centres of European power, this +coast has been known for ages to the armed wanderers of these seas +as "The Shore of Refuge." It has no specific name on the charts, and +geography manuals don't mention it at all; but the wreckage of many +defeats unerringly drifts into its creeks. Its approaches are extremely +difficult for a stranger. Looked at from seaward, the innumerable islets +fringing what, on account of its vast size, may be called the mainland, +merge into a background that presents not a single landmark to point the +way through the intricate channels. It may be said that in a belt of sea +twenty miles broad along that low shore there is much more coral, mud, +sand, and stones than actual sea water. It was amongst the outlying +shoals of this stretch that the yacht had gone ashore and the events +consequent upon her stranding took place. + +The diffused light of the short daybreak showed the open water to the +westward, sleeping, smooth and grey, under a faded heaven. The straight +coast threw a heavy belt of gloom along the shoals, which, in the calm +of expiring night, were unmarked by the slightest ripple. In the faint +dawn the low clumps of bushes on the sandbanks appeared immense. + +Two figures, noiseless like two shadows, moved slowly over the beach of +a rocky islet, and stopped side by side on the very edge of the water. +Behind them, between the mats from which they had arisen, a small heap +of black embers smouldered quietly. They stood upright and perfectly +still, but for the slight movement of their heads from right to left and +back again as they swept their gaze through the grey emptiness of the +waters where, about two miles distant, the hull of the yacht loomed up +to seaward, black and shapeless, against the wan sky. + +The two figures looked beyond without exchanging as much as a murmur. +The taller of the two grounded, at arm's length, the stock of a gun with +a long barrel; the hair of the other fell down to its waist; and, near +by, the leaves of creepers drooping from the summit of the steep rock +stirred no more than the festooned stone. The faint light, disclosing +here and there a gleam of white sandbanks and the blurred hummocks of +islets scattered within the gloom of the coast, the profound silence, +the vast stillness all round, accentuated the loneliness of the two +human beings who, urged by a sleepless hope, had risen thus, at break of +day, to look afar upon the veiled face of the sea. + +"Nothing!" said the man with a sigh, and as if awakening from a long +period of musing. + +He was clad in a jacket of coarse blue cotton, of the kind a poor +fisherman might own, and he wore it wide open on a muscular chest the +colour and smoothness of bronze. From the twist of threadbare sarong +wound tightly on the hips protruded outward to the left the ivory hilt, +ringed with six bands of gold, of a weapon that would not have disgraced +a ruler. Silver glittered about the flintlock and the hardwood stock +of his gun. The red and gold handkerchief folded round his head was of +costly stuff, such as is woven by high-born women in the households of +chiefs, only the gold threads were tarnished and the silk frayed in the +folds. His head was thrown back, the dropped eyelids narrowed the gleam +of his eyes. His face was hairless, the nose short with mobile nostrils, +and the smile of careless good-humour seemed to have been permanently +wrought, as if with a delicate tool, into the slight hollows about +the corners of rather full lips. His upright figure had a negligent +elegance. But in the careless face, in the easy gestures of the whole +man there was something attentive and restrained. + +After giving the offing a last searching glance, he turned and, facing +the rising sun, walked bare-footed on the elastic sand. The trailed butt +of his gun made a deep furrow. The embers had ceased to smoulder. He +looked down at them pensively for a while, then called over his shoulder +to the girl who had remained behind, still scanning the sea: + +"The fire is out, Immada." + +At the sound of his voice the girl moved toward the mats. Her black hair +hung like a mantle. Her sarong, the kilt-like garment which both sexes +wear, had the national check of grey and red, but she had not completed +her attire by the belt, scarves, the loose upper wrappings, and the +head-covering of a woman. A black silk jacket, like that of a man of +rank, was buttoned over her bust and fitted closely to her slender +waist. The edge of a stand-up collar, stiff with gold embroidery, +rubbed her cheek. She had no bracelets, no anklets, and although dressed +practically in man's clothes, had about her person no weapon of any +sort. Her arms hung down in exceedingly tight sleeves slit a little way +up from the wrist, gold-braided and with a row of small gold buttons. +She walked, brown and alert, all of a piece, with short steps, the eyes +lively in an impassive little face, the arched mouth closed firmly; and +her whole person breathed in its rigid grace the fiery gravity of youth +at the beginning of the task of life--at the beginning of beliefs and +hopes. + +This was the day of Lingard's arrival upon the coast, but, as is known, +the brig, delayed by the calm, did not appear in sight of the shallows +till the morning was far advanced. Disappointed in their hope to see the +expected sail shining in the first rays of the rising sun, the man and +the woman, without attempting to relight the fire, lounged on their +sleeping mats. At their feet a common canoe, hauled out of the water, +was, for more security, moored by a grass rope to the shaft of a long +spear planted firmly on the white beach, and the incoming tide lapped +monotonously against its stern. + +The girl, twisting up her black hair, fastened it with slender wooden +pins. The man, reclining at full length, had made room on his mat for +the gun--as one would do for a friend--and, supported on his elbow, +looked toward the yacht with eyes whose fixed dreaminess like a +transparent veil would show the slow passage of every gloomy thought by +deepening gradually into a sombre stare. + +"We have seen three sunrises on this islet, and no friend came from the +sea," he said without changing his attitude, with his back toward the +girl who sat on the other side of the cold embers. + +"Yes; and the moon is waning," she answered in a low voice. "The moon +is waning. Yet he promised to be here when the nights are light and the +water covers the sandbanks as far as the bushes." + +"The traveller knows the time of his setting out, but not the time of +his return," observed the man, calmly. + +The girl sighed. + +"The nights of waiting are long," she murmured. + +"And sometimes they are vain," said the man with the same composure. +"Perhaps he will never return." + +"Why?" exclaimed the girl. + +"The road is long and the heart may grow cold," was the answer in a +quiet voice. "If he does not return it is because he has forgotten." + +"Oh, Hassim, it is because he is dead," cried the girl, indignantly. + +The man, looking fixedly to seaward, smiled at the ardour of her tone. + +They were brother and sister, and though very much alike, the family +resemblance was lost in the more general traits common to the whole +race. + +They were natives of Wajo and it is a common saying amongst the Malay +race that to be a successful traveller and trader a man must have some +Wajo blood in his veins. And with those people trading, which means also +travelling afar, is a romantic and an honourable occupation. The trader +must possess an adventurous spirit and a keen understanding; he should +have the fearlessness of youth and the sagacity of age; he should be +diplomatic and courageous, so as to secure the favour of the great and +inspire fear in evil-doers. + +These qualities naturally are not expected in a shopkeeper or a Chinaman +pedlar; they are considered indispensable only for a man who, of noble +birth and perhaps related to the ruler of his own country, wanders over +the seas in a craft of his own and with many followers; carries from +island to island important news as well as merchandise; who may be +trusted with secret messages and valuable goods; a man who, in short, +is as ready to intrigue and fight as to buy and sell. Such is the ideal +trader of Wajo. + +Trading, thus understood, was the occupation of ambitious men who played +an occult but important part in all those national risings, religious +disturbances, and also in the organized piratical movements on a large +scale which, during the first half of the last century, affected the +fate of more than one native dynasty and, for a few years at least, +seriously endangered the Dutch rule in the East. When, at the cost of +much blood and gold, a comparative peace had been imposed on the +islands the same occupation, though shorn of its glorious possibilities, +remained attractive for the most adventurous of a restless race. The +younger sons and relations of many a native ruler traversed the seas of +the Archipelago, visited the innumerable and little-known islands, and +the then practically unknown shores of New Guinea; every spot where +European trade had not penetrated--from Aru to Atjeh, from Sumbawa to +Palawan. + + + +II + +It was in the most unknown perhaps of such spots, a small bay on the +coast of New Guinea, that young Pata Hassim, the nephew of one of the +greatest chiefs of Wajo, met Lingard for the first time. + +He was a trader after the Wajo manner, and in a stout sea-going prau +armed with two guns and manned by young men who were related to his +family by blood or dependence, had come in there to buy some birds +of paradise skins for the old Sultan of Ternate; a risky expedition +undertaken not in the way of business but as a matter of courtesy toward +the aged Sultan who had entertained him sumptuously in that dismal brick +palace at Ternate for a month or more. + +While lying off the village, very much on his guard, waiting for the +skins and negotiating with the treacherous coast-savages who are the +go-betweens in that trade, Hassim saw one morning Lingard's brig come +to an anchor in the bay, and shortly afterward observed a white man of +great stature with a beard that shone like gold, land from a boat and +stroll on unarmed, though followed by four Malays of the brig's crew, +toward the native village. + +Hassim was struck with wonder and amazement at the cool recklessness of +such a proceeding; and, after; in true Malay fashion, discussing with +his people for an hour or so the urgency of the case, he also landed, +but well escorted and armed, with the intention of going to see what +would happen. + +The affair really was very simple, "such as"--Lingard would say--"such +as might have happened to anybody." He went ashore with the intention +to look for some stream where he could conveniently replenish his water +casks, this being really the motive which had induced him to enter the +bay. + +While, with his men close by and surrounded by a mop-headed, sooty +crowd, he was showing a few cotton handkerchiefs, and trying to explain +by signs the object of his landing, a spear, lunged from behind, grazed +his neck. Probably the Papuan wanted only to ascertain whether such a +creature could be killed or hurt, and most likely firmly believed that +it could not; but one of Lingard's seamen at once retaliated by striking +at the experimenting savage with his parang--three such choppers brought +for the purpose of clearing the bush, if necessary, being all the +weapons the party from the brig possessed. + +A deadly tumult ensued with such suddenness that Lingard, turning round +swiftly, saw his defender, already speared in three places, fall forward +at his feet. Wasub, who was there, and afterward told the story once a +week on an average, used to horrify his hearers by showing how the man +blinked his eyes quickly before he fell. Lingard was unarmed. To the +end of his life he remained incorrigibly reckless in that respect, +explaining that he was "much too quick tempered to carry firearms on the +chance of a row. And if put to it," he argued, "I can make shift to kill +a man with my fist anyhow; and then--don't ye see--you know what +you're doing and are not so apt to start a trouble from sheer temper or +funk--see?" + +In this case he did his best to kill a man with a blow from the shoulder +and catching up another by the middle flung him at the naked, wild +crowd. "He hurled men about as the wind hurls broken boughs. He made a +broad way through our enemies!" related Wasub in his jerky voice. It is +more probable that Lingard's quick movements and the amazing aspect of +such a strange being caused the warriors to fall back before his rush. + +Taking instant advantage of their surprise and fear, Lingard, followed +by his men, dashed along the kind of ruinous jetty leading to the +village which was erected as usual over the water. They darted into one +of the miserable huts built of rotten mats and bits of decayed canoes, +and in this shelter showing daylight through all its sides, they +had time to draw breath and realize that their position was not much +improved. + +The women and children screaming had cleared out into the bush, while +at the shore end of the jetty the warriors capered and yelled, preparing +for a general attack. Lingard noticed with mortification that his +boat-keeper apparently had lost his head, for, instead of swimming off +to the ship to give the alarm, as he was perfectly able to do, the +man actually struck out for a small rock a hundred yards away and was +frantically trying to climb up its perpendicular side. The tide being +out, to jump into the horrible mud under the houses would have been +almost certain death. Nothing remained therefore--since the miserable +dwelling would not have withstood a vigorous kick, let alone a +siege--but to rush back on shore and regain possession of the boat. To +this Lingard made up his mind quickly and, arming himself with a crooked +stick he found under his hand, sallied forth at the head of his three +men. As he bounded along, far in advance, he had just time to perceive +clearly the desperate nature of the undertaking, when he heard two shots +fired to his right. The solid mass of black bodies and frizzly heads in +front of him wavered and broke up. They did not run away, however. + +Lingard pursued his course, but now with that thrill of exultation which +even a faint prospect of success inspires in a sanguine man. He heard a +shout of many voices far off, then there was another report of a shot, +and a musket ball fired at long range spurted a tiny jet of sand between +him and his wild enemies. His next bound would have carried him into +their midst had they awaited his onset, but his uplifted arm found +nothing to strike. Black backs were leaping high or gliding horizontally +through the grass toward the edge of the bush. + +He flung his stick at the nearest pair of black shoulders and stopped +short. The tall grasses swayed themselves into a rest, a chorus of yells +and piercing shrieks died out in a dismal howl, and all at once the +wooded shores and the blue bay seemed to fall under the spell of a +luminous stillness. The change was as startling as the awakening from a +dream. The sudden silence struck Lingard as amazing. + +He broke it by lifting his voice in a stentorian shout, which arrested +the pursuit of his men. They retired reluctantly, glaring back angrily +at the wall of a jungle where not a single leaf stirred. The strangers, +whose opportune appearance had decided the issue of that adventure, did +not attempt to join in the pursuit but halted in a compact body on the +ground lately occupied by the savages. + +Lingard and the young leader of the Wajo traders met in the splendid +light of noonday, and amidst the attentive silence of their followers, +on the very spot where the Malay seaman had lost his life. Lingard, +striding up from one side, thrust out his open palm; Hassim responded at +once to the frank gesture and they exchanged their first hand-clasp over +the prostrate body, as if fate had already exacted the price of a death +for the most ominous of her gifts--the gift of friendship that sometimes +contains the whole good or evil of a life. + +"I'll never forget this day," cried Lingard in a hearty tone; and the +other smiled quietly. + +Then after a short pause--"Will you burn the village for vengeance?" +asked the Malay with a quick glance down at the dead Lascar who, on his +face and with stretched arms, seemed to cling desperately to that earth +of which he had known so little. + +Lingard hesitated. + +"No," he said, at last. "It would do good to no one." + +"True," said Hassim, gently, "but was this man your debtor--a slave?" + +"Slave?" cried Lingard. "This is an English brig. Slave? No. A free man +like myself." + +"Hai. He is indeed free now," muttered the Malay with another glance +downward. "But who will pay the bereaved for his life?" + +"If there is anywhere a woman or child belonging to him, I--my serang +would know--I shall seek them out," cried Lingard, remorsefully. + +"You speak like a chief," said Hassim, "only our great men do not go +to battle with naked hands. O you white men! O the valour of you white +men!" + +"It was folly, pure folly," protested Lingard, "and this poor fellow has +paid for it." + +"He could not avoid his destiny," murmured the Malay. "It is in my mind +my trading is finished now in this place," he added, cheerfully. + +Lingard expressed his regret. + +"It is no matter, it is no matter," assured the other courteously, and +after Lingard had given a pressing invitation for Hassim and his two +companions of high rank to visit the brig, the two parties separated. + +The evening was calm when the Malay craft left its berth near the shore +and was rowed slowly across the bay to Lingard's anchorage. The end of a +stout line was thrown on board, and that night the white man's brig and +the brown man's prau swung together to the same anchor. + +The sun setting to seaward shot its last rays between the headlands, +when the body of the killed Lascar, wrapped up decently in a white +sheet, according to Mohammedan usage, was lowered gently below the +still waters of the bay upon which his curious glances, only a few +hours before, had rested for the first time. At the moment the dead man, +released from slip-ropes, disappeared without a ripple before the eyes +of his shipmates, the bright flash and the heavy report of the brig's +bow gun were succeeded by the muttering echoes of the encircling shores +and by the loud cries of sea birds that, wheeling in clouds, seemed +to scream after the departing seaman a wild and eternal good-bye. The +master of the brig, making his way aft with hanging head, was followed +by low murmurs of pleased surprise from his crew as well as from the +strangers who crowded the main deck. In such acts performed simply, from +conviction, what may be called the romantic side of the man's nature +came out; that responsive sensitiveness to the shadowy appeals made by +life and death, which is the groundwork of a chivalrous character. + +Lingard entertained his three visitors far into the night. A sheep from +the brig's sea stock was given to the men of the prau, while in the +cabin, Hassim and his two friends, sitting in a row on the stern settee, +looked very splendid with costly metals and flawed jewels. The talk +conducted with hearty friendship on Lingard's part, and on the part of +the Malays with the well-bred air of discreet courtesy, which is natural +to the better class of that people, touched upon many subjects and, in +the end, drifted to politics. + +"It is in my mind that you are a powerful man in your own country," said +Hassim, with a circular glance at the cuddy. + +"My country is upon a far-away sea where the light breezes are as strong +as the winds of the rainy weather here," said Lingard; and there were +low exclamations of wonder. "I left it very young, and I don't know +about my power there where great men alone are as numerous as the poor +people in all your islands, Tuan Hassim. But here," he continued, "here, +which is also my country--being an English craft and worthy of it, +too--I am powerful enough. In fact, I am Rajah here. This bit of my +country is all my own." + +The visitors were impressed, exchanged meaning glances, nodded at each +other. + +"Good, good," said Hassim at last, with a smile. "You carry your country +and your power with you over the sea. A Rajah upon the sea. Good!" + +Lingard laughed thunderously while the others looked amused. + +"Your country is very powerful--we know," began again Hassim after a +pause, "but is it stronger than the country of the Dutch who steal our +land?" + +"Stronger?" cried Lingard. He opened a broad palm. "Stronger? We +could take them in our hand like this--" and he closed his fingers +triumphantly. + +"And do you make them pay tribute for their land?" enquired Hassim with +eagerness. + +"No," answered Lingard in a sobered tone; "this, Tuan Hassim, you see, +is not the custom of white men. We could, of course--but it is not the +custom." + +"Is it not?" said the other with a sceptical smile. "They are stronger +than we are and they want tribute from us. And sometimes they get +it--even from Wajo where every man is free and wears a kris." + +There was a period of dead silence while Lingard looked thoughtful and +the Malays gazed stonily at nothing. + +"But we burn our powder amongst ourselves," went on Hassim, gently, "and +blunt our weapons upon one another." + +He sighed, paused, and then changing to an easy tone began to urge +Lingard to visit Wajo "for trade and to see friends," he said, laying +his hand on his breast and inclining his body slightly. + +"Aye. To trade with friends," cried Lingard with a laugh, "for such a +ship"--he waved his arm--"for such a vessel as this is like a household +where there are many behind the curtain. It is as costly as a wife and +children." + +The guests rose and took their leave. + +"You fired three shots for me, Panglima Hassim," said Lingard, +seriously, "and I have had three barrels of powder put on board your +prau; one for each shot. But we are not quits." + +The Malay's eyes glittered with pleasure. + +"This is indeed a friend's gift. Come to see me in my country!" + +"I promise," said Lingard, "to see you--some day." + +The calm surface of the bay reflected the glorious night sky, and the +brig with the prau riding astern seemed to be suspended amongst the +stars in a peace that was almost unearthly in the perfection of its +unstirring silence. The last hand-shakes were exchanged on deck, and the +Malays went aboard their own craft. Next morning, when a breeze sprang +up soon after sunrise, the brig and the prau left the bay together. When +clear of the land Lingard made all sail and sheered alongside to say +good-bye before parting company--the brig, of course, sailing three feet +to the prau's one. Hassim stood on the high deck aft. + +"Prosperous road," hailed Lingard. + +"Remember the promise!" shouted the other. "And come soon!" he went on, +raising his voice as the brig forged past. "Come soon--lest what perhaps +is written should come to pass!" + +The brig shot ahead. + +"What?" yelled Lingard in a puzzled tone, "what's written?" + +He listened. And floating over the water came faintly the words: + +"No one knows!" + + + +III + +"My word! I couldn't help liking the chap," would shout Lingard when +telling the story; and looking around at the eyes that glittered at him +through the smoke of cheroots, this Brixham trawler-boy, afterward a +youth in colliers, deep-water man, gold-digger, owner and commander of +"the finest brig afloat," knew that by his listeners--seamen, traders, +adventurers like himself--this was accepted not as the expression of a +feeling, but as the highest commendation he could give his Malay friend. + +"By heavens! I shall go to Wajo!" he cried, and a semicircle of +heads nodded grave approbation while a slightly ironical voice said +deliberately--"You are a made man, Tom, if you get on the right side of +that Rajah of yours." + +"Go in--and look out for yourself," cried another with a laugh. + +A little professional jealousy was unavoidable, Wajo, on account of its +chronic state of disturbance, being closed to the white traders; but +there was no real ill-will in the banter of these men, who, rising with +handshakes, dropped off one by one. Lingard went straight aboard his +vessel and, till morning, walked the poop of the brig with measured +steps. The riding lights of ships twinkled all round him; the lights +ashore twinkled in rows, the stars twinkled above his head in a black +sky; and reflected in the black water of the roadstead twinkled far +below his feet. And all these innumerable and shining points were +utterly lost in the immense darkness. Once he heard faintly the rumbling +chain of some vessel coming to an anchor far away somewhere outside +the official limits of the harbour. A stranger to the port--thought +Lingard--one of us would have stood right in. Perhaps a ship from home? +And he felt strangely touched at the thought of that ship, weary with +months of wandering, and daring not to approach the place of rest. At +sunrise, while the big ship from the West, her sides streaked with rust +and grey with the salt of the sea, was moving slowly in to take up +a berth near the shore, Lingard left the roadstead on his way to the +eastward. + +A heavy gulf thunderstorm was raging, when after a long passage and at +the end of a sultry calm day, wasted in drifting helplessly in sight +of his destination, Lingard, taking advantage of fitful gusts of wind, +approached the shores of Wajo. With characteristic audacity, he held on +his way, closing in with a coast to which he was a stranger, and on a +night that would have appalled any other man; while at every dazzling +flash, Hassim's native land seemed to leap nearer at the brig--and +disappear instantly as though it had crouched low for the next spring +out of an impenetrable darkness. During the long day of the calm, he had +obtained from the deck and from aloft, such good views of the coast, +and had noted the lay of the land and the position of the dangers so +carefully that, though at the precise moment when he gave the order to +let go the anchor, he had been for some time able to see no further +than if his head had been wrapped in a woollen blanket, yet the next +flickering bluish flash showed him the brig, anchored almost exactly +where he had judged her to be, off a narrow white beach near the mouth +of a river. + +He could see on the shore a high cluster of bamboo huts perched upon +piles, a small grove of tall palms all bowed together before the blast +like stalks of grass, something that might have been a palisade +of pointed stakes near the water, and far off, a sombre background +resembling an immense wall--the forest-clad hills. Next moment, all this +vanished utterly from his sight, as if annihilated and, before he had +time to turn away, came back to view with a sudden crash, appearing +unscathed and motionless under hooked darts of flame, like some +legendary country of immortals, withstanding the wrath and fire of +Heaven. + +Made uneasy by the nature of his holding ground, and fearing that in one +of the terrific off-shore gusts the brig would start her anchor, Lingard +remained on deck to watch over the safety of his vessel. With one hand +upon the lead-line which would give him instant warning of the brig +beginning to drag, he stood by the rail, most of the time deafened +and blinded, but also fascinated, by the repeated swift visions of an +unknown shore, a sight always so inspiring, as much perhaps by its vague +suggestion of danger as by the hopes of success it never fails to awaken +in the heart of a true adventurer. And its immutable aspect of profound +and still repose, seen thus under streams of fire and in the midst of a +violent uproar, made it appear inconceivably mysterious and amazing. + +Between the squalls there were short moments of calm, while now and then +even the thunder would cease as if to draw breath. During one of those +intervals. Lingard, tired and sleepy, was beginning to doze where he +stood, when suddenly it occurred to him that, somewhere below, the sea +had spoken in a human voice. It had said, "Praise be to God--" and the +voice sounded small, clear, and confident, like the voice of a child +speaking in a cathedral. Lingard gave a start and thought--I've dreamed +this--and directly the sea said very close to him, "Give a rope." + +The thunder growled wickedly, and Lingard, after shouting to the men on +deck, peered down at the water, until at last he made out floating close +alongside the upturned face of a man with staring eyes that gleamed at +him and then blinked quickly to a flash of lightning. By that time all +hands in the brig were wildly active and many ropes-ends had been thrown +over. Then together with a gust of wind, and, as if blown on board, a +man tumbled over the rail and fell all in a heap upon the deck. Before +any one had the time to pick him up, he leaped to his feet, causing the +people around him to step back hurriedly. A sinister blue glare showed +the bewildered faces and the petrified attitudes of men completely +deafened by the accompanying peal of thunder. After a time, as if to +beings plunged in the abyss of eternal silence, there came to their ears +an unfamiliar thin, far-away voice saying: + +"I seek the white man." + +"Here," cried Lingard. Then, when he had the stranger, dripping and +naked but for a soaked waistcloth, under the lamp of the cabin, he said, +"I don't know you." + +"My name is Jaffir, and I come from Pata Hassim, who is my chief and +your friend. Do you know this?" + +He held up a thick gold ring, set with a fairly good emerald. + +"I have seen it before on the Rajah's finger," said Lingard, looking +very grave. + +"It is the witness of the truth I speak--the message from Hassim +is--'Depart and forget!'" + +"I don't forget," said Lingard, slowly. "I am not that kind of man. What +folly is this?" + +It is unnecessary to give at full length the story told by Jaffir. It +appears that on his return home, after the meeting with Lingard, +Hassim found his relative dying and a strong party formed to oppose +his rightful successor. The old Rajah Tulla died late at night and--as +Jaffir put it--before the sun rose there were already blows exchanged in +the courtyard of the ruler's dalam. This was the preliminary fight of a +civil war, fostered by foreign intrigues; a war of jungle and river, +of assaulted stockades and forest ambushes. In this contest, both +parties--according to Jaffir--displayed great courage, and one of them +an unswerving devotion to what, almost from the first, was a lost cause. +Before a month elapsed Hassim, though still chief of an armed band, was +already a fugitive. He kept up the struggle, however, with some vague +notion that Lingard's arrival would turn the tide. + +"For weeks we lived on wild rice; for days we fought with nothing +but water in our bellies," declaimed Jaffir in the tone of a true +fire-eater. + +And then he went on to relate, how, driven steadily down to the sea, +Hassim, with a small band of followers, had been for days holding the +stockade by the waterside. + +"But every night some men disappeared," confessed Jaffir. "They were +weary and hungry and they went to eat with their enemies. We are only +ten now--ten men and a woman with the heart of a man, who are tonight +starving, and to-morrow shall die swiftly. We saw your ship afar all +day; but you have come too late. And for fear of treachery and lest harm +should befall you--his friend--the Rajah gave me the ring and I crept +on my stomach over the sand, and I swam in the night--and I, Jaffir, the +best swimmer in Wajo, and the slave of Hassim, tell you--his message to +you is 'Depart and forget'--and this is his gift--take!" + +He caught hold suddenly of Lingard's hand, thrust roughly into it the +ring, and then for the first time looked round the cabin with wondering +but fearless eyes. They lingered over the semicircle of bayonets and +rested fondly on musket-racks. He grunted in admiration. + +"Ya-wa, this is strength!" he murmured as if to himself. "But it has +come too late." + +"Perhaps not," cried Lingard. + +"Too late," said Jaffir, "we are ten only, and at sunrise we go out to +die." He went to the cabin door and hesitated there with a puzzled air, +being unused to locks and door handles. + +"What are you going to do?" asked Lingard. + +"I shall swim back," replied Jaffir. "The message is spoken and the +night can not last forever." + +"You can stop with me," said Lingard, looking at the man searchingly. + +"Hassim waits," was the curt answer. + +"Did he tell you to return?" asked Lingard. + +"No! What need?" said the other in a surprised tone. + +Lingard seized his hand impulsively. + +"If I had ten men like you!" he cried. + +"We are ten, but they are twenty to one," said Jaffir, simply. + +Lingard opened the door. + +"Do you want anything that a man can give?" he asked. + +The Malay had a moment of hesitation, and Lingard noticed the sunken +eyes, the prominent ribs, and the worn-out look of the man. + +"Speak out," he urged with a smile; "the bearer of a gift must have a +reward." + +"A drink of water and a handful of rice for strength to reach the +shore," said Jaffir sturdily. "For over there"--he tossed his head--"we +had nothing to eat to-day." + +"You shall have it--give it to you with my own hands," muttered Lingard. + +He did so, and thus lowered himself in Jaffir's estimation for a time. +While the messenger, squatting on the floor, ate without haste but with +considerable earnestness, Lingard thought out a plan of action. In his +ignorance as to the true state of affairs in the country, to save +Hassim from the immediate danger of his position was all that he could +reasonably attempt. To that end Lingard proposed to swing out his +long-boat and send her close inshore to take off Hassim and his men. He +knew enough of Malays to feel sure that on such a night the besiegers, +now certain of success, and being, Jaffir said, in possession of +everything that could float, would not be very vigilant, especially on +the sea front of the stockade. The very fact of Jaffir having managed +to swim off undetected proved that much. The brig's boat could--when the +frequency of lightning abated--approach unseen close to the beach, and +the defeated party, either stealing out one by one or making a rush in a +body, would embark and be received in the brig. + +This plan was explained to Jaffir, who heard it without the slightest +mark of interest, being apparently too busy eating. When the last grain +of rice was gone, he stood up, took a long pull at the water bottle, +muttered: "I hear. Good. I will tell Hassim," and tightening the rag +round his loins, prepared to go. "Give me time to swim ashore," he said, +"and when the boat starts, put another light beside the one that burns +now like a star above your vessel. We shall see and understand. And +don't send the boat till there is less lightning: a boat is bigger than +a man in the water. Tell the rowers to pull for the palm-grove and cease +when an oar, thrust down with a strong arm, touches the bottom. Very +soon they will hear our hail; but if no one comes they must go away +before daylight. A chief may prefer death to life, and we who are left +are all of true heart. Do you understand, O big man?" + +"The chap has plenty of sense," muttered Lingard to himself, and when +they stood side by side on the deck, he said: "But there may be enemies +on the beach, O Jaffir, and they also may shout to deceive my men. So +let your hail be Lightning! Will you remember?" + +For a time Jaffir seemed to be choking. + +"Lit-ing! Is that right? I say--is that right, O strong man?" Next +moment he appeared upright and shadowy on the rail. + +"Yes. That's right. Go now," said Lingard, and Jaffir leaped off, +becoming invisible long before he struck the water. Then there was a +splash; after a while a spluttering voice cried faintly, "Lit-ing! Ah, +ha!" and suddenly the next thunder-squall burst upon the coast. In the +crashing flares of light Lingard had again and again the quick vision of +a white beach, the inclined palm-trees of the grove, the stockade by +the sea, the forest far away: a vast landscape mysterious and +still--Hassim's native country sleeping unmoved under the wrath and fire +of Heaven. + + + +IV + +A Traveller visiting Wajo to-day may, if he deserves the confidence of +the common people, hear the traditional account of the last civil war, +together with the legend of a chief and his sister, whose mother had +been a great princess suspected of sorcery and on her death-bed had +communicated to these two the secrets of the art of magic. The chief's +sister especially, "with the aspect of a child and the fearlessness of a +great fighter," became skilled in casting spells. They were defeated by +the son of their uncle, because--will explain the narrator simply--"The +courage of us Wajo people is so great that magic can do nothing against +it. I fought in that war. We had them with their backs to the sea." +And then he will go on to relate in an awed tone how on a certain night +"when there was such a thunderstorm as has been never heard of before +or since" a ship, resembling the ships of white men, appeared off the +coast, "as though she had sailed down from the clouds. She moved," he +will affirm, "with her sails bellying against the wind; in size she was +like an island; the lightning played between her masts which were as +high as the summits of mountains; a star burned low through the clouds +above her. We knew it for a star at once because no flame of man's +kindling could have endured the wind and rain of that night. It was such +a night that we on the watch hardly dared look upon the sea. The heavy +rain was beating down our eyelids. And when day came, the ship was +nowhere to be seen, and in the stockade where the day before there were +a hundred or more at our mercy, there was no one. The chief, Hassim, was +gone, and the lady who was a princess in the country--and nobody knows +what became of them from that day to this. Sometimes traders from our +parts talk of having heard of them here, and heard of them there, but +these are the lies of men who go afar for gain. We who live in the +country believe that the ship sailed back into the clouds whence the +Lady's magic made her come. Did we not see the ship with our own eyes? +And as to Rajah Hassim and his sister, Mas Immada, some men say one +thing and some another, but God alone knows the truth." + +Such is the traditional account of Lingard's visit to the shores of +Boni. And the truth is he came and went the same night; for, when the +dawn broke on a cloudy sky the brig, under reefed canvas and smothered +in sprays, was storming along to the southward on her way out of the +Gulf. Lingard, watching over the rapid course of his vessel, looked +ahead with anxious eyes and more than once asked himself with wonder, +why, after all, was he thus pressing her under all the sail she could +carry. His hair was blown about by the wind, his mind was full of care +and the indistinct shapes of many new thoughts, and under his feet, the +obedient brig dashed headlong from wave to wave. + +Her owner and commander did not know where he was going. That adventurer +had only a confused notion of being on the threshold of a big adventure. +There was something to be done, and he felt he would have to do it. It +was expected of him. The seas expected it; the land expected it. Men +also. The story of war and of suffering; Jaffir's display of fidelity, +the sight of Hassim and his sister, the night, the tempest, the coast +under streams of fire--all this made one inspiring manifestation of a +life calling to him distinctly for interference. But what appealed to +him most was the silent, the complete, unquestioning, and apparently +uncurious, trust of these people. They came away from death straight +into his arms as it were, and remained in them passive as though +there had been no such thing as doubt or hope or desire. This amazing +unconcern seemed to put him under a heavy load of obligation. + +He argued to himself that had not these defeated men expected everything +from him they could not have been so indifferent to his action. Their +dumb quietude stirred him more than the most ardent pleading. Not a +word, not a whisper, not a questioning look even! They did not ask! It +flattered him. He was also rather glad of it, because if the unconscious +part of him was perfectly certain of its action, he, himself, did not +know what to do with those bruised and battered beings a playful fate +had delivered suddenly into his hands. + +He had received the fugitives personally, had helped some over the rail; +in the darkness, slashed about by lightning, he had guessed that not one +of them was unwounded, and in the midst of tottering shapes he wondered +how on earth they had managed to reach the long-boat that had brought +them off. He caught unceremoniously in his arms the smallest of these +shapes and carried it into the cabin, then without looking at his light +burden ran up again on deck to get the brig under way. While shouting +out orders he was dimly aware of someone hovering near his elbow. It was +Hassim. + +"I am not ready for war," he explained, rapidly, over his shoulder, +"and to-morrow there may be no wind." Afterward for a time he forgot +everybody and everything while he conned the brig through the few +outlying dangers. But in half an hour, and running off with the wind on +the quarter, he was quite clear of the coast and breathed freely. It +was only then that he approached two others on that poop where he was +accustomed in moments of difficulty to commune alone with his craft. +Hassim had called his sister out of the cabin; now and then Lingard +could see them with fierce distinctness, side by side, and with twined +arms, looking toward the mysterious country that seemed at every flash +to leap away farther from the brig--unscathed and fading. + +The thought uppermost in Lingard's mind was: "What on earth am I going +to do with them?" And no one seemed to care what he would do. Jaffir +with eight others quartered on the main hatch, looked to each other's +wounds and conversed interminably in low tones, cheerful and quiet, like +well-behaved children. Each of them had saved his kris, but Lingard had +to make a distribution of cotton cloth out of his trade-goods. Whenever +he passed by them, they all looked after him gravely. Hassim and Immada +lived in the cuddy. The chief's sister took the air only in the evening +and those two could be heard every night, invisible and murmuring in the +shadows of the quarter-deck. Every Malay on board kept respectfully away +from them. + +Lingard, on the poop, listened to the soft voices, rising and falling, +in a melancholy cadence; sometimes the woman cried out as if in anger or +in pain. He would stop short. The sound of a deep sigh would float up +to him on the stillness of the night. Attentive stars surrounded the +wandering brig and on all sides their light fell through a vast silence +upon a noiseless sea. Lingard would begin again to pace the deck, +muttering to himself. + +"Belarab's the man for this job. His is the only place where I can look +for help, but I don't think I know enough to find it. I wish I had old +Jorgenson here--just for ten minutes." + +This Jorgenson knew things that had happened a long time ago, and lived +amongst men efficient in meeting the accidents of the day, but who did +not care what would happen to-morrow and who had no time to remember +yesterday. Strictly speaking, he did not live amongst them. He only +appeared there from time to time. He lived in the native quarter, with +a native woman, in a native house standing in the middle of a plot +of fenced ground where grew plantains, and furnished only with mats, +cooking pots, a queer fishing net on two sticks, and a small mahogany +case with a lock and a silver plate engraved with the words "Captain H. +C. Jorgenson. Barque Wild Rose." + +It was like an inscription on a tomb. The Wild Rose was dead, and so was +Captain H. C. Jorgenson, and the sextant case was all that was left +of them. Old Jorgenson, gaunt and mute, would turn up at meal times on +board any trading vessel in the Roads, and the stewards--Chinamen +or mulattos--would sulkily put on an extra plate without waiting for +orders. When the seamen traders foregathered noisily round a glittering +cluster of bottles and glasses on a lighted verandah, old Jorgenson +would emerge up the stairs as if from a dark sea, and, stepping up with +a kind of tottering jauntiness, would help himself in the first tumbler +to hand. + +"I drink to you all. No--no chair." + +He would stand silent over the talking group. His taciturnity was as +eloquent as the repeated warning of the slave of the feast. His flesh +had gone the way of all flesh, his spirit had sunk in the turmoil of his +past, but his immense and bony frame survived as if made of iron. His +hands trembled but his eyes were steady. He was supposed to know details +about the end of mysterious men and of mysterious enterprises. He was an +evident failure himself, but he was believed to know secrets that would +make the fortune of any man; yet there was also a general impression +that his knowledge was not of that nature which would make it profitable +for a moderately prudent person. + +This powerful skeleton, dressed in faded blue serge and without any kind +of linen, existed anyhow. Sometimes, if offered the job, he piloted +a home ship through the Straits of Rhio, after, however, assuring the +captain: + +"You don't want a pilot; a man could go through with his eyes shut. But +if you want me, I'll come. Ten dollars." + +Then, after seeing his charge clear of the last island of the group he +would go back thirty miles in a canoe, with two old Malays who seemed +to be in some way his followers. To travel thirty miles at sea under +the equatorial sun and in a cranky dug-out where once down you must not +move, is an achievement that requires the endurance of a fakir and the +virtue of a salamander. Ten dollars was cheap and generally he was in +demand. When times were hard he would borrow five dollars from any of +the adventurers with the remark: + +"I can't pay you back, very soon, but the girl must eat, and if you want +to know anything, I can tell you." + +It was remarkable that nobody ever smiled at that "anything." The usual +thing was to say: + +"Thank you, old man; when I am pushed for a bit of information I'll come +to you." + +Jorgenson nodded then and would say: "Remember that unless you young +chaps are like we men who ranged about here years ago, what I could tell +you would be worse than poison." + +It was from Jorgenson, who had his favourites with whom he was less +silent, that Lingard had heard of Darat-es-Salam, the "Shore of Refuge." +Jorgenson had, as he expressed it, "known the inside of that country +just after the high old times when the white-clad Padris preached and +fought all over Sumatra till the Dutch shook in their shoes." Only he +did not say "shook" and "shoes" but the above paraphrase conveys well +enough his contemptuous meaning. Lingard tried now to remember and piece +together the practical bits of old Jorgenson's amazing tales; but all +that had remained with him was an approximate idea of the locality and +a very strong but confused notion of the dangerous nature of its +approaches. He hesitated, and the brig, answering in her movements to +the state of the man's mind, lingered on the road, seemed to hesitate +also, swinging this way and that on the days of calm. + +It was just because of that hesitation that a big New York ship, loaded +with oil in cases for Japan, and passing through the Billiton passage, +sighted one morning a very smart brig being hove-to right in the +fair-way and a little to the east of Carimata. The lank skipper, in a +frock-coat, and the big mate with heavy moustaches, judged her almost +too pretty for a Britisher, and wondered at the man on board laying his +topsail to the mast for no reason that they could see. The big ship's +sails fanned her along, flapping in the light air, and when the brig was +last seen far astern she had still her mainyard aback as if waiting for +someone. But when, next day, a London tea-clipper passed on the same +track, she saw no pretty brig hesitating, all white and still at the +parting of the ways. All that night Lingard had talked with Hassim while +the stars streamed from east to west like an immense river of sparks +above their heads. Immada listened, sometimes exclaiming low, sometimes +holding her breath. She clapped her hands once. A faint dawn appeared. + +"You shall be treated like my father in the country," Hassim was saying. +A heavy dew dripped off the rigging and the darkened sails were black +on the pale azure of the sky. "You shall be the father who advises for +good--" + +"I shall be a steady friend, and as a friend I want to be treated--no +more," said Lingard. "Take back your ring." + +"Why do you scorn my gift?" asked Hassim, with a sad and ironic smile. + +"Take it," said Lingard. "It is still mine. How can I forget that, when +facing death, you thought of my safety? There are many dangers before +us. We shall be often separated--to work better for the same end. If +ever you and Immada need help at once and I am within reach, send me a +message with this ring and if I am alive I will not fail you." He looked +around at the pale daybreak. "I shall talk to Belarab straight--like we +whites do. I have never seen him, but I am a strong man. Belarab must +help us to reconquer your country and when our end is attained I won't +let him eat you up." + +Hassim took the ring and inclined his head. + +"It's time for us to be moving," said Lingard. He felt a slight tug at +his sleeve. He looked back and caught Immada in the act of pressing her +forehead to the grey flannel. "Don't, child!" he said, softly. + +The sun rose above the faint blue line of the Shore of Refuge. + +The hesitation was over. The man and the vessel, working in accord, had +found their way to the faint blue shore. Before the sun had descended +half-way to its rest the brig was anchored within a gunshot of the slimy +mangroves, in a place where for a hundred years or more no white man's +vessel had been entrusted to the hold of the bottom. The adventurers +of two centuries ago had no doubt known of that anchorage for they were +very ignorant and incomparably audacious. If it is true, as some say, +that the spirits of the dead haunt the places where the living have +sinned and toiled, then they might have seen a white long-boat, pulled +by eight oars and steered by a man sunburnt and bearded, a cabbage-leaf +hat on head, and pistols in his belt, skirting the black mud, full of +twisted roots, in search of a likely opening. + +Creek after creek was passed and the boat crept on slowly like a +monstrous water-spider with a big body and eight slender legs. . . . Did +you follow with your ghostly eyes the quest of this obscure adventurer +of yesterday, you shades of forgotten adventurers who, in leather +jerkins and sweating under steel helmets, attacked with long rapiers the +palisades of the strange heathen, or, musket on shoulder and match in +cock, guarded timber blockhouses built upon the banks of rivers that +command good trade? You, who, wearied with the toil of fighting, slept +wrapped in frieze mantles on the sand of quiet beaches, dreaming of +fabulous diamonds and of a far-off home. + +"Here's an opening," said Lingard to Hassim, who sat at his side, just +as the sun was setting away to his left. "Here's an opening big enough +for a ship. It's the entrance we are looking for, I believe. We shall +pull all night up this creek if necessary and it's the very devil if we +don't come upon Belarab's lair before daylight." + +He shoved the tiller hard over and the boat, swerving sharply, vanished +from the coast. + +And perhaps the ghosts of old adventurers nodded wisely their ghostly +heads and exchanged the ghost of a wistful smile. + + + +V + +"What's the matter with King Tom of late?" would ask someone when, all +the cards in a heap on the table, the traders lying back in their chairs +took a spell from a hard gamble. + +"Tom has learned to hold his tongue, he must be up to some dam' good +thing," opined another; while a man with hooked features and of German +extraction who was supposed to be agent for a Dutch crockery house--the +famous "Sphinx" mark--broke in resentfully: + +"Nefer mind him, shentlemens, he's matt, matt as a Marsh Hase. Dree +monats ago I call on board his prig to talk pizness. And he says like +dis--'Glear oudt.' 'Vat for?' I say. 'Glear oudt before I shuck you +oferboard.' Gott-for-dam! Iss dat the vay to talk pizness? I vant sell +him ein liddle case first chop grockery for trade and--" + +"Ha, ha, ha! I don't blame Tom," interrupted the owner of a pearling +schooner, who had come into the Roads for stores. "Why, Mosey, there +isn't a mangy cannibal left in the whole of New Guinea that hasn't got a +cup and saucer of your providing. You've flooded the market, savee?" + +Jorgenson stood by, a skeleton at the gaming table. + +"Because you are a Dutch spy," he said, suddenly, in an awful tone. + +The agent of the Sphinx mark jumped up in a sudden fury. + +"Vat? Vat? Shentlemens, you all know me!" Not a muscle moved in +the faces around. "Know me," he stammered with wet lips. "Vat, funf +year--berfegtly acquaint--grockery--Verfluchte sponsher. Ich? Spy. Vat +for spy? Vordamte English pedlars!" + +The door slammed. "Is that so?" asked a New England voice. "Why don't +you let daylight into him?" + +"Oh, we can't do that here," murmured one of the players. "Your deal, +Trench, let us get on." + +"Can't you?" drawled the New England voice. "You law-abiding, +get-a-summons, act-of--parliament lot of sons of Belial--can't you? +Now, look a-here, these Colt pistols I am selling--" He took the pearler +aside and could be heard talking earnestly in the corner. "See--you +load--and--see?" There were rapid clicks. "Simple, isn't it? And if +any trouble--say with your divers"--_click, click, click_--"Through and +through--like a sieve--warranted to cure the worst kind of cussedness +in any nigger. Yes, siree! A case of twenty-four or single specimens--as +you like. No? Shot-guns--rifles? No! Waal, I guess you're of no use to +me, but I could do a deal with that Tom--what d'ye call him? Where d'ye +catch him? Everywhere--eh? Waal--that's nowhere. But I shall find him +some day--yes, siree." + +Jorgenson, utterly disregarded, looked down dreamily at the falling +cards. "Spy--I tell you," he muttered to himself. "If you want to know +anything, ask me." + +When Lingard returned from Wajo--after an uncommonly long +absence--everyone remarked a great change. He was less talkative and +not so noisy, he was still hospitable but his hospitality was less +expansive, and the man who was never so happy as when discussing +impossibly wild projects with half a dozen congenial spirits often +showed a disinclination to meet his best friends. In a word, he +returned much less of a good fellow than he went away. His visits to the +Settlements were not less frequent, but much shorter; and when there he +was always in a hurry to be gone. + +During two years the brig had, in her way, as hard a life of it as the +man. Swift and trim she flitted amongst the islands of little known +groups. She could be descried afar from lonely headlands, a white +speck travelling fast over the blue sea; the apathetic keepers of rare +lighthouses dotting the great highway to the east came to know the cut +of her topsails. They saw her passing east, passing west. They had faint +glimpses of her flying with masts aslant in the mist of a rain-squall, +or could observe her at leisure, upright and with shivering sails, +forging ahead through a long day of unsteady airs. Men saw her battling +with a heavy monsoon in the Bay of Bengal, lying becalmed in the Java +Sea, or gliding out suddenly from behind a point of land, graceful and +silent in the clear moonlight. Her activity was the subject of excited +but low-toned conversations, which would be interrupted when her master +appeared. + +"Here he is. Came in last night," whispered the gossiping group. + +Lingard did not see the covert glances of respect tempered by irony; he +nodded and passed on. + +"Hey, Tom! No time for a drink?" would shout someone. + +He would shake his head without looking back--far away already. + +Florid and burly he could be seen, for a day or two, getting out of +dusty gharries, striding in sunshine from the Occidental Bank to the +Harbour Office, crossing the Esplanade, disappearing down a street of +Chinese shops, while at his elbow and as tall as himself, old Jorgenson +paced along, lean and faded, obstinate and disregarded, like a haunting +spirit from the past eager to step back into the life of men. + +Lingard ignored this wreck of an adventurer, sticking to him closer than +his shadow, and the other did not try to attract attention. He waited +patiently at the doors of offices, would vanish at tiffin time, would +invariably turn up again in the evening and then he kept his place +till Lingard went aboard for the night. The police peons on duty looked +disdainfully at the phantom of Captain H. C. Jorgenson, Barque Wild +Rose, wandering on the silent quay or standing still for hours at the +edge of the sombre roadstead speckled by the anchor lights of ships--an +adventurous soul longing to recross the waters of oblivion. + +The sampan-men, sculling lazily homeward past the black hull of the brig +at anchor, could hear far into the night the drawl of the New England +voice escaping through the lifted panes of the cabin skylight. Snatches +of nasal sentences floated in the stillness around the still craft. + +"Yes, siree! Mexican war rifles--good as new--six in a case--my people +in Baltimore--that's so. Hundred and twenty rounds thrown in for +each specimen--marked to suit your requirements. Suppose--musical +instruments, this side up with care--how's that for your taste? No, no! +Cash down--my people in Balt--Shooting sea-gulls you say? Waal! It's +a risky business--see here--ten per cent. discount--it's out of my own +pocket--" + +As time wore on, and nothing happened, at least nothing that one could +hear of, the excitement died out. Lingard's new attitude was accepted +as only "his way." There was nothing in it, maintained some. Others +dissented. A good deal of curiosity, however, remained and the faint +rumour of something big being in preparation followed him into every +harbour he went to, from Rangoon to Hongkong. + +He felt nowhere so much at home as when his brig was anchored on the +inner side of the great stretch of shoals. The centre of his life had +shifted about four hundred miles--from the Straits of Malacca to the +Shore of Refuge--and when there he felt himself within the circle of +another existence, governed by his impulse, nearer his desire. Hassim +and Immada would come down to the coast and wait for him on the islet. +He always left them with regret. + +At the end of the first stage in each trip, Jorgenson waited for him +at the top of the boat-stairs and without a word fell into step at his +elbow. They seldom exchanged three words in a day; but one evening about +six months before Lingard's last trip, as they were crossing the +short bridge over the canal where native craft lie moored in clusters, +Jorgenson lengthened his stride and came abreast. It was a moonlight +night and nothing stirred on earth but the shadows of high clouds. +Lingard took off his hat and drew in a long sigh in the tepid breeze. +Jorgenson spoke suddenly in a cautious tone: "The new Rajah Tulla +smokes opium and is sometimes dangerous to speak to. There is a lot of +discontent in Wajo amongst the big people." + +"Good! Good!" whispered Lingard, excitedly, off his guard for once. +Then--"How the devil do you know anything about it?" he asked. + +Jorgenson pointed at the mass of praus, coasting boats, and sampans +that, jammed up together in the canal, lay covered with mats and flooded +by the cold moonlight with here and there a dim lantern burning amongst +the confusion of high sterns, spars, masts and lowered sails. + +"There!" he said, as they moved on, and their hatted and clothed shadows +fell heavily on the queer-shaped vessels that carry the fortunes of +brown men upon a shallow sea. "There! I can sit with them, I can talk +to them, I can come and go as I like. They know me now--it's +time-thirty-five years. Some of them give a plate of rice and a bit of +fish to the white man. That's all I get--after thirty-five years--given +up to them." + +He was silent for a time. + +"I was like you once," he added, and then laying his hand on Lingard's +sleeve, murmured--"Are you very deep in this thing?" + +"To the very last cent," said Lingard, quietly, and looking straight +before him. + +The glitter of the roadstead went out, and the masts of anchored ships +vanished in the invading shadow of a cloud. + +"Drop it," whispered Jorgenson. + +"I am in debt," said Lingard, slowly, and stood still. + +"Drop it!" + +"Never dropped anything in my life." + +"Drop it!" + +"By God, I won't!" cried Lingard, stamping his foot. + +There was a pause. + +"I was like you--once," repeated Jorgenson. "Five and thirty +years--never dropped anything. And what you can do is only child's play +to some jobs I have had on my hands--understand that--great man as you +are, Captain Lingard of the Lightning. . . . You should have seen the +Wild Rose," he added with a sudden break in his voice. + +Lingard leaned over the guard-rail of the pier. Jorgenson came closer. + +"I set fire to her with my own hands!" he said in a vibrating tone and +very low, as if making a monstrous confession. + +"Poor devil," muttered Lingard, profoundly moved by the tragic enormity +of the act. "I suppose there was no way out?" + +"I wasn't going to let her rot to pieces in some Dutch port," said +Jorgenson, gloomily. "Did you ever hear of Dawson?" + +"Something--I don't remember now--" muttered Lingard, who felt a chill +down his back at the idea of his own vessel decaying slowly in some +Dutch port. "He died--didn't he?" he asked, absently, while he +wondered whether he would have the pluck to set fire to the brig--on an +emergency. + +"Cut his throat on the beach below Fort Rotterdam," said Jorgenson. His +gaunt figure wavered in the unsteady moonshine as though made of mist. +"Yes. He broke some trade regulation or other and talked big about +law-courts and legal trials to the lieutenant of the Komet. 'Certainly,' +says the hound. 'Jurisdiction of Macassar, I will take your schooner +there.' Then coming into the roads he tows her full tilt on a ledge of +rocks on the north side--smash! When she was half full of water he takes +his hat off to Dawson. 'There's the shore,' says he--'go and get your +legal trial, you--Englishman--'" He lifted a long arm and shook his fist +at the moon which dodged suddenly behind a cloud. "All was lost. Poor +Dawson walked the streets for months barefooted and in rags. Then one +day he begged a knife from some charitable soul, went down to take a +last look at the wreck, and--" + +"I don't interfere with the Dutch," interrupted Lingard, impatiently. "I +want Hassim to get back his own--" + +"And suppose the Dutch want the things just so," returned Jorgenson. +"Anyway there is a devil in such work--drop it!" + +"Look here," said Lingard, "I took these people off when they were in +their last ditch. That means something. I ought not to have meddled and +it would have been all over in a few hours. I must have meant something +when I interfered, whether I knew it or not. I meant it then--and did +not know it. Very well. I mean it now--and do know it. When you save +people from death you take a share in their life. That's how I look at +it." + +Jorgenson shook his head. + +"Foolishness!" he cried, then asked softly in a voice that trembled with +curiosity--"Where did you leave them?" + +"With Belarab," breathed out Lingard. "You knew him in the old days." + +"I knew him, I knew his father," burst out the other in an excited +whisper. "Whom did I not know? I knew Sentot when he was King of the +South Shore of Java and the Dutch offered a price for his head--enough +to make any man's fortune. He slept twice on board the Wild Rose when +things had begun to go wrong with him. I knew him, I knew all his +chiefs, the priests, the fighting men, the old regent who lost heart and +went over to the Dutch, I knew--" he stammered as if the words could not +come out, gave it up and sighed--"Belarab's father escaped with me," he +began again, quietly, "and joined the Padris in Sumatra. He rose to be +a great leader. Belarab was a youth then. Those were the times. I ranged +the coast--and laughed at the cruisers; I saw every battle fought in the +Battak country--and I saw the Dutch run; I was at the taking of Singal +and escaped. I was the white man who advised the chiefs of Manangkabo. +There was a lot about me in the Dutch papers at the time. They said I +was a Frenchman turned Mohammedan--" he swore a great oath, and, reeling +against the guard-rail, panted, muttering curses on newspapers. + +"Well, Belarab has the job in hand," said Lingard, composedly. "He is +the chief man on the Shore of Refuge. There are others, of course. He +has sent messages north and south. We must have men." + +"All the devils unchained," said Jorgenson. "You have done it and +now--look out--look out. . . ." + +"Nothing can go wrong as far as I can see," argued Lingard. "They all +know what's to be done. I've got them in hand. You don't think Belarab +unsafe? Do you?" + +"Haven't seen him for fifteen years--but the whole thing's unsafe," +growled Jorgenson. + +"I tell you I've fixed it so that nothing can go wrong. It would be +better if I had a white man over there to look after things generally. +There is a good lot of stores and arms--and Belarab would bear +watching--no doubt. Are you in any want?" he added, putting his hand in +his pocket. + +"No, there's plenty to eat in the house," answered Jorgenson, curtly. +"Drop it," he burst out. "It would be better for you to jump overboard +at once. Look at me. I came out a boy of eighteen. I can speak English, +I can speak Dutch, I can speak every cursed lingo of these islands--I +remember things that would make your hair stand on end--but I have +forgotten the language of my own country. I've traded, I've fought, I +never broke my word to white or native. And, look at me. If it hadn't +been for the girl I would have died in a ditch ten years ago. Everything +left me--youth, money, strength, hope--the very sleep. But she stuck by +the wreck." + +"That says a lot for her and something for you," said Lingard, cheerily. + +Jorgenson shook his head. + +"That's the worst of all," he said with slow emphasis. "That's the +end. I came to them from the other side of the earth and they took me +and--see what they made of me." + +"What place do you belong to?" asked Lingard. + +"Tromso," groaned out Jorgenson; "I will never see snow again," he +sobbed out, his face in his hands. + +Lingard looked at him in silence. + +"Would you come with me?" he said. "As I told you, I am in want of a--" + +"I would see you damned first!" broke out the other, savagely. "I am +an old white loafer, but you don't get me to meddle in their infernal +affairs. They have a devil of their own--" + +"The thing simply can't fail. I've calculated every move. I've guarded +against everything. I am no fool." + +"Yes--you are. Good-night." + +"Well, good-bye," said Lingard, calmly. + +He stepped into his boat, and Jorgenson walked up the jetty. Lingard, +clearing the yoke lines, heard him call out from a distance: + +"Drop it!" + +"I sail before sunrise," he shouted in answer, and went on board. + +When he came up from his cabin after an uneasy night, it was dark yet. A +lank figure strolled across the deck. + +"Here I am," said Jorgenson, huskily. "Die there or here--all one. But, +if I die there, remember the girl must eat." + +Lingard was one of the few who had seen Jorgenson's girl. She had a +wrinkled brown face, a lot of tangled grey hair, a few black stumps +of teeth, and had been married to him lately by an enterprising young +missionary from Bukit Timah. What her appearance might have been once +when Jorgenson gave for her three hundred dollars and several brass +guns, it was impossible to say. All that was left of her youth was a +pair of eyes, undimmed and mournful, which, when she was alone, seemed +to look stonily into the past of two lives. When Jorgenson was near +they followed his movements with anxious pertinacity. And now within the +sarong thrown over the grey head they were dropping unseen tears while +Jorgenson's girl rocked herself to and fro, squatting alone in a corner +of the dark hut. + +"Don't you worry about that," said Lingard, grasping Jorgenson's hand. +"She shall want for nothing. All I expect you to do is to look a little +after Belarab's morals when I am away. One more trip I must make, and +then we shall be ready to go ahead. I've foreseen every single thing. +Trust me!" + +In this way did the restless shade of Captain H. C. Jorgenson recross +the water of oblivion to step back into the life of men. + + + +VI + +For two years, Lingard, who had thrown himself body and soul into the +great enterprise, had lived in the long intoxication of slowly preparing +success. No thought of failure had crossed his mind, and no price +appeared too heavy to pay for such a magnificent achievement. It was +nothing less than bringing Hassim triumphantly back to that country +seen once at night under the low clouds and in the incessant tumult of +thunder. When at the conclusion of some long talk with Hassim, who for +the twentieth time perhaps had related the story of his wrongs and his +struggle, he lifted his big arm and shaking his fist above his head, +shouted: "We will stir them up. We will wake up the country!" he was, +without knowing it in the least, making a complete confession of the +idealism hidden under the simplicity of his strength. He would wake up +the country! That was the fundamental and unconscious emotion on which +were engrafted his need of action, the primitive sense of what was due +to justice, to gratitude, to friendship, the sentimental pity for the +hard lot of Immada--poor child--the proud conviction that of all the +men in the world, in his world, he alone had the means and the pluck "to +lift up the big end" of such an adventure. + +Money was wanted and men were wanted, and he had obtained enough of both +in two years from that day when, pistols in his belt and a cabbage-leaf +hat on head, he had unexpectedly, and at early dawn, confronted in +perfect silence that mysterious Belarab, who himself was for a moment +too astounded for speech at the sight of a white face. + +The sun had not yet cleared the forests of the interior, but a sky +already full of light arched over a dark oval lagoon, over wide fields +as yet full of shadows, that seemed slowly changing into the whiteness +of the morning mist. There were huts, fences, palisades, big houses +that, erected on lofty piles, were seen above the tops of clustered +fruit trees, as if suspended in the air. + +Such was the aspect of Belarab's settlement when Lingard set his eyes +on it for the first time. There were all these things, a great number +of faces at the back of the spare and muffled-up figure confronting him, +and in the swiftly increasing light a complete stillness that made the +murmur of the word "Marhaba" (welcome), pronounced at last by the chief, +perfectly audible to every one of his followers. The bodyguards who +stood about him in black skull-caps and with long-shafted lances, +preserved an impassive aspect. Across open spaces men could be seen +running to the waterside. A group of women standing on a low knoll gazed +intently, and nothing of them but the heads showed above the unstirring +stalks of a maize field. Suddenly within a cluster of empty huts near +by the voice of an invisible hag was heard scolding with shrill fury an +invisible young girl: + +"Strangers! You want to see the strangers? O devoid of all decency! +Must I so lame and old husk the rice alone? May evil befall thee and the +strangers! May they never find favour! May they be pursued with swords! +I am old. I am old. There is no good in strangers! O girl! May they +burn." + +"Welcome," repeated Belarab, gravely, and looking straight into +Lingard's eyes. + +Lingard spent six days that time in Belarab's settlement. Of these, +three were passed in observing each other without a question being asked +or a hint given as to the object in view. Lingard lounged on the fine +mats with which the chief had furnished a small bamboo house outside a +fortified enclosure, where a white flag with a green border fluttered on +a high and slender pole but still below the walls of long, high-roofed +buildings, raised forty feet or more on hard-wood posts. + +Far away the inland forests were tinted a shimmering blue, like the +forests of a dream. On the seaward side the belt of great trunks and +matted undergrowth came to the western shore of the oval lagoon; and in +the pure freshness of the air the groups of brown houses reflected in +the water or seen above the waving green of the fields, the clumps of +palm trees, the fenced-in plantations, the groves of fruit trees, made +up a picture of sumptuous prosperity. + +Above the buildings, the men, the women, the still sheet of water and +the great plain of crops glistening with dew, stretched the exalted, +the miraculous peace of a cloudless sky. And no road seemed to lead +into this country of splendour and stillness. One could not believe the +unquiet sea was so near, with its gifts and its unending menace. Even +during the months of storms, the great clamour rising from the whitened +expanse of the Shallows dwelt high in the air in a vast murmur, now +feeble now stronger, that seemed to swing back and forth on the wind +above the earth without any one being able to tell whence it came. It +was like the solemn chant of a waterfall swelling and dying away above +the woods, the fields, above the roofs of houses and the heads of men, +above the secret peace of that hidden and flourishing settlement of +vanquished fanatics, fugitives, and outcasts. + +Every afternoon Belarab, followed by an escort that stopped outside +the door, entered alone the house of his guest. He gave the salutation, +inquired after his health, conversed about insignificant things with an +inscrutable mien. But all the time the steadfast gaze of his thoughtful +eyes seemed to seek the truth within that white face. In the cool of +the evening, before the sun had set, they talked together, passing and +repassing between the rugged pillars of the grove near the gate of the +stockade. The escort away in the oblique sunlight, followed with their +eyes the strolling figures appearing and vanishing behind the trees. +Many words were pronounced, but nothing was said that would disclose +the thoughts of the two men. They clasped hands demonstratively before +separating, and the heavy slam of the gate was followed by the triple +thud of the wooden bars dropped into iron clamps. + +On the third night, Lingard was awakened from a light sleep by the sound +of whispering outside. A black shadow obscured the stars in the doorway, +and a man entering suddenly, stood above his couch while another could +be seen squatting--a dark lump on the threshold of the hut. + +"Fear not. I am Belarab," said a cautious voice. + +"I was not afraid," whispered Lingard. "It is the man coming in the dark +and without warning who is in danger." + +"And did you not come to me without warning? I said 'welcome'--it was as +easy for me to say 'kill him.'" + +"You were within reach of my arm. We would have died together," retorted +Lingard, quietly. + +The other clicked his tongue twice, and his indistinct shape seemed to +sink half-way through the floor. + +"It was not written thus before we were born," he said, sitting +cross-legged near the mats, and in a deadened voice. "Therefore you are +my guest. Let the talk between us be straight like the shaft of a spear +and shorter than the remainder of this night. What do you want?" + +"First, your long life," answered Lingard, leaning forward toward the +gleam of a pair of eyes, "and then--your help." + + + +VII + +The faint murmur of the words spoken on that night lingered for a long +time in Lingard's ears, more persistent than the memory of an uproar; he +looked with a fixed gaze at the stars burning peacefully in the square +of the doorway, while after listening in silence to all he had to say, +Belarab, as if seduced by the strength and audacity of the white man, +opened his heart without reserve. He talked of his youth surrounded by +the fury of fanaticism and war, of battles on the hills, of +advances through the forests, of men's unswerving piety, of their +unextinguishable hate. Not a single wandering cloud obscured the gentle +splendour of the rectangular patch of starlight framed in the opaque +blackness of the hut. Belarab murmured on of a succession of reverses, +of the ring of disasters narrowing round men's fading hopes and +undiminished courage. He whispered of defeat and flight, of the days +of despair, of the nights without sleep, of unending pursuit, of the +bewildered horror and sombre fury, of their women and children killed in +the stockade before the besieged sallied forth to die. + +"I have seen all this before I was in years a man," he cried, low. + +His voice vibrated. In the pause that succeeded they heard a light sigh +of the sleeping follower who, clasping his legs above his ankles, rested +his forehead on his knees. + +"And there was amongst us," began Belarab again, "one white man who +remained to the end, who was faithful with his strength, with his +courage, with his wisdom. A great man. He had great riches but a greater +heart." + +The memory of Jorgenson, emaciated and grey-haired, and trying to borrow +five dollars to get something to eat for the girl, passed before Lingard +suddenly upon the pacific glitter of the stars. + +"He resembled you," pursued Belarab, abruptly. "We escaped with him, and +in his ship came here. It was a solitude. The forest came near to the +sheet of water, the rank grass waved upon the heads of tall men. Telal, +my father, died of weariness; we were only a few, and we all nearly died +of trouble and sadness--here. On this spot! And no enemies could tell +where we had gone. It was the Shore of Refuge--and starvation." + +He droned on in the night, with rising and falling inflections. He told +how his desperate companions wanted to go out and die fighting on the +sea against the ships from the west, the ships with high sides and white +sails; and how, unflinching and alone, he kept them battling with the +thorny bush, with the rank grass, with the soaring and enormous trees. +Lingard, leaning on his elbow and staring through the door, recalled +the image of the wide fields outside, sleeping now, in an immensity of +serenity and starlight. This quiet and almost invisible talker had done +it all; in him was the origin, the creation, the fate; and in the +wonder of that thought the shadowy murmuring figure acquired a gigantic +greatness of significance, as if it had been the embodiment of some +natural force, of a force forever masterful and undying. + +"And even now my life is unsafe as if I were their enemy," said Belarab, +mournfully. "Eyes do not kill, nor angry words; and curses have no +power, else the Dutch would not grow fat living on our land, and I would +not be alive to-night. Do you understand? Have you seen the men who +fought in the old days? They have not forgotten the times of war. I have +given them homes and quiet hearts and full bellies. I alone. And they +curse my name in the dark, in each other's ears--because they can never +forget." + +This man, whose talk had been of war and violence, discovered +unexpectedly a passionate craving for security and peace. No one would +understand him. Some of those who would not understand had died. His +white teeth gleamed cruelly in the dark. But there were others he could +not kill. The fools. He wanted the land and the people in it to be +forgotten as if they had been swallowed by the sea. But they had neither +wisdom nor patience. Could they not wait? They chanted prayers five +times every day, but they had not the faith. + +"Death comes to all--and to the believers the end of trouble. But you +white men who are too strong for us, you also die. You die. And there +is a Paradise as great as all earth and all Heaven together, but not for +you--not for you!" + +Lingard, amazed, listened without a sound. The sleeper snored faintly. +Belarab continued very calm after this almost involuntary outburst of +a consoling belief. He explained that he wanted somebody at his back, +somebody strong and whom he could trust, some outside force that would +awe the unruly, that would inspire their ignorance with fear, and make +his rule secure. He groped in the dark and seizing Lingard's arm above +the elbow pressed it with force--then let go. And Lingard understood why +his temerity had been so successful. + +Then and there, in return for Lingard's open support, a few guns and a +little money, Belarab promised his help for the conquest of Wajo. There +was no doubt he could find men who would fight. He could send messages +to friends at a distance and there were also many unquiet spirits in his +own district ready for any adventure. He spoke of these men with +fierce contempt and an angry tenderness, in mingled accents of envy and +disdain. He was wearied by their folly, by their recklessness, by their +impatience--and he seemed to resent these as if they had been gifts of +which he himself had been deprived by the fatality of his wisdom. They +would fight. When the time came Lingard had only to speak, and a sign +from him would send them to a vain death--those men who could not wait +for an opportunity on this earth or for the eternal revenge of Heaven. + +He ceased, and towered upright in the gloom. + +"Awake!" he exclaimed, low, bending over the sleeping man. + +Their black shapes, passing in turn, eclipsed for two successive moments +the glitter of the stars, and Lingard, who had not stirred, remained +alone. He lay back full length with an arm thrown across his eyes. + +When three days afterward he left Belarab's settlement, it was on a calm +morning of unclouded peace. All the boats of the brig came up into the +lagoon armed and manned to make more impressive the solemn fact of a +concluded alliance. A staring crowd watched his imposing departure in +profound silence and with an increased sense of wonder at the mystery of +his apparition. The progress of the boats was smooth and slow while they +crossed the wide lagoon. Lingard looked back once. A great stillness had +laid its hand over the earth, the sky, and the men; upon the immobility +of landscape and people. Hassim and Immada, standing out clearly by +the side of the chief, raised their arms in a last salutation; and the +distant gesture appeared sad, futile, lost in space, like a sign of +distress made by castaways in the vain hope of an impossible help. + +He departed, he returned, he went away again, and each time those two +figures, lonely on some sandbank of the Shallows, made at him the same +futile sign of greeting or good-bye. Their arms at each movement seemed +to draw closer around his heart the bonds of a protecting affection. +He worked prosaically, earning money to pay the cost of the romantic +necessity that had invaded his life. And the money ran like water out of +his hands. The owner of the New England voice remitted not a little of +it to his people in Baltimore. But import houses in the ports of the +Far East had their share. It paid for a fast prau which, commanded by +Jaffir, sailed into unfrequented bays and up unexplored rivers, carrying +secret messages, important news, generous bribes. A good part of it went +to the purchase of the Emma. + +The Emma was a battered and decrepit old schooner that, in the decline +of her existence, had been much ill-used by a paunchy white trader of +cunning and gluttonous aspect. This man boasted outrageously afterward +of the good price he had got "for that rotten old hooker of mine--you +know." The Emma left port mysteriously in company with the brig and +henceforth vanished from the seas forever. Lingard had her towed up the +creek and ran her aground upon that shore of the lagoon farthest from +Belarab's settlement. There had been at that time a great rise of +waters, which retiring soon after left the old craft cradled in the mud, +with her bows grounded high between the trunks of two big trees, and +leaning over a little as though after a hard life she had settled +wearily to an everlasting rest. There, a few months later, Jorgenson +found her when, called back into the life of men, he reappeared, +together with Lingard, in the Land of Refuge. + +"She is better than a fort on shore," said Lingard, as side by side they +leant over the taffrail, looking across the lagoon on the houses and +palm groves of the settlement. "All the guns and powder I have got +together so far are stored in her. Good idea, wasn't it? There will +be, perhaps, no other such flood for years, and now they can't come +alongside unless right under the counter, and only one boat at a time. +I think you are perfectly safe here; you could keep off a whole fleet of +boats; she isn't easy to set fire to; the forest in front is better than +a wall. Well?" + +Jorgenson assented in grunts. He looked at the desolate emptiness of the +decks, at the stripped spars, at the dead body of the dismantled little +vessel that would know the life of the seas no more. The gloom of the +forest fell on her, mournful like a winding sheet. The bushes of the +bank tapped their twigs on the bluff of her bows, and a pendent spike of +tiny brown blossoms swung to and fro over the ruins of her windlass. + +Hassim's companions garrisoned the old hulk, and Jorgenson, left +in charge, prowled about from stem to stern, taciturn and anxiously +faithful to his trust. He had been received with astonishment, +respect--and awe. Belarab visited him often. Sometimes those whom he had +known in their prime years ago, during a struggle for faith and life, +would come to talk with the white man. Their voices were like the echoes +of stirring events, in the pale glamour of a youth gone by. They nodded +their old heads. Do you remember?--they said. He remembered only too +well! He was like a man raised from the dead, for whom the fascinating +trust in the power of life is tainted by the black scepticism of the +grave. + +Only at times the invincible belief in the reality of existence would +come back, insidious and inspiring. He squared his shoulders, held +himself straight, and walked with a firmer step. He felt a glow within +him and the quickened beat of his heart. Then he calculated in silent +excitement Lingard's chances of success, and he lived for a time with +the life of that other man who knew nothing of the black scepticism of +the grave. The chances were good, very good. + +"I should like to see it through," Jorgenson muttered to himself +ardently; and his lustreless eyes would flash for a moment. + + + +PART III. THE CAPTURE + +I + +"Some people," said Lingard, "go about the world with their eyes shut. +You are right. The sea is free to all of us. Some work on it, and some +play the fool on it--and I don't care. Only you may take it from me +that I will let no man's play interfere with my work. You want me to +understand you are a very great man--" + +Mr. Travers smiled, coldly. + +"Oh, yes," continued Lingard, "I understand that well enough. But +remember you are very far from home, while I, here, I am where I belong. +And I belong where I am. I am just Tom Lingard, no more, no less, +wherever I happen to be, and--you may ask--" A sweep of his hand along +the western horizon entrusted with perfect confidence the remainder of +his speech to the dumb testimony of the sea. + +He had been on board the yacht for more than an hour, and nothing, +for him, had come of it but the birth of an unreasoning hate. To the +unconscious demand of these people's presence, of their ignorance, of +their faces, of their voices, of their eyes, he had nothing to give but +a resentment that had in it a germ of reckless violence. He could tell +them nothing because he had not the means. Their coming at this moment, +when he had wandered beyond that circle which race, memories, early +associations, all the essential conditions of one's origin, trace round +every man's life, deprived him in a manner of the power of speech. He +was confounded. It was like meeting exacting spectres in a desert. + +He stared at the open sea, his arms crossed, with a reflective +fierceness. His very appearance made him utterly different from everyone +on board that vessel. The grey shirt, the blue sash, one rolled-up +sleeve baring a sculptural forearm, the negligent masterfulness of his +tone and pose were very distasteful to Mr. Travers, who, having made +up his mind to wait for some kind of official assistance, regarded +the intrusion of that inexplicable man with suspicion. From the moment +Lingard came on board the yacht, every eye in that vessel had been fixed +upon him. Only Carter, within earshot and leaning with his elbow upon +the rail, stared down at the deck as if overcome with drowsiness or lost +in thought. + +Of the three other persons aft, Mr. Travers kept his hands in the side +pockets of his jacket and did not conceal his growing disgust. + +On the other side of the deck, a lady, in a long chair, had a passive +attitude that to Mr. d'Alcacer, standing near her, seemed characteristic +of the manner in which she accepted the necessities of existence. Years +before, as an attache of his Embassy in London, he had found her an +interesting hostess. She was even more interesting now, since a chance +meeting and Mr. Travers' offer of a passage to Batavia had given him an +opportunity of studying the various shades of scorn which he suspected +to be the secret of her acquiescence in the shallowness of events and +the monotony of a worldly existence. + +There were things that from the first he had not been able to +understand; for instance, why she should have married Mr. Travers. It +must have been from ambition. He could not help feeling that such a +successful mistake would explain completely her scorn and also her +acquiescence. The meeting in Manila had been utterly unexpected to +him, and he accounted for it to his uncle, the Governor-General of the +colony, by pointing out that Englishmen, when worsted in the struggle +of love or politics, travel extensively, as if by encompassing a large +portion of earth's surface they hoped to gather fresh strength for a +renewed contest. As to himself, he judged--but did not say--that his +contest with fate was ended, though he also travelled, leaving behind +him in the capitals of Europe a story in which there was nothing +scandalous but the publicity of an excessive feeling, and nothing more +tragic than the early death of a woman whose brilliant perfections were +no better known to the great world than the discreet and passionate +devotion she had innocently inspired. + +The invitation to join the yacht was the culminating point of many +exchanged civilities, and was mainly prompted by Mr. Travers' desire +to have somebody to talk to. D'Alcacer had accepted with the reckless +indifference of a man to whom one method of flight from a relentless +enemy is as good as another. Certainly the prospect of listening to long +monologues on commerce, administration, and politics did not promise +much alleviation to his sorrow; and he could not expect much else from +Mr. Travers, whose life and thought, ignorant of human passion, were +devoted to extracting the greatest possible amount of personal advantage +from human institutions. D'Alcacer found, however, that he could attain +a measure of forgetfulness--the most precious thing for him now--in the +society of Edith Travers. + +She had awakened his curiosity, which he thought nothing and nobody on +earth could do any more. + +These two talked of things indifferent and interesting, certainly not +connected with human institutions, and only very slightly with human +passions; but d'Alcacer could not help being made aware of her latent +capacity for sympathy developed in those who are disenchanted with life +or death. How far she was disenchanted he did not know, and did +not attempt to find out. This restraint was imposed upon him by the +chivalrous respect he had for the secrets of women and by a conviction +that deep feeling is often impenetrably obscure, even to those it +masters for their inspiration or their ruin. He believed that even she +herself would never know; but his grave curiosity was satisfied by the +observation of her mental state, and he was not sorry that the stranding +of the yacht prolonged his opportunity. + +Time passed on that mudbank as well as anywhere else, and it was not +from a multiplicity of events, but from the lapse of time alone, that +he expected relief. Yet in the sameness of days upon the Shallows, time +flowing ceaselessly, flowed imperceptibly; and, since every man clings +to his own, be it joy, be it grief, he was pleased after the unrest +of his wanderings to be able to fancy the whole universe and even time +itself apparently come to a standstill; as if unwilling to take him away +further from his sorrow, which was fading indeed but undiminished, as +things fade, not in the distance but in the mist. + + +II + +D'Alcacer was a man of nearly forty, lean and sallow, with hollow eyes +and a drooping brown moustache. His gaze was penetrating and direct, his +smile frequent and fleeting. He observed Lingard with great interest. +He was attracted by that elusive something--a line, a fold, perhaps +the form of the eye, the droop of an eyelid, the curve of a cheek, that +trifling trait which on no two faces on earth is alike, that in each +face is the very foundation of expression, as if, all the rest being +heredity, mystery, or accident, it alone had been shaped consciously by +the soul within. + +Now and then he bent slightly over the slow beat of a red fan in the +curve of the deck chair to say a few words to Mrs. Travers, who answered +him without looking up, without a modulation of tone or a play of +feature, as if she had spoken from behind the veil of an immense +indifference stretched between her and all men, between her heart and +the meaning of events, between her eyes and the shallow sea which, like +her gaze, appeared profound, forever stilled, and seemed, far off in the +distance of a faint horizon, beyond the reach of eye, beyond the power +of hand or voice, to lose itself in the sky. + +Mr. Travers stepped aside, and speaking to Carter, overwhelmed him with +reproaches. + +"You misunderstood your instructions," murmured Mr. Travers rapidly. +"Why did you bring this man here? I am surprised--" + +"Not half so much as I was last night," growled the young seaman, +without any reverence in his tone, very provoking to Mr. Travers. + +"I perceive now you were totally unfit for the mission I entrusted you +with," went on the owner of the yacht. + +"It's he who got hold of me," said Carter. "Haven't you heard him +yourself, sir?" + +"Nonsense," whispered Mr. Travers, angrily. "Have you any idea what his +intentions may be?" + +"I half believe," answered Carter, "that his intention was to shoot me +in his cabin last night if I--" + +"That's not the point," interrupted Mr. Travers. "Have you any opinion +as to his motives in coming here?" + +Carter raised his weary, bloodshot eyes in a face scarlet and peeling as +though it had been licked by a flame. "I know no more than you do, sir. +Last night when he had me in that cabin of his, he said he would just as +soon shoot me as let me go to look for any other help. It looks as if +he were desperately bent upon getting a lot of salvage money out of a +stranded yacht." + +Mr. Travers turned away, and, for a moment, appeared immersed in deep +thought. This accident of stranding upon a deserted coast was annoying +as a loss of time. He tried to minimize it by putting in order the notes +collected during the year's travel in the East. He had sent off for +assistance; his sailing-master, very crestfallen, made bold to say that +the yacht would most likely float at the next spring tides; d'Alcacer, +a person of undoubted nobility though of inferior principles, was better +than no company, in so far at least that he could play picquet. + +Mr. Travers had made up his mind to wait. Then suddenly this rough +man, looking as if he had stepped out from an engraving in a book about +buccaneers, broke in upon his resignation with mysterious allusions to +danger, which sounded absurd yet were disturbing; with dark and warning +sentences that sounded like disguised menaces. + +Mr. Travers had a heavy and rather long chin which he shaved. His eyes +were blue, a chill, naive blue. He faced Lingard untouched by travel, +without a mark of weariness or exposure, with the air of having been +born invulnerable. He had a full, pale face; and his complexion was +perfectly colourless, yet amazingly fresh, as if he had been reared in +the shade. + +He thought: + +"I must put an end to this preposterous hectoring. I won't be +intimidated into paying for services I don't need." + +Mr. Travers felt a strong disgust for the impudence of the attempt; and +all at once, incredibly, strangely, as though the thing, like a contest +with a rival or a friend, had been of profound importance to his career, +he felt inexplicably elated at the thought of defeating the secret +purposes of that man. + +Lingard, unconscious of everything and everybody, contemplated the sea. +He had grown on it, he had lived with it; it had enticed him away from +home; on it his thoughts had expanded and his hand had found work to do. +It had suggested endeavour, it had made him owner and commander of the +finest brig afloat; it had lulled him into a belief in himself, in +his strength, in his luck--and suddenly, by its complicity in a fatal +accident, it had brought him face to face with a difficulty that looked +like the beginning of disaster. + +He had said all he dared to say--and he perceived that he was not +believed. This had not happened to him for years. It had never happened. +It bewildered him as if he had suddenly discovered that he was no longer +himself. He had come to them and had said: "I mean well by you. I am +Tom Lingard--" and they did not believe! Before such scepticism he was +helpless, because he had never imagined it possible. He had said: "You +are in the way of my work. You are in the way of what I can not give up +for any one; but I will see you through all safe if you will only +trust me--me, Tom Lingard." And they would not believe him! It was +intolerable. He imagined himself sweeping their disbelief out of his +way. And why not? He did not know them, he did not care for them, he +did not even need to lift his hand against them! All he had to do was to +shut his eyes now for a day or two, and afterward he could forget that +he had ever seen them. It would be easy. Let their disbelief vanish, +their folly disappear, their bodies perish. . . . It was that--or ruin! + + + +III + +Lingard's gaze, detaching itself from the silent sea, travelled slowly +over the silent figures clustering forward, over the faces of the seamen +attentive and surprised, over the faces never seen before yet suggesting +old days--his youth--other seas--the distant shores of early memories. +Mr. Travers gave a start also, and the hand which had been busy with +his left whisker went into the pocket of his jacket, as though he +had plucked out something worth keeping. He made a quick step toward +Lingard. + +"I don't see my way to utilize your services," he said, with cold +finality. + +Lingard, grasping his beard, looked down at him thoughtfully for a short +time. + +"Perhaps it's just as well," he said, very slowly, "because I did not +offer my services. I've offered to take you on board my brig for a +few days, as your only chance of safety. And you asked me what were +my motives. My motives! If you don't see them they are not for you to +know." + +And these men who, two hours before had never seen each other, stood +for a moment close together, antagonistic, as if they had been life-long +enemies, one short, dapper and glaring upward, the other towering +heavily, and looking down in contempt and anger. + +Mr. d'Alcacer, without taking his eyes off them, bent low over the deck +chair. + +"Have you ever seen a man dashing himself at a stone wall?" he asked, +confidentially. + +"No," said Mrs. Travers, gazing straight before her above the slow +flutter of the fan. "No, I did not know it was ever done; men burrow +under or slip round quietly while they look the other way." + +"Ah! you define diplomacy," murmured d'Alcacer. "A little of it here +would do no harm. But our picturesque visitor has none of it. I've a +great liking for him." + +"Already!" breathed out Mrs. Travers, with a smile that touched her lips +with its bright wing and was flown almost before it could be seen. + +"There is liking at first sight," affirmed d'Alcacer, "as well as love +at first sight--the coup de foudre--you know." + +She looked up for a moment, and he went on, gravely: "I think it is the +truest, the most profound of sentiments. You do not love because of what +is in the other. You love because of something that is in you--something +alive--in yourself." He struck his breast lightly with the tip of one +finger. "A capacity in you. And not everyone may have it--not everyone +deserves to be touched by fire from heaven." + +"And die," she said. + +He made a slight movement. + +"Who can tell? That is as it may be. But it is always a privilege, even +if one must live a little after being burnt." + +Through the silence between them, Mr. Travers' voice came plainly, +saying with irritation: + +"I've told you already that I do not want you. I've sent a messenger to +the governor of the Straits. Don't be importunate." + +Then Lingard, standing with his back to them, growled out something +which must have exasperated Mr. Travers, because his voice was pitched +higher: + +"You are playing a dangerous game, I warn you. Sir John, as it happens, +is a personal friend of mine. He will send a cruiser--" and Lingard +interrupted recklessly loud: + +"As long as she does not get here for the next ten days, I don't care. +Cruisers are scarce just now in the Straits; and to turn my back on you +is no hanging matter anyhow. I would risk that, and more! Do you hear? +And more!" + +He stamped his foot heavily, Mr. Travers stepped back. + +"You will gain nothing by trying to frighten me," he said. "I don't know +who you are." + +Every eye in the yacht was wide open. The men, crowded upon each +other, stared stupidly like a flock of sheep. Mr. Travers pulled out +a handkerchief and passed it over his forehead. The face of the +sailing-master who leaned against the main mast--as near as he dared +to approach the gentry--was shining and crimson between white whiskers, +like a glowing coal between two patches of snow. + +D'Alcacer whispered: + +"It is a quarrel, and the picturesque man is angry. He is hurt." + +Mrs. Travers' fan rested on her knees, and she sat still as if waiting +to hear more. + +"Do you think I ought to make an effort for peace?" asked d'Alcacer. + +She did not answer, and after waiting a little, he insisted: + +"What is your opinion? Shall I try to mediate--as a neutral, as a +benevolent neutral? I like that man with the beard." + +The interchange of angry phrases went on aloud, amidst general +consternation. + +"I would turn my back on you only I am thinking of these poor devils +here," growled Lingard, furiously. "Did you ask them how they feel about +it?" + +"I ask no one," spluttered Mr. Travers. "Everybody here depends on my +judgment." + +"I am sorry for them then," pronounced Lingard with sudden deliberation, +and leaning forward with his arms crossed on his breast. + +At this Mr. Travers positively jumped, and forgot himself so far as to +shout: + +"You are an impudent fellow. I have nothing more to say to you." + +D'Alcacer, after muttering to himself, "This is getting serious," made a +movement, and could not believe his ears when he heard Mrs. Travers say +rapidly with a kind of fervour: + +"Don't go, pray; don't stop them. Oh! This is truth--this is +anger--something real at last." + +D'Alcacer leaned back at once against the rail. + +Then Mr. Travers, with one arm extended, repeated very loudly: + +"Nothing more to say. Leave my ship at once!" + +And directly the black dog, stretched at his wife's feet, muzzle on +paws and blinking yellow eyes, growled discontentedly at the noise. Mrs. +Travers laughed a faint, bright laugh, that seemed to escape, to glide, +to dart between her white teeth. D'Alcacer, concealing his amazement, +was looking down at her gravely: and after a slight gasp, she said with +little bursts of merriment between every few words: + +"No, but this is--such--such a fresh experience for me to hear--to see +something--genuine and human. Ah! ah! one would think they had waited +all their lives for this opportunity--ah! ah! ah! All their lives--for +this! ah! ah! ah!" + +These strange words struck d'Alcacer as perfectly just, as throwing an +unexpected light. But after a smile, he said, seriously: + +"This reality may go too far. A man who looks so picturesque is capable +of anything. Allow me--" And he left her side, moving toward Lingard, +loose-limbed and gaunt, yet having in his whole bearing, in his walk, in +every leisurely movement, an air of distinction and ceremony. + +Lingard spun round with aggressive mien to the light touch on his +shoulder, but as soon as he took his eyes off Mr. Travers, his anger +fell, seemed to sink without a sound at his feet like a rejected +garment. + +"Pardon me," said d'Alcacer, composedly. The slight wave of his hand was +hardly more than an indication, the beginning of a conciliating gesture. +"Pardon me; but this is a matter requiring perfect confidence on both +sides. Don Martin, here, who is a person of importance. . . ." + +"I've spoken my mind plainly. I have said as much as I dare. On my word +I have," declared Lingard with an air of good temper. + +"Ah!" said d'Alcacer, reflectively, "then your reserve is a matter of +pledged faith--of--of honour?" + +Lingard also appeared thoughtful for a moment. + +"You may put it that way. And I owe nothing to a man who couldn't see my +hand when I put it out to him as I came aboard." + +"You have so much the advantage of us here," replied d'Alcacer, "that +you may well be generous and forget that oversight; and then just a +little more confidence. . . ." + +"My dear d'Alcacer, you are absurd," broke in Mr. Travers, in a calm +voice but with white lips. "I did not come out all this way to shake +hands promiscuously and receive confidences from the first adventurer +that comes along." + +D'Alcacer stepped back with an almost imperceptible inclination of the +head at Lingard, who stood for a moment with twitching face. + +"I _am_ an adventurer," he burst out, "and if I hadn't been an +adventurer, I would have had to starve or work at home for such people +as you. If I weren't an adventurer, you would be most likely lying dead +on this deck with your cut throat gaping at the sky." + +Mr. Travers waved this speech away. But others also had heard. Carter +listened watchfully and something, some alarming notion seemed to dawn +all at once upon the thick little sailing-master, who rushed on his +short legs, and tugging at Carter's sleeve, stammered desperately: + +"What's he saying? Who's he? What's up? Are the natives unfriendly? My +book says--'Natives friendly all along this coast!' My book says--" + +Carter, who had glanced over the side, jerked his arm free. + +"You go down into the pantry, where you belong, Skipper, and read that +bit about the natives over again," he said to his superior officer, with +savage contempt. "I'll be hanged if some of them ain't coming aboard now +to eat you--book and all. Get out of the way, and let the gentlemen have +the first chance of a row." + +Then addressing Lingard, he drawled in his old way: + +"That crazy mate of yours has sent your boat back, with a couple of +visitors in her, too." + +Before he apprehended plainly the meaning of these words, Lingard caught +sight of two heads rising above the rail, the head of Hassim and the +head of Immada. Then their bodies ascended into view as though these two +beings had gradually emerged from the Shallows. They stood for a moment +on the platform looking down on the deck as if about to step into the +unknown, then descended and walking aft entered the half-light under the +awning shading the luxurious surroundings, the complicated emotions of +the, to them, inconceivable existences. + +Lingard without waiting a moment cried: + +"What news, O Rajah?" + +Hassim's eyes made the round of the schooner's decks. He had left his +gun in the boat and advanced empty handed, with a tranquil assurance as +if bearing a welcome offering in the faint smile of his lips. Immada, +half hidden behind his shoulder, followed lightly, her elbows pressed +close to her side. The thick fringe of her eyelashes was dropped like +a veil; she looked youthful and brooding; she had an aspect of shy +resolution. + +They stopped within arm's length of the whites, and for some time nobody +said a word. Then Hassim gave Lingard a significant glance, and uttered +rapidly with a slight toss of the head that indicated in a manner the +whole of the yacht: + +"I see no guns!" + +"N--no!" said Lingard, looking suddenly confused. It had occurred to him +that for the first time in two years or more he had forgotten, utterly +forgotten, these people's existence. + +Immada stood slight and rigid with downcast eyes. Hassim, at his ease, +scrutinized the faces, as if searching for elusive points of similitude +or for subtle shades of difference. + +"What is this new intrusion?" asked Mr. Travers, angrily. + +"These are the fisher-folk, sir," broke in the sailing-master, "we've +observed these three days past flitting about in a canoe; but they +never had the sense to answer our hail; and yet a bit of fish for +your breakfast--" He smiled obsequiously, and all at once, without +provocation, began to bellow: + +"Hey! Johnnie! Hab got fish? Fish! One peecee fish! Eh? Savee? Fish! +Fish--" He gave it up suddenly to say in a deferential tone--"Can't +make them savages understand anything, sir," and withdrew as if after a +clever feat. + +Hassim looked at Lingard. + +"Why did the little white man make that outcry?" he asked, anxiously. + +"Their desire is to eat fish," said Lingard in an enraged tone. + +Then before the air of extreme surprise which incontinently appeared on +the other's face, he could not restrain a short and hopeless laugh. + +"Eat fish," repeated Hassim, staring. "O you white people! O you white +people! Eat fish! Good! But why make that noise? And why did you send +them here without guns?" After a significant glance down upon the slope +of the deck caused by the vessel being on the ground, he added with a +slight nod at Lingard--"And without knowledge?" + +"You should not have come here, O Hassim," said Lingard, testily. "Here +no one understands. They take a rajah for a fisherman--" + +"Ya-wa! A great mistake, for, truly, the chief of ten fugitives without +a country is much less than the headman of a fishing village," observed +Hassim, composedly. Immada sighed. "But you, Tuan, at least know the +truth," he went on with quiet irony; then after a pause--"We came here +because you had forgotten to look toward us, who had waited, sleeping +little at night, and in the day watching with hot eyes the empty water +at the foot of the sky for you." + +Immada murmured, without lifting her head: + +"You never looked for us. Never, never once." + +"There was too much trouble in my eyes," explained Lingard with that +patient gentleness of tone and face which, every time he spoke to the +young girl, seemed to disengage itself from his whole person, enveloping +his fierceness, softening his aspect, such as the dreamy mist that in +the early radiance of the morning weaves a veil of tender charm about a +rugged rock in mid-ocean. "I must look now to the right and to the +left as in a time of sudden danger," he added after a moment and she +whispered an appalled "Why?" so low that its pain floated away in the +silence of attentive men, without response, unheard, ignored, like the +pain of an impalpable thought. + + + +IV + +D'Alcacer, standing back, surveyed them all with a profound and alert +attention. Lingard seemed unable to tear himself away from the yacht, +and remained, checked, as it were in the act of going, like a man who +has stopped to think out the last thing to say; and that stillness of a +body, forgotten by the labouring mind, reminded Carter of that moment +in the cabin, when alone he had seen this man thus wrestling with his +thought, motionless and locked in the grip of his conscience. + +Mr. Travers muttered audibly through his teeth: + +"How long is this performance going to last? I have desired you to go." + +"Think of these poor devils," whispered Lingard, with a quick glance at +the crew huddled up near by. + +"You are the kind of man I would be least disposed to trust--in any +case," said Mr. Travers, incisively, very low, and with an inexplicable +but very apparent satisfaction. "You are only wasting your time here." + +"You--You--" He stammered and stared. He chewed with growls some +insulting word and at last swallowed it with an effort. "My time pays +for your life," he said. + +He became aware of a sudden stir, and saw that Mrs. Travers had risen +from her chair. + +She walked impulsively toward the group on the quarter-deck, making +straight for Immada. Hassim had stepped aside and his detached gaze of a +Malay gentleman passed by her as if she had been invisible. + +She was tall, supple, moving freely. Her complexion was so dazzling +in the shade that it seemed to throw out a halo round her head. Upon +a smooth and wide brow an abundance of pale fair hair, fine as silk, +undulating like the sea, heavy like a helmet, descended low without a +trace of gloss, without a gleam in its coils, as though it had never +been touched by a ray of light; and a throat white, smooth, palpitating +with life, a round neck modelled with strength and delicacy, supported +gloriously that radiant face and that pale mass of hair unkissed by +sunshine. + +She said with animation: + +"Why, it's a girl!" + +Mrs. Travers extorted from d'Alcacer a fresh tribute of curiosity. A +strong puff of wind fluttered the awnings and one of the screens blowing +out wide let in upon the quarter-deck the rippling glitter of the +Shallows, showing to d'Alcacer the luminous vastness of the sea, with +the line of the distant horizon, dark like the edge of the encompassing +night, drawn at the height of Mrs. Travers' shoulder. . . . Where was +it he had seen her last--a long time before, on the other side of the +world? There was also the glitter of splendour around her then, and an +impression of luminous vastness. The encompassing night, too, was there, +the night that waits for its time to move forward upon the glitter, the +splendour, the men, the women. + +He could not remember for the moment, but he became convinced that of +all the women he knew, she alone seemed to be made for action. Every one +of her movements had firmness, ease, the meaning of a vital fact, +the moral beauty of a fearless expression. Her supple figure was not +dishonoured by any faltering of outlines under the plain dress of dark +blue stuff moulding her form with bold simplicity. + +She had only very few steps to make, but before she had stopped, +confronting Immada, d'Alcacer remembered her suddenly as he had seen +her last, out West, far away, impossibly different, as if in another +universe, as if presented by the fantasy of a fevered memory. He saw +her in a luminous perspective of palatial drawing rooms, in the restless +eddy and flow of a human sea, at the foot of walls high as cliffs, under +lofty ceilings that like a tropical sky flung light and heat upon the +shallow glitter of uniforms, of stars, of diamonds, of eyes sparkling +in the weary or impassive faces of the throng at an official reception. +Outside he had found the unavoidable darkness with its aspect of patient +waiting, a cloudy sky holding back the dawn of a London morning. It was +difficult to believe. + +Lingard, who had been looking dangerously fierce, slapped his thigh and +showed signs of agitation. + +"By heavens, I had forgotten all about you!" he pronounced in dismay. + +Mrs. Travers fixed her eyes on Immada. Fairhaired and white she asserted +herself before the girl of olive face and raven locks with the maturity +of perfection, with the superiority of the flower over the leaf, of the +phrase that contains a thought over the cry that can only express an +emotion. Immense spaces and countless centuries stretched between +them: and she looked at her as when one looks into one's own heart +with absorbed curiosity, with still wonder, with an immense compassion. +Lingard murmured, warningly: + +"Don't touch her." + +Mrs. Travers looked at him. + +"Do you think I could hurt her?" she asked, softly, and was so startled +to hear him mutter a gloomy "Perhaps," that she hesitated before she +smiled. + +"Almost a child! And so pretty! What a delicate face," she said, while +another deep sigh of the sea breeze lifted and let fall the screens, so +that the sound, the wind, and the glitter seemed to rush in together and +bear her words away into space. "I had no idea of anything so charmingly +gentle," she went on in a voice that without effort glowed, caressed, +and had a magic power of delight to the soul. "So young! And she lives +here--does she? On the sea--or where? Lives--" Then faintly, as if she +had been in the act of speaking, removed instantly to a great distance, +she was heard again: "How does she live?" + +Lingard had hardly seen Edith Travers till then. He had seen no one +really but Mr. Travers. He looked and listened with something of the +stupor of a new sensation. + +Then he made a distinct effort to collect his thoughts and said with a +remnant of anger: + +"What have you got to do with her? She knows war. Do you know anything +about it? And hunger, too, and thirst, and unhappiness; things you have +only heard about. She has been as near death as I am to you--and what is +all that to any of you here?" + +"That child!" she said in slow wonder. + +Immada turned upon Mrs. Travers her eyes black as coal, sparkling and +soft like a tropical night; and the glances of the two women, their +dissimilar and inquiring glances met, seemed to touch, clasp, hold each +other with the grip of an intimate contact. They separated. + +"What are they come for? Why did you show them the way to this place?" +asked Immada, faintly. + +Lingard shook his head in denial. + +"Poor girl," said Mrs. Travers. "Are they all so pretty?" + +"Who-all?" mumbled Lingard. "There isn't an other one like her if you +were to ransack the islands all round the compass." + +"Edith!" ejaculated Mr. Travers in a remonstrating, acrimonious voice, +and everyone gave him a look of vague surprise. + +Then Mrs. Travers asked: + +"Who is she?" + +Lingard very red and grave declared curtly: + +"A princess." + +Immediately he looked round with suspicion. No one smiled. D'Alcacer, +courteous and nonchalant, lounged up close to Mrs. Travers' elbow. + +"If she is a princess, then this man is a knight," he murmured with +conviction. "A knight as I live! A descendant of the immortal hidalgo +errant upon the sea. It would be good for us to have him for a friend. +Seriously I think that you ought--" + +The two stepped aside and spoke low and hurriedly. + +"Yes, you ought--" + +"How can I?" she interrupted, catching the meaning like a ball. + +"By saying something." + +"Is it really necessary?" she asked, doubtfully. + +"It would do no harm," said d'Alcacer with sudden carelessness; "a +friend is always better than an enemy." + +"Always?" she repeated, meaningly. "But what could I say?" + +"Some words," he answered; "I should think any words in your voice--" + +"Mr. d'Alcacer!" + +"Or you could perhaps look at him once or twice as though he were not +exactly a robber," he continued. + +"Mr. d'Alcacer, are you afraid?" + +"Extremely," he said, stooping to pick up the fan at her feet. "That is +the reason I am so anxious to conciliate. And you must not forget that +one of your queens once stepped on the cloak of perhaps such a man." + +Her eyes sparkled and she dropped them suddenly. + +"I am not a queen," she said, coldly. + +"Unfortunately not," he admitted; "but then the other was a woman with +no charm but her crown." + +At that moment Lingard, to whom Hassim had been talking earnestly, +protested aloud: + +"I never saw these people before." + +Immada caught hold of her brother's arm. Mr. Travers said harshly: + +"Oblige me by taking these natives away." + +"Never before," murmured Immada as if lost in ecstasy. D'Alcacer glanced +at Mrs. Travers and made a step forward. + +"Could not the difficulty, whatever it is, be arranged, Captain?" he +said with careful politeness. "Observe that we are not only men here--" + +"Let them die!" cried Immada, triumphantly. + +Though Lingard alone understood the meaning of these words, all on board +felt oppressed by the uneasy silence which followed her cry. + +"Ah! He is going. Now, Mrs. Travers," whispered d'Alcacer. + +"I hope!" said Mrs. Travers, impulsively, and stopped as if alarmed at +the sound. + +Lingard stood still. + +"I hope," she began again, "that this poor girl will know happier +days--" She hesitated. + +Lingard waited, attentive and serious. + +"Under your care," she finished. "And I believe you meant to be friendly +to us." + +"Thank you," said Lingard with dignity. + +"You and d'Alcacer," observed Mr. Travers, austerely, "are unnecessarily +detaining this--ah--person, and--ah--friends--ah!" + +"I had forgotten you--and now--what? One must--it is hard--hard--" went +on Lingard, disconnectedly, while he looked into Mrs. Travers' +violet eyes, and felt his mind overpowered and troubled as if by the +contemplation of vast distances. "I--you don't know--I--you--cannot +. . . Ha! It's all that man's doing," he burst out. + +For a time, as if beside himself, he glared at Mrs. Travers, then flung +up one arm and strode off toward the gangway, where Hassim and Immada +waited for him, interested and patient. With a single word "Come," he +preceded them down into the boat. Not a sound was heard on the yacht's +deck, while these three disappeared one after another below the rail as +if they had descended into the sea. + + + +V + +The afternoon dragged itself out in silence. Mrs. Travers sat pensive +and idle with her fan on her knees. D'Alcacer, who thought the incident +should have been treated in a conciliatory spirit, attempted to +communicate his view to his host, but that gentleman, purposely +misunderstanding his motive, overwhelmed him with so many apologies +and expressions of regret at the irksome and perhaps inconvenient delay +"which you suffer from through your good-natured acceptance of our +invitation" that the other was obliged to refrain from pursuing the +subject further. + +"Even my regard for you, my dear d'Alcacer, could not induce me to +submit to such a bare-faced attempt at extortion," affirmed Mr. Travers +with uncompromising virtue. "The man wanted to force his services +upon me, and then put in a heavy claim for salvage. That is the whole +secret--you may depend on it. I detected him at once, of course." The +eye-glass glittered perspicuously. "He underrated my intelligence; and +what a violent scoundrel! The existence of such a man in the time we +live in is a scandal." + +D'Alcacer retired, and, full of vague forebodings, tried in vain for +hours to interest himself in a book. Mr. Travers walked up and down +restlessly, trying to persuade himself that his indignation was based +on purely moral grounds. The glaring day, like a mass of white-hot iron +withdrawn from the fire, was losing gradually its heat and its glare +in a richer deepening of tone. At the usual time two seamen, walking +noiselessly aft in their yachting shoes, rolled up in silence the +quarter-deck screens; and the coast, the shallows, the dark islets and +the snowy sandbanks uncovered thus day after day were seen once more +in their aspect of dumb watchfulness. The brig, swung end on in the +foreground, her squared yards crossing heavily the soaring symmetry of +the rigging, resembled a creature instinct with life, with the power of +springing into action lurking in the light grace of its repose. + +A pair of stewards in white jackets with brass buttons appeared on deck +and began to flit about without a sound, laying the table for dinner on +the flat top of the cabin skylight. The sun, drifting away toward +other lands, toward other seas, toward other men; the sun, all red in a +cloudless sky raked the yacht with a parting salvo of crimson rays that +shattered themselves into sparks of fire upon the crystal and silver +of the dinner-service, put a short flame into the blades of knives, and +spread a rosy tint over the white of plates. A trail of purple, like a +smear of blood on a blue shield, lay over the sea. + +On sitting down Mr. Travers alluded in a vexed tone to the necessity of +living on preserves, all the stock of fresh provisions for the passage +to Batavia having been already consumed. It was distinctly unpleasant. + +"I don't travel for my pleasure, however," he added; "and the belief +that the sacrifice of my time and comfort will be productive of some +good to the world at large would make up for any amount of privations." + +Mrs. Travers and d'Alcacer seemed unable to shake off a strong aversion +to talk, and the conversation, like an expiring breeze, kept on dying +out repeatedly after each languid gust. The large silence of the +horizon, the profound repose of all things visible, enveloping the +bodies and penetrating the souls with their quieting influence, stilled +thought as well as voice. For a long time no one spoke. Behind the +taciturnity of the masters the servants hovered without noise. + +Suddenly, Mr. Travers, as if concluding a train of thought, muttered +aloud: + +"I own with regret I did in a measure lose my temper; but then you will +admit that the existence of such a man is a disgrace to civilization." + +This remark was not taken up and he returned for a time to the nursing +of his indignation, at the bottom of which, like a monster in a fog, +crept a bizarre feeling of rancour. He waved away an offered dish. + +"This coast," he began again, "has been placed under the sole protection +of Holland by the Treaty of 1820. The Treaty of 1820 creates special +rights and obligations. . . ." + +Both his hearers felt vividly the urgent necessity to hear no more. +D'Alcacer, uncomfortable on a campstool, sat stiff and stared at the +glass stopper of a carafe. Mrs. Travers turned a little sideways and +leaning on her elbow rested her head on the palm of her hand like one +thinking about matters of profound import. Mr. Travers talked; he talked +inflexibly, in a harsh blank voice, as if reading a proclamation. +The other two, as if in a state of incomplete trance, had their ears +assailed by fragments of official verbiage. + +"An international understanding--the duty to civilize--failed to carry +out--compact--Canning--" D'Alcacer became attentive for a moment. +"--not that this attempt, almost amusing in its impudence, influences my +opinion. I won't admit the possibility of any violence being offered to +people of our position. It is the social aspect of such an incident I am +desirous of criticising." + +Here d'Alcacer lost himself again in the recollection of Mrs. Travers +and Immada looking at each other--the beginning and the end, the +flower and the leaf, the phrase and the cry. Mr. Travers' voice went +on dogmatic and obstinate for a long time. The end came with a certain +vehemence. + +"And if the inferior race must perish, it is a gain, a step toward the +perfecting of society which is the aim of progress." + +He ceased. The sparks of sunset in crystal and silver had gone out, +and around the yacht the expanse of coast and Shallows seemed to await, +unmoved, the coming of utter darkness. The dinner was over a long time +ago and the patient stewards had been waiting, stoical in the downpour +of words like sentries under a shower. + +Mrs. Travers rose nervously and going aft began to gaze at the coast. +Behind her the sun, sunk already, seemed to force through the mass of +waters the glow of an unextinguishable fire, and below her feet, on each +side of the yacht, the lustrous sea, as if reflecting the colour of her +eyes, was tinged a sombre violet hue. + +D'Alcacer came up to her with quiet footsteps and for some time they +leaned side by side over the rail in silence. Then he said--"How quiet +it is!" and she seemed to perceive that the quietness of that evening +was more profound and more significant than ever before. Almost without +knowing it she murmured--"It's like a dream." Another long silence +ensued; the tranquillity of the universe had such an August ampleness +that the sounds remained on the lips as if checked by the fear of +profanation. The sky was limpid like a diamond, and under the last +gleams of sunset the night was spreading its veil over the earth. There +was something precious and soothing in the beautifully serene end of +that expiring day, of the day vibrating, glittering and ardent, and +dying now in infinite peace, without a stir, without a tremor, without a +sigh--in the certitude of resurrection. + +Then all at once the shadow deepened swiftly, the stars came out in a +crowd, scattering a rain of pale sparks upon the blackness of the water, +while the coast stretched low down, a dark belt without a gleam. Above +it the top-hamper of the brig loomed indistinct and high. + +Mrs. Travers spoke first. + +"How unnaturally quiet! It is like a desert of land and water without a +living soul." + +"One man at least dwells in it," said d'Alcacer, lightly, "and if he is +to be believed there are other men, full of evil intentions." + +"Do you think it is true?" Mrs. Travers asked. + +Before answering d'Alcacer tried to see the expression of her face but +the obscurity was too profound already. + +"How can one see a dark truth on such a dark night?" he said, evasively. +"But it is easy to believe in evil, here or anywhere else." + +She seemed to be lost in thought for a while. + +"And that man himself?" she asked. + +After some time d'Alcacer began to speak slowly. "Rough, uncommon, +decidedly uncommon of his kind. Not at all what Don Martin thinks him to +be. For the rest--mysterious to me. He is _your_ countryman after all--" + +She seemed quite surprised by that view. + +"Yes," she said, slowly. "But you know, I can not--what shall I +say?--imagine him at all. He has nothing in common with the mankind I +know. There is nothing to begin upon. How does such a man live? What are +his thoughts? His actions? His affections? His--" + +"His conventions," suggested d'Alcacer. "That would include everything." + +Mr. Travers appeared suddenly behind them with a glowing cigar in +his teeth. He took it between his fingers to declare with persistent +acrimony that no amount of "scoundrelly intimidation" would prevent him +from having his usual walk. There was about three hundred yards to the +southward of the yacht a sandbank nearly a mile long, gleaming a silvery +white in the darkness, plumetted in the centre with a thicket of dry +bushes that rustled very loud in the slightest stir of the heavy night +air. The day after the stranding they had landed on it "to stretch their +legs a bit," as the sailing-master defined it, and every evening since, +as if exercising a privilege or performing a duty, the three paced there +for an hour backward and forward lost in dusky immensity, threading at +the edge of water the belt of damp sand, smooth, level, elastic to the +touch like living flesh and sweating a little under the pressure of +their feet. + +This time d'Alcacer alone followed Mr. Travers. Mrs. Travers heard them +get into the yacht's smallest boat, and the night-watchman, tugging at +a pair of sculls, pulled them off to the nearest point. Then the man +returned. He came up the ladder and she heard him say to someone on +deck: + +"Orders to go back in an hour." + +His footsteps died out forward, and a somnolent, unbreathing repose took +possession of the stranded yacht. + + + +VI + +After a time this absolute silence which she almost could feel pressing +upon her on all sides induced in Mrs. Travers a state of hallucination. +She saw herself standing alone, at the end of time, on the brink of +days. All was unmoving as if the dawn would never come, the stars would +never fade, the sun would never rise any more; all was mute, still, +dead--as if the shadow of the outer darkness, the shadow of the +uninterrupted, of the everlasting night that fills the universe, the +shadow of the night so profound and so vast that the blazing suns lost +in it are only like sparks, like pin-points of fire, the restless shadow +that like a suspicion of an evil truth darkens everything upon the earth +on its passage, had enveloped her, had stood arrested as if to remain +with her forever. + +And there was such a finality in that illusion, such an accord with the +trend of her thought that when she murmured into the darkness a faint +"so be it" she seemed to have spoken one of those sentences that resume +and close a life. + +As a young girl, often reproved for her romantic ideas, she had +dreams where the sincerity of a great passion appeared like the ideal +fulfilment and the only truth of life. Entering the world she discovered +that ideal to be unattainable because the world is too prudent to +be sincere. Then she hoped that she could find the truth of life an +ambition which she understood as a lifelong devotion to some unselfish +ideal. Mr. Travers' name was on men's lips; he seemed capable of +enthusiasm and of devotion; he impressed her imagination by his +impenetrability. She married him, found him enthusiastically devoted to +the nursing of his own career, and had nothing to hope for now. + +That her husband should be bewildered by the curious misunderstanding +which had taken place and also permanently grieved by her disloyalty +to his respectable ideals was only natural. He was, however, perfectly +satisfied with her beauty, her brilliance, and her useful connections. +She was admired, she was envied; she was surrounded by splendour and +adulation; the days went on rapid, brilliant, uniform, without a glimpse +of sincerity or true passion, without a single true emotion--not even +that of a great sorrow. And swiftly and stealthily they had led her on +and on, to this evening, to this coast, to this sea, to this moment of +time and to this spot on the earth's surface where she felt unerringly +that the moving shadow of the unbroken night had stood still to remain +with her forever. + +"So be it!" she murmured, resigned and defiant, at the mute and smooth +obscurity that hung before her eyes in a black curtain without a +fold; and as if in answer to that whisper a lantern was run up to the +foreyard-arm of the brig. She saw it ascend swinging for a. short space, +and suddenly remain motionless in the air, piercing the dense night +between the two vessels by its glance of flame that strong and steady +seemed, from afar, to fall upon her alone. + +Her thoughts, like a fascinated moth, went fluttering toward that +light--that man--that girl, who had known war, danger, seen death near, +had obtained evidently the devotion of that man. The occurrences of the +afternoon had been strange in themselves, but what struck her artistic +sense was the vigour of their presentation. They outlined themselves +before her memory with the clear simplicity of some immortal legend. +They were mysterious, but she felt certain they were absolutely true. +They embodied artless and masterful feelings; such, no doubt, as had +swayed mankind in the simplicity of its youth. She envied, for a moment, +the lot of that humble and obscure sister. Nothing stood between that +girl and the truth of her sensations. She could be sincerely courageous, +and tender and passionate and--well--ferocious. Why not ferocious? She +could know the truth of terror--and of affection, absolutely, without +artificial trammels, without the pain of restraint. + +Thinking of what such life could be Mrs. Travers felt invaded by that +inexplicable exaltation which the consciousness of their physical +capacities so often gives to intellectual beings. She glowed with a +sudden persuasion that she also could be equal to such an existence; and +her heart was dilated with a momentary longing to know the naked truth +of things; the naked truth of life and passion buried under the growth +of centuries. + +She glowed and, suddenly, she quivered with the shock of coming to +herself as if she had fallen down from a star. There was a sound of +rippling water and a shapeless mass glided out of the dark void she +confronted. A voice below her feet said: + +"I made out your shape--on the sky." A cry of surprise expired on her +lips and she could only peer downward. Lingard, alone in the brig's +dinghy, with another stroke sent the light boat nearly under the yacht's +counter, laid his sculls in, and rose from the thwart. His head and +shoulders loomed up alongside and he had the appearance of standing upon +the sea. Involuntarily Mrs. Travers made a movement of retreat. + +"Stop," he said, anxiously, "don't speak loud. No one must know. Where +do your people think themselves, I wonder? In a dock at home? And you--" + +"My husband is not on board," she interrupted, hurriedly. + +"I know." + +She bent a little more over the rail. + +"Then you are having us watched. Why?" + +"Somebody must watch. Your people keep such a good look-out--don't they? +Yes. Ever since dark one of my boats has been dodging astern here, in +the deep water. I swore to myself I would never see one of you, never +speak to one of you here, that I would be dumb, blind, deaf. And--here I +am!" + +Mrs. Travers' alarm and mistrust were replaced by an immense curiosity, +burning, yet quiet, too, as if before the inevitable work of destiny. +She looked downward at Lingard. His head was bared, and, with one hand +upon the ship's side, he seemed to be thinking deeply. + +"Because you had something more to tell us," Mrs. Travers suggested, +gently. + +"Yes," he said in a low tone and without moving in the least. + +"Will you come on board and wait?" she asked. + +"Who? I!" He lifted his head so quickly as to startle her. "I have +nothing to say to him; and I'll never put my foot on board this craft. +I've been told to go. That's enough." + +"He is accustomed to be addressed deferentially," she said after a +pause, "and you--" + +"Who is he?" asked Lingard, simply. + +These three words seemed to her to scatter her past in the air--like +smoke. They robbed all the multitude of mankind of every vestige of +importance. She was amazed to find that on this night, in this place, +there could be no adequate answer to the searching naiveness of that +question. + +"I didn't ask for much," Lingard began again. "Did I? Only that you all +should come on board my brig for five days. That's all. . . . Do I +look like a liar? There are things I could not tell him. I couldn't +explain--I couldn't--not to him--to no man--to no man in the world--" + +His voice dropped. + +"Not to myself," he ended as if in a dream. + +"We have remained unmolested so long here," began Mrs. Travers a little +unsteadily, "that it makes it very difficult to believe in danger, now. +We saw no one all these days except those two people who came for you. +If you may not explain--" + +"Of course, you can't be expected to see through a wall," broke in +Lingard. "This coast's like a wall, but I know what's on the other side. +. . . A yacht here, of all things that float! When I set eyes on her I +could fancy she hadn't been more than an hour from home. Nothing but the +look of her spars made me think of old times. And then the faces of the +chaps on board. I seemed to know them all. It was like home coming to me +when I wasn't thinking of it. And I hated the sight of you all." + +"If we are exposed to any peril," she said after a pause during which +she tried to penetrate the secret of passion hidden behind that man's +words, "it need not affect you. Our other boat is gone to the Straits +and effective help is sure to come very soon." + +"Affect me! Is that precious watchman of yours coming aft? I don't want +anybody to know I came here again begging, even of you. Is he coming +aft? . . . Listen! I've stopped your other boat." + +His head and shoulders disappeared as though he had dived into a denser +layer of obscurity floating on the water. The watchman, who had the +intention to stretch himself in one of the deck chairs, catching sight +of the owner's wife, walked straight to the lamp that hung under the +ridge pole of the awning, and after fumbling with it for a time went +away forward with an indolent gait. + +"You dared!" Mrs. Travers whispered down in an intense tone; and +directly, Lingard's head emerged again below her with an upturned face. + +"It was dare--or give up. The help from the Straits would have been too +late anyhow if I hadn't the power to keep you safe; and if I had the +power I could see you through it--alone. I expected to find a reasonable +man to talk to. I ought to have known better. You come from too far to +understand these things. Well, I dared; I've sent after your other boat +a fellow who, with me at his back, would try to stop the governor of +the Straits himself. He will do it. Perhaps it's done already. You +have nothing to hope for. But I am here. You said you believed I meant +well--" + +"Yes," she murmured. + +"That's why I thought I would tell you everything. I had to begin with +this business about the boat. And what do you think of me now? I've cut +you off from the rest of the earth. You people would disappear like a +stone in the water. You left one foreign port for another. Who's there +to trouble about what became of you? Who would know? Who could guess? It +would be months before they began to stir." + +"I understand," she said, steadily, "we are helpless." + +"And alone," he added. + +After a pause she said in a deliberate, restrained voice: + +"What does this mean? Plunder, captivity?" + +"It would have meant death if I hadn't been here," he answered. + +"But you have the power to--" + +"Why, do you think, you are alive yet?" he cried. "Jorgenson has been +arguing with them on shore," he went on, more calmly, with a swing of +his arm toward where the night seemed darkest. "Do you think he would +have kept them back if they hadn't expected me every day? His words +would have been nothing without my fist." + +She heard a dull blow struck on the side of the yacht and concealed in +the same darkness that wrapped the unconcern of the earth and sea, the +fury and the pain of hearts; she smiled above his head, fascinated by +the simplicity of images and expressions. + +Lingard made a brusque movement, the lively little boat being unsteady +under his feet, and she spoke slowly, absently, as if her thought had +been lost in the vagueness of her sensations. + +"And this--this--Jorgenson, you said? Who is he?" + +"A man," he answered, "a man like myself." + +"Like yourself?" + +"Just like myself," he said with strange reluctance, as if admitting a +painful truth. "More sense, perhaps, but less luck. Though, since your +yacht has turned up here, I begin to think that my luck is nothing much +to boast of either." + +"Is our presence here so fatal?" + +"It may be death to some. It may be worse than death to me. And it rests +with you in a way. Think of that! I can never find such another chance +again. But that's nothing! A man who has saved my life once and that I +passed my word to would think I had thrown him over. But that's nothing! +Listen! As true as I stand here in my boat talking to you, I believe the +girl would die of grief." + +"You love her," she said, softly. + +"Like my own daughter," he cried, low. + +Mrs. Travers said, "Oh!" faintly, and for a moment there was a silence, +then he began again: + +"Look here. When I was a boy in a trawler, and looked at you yacht +people, in the Channel ports, you were as strange to me as the Malays +here are strange to you. I left home sixteen years ago and fought my way +all round the earth. I had the time to forget where I began. What are +you to me against these two? If I was to die here on the spot would you +care? No one would care at home. No one in the whole world--but these +two." + +"What can I do?" she asked, and waited, leaning over. + +He seemed to reflect, then lifting his head, spoke gently: + +"Do you understand the danger you are in? Are you afraid?" + +"I understand the expression you used, of course. Understand the +danger?" she went on. "No--decidedly no. And--honestly--I am not +afraid." + +"Aren't you?" he said in a disappointed voice. "Perhaps you don't +believe me? I believed you, though, when you said you were sure I meant +well. I trusted you enough to come here asking for your help--telling +you what no one knows." + +"You mistake me," she said with impulsive earnestness. "This is so +extraordinarily unusual--sudden--outside my experience." + +"Aye!" he murmured, "what would you know of danger and trouble? You! But +perhaps by thinking it over--" + +"You want me to think myself into a fright!" Mrs. Travers laughed +lightly, and in the gloom of his thought this flash of joyous sound +was incongruous and almost terrible. Next moment the night appeared +brilliant as day, warm as sunshine; but when she ceased the returning +darkness gave him pain as if it had struck heavily against his breast. +"I don't think I could do that," she finished in a serious tone. + +"Couldn't you?" He hesitated, perplexed. "Things are bad enough to make +it no shame. I tell you," he said, rapidly, "and I am not a timid man, I +may not be able to do much if you people don't help me." + +"You want me to pretend I am alarmed?" she asked, quickly. + +"Aye, to pretend--as well you may. It's a lot to ask of you--who perhaps +never had to make-believe a thing in your life--isn't it?" + +"It is," she said after a time. + +The unexpected bitterness of her tone struck Lingard with dismay. + +"Don't be offended," he entreated. "I've got to plan a way out of this +mess. It's no play either. Could you pretend?" + +"Perhaps, if I tried very hard. But to what end?" + +"You must all shift aboard the brig," he began, speaking quickly, "and +then we may get over this trouble without coming to blows. Now, if you +were to say that you wish it; that you feel unsafe in the yacht--don't +you see?" + +"I see," she pronounced, thoughtfully. + +"The brig is small but the cuddy is fit for a lady," went on Lingard +with animation. + +"Has it not already sheltered a princess?" she commented, coolly. + +"And I shall not intrude." + +"This is an inducement." + +"Nobody will dare to intrude. You needn't even see me." + +"This is almost decisive, only--" + +"I know my place." + +"Only, I might not have the influence," she finished. + +"That I can not believe," he said, roughly. "The long and the short of +it is you don't trust me because you think that only people of your own +condition speak the truth always." + +"Evidently," she murmured. + +"You say to yourself--here's a fellow deep in with pirates, thieves, +niggers--" + +"To be sure--" + +"A man I never saw the like before," went on Lingard, headlong, +"a--ruffian." + +He checked himself, full of confusion. After a time he heard her saying, +calmly: + +"You are like other men in this, that you get angry when you can not +have your way at once." + +"I angry!" he exclaimed in deadened voice. "You do not understand. I am +thinking of you also--it is hard on me--" + +"I mistrust not you, but my own power. You have produced an unfortunate +impression on Mr. Travers." + +"Unfortunate impression! He treated me as if I had been a long-shore +loafer. Never mind that. He is your husband. Fear in those you care for +is hard to bear for any man. And so, he--" + +"What Machiavellism!" + +"Eh, what did you say?" + +"I only wondered where you had observed that. On the sea?" + +"Observed what?" he said, absently. Then pursuing his idea--"One word +from you ought to be enough." + +"You think so?" + +"I am sure of it. Why, even I, myself--" + +"Of course," she interrupted. "But don't you think that after parting +with you on such--such--inimical terms, there would be a difficulty in +resuming relations?" + +"A man like me would do anything for money--don't you see?" + +After a pause she asked: + +"And would you care for that argument to be used?" + +"As long as you know better!" + +His voice vibrated--she drew back disturbed, as if unexpectedly he had +touched her. + +"What can there be at stake?" she began, wonderingly. + +"A kingdom," said Lingard. + +Mrs. Travers leaned far over the rail, staring, and their faces, one +above the other, came very close together. + +"Not for yourself?" she whispered. + +He felt the touch of her breath on his forehead and remained still for +a moment, perfectly still as if he did not intend to move or speak any +more. + +"Those things," he began, suddenly, "come in your way, when you don't +think, and they get all round you before you know what you mean to +do. When I went into that bay in New Guinea I never guessed where that +course would take me to. I could tell you a story. You would understand! +You! You!" + +He stammered, hesitated, and suddenly spoke, liberating the visions +of two years into the night where Mrs. Travers could follow them as if +outlined in words of fire. + + + +VII + +His tale was as startling as the discovery of a new world. She was being +taken along the boundary of an exciting existence, and she looked into +it through the guileless enthusiasm of the narrator. The heroic quality +of the feelings concealed what was disproportionate and absurd in +that gratitude, in that friendship, in that inexplicable devotion. The +headlong fierceness of purpose invested his obscure design of conquest +with the proportions of a great enterprise. It was clear that no vision +of a subjugated world could have been more inspiring to the most famous +adventurer of history. + +From time to time he interrupted himself to ask, confidently, as if +he had been speaking to an old friend, "What would you have done?" and +hurried on without pausing for approval. + +It struck her that there was a great passion in all this, the beauty of +an implanted faculty of affection that had found itself, its immediate +need of an object and the way of expansion; a tenderness expressed +violently; a tenderness that could only be satisfied by backing human +beings against their own destiny. Perhaps her hatred of convention, +trammelling the frankness of her own impulses, had rendered her more +alert to perceive what is intrinsically great and profound within the +forms of human folly, so simple and so infinitely varied according to +the region of the earth and to the moment of time. + +What of it that the narrator was only a roving seaman; the kingdom of +the jungle, the men of the forest, the lives obscure! That simple soul +was possessed by the greatness of the idea; there was nothing sordid in +its flaming impulses. When she once understood that, the story appealed +to the audacity of her thoughts, and she became so charmed with what she +heard that she forgot where she was. She forgot that she was personally +close to that tale which she saw detached, far away from her, truth or +fiction, presented in picturesque speech, real only by the response of +her emotion. + +Lingard paused. In the cessation of the impassioned murmur she began to +reflect. And at first it was only an oppressive notion of there being +some significance that really mattered in this man's story. That +mattered to her. For the first time the shadow of danger and death +crossed her mind. Was that the significance? Suddenly, in a flash of +acute discernment, she saw herself involved helplessly in that story, as +one is involved in a natural cataclysm. + +He was speaking again. He had not been silent more than a minute. It +seemed to Mrs. Travers that years had elapsed, so different now was the +effect of his words. Her mind was agitated as if his coming to speak and +confide in her had been a tremendous occurrence. It was a fact of her +own existence; it was part of the story also. This was the disturbing +thought. She heard him pronounce several names: Belarab, Daman, Tengga, +Ningrat. These belonged now to her life and she was appalled to find she +was unable to connect these names with any human appearance. They stood +out alone, as if written on the night; they took on a symbolic shape; +they imposed themselves upon her senses. She whispered as if pondering: +"Belarab, Daman, Ningrat," and these barbarous sounds seemed to possess +an exceptional energy, a fatal aspect, the savour of madness. + +"Not one of them but has a heavy score to settle with the whites. What's +that to me! I had somehow to get men who would fight. I risked my life +to get that lot. I made them promises which I shall keep--or--! Can you +see now why I dared to stop your boat? I am in so deep that I care +for no Sir John in the world. When I look at the work ahead I care for +nothing. I gave you one chance--one good chance. That I had to do. No! I +suppose I didn't look enough of a gentleman. Yes! Yes! That's it. Yet +I know what a gentleman is. I lived with them for years. I chummed with +them--yes--on gold-fields and in other places where a man has got +to show the stuff that's in him. Some of them write from home to me +here--such as you see me, because I--never mind! And I know what a +gentleman would do. Come! Wouldn't he treat a stranger fairly? Wouldn't +he remember that no man is a liar till you prove him so? Wouldn't he +keep his word wherever given? Well, I am going to do that. Not a hair of +your head shall be touched as long as I live!" + +She had regained much of her composure but at these words she felt that +staggering sense of utter insecurity which is given one by the first +tremor of an earthquake. It was followed by an expectant stillness of +sensations. She remained silent. He thought she did not believe him. + +"Come! What on earth do you think brought me here--to--to--talk like +this to you? There was Hassim--Rajah Tulla, I should say--who was asking +me this afternoon: 'What will you do now with these, your people?' I +believe he thinks yet I fetched you here for some reason. You can't tell +what crooked notion they will get into their thick heads. It's enough to +make one swear." He swore. "My people! Are you? How much? Say--how much? +You're no more mine than I am yours. Would any of you fine folks at home +face black ruin to save a fishing smack's crew from getting drowned?" + +Notwithstanding that sense of insecurity which lingered faintly in her +mind she had no image of death before her. She felt intensely alive. +She felt alive in a flush of strength, with an impression of novelty as +though life had been the gift of this very moment. The danger hidden in +the night gave no sign to awaken her terror, but the workings of a +human soul, simple and violent, were laid bare before her and had the +disturbing charm of an unheard-of experience. She was listening to a man +who concealed nothing. She said, interrogatively: + +"And yet you have come?" + +"Yes," he answered, "to you--and for you only." + +The flood tide running strong over the banks made a placid trickling +sound about the yacht's rudder. + +"I would not be saved alone." + +"Then you must bring them over yourself," he said in a sombre tone. +"There's the brig. You have me--my men--my guns. You know what to do. + +"I will try," she said. + +"Very well. I am sorry for the poor devils forward there if you fail. +But of course you won't. Watch that light on the brig. I had it hoisted +on purpose. The trouble may be nearer than we think. Two of my boats +are gone scouting and if the news they bring me is bad the light will +be lowered. Think what that means. And I've told you what I have told +nobody. Think of my feelings also. I told you because I--because I had +to." + +He gave a shove against the yacht's side and glided away from under her +eyes. A rippling sound died out. + +She walked away from the rail. The lamp and the skylights shone +faintly along the dark stretch of the decks. This evening was like the +last--like all the evenings before. + +"Is all this I have heard possible?" she asked herself. "No--but it is +true." + +She sat down in a deck chair to think and found she could only remember. +She jumped up. She was sure somebody was hailing the yacht faintly. Was +that man hailing? She listened, and hearing nothing was annoyed with +herself for being haunted by a voice. + +"He said he could trust me. Now, what is this danger? What is danger?" +she meditated. + +Footsteps were coming from forward. The figure of the watchman flitted +vaguely over the gangway. He was whistling softly and vanished. Hollow +sounds in the boat were succeeded by a splash of oars. The night +swallowed these slight noises. Mrs. Travers sat down again and found +herself much calmer. + +She had the faculty of being able to think her own thoughts--and the +courage. She could take no action of any kind till her husband's return. +Lingard's warnings were not what had impressed her most. This man had +presented his innermost self unclothed by any subterfuge. There were +in plain sight his desires, his perplexities, affections, doubts, his +violence, his folly; and the existence they made up was lawless but not +vile. She had too much elevation of mind to look upon him from any other +but a strictly human standpoint. If he trusted her (how strange; +why should he? Was he wrong?) she accepted the trust with scrupulous +fairness. And when it dawned upon her that of all the men in the world +this unquestionably was the one she knew best, she had a moment of +wonder followed by an impression of profound sadness. It seemed an +unfortunate matter that concerned her alone. + +Her thought was suspended while she listened attentively for the return +of the yacht's boat. She was dismayed at the task before her. Not a +sound broke the stillness and she felt as if she were lost in empty +space. Then suddenly someone amidships yawned immensely and said: "Oh, +dear! Oh, dear!" A voice asked: "Ain't they back yet?" A negative grunt +answered. + +Mrs. Travers found that Lingard was touching, because he could be +understood. How simple was life, she reflected. She was frank with +herself. She considered him apart from social organization. She +discovered he had no place in it. How delightful! Here was a human +being and the naked truth of things was not so very far from her +notwithstanding the growth of centuries. Then it occurred to her that +this man by his action stripped her at once of her position, of her +wealth, of her rank, of her past. "I am helpless. What remains?" she +asked herself. Nothing! Anybody there might have suggested: "Your +presence." She was too artificial yet to think of her beauty; and yet +the power of personality is part of the naked truth of things. + +She looked over her shoulder, and saw the light at the brig's +foreyard-arm burning with a strong, calm flame in the dust of starlight +suspended above the coast. She heard the heavy bump as of a boat run +headlong against the ladder. They were back! She rose in sudden and +extreme agitation. What should she say? How much? How to begin? Why say +anything? It would be absurd, like talking seriously about a dream. +She would not dare! In a moment she was driven into a state of mind +bordering on distraction. She heard somebody run up the gangway steps. +With the idea of gaining time she walked rapidly aft to the taffrail. +The light of the brig faced her without a flicker, enormous amongst the +suns scattered in the immensity of the night. + +She fixed her eyes on it. She thought: "I shan't tell him anything. +Impossible. No! I shall tell everything." She expected every moment to +hear her husband's voice and the suspense was intolerable because she +felt that then she must decide. Somebody on deck was babbling excitedly. +She devoutly hoped d'Alcacer would speak first and thus put off the +fatal moment. A voice said roughly: "What's that?" And in the midst of +her distress she recognized Carter's voice, having noticed that young +man who was of a different stamp from the rest of the crew. She came to +the conclusion that the matter could be related jocularly, or--why not +pretend fear? At that moment the brig's yard-arm light she was looking +at trembled distinctly, and she was dumfounded as if she had seen a +commotion in the firmament. With her lips open for a cry she saw it fall +straight down several feet, flicker, and go out. All perplexity passed +from her mind. This first fact of the danger gave her a thrill of quite +a new emotion. Something had to be done at once. For some remote reason +she felt ashamed of her hesitations. + +She moved swiftly forward and under the lamp came face to face with +Carter who was coming aft. Both stopped, staring, the light fell on +their faces, and both were struck by each other's expression. The four +eyes shone wide. + +"You have seen?" she asked, beginning to tremble. + +"How do you know?" he said, at the same time, evidently surprised. + +Suddenly she saw that everybody was on deck. + +"The light is down," she stammered. + +"The gentlemen are lost," said Carter. Then he perceived she did not +seem to understand. "Kidnapped off the sandbank," he continued, looking +at her fixedly to see how she would take it. She seemed calm. "Kidnapped +like a pair of lambs! Not a squeak," he burst out with indignation. "But +the sandbank is long and they might have been at the other end. You were +on deck, ma'am?" he asked. + +"Yes," she murmured. "In the chair here." + +"We were all down below. I had to rest a little. When I came up the +watchman was asleep. He swears he wasn't, but I know better. Nobody +heard any noise, unless you did. But perhaps you were asleep?" he asked, +deferentially. + +"Yes--no--I must have been," she said, faintly. + + + +VIII + +Lingard's soul was exalted by his talk with Mrs. Travers, by the strain +of incertitude and by extreme fatigue. On returning on board he asked +after Hassim and was told that the Rajah and his sister had gone off in +their canoe promising to return before midnight. The boats sent to scout +between the islets north and south of the anchorage had not come back +yet. He went into his cabin and throwing himself on the couch closed his +eyes thinking: "I must sleep or I shall go mad." + +At times he felt an unshaken confidence in Mrs. Travers--then he +remembered her face. Next moment the face would fade, he would make an +effort to hold on to the image, fail--and then become convinced without +the shadow of a doubt that he was utterly lost, unless he let all these +people be wiped off the face of the earth. + +"They all heard that man order me out of his ship," he thought, and +thereupon for a second or so he contemplated without flinching the lurid +image of a massacre. "And yet I had to tell her that not a hair of her +head shall be touched. Not a hair." + +And irrationally at the recollection of these words there seemed to be +no trouble of any kind left in the world. Now and then, however, there +were black instants when from sheer weariness he thought of nothing at +all; and during one of these he fell asleep, losing the consciousness +of external things as suddenly as if he had been felled by a blow on the +head. + +When he sat up, almost before he was properly awake, his first alarmed +conviction was that he had slept the night through. There was a light in +the cuddy and through the open door of his cabin he saw distinctly Mrs. +Travers pass out of view across the lighted space. + +"They did come on board after all," he thought--"how is it I haven't +been called!" + +He darted into the cuddy. Nobody! Looking up at the clock in the +skylight he was vexed to see it had stopped till his ear caught the +faint beat of the mechanism. It was going then! He could not have been +asleep more than ten minutes. He had not been on board more than twenty! + +So it was only a deception; he had seen no one. And yet he remembered +the turn of the head, the line of the neck, the colour of the hair, +the movement of the passing figure. He returned spiritlessly to his +state-room muttering, "No more sleep for me to-night," and came out +directly, holding a few sheets of paper covered with a high, angular +handwriting. + +This was Jorgenson's letter written three days before and entrusted to +Hassim. Lingard had read it already twice, but he turned up the lamp a +little higher and sat down to read it again. On the red shield above his +head the gilt sheaf of thunderbolts darting between the initials of his +name seemed to be aimed straight at the nape of his neck as he sat with +bared elbows spread on the table, poring over the crumpled sheets. The +letter began: + +Hassim and Immada are going out to-night to look for you. You are behind +your time and every passing day makes things worse. + +Ten days ago three of Belarab's men, who had been collecting turtles' +eggs on the islets, came flying back with a story of a ship stranded on +the outer mudflats. Belarab at once forbade any boat from leaving the +lagoon. So far good. There was a great excitement in the village. I +judge it must be a schooner--probably some fool of a trader. However, +you will know all about her when you read this. You may say I might +have pulled out to sea to have a look for myself. But besides Belarab's +orders to the contrary, which I would attend to for the sake of example, +all you are worth in this world, Tom, is here in the Emma, under my +feet, and I would not leave my charge even for half a day. Hassim +attended the council held every evening in the shed outside Belarab's +stockade. That holy man Ningrat was for looting that vessel. Hassim +reproved him saying that the vessel probably was sent by you because +no white men were known to come inside the shoals. Belarab backed up +Hassim. Ningrat was very angry and reproached Belarab for keeping him, +Ningrat, short of opium to smoke. He began by calling him "O! son," +and ended by shouting, "O! you worse than an unbeliever!" There was a +hullabaloo. The followers of Tengga were ready to interfere and you +know how it is between Tengga and Belarab. Tengga always wanted to oust +Belarab, and his chances were getting pretty good before you turned up +and armed Belarab's bodyguard with muskets. However, Hassim stopped that +row, and no one was hurt that time. Next day, which was Friday, Ningrat +after reading the prayers in the mosque talked to the people outside. He +bleated and capered like an old goat, prophesying misfortune, ruin, and +extermination if these whites were allowed to get away. He is mad but +then they think him a saint, and he had been fighting the Dutch for +years in his young days. Six of Belarab's guard marched down the village +street carrying muskets at full cock and the crowd cleared out. Ningrat +was spirited away by Tengga's men into their master's stockade. If it +was not for the fear of you turning up any moment there would have been +a party-fight that evening. I think it is a pity Tengga is not chief +of the land instead of Belarab. A brave and foresighted man, however +treacherous at heart, can always be trusted to a certain extent. One can +never get anything clear from Belarab. Peace! Peace! You know his fad. +And this fad makes him act silly. The peace racket will get him into a +row. It may cost him his life in the end. However, Tengga does not feel +himself strong enough yet to act with his own followers only and Belarab +has, on my advice, disarmed all villagers. His men went into the houses +and took away by force all the firearms and as many spears as they +could lay hands on. The women screamed abuse of course, but there was no +resistance. A few men were seen clearing out into the forest with their +arms. Note this, for it means there is another power beside Belarab's in +the village: the growing power of Tengga. + +One morning--four days ago--I went to see Tengga. I found him by the +shore trimming a plank with a small hatchet while a slave held an +umbrella over his head. He is amusing himself in building a boat just +now. He threw his hatchet down to meet me and led me by the hand to +a shady spot. He told me frankly he had sent out two good swimmers to +observe the stranded vessel. These men stole down the creek in a canoe +and when on the sea coast swam from sandbank to sandbank until they +approached unobserved--I think--to about fifty yards from that schooner +What can that craft be? I can't make it out. The men reported there +were three chiefs on board. One with a glittering eye, one a lean man +in white, and another without any hair on the face and dressed in a +different style. Could it be a woman? I don't know what to think. I wish +you were here. After a lot of chatter Tengga said: "Six years ago I was +ruler of a country and the Dutch drove me out. The country was small but +nothing is too small for them to take. They pretended to give it back +to my nephew--may he burn! I ran away or they would have killed me. I am +nothing here--but I remember. These white people out there can not run +away and they are very few. There is perhaps a little to loot. I would +give it to my men who followed me in my calamity because I am their +chief and my father was the chief of their fathers." I pointed out the +imprudence of this. He said: "The dead do not show the way." To this I +remarked that the ignorant do not give information. Tengga kept quiet +for a while, then said: "We must not touch them because their skin is +like yours and to kill them would be wrong, but at the bidding of you +whites we may go and fight with people of our own skin and our own +faith--and that is good. I have promised to Tuan Lingard twenty men and +a prau to make war in Wajo. The men are good and look at the prau; it +is swift and strong." I must say, Tom, the prau is the best craft of +the kind I have ever seen. I said you paid him well for the help. "And +I also would pay," says he, "if you let me have a few guns and a little +powder for my men. You and I shall share the loot of that ship outside, +and Tuan Lingard will not know. It is only a little game. You have +plenty of guns and powder under your care." He meant in the Emma. On +that I spoke out pretty straight and we got rather warm until at last +he gave me to understand that as he had about forty followers of his own +and I had only nine of Hassim's chaps to defend the Emma with, he could +very well go for me and get the lot. "And then," says he, "I would be so +strong that everybody would be on my side." I discovered in the course +of further talk that there is a notion amongst many people that you have +come to grief in some way and won't show up here any more. After this +I saw the position was serious and I was in a hurry to get back to the +Emma, but pretending I did not care I smiled and thanked Tengga for +giving me warning of his intentions about me and the Emma. At this he +nearly choked himself with his betel quid and fixing me with his little +eyes, muttered: "Even a lizard will give a fly the time to say its +prayers." I turned my back on him and was very thankful to get beyond +the throw of a spear. I haven't been out of the Emma since. + + + +IX + +The letter went on to enlarge on the intrigues of Tengga, the wavering +conduct of Belarab, and the state of the public mind. It noted every +gust of opinion and every event, with an earnestness of belief in their +importance befitting the chronicle of a crisis in the history of an +empire. The shade of Jorgenson had, indeed, stepped back into the life +of men. The old adventurer looked on with a perfect understanding of +the value of trifles, using his eyes for that other man whose conscience +would have the task to unravel the tangle. Lingard lived through those +days in the Settlement and was thankful to Jorgenson; only as he lived +not from day to day but from sentence to sentence of the writing, there +was an effect of bewildering rapidity in the succession of events that +made him grunt with surprise sometimes or growl--"What?" to himself +angrily and turn back several lines or a whole page more than once. +Toward the end he had a heavy frown of perplexity and fidgeted as he +read: + +--and I began to think I could keep things quiet till you came or those +wretched white people got their schooner off, when Sherif Daman arrived +from the north on the very day he was expected, with two Illanun praus. +He looks like an Arab. It was very evident to me he can wind the two +Illanun pangerans round his little finger. The two praus are large and +armed. They came up the creek, flags and streamers flying, beating drums +and gongs, and entered the lagoon with their decks full of armed men +brandishing two-handed swords and sounding the war cry. It is a fine +force for you, only Belarab who is a perverse devil would not receive +Sherif Daman at once. So Daman went to see Tengga who detained him a +very long time. Leaving Tengga he came on board the Emma, and I could +see directly there was something up. + +He began by asking me for the ammunition and weapons they are to get +from you, saying he was anxious to sail at once toward Wajo, since it +was agreed he was to precede you by a few days. I replied that that +was true enough but that I could not think of giving him the powder +and muskets till you came. He began to talk about you and hinted that +perhaps you will never come. "And no matter," says he, "here is Rajah +Hassim and the Lady Immada and we would fight for them if no white man +was left in the world. Only we must have something to fight with." He +pretended then to forget me altogether and talked with Hassim while I +sat listening. He began to boast how well he got along the Bruni coast. +No Illanun prau had passed down that coast for years. + +Immada wanted me to give the arms he was asking for. The girl is beside +herself with fear of something happening that would put a stopper on +the Wajo expedition. She has set her mind on getting her country back. +Hassim is very reserved but he is very anxious, too. Daman got nothing +from me, and that very evening the praus were ordered by Belarab to +leave the lagoon. He does not trust the Illanuns--and small blame to +him. Sherif Daman went like a lamb. He has no powder for his guns. As +the praus passed by the Emma he shouted to me he was going to wait for +you outside the creek. Tengga has given him a man who would show him the +place. All this looks very queer to me. + +Look out outside then. The praus are dodging amongst the islets. Daman +visits Tengga. Tengga called on me as a good friend to try and persuade +me to give Daman the arms and gunpowder he is so anxious to get. Somehow +or other they tried to get around Belarab, who came to see me last night +and hinted I had better do so. He is anxious for these Illanuns to leave +the neighbourhood. He thinks that if they loot the schooner they will be +off at once. That's all he wants now. Immada has been to see Belarab's +women and stopped two nights in the stockade. Belarab's youngest +wife--he got married six weeks ago--is on the side of Tengga's party +because she thinks Belarab would get a share of the loot and she got +into her silly head there are jewels and silks in that schooner. What +between Tengga worrying him outside and the women worrying him at home, +Belarab had such a lively time of it that he concluded he would go to +pray at his father's tomb. So for the last two days he has been away +camping in that unhealthy place. When he comes back he will be down with +fever as sure as fate and then he will be no good for anything. Tengga +lights up smoky fires often. Some signal to Daman. I go ashore with +Hassim's men and put them out. This is risking a fight every time--for +Tengga's men look very black at us. I don't know what the next move may +be. Hassim's as true as steel. Immada is very unhappy. They will tell +you many details I have no time to write. + +The last page fluttered on the table out of Lingard's fingers. He sat +very still for a moment looking straight before him, then went on deck. + +"Our boats back yet?" he asked Shaw, whom he saw prowling on the +quarter-deck. + +"No, sir, I wish they were. I am waiting for them to go and turn in," +answered the mate in an aggrieved manner. + +"Lower that lantern forward there," cried Lingard, suddenly, in Malay. + +"This trade isn't fit for a decent man," muttered Shaw to himself, and +he moved away to lean on the rail, looking moodily to seaward. After a +while: "There seems to be commotion on board that yacht," he said. +"I see a lot of lights moving about her decks. Anything wrong, do you +think, sir?" + +"No, I know what it is," said Lingard in a tone of elation. She has done +it! he thought. + +He returned to the cabin, put away Jorgenson's letter and pulled out the +drawer of the table. It was full of cartridges. He took a musket down, +loaded it, then took another and another. He hammered at the waddings +with fierce joyousness. The ramrods rang and jumped. It seemed to him +he was doing his share of some work in which that woman was playing her +part faithfully. "She has done it," he repeated, mentally. "She will sit +in the cuddy. She will sleep in my berth. Well, I'm not ashamed of the +brig. By heavens--no! I shall keep away: never come near them as I've +promised. Now there's nothing more to say. I've told her everything at +once. There's nothing more." + +He felt a heaviness in his burning breast, in all his limbs as if the +blood in his veins had become molten lead. + +"I shall get the yacht off. Three, four days--no, a week." + +He found he couldn't do it under a week. It occurred to him he would see +her every day till the yacht was afloat. No, he wouldn't intrude, but he +was master and owner of the brig after all. He didn't mean to skulk like +a whipped cur about his own decks. + +"It'll be ten days before the schooner is ready. I'll take every scrap +of ballast out of her. I'll strip her--I'll take her lower masts out +of her, by heavens! I'll make sure. Then another week to fit +out--and--goodbye. Wish I had never seen them. Good-bye--forever. Home's +the place for them. Not for me. On another coast she would not have +listened. Ah, but she is a woman--every inch of her. I shall shake +hands. Yes. I shall take her hand--just before she goes. Why the devil +not? I am master here after all--in this brig--as good as any one--by +heavens, better than any one--better than any one on earth." + +He heard Shaw walk smartly forward above his head hailing: + +"What's that--a boat?" + +A voice answered indistinctly. + +"One of my boats is back," thought Lingard. "News about Daman perhaps. +I don't care if he kicks. I wish he would. I would soon show her I can +fight as well as I can handle the brig. Two praus. Only two praus. I +wouldn't mind if there were twenty. I would sweep 'em off the sea--I +would blow 'em out of the water--I would make the brig walk over them. +'Now,' I'd say to her, 'you who are not afraid, look how it's done!'" + +He felt light. He had the sensation of being whirled high in the midst +of an uproar and as powerless as a feather in a hurricane. He shuddered +profoundly. His arms hung down, and he stood before the table staring +like a man overcome by some fatal intelligence. + +Shaw, going into the waist to receive what he thought was one of the +brig's boats, came against Carter making his way aft hurriedly. + +"Hullo! Is it you again?" he said, swiftly, barring the way. + +"I come from the yacht," began Carter with some impatience. + +"Where else could you come from?" said Shaw. "And what might you want +now?" + +"I want to see your skipper." + +"Well, you can't," declared Shaw, viciously. "He's turned in for the +night." + +"He expects me," said Carter, stamping his foot. "I've got to tell him +what happened." + +"Don't you fret yourself, young man," said Shaw in a superior manner; +"he knows all about it." + +They stood suddenly silent in the dark. Carter seemed at a loss what to +do. Shaw, though surprised by it, enjoyed the effect he had produced. + +"Damn me, if I did not think so," murmured Carter to himself; then +drawling coolly asked--"And perhaps you know, too?" + +"What do you think? Think I am a dummy here? I ain't mate of this brig +for nothing." + +"No, you are not," said Carter with a certain bitterness of tone. +"People do all kinds of queer things for a living, and I am not +particular myself, but I would think twice before taking your billet." + +"What? What do you in-si-nu-ate. My billet? You ain't fit for it, you +yacht-swabbing brass-buttoned imposter." + +"What's this? Any of our boats back?" asked Lingard from the poop. "Let +the seacannie in charge come to me at once." + +"There's only a message from the yacht," began Shaw, deliberately. + +"Yacht! Get the deck lamps along here in the waist! See the ladder +lowered. Bear a hand, serang! Mr. Shaw! Burn the flare up aft. Two of +them! Give light to the yacht's boats that will be coming alongside. +Steward! Where's that steward? Turn him out then." + +Bare feet began to patter all round Carter. Shadows glided swiftly. + +"Are these flares coming? Where's the quartermaster on duty?" shouted +Lingard in English and Malay. "This way, come here! Put it on a rocket +stick--can't you? Hold over the side--thus! Stand by with the lines for +the boats forward there. Mr. Shaw--we want more light!" + +"Aye, aye, sir," called out Shaw, but he did not move, as if dazed by +the vehemence of his commander. + +"That's what we want," muttered Carter under his breath. "Imposter! What +do you call yourself?" he said half aloud to Shaw. + +The ruddy glare of the flares disclosed Lingard from head to foot, +standing at the break of the poop. His head was bare, his face, crudely +lighted, had a fierce and changing expression in the sway of flames. + +"What can be his game?" thought Carter, impressed by the powerful +and wild aspect of that figure. "He's changed somehow since I saw him +first," he reflected. It struck him the change was serious, not exactly +for the worse, perhaps--and yet. . . . Lingard smiled at him from the +poop. + +Carter went up the steps and without pausing informed him of what had +happened. + +"Mrs. Travers told me to go to you at once. She's very upset as you may +guess," he drawled, looking Lingard hard in the face. Lingard knitted +his eyebrows. "The hands, too, are scared," Carter went on. "They fancy +the savages, or whatever they may be who stole the owner, are going to +board the yacht every minute. I don't think so myself but--" + +"Quite right--most unlikely," muttered Lingard. + +"Aye, I daresay you know all about it," continued Carter, coolly, "the +men are startled and no mistake, but I can't blame them very much. There +isn't enough even of carving knives aboard to go round. One old signal +gun! A poor show for better men than they." + +"There's no mistake I suppose about this affair?" asked Lingard. + +"Well, unless the gentlemen are having a lark with us at hide and seek. +The man says he waited ten minutes at the point, then pulled slowly +along the bank looking out, expecting to see them walking back. He +made the trunk of a tree apparently stranded on the sand and as he was +sculling past he says a man jumped up from behind that log, flung a +stick at him and went off running. He backed water at once and began to +shout, 'Are you there, sir?' No one answered. He could hear the bushes +rustle and some strange noises like whisperings. It was very dark. After +calling out several times, and waiting on his oars, he got frightened +and pulled back to the yacht. That is clear enough. The only doubt in +my mind is if they are alive or not. I didn't let on to Mrs. Travers. +That's a kind of thing you keep to yourself, of course." + +"I don't think they are dead," said Lingard, slowly, and as if thinking +of something else. + +"Oh! If you say so it's all right," said Carter with deliberation. + +"What?" asked Lingard, absently; "fling a stick, did they? Fling a +spear!" + +"That's it!" assented Carter, "but I didn't say anything. I only +wondered if the same kind of stick hadn't been flung at the owner, +that's all. But I suppose you know your business best, Captain." + +Lingard, grasping his whole beard, reflected profoundly, erect and with +bowed head in the glare of the flares. + +"I suppose you think it's my doing?" he asked, sharply, without looking +up. + +Carter surveyed him with a candidly curious gaze. "Well, Captain, Mrs. +Travers did let on a bit to me about our chief-officer's boat. You've +stopped it, haven't you? How she got to know God only knows. She +was sorry she spoke, too, but it wasn't so much of news to me as she +thought. I can put two and two together, sometimes. Those rockets, last +night, eh? I wished I had bitten my tongue out before I told you about +our first gig. But I was taken unawares. Wasn't I? I put it to you: +wasn't I? And so I told her when she asked me what passed between +you and me on board this brig, not twenty-four hours ago. Things look +different now, all of a sudden. Enough to scare a woman, but she is +the best man of them all on board. The others are fairly off the chump +because it's a bit dark and something has happened they ain't used to. +But she has something on her mind. I can't make her out!" He paused, +wriggled his shoulders slightly--"No more than I can make you out," he +added. + +"That's your trouble, is it?" said Lingard, slowly. + +"Aye, Captain. Is it all clear to you? Stopping boats, kidnapping +gentlemen. That's fun in a way, only--I am a youngster to you--but is it +all clear to you? Old Robinson wasn't particular, you know, and he--" + +"Clearer than daylight," cried Lingard, hotly. "I can't give up--" + +He checked himself. Carter waited. The flare bearers stood rigid, +turning their faces away from the flame, and in the play of gleams at +its foot the mast near by, like a lofty column, ascended in the great +darkness. A lot of ropes ran up slanting into a dark void and were +lost to sight, but high aloft a brace block gleamed white, the end of a +yard-arm could be seen suspended in the air and as if glowing with its +own light. The sky had clouded over the brig without a breath of wind. + +"Give up," repeated Carter with an uneasy shuffle of feet. + +"Nobody," finished Lingard. "I can't. It's as clear as daylight. I +can't! No! Nothing!" + +He stared straight out afar, and after looking at him Carter felt moved +by a bit of youthful intuition to murmur, "That's bad," in a tone +that almost in spite of himself hinted at the dawning of a befogged +compassion. + +He had a sense of confusion within him, the sense of mystery without. +He had never experienced anything like it all the time when serving with +old Robinson in the Ly-e-moon. And yet he had seen and taken part in +some queer doings that were not clear to him at the time. They were +secret but they suggested something comprehensible. This affair did not. +It had somehow a subtlety that affected him. He was uneasy as if there +had been a breath of magic on events and men giving to this complication +of a yachting voyage a significance impossible to perceive, but felt +in the words, in the gestures, in the events, which made them all +strangely, obscurely startling. + +He was not one who could keep track of his sensations, and besides he +had not the leisure. He had to answer Lingard's questions about the +people of the yacht. No, he couldn't say Mrs. Travers was what you may +call frightened. She seemed to have something in her mind. Oh, yes! The +chaps were in a funk. Would they fight? Anybody would fight when driven +to it, funk or no funk. That was his experience. Naturally one liked +to have something better than a handspike to do it with. Still--In the +pause Carter seemed to weigh with composure the chances of men with +handspikes. + +"What do you want to fight us for?" he asked, suddenly. + +Lingard started. + +"I don't," he said; "I wouldn't be asking you." + +"There's no saying what you would do, Captain," replied Carter; "it +isn't twenty-four hours since you wanted to shoot me." + +"I only said I would, rather than let you go raising trouble for me," +explained Lingard. + +"One night isn't like another," mumbled Carter, "but how am I to know? +It seems to me you are making trouble for yourself as fast as you can." + +"Well, supposing I am," said Lingard with sudden gloominess. "Would your +men fight if I armed them properly?" + +"What--for you or for themselves?" asked Carter. + +"For the woman," burst out Lingard. "You forget there's a woman on +board. I don't care _that_ for their carcases." + +Carter pondered conscientiously. + +"Not to-night," he said at last. "There's one or two good men amongst +them, but the rest are struck all of a heap. Not to-night. Give them +time to get steady a bit if you want them to fight." + +He gave facts and opinions with a mixture of loyalty and mistrust. His +own state puzzled him exceedingly. He couldn't make out anything, he did +not know what to believe and yet he had an impulsive desire, an inspired +desire to help the man. At times it appeared a necessity--at others +policy; between whiles a great folly, which perhaps did not matter +because he suspected himself of being helpless anyway. Then he had +moments of anger. In those moments he would feel in his pocket the +butt of a loaded pistol. He had provided himself with the weapon, when +directed by Mrs. Travers to go on board the brig. + +"If he wants to interfere with me, I'll let drive at him and take my +chance of getting away," he had explained hurriedly. + +He remembered how startled Mrs. Travers looked. Of course, a woman like +that--not used to hear such talk. Therefore it was no use listening to +her, except for good manners' sake. Once bit twice shy. He had no mind +to be kidnapped, not he, nor bullied either. + +"I can't let him nab me, too. You will want me now, Mrs. Travers," he +had said; "and I promise you not to fire off the old thing unless he +jolly well forces me to." + +He was youthfully wise in his resolution not to give way to her +entreaties, though her extraordinary agitation did stagger him for a +moment. When the boat was already on its way to the brig, he remembered +her calling out after him: + +"You must not! You don't understand." + +Her voice coming faintly in the darkness moved him, it resembled so much +a cry of distress. + +"Give way, boys, give way," he urged his men. + +He was wise, resolute, and he was also youthful enough to almost wish +it should "come to it." And with foresight he even instructed the boat's +crew to keep the gig just abaft the main rigging of the brig. + +"When you see me drop into her all of a sudden, shove off and pull for +dear life." + +Somehow just then he was not so anxious for a shot, but he held on with +a determined mental grasp to his fine resolution, lest it should slip +away from him and perish in a sea of doubts. + +"Hadn't I better get back to the yacht?" he asked, gently. + +Getting no answer he went on with deliberation: + +"Mrs. Travers ordered me to say that no matter how this came about +she is ready to trust you. She is waiting for some kind of answer, I +suppose." + +"Ready to trust me," repeated Lingard. His eyes lit up fiercely. + +Every sway of flares tossed slightly to and fro the massy shadows of +the main deck, where here and there the figure of a man could be seen +standing very still with a dusky face and glittering eyeballs. + +Carter stole his hand warily into his breast pocket: + +"Well, Captain," he said. He was not going to be bullied, let the +owner's wife trust whom she liked. + +"Have you got anything in writing for me there?" asked Lingard, +advancing a pace, exultingly. + +Carter, alert, stepped back to keep his distance. Shaw stared from the +side; his rubicund cheeks quivered, his round eyes seemed starting out +of his head, and his mouth was open as though he had been ready to choke +with pent-up curiosity, amazement, and indignation. + +"No! Not in writing," said Carter, steadily and low. + +Lingard had the air of being awakened by a shout. A heavy and darkening +frown seemed to fall out of the night upon his forehead and swiftly +passed into the night again, and when it departed it left him so calm, +his glance so lucid, his mien so composed that it was difficult to +believe the man's heart had undergone within the last second the trial +of humiliation and of danger. He smiled sadly: + +"Well, young man," he asked with a kind of good-humoured resignation, +"what is it you have there? A knife or a pistol?" + +"A pistol," said Carter. "Are you surprised, Captain?" He spoke with +heat because a sense of regret was stealing slowly within him, as +stealthily, as irresistibly as the flowing tide. "Who began these +tricks?" He withdrew his hand, empty, and raised his voice. "You are up +to something I can't make out. You--you are not straight." + +The flares held on high streamed right up without swaying, and in that +instant of profound calm the shadows on the brig's deck became as still +as the men. + +"You think not?" said Lingard, thoughtfully. + +Carter nodded. He resented the turn of the incident and the growing +impulse to surrender to that man. + +"Mrs. Travers trusts me though," went on Lingard with gentle triumph as +if advancing an unanswerable argument. + +"So she says," grunted Carter; "I warned her. She's a baby. They're all +as innocent as babies there. And you know it. And I know it. I've heard +of your kind. You would dump the lot of us overboard if it served your +turn. That's what I think." + +"And that's all." + +Carter nodded slightly and looked away. There was a silence. Lingard's +eyes travelled over the brig. The lighted part of the vessel appeared in +bright and wavering detail walled and canopied by the night. He felt a +light breath on his face. The air was stirring, but the Shallows, silent +and lost in the darkness, gave no sound of life. + +This stillness oppressed Lingard. The world of his endeavours and his +hopes seemed dead, seemed gone. His desire existed homeless in the +obscurity that had devoured his corner of the sea, this stretch of the +coast, his certitude of success. And here in the midst of what was the +domain of his adventurous soul there was a lost youngster ready to shoot +him on suspicion of some extravagant treachery. Came ready to shoot! +That's good, too! He was too weary to laugh--and perhaps too sad. Also +the danger of the pistol-shot, which he believed real--the young are +rash--irritated him. The night and the spot were full of contradictions. +It was impossible to say who in this shadowy warfare was to be an enemy, +and who were the allies. So close were the contacts issuing from this +complication of a yachting voyage, that he seemed to have them all +within his breast. + +"Shoot me! He is quite up to that trick--damn him. Yet I would trust him +sooner than any man in that yacht." + +Such were his thoughts while he looked at Carter, who was biting his +lips, in the vexation of the long silence. When they spoke again to each +other they talked soberly, with a sense of relief, as if they had come +into cool air from an overheated room and when Carter, dismissed, went +into his boat, he had practically agreed to the line of action traced +by Lingard for the crew of the yacht. He had agreed as if in implicit +confidence. It was one of the absurdities of the situation which had to +be accepted and could never be understood. + +"Do I talk straight now?" had asked Lingard. + +"It seems straight enough," assented Carter with an air of reserve; "I +will work with you so far anyhow." + +"Mrs. Travers trusts me," remarked Lingard again. + +"By the Lord Harry!" cried Carter, giving way suddenly to some latent +conviction. "I was warning her against you. Say, Captain, you are a +devil of a man. How did you manage it?" + +"I trusted her," said Lingard. + +"Did you?" cried the amazed Carter. "When? How? Where--" + +"You know too much already," retorted Lingard, quietly. "Waste no time. +I will be after you." + +Carter whistled low. + +"There's a pair of you I can't make out," he called back, hurrying over +the side. + +Shaw took this opportunity to approach. Beginning with hesitation: "A +word with you, sir," the mate went on to say he was a respectable man. +He delivered himself in a ringing, unsteady voice. He was married, he +had children, he abhorred illegality. The light played about his obese +figure, he had flung his mushroom hat on the deck, he was not afraid to +speak the truth. The grey moustache stood out aggressively, his glances +were uneasy; he pressed his hands to his stomach convulsively, opened +his thick, short arms wide, wished it to be understood he had been +chief-officer of home ships, with a spotless character and he hoped +"quite up to his work." He was a peaceable man, none more; disposed +to stretch a point when it "came to a difference with niggers of some +kind--they had to be taught manners and reason" and he was not averse at +a pinch to--but here were white people--gentlemen, ladies, not to speak +of the crew. He had never spoken to a superior like this before, +and this was prudence, his conviction, a point of view, a point of +principle, a conscious superiority and a burst of resentment hoarded +through years against all the successive and unsatisfactory captains of +his existence. There never had been such an opportunity to show he could +not be put upon. He had one of them on a string and he was going to lead +him a dance. There was courage, too, in it, since he believed himself +fallen unawares into the clutches of a particularly desperate man and +beyond the reach of law. + +A certain small amount of calculation entered the audacity of his +remonstrance. Perhaps--it flashed upon him--the yacht's gentry will hear +I stood up for them. This could conceivably be of advantage to a man +who wanted a lift in the world. "Owner of a yacht--badly scared--a +gentleman--money nothing to him." Thereupon Shaw declared with heat that +he couldn't be an accessory either after or before the fact. Those +that never went home--who had nothing to go to perhaps--he interjected, +hurriedly, could do as they liked. He couldn't. He had a wife, a +family, a little house--paid for--with difficulty. He followed the sea +respectably out and home, all regular, not vagabonding here and there, +chumming with the first nigger that came along and laying traps for his +betters. + +One of the two flare bearers sighed at his elbow, and shifted his weight +to the other foot. + +These two had been keeping so perfectly still that the movement was +as startling as if a statue had changed its pose. After looking at the +offender with cold malevolence, Shaw went on to speak of law-courts, +of trials, and of the liberty of the subject; then he pointed out the +certitude and the inconvenience of being found out, affecting for the +moment the dispassionateness of wisdom. + +"There will be fifteen years in gaol at the end of this job for +everybody," said Shaw, "and I have a boy that don't know his father yet. +Fine things for him to learn when he grows up. The innocent are dead +certain here to catch it along with you. The missus will break her heart +unless she starves first. Home sold up." + +He saw a mysterious iniquity in a dangerous relation to himself and +began to lose his head. What he really wanted was to have his +existence left intact, for his own cherishing and pride. It was a moral +aspiration, but in his alarm the native grossness of his nature came +clattering out like a devil out of a trap. He would blow the gaff, +split, give away the whole show, he would back up honest people, kiss +the book, say what he thought, let all the world know . . . and when he +paused to draw breath, all around him was silent and still. Before the +impetus of that respectable passion his words were scattered like chaff +driven by a gale and rushed headlong into the night of the Shallows. And +in the great obscurity, imperturbable, it heard him say he "washed his +hands of everything." + +"And the brig?" asked Lingard, suddenly. + +Shaw was checked. For a second the seaman in him instinctively admitted +the claim of the ship. + +"The brig. The brig. She's right enough," he mumbled. He had nothing to +say against the brig--not he. She wasn't like the big ships he was used +to, but of her kind the best craft he ever. . . . And with a brusque +return upon himself, he protested that he had been decoyed on board +under false pretences. It was as bad as being shanghaied when in liquor. +It was--upon his soul. And into a craft next thing to a pirate! That +was the name for it or his own name was not Shaw. He said this glaring +owlishly. Lingard, perfectly still and mute, bore the blows without a +sign. + +The silly fuss of that man seared his very soul. There was no end to +this plague of fools coming to him from the forgotten ends of the earth. +A fellow like that could not be told. No one could be told. Blind they +came and blind they would go out. He admitted reluctantly, but without +doubt, that as if pushed by a force from outside he would have to +try and save two of them. To this end he foresaw the probable need of +leaving his brig for a time. He would have to leave her with that man. +The mate. He had engaged him himself--to make his insurance valid--to be +able sometimes to speak--to have near him. Who would have believed such +a fool-man could exist on the face of the sea! Who? Leave the brig with +him. The brig! + +Ever since sunset, the breeze kept off by the heat of the day had been +trying to re-establish in the darkness its sway over the Shoals. Its +approaches had been heard in the night, its patient murmurs, its foiled +sighs; but now a surprisingly heavy puff came in a free rush as if, +far away there to the northward, the last defence of the calm had +been victoriously carried. The flames borne down streamed bluishly, +horizontal and noisy at the end of tall sticks, like fluttering +pennants; and behold, the shadows on the deck went mad and jostled each +other as if trying to escape from a doomed craft, the darkness, held +up dome-like by the brilliant glare, seemed to tumble headlong upon the +brig in an overwhelming downfall, the men stood swaying as if ready +to fall under the ruins of a black and noiseless disaster. The blurred +outlines of the brig, the masts, the rigging, seemed to shudder in the +terror of coming extinction--and then the darkness leaped upward again, +the shadows returned to their places, the men were seen distinct, +swarthy, with calm faces, with glittering eyeballs. The destruction in +the breath had passed, was gone. + +A discord of three voices raised together in a drawling wail trailed on +the sudden immobility of the air. + +"Brig ahoy! Give us a rope!" + +The first boat-load from the yacht emerged floating slowly into the +pool of purple light wavering round the brig on the black water. Two men +squeezed in the bows pulled uncomfortably; in the middle, on a heap of +seamen's canvas bags, another sat, insecure, propped with both arms, +stiff-legged, angularly helpless. The light from the poop brought +everything out in lurid detail, and the boat floating slowly toward the +brig had a suspicious and pitiful aspect. The shabby load lumbering +her looked somehow as if it had been stolen by those men who resembled +castaways. In the sternsheets Carter, standing up, steered with his leg. +He had a smile of youthful sarcasm. + +"Here they are!" he cried to Lingard. "You've got your own way, Captain. +I thought I had better come myself with the first precious lot--" + +"Pull around the stern. The brig's on the swing," interrupted Lingard. + +"Aye, aye! We'll try not to smash the brig. We would be lost indeed +if--fend off there, John; fend off, old reliable, if you care a pin +for your salty hide. I like the old chap," he said, when he stood by +Lingard's side looking down at the boat which was being rapidly cleared +by whites and Malays working shoulder to shoulder in silence. "I like +him. He don't belong to that yachting lot either. They picked him up +on the road somewhere. Look at the old dog--carved out of a ship's +timber--as talkative as a fish--grim as a gutted wreck. That's the man +for me. All the others there are married, or going to be, or ought +to be, or sorry they ain't. Every man jack of them has a petticoat in +tow--dash me! Never heard in all my travels such a jabber about wives +and kids. Hurry up with your dunnage--below there! Aye! I had no +difficulty in getting them to clear out from the yacht. They never saw +a pair of gents stolen before--you understand. It upset all their little +notions of what a stranding means, hereabouts. Not that mine aren't +mixed a bit, too--and yet I've seen a thing or two." + +His excitement was revealed in this boyish impulse to talk. + +"Look," he said, pointing at the growing pile of bags and bedding on the +brig's quarter-deck. "Look. Don't they mean to sleep soft--and dream of +home--maybe. Home. Think of that, Captain. These chaps can't get clear +away from it. It isn't like you and me--" + +Lingard made a movement. + +"I ran away myself when so high. My old man's a Trinity pilot. That's a +job worth staying at home for. Mother writes sometimes, but they can't +miss me much. There's fourteen of us altogether--eight at home yet. No +fear of the old country ever getting undermanned--let die who must. Only +let it be a fair game, Captain. Let's have a fair show." + +Lingard assured him briefly he should have it. That was the very reason +he wanted the yacht's crew in the brig, he added. Then quiet and grave +he inquired whether that pistol was still in Carter's pocket. + +"Never mind that," said the young man, hurriedly. "Remember who began. +To be shot at wouldn't rile me so much--it's being threatened, don't you +see, that was heavy on my chest. Last night is very far off though--and +I will be hanged if I know what I meant exactly when I took the old +thing from its nail. There. More I can't say till all's settled one way +or another. Will that do?" + +Flushing brick red, he suspended his judgment and stayed his hand with +the generosity of youth. + +. . . . . . . + +Apparently it suited Lingard to be reprieved in that form. He bowed +his head slowly. It would do. To leave his life to that youngster's +ignorance seemed to redress the balance of his mind against a lot of +secret intentions. It was distasteful and bitter as an expiation should +be. He also held a life in his hand; a life, and many deaths besides, +but these were like one single feather in the scales of his conscience. +That he should feel so was unavoidable because his strength would at no +price permit itself to be wasted. It would not be--and there was an +end of it. All he could do was to throw in another risk into the sea +of risks. Thus was he enabled to recognize that a drop of water in +the ocean makes a great difference. His very desire, unconquered, but +exiled, had left the place where he could constantly hear its voice. He +saw it, he saw himself, the past, the future, he saw it all, shifting +and indistinct like those shapes the strained eye of a wanderer outlines +in darker strokes upon the face of the night. + + + +X + +When Lingard went to his boat to follow Carter, who had gone back to the +yacht, Wasub, mast and sail on shoulder, preceded him down the ladder. +The old man leaped in smartly and busied himself in getting the dinghy +ready for his commander. + +In that little boat Lingard was accustomed to traverse the Shallows +alone. She had a short mast and a lug-sail, carried two easily, floated +in a few inches of water. In her he was independent of a crew, and, if +the wind failed, could make his way with a pair of sculls taking short +cuts over shoal places. There were so many islets and sandbanks that in +case of sudden bad weather there was always a lee to be found, and when +he wished to land he could pull her up a beach, striding ahead, painter +in hand, like a giant child dragging a toy boat. When the brig was +anchored within the Shallows it was in her that he visited the lagoon. +Once, when caught by a sudden freshening of the sea-breeze, he had waded +up a shelving bank carrying her on his head and for two days they had +rested together on the sand, while around them the shallow waters raged +lividly, and across three miles of foam the brig would time after time +dissolve in the mist and re-appear distinct, nodding her tall spars that +seemed to touch a weeping sky of lamentable greyness. + +Whenever he came into the lagoon tugging with bare arms, Jorgenson, +who would be watching the entrance of the creek ever since a muffled +detonation of a gun to seaward had warned him of the brig's arrival on +the Shore of Refuge, would mutter to himself--"Here's Tom coming in his +nutshell." And indeed she was in shape somewhat like half a nutshell and +also in the colour of her dark varnished planks. The man's shoulders and +head rose high above her gunwales; loaded with Lingard's heavy frame she +would climb sturdily the steep ridges, slide squatting into the hollows +of the sea, or, now and then, take a sedate leap over a short wave. Her +behaviour had a stout trustworthiness about it, and she reminded one of +a surefooted mountain-pony carrying over difficult ground a rider much +bigger than himself. + +Wasub wiped the thwarts, ranged the mast and sail along the side, +shipped the rowlocks. Lingard looked down at his old servant's spare +shoulders upon which the light from above fell unsteady but vivid. Wasub +worked for the comfort of his commander and his singleminded absorption +in that task flashed upon Lingard the consolation of an act of +friendliness. The elderly Malay at last lifted his head with a +deferential murmur; his wrinkled old face with half a dozen wiry hairs +pendulous at each corner of the dark lips expressed a kind of weary +satisfaction, and the slightly oblique worn eyes stole a discreet upward +glance containing a hint of some remote meaning. Lingard found himself +compelled by the justice of that obscure claim to murmur as he stepped +into the boat: + +"These are times of danger." + +He sat down and took up the sculls. Wasub held on to the gunwale as to a +last hope of a further confidence. He had served in the brig five years. +Lingard remembered that very well. This aged figure had been intimately +associated with the brig's life and with his own, appearing silently +ready for every incident and emergency in an unquestioning expectation +of orders; symbolic of blind trust in his strength, of an unlimited +obedience to his will. Was it unlimited? + +"We shall require courage and fidelity," added Lingard, in a tentative +tone. + +"There are those who know me," snapped the old man, readily, as if the +words had been waiting for a long time. "Observe, Tuan. I have filled +with fresh water the little breaker in the bows." + +"I know you, too," said Lingard. + +"And the wind--and the sea," ejaculated the serang, jerkily. "These +also are faithful to the strong. By Allah! I who am a pilgrim and have +listened to words of wisdom in many places, I tell you, Tuan, there is +strength in the knowledge of what is hidden in things without life, as +well as in the living men. Will Tuan be gone long?" + +"I come back in a short time--together with the rest of the whites from +over there. This is the beginning of many stratagems. Wasub! Daman, the +son of a dog, has suddenly made prisoners two of my own people. My face +is made black." + +"Tse! Tse! What ferocity is that! One should not offer shame to a friend +or to a friend's brother lest revenge come sweeping like a flood. Yet +can an Illanun chief be other than tyrannical? My old eyes have seen +much but they never saw a tiger change its stripes. Ya-wa! The tiger can +not. This is the wisdom of us ignorant Malay men. The wisdom of white +Tuans is great. They think that by the power of many speeches the tiger +may--" He broke off and in a crisp, busy tone said: "The rudder dwells +safely under the aftermost seat should Tuan be pleased to sail the boat. +This breeze will not die away before sunrise." Again his voice changed +as if two different souls had been flitting in and out of his body. "No, +no, kill the tiger and then the stripes may be counted without fear--one +by one, thus." + +He pointed a frail brown finger and, abruptly, made a mirthless dry +sound as if a rattle had been sprung in his throat. + +"The wretches are many," said Lingard. + +"Nay, Tuan. They follow their great men even as we in the brig follow +you. That is right." + +Lingard reflected for a moment. + +"My men will follow me then," he said. + +"They are poor calashes without sense," commented Wasub with pitying +superiority. "Some with no more comprehension than men of the bush +freshly caught. There is Sali, the foolish son of my sister and by your +great favour appointed to mind the tiller of this ship. His stupidity is +extreme, but his eyes are good--nearly as good as mine that by praying +and much exercise can see far into the night." + +Lingard laughed low and then looked earnestly at the serang. Above their +heads a man shook a flare over the side and a thin shower of sparks +floated downward and expired before touching the water. + +"So you can see in the night, O serang! Well, then, look and speak. +Speak! Fight--or no fight? Weapons or words? Which folly? Well, what do +you see?" + +"A darkness, a darkness," whispered Wasub at last in a frightened tone. +"There are nights--" He shook his head and muttered. "Look. The tide has +turned. Ya, Tuan. The tide has turned." + +Lingard looked downward where the water could be seen, gliding past the +ship's side, moving smoothly, streaked with lines of froth, across the +illumined circle thrown round the brig by the lights on her poop. +Air bubbles sparkled, lines of darkness, ripples of glitter appeared, +glided, went astern without a splash, without a trickle, without a +plaint, without a break. The unchecked gentleness of the flow captured +the eye by a subtle spell, fastened insidiously upon the mind a +disturbing sense of the irretrievable. The ebbing of the sea athwart the +lonely sheen of flames resembled the eternal ebb-tide of time; and when +at last Lingard looked up, the knowledge of that noiseless passage of +the waters produced on his mind a bewildering effect. For a moment the +speck of light lost in vast obscurity the brig, the boat, the hidden +coast, the Shallows, the very walls and roof of darkness--the seen +and the unseen alike seemed to be gliding smoothly onward through the +enormous gloom of space. Then, with a great mental effort, he brought +everything to a sudden standstill; and only the froth and bubbles went +on streaming past ceaselessly, unchecked by the power of his will. + +"The tide has turned--you say, serang? Has it--? Well, perhaps it has, +perhaps it has," he finished, muttering to himself. + +"Truly it has. Can not Tuan see it run under his own eyes?" said Wasub +with an alarmed earnestness. "Look. Now it is in my mind that a prau +coming from amongst the southern islands, if steered cunningly in the +free set of the current, would approach the bows of this, our brig, +drifting silently as a shape without a substance." + +"And board suddenly--is that it?" said Lingard. + +"Daman is crafty and the Illanuns are very bloodthirsty. Night is +nothing to them. They are certainly valorous. Are they not born in the +midst of fighting and are they not inspired by the evil of their hearts +even before they can speak? And their chiefs would be leading them while +you, Tuan, are going from us even now--" + +"You don't want me to go?" asked Lingard. + +For a time Wasub listened attentively to the profound silence. + +"Can we fight without a leader?" he began again. "It is the belief in +victory that gives courage. And what would poor calashes do, sons of +peasants and fishermen, freshly caught--without knowledge? They believe +in your strength--and in your power--or else--Will those whites that +came so suddenly avenge you? They are here like fish within the stakes. +Ya-wa! Who will bring the news and who will come to find the truth and +perchance to carry off your body? You go alone, Tuan!" + +"There must be no fighting. It would be a calamity," insisted Lingard. +"There is blood that must not be spilt." + +"Hear, Tuan!" exclaimed Wasub with heat. "The waters are running out +now." He punctuated his speech by slight jerks at the dinghy. "The +waters go and at the appointed time they shall return. And if between +their going and coming the blood of all the men in the world were poured +into it, the sea would not rise higher at the full by the breadth of my +finger nail." + +"But the world would not be the same. You do not see that, serang. Give +the boat a good shove." + +"Directly," said the old Malay and his face became impassive. "Tuan +knows when it is best to go, and death sometimes retreats before a firm +tread like a startled snake. Tuan should take a follower with him, not +a silly youth, but one who has lived--who has a steady heart--who would +walk close behind watchfully--and quietly. Yes. Quietly and with quick +eyes--like mine--perhaps with a weapon--I know how to strike." + +Lingard looked at the wrinkled visage very near his own and into the +peering old eyes. They shone strangely. A tense eagerness was expressed +in the squatting figure leaning out toward him. On the other +side, within reach of his arm, the night stood like a wall +-discouraging--opaque--impenetrable. No help would avail. The darkness +he had to combat was too impalpable to be cleft by a blow--too dense to +be pierced by the eye; yet as if by some enchantment in the words that +made this vain offer of fidelity, it became less overpowering to his +sight, less crushing to his thought. He had a moment of pride which +soothed his heart for the space of two beats. His unreasonable and +misjudged heart, shrinking before the menace of failure, expanded freely +with a sense of generous gratitude. In the threatening dimness of his +emotions this man's offer made a point of clearness, the glimmer of +a torch held aloft in the night. It was priceless, no doubt, but +ineffectual; too small, too far, too solitary. It did not dispel the +mysterious obscurity that had descended upon his fortunes so that his +eyes could no longer see the work of his hands. The sadness of defeat +pervaded the world. + +"And what could you do, O Wasub?" he said. + +"I could always call out--'Take care, Tuan.'" + +"And then for these charm-words of mine. Hey? Turn danger aside? What? +But perchance you would die all the same. Treachery is a strong magic, +too--as you said." + +"Yes, indeed! The order might come to your servant. But I--Wasub--the +son of a free man, a follower of Rajahs, a fugitive, a slave, a +pilgrim--diver for pearls, serang of white men's ships, I have had too +many masters. Too many. You are the last." After a silence he said in an +almost indifferent voice: "If you go, Tuan, let us go together." + +For a time Lingard made no sound. + +"No use," he said at last. "No use, serang. One life is enough to pay +for a man's folly--and you have a household." + +"I have two--Tuan; but it is a long time since I sat on the ladder of +a house to talk at ease with neighbours. Yes. Two households; one in--" +Lingard smiled faintly. "Tuan, let me follow you." + +"No. You have said it, serang--I am alone. That is true, and alone I +shall go on this very night. But first I must bring all the white people +here. Push." + +"Ready, Tuan? Look out!" + +Wasub's body swung over the sea with extended arms. Lingard caught up +the sculls, and as the dinghy darted away from the brig's side he had +a complete view of the lighted poop--Shaw leaning massively over the +taffrail in sulky dejection, the flare bearers erect and rigid, the +heads along the rail, the eyes staring after him above the bulwarks. The +fore-end of the brig was wrapped in a lurid and sombre mistiness; the +sullen mingling of darkness and of light; her masts pointing straight up +could be tracked by torn gleams and vanished above as if the trucks +had been tall enough to pierce the heavy mass of vapours motionless +overhead. She was beautifully precious. His loving eyes saw her floating +at rest in a wavering halo, between an invisible sky and an invisible +sea, like a miraculous craft suspended in the air. He turned his +head away as if the sight had been too much for him at the moment of +separation, and, as soon as his little boat had passed beyond the limit +of the light thrown upon the water, he perceived very low in the black +void of the west the stern lantern of the yacht shining feebly like a +star about to set, unattainable, infinitely remote--belonging to another +universe. + + + +PART IV. THE GIFT OF THE SHALLOWS + +I + +Lingard brought Mrs. Travers away from the yacht, going alone with her +in the little boat. During the bustle of the embarkment, and till the +last of the crew had left the schooner, he had remained towering and +silent by her side. It was only when the murmuring and uneasy voices +of the sailors going away in the boats had been completely lost in the +distance that his voice was heard, grave in the silence, pronouncing the +words--"Follow me." She followed him; their footsteps rang hollow and +loud on the empty deck. At the bottom of the steps he turned round and +said very low: + +"Take care." + +He got into the boat and held on. It seemed to him that she was +intimidated by the darkness. She felt her arm gripped firmly--"I've got +you," he said. She stepped in, headlong, trusting herself blindly to his +grip, and sank on the stern seat catching her breath a little. She heard +a slight splash, and the indistinct side of the deserted yacht melted +suddenly into the body of the night. + +Rowing, he faced her, a hooded and cloaked shape, and above her head he +had before his eyes the gleam of the stern lantern expiring slowly on +the abandoned vessel. When it went out without a warning flicker he +could see nothing of the stranded yacht's outline. She had vanished +utterly like a dream; and the occurrences of the last twenty-four hours +seemed also to be a part of a vanished dream. The hooded and cloaked +figure was part of it, too. It spoke not; it moved not; it would vanish +presently. Lingard tried to remember Mrs. Travers' features, even as +she sat within two feet of him in the boat. He seemed to have taken +from that vanished schooner not a woman but a memory--the tormenting +recollection of a human being he would see no more. + +At every stroke of the short sculls Mrs. Travers felt the boat leap +forward with her. Lingard, to keep his direction, had to look over his +shoulder frequently--"You will be safe in the brig," he said. She was +silent. A dream! A dream! He lay back vigorously; the water slapped +loudly against the blunt bows. The ruddy glow thrown afar by the flares +was reflected deep within the hood. The dream had a pale visage, the +memory had living eyes. + +"I had to come for you myself," he said. + +"I expected it of you." These were the first words he had heard her say +since they had met for the third time. + +"And I swore--before you, too--that I would never put my foot on board +your craft." + +"It was good of you to--" she began. + +"I forgot somehow," he said, simply. + +"I expected it of you," she repeated. He gave three quick strokes before +he asked very gently: + +"What more do you expect?" + +"Everything," she said. He was rounding then the stern of the brig and +had to look away. Then he turned to her. + +"And you trust me to--" he exclaimed. + +"I would like to trust you," she interrupted, "because--" + +Above them a startled voice cried in Malay, "Captain coming." The +strange sound silenced her. Lingard laid in his sculls and she saw +herself gliding under the high side of the brig. A dark, staring face +appeared very near her eyes, black fingers caught the gunwale of the +boat. She stood up swaying. "Take care," said Lingard again, but this +time, in the light, did not offer to help her. She went up alone and he +followed her over the rail. + +The quarter-deck was thronged by men of two races. Lingard and Mrs. +Travers crossed it rapidly between the groups that moved out of the +way on their passage. Lingard threw open the cabin door for her, but +remained on deck to inquire about his boats. They had returned while he +was on board the yacht, and the two men in charge of them came aft to +make their reports. The boat sent north had seen nothing. The boat +which had been directed to explore the banks and islets to the south had +actually been in sight of Daman's praus. The man in charge reported +that several fires were burning on the shore, the crews of the two praus +being encamped on a sandbank. Cooking was going on. They had been near +enough to hear the voices. There was a man keeping watch on the ridge; +they knew this because they heard him shouting to the people below, by +the fires. Lingard wanted to know how they had managed to remain unseen. +"The night was our hiding place," answered the man in his deep growling +voice. He knew nothing of any white men being in Daman's camp. Why +should there be? Rajah Hassim and the Lady, his sister, appeared +unexpectedly near his boat in their canoe. Rajah Hassim had ordered him +then in whispers to go back to the brig at once, and tell Tuan what he +had observed. Rajah Hassim said also that he would return to the brig +with more news very soon. He obeyed because the Rajah was to him a +person of authority, "having the perfect knowledge of Tuan's mind as we +all know."--"Enough," cried Lingard, suddenly. + +The man looked up heavily for a moment, and retreated forward without +another word. Lingard followed him with irritated eyes. A new power had +come into the world, had possessed itself of human speech, had imparted +to it a sinister irony of allusion. To be told that someone had "a +perfect knowledge of his mind" startled him and made him wince. It made +him aware that now he did not know his mind himself--that it seemed +impossible for him ever to regain that knowledge. And the new power not +only had cast its spell upon the words he had to hear, but also upon the +facts that assailed him, upon the people he saw, upon the thoughts he +had to guide, upon the feelings he had to bear. They remained what +they had ever been--the visible surface of life open in the sun to the +conquering tread of an unfettered will. Yesterday they could have been +discerned clearly, mastered and despised; but now another power had come +into the world, and had cast over them all the wavering gloom of a dark +and inscrutable purpose. + + + +II + +Recovering himself with a slight start Lingard gave the order to +extinguish all the lights in the brig. Now the transfer of the crew from +the yacht had been effected there was every advantage in the darkness. +He gave the order from instinct, it being the right thing to do in the +circumstances. His thoughts were in the cabin of his brig, where there +was a woman waiting. He put his hand over his eyes, collecting himself +as if before a great mental effort. He could hear about him the excited +murmurs of the white men whom in the morning he had so ardently desired +to have safe in his keeping. He had them there now; but accident, +ill-luck, a cursed folly, had tricked him out of the success of his +plan. He would have to go in and talk to Mrs. Travers. The idea dismayed +him. Of necessity he was not one of those men who have the mastery of +expression. To liberate his soul was for him a gigantic undertaking, +a matter of desperate effort, of doubtful success. "I must have it +out with her," he murmured to himself as though at the prospect of +a struggle. He was uncertain of himself, of her; he was uncertain of +everything and everybody; but he was very certain he wanted to look at +her. + +At the moment he turned to the door of the cabin both flares went out +together and the black vault of the night upheld above the brig by the +fierce flames fell behind him and buried the deck in sudden darkness. +The buzz of strange voices instantly hummed louder with a startled note. +"Hallo!"--"Can't see a mortal thing"--"Well, what next?"--insisted a +voice--"I want to know what next?" + +Lingard checked himself ready to open the door and waited absurdly for +the answer as though in the hope of some suggestion. "What's up with +you? Think yourself lucky," said somebody.--"It's all very well--for +to-night," began the voice.--"What are you fashing yourself for?" +remonstrated the other, reasonably, "we'll get home right enough."--"I +am not so sure; the second mate he says--" "Never mind what he says; +that 'ere man who has got this brig will see us through. The owner's +wife will talk to him--she will. Money can do a lot." The two voices +came nearer, and spoke more distinctly, close behind Lingard. "Suppose +them blooming savages set fire to the yacht. What's to prevent +them?"--"And suppose they do. This 'ere brig's good enough to get away +in. Ain't she? Guns and all. We'll get home yet all right. What do you +say, John?" + +"I say nothing and care less," said a third voice, peaceful and faint. + +"D'you mean to say, John, you would go to the bottom as soon as you +would go home? Come now!"--"To the bottom," repeated the wan voice, +composedly. "Aye! That's where we all are going to, in one way or +another. The way don't matter." + +"Ough! You would give the blues to the funny man of a blooming circus. +What would my missus say if I wasn't to turn up never at all?"--"She +would get another man; there's always plenty of fools about." A quiet +and mirthless chuckle was heard in the pause of shocked silence. +Lingard, with his hand on the door, remained still. Further off a growl +burst out: "I do hate to be chucked in the dark aboard a strange ship. +I wonder where they keep their fresh water. Can't get any sense out of +them silly niggers. We don't seem to be more account here than a lot of +cattle. Likely as not we'll have to berth on this blooming quarter-deck +for God knows how long." Then again very near Lingard the first voice +said, deadened discreetly--"There's something curious about this here +brig turning up sudden-like, ain't there? And that skipper of her--now? +What kind of a man is he--anyhow?" + +"Oh, he's one of them skippers going about loose. The brig's his own, I +am thinking. He just goes about in her looking for what he may pick up +honest or dishonest. My brother-in-law has served two commissions in +these seas, and was telling me awful yarns about what's going on in them +God-forsaken parts. Likely he lied, though. Them man-of-war's men are +a holy terror for yarns. Bless you, what do I care who this skipper is? +Let him do his best and don't trouble your head. You won't see him again +in your life once we get clear." + +"And can he do anything for the owner?" asked the first voice +again.--"Can he! We can do nothing--that's one thing certain. The owner +may be lying clubbed to death this very minute for all we know. By all +accounts these savages here are a crool murdering lot. Mind you, I am +sorry for him as much as anybody."--"Aye, aye," muttered the other, +approvingly.--"He may not have been ready, poor man," began again the +reasonable voice. Lingard heard a deep sigh.--"If there's anything as +can be done for him, the owner's wife she's got to fix it up with this +'ere skipper. Under Providence he may serve her turn." + +Lingard flung open the cabin door, entered, and, with a slam, shut the +darkness out. + +"I am, under Providence, to serve your turn," he said after standing +very still for a while, with his eyes upon Mrs. Travers. The brig's +swing-lamp lighted the cabin with an extraordinary brilliance. Mrs. +Travers had thrown back her hood. The radiant brightness of the little +place enfolded her so close, clung to her with such force that it might +have been part of her very essence. There were no shadows on her face; +it was fiercely lighted, hermetically closed, of impenetrable fairness. + +Lingard looked in unconscious ecstasy at this vision, so amazing that it +seemed to have strayed into his existence from beyond the limits of +the conceivable. It was impossible to guess her thoughts, to know her +feelings, to understand her grief or her joy. But she knew all that +was at the bottom of his heart. He had told her himself, impelled by +a sudden thought, going to her in darkness, in desperation, in absurd +hope, in incredible trust. He had told her what he had told no one +on earth, except perhaps, at times, himself, but without words--less +clearly. He had told her and she had listened in silence. She had +listened leaning over the rail till at last her breath was on his +forehead. He remembered this and had a moment of soaring pride and of +unutterable dismay. He spoke, with an effort. + +"You've heard what I said just now? Here I am." + +"Do you expect me to say something?" she asked. "Is it necessary? Is it +possible?" + +"No," he answered. "It is said already. I know what you expect from me. +Everything." + +"Everything," she repeated, paused, and added much lower, "It is the +very least." He seemed to lose himself in thought. + +"It is extraordinary," he reflected half aloud, "how I dislike that +man." She leaned forward a little. + +"Remember those two men are innocent," she began. + +"So am I--innocent. So is everybody in the world. Have you ever met a +man or a woman that was not? They've got to take their chances all the +same." + +"I expect you to be generous," she said. + +"To you?" + +"Well--to me. Yes--if you like to me alone." + +"To you alone! And you know everything!" His voice dropped. "You want +your happiness." + +She made an impatient movement and he saw her clench the hand that was +lying on the table. + +"I want my husband back," she said, sharply. + +"Yes. Yes. It's what I was saying. Same thing," he muttered with strange +placidity. She looked at him searchingly. He had a large simplicity that +filled one's vision. She found herself slowly invaded by this masterful +figure. He was not mediocre. Whatever he might have been he was not +mediocre. The glamour of a lawless life stretched over him like the sky +over the sea down on all sides to an unbroken horizon. Within, he moved +very lonely, dangerous and romantic. There was in him crime, sacrifice, +tenderness, devotion, and the madness of a fixed idea. She thought with +wonder that of all the men in the world he was indeed the one she knew +the best and yet she could not foresee the speech or the act of the next +minute. She said distinctly: + +"You've given me your confidence. Now I want you to give me the life of +these two men. The life of two men whom you do not know, whom to-morrow +you will forget. It can be done. It must be done. You cannot refuse them +to me." She waited. + +"Why can't I refuse?" he whispered, gloomily, without looking up. + +"You ask!" she exclaimed. He made no sign. He seemed at a loss for +words. + +"You ask . . . Ah!" she cried. "Don't you see that I have no kingdoms to +conquer?" + + + +III + +A slight change of expression which passed away almost directly showed +that Lingard heard the passionate cry wrung from her by the distress of +her mind. He made no sign. She perceived clearly the extreme difficulty +of her position. The situation was dangerous; not so much the facts +of it as the feeling of it. At times it appeared no more actual than a +tradition; and she thought of herself as of some woman in a ballad, who +has to beg for the lives of innocent captives. To save the lives of Mr. +Travers and Mr. d'Alcacer was more than a duty. It was a necessity, it +was an imperative need, it was an irresistible mission. Yet she had to +reflect upon the horrors of a cruel and obscure death before she could +feel for them the pity they deserved. It was when she looked at Lingard +that her heart was wrung by an extremity of compassion. The others were +pitiful, but he, the victim of his own extravagant impulses, appeared +tragic, fascinating, and culpable. Lingard lifted his head. Whispers +were heard at the door and Hassim followed by Immada entered the cabin. + +Mrs. Travers looked at Lingard, because of all the faces in the cabin +his was the only one that was intelligible to her. Hassim began to speak +at once, and when he ceased Immada's deep sigh was heard in the sudden +silence. Then Lingard looked at Mrs. Travers and said: + +"The gentlemen are alive. Rajah Hassim here has seen them less than two +hours ago, and so has the girl. They are alive and unharmed, so far. And +now. . . ." + +He paused. Mrs. Travers, leaning on her elbow, shaded her eyes under the +glint of suspended thunderbolts. + +"You must hate us," she murmured. + +"Hate you," he repeated with, as she fancied, a tinge of disdain in his +tone. "No. I hate myself." + +"Why yourself?" she asked, very low. + +"For not knowing my mind," he answered. "For not knowing my mind. For +not knowing what it is that's got hold of me since--since this morning. +I was angry then. . . . Nothing but very angry. . . ." + +"And now?" she murmured. + +"I am . . . unhappy," he said. After a moment of silence which gave to +Mrs. Travers the time to wonder how it was that this man had succeeded +in penetrating into the very depths of her compassion, he hit the table +such a blow that all the heavy muskets seemed to jump a little. + +Mrs. Travers heard Hassim pronounce a few words earnestly, and a moan of +distress from Immada. + +"I believed in you before you . . . before you gave me your confidence," +she began. "You could see that. Could you not?" + +He looked at her fixedly. "You are not the first that believed in me," +he said. + +Hassim, lounging with his back against the closed door, kept his eye on +him watchfully and Immada's dark and sorrowful eyes rested on the face +of the white woman. Mrs. Travers felt as though she were engaged in +a contest with them; in a struggle for the possession of that man's +strength and of that man's devotion. When she looked up at Lingard she +saw on his face--which should have been impassive or exalted, the face +of a stern leader or the face of a pitiless dreamer--an expression +of utter forgetfulness. He seemed to be tasting the delight of some +profound and amazing sensation. And suddenly in the midst of her appeal +to his generosity, in the middle of a phrase, Mrs. Travers faltered, +becoming aware that she was the object of his contemplation. + +"Do not! Do not look at that woman!" cried Immada. "O! Master--look +away. . . ." Hassim threw one arm round the girl's neck. Her voice sank. +"O! Master--look at us." Hassim, drawing her to himself, covered her +lips with his hand. She struggled a little like a snared bird and +submitted, hiding her face on his shoulder, very quiet, sobbing without +noise. + +"What do they say to you?" asked Mrs. Travers with a faint and pained +smile. "What can they say? It is intolerable to think that their words +which have no meaning for me may go straight to your heart. . . ." + +"Look away," whispered Lingard without making the slightest movement. + +Mrs. Travers sighed. + +"Yes, it is very hard to think that I who want to touch you cannot make +myself understood as well as they. And yet I speak the language of your +childhood, the language of the man for whom there is no hope but in your +generosity." + +He shook his head. She gazed at him anxiously for a moment. "In your +memories then," she said and was surprised by the expression of profound +sadness that over-spread his attentive face. + +"Do you know what I remember?" he said. "Do you want to know?" She +listened with slightly parted lips. "I will tell you. Poverty, hard +work--and death," he went on, very quietly. "And now I've told you, and +you don't know. That's how it is between us. You talk to me--I talk to +you--and we don't know." + +Her eyelids dropped. + +"What can I find to say?" she went on. "What can I do? I mustn't +give in. Think! Amongst your memories there must be some face--some +voice--some name, if nothing more. I can not believe that there is +nothing but bitterness." + +"There's no bitterness," he murmured. + +"O! Brother, my heart is faint with fear," whispered Immada. Lingard +turned swiftly to that whisper. + +"Then, they are to be saved," exclaimed Mrs. Travers. "Ah, I knew. . . ." + +"Bear thy fear in patience," said Hassim, rapidly, to his sister. + +"They are to be saved. You have said it," Lingard pronounced aloud, +suddenly. He felt like a swimmer who, in the midst of superhuman efforts +to reach the shore, perceives that the undertow is taking him to sea. He +would go with the mysterious current; he would go swiftly--and see the +end, the fulfilment both blissful and terrible. + +With this state of exaltation in which he saw himself in some +incomprehensible way always victorious, whatever might befall, there was +mingled a tenacity of purpose. He could not sacrifice his intention, +the intention of years, the intention of his life; he could no more +part with it and exist than he could cut out his heart and live. The +adventurer held fast to his adventure which made him in his own sight +exactly what he was. + +He considered the problem with cool audacity, backed by a belief in +his own power. It was not these two men he had to save; he had to save +himself! And looked upon in this way the situation appeared familiar. + +Hassim had told him the two white men had been taken by their captors +to Daman's camp. The young Rajah, leaving his sister in the canoe, had +landed on the sand and had crept to the very edge of light thrown by the +fires by which the Illanuns were cooking. Daman was sitting apart by a +larger blaze. Two praus rode in shallow water near the sandbank; on the +ridge, a sentry walked watching the lights of the brig; the camp was +full of quiet whispers. Hassim returned to his canoe, then he and his +sister, paddling cautiously round the anchored praus, in which women's +voices could be heard, approached the other end of the camp. The light +of the big blaze there fell on the water and the canoe skirted it +without a splash, keeping in the night. Hassim, landing for the second +time, crept again close to the fires. Each prau had, according to the +customs of the Illanun rovers when on a raiding expedition, a smaller +war-boat and these being light and manageable were hauled up on the sand +not far from the big blaze; they sat high on the shelving shore throwing +heavy shadows. Hassim crept up toward the largest of them and then +standing on tiptoe could look at the camp across the gunwales. The +confused talking of the men was like the buzz of insects in a forest. +A child wailed on board one of the praus and a woman hailed the shore +shrilly. Hassim unsheathed his kris and held it in his hand. + +Very soon--he said--he saw the two white men walking amongst the fires. +They waved their arms and talked together, stopping from time to time; +they approached Daman; and the short man with the hair on his face +addressed him earnestly and at great length. Daman sat cross-legged upon +a little carpet with an open Koran on his knees and chanted the versets +swaying to and fro with his eyes shut. + +The Illanun chiefs reclining wrapped in cloaks on the ground raised +themselves on their elbows to look at the whites. When the short white +man finished speaking he gazed down at them for a while, then stamped +his foot. He looked angry because no one understood him. Then suddenly +he looked very sad; he covered his face with his hands; the tall man put +his hand on the short man's shoulder and whispered into his ear. The dry +wood of the fires crackled, the Illanuns slept, cooked, talked, but +with their weapons at hand. An armed man or two came up to stare at the +prisoners and then returned to their fire. The two whites sank down in +the sand in front of Daman. Their clothes were soiled, there was sand in +their hair. The tall man had lost his hat; the glass in the eye of the +short man glittered very much; his back was muddy and one sleeve of his +coat torn up to the elbow. + +All this Hassim saw and then retreated undetected to that part of +the shore where Immada waited for him, keeping the canoe afloat. The +Illanuns, trusting to the sea, kept very bad watch on their prisoners, +and had he been able to speak with them Hassim thought an escape could +have been effected. But they could not have understood his signs and +still less his words. He consulted with his sister. Immada murmured +sadly; at their feet the ripple broke with a mournful sound no louder +than their voices. + +Hassim's loyalty was unshaken, but now it led him on not in the bright +light of hopes but in the deepened shadow of doubt. He wanted to obtain +information for his friend who was so powerful and who perhaps would +know how to be constant. When followed by Immada he approached the camp +again--this time openly--their appearance did not excite much surprise. +It was well known to the Chiefs of the Illanuns that the Rajah for whom +they were to fight--if God so willed--was upon the shoals looking out +for the coming of the white man who had much wealth and a store of +weapons and who was his servant. Daman, who alone understood the exact +relation, welcomed them with impenetrable gravity. Hassim took his +seat on the carpet at his right hand. A consultation was being held +half-aloud in short and apparently careless sentences, with long +intervals of silence between. Immada, nestling close to her brother, +leaned one arm on his shoulder and listened with serious attention and +with outward calm as became a princess of Wajo accustomed to consort +with warriors and statesmen in moments of danger and in the hours of +deliberation. Her heart was beating rapidly, and facing her the silent +white men stared at these two known faces, as if across a gulf. +Four Illanun chiefs sat in a row. Their ample cloaks fell from their +shoulders, and lay behind them on the sand in which their four long +lances were planted upright, each supporting a small oblong shield of +wood, carved on the edges and stained a dull purple. Daman stretched out +his arm and pointed at the prisoners. The faces of the white men were +very quiet. Daman looked at them mutely and ardently, as if consumed by +an unspeakable longing. + +The Koran, in a silk cover, hung on his breast by a crimson cord. It +rested over his heart and, just below, the plain buffalo-horn handle of +a kris, stuck into the twist of his sarong, protruded ready to his hand. +The clouds thickening over the camp made the darkness press heavily on +the glow of scattered fires. "There is blood between me and the whites," +he pronounced, violently. The Illanun chiefs remained impassive. There +was blood between them and all mankind. Hassim remarked dispassionately +that there was one white man with whom it would be wise to remain +friendly; and besides, was not Daman his friend already? Daman smiled +with half-closed eyes. He was that white man's friend, not his slave. +The Illanuns playing with their sword-handles grunted assent. Why, asked +Daman, did these strange whites travel so far from their country? The +great white man whom they all knew did not want them. No one wanted +them. Evil would follow in their footsteps. They were such men as are +sent by rulers to examine the aspects of far-off countries and talk of +peace and make treaties. Such is the beginning of great sorrows. The +Illanuns were far from their country, where no white man dared to come, +and therefore they were free to seek their enemies upon the open waters. +They had found these two who had come to see. He asked what they had +come to see? Was there nothing to look at in their own country? + +He talked in an ironic and subdued tone. The scattered heaps of embers +glowed a deeper red; the big blaze of the chief's fire sank low and +grew dim before he ceased. Straight-limbed figures rose, sank, moved, +whispered on the beach. Here and there a spear-blade caught a red gleam +above the black shape of a head. + +"The Illanuns seek booty on the sea," cried Daman. "Their fathers and +the fathers of their fathers have done the same, being fearless like +those who embrace death closely." + +A low laugh was heard. "We strike and go," said an exulting voice. "We +live and die with our weapons in our hands." The Illanuns leaped to +their feet. They stamped on the sand, flourishing naked blades over the +heads of their prisoners. A tumult arose. + +When it subsided Daman stood up in a cloak that wrapped him to his feet +and spoke again giving advice. + +The white men sat on the sand and turned their eyes from face to face +as if trying to understand. It was agreed to send the prisoners into the +lagoon where their fate would be decided by the ruler of the land. The +Illanuns only wanted to plunder the ship. They did not care what became +of the men. "But Daman cares," remarked Hassim to Lingard, when relating +what took place. "He cares, O Tuan!" + +Hassim had learned also that the Settlement was in a state of unrest +as if on the eve of war. Belarab with his followers was encamped by his +father's tomb in the hollow beyond the cultivated fields. His stockade +was shut up and no one appeared on the verandahs of the houses within. +You could tell there were people inside only by the smoke of the cooking +fires. Tengga's followers meantime swaggered about the Settlement +behaving tyrannically to those who were peaceable. A great madness had +descended upon the people, a madness strong as the madness of love, the +madness of battle, the desire to spill blood. A strange fear also had +made them wild. The big smoke seen that morning above the forests of +the coast was some agreed signal from Tengga to Daman but what it meant +Hassim had been unable to find out. He feared for Jorgenson's safety. +He said that while one of the war-boats was being made ready to take the +captives into the lagoon, he and his sister left the camp quietly and +got away in their canoe. The flares of the brig, reflected in a faint +loom upon the clouds, enabled them to make straight for the vessel +across the banks. Before they had gone half way these flames went out +and the darkness seemed denser than any he had known before. But it was +no greater than the darkness of his mind--he added. He had looked upon +the white men sitting unmoved and silent under the edge of swords; he +had looked at Daman, he had heard bitter words spoken; he was looking +now at his white friend--and the issue of events he could not see. One +can see men's faces but their fate, which is written on their foreheads, +one cannot see. He had no more to say, and what he had spoken was true +in every word. + + + +IV + +Lingard repeated it all to Mrs. Travers. Her courage, her intelligence, +the quickness of her apprehension, the colour of her eyes and the +intrepidity of her glance evoked in him an admiring enthusiasm. She +stood by his side! Every moment that fatal illusion clung closer to his +soul--like a garment of light--like an armour of fire. + +He was unwilling to face the facts. All his life--till that day--had +been a wrestle with events in the daylight of this world, but now he +could not bring his mind to the consideration of his position. It +was Mrs. Travers who, after waiting awhile, forced on him the pain +of thought by wanting to know what bearing Hassim's news had upon the +situation. + +Lingard had not the slightest doubt Daman wanted him to know what had +been done with the prisoners. That is why Daman had welcomed Hassim, and +let him hear the decision and had allowed him to leave the camp on the +sandbank. There could be only one object in this; to let him, Lingard, +know that the prisoners had been put out of his reach as long as he +remained in his brig. Now this brig was his strength. To make him leave +his brig was like removing his hand from his sword. + +"Do you understand what I mean, Mrs. Travers?" he asked. "They are +afraid of me because I know how to fight this brig. They fear the +brig because when I am on board her, the brig and I are one. An armed +man--don't you see? Without the brig I am disarmed, without me she can't +strike. So Daman thinks. He does not know everything but he is not far +off the truth. He says to himself that if I man the boats to go after +these whites into the lagoon then his Illanuns will get the yacht for +sure--and perhaps the brig as well. If I stop here with my brig he holds +the two white men and can talk as big as he pleases. Belarab believes in +me no doubt, but Daman trusts no man on earth. He simply does not know +how to trust any one, because he is always plotting himself. He came to +help me and as soon as he found I was not there he began to plot with +Tengga. Now he has made a move--a clever move; a cleverer move than he +thinks. Why? I'll tell you why. Because I, Tom Lingard, haven't a single +white man aboard this brig I can trust. Not one. I only just discovered +my mate's got the notion I am some kind of pirate. And all your yacht +people think the same. It is as though you had brought a curse on me +in your yacht. Nobody believes me. Good God! What have I come to! Even +those two--look at them--I say look at them! By all the stars they doubt +me! Me! . . ." + +He pointed at Hassim and Immada. The girl seemed frightened. Hassim +looked on calm and intelligent with inexhaustible patience. Lingard's +voice fell suddenly. + +"And by heavens they may be right. Who knows? You? Do you know? They +have waited for years. Look. They are waiting with heavy hearts. Do you +think that I don't care? Ought I to have kept it all in--told no one--no +one--not even you? Are they waiting for what will never come now?" + +Mrs. Travers rose and moved quickly round the table. "Can we give +anything to this--this Daman or these other men? We could give them more +than they could think of asking. I--my husband. . . ." + +"Don't talk to me of your husband," he said, roughly. "You don't know +what you are doing." She confronted the sombre anger of his eyes--"But I +must," she asserted with heat.--"Must," he mused, noticing that she was +only half a head less tall than himself. "Must! Oh, yes. Of course, you +must. Must! Yes. But I don't want to hear. Give! What can you give? You +may have all the treasures of the world for all I know. No! You can't +give anything. . . ." + +"I was thinking of your difficulty when I spoke," she interrupted. His +eyes wandered downward following the line of her shoulder.--"Of me--of +me!" he repeated. + +All this was said almost in whispers. The sound of slow footsteps was +heard on deck above their heads. Lingard turned his face to the open +skylight. + +"On deck there! Any wind?" + +All was still for a moment. Somebody above answered in a leisurely tone: + +"A steady little draught from the northward." + +Then after a pause added in a mutter: + +"Pitch dark." + +"Aye, dark enough," murmured Lingard. He must do something. Now. At +once. The world was waiting. The world full of hopes and fear. +What should he do? Instead of answering that question he traced the +ungleaming coils of her twisted hair and became fascinated by a stray +lock at her neck. What should he do? No one to leave his brig to. The +voice that had answered his question was Carter's voice. "He is hanging +about keeping his eye on me," he said to Mrs. Travers. She shook her +head and tried to smile. The man above coughed discreetly. "No," said +Lingard, "you must understand that you have nothing to give." + +The man on deck who seemed to have lingered by the skylight was heard +saying quietly, "I am at hand if you want me, Mrs. Travers." Hassim and +Immada looked up. "You see," exclaimed Lingard. "What did I tell you? +He's keeping his eye on me! On board my own ship. Am I dreaming? Am I in +a fever? Tell him to come down," he said after a pause. Mrs. Travers +did so and Lingard thought her voice very commanding and very sweet. +"There's nothing in the world I love so much as this brig," he went on. +"Nothing in the world. If I lost her I would have no standing room on +the earth for my feet. You don't understand this. You can't." + +Carter came in and shut the cabin door carefully. He looked with +serenity at everyone in turn. + +"All quiet?" asked Lingard. + +"Quiet enough if you like to call it so," he answered. "But if you only +put your head outside the door you'll hear them all on the quarter-deck +snoring against each other, as if there were no wives at home and no +pirates at sea." + +"Look here," said Lingard. "I found out that I can't trust my mate." + +"Can't you?" drawled Carter. "I am not exactly surprised. I must say +_he_ does not snore but I believe it is because he is too crazy to +sleep. He waylaid me on the poop just now and said something about evil +communications corrupting good manners. Seems to me I've heard that +before. Queer thing to say. He tried to make it out somehow that if he +wasn't corrupt it wasn't your fault. As if this was any concern of mine. +He's as mad as he's fat--or else he puts it on." Carter laughed a little +and leaned his shoulders against a bulkhead. + +Lingard gazed at the woman who expected so much from him and in the +light she seemed to shed he saw himself leading a column of armed boats +to the attack of the Settlement. He could burn the whole place to the +ground and drive every soul of them into the bush. He could! And +there was a surprise, a shock, a vague horror at the thought of the +destructive power of his will. He could give her ever so many lives. He +had seen her yesterday, and it seemed to him he had been all his life +waiting for her to make a sign. She was very still. He pondered a plan +of attack. He saw smoke and flame--and next moment he saw himself alone +amongst shapeless ruins with the whispers, with the sigh and moan of the +Shallows in his ears. He shuddered, and shaking his hand: + +"No! I cannot give you all those lives!" he cried. + +Then, before Mrs. Travers could guess the meaning of this outburst, he +declared that as the two captives must be saved he would go alone into +the lagoon. He could not think of using force. "You understand why," he +said to Mrs. Travers and she whispered a faint "Yes." He would run the +risk alone. His hope was in Belarab being able to see where his true +interest lay. "If I can only get at him I would soon make him see," he +mused aloud. "Haven't I kept his power up for these two years past? And +he knows it, too. He feels it." Whether he would be allowed to reach +Belarab was another matter. Lingard lost himself in deep thought. "He +would not dare," he burst out. Mrs. Travers listened with parted lips. +Carter did not move a muscle of his youthful and self-possessed face; +only when Lingard, turning suddenly, came up close to him and asked with +a red flash of eyes and in a lowered voice, "Could you fight this brig?" +something like a smile made a stir amongst the hairs of his little fair +moustache. + +"'Could I?" he said. "I could try, anyhow." He paused, and added hardly +above his breath, "For the lady--of course." + +Lingard seemed staggered as though he had been hit in the chest. "I was +thinking of the brig," he said, gently. + +"Mrs. Travers would be on board," retorted Carter. + +"What! on board. Ah yes; on board. Where else?" stammered Lingard. + +Carter looked at him in amazement. "Fight! You ask!" he said, slowly. +"You just try me." + +"I shall," ejaculated Lingard. He left the cabin calling out "serang!" A +thin cracked voice was heard immediately answering, "Tuan!" and the door +slammed to. + +"You trust him, Mrs. Travers?" asked Carter, rapidly. + +"You do not--why?" she answered. + +"I can't make him out. If he was another kind of man I would say he was +drunk," said Carter. "Why is he here at all--he, and this brig of his? +Excuse my boldness--but have you promised him anything?" + +"I--I promised!" exclaimed Mrs. Travers in a bitter tone which silenced +Carter for a moment. + +"So much the better," he said at last. "Let him show what he can do +first and . . ." + +"Here! Take this," said Lingard, who re-entered the cabin fumbling about +his neck. Carter mechanically extended his hand. + +"What's this for?" he asked, looking at a small brass key attached to a +thin chain. + +"Powder magazine. Trap door under the table. The man who has this key +commands the brig while I am away. The serang understands. You have her +very life in your hand there." + +Carter looked at the small key lying in his half-open palm. + +"I was just telling Mrs. Travers I didn't trust you--not +altogether. . . ." + +"I know all about it," interrupted Lingard, contemptuously. "You carry +a blamed pistol in your pocket to blow my brains out--don't you? What's +that to me? I am thinking of the brig. I think I know your sort. You +will do." + +"Well, perhaps I might," mumbled Carter, modestly. + +"Don't be rash," said Lingard, anxiously. "If you've got to fight use +your head as well as your hands. If there's a breeze fight under way. If +they should try to board in a calm, trust to the small arms to hold them +off. Keep your head and--" He looked intensely into Carter's eyes; his +lips worked without a sound as though he had been suddenly struck dumb. +"Don't think about me. What's that to you who I am? Think of the ship," +he burst out. "Don't let her go!--Don't let her go!" The passion in his +voice impressed his hearers who for a time preserved a profound silence. + +"All right," said Carter at last. "I will stick to your brig as though +she were my own; but I would like to see clear through all this. Look +here--you are going off somewhere? Alone, you said?" + +"Yes. Alone." + +"Very well. Mind, then, that you don't come back with a crowd of those +brown friends of yours--or by the Heavens above us I won't let you come +within hail of your own ship. Am I to keep this key?" + +"Captain Lingard," said Mrs. Travers suddenly. "Would it not be better +to tell him everything?" + +"Tell him everything?" repeated Lingard. "Everything! Yesterday it might +have been done. Only yesterday! Yesterday, did I say? Only six hours +ago--only six hours ago I had something to tell. You heard it. And now +it's gone. Tell him! There's nothing to tell any more." He remained for +a time with bowed head, while before him Mrs. Travers, who had begun a +gesture of protest, dropped her arms suddenly. In a moment he looked up +again. + +"Keep the key," he said, calmly, "and when the time comes step forward +and take charge. I am satisfied." + +"I would like to see clear through all this though," muttered Carter +again. "And for how long are you leaving us, Captain?" Lingard made no +answer. Carter waited awhile. "Come, sir," he urged. "I ought to have +some notion. What is it? Two, three days?" Lingard started. + +"Days," he repeated. "Ah, days. What is it you want to know? Two . . . +three--what did the old fellow say--perhaps for life." This was spoken +so low that no one but Carter heard the last words.--"Do you mean it?" +he murmured. Lingard nodded.--"Wait as long as you can--then go," he +said in the same hardly audible voice. "Go where?"--"Where you like, +nearest port, any port."--"Very good. That's something plain at any +rate," commented the young man with imperturbable good humour. + +"I go, O Hassim!" began Lingard and the Malay made a slow inclination of +the head which he did not raise again till Lingard had ceased speaking. +He betrayed neither surprise nor any other emotion while Lingard in a +few concise and sharp sentences made him acquainted with his purpose to +bring about singlehanded the release of the prisoners. When Lingard had +ended with the words: "And you must find a way to help me in the time of +trouble, O Rajah Hassim," he looked up and said: + +"Good. You never asked me for anything before." + +He smiled at his white friend. There was something subtle in the smile +and afterward an added firmness in the repose of the lips. Immada moved +a step forward. She looked at Lingard with terror in her black and +dilated eyes. She exclaimed in a voice whose vibration startled the +hearts of all the hearers with an indefinable sense of alarm, "He will +perish, Hassim! He will perish alone!" + +"No," said Hassim. "Thy fear is as vain to-night as it was at sunrise. +He shall not perish alone." + +Her eyelids dropped slowly. From her veiled eyes the tears fell, +vanishing in the silence. Lingard's forehead became furrowed by folds +that seemed to contain an infinity of sombre thoughts. "Remember, O +Hassim, that when I promised you to take you back to your country you +promised me to be a friend to all white men. A friend to all whites who +are of my people, forever." + +"My memory is good, O Tuan," said Hassim; "I am not yet back in my +country, but is not everyone the ruler of his own heart? Promises made +by a man of noble birth live as long as the speaker endures." + +"Good-bye," said Lingard to Mrs. Travers. "You will be safe here." He +looked all around the cabin. "I leave you," he began again and stopped +short. Mrs. Travers' hand, resting lightly on the edge of the table, +began to tremble. "It's for you . . . Yes. For you alone . . . and it +seems it can't be. . . ." + +It seemed to him that he was saying good-bye to all the world, that +he was taking a last leave of his own self. Mrs. Travers did not say a +word, but Immada threw herself between them and cried: + +"You are a cruel woman! You are driving him away from where his strength +is. You put madness into his heart, O! Blind--without pity--without +shame! . . ." + +"Immada," said Hassim's calm voice. Nobody moved. + +"What did she say to me?" faltered Mrs. Travers and again repeated in a +voice that sounded hard, "What did she say?" + +"Forgive her," said Lingard. "Her fears are for me . . ."--"It's about +your going?" Mrs. Travers interrupted, swiftly. + +"Yes, it is--and you must forgive her." He had turned away his eyes with +something that resembled embarrassment but suddenly he was assailed by +an irresistible longing to look again at that woman. At the moment of +parting he clung to her with his glance as a man holds with his hands +a priceless and disputed possession. The faint blush that overspread +gradually Mrs. Travers' features gave her face an air of extraordinary +and startling animation. + +"The danger you run?" she asked, eagerly. He repelled the suggestion by +a slighting gesture of the hand.--"Nothing worth looking at twice. Don't +give it a thought," he said. "I've been in tighter places." He clapped +his hands and waited till he heard the cabin door open behind his back. +"Steward, my pistols." The mulatto in slippers, aproned to the chin, +glided through the cabin with unseeing eyes as though for him no one +there had existed. . . .--"Is it my heart that aches so?" Mrs. Travers +asked herself, contemplating Lingard's motionless figure. "How long will +this sensation of dull pain last? Will it last forever. . . ."--"How +many changes of clothes shall I put up, sir?" asked the steward, while +Lingard took the pistols from him and eased the hammers after putting +on fresh caps.--"I will take nothing this time, steward." He received in +turn from the mulatto's hands a red silk handkerchief, a pocket book, a +cigar-case. He knotted the handkerchief loosely round his throat; it +was evident he was going through the routine of every departure for +the shore; he even opened the cigar-case to see whether it had been +filled.--"Hat, sir," murmured the half-caste. Lingard flung it on his +head.--"Take your orders from this lady, steward--till I come back. The +cabin is hers--do you hear?" He sighed ready to go and seemed unable to +lift a foot.--"I am coming with you," declared Mrs. Travers suddenly in +a tone of unalterable decision. He did not look at her; he did not even +look up; he said nothing, till after Carter had cried: "You can't, Mrs. +Travers!"--when without budging he whispered to himself:--"Of course." +Mrs. Travers had pulled already the hood of her cloak over her head +and her face within the dark cloth had turned an intense and unearthly +white, in which the violet of her eyes appeared unfathomably mysterious. +Carter started forward.--"You don't know this man," he almost shouted. + +"I do know him," she said, and before the reproachfully unbelieving +attitude of the other she added, speaking slowly and with emphasis: +"There is not, I verily believe, a single thought or act of his life +that I don't know."--"It's true--it's true," muttered Lingard to +himself. Carter threw up his arms with a groan. "Stand back," said a +voice that sounded to him like a growl of thunder, and he felt a grip +on his hand which seemed to crush every bone. He jerked it away.--"Mrs. +Travers! stay," he cried. They had vanished through the open door and +the sound of their footsteps had already died away. Carter turned about +bewildered as if looking for help.--"Who is he, steward? Who in the name +of all the mad devils is he?" he asked, wildly. He was confounded by the +cold and philosophical tone of the answer:--"'Tain't my place to trouble +about that, sir--nor yours I guess."--"Isn't it!" shouted Carter. "Why, +he has carried the lady off." The steward was looking critically at +the lamp and after a while screwed the light down.--"That's better," he +mumbled.--"Good God! What is a fellow to do?" continued Carter, looking +at Hassim and Immada who were whispering together and gave him only an +absent glance. He rushed on deck and was struck blind instantly by the +night that seemed to have been lying in wait for him; he stumbled over +something soft, kicked something hard, flung himself on the rail. "Come +back," he cried. "Come back. Captain! Mrs. Travers!--or let me come, +too." + +He listened. The breeze blew cool against his cheek. A black bandage +seemed to lie over his eyes. "Gone," he groaned, utterly crushed. +And suddenly he heard Mrs. Travers' voice remote in the depths of +the night.--"Defend the brig," it said, and these words, pronouncing +themselves in the immensity of a lightless universe, thrilled every +fibre of his body by the commanding sadness of their tone. "Defend, +defend the brig." . . . "I am damned if I do," shouted Carter in +despair. "Unless you come back! . . . Mrs. Travers!" + +". . . as though--I were--on board--myself," went on the rising +cadence of the voice, more distant now, a marvel of faint and imperious +clearness. + +Carter shouted no more; he tried to make out the boat for a time, and +when, giving it up, he leaped down from the rail, the heavy obscurity +of the brig's main deck was agitated like a sombre pool by his jump, +swayed, eddied, seemed to break up. Blotches of darkness recoiled, +drifted away, bare feet shuffled hastily, confused murmurs died out. +"Lascars," he muttered, "The crew is all agog." Afterward he listened +for a moment to the faintly tumultuous snores of the white men sleeping +in rows, with their heads under the break of the poop. Somewhere +about his feet, the yacht's black dog, invisible, and chained to a +deck-ringbolt, whined, rattled the thin links, pattered with his claws +in his distress at the unfamiliar surroundings, begging for the charity +of human notice. Carter stooped impulsively, and was met by a startling +lick in the face.--"Hallo, boy!" He thumped the thick curly sides, +stroked the smooth head--"Good boy, Rover. Down. Lie down, dog. You +don't know what to make of it--do you, boy?" The dog became still as +death. "Well, neither do I," muttered Carter. But such natures are +helped by a cheerful contempt for the intricate and endless suggestions +of thought. He told himself that he would soon see what was to come of +it, and dismissed all speculation. Had he been a little older he would +have felt that the situation was beyond his grasp; but he was too +young to see it whole and in a manner detached from himself. All these +inexplicable events filled him with deep concern--but then on the other +hand he had the key of the magazine and he could not find it in his +heart to dislike Lingard. He was positive about this at last, and to +know that much after the discomfort of an inward conflict went a long +way toward a solution. When he followed Shaw into the cabin he could not +repress a sense of enjoyment or hide a faint and malicious smile. + +"Gone away--did you say? And carried off the lady with him?" discoursed +Shaw very loud in the doorway. "Did he? Well, I am not surprised. What +can you expect from a man like that, who leaves his ship in an open +roadstead without--I won't say orders--but without as much as a single +word to his next in command? And at night at that! That just shows you +the kind of man. Is this the way to treat a chief mate? I apprehend he +was riled at the little al-ter-cation we had just before you came on +board. I told him a truth or two--but--never mind. There's the law and +that's enough for me. I am captain as long as he is out of the ship, and +if his address before very long is not in one of Her Majesty's jails or +other I au-tho-rize you to call me a Dutchman. You mark my words." + +He walked in masterfully, sat down and surveyed the cabin in a leisurely +and autocratic manner; but suddenly his eyes became stony with amazement +and indignation; he pointed a fat and trembling forefinger. + +"Niggers," he said, huskily. "In the cuddy! In the cuddy!" He appeared +bereft of speech for a time. + +Since he entered the cabin Hassim had been watching him in thoughtful +and expectant silence. "I can't have it," he continued with genuine +feeling in his voice. "Damme! I've too much respect for myself." He rose +with heavy deliberation; his eyes bulged out in a severe and +dignified stare. "Out you go!" he bellowed; suddenly, making a step +forward.--"Great Scott! What are you up to, mister?" asked in a tone of +dispassionate surprise the steward whose head appeared in the doorway. +"These are the Captain's friends." "Show me a man's friends and . . ." +began Shaw, dogmatically, but abruptly passed into the tone of +admonition. "You take your mug out of the way, bottle-washer. They ain't +friends of mine. I ain't a vagabond. I know what's due to myself. Quit!" +he hissed, fiercely. Hassim, with an alert movement, grasped the handle +of his kris. Shaw puffed out his cheeks and frowned.--"Look out! He +will stick you like a prize pig," murmured Carter without moving +a muscle. Shaw looked round helplessly.--"And you would enjoy the +fun--wouldn't you?" he said with slow bitterness. Carter's distant +non-committal smile quite overwhelmed him by its horrid frigidity. +Extreme despondency replaced the proper feeling of racial pride in the +primitive soul of the mate. "My God! What luck! What have I done to fall +amongst that lot?" he groaned, sat down, and took his big grey head in +his hands. Carter drew aside to make room for Immada, who, in obedience +to a whisper from her brother, sought to leave the cabin. She passed +out after an instant of hesitation, during which she looked up at Carter +once. Her brother, motionless in a defensive attitude, protected her +retreat. She disappeared; Hassim's grip on his weapon relaxed; he looked +in turn at every object in the cabin as if to fix its position in +his mind forever, and following his sister, walked out with noiseless +footfalls. + +They entered the same darkness which had received, enveloped, and hidden +the troubled souls of Lingard and Edith, but to these two the light from +which they had felt themselves driven away was now like the light of +forbidden hopes; it had the awful and tranquil brightness that a light +burning on the shore has for an exhausted swimmer about to give himself +up to the fateful sea. They looked back; it had disappeared; Carter had +shut the cabin door behind them to have it out with Shaw. He wanted to +arrive at some kind of working compromise with the nominal commander, +but the mate was so demoralized by the novelty of the assaults made upon +his respectability that the young defender of the brig could get nothing +from him except lamentations mingled with mild blasphemies. The brig +slept, and along her quiet deck the voices raised in her cabin--Shaw's +appeals and reproaches directed vociferously to heaven, together with +Carter's inflexible drawl mingled into one deadened, modulated, and +continuous murmur. The lockouts in the waist, motionless and peering +into obscurity, one ear turned to the sea, were aware of that strange +resonance like the ghost of a quarrel that seemed to hover at their +backs. Wasub, after seeing Hassim and Immada into their canoe, prowled +to and fro the whole length of the vessel vigilantly. There was not +a star in the sky and no gleam on the water; there was no horizon, no +outline, no shape for the eye to rest upon, nothing for the hand to +grasp. An obscurity that seemed without limit in space and time had +submerged the universe like a destroying flood. + +A lull of the breeze kept for a time the small boat in the neighbourhood +of the brig. The hoisted sail, invisible, fluttered faintly, +mysteriously, and the boat rising and falling bodily to the passage of +each invisible undulation of the waters seemed to repose upon a living +breast. Lingard, his hand on the tiller, sat up erect, expectant and +silent. Mrs. Travers had drawn her cloak close around her body. Their +glances plunged infinitely deep into a lightless void, and yet they were +still so near the brig that the piteous whine of the dog, mingled with +the angry rattling of the chain, reached their ears faintly, evoking +obscure images of distress and fury. A sharp bark ending in a plaintive +howl that seemed raised by the passage of phantoms invisible to men, +rent the black stillness, as though the instinct of the brute inspired +by the soul of night had voiced in a lamentable plaint the fear of the +future, the anguish of lurking death, the terror of shadows. Not far +from the brig's boat Hassim and Immada in their canoe, letting their +paddles trail in the water, sat in a silent and invincible torpor as +if the fitful puffs of wind had carried to their hearts the breath of a +subtle poison that, very soon, would make them die.--"Have you seen +the white woman's eyes?" cried the girl. She struck her palms together +loudly and remained with her arms extended, with her hands clasped. "O +Hassim! Have you seen her eyes shining under her eyebrows like rays of +light darting under the arched boughs in a forest? They pierced me. I +shuddered at the sound of her voice! I saw her walk behind him--and +it seems to me that she does not live on earth--that all this is +witchcraft." + +She lamented in the night. Hassim kept silent. He had no illusions and +in any other man but Lingard he would have thought the proceeding no +better than suicidal folly. For him Travers and d'Alcacer were two +powerful Rajahs--probably relatives of the Ruler of the land of the +English whom he knew to be a woman; but why they should come and +interfere with the recovery of his own kingdom was an obscure problem. +He was concerned for Lingard's safety. That the risk was incurred mostly +for his sake--so that the prospects of the great enterprise should not +be ruined by a quarrel over the lives of these whites--did not strike +him so much as may be imagined. There was that in him which made such +an action on Lingard's part appear all but unavoidable. Was he not Rajah +Hassim and was not the other a man of strong heart, of strong arm, of +proud courage, a man great enough to protect highborn princes--a friend? +Immada's words called out a smile which, like the words, was lost in the +darkness. "Forget your weariness," he said, gently, "lest, O Sister, we +should arrive too late." The coming day would throw its light on some +decisive event. Hassim thought of his own men who guarded the Emma and +he wished to be where they could hear his voice. He regretted Jaffir was +not there. Hassim was saddened by the absence from his side of that man +who once had carried what he thought would be his last message to his +friend. It had not been the last. He had lived to cherish new hopes and +to face new troubles and, perchance, to frame another message yet, while +death knocked with the hands of armed enemies at the gate. The breeze +steadied; the succeeding swells swung the canoe smoothly up the unbroken +ridges of water travelling apace along the land. They progressed slowly; +but Immada's heart was more weary than her arms, and Hassim, dipping the +blade of his paddle without a splash, peered right and left, trying to +make out the shadowy forms of islets. A long way ahead of the canoe and +holding the same course, the brig's dinghy ran with broad lug extended, +making for that narrow and winding passage between the coast and the +southern shoals, which led to the mouth of the creek connecting the +lagoon with the sea. + +Thus on that starless night the Shallows were peopled by uneasy souls. +The thick veil of clouds stretched over them, cut them off from the +rest of the universe. At times Mrs. Travers had in the darkness the +impression of dizzy speed, and again it seemed to her that the boat was +standing still, that everything in the world was standing still and only +her fancy roamed free from all trammels. Lingard, perfectly motionless +by her side, steered, shaping his course by the feel of the wind. +Presently he perceived ahead a ghostly flicker of faint, livid light +which the earth seemed to throw up against the uniform blackness of +the sky. The dinghy was approaching the expanse of the Shallows. The +confused clamour of broken water deepened its note. + +"How long are we going to sail like this?" asked Mrs. Travers, gently. +She did not recognize the voice that pronounced the word "Always" in +answer to her question. It had the impersonal ring of a voice without a +master. Her heart beat fast. + +"Captain Lingard!" she cried. + +"Yes. What?" he said, nervously, as if startled out of a dream. + +"I asked you how long we were going to sail like this," she repeated, +distinctly. + +"If the breeze holds we shall be in the lagoon soon after daybreak. That +will be the right time, too. I shall leave you on board the hulk with +Jorgenson." + +"And you? What will you do?" she asked. She had to wait for a while. + +"I will do what I can," she heard him say at last. There was another +pause. "All I can," he added. + +The breeze dropped, the sail fluttered. + +"I have perfect confidence in you," she said. "But are you certain of +success?" + +"No." + +The futility of her question came home to Mrs. Travers. In a few hours +of life she had been torn away from all her certitudes, flung into +a world of improbabilities. This thought instead of augmenting her +distress seemed to soothe her. What she experienced was not doubt and +it was not fear. It was something else. It might have been only a great +fatigue. + +She heard a dull detonation as if in the depth of the sea. It was hardly +more than a shock and a vibration. A roller had broken amongst the +shoals; the livid clearness Lingard had seen ahead flashed and flickered +in expanded white sheets much nearer to the boat now. And all this--the +wan burst of light, the faint shock as of something remote and immense +falling into ruins, was taking place outside the limits of her +life which remained encircled by an impenetrable darkness and by an +impenetrable silence. Puffs of wind blew about her head and expired; +the sail collapsed, shivered audibly, stood full and still in turn; +and again the sensation of vertiginous speed and of absolute immobility +succeeding each other with increasing swiftness merged at last into +a bizarre state of headlong motion and profound peace. The darkness +enfolded her like the enervating caress of a sombre universe. It was +gentle and destructive. Its languor seduced her soul into surrender. +Nothing existed and even all her memories vanished into space. She was +content that nothing should exist. + +Lingard, aware all the time of their contact in the narrow stern sheets +of the boat, was startled by the pressure of the woman's head drooping +on his shoulder. He stiffened himself still more as though he had +tried on the approach of a danger to conceal his life in the breathless +rigidity of his body. The boat soared and descended slowly; a region +of foam and reefs stretched across her course hissing like a gigantic +cauldron; a strong gust of wind drove her straight at it for a moment +then passed on and abandoned her to the regular balancing of the swell. +The struggle of the rocks forever overwhelmed and emerging, with the sea +forever victorious and repulsed, fascinated the man. He watched it as he +would have watched something going on within himself while Mrs. Travers +slept sustained by his arm, pressed to his side, abandoned to his +support. The shoals guarding the Shore of Refuge had given him his first +glimpse of success--the solid support he needed for his action. The +Shallows were the shelter of his dreams; their voice had the power to +soothe and exalt his thoughts with the promise of freedom for his hopes. +Never had there been such a generous friendship. . . . A mass of white +foam whirling about a centre of intense blackness spun silently past the +side of the boat. . . . That woman he held like a captive on his arm had +also been given to him by the Shallows. + +Suddenly his eyes caught on a distant sandbank the red gleam of Daman's +camp fire instantly eclipsed like the wink of a signalling lantern along +the level of the waters. It brought to his mind the existence of the two +men--those other captives. If the war canoe transporting them into the +lagoon had left the sands shortly after Hassim's retreat from Daman's +camp, Travers and d'Alcacer were by this time far away up the creek. +Every thought of action had become odious to Lingard since all he could +do in the world now was to hasten the moment of his separation from that +woman to whom he had confessed the whole secret of his life. + +And she slept. She could sleep! He looked down at her as he would have +looked at the slumbering ignorance of a child, but the life within him +had the fierce beat of supreme moments. Near by, the eddies sighed along +the reefs, the water soughed amongst the stones, clung round the rocks +with tragic murmurs that resembled promises, good-byes, or prayers. From +the unfathomable distances of the night came the booming of the swell +assaulting the seaward face of the Shallows. He felt the woman's +nearness with such intensity that he heard nothing. . . . Then suddenly +he thought of death. + +"Wake up!" he shouted in her ear, swinging round in his seat. Mrs. +Travers gasped; a splash of water flicked her over the eyes and she felt +the separate drops run down her cheeks, she tasted them on her lips, +tepid and bitter like tears. A swishing undulation tossed the boat on +high followed by another and still another; and then the boat with the +breeze abeam glided through still water, laying over at a steady angle. + +"Clear of the reef now," remarked Lingard in a tone of relief. + +"Were we in any danger?" asked Mrs. Travers in a whisper. + +"Well, the breeze dropped and we drifted in very close to the rocks," he +answered. "I had to rouse you. It wouldn't have done for you to wake up +suddenly struggling in the water." + +So she had slept! It seemed to her incredible that she should have +closed her eyes in this small boat, with the knowledge of their +desperate errand, on so disturbed a sea. The man by her side leaned +forward, extended his arm, and the boat going off before the wind went +on faster on an even keel. A motionless black bank resting on the sea +stretched infinitely right in their way in ominous stillness. She called +Lingard's attention to it. "Look at this awful cloud." + +"This cloud is the coast and in a moment we shall be entering the +creek," he said, quietly. Mrs. Travers stared at it. Was it land--land! +It seemed to her even less palpable than a cloud, a mere sinister +immobility above the unrest of the sea, nursing in its depth the unrest +of men who, to her mind, were no more real than fantastic shadows. + + + +V + +What struck Mrs. Travers most, directly she set eyes on him, was the +other-world aspect of Jorgenson. He had been buried out of sight so long +that his tall, gaunt body, his unhurried, mechanical movements, his +set face and his eyes with an empty gaze suggested an invincible +indifference to all the possible surprises of the earth. That appearance +of a resuscitated man who seemed to be commanded by a conjuring spell +strolled along the decks of what was even to Mrs. Travers' eyes the mere +corpse of a ship and turned on her a pair of deep-sunk, expressionless +eyes with an almost unearthly detachment. Mrs. Travers had never been +looked at before with that strange and pregnant abstraction. Yet she +didn't dislike Jorgenson. In the early morning light, white from head to +foot in a perfectly clean suit of clothes which seemed hardly to contain +any limbs, freshly shaven (Jorgenson's sunken cheeks with their withered +colouring always had a sort of gloss as though he had the habit of +shaving every two hours or so), he looked as immaculate as though he +had been indeed a pure spirit superior to the soiling contacts of the +material earth. He was disturbing but he was not repulsive. He gave no +sign of greeting. + +Lingard addressed him at once. + +"You have had a regular staircase built up the side of the hulk, +Jorgenson," he said. "It was very convenient for us to come aboard now, +but in case of an attack don't you think . . ." + +"I did think." There was nothing so dispassionate in the world as the +voice of Captain H. C. Jorgenson, ex Barque Wild Rose, since he had +recrossed the Waters of Oblivion to step back into the life of men. "I +did think, but since I don't want to make trouble. . . ." + +"Oh, you don't want to make trouble," interrupted Lingard. + +"No. Don't believe in it. Do you, King Tom?" + +"I may have to make trouble." + +"So you came up here in this small dinghy of yours like this to start +making trouble, did you?" + +"What's the matter with you? Don't you know me yet, Jorgenson?" + +"I thought I knew you. How could I tell that a man like you would come +along for a fight bringing a woman with him?" + +"This lady is Mrs. Travers," said Lingard. "The wife of one of the +luckless gentlemen Daman got hold of last evening. . . . This is +Jorgenson, the friend of whom I have been telling you, Mrs. Travers." + +Mrs. Travers smiled faintly. Her eyes roamed far and near and the +strangeness of her surroundings, the overpowering curiosity, the +conflict of interest and doubt gave her the aspect of one still new to +life, presenting an innocent and naive attitude before the surprises +of experience. She looked very guileless and youthful between those two +men. Lingard gazed at her with that unconscious tenderness mingled with +wonder, which some men manifest toward girlhood. There was nothing of +a conqueror of kingdoms in his bearing. Jorgenson preserved his +amazing abstraction which seemed neither to hear nor see anything. But, +evidently, he kept a mysterious grip on events in the world of living +men because he asked very naturally: + +"How did she get away?" + +"The lady wasn't on the sandbank," explained Lingard, curtly. + +"What sandbank?" muttered Jorgenson, perfunctorily. . . . "Is the yacht +looted, Tom?" + +"Nothing of the kind," said Lingard. + +"Ah, many dead?" inquired Jorgenson. + +"I tell you there was nothing of the kind," said Lingard, impatiently. + +"What? No fight!" inquired Jorgenson again without the slightest sign of +animation. + +"No." + +"And you a fighting man." + +"Listen to me, Jorgenson. Things turned out so that before the time came +for a fight it was already too late." He turned to Mrs. Travers still +looking about with anxious eyes and a faint smile on her lips. "While I +was talking to you that evening from the boat it was already too late. +No. There was never any time for it. I have told you all about myself, +Mrs. Travers, and you know that I speak the truth when I say too late. +If you had only been alone in that yacht going about the seas!" + +"Yes," she struck in, "but I was not alone." + +Lingard dropped his chin on his breast. Already a foretaste of noonday +heat staled the sparkling freshness of the morning. The smile had +vanished from Edith Travers' lips and her eyes rested on Lingard's bowed +head with an expression no longer curious but which might have appeared +enigmatic to Jorgenson if he had looked at her. But Jorgenson looked at +nothing. He asked from the remoteness of his dead past, "What have you +left outside, Tom? What is there now?" + +"There's the yacht on the shoals, my brig at anchor, and about a hundred +of the worst kind of Illanun vagabonds under three chiefs and with two +war-praus moored to the edge of the bank. Maybe Daman is with them, too, +out there." + +"No," said Jorgenson, positively. + +"He has come in," cried Lingard. "He brought his prisoners in himself +then." + +"Landed by torchlight," uttered precisely the shade of Captain +Jorgenson, late of the Barque Wild Rose. He swung his arm pointing +across the lagoon and Mrs. Travers turned about in that direction. + +All the scene was but a great light and a great solitude. Her gaze +travelled over the lustrous, dark sheet of empty water to a shore +bordered by a white beach empty, too, and showing no sign of human life. +The human habitations were lost in the shade of the fruit trees, masked +by the cultivated patches of Indian corn and the banana plantations. +Near the shore the rigid lines of two stockaded forts could be +distinguished flanking the beach, and between them with a great open +space before it, the brown roof slope of an enormous long building that +seemed suspended in the air had a great square flag fluttering above it. +Something like a small white flame in the sky was the carved white coral +finial on the gable of the mosque which had caught full the rays of +the sun. A multitude of gay streamers, white and red, flew over the +half-concealed roofs, over the brilliant fields and amongst the sombre +palm groves. But it might have been a deserted settlement decorated and +abandoned by its departed population. Lingard pointed to the stockade on +the right. + +"That's where your husband is," he said to Mrs. Travers. + +"Who is the other?" uttered Jorgenson's voice at their backs. He also +was turned that way with his strange sightless gaze fixed beyond them +into the void. + +"A Spanish gentleman I believe you said, Mrs Travers," observed Lingard. + +"It is extremely difficult to believe that there is anybody there," +murmured Mrs. Travers. + +"Did you see them both, Jorgenson?" asked Lingard. + +"Made out nobody. Too far. Too dark." + +As a matter of fact Jorgenson had seen nothing, about an hour before +daybreak, but the distant glare of torches while the loud shouts of an +excited multitude had reached him across the water only like a faint +and tempestuous murmur. Presently the lights went away processionally +through the groves of trees into the armed stockades. The distant glare +vanished in the fading darkness and the murmurs of the invisible crowd +ceased suddenly as if carried off by the retreating shadow of the night. +Daylight followed swiftly, disclosing to the sleepless Jorgenson the +solitude of the shore and the ghostly outlines of the familiar forms of +grouped trees and scattered human habitations. He had watched the varied +colours come out in the dawn, the wide cultivated Settlement of +many shades of green, framed far away by the fine black lines of the +forest-edge that was its limit and its protection. + +Mrs. Travers stood against the rail as motionless as a statue. Her face +had lost all its mobility and her cheeks were dead white as if all the +blood in her body had flowed back into her heart and had remained there. +Her very lips had lost their colour. Lingard caught hold of her arm +roughly. + +"Don't, Mrs. Travers. Why are you terrifying yourself like this? If you +don't believe what I say listen to me asking Jorgenson. . . ." + +"Yes, ask me," mumbled Jorgenson in his white moustache. + +"Speak straight, Jorgenson. What do you think? Are the gentlemen alive?" + +"Certainly," said Jorgenson in a sort of disappointed tone as though he +had expected a much more difficult question. + +"Is their life in immediate danger?" + +"Of course not," said Jorgenson. + +Lingard turned away from the oracle. "You have heard him, Mrs. Travers. +You may believe every word he says. There isn't a thought or a purpose +in that Settlement," he continued, pointing at the dumb solitude of the +lagoon, "that this man doesn't know as if they were his own." + +"I know. Ask me," muttered Jorgenson, mechanically. + +Mrs. Travers said nothing but made a slight movement and her whole rigid +figure swayed dangerously. Lingard put his arm firmly round her waist +and she did not seem aware of it till after she had turned her head and +found Lingard's face very near her own. But his eyes full of concern +looked so close into hers that she was obliged to shut them like a woman +about to faint. + +The effect this produced upon Lingard was such that she felt the +tightening of his arm and as she opened her eyes again some of the +colour returned to her face. She met the deepened expression of his +solicitude with a look so steady, with a gaze that in spite of herself +was so profoundly vivid that its clearness seemed to Lingard to throw +all his past life into shade.--"I don't feel faint. It isn't that at +all," she declared in a perfectly calm voice. It seemed to Lingard as +cold as ice. + +"Very well," he agreed with a resigned smile. "But you just catch hold +of that rail, please, before I let you go." She, too, forced a smile on +her lips. + +"What incredulity," she remarked, and for a time made not the slightest +movement. At last, as if making a concession, she rested the tips of her +fingers on the rail. Lingard gradually removed his arm. "And pray don't +look upon me as a conventional 'weak woman' person, the delicate lady of +your own conception," she said, facing Lingard, with her arm extended to +the rail. "Make that effort please against your own conception of what +a woman like me should be. I am perhaps as strong as you are, Captain +Lingard. I mean it literally. In my body."--"Don't you think I have +seen that long ago?" she heard his deep voice protesting.--"And as to +my courage," Mrs. Travers continued, her expression charmingly undecided +between frowns and smiles; "didn't I tell you only a few hours ago, only +last evening, that I was not capable of thinking myself into a fright; +you remember, when you were begging me to try something of the kind. +Don't imagine that I would have been ashamed to try. But I couldn't have +done it. No. Not even for the sake of somebody else's kingdom. Do you +understand me?" + +"God knows," said the attentive Lingard after a time, with an unexpected +sigh. "You people seem to be made of another stuff." + +"What has put that absurd notion into your head?" + +"I didn't mean better or worse. And I wouldn't say it isn't good stuff +either. What I meant to say is that it's different. One feels it. And +here we are." + +"Yes, here we are," repeated Mrs. Travers. "And as to this moment of +emotion, what provoked it is not a concern for anybody or anything +outside myself. I felt no terror. I cannot even fix my fears upon any +distinct image. You think I am shamelessly heartless in telling you +this." + +Lingard made no sign. It didn't occur to him to make a sign. He +simply hung on Mrs. Travers' words as it were only for the sake of the +sound.--"I am simply frank with you," she continued. "What do I know of +savagery, violence, murder? I have never seen a dead body in my life. +The light, the silence, the mysterious emptiness of this place have +suddenly affected my imagination, I suppose. What is the meaning of this +wonderful peace in which we stand--you and I alone?" + +Lingard shook his head. He saw the narrow gleam of the woman's teeth +between the parted lips of her smile, as if all the ardour of her +conviction had been dissolved at the end of her speech into wistful +recognition of their partnership before things outside their knowledge. +And he was warmed by something a little helpless in that smile. Within +three feet of them the shade of Jorgenson, very gaunt and neat, stared +into space. + +"Yes. You are strong," said Lingard. "But a whole long night sitting in +a small boat! I wonder you are not too stiff to stand." + +"I am not stiff in the least," she interrupted, still smiling. "I am +really a very strong woman," she added, earnestly. "Whatever happens you +may reckon on that fact." + +Lingard gave her an admiring glance. But the shade of Jorgenson, perhaps +catching in its remoteness the sound of the word woman, was suddenly +moved to begin scolding with all the liberty of a ghost, in a flow of +passionless indignation. + +"Woman! That's what I say. That's just about the last touch--that you, +Tom Lingard, red-eyed Tom, King Tom, and all those fine names, that you +should leave your weapons twenty miles behind you, your men, your guns, +your brig that is your strength, and come along here with your mouth +full of fight, bare-handed and with a woman in tow.--Well--well!" + +"Don't forget, Jorgenson, that the lady hears you," remonstrated Lingard +in a vexed tone. . . . "He doesn't mean to be rude," he remarked to Mrs. +Travers quite loud, as if indeed Jorgenson were but an immaterial and +feelingless illusion. "He has forgotten." + +"The woman is not in the least offended. I ask for nothing better than +to be taken on that footing." + +"Forgot nothing!" mumbled Jorgenson with a sort of ghostly assertiveness +and as it were for his own satisfaction. "What's the world coming to?" + +"It was I who insisted on coming with Captain Lingard," said Mrs. +Travers, treating Jorgenson to a fascinating sweetness of tone. + +"That's what I say! What is the world coming to? Hasn't King Tom a mind +of his own? What has come over him? He's mad! Leaving his brig with a +hundred and twenty born and bred pirates of the worst kind in two praus +on the other side of a sandbank. Did you insist on that, too? Has he put +himself in the hands of a strange woman?" + +Jorgenson seemed to be asking those questions of himself. Mrs. Travers +observed the empty stare, the self-communing voice, his unearthly lack +of animation. Somehow it made it very easy to speak the whole truth to +him. + +"No," she said, "it is I who am altogether in his hands." + +Nobody would have guessed that Jorgenson had heard a single word of that +emphatic declaration if he had not addressed himself to Lingard with the +question neither more nor less abstracted than all his other speeches. + +"Why then did you bring her along?" + +"You don't understand. It was only right and proper. One of the +gentlemen is the lady's husband." + +"Oh, yes," muttered Jorgenson. "Who's the other?" + +"You have been told. A friend." + +"Poor Mr. d'Alcacer," said Mrs. Travers. "What bad luck for him to have +accepted our invitation. But he is really a mere acquaintance." + +"I hardly noticed him," observed Lingard, gloomily. "He was talking to +you over the back of your chair when I came aboard the yacht as if he +had been a very good friend." + +"We always understood each other very well," said Mrs. Travers, picking +up from the rail the long glass that was lying there. "I always liked +him, the frankness of his mind, and his great loyalty." + +"What did he do?" asked Lingard. + +"He loved," said Mrs. Travers, lightly. "But that's an old story." She +raised the glass to her eyes, one arm extended fully to sustain the long +tube, and Lingard forgot d'Alcacer in admiring the firmness of her pose +and the absolute steadiness of the heavy glass. She was as firm as a +rock after all those emotions and all that fatigue. + +Mrs. Travers directed the glass instinctively toward the entrance of the +lagoon. The smooth water there shone like a piece of silver in the dark +frame of the forest. A black speck swept across the field of her vision. +It was some time before she could find it again and then she saw, +apparently so near as to be within reach of the voice, a small canoe +with two people in it. She saw the wet paddles rising and dipping with +a flash in the sunlight. She made out plainly the face of Immada, who +seemed to be looking straight into the big end of the telescope. The +chief and his sister, after resting under the bank for a couple of +hours in the middle of the night, had entered the lagoon and were making +straight for the hulk. They were already near enough to be perfectly +distinguishable to the naked eye if there had been anybody on board to +glance that way. But nobody was even thinking of them. They might not +have existed except perhaps in the memory of old Jorgenson. But that was +mostly busy with all the mysterious secrets of his late tomb. + +Mrs. Travers lowered the glass suddenly. Lingard came out from a sort of +trance and said: + +"Mr. d'Alcacer. Loved! Why shouldn't he?" + +Mrs. Travers looked frankly into Lingard's gloomy eyes. "It isn't that +alone, of course," she said. "First of all he knew how to love and then. +. . . You don't know how artificial and barren certain kinds of life +can be. But Mr. d'Alcacer's life was not that. His devotion was worth +having." + +"You seem to know a lot about him,'" said Lingard, enviously. "Why do +you smile?" She continued to smile at him for a little while. The long +brass tube over her shoulder shone like gold against the pale fairness +of her bare head.--"At a thought," she answered, preserving the low tone +of the conversation into which they had fallen as if their words could +have disturbed the self-absorption of Captain H. C. Jorgenson. "At the +thought that for all my long acquaintance with Mr. d'Alcacer I don't +know half as much about him as I know about you." + +"Ah, that's impossible," contradicted Lingard. "Spaniard or no Spaniard, +he is one of your kind." + +"Tarred with the same brush," murmured Mrs. Travers, with only a +half-amused irony. But Lingard continued: + +"He was trying to make it up between me and your husband, wasn't he? I +was too angry to pay much attention, but I liked him well enough. What +pleased me most was the way in which he gave it up. That was done like a +gentleman. Do you understand what I mean, Mrs. Travers?" + +"I quite understand." + +"Yes, you would," he commented, simply. "But just then I was too angry +to talk to anybody. And so I cleared out on board my own ship and stayed +there, not knowing what to do and wishing you all at the bottom of the +sea. Don't mistake me, Mrs. Travers; it's you, the people aft, that I +wished at the bottom of the sea. I had nothing against the poor devils +on board, They would have trusted me quick enough. So I fumed there +till--till. . . ." + +"Till nine o'clock or a little after," suggested Mrs. Travers, +impenetrably. + +"No. Till I remembered you," said Lingard with the utmost innocence. + +"Do you mean to say that you forgot my existence so completely till +then? You had spoken to me on board the yacht, you know." + +"Did I? I thought I did. What did I say?" + +"You told me not to touch a dusky princess," answered Mrs. Travers with +a short laugh. Then with a visible change of mood as if she had suddenly +out of a light heart been recalled to the sense of the true situation: +"But indeed I meant no harm to this figure of your dream. And, look over +there. She is pursuing you." Lingard glanced toward the north shore and +suppressed an exclamation of remorse. For the second time he discovered +that he had forgotten the existence of Hassim and Immada. The canoe was +now near enough for its occupants to distinguish plainly the heads of +three people above the low bulwark of the Emma. Immada let her paddle +trail suddenly in the water, with the exclamation, "I see the white +woman there." Her brother looked over his shoulder and the canoe +floated, arrested as if by the sudden power of a spell.--"They are no +dream to me," muttered Lingard, sturdily. Mrs. Travers turned abruptly +away to look at the further shore. It was still and empty to the naked +eye and seemed to quiver in the sunshine like an immense painted curtain +lowered upon the unknown. + +"Here's Rajah Hassim coming, Jorgenson. I had an idea he would perhaps +stay outside." Mrs. Travers heard Lingard's voice at her back and the +answering grunt of Jorgenson. She raised deliberately the long glass to +her eye, pointing it at the shore. + +She distinguished plainly now the colours in the flutter of the +streamers above the brown roofs of the large Settlement, the stir of +palm groves, the black shadows inland and the dazzling white beach of +coral sand all ablaze in its formidable mystery. She swept the whole +range of the view and was going to lower the glass when from behind +the massive angle of the stockade there stepped out into the brilliant +immobility of the landscape a man in a long white gown and with an +enormous black turban surmounting a dark face. Slow and grave he +paced the beach ominously in the sunshine, an enigmatical figure in an +Oriental tale with something weird and menacing in its sudden emergence +and lonely progress. + +With an involuntary gasp Mrs. Travers lowered the glass. All at once +behind her back she heard a low musical voice beginning to pour out +incomprehensible words in a tone of passionate pleading. Hassim and +Immada had come on board and had approached Lingard. Yes! It was +intolerable to feel that this flow of soft speech which had no meaning +for her could make its way straight into that man's heart. + + + +PART V. THE POINT OF HONOUR AND THE POINT OF PASSION + +I + +"May I come in?" + +"Yes," said a voice within. "The door is open." It had a wooden latch. +Mr. Travers lifted it while the voice of his wife continued as he +entered. "Did you imagine I had locked myself in? Did you ever know me +lock myself in?" + +Mr. Travers closed the door behind him. "No, it has never come to that," +he said in a tone that was not conciliatory. In that place which was a +room in a wooden hut and had a square opening without glass but with a +half-closed shutter he could not distinguish his wife very well at once. +She was sitting in an armchair and what he could see best was her +fair hair all loose over the back of the chair. There was a moment +of silence. The measured footsteps of two men pacing athwart the +quarter-deck of the dead ship Emma commanded by the derelict shade of +Jorgenson could be heard outside. + +Jorgenson, on taking up his dead command, had a house of thin boards +built on the after deck for his own accommodation and that of Lingard +during his flying visits to the Shore of Refuge. A narrow passage +divided it in two and Lingard's side was furnished with a camp bedstead, +a rough desk, and a rattan armchair. On one of his visits Lingard had +brought with him a black seaman's chest and left it there. Apart from +these objects and a small looking-glass worth about half a crown and +nailed to the wall there was nothing else in there whatever. What was +on Jorgenson's side of the deckhouse no one had seen, but from external +evidence one could infer the existence of a set of razors. + +The erection of that primitive deckhouse was a matter of propriety +rather than of necessity. It was proper that the white men should have a +place to themselves on board, but Lingard was perfectly accurate when he +told Mrs. Travers that he had never slept there once. His practice was +to sleep on deck. As to Jorgenson, if he did sleep at all he slept very +little. It might have been said that he haunted rather than commanded +the Emma. His white form flitted here and there in the night or stood +for hours, silent, contemplating the sombre glimmer of the lagoon. Mr. +Travers' eyes accustomed gradually to the dusk of the place could +now distinguish more of his wife's person than the great mass of +honey-coloured hair. He saw her face, the dark eyebrows and her eyes +that seemed profoundly black in the half light. He said: + +"You couldn't have done so here. There is neither lock nor bolt." + +"Isn't there? I didn't notice. I would know how to protect myself +without locks and bolts." + +"I am glad to hear it," said Mr. Travers in a sullen tone and fell +silent again surveying the woman in the chair. "Indulging your taste for +fancy dress," he went on with faint irony. + +Mrs. Travers clasped her hands behind her head. The wide sleeves +slipping back bared her arms to her shoulders. She was wearing a Malay +thin cotton jacket, cut low in the neck without a collar and fastened +with wrought silver clasps from the throat downward. She had replaced +her yachting skirt by a blue check sarong embroidered with threads of +gold. Mr. Travers' eyes travelling slowly down attached themselves to +the gleaming instep of an agitated foot from which hung a light leather +sandal. + +"I had no clothes with me but what I stood in," said Mrs. Travers. "I +found my yachting costume too heavy. It was intolerable. I was soaked +in dew when I arrived. So when these things were produced for my +inspection. . . ." + +"By enchantment," muttered Mr. Travers in a tone too heavy for sarcasm. + +"No. Out of that chest. There are very fine stuffs there." + +"No doubt," said Mr. Travers. "The man wouldn't be above plundering the +natives. . . ." He sat down heavily on the chest. "A most appropriate +costume for this farce," he continued. "But do you mean to wear it in +open daylight about the decks?" + +"Indeed I do," said Mrs. Travers. "D'Alcacer has seen me already and he +didn't seem shocked." + +"You should," said Mr. Travers, "try to get yourself presented with some +bangles for your ankles so that you may jingle as you walk." + +"Bangles are not necessities," said Mrs. Travers in a weary tone and +with the fixed upward look of a person unwilling to relinquish her +dream. Mr. Travers dropped the subject to ask: + +"And how long is this farce going to last?" + +Mrs. Travers unclasped her hands, lowered her glance, and changed her +whole pose in a moment. + +"What do you mean by farce? What farce?" + +"The one which is being played at my expense." + +"You believe that?" + +"Not only believe. I feel deeply that it is so. At my expense. It's a +most sinister thing," Mr. Travers pursued, still with downcast eyes and +in an unforgiving tone. "I must tell you that when I saw you in that +courtyard in a crowd of natives and leaning on that man's arm, it gave +me quite a shock." + +"Did I, too, look sinister?" said Mrs. Travers, turning her head +slightly toward her husband. "And yet I assure you that I was glad, +profoundly glad, to see you safe from danger for a time at least. To +gain time is everything. . . ." + +"I ask myself," Mr. Travers meditated aloud, "was I ever in danger? Am +I safe now? I don't know. I can't tell. No! All this seems an abominable +farce." + +There was that in his tone which made his wife continue to look at him +with awakened interest. It was obvious that he suffered from a distress +which was not the effect of fear; and Mrs. Travers' face expressed real +concern till he added in a freezing manner: "The question, however, is +as to your discretion." + +She leaned back again in the chair and let her hands rest quietly in her +lap. "Would you have preferred me to remain outside, in the yacht, in +the near neighbourhood of these wild men who captured you? Or do you +think that they, too, were got up to carry on a farce?" + +"Most decidedly." Mr. Travers raised his head, though of course not his +voice. "You ought to have remained in the yacht amongst white men, your +servants, the sailing-master, the crew whose duty it was to. . . . Who +would have been ready to die for you." + +"I wonder why they should have--and why I should have asked them for +that sacrifice. However, I have no doubt they would have died. Or would +you have preferred me to take up my quarters on board that man's brig? +We were all fairly safe there. The real reason why I insisted on coming +in here was to be nearer to you--to see for myself what could be or was +being done. . . . But really if you want me to explain my motives then I +may just as well say nothing. I couldn't remain outside for days without +news, in a state of horrible doubt. We couldn't even tell whether you +and d'Alcacer were still alive till we arrived here. You might have been +actually murdered on the sandbank, after Rajah Hassim and that girl had +gone away; or killed while going up the river. And I wanted to know at +once, as soon as possible. It was a matter of impulse. I went off in +what I stood in without delaying a moment." + +"Yes," said Mr. Travers. "And without even thinking of having a +few things put up for me in a bag. No doubt you were in a state of +excitement. Unless you took such a tragic view that it seemed to you +hardly worth while to bother about my clothes." + +"It was absolutely the impulse of the moment. I could have done nothing +else. Won't you give me credit for it?" + +Mr. Travers raised his eyes again to his wife's face. He saw it calm, +her attitude reposeful. Till then his tone had been resentful, dull, +without sarcasm. But now he became slightly pompous. + +"No. As a matter of fact, as a matter of experience, I can't credit +you with the possession of feelings appropriate to your origin, social +position, and the ideas of the class to which you belong. It was the +heaviest disappointment of my life. I had made up my mind not to mention +it as long as I lived. This, however, seems an occasion which you have +provoked yourself. It isn't at all a solemn occasion. I don't look upon +it as solemn at all. It's very disagreeable and humiliating. But it +has presented itself. You have never taken a serious interest in the +activities of my life which of course are its distinction and its value. +And why you should be carried away suddenly by a feeling toward the mere +man I don't understand." + +"Therefore you don't approve," Mrs. Travers commented in an even +tone. "But I assure you, you may safely. My feeling was of the most +conventional nature, exactly as if the whole world were looking on. +After all, we are husband and wife. It's eminently fitting that I should +be concerned about your fate. Even the man you distrust and dislike so +much (the warmest feeling, let me tell you, that I ever saw you display) +even that man found my conduct perfectly proper. His own word. Proper. +So eminently proper that it altogether silenced his objections." + +Mr. Travers shifted uneasily on his seat. + +"It's my belief, Edith, that if you had been a man you would have led +a most irregular life. You would have been a frank adventurer. I mean +morally. It has been a great grief to me. You have a scorn in you for +the serious side of life, for the ideas and the ambitions of the social +sphere to which you belong." + +He stopped because his wife had clasped again her hands behind her head +and was no longer looking at him. + +"It's perfectly obvious," he began again. "We have been living amongst +most distinguished men and women and your attitude to them has been +always so--so negative! You would never recognize the importance of +achievements, of acquired positions. I don't remember you ever admiring +frankly any political or social success. I ask myself what after all you +could possibly have expected from life." + +"I could never have expected to hear such a speech from you. As to what +I did expect! . . . I must have been very stupid." + +"No, you are anything but that," declared Mr. Travers, conscientiously. +"It isn't stupidity." He hesitated for a moment. "It's a kind of +wilfulness, I think. I preferred not to think about this grievous +difference in our points of view, which, you will admit, I could not +have possibly foreseen before we. . . ." + +A sort of solemn embarrassment had come over Mr. Travers. Mrs. Travers, +leaning her chin on the palm of her hand, stared at the bare matchboard +side of the hut. + +"Do you charge me with profound girlish duplicity?" she asked, very +softly. + +The inside of the deckhouse was full of stagnant heat perfumed by +a slight scent which seemed to emanate from the loose mass of Mrs. +Travers' hair. Mr. Travers evaded the direct question which struck him +as lacking fineness even to the point of impropriety. + +"I must suppose that I was not in the calm possession of my insight and +judgment in those days," he said. "I--I was not in a critical state of +mind at the time," he admitted further; but even after going so far +he did not look up at his wife and therefore missed something like +the ghost of a smile on Mrs. Travers' lips. That smile was tinged with +scepticism which was too deep-seated for anything but the faintest +expression. Therefore she said nothing, and Mr. Travers went on as if +thinking aloud: + +"Your conduct was, of course, above reproach; but you made for yourself +a detestable reputation of mental superiority, expressed ironically. You +inspired mistrust in the best people. You were never popular." + +"I was bored," murmured Mrs. Travers in a reminiscent tone and with her +chin resting in the hollow of her hand. + +Mr. Travers got up from the seaman's chest as unexpectedly as if he had +been stung by a wasp, but, of course, with a much slower and more solemn +motion. + +"The matter with you, Edith, is that at heart you are perfectly +primitive." Mrs. Travers stood up, too, with a supple, leisurely +movement, and raising her hands to her hair turned half away with a +pensive remark: + +"Imperfectly civilized." + +"Imperfectly disciplined," corrected Mr. Travers after a moment of +dreary meditation. + +She let her arms fall and turned her head. + +"No, don't say that," she protested with strange earnestness. "I am the +most severely disciplined person in the world. I am tempted to say that +my discipline has stopped at nothing short of killing myself. I suppose +you can hardly understand what I mean." + +Mr. Travers made a slight grimace at the floor. + +"I shall not try," he said. "It sounds like something that a barbarian, +hating the delicate complexities and the restraints of a nobler life, +might have said. From you it strikes me as wilful bad taste. . . . +I have often wondered at your tastes. You have always liked +extreme opinions, exotic costumes, lawless characters, romantic +personalities--like d'Alcacer . . ." + +"Poor Mr. d'Alcacer," murmured Mrs. Travers. + +"A man without any ideas of duty or usefulness," said Mr. Travers, +acidly. "What are you pitying him for?" + +"Why! For finding himself in this position out of mere good-nature. +He had nothing to expect from joining our voyage, no advantage for his +political ambitions or anything of the kind. I suppose you asked him on +board to break our tete-a-tete which must have grown wearisome to you." + +"I am never bored," declared Mr. Travers. "D'Alcacer seemed glad to +come. And, being a Spaniard, the horrible waste of time cannot matter to +him in the least." + +"Waste of time!" repeated Mrs. Travers, indignantly. + +"He may yet have to pay for his good nature with his life." + +Mr. Travers could not conceal a movement of anger. + +"Ah! I forgot those assumptions," he said between his clenched teeth. +"He is a mere Spaniard. He takes this farcical conspiracy with perfect +nonchalance. Decayed races have their own philosophy." + +"He takes it with a dignity of his own." + +"I don't know what you call his dignity. I should call it lack of +self-respect." + +"Why? Because he is quiet and courteous, and reserves his judgment. And +allow me to tell you, Martin, that you are not taking our troubles very +well." + +"You can't expect from me all those foreign affectations. I am not in +the habit of compromising with my feelings." + +Mrs. Travers turned completely round and faced her husband. "You sulk," +she said. . . . Mr. Travers jerked his head back a little as if to let +the word go past.--"I am outraged," he declared. Mrs. Travers recognized +there something like real suffering.--"I assure you," she said, +seriously (for she was accessible to pity), "I assure you that this +strange Lingard has no idea of your importance. He doesn't know anything +of your social and political position and still less of your great +ambitions." Mr. Travers listened with some attention.--"Couldn't you +have enlightened him?" he asked.--"It would have been no use; his mind +is fixed upon his own position and upon his own sense of power. He is +a man of the lower classes. . . ."--"He is a brute," said Mr. Travers, +obstinately, and for a moment those two looked straight into each +other's eyes.--"Oh," said Mrs. Travers, slowly, "you are determined not +to compromise with your feelings!" An undertone of scorn crept into her +voice. "But shall I tell you what I think? I think," and she advanced +her head slightly toward the pale, unshaven face that confronted her +dark eyes, "I think that for all your blind scorn you judge the man +well enough to feel that you can indulge your indignation with perfect +safety. Do you hear? With perfect safety!" Directly she had spoken she +regretted these words. Really it was unreasonable to take Mr. Travers' +tricks of character more passionately on this spot of the Eastern +Archipelago full of obscure plots and warring motives than in the more +artificial atmosphere of the town. After all what she wanted was simply +to save his life, not to make him understand anything. Mr. Travers +opened his mouth and without uttering a word shut it again. His wife +turned toward the looking-glass nailed to the wall. She heard his voice +behind her. + +"Edith, where's the truth in all this?" + +She detected the anguish of a slow mind with an instinctive dread of +obscure places wherein new discoveries can be made. She looked over her +shoulder to say: + +"It's on the surface, I assure you. Altogether on the surface." + +She turned again to the looking-glass where her own face met her with +dark eyes and a fair mist of hair above the smooth forehead; but her +words had produced no soothing effect. + +"But what does it mean?" cried Mr. Travers. "Why doesn't the fellow +apologize? Why are we kept here? Are we being kept here? Why don't we +get away? Why doesn't he take me back on board my yacht? What does he +want from me? How did he procure our release from these people on shore +who he says intended to cut our throats? Why did they give us up to him +instead?" + +Mrs. Travers began to twist her hair on her head. + +"Matters of high policy and of local politics. Conflict of personal +interests, mistrust between the parties, intrigues of individuals--you +ought to know how that sort of thing works. His diplomacy made use of +all that. The first thing to do was not to liberate you but to get you +into his keeping. He is a very great man here and let me tell you that +your safety depends on his dexterity in the use of his prestige rather +than on his power which he cannot use. If you would let him talk to +you I am sure he would tell you as much as it is possible for him to +disclose." + +"I don't want to be told about any of his rascalities. But haven't you +been taken into his confidence?" + +"Completely," admitted Mrs. Travers, peering into the small +looking-glass. + +"What is the influence you brought to bear upon this man? It looks to me +as if our fate were in your hands." + +"Your fate is not in my hands. It is not even in his hands. There is a +moral situation here which must be solved." + +"Ethics of blackmail," commented Mr. Travers with unexpected sarcasm. It +flashed through his wife's mind that perhaps she didn't know him so well +as she had supposed. It was as if the polished and solemn crust of hard +proprieties had cracked slightly, here and there, under the strain, +disclosing the mere wrongheadedness of a common mortal. But it was +only manner that had cracked a little; the marvellous stupidity of +his conceit remained the same. She thought that this discussion was +perfectly useless, and as she finished putting up her hair she said: "I +think we had better go on deck now." + +"You propose to go out on deck like this?" muttered Mr. Travers with +downcast eyes. + +"Like this? Certainly. It's no longer a novelty. Who is going to be +shocked?" + +Mr. Travers made no reply. What she had said of his attitude was very +true. He sulked at the enormous offensiveness of men, things, and +events; of words and even of glances which he seemed to feel physically +resting on his skin like a pain, like a degrading contact. He managed +not to wince. But he sulked. His wife continued, "And let me tell +you that those clothes are fit for a princess--I mean they are of the +quality, material and style custom prescribes for the highest in the +land, a far-distant land where I am informed women rule as much as the +men. In fact they were meant to be presented to an actual princess in +due course. They were selected with the greatest care for that child +Immada. Captain Lingard. . . ." + +Mr. Travers made an inarticulate noise partaking of a groan and a grunt. + +"Well, I must call him by some name and this I thought would be the +least offensive for you to hear. After all, the man exists. But he is +known also on a certain portion of the earth's surface as King Tom. +D'Alcacer is greatly taken by that name. It seems to him wonderfully +well adapted to the man, in its familiarity and deference. And if you +prefer. . . ." + +"I would prefer to hear nothing," said Mr. Travers, distinctly. "Not a +single word. Not even from you, till I am a free agent again. But words +don't touch me. Nothing can touch me; neither your sinister warnings nor +the moods of levity which you think proper to display before a man whose +life, according to you, hangs on a thread." + +"I never forget it for a moment," said Mrs. Travers. "And I not only +know that it does but I also know the strength of the thread. It is a +wonderful thread. You may say if you like it has been spun by the same +fate which made you what you are." + +Mr. Travers felt awfully offended. He had never heard anybody, let alone +his own self, addressed in such terms. The tone seemed to question his +very quality. He reflected with shocked amazement that he had lived with +that woman for eight years! And he said to her gloomily: + +"You talk like a pagan." + +It was a very strong condemnation which apparently Mrs. Travers had +failed to hear for she pursued with animation: + +"But really, you can't expect me to meditate on it all the time or shut +myself up here and mourn the circumstances from morning to night. It +would be morbid. Let us go on deck." + +"And you look simply heathenish in this costume," Mr. Travers went on +as though he had not been interrupted, and with an accent of deliberate +disgust. + +Her heart was heavy but everything he said seemed to force the tone +of levity on to her lips. "As long as I don't look like a guy," she +remarked, negligently, and then caught the direction of his lurid stare +which as a matter of fact was fastened on her bare feet. She checked +herself, "Oh, yes, if you prefer it I will put on my stockings. But you +know I must be very careful of them. It's the only pair I have here. I +have washed them this morning in that bathroom which is built over the +stern. They are now drying over the rail just outside. Perhaps you will +be good enough to pass them to me when you go on deck." + +Mr. Travers spun round and went on deck without a word. As soon as she +was alone Mrs. Travers pressed her hands to her temples, a gesture of +distress which relieved her by its sincerity. The measured footsteps of +two men came to her plainly from the deck, rhythmic and double with +a suggestion of tranquil and friendly intercourse. She distinguished +particularly the footfalls of the man whose life's orbit was most remote +from her own. And yet the orbits had cut! A few days ago she could +not have even conceived of his existence, and now he was the man whose +footsteps, it seemed to her, her ears could single unerringly in the +tramp of a crowd. It was, indeed, a fabulous thing. In the half light of +her over-heated shelter she let an irresolute, frightened smile pass off +her lips before she, too, went on deck. + + + +II + +An ingeniously constructed framework of light posts and thin laths +occupied the greater part of the deck amidships of the Emma. The four +walls of that airy structure were made of muslin. It was comparatively +lofty. A door-like arrangement of light battens filled with calico +was further protected by a system of curtains calculated to baffle the +pursuit of mosquitoes that haunted the shores of the lagoon in great +singing clouds from sunset till sunrise. A lot of fine mats covered +the deck space within the transparent shelter devised by Lingard and +Jorgenson to make Mrs. Travers' existence possible during the time when +the fate of the two men, and indeed probably of everybody else on board +the Emma, had to hang in the balance. Very soon Lingard's unbidden and +fatal guests had learned the trick of stepping in and out of the place +quickly. Mr. d'Alcacer performed the feat without apparent haste, almost +nonchalantly, yet as well as anybody. It was generally conceded that he +had never let a mosquito in together with himself. Mr. Travers dodged in +and out without grace and was obviously much irritated at the necessity. +Mrs. Travers did it in a manner all her own, with marked cleverness +and an unconscious air. There was an improvised table in there and some +wicker armchairs which Jorgenson had produced from somewhere in the +depths of the ship. It was hard to say what the inside of the Emma +did not contain. It was crammed with all sorts of goods like a general +store. That old hulk was the arsenal and the war-chest of Lingard's +political action; she was stocked with muskets and gunpowder, with bales +of longcloth, of cotton prints, of silks; with bags of rice and currency +brass guns. She contained everything necessary for dealing death and +distributing bribes, to act on the cupidity and upon the fears of men, +to march and to organize, to feed the friends and to combat the enemies +of the cause. She held wealth and power in her flanks, that grounded +ship that would swim no more, without masts and with the best part +of her deck cumbered by the two structures of thin boards and of +transparent muslin. + +Within the latter lived the Europeans, visible in the daytime to the few +Malays on board as if through a white haze. In the evening the lighting +of the hurricane lamps inside turned them into dark phantoms surrounded +by a shining mist, against which the insect world rushing in its +millions out of the forest on the bank was baffled mysteriously in its +assault. Rigidly enclosed by transparent walls, like captives of +an enchanted cobweb, they moved about, sat, gesticulated, conversed +publicly during the day; and at night when all the lanterns but one were +extinguished, their slumbering shapes covered all over by white cotton +sheets on the camp bedsteads, which were brought in every evening, +conveyed the gruesome suggestion of dead bodies reposing on stretchers. +The food, such as it was, was served within that glorified mosquito net +which everybody called the "Cage" without any humorous intention. At +meal times the party from the yacht had the company of Lingard who +attached to this ordeal a sense of duty performed at the altar of +civility and conciliation. He could have no conception how much his +presence added to the exasperation of Mr. Travers because Mr. Travers' +manner was too intensely consistent to present any shades. It was +determined by an ineradicable conviction that he was a victim held to +ransom on some incomprehensible terms by an extraordinary and outrageous +bandit. This conviction, strung to the highest pitch, never left him for +a moment, being the object of indignant meditation to his mind, and even +clinging, as it were, to his very body. It lurked in his eyes, in his +gestures, in his ungracious mutters, and in his sinister silences. The +shock to his moral being had ended by affecting Mr. Travers' physical +machine. He was aware of hepatic pains, suffered from accesses of +somnolence and suppressed gusts of fury which frightened him secretly. +His complexion had acquired a yellow tinge, while his heavy eyes had +become bloodshot because of the smoke of the open wood fires during +his three days' detention inside Belarab's stockade. His eyes had been +always very sensitive to outward conditions. D'Alcacer's fine black eyes +were more enduring and his appearance did not differ very much from his +ordinary appearance on board the yacht. He had accepted with smiling +thanks the offer of a thin blue flannel tunic from Jorgenson. Those two +men were much of the same build, though of course d'Alcacer, quietly +alive and spiritually watchful, did not resemble Jorgenson, who, without +being exactly macabre, behaved more like an indifferent but restless +corpse. Those two could not be said to have ever conversed together. +Conversation with Jorgenson was an impossible thing. Even Lingard never +attempted the feat. He propounded questions to Jorgenson much as a +magician would interrogate an evoked shade, or gave him curt directions +as one would make use of some marvellous automaton. And that was +apparently the way in which Jorgenson preferred to be treated. Lingard's +real company on board the Emma was d'Alcacer. D'Alcacer had met Lingard +on the easy terms of a man accustomed all his life to good society in +which the very affectations must be carried on without effort. Whether +affectation, or nature, or inspired discretion, d'Alcacer never let the +slightest curiosity pierce the smoothness of his level, grave courtesy +lightened frequently by slight smiles which often had not much +connection with the words he uttered, except that somehow they made them +sound kindly and as it were tactful. In their character, however, those +words were strictly neutral. + +The only time when Lingard had detected something of a deeper +comprehension in d'Alcacer was the day after the long negotiations +inside Belarab's stockade for the temporary surrender of the prisoners. +That move had been suggested to him, exactly as Mrs. Travers had told +her husband, by the rivalries of the parties and the state of public +opinion in the Settlement deprived of the presence of the man who, +theoretically at least, was the greatest power and the visible ruler +of the Shore of Refuge. Belarab still lingered at his father's tomb. +Whether that man of the embittered and pacific heart had withdrawn there +to meditate upon the unruliness of mankind and the thankless nature of +his task; or whether he had gone there simply to bathe in a particularly +clear pool which was a feature of the place, give himself up to the +enjoyment of a certain fruit which grew in profusion there and indulge +for a time in a scrupulous performance of religious exercises, his +absence from the Settlement was a fact of the utmost gravity. It is true +that the prestige of a long-unquestioned rulership and the long-settled +mental habits of the people had caused the captives to be taken straight +to Belarab's stockade as a matter of course. Belarab, at a distance, +could still outweigh the power on the spot of Tengga, whose secret +purposes were no better known, who was jovial, talkative, outspoken and +pugnacious; but who was not a professed servant of God famed for many +charities and a scrupulous performance of pious practices, and who also +had no father who had achieved a local saintship. But Belarab, with +his glamour of asceticism and melancholy together with a reputation for +severity (for a man so pious would be naturally ruthless), was not on +the spot. The only favourable point in his absence was the fact that +he had taken with him his latest wife, the same lady whom Jorgenson had +mentioned in his letter to Lingard as anxious to bring about battle, +murder, and the looting of the yacht, not because of inborn wickedness +of heart but from a simple desire for silks, jewels and other objects +of personal adornment, quite natural in a girl so young and elevated to +such a high position. Belarab had selected her to be the companion of +his retirement and Lingard was glad of it. He was not afraid of her +influence over Belarab. He knew his man. No words, no blandishments, no +sulks, scoldings, or whisperings of a favourite could affect either the +resolves or the irresolutions of that Arab whose action ever seemed +to hang in mystic suspense between the contradictory speculations and +judgments disputing the possession of his will. It was not what Belarab +would either suddenly do or leisurely determine upon that Lingard was +afraid of. The danger was that in his taciturn hesitation, which had +something hopelessly godlike in its remote calmness, the man would do +nothing and leave his white friend face to face with unruly impulses +against which Lingard had no means of action but force which he dared +not use since it would mean the destruction of his plans and the +downfall of his hopes; and worse still would wear an aspect of treachery +to Hassim and Immada, those fugitives whom he had snatched away from +the jaws of death on a night of storm and had promised to lead back +in triumph to their own country he had seen but once, sleeping unmoved +under the wrath and fire of heaven. + +On the afternoon of the very day he had arrived with her on board the +Emma--to the infinite disgust of Jorgenson--Lingard held with Mrs. +Travers (after she had had a couple of hours' rest) a long, fiery, and +perplexed conversation. From the nature of the problem it could not be +exhaustive; but toward the end of it they were both feeling thoroughly +exhausted. Mrs. Travers had no longer to be instructed as to facts and +possibilities. She was aware of them only too well and it was not her +part to advise or argue. She was not called upon to decide or to plead. +The situation was far beyond that. But she was worn out with watching +the passionate conflict within the man who was both so desperately +reckless and so rigidly restrained in the very ardour of his heart and +the greatness of his soul. It was a spectacle that made her forget +the actual questions at issue. This was no stage play; and yet she had +caught herself looking at him with bated breath as at a great actor on a +darkened stage in some simple and tremendous drama. He extorted from her +a response to the forces that seemed to tear at his single-minded +brain, at his guileless breast. He shook her with his own struggles, he +possessed her with his emotions and imposed his personality as if its +tragedy were the only thing worth considering in this matter. And +yet what had she to do with all those obscure and barbarous things? +Obviously nothing. Unluckily she had been taken into the confidence of +that man's passionate perplexity, a confidence provoked apparently by +nothing but the power of her personality. She was flattered, and even +more, she was touched by it; she was aware of something that resembled +gratitude and provoked a sort of emotional return as between equals who +had secretly recognized each other's value. Yet at the same time she +regretted not having been left in the dark; as much in the dark as Mr. +Travers himself or d'Alcacer, though as to the latter it was impossible +to say how much precise, unaccountable, intuitive knowledge was buried +under his unruffled manner. + +D'Alcacer was the sort of man whom it would be much easier to suspect +of anything in the world than ignorance--or stupidity. Naturally he +couldn't know anything definite or even guess at the bare outline of the +facts but somehow he must have scented the situation in those few days +of contact with Lingard. He was an acute and sympathetic observer in all +his secret aloofness from the life of men which was so very different +from Jorgenson's secret divorce from the passions of this earth. Mrs. +Travers would have liked to share with d'Alcacer the burden (for it +was a burden) of Lingard's story. After all, she had not provoked those +confidences, neither had that unexpected adventurer from the sea laid on +her an obligation of secrecy. No, not even by implication. He had never +said to her that she was the _only_ person whom he wished to know that +story. + +No. What he had said was that she was the only person to whom he _could_ +tell the tale himself, as if no one else on earth had the power to draw +it from him. That was the sense and nothing more. Yes, it would have +been a relief to tell d'Alcacer. It would have been a relief to her +feeling of being shut off from the world alone with Lingard as if within +the four walls of a romantic palace and in an exotic atmosphere. Yes, +that relief and also another: that of sharing the responsibility with +somebody fit to understand. Yet she shrank from it, with unaccountable +reserve, as if by talking of Lingard with d'Alcacer she was bound to +give him an insight into herself. It was a vague uneasiness and yet so +persistent that she felt it, too, when she had to approach and talk to +Lingard under d'Alcacer's eyes. Not that Mr. d'Alcacer would ever dream +of staring or even casting glances. But was he averting his eyes on +purpose? That would be even more offensive. + +"I am stupid," whispered Mrs. Travers to herself, with a complete and +reassuring conviction. Yet she waited motionless till the footsteps of +the two men stopped outside the deckhouse, then separated and died away, +before she went out on deck. She came out on deck some time after her +husband. As if in intended contrast to the conflicts of men a great +aspect of serenity lay upon all visible things. Mr. Travers had gone +inside the Cage in which he really looked like a captive and thoroughly +out of place. D'Alcacer had gone in there, too, but he preserved--or was +it an illusion?--an air of independence. It was not that he put it +on. Like Mr. Travers he sat in a wicker armchair in very much the same +attitude as the other gentleman and also silent; but there was somewhere +a subtle difference which did away with the notion of captivity. +Moreover, d'Alcacer had that peculiar gift of never looking out of place +in any surroundings. Mrs. Travers, in order to save her European boots +for active service, had been persuaded to use a pair of leather sandals +also extracted from that seaman's chest in the deckhouse. An additional +fastening had been put on them but she could not avoid making a delicate +clatter as she walked on the deck. No part of her costume made her feel +so exotic. It also forced her to alter her usual gait and move with +quick, short steps very much like Immada. + +"I am robbing the girl of her clothes," she had thought to herself, +"besides other things." She knew by this time that a girl of such +high rank would never dream of wearing anything that had been worn by +somebody else. + +At the slight noise of Mrs. Travers' sandals d'Alcacer looked over the +back of his chair. But he turned his head away at once and Mrs. Travers, +leaning her elbow on the rail and resting her head on the palm of her +hand, looked across the calm surface of the lagoon, idly. + +She was turning her back on the Cage, the fore-part of the deck and +the edge of the nearest forest. That great erection of enormous solid +trunks, dark, rugged columns festooned with writhing creepers and +steeped in gloom, was so close to the bank that by looking over the +side of the ship she could see inverted in the glassy belt of water +its massive and black reflection on the reflected sky that gave the +impression of a clear blue abyss seen through a transparent film. And +when she raised her eyes the same abysmal immobility seemed to reign +over the whole sun-bathed enlargement of that lagoon which was one of +the secret places of the earth. She felt strongly her isolation. She was +so much the only being of her kind moving within this mystery that even +to herself she looked like an apparition without rights and without +defence and that must end by surrendering to those forces which seemed +to her but the expression of the unconscious genius of the place. Hers +was the most complete loneliness, charged with a catastrophic tension. +It lay about her as though she had been set apart within a magic circle. +It cut off--but it did not protect. The footsteps that she knew how to +distinguish above all others on that deck were heard suddenly behind +her. She did not turn her head. + +Since that afternoon when the gentlemen, as Lingard called them, had +been brought on board, Mrs. Travers and Lingard had not exchanged one +significant word. + +When Lingard had decided to proceed by way of negotiation she had asked +him on what he based his hope of success; and he had answered her: "On +my luck." What he really depended on was his prestige; but even if he +had been aware of such a word he would not have used it, since it would +have sounded like a boast. And, besides, he did really believe in his +luck. Nobody, either white or brown, had ever doubted his word and that, +of course, gave him great assurance in entering upon the negotiation. +But the ultimate issue of it would be always a matter of luck. He said +so distinctly to Mrs. Travers at the moment of taking leave of her, +with Jorgenson already waiting for him in the boat that was to take them +across the lagoon to Belarab's stockade. + +Startled by his decision (for it had come suddenly clinched by the words +"I believe I can do it"), Mrs. Travers had dropped her hand into +his strong open palm on which an expert in palmistry could have +distinguished other lines than the line of luck. Lingard's hand closed +on hers with a gentle pressure. She looked at him, speechless. He waited +for a moment, then in an unconsciously tender voice he said: "Well, wish +me luck then." + +She remained silent. And he still holding her hand looked surprised at +her hesitation. It seemed to her that she could not let him go, and she +didn't know what to say till it occurred to her to make use of the power +she knew she had over him. She would try it again. "I am coming with +you," she declared with decision. "You don't suppose I could remain here +in suspense for hours, perhaps." + +He dropped her hand suddenly as if it had burnt him--"Oh, yes, of +course," he mumbled with an air of confusion. One of the men over there +was her husband! And nothing less could be expected from such a woman. +He had really nothing to say but she thought he hesitated.--"Do you +think my presence would spoil everything? I assure you I am a lucky +person, too, in a way. . . . As lucky as you, at least," she had added +in a murmur and with a smile which provoked his responsive mutter--"Oh, +yes, we are a lucky pair of people."--"I count myself lucky in having +found a man like you to fight my--our battles," she said, warmly. +"Suppose you had not existed? . . . . You must let me come with you!" +For the second time before her expressed wish to stand by his side he +bowed his head. After all, if things came to the worst, she would be as +safe between him and Jorgenson as left alone on board the Emma with +a few Malay spearmen for all defence. For a moment Lingard thought +of picking up the pistols he had taken out of his belt preparatory to +joining Jorgenson in the boat, thinking it would be better to go to a +big talk completely unarmed. They were lying on the rail but he didn't +pick them up. Four shots didn't matter. They could not matter if the +world of his creation were to go to pieces. He said nothing of that to +Mrs. Travers but busied himself in giving her the means to alter her +personal appearance. It was then that the sea-chest in the deckhouse +was opened for the first time before the interested Mrs. Travers who had +followed him inside. Lingard handed to her a Malay woman's light cotton +coat with jewelled clasps to put over her European dress. It covered +half of her yachting skirt. Mrs. Travers obeyed him without comment. He +pulled out a long and wide scarf of white silk embroidered heavily on +the edges and ends, and begged her to put it over her head and arrange +the ends so as to muffle her face, leaving little more than her eyes +exposed to view.--"We are going amongst a lot of Mohammedans," he +explained.--"I see. You want me to look respectable," she jested.--"I +assure you, Mrs. Travers," he protested, earnestly, "that most of the +people there and certainly all the great men have never seen a white +woman in their lives. But perhaps you would like better one of those +other scarves? There are three in there."--"No, I like this one well +enough. They are all very gorgeous. I see that the Princess is to be +sent back to her land with all possible splendour. What a thoughtful man +you are, Captain Lingard. That child will be touched by your generosity. +. . . Will I do like this?" + +"Yes," said Lingard, averting his eyes. Mrs. Travers followed him into +the boat where the Malays stared in silence while Jorgenson, stiff and +angular, gave no sign of life, not even so much as a movement of the +eyes. Lingard settled her in the stern sheets and sat down by her side. +The ardent sunshine devoured all colours. The boat swam forward on the +glare heading for the strip of coral beach dazzling like a crescent of +metal raised to a white heat. They landed. Gravely, Jorgenson opened +above Mrs. Travers' head a big white cotton parasol and she advanced +between the two men, dazed, as if in a dream and having no other contact +with the earth but through the soles of her feet. Everything was still, +empty, incandescent, and fantastic. Then when the gate of the stockade +was thrown open she perceived an expectant and still multitude of bronze +figures draped in coloured stuffs. They crowded the patches of shade +under the three lofty forest trees left within the enclosure between the +sun-smitten empty spaces of hard-baked ground. The broad blades of the +spears decorated with crimson tufts of horsehair had a cool gleam under +the outspread boughs. To the left a group of buildings on piles with +long verandahs and immense roofs towered high in the air above the +heads of the crowd, and seemed to float in the glare, looking much less +substantial than their heavy shadows. Lingard, pointing to one of the +smallest, said in an undertone, "I lived there for a fortnight when I +first came to see Belarab"; and Mrs. Travers felt more than ever as if +walking in a dream when she perceived beyond the rails of its verandah +and visible from head to foot two figures in an armour of chain mail +with pointed steel helmets crested with white and black feathers and +guarding the closed door. A high bench draped in turkey cloth stood +in an open space of the great audience shed. Lingard led her up to it, +Jorgenson on her other side closed the parasol calmly, and when she sat +down between them the whole throng before her eyes sank to the ground +with one accord disclosing in the distance of the courtyard a lonely +figure leaning against the smooth trunk of a tree. A white cloth was +fastened round his head by a yellow cord. Its pointed ends fell on +his shoulders, framing a thin dark face with large eyes, a silk cloak +striped black and white fell to his feet, and in the distance he looked +aloof and mysterious in his erect and careless attitude suggesting +assurance and power. + +Lingard, bending slightly, whispered into Mrs. Travers' ear that that +man, apart and dominating the scene, was Daman, the supreme leader of +the Illanuns, the one who had ordered the capture of those gentlemen in +order perhaps to force his hand. The two barbarous, half-naked figures +covered with ornaments and charms, squatting at his feet with their +heads enfolded in crimson and gold handkerchiefs and with straight +swords lying across their knees, were the Pangerans who carried out the +order, and had brought the captives into the lagoon. But the two men in +chain armour on watch outside the door of the small house were Belarab's +two particular body-guards, who got themselves up in that way only on +very great occasions. They were the outward and visible sign that the +prisoners were in Belarab's keeping, and this was good, so far. The pity +was that the Great Chief himself was not there. Then Lingard assumed a +formal pose and Mrs. Travers stared into the great courtyard and with +rows and rows of faces ranged on the ground at her feet felt a little +giddy for a moment. + +Every movement had died in the crowd. Even the eyes were still under the +variegated mass of coloured headkerchiefs: while beyond the open gate a +noble palm tree looked intensely black against the glitter of the lagoon +and the pale incandescence of the sky. Mrs. Travers gazing that way +wondered at the absence of Hassim and Immada. But the girl might have +been somewhere within one of the houses with the ladies of Belarab's +stockade. Then suddenly Mrs. Travers became aware that another bench +had been brought out and was already occupied by five men dressed in +gorgeous silks, and embroidered velvets, round-faced and grave. Their +hands reposed on their knees; but one amongst them clad in a white robe +and with a large nearly black turban on his head leaned forward a little +with his chin in his hand. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes remained +fixed on the ground as if to avoid looking at the infidel woman. + +She became aware suddenly of a soft murmur, and glancing at Lingard +she saw him in an attitude of impassive attention. The momentous +negotiations had begun, and it went on like this in low undertones with +long pauses and in the immobility of all the attendants squatting on the +ground, with the distant figure of Daman far off in the shade towering +over all the assembly. But in him, too, Mrs. Travers could not detect +the slightest movement while the slightly modulated murmurs went on +enveloping her in a feeling of peace. + +The fact that she couldn't understand anything of what was said soothed +her apprehensions. Sometimes a silence fell and Lingard bending toward +her would whisper, "It isn't so easy," and the stillness would be so +perfect that she would hear the flutter of a pigeon's wing somewhere +high up in the great overshadowing trees. And suddenly one of the men +before her without moving a limb would begin another speech rendered +more mysterious still by the total absence of action or play of feature. +Only the watchfulness of the eyes which showed that the speaker was +not communing with himself made it clear that this was not a spoken +meditation but a flow of argument directed to Lingard who now and then +uttered a few words either with a grave or a smiling expression. They +were always followed by murmurs which seemed mostly to her to convey +assent; and then a reflective silence would reign again and the +immobility of the crowd would appear more perfect than before. + +When Lingard whispered to her that it was now his turn to make a +speech Mrs. Travers expected him to get up and assert himself by some +commanding gesture. But he did not. He remained seated, only his voice +had a vibrating quality though he obviously tried to restrain it, and +it travelled masterfully far into the silence. He spoke for a long time +while the sun climbing the unstained sky shifted the diminished shadows +of the trees, pouring on the heads of men its heat through the thick and +motionless foliage. Whenever murmurs arose he would stop and glancing +fearlessly at the assembly, wait till they subsided. Once or twice, they +rose to a loud hum and Mrs. Travers could hear on the other side of her +Jorgenson muttering something in his moustache. Beyond the rows of heads +Daman under the tree had folded his arms on his breast. The edge of +the white cloth concealed his forehead and at his feet the two Illanun +chiefs, half naked and bedecked with charms and ornaments of bright +feathers, of shells, with necklaces of teeth, claws, and shining beads, +remained cross-legged with their swords across their knees like two +bronze idols. Even the plumes of their head-dresses stirred not. + +"Sudah! It is finished!" A movement passed along all the heads, the +seated bodies swayed to and fro. Lingard had ceased speaking. He +remained seated for a moment looking his audience all over and when he +stood up together with Mrs. Travers and Jorgenson the whole assembly +rose from the ground together and lost its ordered formation. Some +of Belarab's retainers, young broad-faced fellows, wearing a sort of +uniform of check-patterned sarongs, black silk jackets and crimson +skull-caps set at a rakish angle, swaggered through the broken groups +and ranged themselves in two rows before the motionless Daman and his +Illanun chiefs in martial array. The members of the council who had +left their bench approached the white people with gentle smiles +and deferential movements of the hands. Their bearing was faintly +propitiatory; only the man in the big turban remained fanatically aloof, +keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. + +"I have done it," murmured Lingard to Mrs. Travers.--"Was it very +difficult?" she asked.--"No," he said, conscious in his heart that he +had strained to the fullest extent the prestige of his good name and +that habit of deference to his slightest wish established by the glamour +of his wealth and the fear of his personality in this great talk which +after all had done nothing except put off the decisive hour. He offered +Mrs. Travers his arm ready to lead her away, but at the last moment did +not move. + +With an authoritative gesture Daman had parted the ranks of Belarab's +young followers with the red skullcaps and was seen advancing toward the +whites striking into an astonished silence all the scattered groups in +the courtyard. But the broken ranks had closed behind him. The Illanun +chiefs, for all their truculent aspect, were much too prudent to attempt +to move. They had not needed for that the faint warning murmur from +Daman. He advanced alone. The plain hilt of a sword protruded from the +open edges of his cloak. The parted edges disclosed also the butts of +two flintlock pistols. The Koran in a velvet case hung on his breast by +a red cord of silk. He was pious, magnificent, and warlike, with calm +movements and a straight glance from under the hem of the simple piece +of linen covering his head. He carried himself rigidly and his bearing +had a sort of solemn modesty. Lingard said hurriedly to Mrs. Travers +that the man had met white people before and that, should he attempt to +shake hands with her, she ought to offer her own covered with the end +of her scarf.--"Why?" she asked. "Propriety?"--"Yes, it will be better," +said Lingard and the next moment Mrs. Travers felt her enveloped hand +pressed gently by slender dark fingers and felt extremely Oriental +herself when, with her face muffled to the eyes, she encountered the +lustrous black stare of the sea-robbers' leader. It was only for an +instant, because Daman turned away at once to shake hands with Lingard. +In the straight, ample folds of his robes he looked very slender facing +the robust white man. + +"Great is your power," he said, in a pleasant voice. "The white men are +going to be delivered to you." + +"Yes, they pass into my keeping," said Lingard, returning the other's +bright smile but otherwise looking grim enough with the frown which +had settled on his forehead at Daman's approach. He glanced over his +shoulder at a group of spearmen escorting the two captives who had come +down the steps from the hut. At the sight of Daman barring as it were +Lingard's way they had stopped at some distance and had closed round the +two white men. Daman also glanced dispassionately that way. + +"They were my guests," he murmured. "Please God I shall come soon to ask +you for them . . . as a friend," he added after a slight pause. + +"And please God you will not go away empty handed," said Lingard, +smoothing his brow. "After all you and I were not meant to meet only +to quarrel. Would you have preferred to see them pass into Tengga's +keeping?" + +"Tengga is fat and full of wiles," said Daman, disdainfully, "a mere +shopkeeper smitten by a desire to be a chief. He is nothing. But you and +I are men that have real power. Yet there is a truth that you and I can +confess to each other. Men's hearts grow quickly discontented. Listen. +The leaders of men are carried forward in the hands of their followers; +and common men's minds are unsteady, their desires changeable, and +their thoughts not to be trusted. You are a great chief they say. Do not +forget that I am a chief, too, and a leader of armed men." + +"I have heard of you, too," said Lingard in a composed voice. + +Daman had cast his eyes down. Suddenly he opened them very wide with an +effect that startled Mrs. Travers.--"Yes. But do you see?" Mrs. Travers, +her hand resting lightly on Lingard's arm, had the sensation of acting +in a gorgeously got up play on the brilliantly lighted stage of an +exotic opera whose accompaniment was not music but the varied strains +of the all-pervading silence.--"Yes, I see," Lingard replied with a +surprisingly confidential intonation. "But power, too, is in the hands +of a great leader." + +Mrs. Travers watched the faint movements of Daman's nostrils as though +the man were suffering from some powerful emotion, while under her +fingers Lingard's forearm in its white sleeve was as steady as a limb of +marble. Without looking at him she seemed to feel that with one movement +he could crush that nervous figure in which lived the breath of the +great desert haunted by his nomad, camel-riding ancestors.--"Power is +in the hand of God," he said, all animation dying out of his face, and +paused to wait for Lingard's "Very true," then continued with a fine +smile, "but He apportions it according to His will for His own purposes, +even to those that are not of the Faith." + +"Such being the will of God you should harbour no bitterness against +them in your heart." + +The low exclamation, "Against those!" and a slight dismissing gesture +of a meagre dark hand out of the folds of the cloak were almost +understandable to Mrs. Travers in the perfection of their melancholy +contempt, and gave Lingard a further insight into the character of +the ally secured to him by the diplomacy of Belarab. He was only half +reassured by this assumption of superior detachment. He trusted to the +man's self-interest more; for Daman no doubt looked to the reconquered +kingdom for the reward of dignity and ease. His father and grandfather +(the men of whom Jorgenson had written as having been hanged for an +example twelve years before) had been friends of Sultans, advisers of +Rulers, wealthy financiers of the great raiding expeditions of the +past. It was hatred that had turned Daman into a self-made outcast, +till Belarab's diplomacy had drawn him out from some obscure and uneasy +retreat. + +In a few words Lingard assured Daman of the complete safety of his +followers as long as they themselves made no attempt to get possession +of the stranded yacht. Lingard understood very well that the capture of +Travers and d'Alcacer was the result of a sudden fear, a move directed +by Daman to secure his own safety. The sight of the stranded yacht shook +his confidence completely. It was as if the secrets of the place had +been betrayed. After all, it was perhaps a great folly to trust any +white man, no matter how much he seemed estranged from his own people. +Daman felt he might have been the victim of a plot. Lingard's brig +appeared to him a formidable engine of war. He did not know what to +think and the motive for getting hold of the two white men was really +the wish to secure hostages. Distrusting the fierce impulses of his +followers he had hastened to put them into Belarab's keeping. But +everything in the Settlement seemed to him suspicious: Belarab's +absence, Jorgenson's refusal to make over at once the promised supply +of arms and ammunition. And now that white man had by the power of his +speech got them away from Belarab's people. So much influence filled +Daman with wonder and awe. A recluse for many years in the most obscure +corner of the Archipelago he felt himself surrounded by intrigues. But +the alliance was a great thing, too. He did not want to quarrel. He was +quite willing for the time being to accept Lingard's assurance that no +harm should befall his people encamped on the sandbanks. Attentive and +slight, he seemed to let Lingard's deliberate words sink into him. The +force of that unarmed big man seemed overwhelming. He bowed his head +slowly. + +"Allah is our refuge," he murmured, accepting the inevitable. + +He delighted Mrs. Travers not as a living being but like a clever +sketch in colours, a vivid rendering of an artist's vision of some soul, +delicate and fierce. His bright half-smile was extraordinary, sharp like +clear steel, painfully penetrating. Glancing right and left Mrs. Travers +saw the whole courtyard smitten by the desolating fury of sunshine and +peopled with shadows, their forms and colours fading in the violence of +the light. The very brown tones of roof and wall dazzled the eye. Then +Daman stepped aside. He was no longer smiling and Mrs. Travers advanced +with her hand on Lingard's arm through a heat so potent that it seemed +to have a taste, a feel, a smell of its own. She moved on as if floating +in it with Lingard's support. + +"Where are they?" she asked. + +"They are following us all right," he answered. Lingard was so certain +that the prisoners would be delivered to him on the beach that he never +glanced back till, after reaching the boat, he and Mrs. Travers turned +about. + +The group of spearmen parted right and left, and Mr. Travers and +d'Alcacer walked forward alone looking unreal and odd like their own +day-ghosts. Mr. Travers gave no sign of being aware of his wife's +presence. It was certainly a shock to him. But d'Alcacer advanced +smiling, as if the beach were a drawing room. + +With a very few paddlers the heavy old European-built boat moved +slowly over the water that seemed as pale and blazing as the sky above. +Jorgenson had perched himself in the bow. The other four white people +sat in the stern sheets, the ex-prisoners side by side in the middle. +Lingard spoke suddenly. + +"I want you both to understand that the trouble is not over yet. Nothing +is finished. You are out on my bare word." + +While Lingard was speaking Mr. Travers turned his face away but +d'Alcacer listened courteously. Not another word was spoken for the rest +of the way. The two gentlemen went up the ship's side first. Lingard +remained to help Mrs. Travers at the foot of the ladder. She pressed his +hand strongly and looking down at his upturned face: + +"This was a wonderful success," she said. + +For a time the character of his fascinated gaze did not change. It +was as if she had said nothing. Then he whispered, admiringly, "You +understand everything." + +She moved her eyes away and had to disengage her hand to which he clung +for a moment, giddy, like a man falling out of the world. + + + +III + +Mrs. Travers, acutely aware of Lingard behind her, remained gazing over +the lagoon. After a time he stepped forward and placed himself beside +her close to the rail. She went on staring at the sheet of water turned +to deep purple under the sunset sky. + +"Why have you been avoiding me since we came back from the stockade?" +she asked in a deadened voice. + +"There is nothing to tell you till Rajah Hassim and his sister Immada +return with some news," Lingard answered in the same tone. "Has my +friend succeeded? Will Belarab listen to any arguments? Will he consent +to come out of his shell? Is he on his way back? I wish I knew! . . . +Not a whisper comes from there! He may have started two days ago and +he may be now near the outskirts of the Settlement. Or he may have gone +into camp half way down, from some whim or other; or he may be already +arrived for all I know. We should not have seen him. The road from the +hills does not lead along the beach." + +He snatched nervously at the long glass and directed it at the dark +stockade. The sun had sunk behind the forests leaving the contour of the +tree-tops outlined by a thread of gold under a band of delicate green +lying across the lower sky. Higher up a faint crimson glow faded into +the darkened blue overhead. The shades of the evening deepened over the +lagoon, clung to the sides of the Emma and to the forms of the further +shore. Lingard laid the glass down. + +"Mr. d'Alcacer, too, seems to have been avoiding me," said Mrs. Travers. +"You are on very good terms with him, Captain Lingard." + +"He is a very pleasant man," murmured Lingard, absently. "But he says +funny things sometimes. He inquired the other day if there were any +playing cards on board, and when I asked him if he liked card-playing, +just for something to say, he told me with that queer smile of his that +he had read a story of some people condemned to death who passed the +time before execution playing card games with their guards." + +"And what did you say?" + +"I told him that there were probably cards on board somewhere--Jorgenson +would know. Then I asked him whether he looked on me as a gaoler. He was +quite startled and sorry for what he said." + +"It wasn't very kind of you, Captain Lingard." + +"It slipped out awkwardly and we made it up with a laugh." + +Mrs. Travers leaned her elbows on the rail and put her head into her +hands. Every attitude of that woman surprised Lingard by its enchanting +effect upon himself. He sighed, and the silence lasted for a long while. + +"I wish I had understood every word that was said that morning." + +"That morning," repeated Lingard. "What morning do you mean?" + +"I mean the morning when I walked out of Belarab's stockade on your arm, +Captain Lingard, at the head of the procession. It seemed to me that I +was walking on a splendid stage in a scene from an opera, in a gorgeous +show fit to make an audience hold its breath. You can't possibly guess +how unreal all this seemed, and how artificial I felt myself. An opera, +you know. . . ." + +"I know. I was a gold digger at one time. Some of us used to come down +to Melbourne with our pockets full of money. I daresay it was poor +enough to what you must have seen, but once I went to a show like that. +It was a story acted to music. All the people went singing through it +right to the very end." + +"How it must have jarred on your sense of reality," said Mrs. Travers, +still not looking at him. "You don't remember the name of the opera?" + +"No. I never troubled my head about it. We--our lot never did." + +"I won't ask you what the story was like. It must have appeared to +you like the very defiance of all truth. Would real people go singing +through their life anywhere except in a fairy tale?" + +"These people didn't always sing for joy," said Lingard, simply. "I +don't know much about fairy tales." + +"They are mostly about princesses," murmured Mrs. Travers. + +Lingard didn't quite hear. He bent his ear for a moment but she wasn't +looking at him and he didn't ask her to repeat her remark. "Fairy tales +are for children, I believe," he said. "But that story with music I am +telling you of, Mrs. Travers, was not a tale for children. I assure you +that of the few shows I have seen that one was the most real to me. More +real than anything in life." + +Mrs. Travers, remembering the fatal inanity of most opera librettos, was +touched by these words as if there had been something pathetic in this +readiness of response; as if she had heard a starved man talking of the +delight of a crust of dry bread. "I suppose you forgot yourself in that +story, whatever it was," she remarked in a detached tone. + +"Yes, it carried me away. But I suppose you know the feeling." + +"No. I never knew anything of the kind, not even when I was a chit of +a girl." Lingard seemed to accept this statement as an assertion of +superiority. He inclined his head slightly. Moreover, she might have +said what she liked. What pleased him most was her not looking at him; +for it enabled him to contemplate with perfect freedom the curve of her +cheek, her small ear half hidden by the clear mesh of fine hair, +the fascination of her uncovered neck. And her whole person was an +impossible, an amazing and solid marvel which somehow was not so much +convincing to the eye as to something within him that was apparently +independent of his senses. Not even for a moment did he think of her as +remote. Untouchable--possibly! But remote--no. Whether consciously or +unconsciously he took her spiritually for granted. It was materially +that she was a wonder of the sort that is at the same time familiar and +sacred. + +"No," Mrs. Travers began again, abruptly. "I never forgot myself in a +story. It was not in me. I have not even been able to forget myself on +that morning on shore which was part of my own story." + +"You carried yourself first rate," said Lingard, smiling at the nape of +her neck, her ear, the film of escaped hair, the modelling of the corner +of her eye. He could see the flutter of the dark eyelashes: and the +delicate flush on her cheek had rather the effect of scent than of +colour. + +"You approved of my behaviour." + +"Just right, I tell you. My word, weren't they all struck of a heap when +they made out what you were." + +"I ought to feel flattered. I will confess to you that I felt only half +disguised and was half angry and wholly uncomfortable. What helped me, I +suppose, was that I wanted to please. . . ." + +"I don't mean to say that they were exactly pleased," broke in Lingard, +conscientiously. "They were startled more." + +"I wanted to please you," dropped Mrs. Travers, negligently. A faint, +hoarse, and impatient call of a bird was heard from the woods as if +calling to the oncoming night. Lingard's face grew hot in the deepening +dusk. The delicate lemon yellow and ethereal green tints had vanished +from the sky and the red glow darkened menacingly. The sun had set +behind the black pall of the forest, no longer edged with a line of +gold. "Yes, I was absurdly self-conscious," continued Mrs. Travers in a +conversational tone. "And it was the effect of these clothes that you +made me put on over some of my European--I almost said disguise; because +you know in the present more perfect costume I feel curiously at home; +and yet I can't say that these things really fit me. The sleeves of this +silk under-jacket are rather tight. My shoulders feel bound, too, and as +to the sarong it is scandalously short. According to rule it should have +been long enough to fall over my feet. But I like freedom of movement. I +have had very little of what I liked in life." + +"I can hardly believe that," said Lingard. "If it wasn't for your saying +so. . . ." + +"I wouldn't say so to everybody," she said, turning her head for a +moment to Lingard and turning it away again to the dusk which seemed to +come floating over the black lagoon. Far away in its depth a couple of +feeble lights twinkled; it was impossible to say whether on the shore +or on the edge of the more distant forest. Overhead the stars were +beginning to come out, but faint yet, as if too remote to be reflected +in the lagoon. Only to the west a setting planet shone through the red +fog of the sunset glow. "It was supposed not to be good for me to have +much freedom of action. So at least I was told. But I have a suspicion +that it was only unpleasing to other people." + +"I should have thought," began Lingard, then hesitated and stopped. It +seemed to him inconceivable that everybody should not have loved to make +that woman happy. And he was impressed by the bitterness of her tone. +Mrs. Travers did not seem curious to know what he wanted to say and +after a time she added, "I don't mean only when I was a child. I don't +remember that very well. I daresay I was very objectionable as a child." + +Lingard tried to imagine her as a child. The idea was novel to him. +Her perfection seemed to have come into the world complete, mature, and +without any hesitation or weakness. He had nothing in his experience +that could help him to imagine a child of that class. The children he +knew played about the village street and ran on the beach. He had been +one of them. He had seen other children, of course, since, but he +had not been in touch with them except visually and they had not been +English children. Her childhood, like his own, had been passed in +England, and that very fact made it almost impossible for him to imagine +it. He could not even tell whether it was in town or in the country, or +whether as a child she had even seen the sea. And how could a child of +that kind be objectionable? But he remembered that a child disapproved +of could be very unhappy, and he said: + +"I am sorry." + +Mrs. Travers laughed a little. Within the muslin cage forms had turned +to blurred shadows. Amongst them the form of d'Alcacer arose and moved. +The systematic or else the morbid dumbness of Mr. Travers bored and +exasperated him, though, as a matter of fact, that gentleman's speeches +had never had the power either to entertain or to soothe his mind. + +"It's very nice of you. You have a great capacity for sympathy, but +after all I am not certain on which side your sympathies lie. With me, +or those much-tried people," said Mrs. Travers. + +"With the child," said Lingard, disregarding the bantering tone. "A +child can have a very bad time of it all to itself." + +"What can you know of it?" she asked. + +"I have my own feelings," he answered in some surprise. + +Mrs. Travers, with her back to him, was covered with confusion. Neither +could she depict to herself his childhood as if he, too, had come +into the world in the fullness of his strength and his purpose. She +discovered a certain naiveness in herself and laughed a little. He made +no sound. + +"Don't be angry," she said. "I wouldn't dream of laughing at your +feelings. Indeed your feelings are the most serious thing that ever came +in my way. I couldn't help laughing at myself--at a funny discovery I +made." + +"In the days of your childhood?" she heard Lingard's deep voice asking +after a pause. + +"Oh, no. Ages afterward. No child could have made that discovery. Do +you know the greatest difference there is between us? It is this: That I +have been living since my childhood in front of a show and that I +never have been taken in for a moment by its tinsel and its noise or +by anything that went on on the stage. Do you understand what I mean, +Captain Lingard?" + +There was a moment of silence. "What does it matter? We are no children +now." There was an infinite gentleness in Lingard's deep tones. "But if +you have been unhappy then don't tell me that it has not been made up to +you since. Surely you have only to make a sign. A woman like you." + +"You think I could frighten the whole world on to its knees?" + +"No, not frighten." The suggestion of a laugh in the deadened voice +passed off in a catch of the breath. Then he was heard beginning +soberly: "Your husband. . . ." He hesitated a little and she took the +opportunity to say coldly: + +"His name is Mr. Travers." + +Lingard didn't know how to take it. He imagined himself to have been +guilty of some sort of presumption. But how on earth was he to call the +man? After all he was her husband. That idea was disagreeable to him +because the man was also inimical in a particularly unreasonable and +galling manner. At the same time he was aware that he didn't care a +bit for his enmity and had an idea that he would not have cared for his +friendship either. And suddenly he felt very much annoyed. + +"Yes. That's the man I mean," he said in a contemptuous tone. "I don't +particularly like the name and I am sure I don't want to talk about him +more than I can help. If he hadn't been your husband I wouldn't have put +up with his manners for an hour. Do you know what would have happened to +him if he hadn't been your husband?" + +"No," said Mrs. Travers. "Do you, Captain Lingard?" + +"Not exactly," he admitted. "Something he wouldn't have liked, you may +be sure." + +"While of course he likes this very much," she observed. Lingard gave an +abrupt laugh. + +"I don't think it's in my power to do anything that he would like," he +said in a serious tone. "Forgive me my frankness, Mrs. Travers, but he +makes it very difficult sometimes for me to keep civil. Whatever I have +had to put up with in life I have never had to put up with contempt." + +"I quite believe that," said Mrs. Travers. "Don't your friends call you +King Tom?" + +"Nobody that I care for. I have no friends. Oh, yes, they call me +that . . ." + +"You have no friends?" + +"Not I," he said with decision. "A man like me has no chums." + +"It's quite possible," murmured Mrs. Travers to herself. + +"No, not even Jorgenson. Old crazy Jorgenson. He calls me King Tom, too. +You see what that's worth." + +"Yes, I see. Or rather I have heard. That poor man has no tone, and so +much depends on that. Now suppose I were to call you King Tom now +and then between ourselves," Mrs. Travers' voice proposed, distantly +tentative in the night that invested her person with a colourless +vagueness of form. + +She waited in the stillness, her elbows on the rail and her face in her +hands as if she had already forgotten what she had said. She heard at +her elbow the deep murmur of: + +"Let's hear you say it." + +She never moved the least bit. The sombre lagoon sparkled faintly with +the reflection of the stars. + +"Oh, yes, I will let you hear it," she said into the starlit space in a +voice of unaccented gentleness which changed subtly as she went on. "I +hope you will never regret that you came out of your friendless mystery +to speak to me, King Tom. How many days ago it was! And here is another +day gone. Tell me how many more of them there must be? Of these blinding +days and nights without a sound." + +"Be patient," he murmured. "Don't ask me for the impossible." + +"How do you or I know what is possible?" she whispered with a strange +scorn. "You wouldn't dare guess. But I tell you that every day that +passes is more impossible to me than the day before." + +The passion of that whisper went like a stab into his breast. "What am +I to tell you?" he murmured, as if with despair. "Remember that every +sunset makes it a day less. Do you think I want you here?" + +A bitter little laugh floated out into the starlight. Mrs. Travers heard +Lingard move suddenly away from her side. She didn't change her pose by +a hair's breadth. Presently she heard d'Alcacer coming out of the Cage. +His cultivated voice asked half playfully: + +"Have you had a satisfactory conversation? May I be told something of +it?" + +"Mr. d'Alcacer, you are curious." + +"Well, in our position, I confess. . . . You are our only refuge, +remember." + +"You want to know what we were talking about," said Mrs. Travers, +altering slowly her position so as to confront d'Alcacer whose face was +almost undistinguishable. "Oh, well, then, we talked about opera, the +realities and illusions of the stage, of dresses, of people's names, and +things of that sort." + +"Nothing of importance," he said courteously. Mrs. Travers moved forward +and he stepped to one side. Inside the Cage two Malay hands were hanging +round lanterns, the light of which fell on Mr. Travers' bowed head as he +sat in his chair. + +When they were all assembled for the evening meal Jorgenson strolled up +from nowhere in particular as his habit was, and speaking through the +muslin announced that Captain Lingard begged to be excused from joining +the company that evening. Then he strolled away. From that moment till +they got up from the table and the camp bedsteads were brought in not +twenty words passed between the members of the party within the net. The +strangeness of their situation made all attempts to exchange ideas very +arduous; and apart from that each had thoughts which it was distinctly +useless to communicate to the others. Mr. Travers had abandoned himself +to his sense of injury. He did not so much brood as rage inwardly in +a dull, dispirited way. The impossibility of asserting himself in any +manner galled his very soul. D'Alcacer was extremely puzzled. Detached +in a sense from the life of men perhaps as much even as Jorgenson +himself, he took yet a reasonable interest in the course of events and +had not lost all his sense of self-preservation. Without being able to +appreciate the exact values of the situation he was not one of those men +who are ever completely in the dark in any given set of circumstances. +Without being humorous he was a good-humoured man. His habitual, gentle +smile was a true expression. More of a European than of a Spaniard he +had that truly aristocratic nature which is inclined to credit every +honest man with something of its own nobility and in its judgment is +altogether independent of class feeling. He believed Lingard to be an +honest man and he never troubled his head to classify him, except in +the sense that he found him an interesting character. He had a sort of +esteem for the outward personality and the bearing of that seaman. He +found in him also the distinction of being nothing of a type. He was a +specimen to be judged only by its own worth. With his natural gift of +insight d'Alcacer told himself that many overseas adventurers of history +were probably less worthy because obviously they must have been less +simple. He didn't, however, impart those thoughts formally to Mrs. +Travers. In fact he avoided discussing Lingard with Mrs. Travers who, he +thought, was quite intelligent enough to appreciate the exact shade of +his attitude. If that shade was fine, Mrs. Travers was fine, too; and +there was no need to discuss the colours of this adventure. Moreover, +she herself seemed to avoid all direct discussion of the Lingard element +in their fate. D'Alcacer was fine enough to be aware that those two +seemed to understand each other in a way that was not obvious even to +themselves. Whenever he saw them together he was always much tempted to +observe them. And he yielded to the temptation. The fact of one's +life depending on the phases of an obscure action authorizes a certain +latitude of behaviour. He had seen them together repeatedly, communing +openly or apart, and there was in their way of joining each other, +in their poses and their ways of separating, something special and +characteristic and pertaining to themselves only, as if they had been +made for each other. + +What he couldn't understand was why Mrs. Travers should have put off his +natural curiosity as to her latest conference with the Man of Fate by +an incredible statement as to the nature of the conversation. Talk about +dresses, opera, people's names. He couldn't take this seriously. She +might have invented, he thought, something more plausible; or simply +have told him that this was not for him to know. She ought to have known +that he would not have been offended. Couldn't she have seen already +that he accepted the complexion of mystery in her relation to that man +completely, unquestionably; as though it had been something preordained +from the very beginning of things? But he was not annoyed with Mrs. +Travers. After all it might have been true. She would talk exactly as +she liked, and even incredibly, if it so pleased her, and make the man +hang on her lips. And likewise she was capable of making the man talk +about anything by a power of inspiration for reasons simple or perverse. +Opera! Dresses! Yes--about Shakespeare and the musical glasses! For a +mere whim or for the deepest purpose. Women worthy of the name were like +that. They were very wonderful. They rose to the occasion and sometimes +above the occasion when things were bound to occur that would be comic +or tragic (as it happened) but generally charged with trouble even to +innocent beholders. D'Alcacer thought these thoughts without bitterness +and even without irony. With his half-secret social reputation as a man +of one great passion in a world of mere intrigues he liked all women. +He liked them in their sentiment and in their hardness, in the tragic +character of their foolish or clever impulses, at which he looked with a +sort of tender seriousness. + +He didn't take a favourable view of the position but he considered Mrs. +Travers' statement about operas and dresses as a warning to keep off the +subject. For this reason he remained silent through the meal. + +When the bustle of clearing away the table was over he strolled toward +Mrs. Travers and remarked very quietly: + +"I think that in keeping away from us this evening the Man of Fate was +well inspired. We dined like a lot of Carthusian monks." + +"You allude to our silence?" + +"It was most scrupulous. If we had taken an eternal vow we couldn't have +kept it better." + +"Did you feel bored?" + +"Pas du tout," d'Alcacer assured her with whimsical gravity. "I felt +nothing. I sat in a state of blessed vacuity. I believe I was the +happiest of us three. Unless you, too, Mrs. Travers. . . ." + +"It's absolutely no use your fishing for my thoughts, Mr. d'Alcacer. If +I were to let you see them you would be appalled." + +"Thoughts really are but a shape of feelings. Let me congratulate you +on the impassive mask you can put on those horrors you say you nurse in +your breast. It was impossible to tell anything by your face." + +"You will always say flattering things." + +"Madame, my flatteries come from the very bottom of my heart. I have +given up long ago all desire to please. And I was not trying to get at +your thoughts. Whatever else you may expect from me you may count on my +absolute respect for your privacy. But I suppose with a mask such as you +can make for yourself you really don't care. The Man of Fate, I noticed, +is not nearly as good at it as you are." + +"What a pretentious name. Do you call him by it to his face, Mr. +d'Alcacer?" + +"No, I haven't the cheek," confessed d'Alcacer, equably. "And, besides, +it's too momentous for daily use. And he is so simple that he might +mistake it for a joke and nothing could be further from my thoughts. +Mrs. Travers, I will confess to you that I don't feel jocular in the +least. But what can he know about people of our sort? And when I reflect +how little people of our sort can know of such a man I am quite content +to address him as Captain Lingard. It's common and soothing and most +respectable and satisfactory; for Captain is the most empty of all +titles. What is a Captain? Anybody can be a Captain; and for Lingard +it's a name like any other. Whereas what he deserves is something +special, significant, and expressive, that would match his person, his +simple and romantic person." + +He perceived that Mrs. Travers was looking at him intently. They +hastened to turn their eyes away from each other. + +"He would like your appreciation," Mrs. Travers let drop negligently. + +"I am afraid he would despise it." + +"Despise it! Why, that sort of thing is the very breath of his +nostrils." + +"You seem to understand him, Mrs. Travers. Women have a singular +capacity for understanding. I mean subjects that interest them; because +when their imagination is stimulated they are not afraid of letting it +go. A man is more mistrustful of himself, but women are born much +more reckless. They push on and on under the protection of secrecy and +silence, and the greater the obscurity of what they wish to explore the +greater their courage." + +"Do you mean seriously to tell me that you consider me a creature of +darkness?" + +"I spoke in general," remonstrated d'Alcacer. "Anything else would +have been an impertinence. Yes, obscurity is women's best friend. Their +daring loves it; but a sudden flash of light disconcerts them. Generally +speaking, if they don't get exactly at the truth they always manage to +come pretty near to it." + +Mrs. Travers had listened with silent attention and she allowed the +silence to continue for some time after d'Alcacer had ceased. When she +spoke it was to say in an unconcerned tone that as to this subject she +had had special opportunities. Her self-possessed interlocutor +managed to repress a movement of real curiosity under an assumption +of conventional interest. "Indeed," he exclaimed, politely. "A special +opportunity. How did you manage to create it?" + +This was too much for Mrs. Travers. "I! Create it!" she exclaimed, +indignantly, but under her breath. "How on earth do you think I could +have done it?" + +Mr. d'Alcacer, as if communing with himself, was heard to murmur +unrepentantly that indeed women seldom knew how they had "done it," to +which Mrs. Travers in a weary tone returned the remark that no two +men were dense in the same way. To this Mr. d'Alcacer assented without +difficulty. "Yes, our brand presents more varieties. This, from a +certain point of view, is obviously to our advantage. We interest. . . . +Not that I imagine myself interesting to you, Mrs. Travers. But what +about the Man of Fate?" + +"Oh, yes," breathed out Mrs. Travers. + +"I see! Immensely!" said d'Alcacer in a tone of mysterious +understanding. "Was his stupidity so colossal?" + +"It was indistinguishable from great visions that were in no sense mean +and made up for him a world of his own." + +"I guessed that much," muttered d'Alcacer to himself. "But that, you +know, Mrs. Travers, that isn't good news at all to me. World of dreams, +eh? That's very bad, very dangerous. It's almost fatal, Mrs. Travers." + +"Why all this dismay? Why do you object to a world of dreams?" + +"Because I dislike the prospect of being made a sacrifice of by those +Moors. I am not an optimist like our friend there," he continued in a +low tone nodding toward the dismal figure of Mr. Travers huddled up in +the chair. "I don't regard all this as a farce and I have discovered +in myself a strong objection to having my throat cut by those gorgeous +barbarians after a lot of fatuous talk. Don't ask me why, Mrs. Travers. +Put it down to an absurd weakness." + +Mrs. Travers made a slight movement in her chair, raising her hands to +her head, and in the dim light of the lanterns d'Alcacer saw the mass of +her clear gleaming hair fall down and spread itself over her shoulders. +She seized half of it in her hands which looked very white, and with her +head inclined a little on one side she began to make a plait. + +"You are terrifying," he said after watching the movement of her fingers +for a while. + +"Yes . . . ?" she accentuated interrogatively. + +"You have the awfulness of the predestined. You, too, are the prey of +dreams." + +"Not of the Moors, then," she uttered, calmly, beginning the other +plait. D'Alcacer followed the operation to the end. Close against her, +her diaphanous shadow on the muslin reproduced her slightest movements. +D'Alcacer turned his eyes away. + +"No! No barbarian shall touch you. Because if it comes to that I believe +_he_ would be capable of killing you himself." + +A minute elapsed before he stole a glance in her direction. She was +leaning back again, her hands had fallen on her lap and her head with a +plait of hair on each side of her face, her head incredibly changed in +character and suggesting something medieval, ascetic, drooped dreamily +on her breast. + +D'Alcacer waited, holding his breath. She didn't move. In the dim gleam +of jewelled clasps, the faint sheen of gold embroideries and the shimmer +of silks, she was like a figure in a faded painting. Only her neck +appeared dazzlingly white in the smoky redness of the light. D'Alcacer's +wonder approached a feeling of awe. He was on the point of moving away +quietly when Mrs. Travers, without stirring in the least, let him hear +the words: + +"I have told him that every day seemed more difficult to live. Don't you +see how impossible this is?" + +D'Alcacer glanced rapidly across the Cage where Mr. Travers seemed to +be asleep all in a heap and presenting a ruffled appearance like a sick +bird. Nothing was distinct of him but the bald patch on the top of his +head. + +"Yes," he murmured, "it is most unfortunate. . . . I understand your +anxiety, Mrs. Travers, but . . ." + +"I am frightened," she said. + +He reflected a moment. "What answer did you get?" he asked, softly. + +"The answer was: 'Patience.'" + +D'Alcacer laughed a little.--"You may well laugh," murmured Mrs. Travers +in a tone of anguish.--"That's why I did," he whispered. "Patience! +Didn't he see the horror of it?"--"I don't know. He walked away," said +Mrs. Travers. She looked immovably at her hands clasped in her lap, +and then with a burst of distress, "Mr. d'Alcacer, what is going to +happen?"--"Ah, you are asking yourself the question at last. _That_ +will happen which cannot be avoided; and perhaps you know best what it +is."--"No. I am still asking myself what he will do."--"Ah, that is not +for me to know," declared d'Alcacer. "I can't tell you what he will do, +but I know what will happen to him."--"To him, you say! To him!" she +cried.--"He will break his heart," said d'Alcacer, distinctly, bending +a little over the chair with a slight gasp at his own audacity--and +waited. + +"Croyez-vous?" came at last from Mrs. Travers in an accent so coldly +languid that d'Alcacer felt a shudder run down his spine. + +Was it possible that she was that kind of woman, he asked himself. +Did she see nothing in the world outside herself? Was she above the +commonest kind of compassion? He couldn't suspect Mrs. Travers of +stupidity; but she might have been heartless and, like some women of +her class, quite unable to recognize any emotion in the world except her +own. D'Alcacer was shocked and at the same time he was relieved because +he confessed to himself that he had ventured very far. However, in her +humanity she was not vulgar enough to be offended. She was not the slave +of small meannesses. This thought pleased d'Alcacer who had schooled +himself not to expect too much from people. But he didn't know what to +do next. After what he had ventured to say and after the manner in +which she had met his audacity the only thing to do was to change the +conversation. Mrs. Travers remained perfectly still. "I will pretend +that I think she is asleep," he thought to himself, meditating a retreat +on tip-toe. + +He didn't know that Mrs. Travers was simply trying to recover the full +command of her faculties. His words had given her a terrible shock. +After managing to utter this defensive "croyez-vous" which came out of +her lips cold and faint as if in a last effort of dying strength, she +felt herself turn rigid and speechless. She was thinking, stiff all over +with emotion: "D'Alcacer has seen it! How much more has he been able to +see?" She didn't ask herself that question in fear or shame but with +a reckless resignation. Out of that shock came a sensation of peace. A +glowing warmth passed through all her limbs. If d'Alcacer had peered +by that smoky light into her face he might have seen on her lips a +fatalistic smile come and go. But d'Alcacer would not have dreamed of +doing such a thing, and, besides, his attention just then was drawn in +another direction. He had heard subdued exclamations, had noticed a stir +on the decks of the Emma, and even some sort of noise outside the ship. + +"These are strange sounds," he said. + +"Yes, I hear," Mrs. Travers murmured, uneasily. + +Vague shapes glided outside the Cage, barefooted, almost noiseless, +whispering Malay words secretly. + +"It seems as though a boat had come alongside," observed d'Alcacer, +lending an attentive ear. "I wonder what it means. In our +position. . . ." + +"It may mean anything," interrupted Mrs. Travers. + +"Jaffir is here," said a voice in the darkness of the after end of the +ship. Then there were some more words in which d'Alcacer's attentive ear +caught the word "surat." + +"A message of some sort has come," he said. "They will be calling +Captain Lingard. I wonder what thoughts or what dreams this call will +interrupt." He spoke lightly, looking now at Mrs. Travers who had +altered her position in the chair; and by their tones and attitudes +these two might have been on board the yacht sailing the sea in perfect +safety. "You, of course, are the one who will be told. Don't you feel a +sort of excitement, Mrs. Travers?" + +"I have been lately exhorted to patience," she said in the same easy +tone. "I can wait and I imagine I shall have to wait till the morning." + +"It can't be very late yet," he said. "Time with us has been standing +still for ever so long. And yet this may be the hour of fate." + +"Is this the feeling you have at this particular moment?" + +"I have had that feeling for a considerable number of moments already. +At first it was exciting. Now I am only moderately anxious. I have +employed my time in going over all my past life." + +"Can one really do that?" + +"Yes. I can't say I have been bored to extinction. I am still alive, as +you see; but I have done with that and I feel extremely idle. There is +only one thing I would like to do. I want to find a few words that could +convey to you my gratitude for all your friendliness in the past, at the +time when you let me see so much of you in London. I felt always +that you took me on my own terms and that so kindly that often I felt +inclined to think better of myself. But I am afraid I am wearying you, +Mrs. Travers." + +"I assure you you have never done that--in the past. And as to the +present moment I beg you not to go away. Stay by me please. We are not +going to pretend that we are sleepy at this early hour." + +D'Alcacer brought a stool close to the long chair and sat down on it. +"Oh, yes, the possible hour of fate," he said. "I have a request to +make, Mrs. Travers. I don't ask you to betray anything. What would be +the good? The issue when it comes will be plain enough. But I should +like to get a warning, just something that would give me time to pull +myself together, to compose myself as it were. I want you to promise me +that if the balance tips against us you will give me a sign. You could, +for instance, seize the opportunity when I am looking at you to put your +left hand to your forehead like this. It is a gesture that I have never +seen you make, and so. . . ." + +"Jorgenson!" Lingard's voice was heard forward where the light of a +lantern appeared suddenly. Then, after a pause, Lingard was heard again: +"Here!" + +Then the silent minutes began to go by. Mrs. Travers reclining in her +chair and d'Alcacer sitting on the stool waited motionless without a +word. Presently through the subdued murmurs and agitation pervading the +dark deck of the Emma Mrs. Travers heard a firm footstep, and, lantern +in hand, Lingard appeared outside the muslin cage. + +"Will you come out and speak to me?" he said, loudly. "Not you. The +lady," he added in an authoritative tone as d'Alcacer rose hastily from +the stool. "I want Mrs. Travers." + +"Of course," muttered d'Alcacer to himself and as he opened the door of +the Cage to let Mrs. Travers slip through he whispered to her, "This is +the hour of fate." + +She brushed past him swiftly without the slightest sign that she had +heard the words. On the after deck between the Cage and the deckhouse +Lingard waited, lantern in hand. Nobody else was visible about; but +d'Alcacer felt in the air the presence of silent and excited beings +hovering outside the circle of light. Lingard raised the lantern as Mrs. +Travers approached and d'Alcacer heard him say: + +"I have had news which you ought to know. Let us go into the deckhouse." + +D'Alcacer saw their heads lighted up by the raised lantern surrounded by +the depths of shadow with an effect of a marvellous and symbolic vision. +He heard Mrs. Travers say "I would rather not hear your news," in a +tone that made that sensitive observer purse up his lips in wonder. He +thought that she was over-wrought, that the situation had grown too much +for her nerves. But this was not the tone of a frightened person. It +flashed through his mind that she had become self-conscious, and there +he stopped in his speculation. That friend of women remained discreet +even in his thoughts. He stepped backward further into the Cage and +without surprise saw Mrs. Travers follow Lingard into the deckhouse. + + + +IV + +Lingard stood the lantern on the table. Its light was very poor. He +dropped on to the sea-chest heavily. He, too, was over-wrought. His +flannel shirt was open at the neck. He had a broad belt round his waist +and was without his jacket. Before him, Mrs. Travers, straight and tall +in the gay silks, cottons, and muslins of her outlandish dress, with the +ends of the scarf thrown over her head, hanging down in front of her, +looked dimly splendid and with a black glance out of her white face. He +said: + +"Do you, too, want to throw me over? I tell you you can't do that now." + +"I wasn't thinking of throwing you over, but I don't even know what you +mean. There seem to be no end of things I can't do. Hadn't you better +tell me of something that I could do? Have you any idea yourself what +you want from me?" + +"You can let me look at you. You can listen to me. You can speak to me." + +"Frankly, I have never shirked doing all those things, whenever you +wanted me to. You have led me . . ." + +"I led you!" cried Lingard. + +"Oh! It was my fault," she said, without anger. "I must have dreamed +then that it was you who came to me in the dark with the tale of your +impossible life. Could I have sent you away?" + +"I wish you had. Why didn't you?" + +"Do you want me to tell you that you were irresistible? How could I have +sent you away? But you! What made you come back to me with your very +heart on your lips?" + +When Lingard spoke after a time it was in jerky sentences. + +"I didn't stop to think. I had been hurt. I didn't think of you people +as ladies and gentlemen. I thought of you as people whose lives I held +in my hand. How was it possible to forget you in my trouble? It is your +face that I brought back with me on board my brig. I don't know why. I +didn't look at you more than at anybody else. It took me all my time to +keep my temper down lest it should burn you all up. I didn't want to be +rude to you people, but I found it wasn't very easy because threats were +the only argument I had. Was I very offensive, Mrs. Travers?" + +She had listened tense and very attentive, almost stern. And it was +without the slightest change of expression that she said: + +"I think that you bore yourself appropriately to the state of life to +which it has pleased God to call you." + +"What state?" muttered Lingard to himself. "I am what I am. They call me +Rajah Laut, King Tom, and such like. I think it amused you to hear it, +but I can tell you it is no joke to have such names fastened on one, +even in fun. And those very names have in them something which makes all +this affair here no small matter to anybody." + +She stood before him with a set, severe face.--"Did you call me out +in this alarming manner only to quarrel with me?"--"No, but why do you +choose this time to tell me that my coming for help to you was nothing +but impudence in your sight? Well, I beg your pardon for intruding +on your dignity."--"You misunderstood me," said Mrs. Travers, without +relaxing for a moment her contemplative severity. "Such a flattering +thing had never happened to me before and it will never happen to me +again. But believe me, King Tom, you did me too much honour. Jorgenson +is perfectly right in being angry with you for having taken a woman in +tow."--"He didn't mean to be rude," protested Lingard, earnestly. Mrs. +Travers didn't even smile at this intrusion of a point of manners into +the atmosphere of anguish and suspense that seemed always to arise +between her and this man who, sitting on the sea-chest, had raised his +eyes to her with an air of extreme candour and seemed unable to take +them off again. She continued to look at him sternly by a tremendous +effort of will. + +"How changed you are," he murmured. + +He was lost in the depths of the simplest wonder. She appeared to him +vengeful and as if turned forever into stone before his bewildered +remorse. Forever. Suddenly Mrs. Travers looked round and sat down in the +chair. Her strength failed her but she remained austere with her hands +resting on the arms of her seat. Lingard sighed deeply and dropped +his eyes. She did not dare relax her muscles for fear of breaking down +altogether and betraying a reckless impulse which lurked at the bottom +of her dismay, to seize the head of d'Alcacer's Man of Fate, press it +to her breast once, fling it far away, and vanish herself, vanish out +of life like a wraith. The Man of Fate sat silent and bowed, yet with +a suggestion of strength in his dejection. "If I don't speak," Mrs. +Travers said to herself, with great inward calmness, "I shall burst into +tears." She said aloud, "What could have happened? What have you dragged +me in here for? Why don't you tell me your news?" + +"I thought you didn't want to hear. I believe you really don't want to. +What is all this to you? I believe that you don't care anything about +what I feel, about what I do and how I end. I verily believe that you +don't care how you end yourself. I believe you never cared for your own +or anybody's feelings. I don't think it is because you are hard, I think +it is because you don't know, and don't want to know, and are angry with +life." + +He flourished an arm recklessly, and Mrs. Travers noticed for the first +time that he held a sheet of paper in his hand. + +"Is that your news there?" she asked, significantly. "It's difficult to +imagine that in this wilderness writing can have any significance. And +who on earth here could send you news on paper? Will you let me see it? +Could I understand it? Is it in English? Come, King Tom, don't look at +me in this awful way." + +She got up suddenly, not in indignation, but as if at the end of her +endurance. The jewelled clasps, the gold embroideries, gleamed elusively +amongst the folds of her draperies which emitted a mysterious rustle. + +"I can't stand this," she cried. "I can't stand being looked at like +this. No woman could stand it. No woman has ever been looked at like +this. What can you see? Hatred I could understand. What is it you think +me capable of?" + +"You are very extraordinary," murmured Lingard, who had regained his +self-possession before that outburst. + +"Very well, and you are extraordinary, too. That's understood--here we +are both under that curse and having to face together whatever may turn +up. But who on earth could have sent you this writing?" + +"Who?" repeated Lingard. "Why, that young fellow that blundered on my +brig in the dark, bringing a boatload of trouble alongside on that +quiet night in Carimata Straits. The darkest night I have ever known. An +accursed night." + +Mrs. Travers bit her lip, waited a little, then asked quietly: + +"What difficulty has he got into now?" + +"Difficulty!" cried Lingard. "He is immensely pleased with himself, the +young fool. You know, when you sent him to talk to me that evening you +left the yacht, he came with a loaded pistol in his pocket. And now he +has gone and done it." + +"Done it?" repeated Mrs. Travers blankly. "Done what?" + +She snatched from Lingard's unresisting palm the sheet of paper. While +she was smoothing it Lingard moved round and stood close at her elbow. +She ran quickly over the first lines, then her eyes steadied. At the end +she drew a quick breath and looked up at Lingard. Their faces had never +been so close together before and Mrs. Travers had a surprising second +of a perfectly new sensation. She looked away.--"Do you understand what +this news means?" he murmured. Mrs. Travers let her hand fall by her +side. "Yes," she said in a low tone. "The compact is broken." + +Carter had begun his letter without any preliminaries: + +You cleared out in the middle of the night and took the lady away with +you. You left me no proper orders. But as a sailorman I looked upon +myself as left in charge of two ships while within half a mile on that +sandbank there were more than a hundred piratical cut-throats watching +me as closely as so many tigers about to leap. Days went by without a +word of you or the lady. To leave the ships outside and go inland to +look for you was not to be thought of with all those pirates within +springing distance. Put yourself in my place. Can't you imagine my +anxiety, my sleepless nights? Each night worse than the night before. +And still no word from you. I couldn't sit still and worry my head off +about things I couldn't understand. I am a sailorman. My first duty was +to the ships. I had to put an end to this impossible situation and I +hope you will agree that I have done it in a seamanlike way. One misty +morning I moved the brig nearer the sandbank and directly the mist +cleared I opened fire on the praus of those savages which were anchored +in the channel. We aimed wide at first to give those vagabonds that +were on board a chance to clear out and join their friends camped on the +sands. I didn't want to kill people. Then we got the long gun to bear +and in about an hour we had the bottom knocked out of the two praus. The +savages on the bank howled and screamed at every shot. They are mighty +angry but I don't care for their anger now, for by sinking their praus +I have made them as harmless as a flock of lambs. They needn't starve on +their sandbank because they have two or three dugouts hauled up on +the sand and they may ferry themselves and their women to the mainland +whenever they like. + +I fancy I have acted as a seaman and as a seaman I intend to go on +acting. Now I have made the ships safe I shall set about without loss of +time trying to get the yacht off the mud. When that's done I shall arm +the boats and proceed inshore to look for you and the yacht's gentry, +and shan't rest till I know whether any or all of you are above the +earth yet. + +I hope these words will reach you. Just as we had done the business +of those praus the man you sent off that night in Carimata to stop our +chief officer came sailing in from the west with our first gig in +tow and the boat's crew all well. Your serang tells me he is a most +trustworthy messenger and that his name is Jaffir. He seems only too +anxious to try to get to you as soon as possible. I repeat, ships and +men have been made safe and I don't mean to give you up dead or alive. + +"You are quick in taking the point," said Lingard in a dull voice, while +Mrs. Travers, with the sheet of paper gripped in her hand, looked into +his face with anxious eyes. "He has been smart and no mistake." + +"He didn't know," murmured Mrs. Travers. + +"No, he didn't know. But could I take everybody into my confidence?" +protested Lingard in the same low tone. "And yet who else could I trust? +It seemed to me that he must have understood without being told. But he +is too young. He may well be proud according to his lights. He has done +that job outside very smartly--damn his smartness! And here we are with +all our lives depending on my word--which is broken now, Mrs. Travers. +It is broken." + +Mrs. Travers nodded at him slightly. + +"They would sooner have expected to see the sun and the moon fall out of +the sky," Lingard continued with repressed fire. Next moment it seemed +to have gone out of him and Mrs. Travers heard him mutter a disconnected +phrase. . . . "The world down about my ears." + +"What will you do?" she whispered. + +"What will I do?" repeated Lingard, gently. "Oh, yes--do. Mrs. Travers, +do you see that I am nothing now? Just nothing." + +He had lost himself in the contemplation of her face turned to him with +an expression of awed curiosity. The shock of the world coming down +about his ears in consequence of Carter's smartness was so terrific that +it had dulled his sensibilities in the manner of a great pain or of a +great catastrophe. What was there to look at but that woman's face, in +a world which had lost its consistency, its shape, and its promises in a +moment? + +Mrs. Travers looked away. She understood that she had put to Lingard an +impossible question. What was presenting itself to her as a problem was +to that man a crisis of feeling. Obviously Carter's action had broken +the compact entered into with Daman, and she was intelligent enough to +understand that it was the sort of thing that could not be explained +away. It wasn't horror that she felt, but a sort of consternation, +something like the discomfiture of people who have just missed their +train. It was only more intense. The real dismay had yet to make its way +into her comprehension. To Lingard it was a blow struck straight at his +heart. + +He was not angry with Carter. The fellow had acted like a seaman. +Carter's concern was for the ships. In this fatality Carter was a mere +incident. The real cause of the disaster was somewhere else, was other, +and more remote. And at the same time Lingard could not defend himself +from a feeling that it was in himself, too, somewhere in the unexplored +depths of his nature, something fatal and unavoidable. He muttered to +himself: + +"No. I am not a lucky man." + +This was but a feeble expression of the discovery of the truth that +suddenly had come home to him as if driven into his breast by a +revealing power which had decided that this was to be the end of his +fling. But he was not the man to give himself up to the examination +of his own sensations. His natural impulse was to grapple with the +circumstances and that was what he was trying to do; but he missed now +that sense of mastery which is half the battle. Conflict of some sort +was the very essence of his life. But this was something he had never +known before. This was a conflict within himself. He had to face +unsuspected powers, foes that he could not go out to meet at the gate. +They were within, as though he had been betrayed by somebody, by some +secret enemy. He was ready to look round for that subtle traitor. A +sort of blankness fell on his mind and he suddenly thought: "Why! It's +myself." + +Immediately afterward he had a clear, merciless recollection of Hassim +and Immada. He saw them far off beyond the forests. Oh, yes, they +existed--within his breast! + +"That was a night!" he muttered, looking straight at Mrs. Travers. He +had been looking at her all the time. His glance had held her under a +spell, but for a whole interminable minute he had not been aware of her +at all. At the murmur of his words she made a slight movement and he saw +her again.--"What night?" she whispered, timidly, like an intruder. She +was astonished to see him smile.--"Not like this one," he said. "You +made me notice how quiet and still it was. Yes. Listen how still it is." + +Both moved their heads slightly and seemed to lend an ear. There was not +a murmur, sigh, rustle, splash, or footfall. No whispers, no tremors, +not a sound of any kind. They might have been alone on board the Emma, +abandoned even by the ghost of Captain Jorgenson departed to rejoin +the Barque Wild Rose on the shore of the Cimmerian sea.--"It's like the +stillness of the end," said Mrs. Travers in a low, equable voice.--"Yes, +but that, too, is false," said Lingard in the same tone.--"I don't +understand," Mrs. Travers began, hurriedly, after a short silence. "But +don't use that word. Don't use it, King Tom! It frightens me by its mere +sound." + +Lingard made no sign. His thoughts were back with Hassim and Immada. The +young chief and his sister had gone up country on a voluntary mission +to persuade Belarab to return to his stockade and to take up again the +direction of affairs. They carried urgent messages from Lingard, who for +Belarab was the very embodiment of truth and force, that unquestioned +force which had permitted Belarab to indulge in all his melancholy +hesitations. But those two young people had also some personal prestige. +They were Lingard's heart's friends. They were like his children. But +beside that, their high birth, their warlike story, their wanderings, +adventures, and prospects had given them a glamour of their own. + + + +V + +The very day that Travers and d'Alcacer had come on board the Emma +Hassim and Immada had departed on their mission; for Lingard, of course, +could not think of leaving the white people alone with Jorgenson. +Jorgenson was all right, but his ineradicable habit of muttering in his +moustache about "throwing a lighted match amongst the powder barrels" +had inspired Lingard with a certain amount of mistrust. And, moreover, +he did not want to go away from Mrs. Travers. + +It was the only correct inspiration on Carter's part to send Jaffir with +his report to Lingard. That stout-hearted fighter, swimmer, and devoted +follower of the princely misfortunes of Hassim and Immada, had looked +upon his mission to catch the chief officer of the yacht (which he had +received from Lingard in Carimata) as a trifling job. It took him a +little longer than he expected but he had got back to the brig just in +time to be sent on to Lingard with Carter's letter after a couple of +hours' rest. He had the story of all the happenings from Wasub before he +left and though his face preserved its grave impassivity, in his heart +he did not like it at all. + +Fearless and wily, Jaffir was the man for difficult missions and a born +messenger--as he expressed it himself--"to bear weighty words between +great men." With his unfailing memory he was able to reproduce them +exactly, whether soft or hard, in council or in private; for he knew no +fear. With him there was no need for writing which might fall into the +hands of the enemy. If he died on the way the message would die with +him. He had also the gift of getting at the sense of any situation +and an observant eye. He was distinctly one of those men from whom +trustworthy information can be obtained by the leaders of great +enterprises. Lingard did put several questions to him, but in this +instance, of course, Jaffir could have only very little to say. Of +Carter, whom he called the "young one," he said that he looked as white +men look when they are pleased with themselves; then added without +waiting for a definite question--"The ships out there are now safe +enough, O, Rajah Laut!" There was no elation in his tone. + +Lingard looked at him blankly. When the Greatest of White Men remarked +that there was yet a price to be paid for that safety, Jaffir assented +by a "Yes, by Allah!" without losing for a moment his grim composure. +When told that he would be required to go and find his master and +the lady Immada who were somewhere in the back country, in Belarab's +travelling camp, he declared himself ready to proceed at once. He had +eaten his fill and had slept three hours on board the brig and he was +not tired. When he was young he used to get tired sometimes; but for +many years now he had known no such weakness. He did not require the +boat with paddlers in which he had come up into the lagoon. He would go +alone in a small canoe. This was no time, he remarked, for publicity and +ostentation. His pent-up anxiety burst through his lips. "It is in my +mind, Tuan, that death has not been so near them since that night when +you came sailing in a black cloud and took us all out of the stockade." + +Lingard said nothing but there was in Jaffir a faith in that white man +which was not easily shaken. + +"How are you going to save them this time, O Rajah Laut?" he asked, +simply. + +"Belarab is my friend," murmured Lingard. + +In his anxiety Jaffir was very outspoken. "A man of peace!" he exclaimed +in a low tone. "Who could be safe with a man like that?" he asked, +contemptuously. + +"There is no war," said Lingard + +"There is suspicion, dread, and revenge, and the anger of armed men," +retorted Jaffir. "You have taken the white prisoners out of their hands +by the force of your words alone. Is that so, Tuan?" + +"Yes," said Lingard. + +"And you have them on board here?" asked Jaffir, with a glance over his +shoulder at the white and misty structure within which by the light of a +small oil flame d'Alcacer and Mrs. Travers were just then conversing. + +"Yes, I have them here." + +"Then, Rajah Laut," whispered Jaffir, "you can make all safe by giving +them back." + +"Can I do that?" were the words breathed out through Lingard's lips to +the faithful follower of Hassim and Immada. + +"Can you do anything else?" was the whispered retort of Jaffir the +messenger accustomed to speak frankly to the great of the earth. "You +are a white man and you can have only one word. And now I go." + +A small, rough dug-out belonging to the Emma had been brought round to +the ladder. A shadowy calash hovering respectfully in the darkness of +the deck had already cleared his throat twice in a warning manner. + +"Yes, Jaffir, go," said Lingard, "and be my friend." + +"I am the friend of a great prince," said the other, sturdily. "But you, +Rajah Laut, were even greater. And great you will remain while you are +with us, people of this sea and of this land. But what becomes of the +strength of your arms before your own white people? Where does it go to, +I say? Well, then, we must trust in the strength of your heart." + +"I hope that will never fail," said Lingard, and Jaffir emitted a grunt +of satisfaction. "But God alone sees into men's hearts." + +"Yes. Our refuge is with Allah," assented Jaffir, who had acquired +the habit of pious turns of speech in the frequentation of professedly +religious men, of whom there were many in Belarab's stockade. As a +matter of fact, he reposed all his trust in Lingard who had with him +the prestige of a providential man sent at the hour of need by heaven +itself. He waited a while, then: "What is the message I am to take?" he +asked. + +"Tell the whole tale to the Rajah Hassim," said Lingard. "And tell him +to make his way here with the lady his sister secretly and with speed. +The time of great trouble has come. Let us, at least, be together." + +"Right! Right!" Jaffir approved, heartily. "To die alone under the +weight of one's enemies is a dreadful fate." + +He stepped back out of the sheen of the lamp by which they had been +talking and making his way down into the small canoe he took up a paddle +and without a splash vanished on the dark lagoon. + +It was then that Mrs. Travers and d'Alcacer heard Lingard call aloud for +Jorgenson. Instantly the familiar shadow stood at Lingard's elbow and +listened in detached silence. Only at the end of the tale it marvelled +audibly: "Here's a mess for you if you like." But really nothing in the +world could astonish or startle old Jorgenson. He turned away muttering +in his moustache. Lingard remained with his chin in his hand and +Jaffir's last words took gradual possession of his mind. Then brusquely +he picked up the lamp and went to seek Mrs. Travers. He went to seek her +because he actually needed her bodily presence, the sound of her voice, +the dark, clear glance of her eyes. She could do nothing for him. On +his way he became aware that Jorgenson had turned out the few Malays +on board the Emma and was disposing them about the decks to watch +the lagoon in all directions. On calling Mrs. Travers out of the Cage +Lingard was, in the midst of his mental struggle, conscious of a certain +satisfaction in taking her away from d'Alcacer. He couldn't spare any of +her attention to any other man, not the least crumb of her time, not +the least particle of her thought! He needed it all. To see it withdrawn +from him for the merest instant was irritating--seemed a disaster. + +D'Alcacer, left alone, wondered at the imperious tone of Lingard's call. +To this observer of shades the fact seemed considerable. "Sheer nerves," +he concluded, to himself. "The man is overstrung. He must have had some +sort of shock." But what could it be--he wondered to himself. In the +tense stagnation of those days of waiting the slightest tremor had an +enormous importance. D'Alcacer did not seek his camp bedstead. He didn't +even sit down. With the palms of his hands against the edge of the table +he leaned back against it. In that negligent attitude he preserved an +alert mind which for a moment wondered whether Mrs. Travers had +not spoiled Lingard a little. Yet in the suddenness of the forced +association, where, too, d'Alcacer was sure there was some moral problem +in the background, he recognized the extreme difficulty of weighing +accurately the imperious demands against the necessary reservations, the +exact proportions of boldness and caution. And d'Alcacer admired upon +the whole Mrs. Travers' cleverness. + +There could be no doubt that she had the situation in her hands. That, +of course, did not mean safety. She had it in her hands as one may hold +some highly explosive and uncertain compound. D'Alcacer thought of her +with profound sympathy and with a quite unselfish interest. Sometimes +in a street we cross the path of personalities compelling sympathy and +wonder but for all that we don't follow them home. D'Alcacer refrained +from following Mrs. Travers any further. He had become suddenly aware +that Mr. Travers was sitting up on his camp bedstead. He must have done +it very suddenly. Only a moment before he had appeared plunged in +the deepest slumber, and the stillness for a long time now had been +perfectly unbroken. D'Alcacer was startled enough for an exclamation +and Mr. Travers turned his head slowly in his direction. D'Alcacer +approached the bedstead with a certain reluctance. + +"Awake?" he said. + +"A sudden chill," said Mr. Travers. "But I don't feel cold now. Strange! +I had the impression of an icy blast." + +"Ah!" said d'Alcacer. + +"Impossible, of course!" went on Mr. Travers. "This stagnating air never +moves. It clings odiously to one. What time is it?" + +"Really, I don't know." + +"The glass of my watch was smashed on that night when we were so +treacherously assailed by the savages on the sandbank," grumbled Mr. +Travers. + +"I must say I was never so surprised in my life," confessed d'Alcacer. +"We had stopped and I was lighting a cigar, you may remember." + +"No," said Mr. Travers. "I had just then pulled out my watch. Of course +it flew out of my hand but it hung by the chain. Somebody trampled on +it. The hands are broken off short. It keeps on ticking but I can't tell +the time. It's absurd. Most provoking." + +"Do you mean to say," asked d'Alcacer, "that you have been winding it up +every evening?" + +Mr. Travers looked up from his bedstead and he also seemed surprised. +"Why! I suppose I have." He kept silent for a while. "It isn't so +much blind habit as you may think. My habits are the outcome of strict +method. I had to order my life methodically. You know very well, my dear +d'Alcacer, that without strict method I would not have been able to get +through my work and would have had no time at all for social duties, +which, of course, are of very great importance. I may say that, +materially, method has been the foundation of my success in public life. +There were never any empty moments in my day. And now this! . . ." He +looked all round the Cage. . . . "Where's my wife?" he asked. + +"I was talking to her only a moment ago," answered d'Alcacer. "I don't +know the time. My watch is on board the yacht; but it isn't late, you +know." + +Mr. Travers flung off with unwonted briskness the light cotton sheet +which covered him. He buttoned hastily the tunic which he had unfastened +before lying down, and just as d'Alcacer was expecting him to swing +his feet to the deck impetuously, he lay down again on the pillow and +remained perfectly still. + +D'Alcacer waited awhile and then began to pace the Cage. After a couple +of turns he stopped and said, gently: + +"I am afraid, Travers, you are not very well." + +"I don't know what illness is," answered the voice from the pillow to +the great relief of d'Alcacer who really had not expected an answer. +"Good health is a great asset in public life. Illness may make you miss +a unique opportunity. I was never ill." + +All this came out deadened in tone, as if the speaker's face had been +buried in the pillow. D'Alcacer resumed his pacing. + +"I think I asked you where my wife was," said the muffled voice. + +With great presence of mind d'Alcacer kept on pacing the Cage as if +he had not heard.--"You know, I think she is mad," went on the muffled +voice. "Unless I am." + +Again d'Alcacer managed not to interrupt his regular pacing. "Do you +know what I think?" he said, abruptly. "I think, Travers, that you +don't want to talk about her. I think that you don't want to talk about +anything. And to tell you the truth I don't want to, either." + +D'Alcacer caught a faint sigh from the pillow and at the same time saw +a small, dim flame appear outside the Cage. And still he kept on his +pacing. Mrs. Travers and Lingard coming out of the deckhouse stopped +just outside the door and Lingard stood the deck-lamp on its roof. They +were too far from d'Alcacer to be heard, but he could make them out: +Mrs. Travers, as straight as an arrow, and the heavy bulk of the man who +faced her with a lowered head. He saw it in profile against the light +and as if deferential in its slight droop. They were looking straight at +each other. Neither of them made the slightest gesture. + +"There is that in me," Lingard murmured, deeply, "which would set my +heart harder than a stone. I am King Tom, Rajah Laut, and fit to +look any man hereabouts in the face. I have my name to take care of. +Everything rests on that." + +"Mr. d'Alcacer would express this by saying that everything rested on +honour," commented Mrs. Travers with lips that did not tremble, though +from time to time she could feel the accelerated beating of her heart. + +"Call it what you like. It's something that a man needs to draw a free +breath. And look!--as you see me standing before you here I care for it +no longer." + +"But I do care for it," retorted Mrs. Travers. "As you see me standing +here--I do care. This is something that is your very own. You have a +right to it. And I repeat I do care for it." + +"Care for something of my own," murmured Lingard, very close to her +face. "Why should you care for my rights?" + +"Because," she said, holding her ground though their foreheads were +nearly touching, "because if I ever get back to my life I don't want to +make it more absurd by real remorse." + +Her tone was soft and Lingard received the breath of those words like a +caress on his face. D'Alcacer, in the Cage, made still another effort +to keep up his pacing. He didn't want to give Mr. Travers the slightest +excuse for sitting up again and looking round. + +"That I should live to hear anybody say they cared anything for what +was mine!" whispered Lingard. "And that it should be you--you, who have +taken all hardness out of me." + +"I don't want your heart to be made hard. I want it to be made firm." + +"You couldn't have said anything better than what you have said just now +to make it steady," flowed the murmur of Lingard's voice with something +tender in its depth. "Has anybody ever had a friend like this?" he +exclaimed, raising his head as if taking the starry night to witness. + +"And I ask myself is it possible that there should be another man on +earth that I could trust as I trust you. I say to you: Yes! Go and save +what you have a right to and don't forget to be merciful. I will not +remind you of our perfect innocence. The earth must be small indeed that +we should have blundered like this into your life. It's enough to make +one believe in fatality. But I can't find it in me to behave like a +fatalist, to sit down with folded hands. Had you been another kind of +man I might have been too hopeless or too disdainful. Do you know what +Mr. d'Alcacer calls you?" + +Inside the Cage d'Alcacer, casting curious glances in their direction, +saw Lingard shake his head and thought with slight uneasiness: "He is +refusing her something." + +"Mr. d'Alcacer's name for you is the 'Man of Fate'," said Mrs. Travers, +a little breathlessly. + +"A mouthful. Never mind, he is a gentleman. It's what you. . . ." + +"I call you all but by your Christian name," said Mrs. Travers, hastily. +"Believe me, Mr. d'Alcacer understands you." + +"He is all right," interjected Lingard. + +"And he is innocent. I remember what you have said--that the innocent +must take their chance. Well, then, do what is right." + +"You think it would be right? You believe it? You feel it?" + +"At this time, in this place, from a man like you--Yes, it is right." + +Lingard thought that woman wonderfully true to him and wonderfully +fearless with herself. The necessity to take back the two captives to +the stockade was so clear and unavoidable now, that he believed nothing +on earth could have stopped him from doing so, but where was there +another woman in the world who would have taken it like this? And he +reflected that in truth and courage there is found wisdom. It seemed to +him that till Mrs. Travers came to stand by his side he had never known +what truth and courage and wisdom were. With his eyes on her face and +having been told that in her eyes he appeared worthy of being both +commanded and entreated, he felt an instant of complete content, a +moment of, as it were, perfect emotional repose. + +During the silence Mrs. Travers with a quick side-glance noticed +d'Alcacer as one sees a man in a mist, his mere dark shape arrested +close to the muslin screen. She had no doubt that he was looking in +their direction and that he could see them much more plainly than she +could see him. Mrs. Travers thought suddenly how anxious he must be; and +she remembered that he had begged her for some sign, for some warning, +beforehand, at the moment of crisis. She had understood very well his +hinted request for time to get prepared. If he was to get more than a +few minutes, _this_ was the moment to make him a sign--the sign he had +suggested himself. Mrs. Travers moved back the least bit so as to let +the light fall in front of her and with a slow, distinct movement she +put her left hand to her forehead. + +"Well, then," she heard Lingard's forcible murmur, "well, then, Mrs. +Travers, it must be done to-night." + +One may be true, fearless, and wise, and yet catch one's breath +before the simple finality of action. Mrs. Travers caught her breath: +"To-night! To-night!" she whispered. D'Alcacer's dark and misty +silhouette became more blurred. He had seen her sign and had retreated +deeper within the Cage. + +"Yes, to-night," affirmed Lingard. "Now, at once, within the hour, this +moment," he murmured, fiercely, following Mrs. Travers in her recoiling +movement. She felt her arm being seized swiftly. "Don't you see that +if it is to do any good, that if they are not to be delivered to mere +slaughter, it must be done while all is dark ashore, before an armed mob +in boats comes clamouring alongside? Yes. Before the night is an hour +older, so that I may be hammering at Belarab's gate while all the +Settlement is still asleep." + +Mrs. Travers didn't dream of protesting. For the moment she was unable +to speak. This man was very fierce and just as suddenly as it had been +gripped (making her think incongruously in the midst of her agitation +that there would be certainly a bruise there in the morning) she felt +her arm released and a penitential tone come into Lingard's murmuring +voice. + +"And even now it's nearly too late! The road was plain, but I saw you on +it and my heart failed me. I was there like an empty man and I dared +not face you. You must forgive me. No, I had no right to doubt you for +a moment. I feel as if I ought to go on my knees and beg your pardon for +forgetting what you are, for daring to forget." + +"Why, King Tom, what is it?" + +"It seems as if I had sinned," she heard him say. He seized her by the +shoulders, turned her about, moved her forward a step or two. His hands +were heavy, his force irresistible, though he himself imagined he was +handling her gently. "Look straight before you," he growled into her +ear. "Do you see anything?" Mrs. Travers, passive between the rigid +arms, could see nothing but, far off, the massed, featureless shadows of +the shore. + +"No, I see nothing," she said. + +"You can't be looking the right way," she heard him behind her. And now +she felt her head between Lingard's hands. He moved it the least bit to +the right. "There! See it?" + +"No. What am I to look for?" + +"A gleam of light," said Lingard, taking away his hands suddenly. "A +gleam that will grow into a blaze before our boat can get half way +across the lagoon." + +Even as Lingard spoke Mrs. Travers caught sight of a red spark far +away. She had looked often enough at the Settlement, as on the face of +a painting on a curtain, to have its configuration fixed in her mind, +to know that it was on the beach at its end furthest from Belarab's +stockade. + +"The brushwood is catching," murmured Lingard in her ear. "If they had +some dry grass the whole pile would be blazing by now." + +"And this means. . . ." + +"It means that the news has spread. And it is before Tengga's enclosure +on his end of the beach. That's where all the brains of the Settlement +are. It means talk and excitement and plenty of crafty words. Tengga's +fire! I tell you, Mrs. Travers, that before half an hour has passed +Daman will be there to make friends with the fat Tengga, who is ready to +say to him, 'I told you so'." + +"I see," murmured Mrs. Travers. Lingard drew her gently to the rail. + +"And now look over there at the other end of the beach where the shadows +are heaviest. That is Belarab's fort, his houses, his treasure, his +dependents. That's where the strength of the Settlement is. I kept it +up. I made it last. But what is it now? It's like a weapon in the hand +of a dead man. And yet it's all we have to look to, if indeed there is +still time. I swear to you I wouldn't dare land them in daylight for +fear they should be slaughtered on the beach." + +"There is no time to lose," whispered Mrs. Travers, and Lingard, too, +spoke very low. + +"No, not if I, too, am to keep what is my right. It's you who have said +it." + +"Yes, I have said it," she whispered, without lifting her head. Lingard +made a brusque movement at her elbow and bent his head close to her +shoulder. + +"And I who mistrusted you! Like Arabs do to their great men, I ought to +kiss the hem of your robe in repentance for having doubted the greatness +of your heart." + +"Oh! my heart!" said Mrs. Travers, lightly, still gazing at the fire, +which had suddenly shot up to a tall blaze. "I can assure you it has +been of very little account in the world." She paused for a moment to +steady her voice, then said, firmly, "Let's get this over." + +"To tell you the truth the boat has been ready for some time." + +"Well, then. . . ." + +"Mrs. Travers," said Lingard with an effort, "they are people of your +own kind." And suddenly he burst out: "I cannot take them ashore bound +hand and foot." + +"Mr. d'Alcacer knows. You will find him ready. Ever since the beginning +he has been prepared for whatever might happen." + +"He is a man," said Lingard with conviction. "But it's of the other that +I am thinking." + +"Ah, the other," she repeated. "Then, what about my thoughts? Luckily we +have Mr. d'Alcacer. I shall speak to him first." + +She turned away from the rail and moved toward the Cage. + +"Jorgenson," the voice of Lingard resounded all along the deck, "get a +light on the gangway." Then he followed Mrs. Travers slowly. + + + +VI + +D'Alcacer, after receiving his warning, stepped back and leaned against +the edge of the table. He could not ignore in himself a certain emotion. +And indeed, when he had asked Mrs. Travers for a sign he expected to +be moved--but he had not expected the sign to come so soon. He expected +this night to pass like other nights, in broken slumbers, bodily +discomfort, and the unrest of disconnected thinking. At the same time +he was surprised at his own emotion. He had flattered himself on the +possession of more philosophy. He thought that this famous sense of +self-preservation was a queer thing, a purely animal thing. "For, as +a thinking man," he reflected, "I really ought not to care." It was +probably the unusual that affected him. Clearly. If he had been lying +seriously ill in a room in a hotel and had overheard some ominous +whispers he would not have cared in the least. Ah, but then he would +have been ill--and in illness one grows so indifferent. Illness is a +great help to unemotional behaviour, which of course is the correct +behaviour for a man of the world. He almost regretted he was not very +ill. But, then, Mr. Travers was obviously ill and it did not seem to +help him much. D'Alcacer glanced at the bedstead where Mr. Travers +preserved an immobility which struck d'Alcacer as obviously affected. +He mistrusted it. Generally he mistrusted Mr. Travers. One couldn't tell +what he would do next. Not that he could do much one way or another, but +that somehow he threatened to rob the situation of whatever dignity it +may have had as a stroke of fate, as a call on courage. Mr. d'Alcacer, +acutely observant and alert for the slightest hints, preferred to look +upon himself as the victim not of a swindle but of a rough man naively +engaged in a contest with heaven's injustice. D'Alcacer did not examine +his heart, but some lines of a French poet came into his mind, to the +effect that in all times those who fought with an unjust heaven had +possessed the secret admiration and love of men. He didn't go so far as +love but he could not deny to himself that his feeling toward Lingard +was secretly friendly and--well, appreciative. Mr. Travers sat up +suddenly. What a horrible nuisance, thought d'Alcacer, fixing his eyes +on the tips of his shoes with the hope that perhaps the other would lie +down again. Mr. Travers spoke. + +"Still up, d'Alcacer?" + +"I assure you it isn't late. It's dark at six, we dined before seven, +that makes the night long and I am not a very good sleeper; that is, I +cannot go to sleep till late in the night." + +"I envy you," said Mr. Travers, speaking with a sort of drowsy apathy. +"I am always dropping off and the awakenings are horrible." + +D'Alcacer, raising his eyes, noticed that Mrs. Travers and Lingard had +vanished from the light. They had gone to the rail where d'Alcacer +could not see them. Some pity mingled with his vexation at Mr. Travers' +snatchy wakefulness. There was something weird about the man, he +reflected. "Jorgenson," he began aloud. + +"What's that?" snapped Mr. Travers. + +"It's the name of that lanky old store-keeper who is always about the +decks." + +"I haven't seen him. I don't see anybody. I don't know anybody. I prefer +not to notice." + +"I was only going to say that he gave me a pack of cards; would you like +a game of piquet?" + +"I don't think I could keep my eyes open," said Mr. Travers in an +unexpectedly confidential tone. "Isn't it funny, d'Alcacer? And then I +wake up. It's too awful." + +D'Alcacer made no remark and Mr. Travers seemed not to have expected +any. + +"When I said my wife was mad," he began, suddenly, causing d'Alcacer +to start, "I didn't mean it literally, of course." His tone sounded +slightly dogmatic and he didn't seem to be aware of any interval during +which he had appeared to sleep. D'Alcacer was convinced more than ever +that he had been shamming, and resigned himself wearily to listen, +folding his arms across his chest. "What I meant, really," continued Mr. +Travers, "was that she is the victim of a craze. Society is subject to +crazes, as you know very well. They are not reprehensible in themselves, +but the worst of my wife is that her crazes are never like those of the +people with whom she naturally associates. They generally run counter to +them. This peculiarity has given me some anxiety, you understand, in the +position we occupy. People will begin to say that she is eccentric. Do +you see her anywhere, d'Alcacer?" + +D'Alcacer was thankful to be able to say that he didn't see Mrs. +Travers. He didn't even hear any murmurs, though he had no doubt that +everybody on board the Emma was wide awake by now. But Mr. Travers +inspired him with invincible mistrust and he thought it prudent to add: + +"You forget that your wife has a room in the deckhouse." + +This was as far as he would go, for he knew very well that she was not +in the deckhouse. Mr. Travers, completely convinced by the statement, +made no sound. But neither did he lie down again. D'Alcacer gave himself +up to meditation. The night seemed extremely oppressive. At Lingard's +shout for Jorgenson, that in the profound silence struck his ears +ominously, he raised his eyes and saw Mrs. Travers outside the door of +the Cage. He started forward but she was already within. He saw she was +moved. She seemed out of breath and as if unable to speak at first. + +"Hadn't we better shut the door?" suggested d'Alcacer. + +"Captain Lingard's coming in," she whispered to him. "He has made up his +mind." + +"That's an excellent thing," commented d'Alcacer, quietly. "I conclude +from this that we shall hear something." + +"You shall hear it all from me," breathed out Mrs. Travers. + +"Ah!" exclaimed d'Alcacer very low. + +By that time Lingard had entered, too, and the decks of the Emma were +all astir with moving figures. Jorgenson's voice was also heard giving +directions. For nearly a minute the four persons within the Cage +remained motionless. A shadowy Malay in the gangway said suddenly: +"Sudah, Tuan," and Lingard murmured, "Ready, Mrs. Travers." + +She seized d'Alcacer's arm and led him to the side of the Cage furthest +from the corner in which Mr. Travers' bed was placed, while Lingard +busied himself in pricking up the wick of the Cage lantern as if it had +suddenly occurred to him that this, whatever happened, should not be a +deed of darkness. Mr. Travers did nothing but turn his head to look over +his shoulder. + +"One moment," said d'Alcacer, in a low tone and smiling at Mrs. Travers' +agitation. "Before you tell me anything let me ask you: 'Have _you_ made +up your mind?'" He saw with much surprise a widening of her eyes. Was it +indignation? A pause as of suspicion fell between those two people. Then +d'Alcacer said apologetically: "Perhaps I ought not to have asked that +question," and Lingard caught Mrs. Travers' words, "Oh, I am not afraid +to answer that question." + +Then their voices sank. Lingard hung the lamp up again and stood idle in +the revived light; but almost immediately he heard d'Alcacer calling him +discreetly. + +"Captain Lingard!" + +He moved toward them at once. At the same instant Mr. Travers' head +pivoted away from the group to its frontal position. + +D'Alcacer, very serious, spoke in a familiar undertone. + +"Mrs. Travers tells me that we must be delivered up to those Moors on +shore." + +"Yes, there is nothing else for it," said Lingard. + +"I confess I am a bit startled," said d'Alcacer; but except for a +slightly hurried utterance nobody could have guessed at anything +resembling emotion. + +"I have a right to my good name," said Lingard, also very calm, while +Mrs. Travers near him, with half-veiled eyes, listened impassive like a +presiding genius. + +"I wouldn't question that for a moment," conceded d'Alcacer. "A point +of honour is not to be discussed. But there is such a thing as humanity, +too. To be delivered up helplessly. . . ." + +"Perhaps!" interrupted Lingard. "But you needn't feel hopeless. I am +not at liberty to give up my life for your own. Mrs. Travers knows why. +That, too, is engaged." + +"Always on your honour?" + +"I don't know. A promise is a promise." + +"Nobody can be held to the impossible," remarked d'Alcacer. + +"Impossible! What is impossible? I don't know it. I am not a man to talk +of the impossible or dodge behind it. I did not bring you here." + +D'Alcacer lowered his head for a moment. "I have finished," he said, +gravely. "That much I had to say. I hope you don't think I have appeared +unduly anxious." + +"It's the best policy, too." Mrs. Travers made herself heard suddenly. +Nothing of her moved but her lips, she did not even raise her eyes. +"It's the only possible policy. You believe me, Mr. d'Alcacer? . . ." He +made an almost imperceptible movement of the head. . . . "Well, then, +I put all my hope in you, Mr. d'Alcacer, to get this over as easily as +possible and save us all from some odious scene. You think perhaps that +it is I who ought to. . . ." + +"No, no! I don't think so," interrupted d'Alcacer. "It would be +impossible." + +"I am afraid it would," she admitted, nervously. + +D'Alcacer made a gesture as if to beg her to say no more and at once +crossed over to Mr. Travers' side of the Cage. He did not want to give +himself time to think about his task. Mr. Travers was sitting up on +the camp bedstead with a light cotton sheet over his legs. He stared at +nothing, and on approaching him d'Alcacer disregarded the slight sinking +of his own heart at this aspect which seemed to be that of extreme +terror. "This is awful," he thought. The man kept as still as a hare in +its form. + +The impressed d'Alcacer had to make an effort to bring himself to tap +him lightly on the shoulder. + +"The moment has come, Travers, to show some fortitude," he said with +easy intimacy. Mr. Travers looked up swiftly. "I have just been talking +to your wife. She had a communication from Captain Lingard for us both. +It remains for us now to preserve as much as possible our dignity. I +hope that if necessary we will both know how to die." + +In a moment of profound stillness, d'Alcacer had time to wonder whether +his face was as stony in expression as the one upturned to him. But +suddenly a smile appeared on it, which was certainly the last thing +d'Alcacer expected to see. An indubitable smile. A slightly contemptuous +smile. + +"My wife has been stuffing your head with some more of her nonsense." +Mr. Travers spoke in a voice which astonished d'Alcacer as much as the +smile, a voice that was not irritable nor peevish, but had a distinct +note of indulgence. "My dear d'Alcacer, that craze has got such a hold +of her that she would tell you any sort of tale. Social impostors, +mediums, fortune-tellers, charlatans of all sorts do obtain a strange +influence over women. You have seen that sort of thing yourself. I had a +talk with her before dinner. The influence that bandit has got over her +is incredible. I really believe the fellow is half crazy himself. They +often are, you know. I gave up arguing with her. Now, what is it you +have got to tell me? But I warn you that I am not going to take it +seriously." + +He rejected briskly the cotton sheet, put his feet to the ground and +buttoned his jacket. D'Alcacer, as he talked, became aware by the slight +noise behind him that Mrs. Travers and Lingard were leaving the Cage, +but he went on to the end and then waited anxiously for the answer. + +"See! She has followed him out on deck," were Mr. Travers' first words. +"I hope you understand that it is a mere craze. You can't help seeing +that. Look at her costume. She simply has lost her head. Luckily the +world needn't know. But suppose that something similar had happened at +home. It would have been extremely awkward. Oh! yes, I will come. I will +go anywhere. I can't stand this hulk, those people, this infernal Cage. +I believe I should fall ill if I were to remain here." + +The inward detached voice of Jorgenson made itself heard near the +gangway saying: "The boat has been waiting for this hour past, King +Tom." + +"Let us make a virtue of necessity and go with a good grace," said +d'Alcacer, ready to take Mr. Travers under the arm persuasively, for he +did not know what to make of that gentleman. + +But Mr. Travers seemed another man. "I am afraid, d'Alcacer, that you, +too, are not very strong-minded. I am going to take a blanket off this +bedstead. . . ." He flung it hastily over his arm and followed d'Alcacer +closely. "What I suffer mostly from, strange to say, is cold." + +Mrs. Travers and Lingard were waiting near the gangway. To everybody's +extreme surprise Mr. Travers addressed his wife first. + +"You were always laughing at people's crazes," was what he said, "and +now you have a craze of your own. But we won't discuss that." + +D'Alcacer passed on, raising his cap to Mrs. Travers, and went down the +ship's side into the boat. Jorgenson had vanished in his own manner like +an exorcised ghost, and Lingard, stepping back, left husband and wife +face to face. + +"Did you think I was going to make a fuss?" asked Mr. Travers in a very +low voice. "I assure you I would rather go than stay here. You didn't +think that? You have lost all sense of reality, of probability. I was +just thinking this evening that I would rather be anywhere than here +looking on at you. At your folly. . . ." + +Mrs. Travers' loud, "Martin!" made Lingard wince, caused d'Alcacer +to lift his head down there in the boat, and even Jorgenson, forward +somewhere out of sight, ceased mumbling in his moustache. The only +person who seemed not to have heard that exclamation was Mr. Travers +himself, who continued smoothly: + +". . . at the aberration of your mind, you who seemed so superior to +common credulities. You are not yourself, not at all, and some day you +will admit to me that . . . No, the best thing will be to forget it, as +you will soon see yourself. We shall never mention that subject in the +future. I am certain you will be only too glad to agree with me on that +point." + +"How far ahead are you looking?" asked Mrs. Travers, finding her voice +and even the very tone in which she would have addressed him had they +been about to part in the hall of their town house. She might have been +asking him at what time he expected to be home, while a footman held the +door open and the brougham waited in the street. + +"Not very far. This can't last much longer." Mr. Travers made a movement +as if to leave her exactly as though he were rather pressed to keep +an appointment. "By the by," he said, checking himself, "I suppose the +fellow understands thoroughly that we are wealthy. He could hardly doubt +that." + +"It's the last thought that would enter his head," said Mrs. Travers. + +"Oh, yes, just so," Mr. Travers allowed a little impatience to pierce +under his casual manner. "But I don't mind telling you that I have had +enough of this. I am prepared to make--ah!--to make concessions. A large +pecuniary sacrifice. Only the whole position is so absurd! He might +conceivably doubt my good faith. Wouldn't it be just as well if you, +with your particular influence, would hint to him that with me he would +have nothing to fear? I am a man of my word." + +"That is the first thing he would naturally think of any man," said Mrs. +Travers. + +"Will your eyes never be opened?" Mr. Travers began, irritably, then +gave it up. "Well, so much the better then. I give you a free hand." + +"What made you change your attitude like this?" asked Mrs. Travers, +suspiciously. + +"My regard for you," he answered without hesitation. + +"I intended to join you in your captivity. I was just trying to persuade +him. . . ." + +"I forbid you absolutely," whispered Mr. Travers, forcibly. "I am glad +to get away. I don't want to see you again till your craze is over." + +She was confounded by his secret vehemence. But instantly succeeding his +fierce whisper came a short, inane society laugh and a much louder, "Not +that I attach any importance . . ." + +He sprang away, as it were, from his wife, and as he went over the +gangway waved his hand to her amiably. + +Lighted dimly by the lantern on the roof of the deckhouse Mrs. Travers +remained very still with lowered head and an aspect of profound +meditation. It lasted but an instant before she moved off and brushing +against Lingard passed on with downcast eyes to her deck cabin. Lingard +heard the door shut. He waited awhile, made a movement toward the +gangway but checked himself and followed Mrs. Travers into her cabin. + +It was pitch dark in there. He could see absolutely nothing and was +oppressed by the profound stillness unstirred even by the sound of +breathing. + +"I am going on shore," he began, breaking the black and deathlike +silence enclosing him and the invisible woman. "I wanted to say +good-bye." + +"You are going on shore," repeated Mrs. Travers. Her voice was +emotionless, blank, unringing. + +"Yes, for a few hours, or for life," Lingard said in measured tones. "I +may have to die with them or to die maybe for others. For you, if I +only knew how to manage it, I would want to live. I am telling you this +because it is dark. If there had been a light in here I wouldn't have +come in." + +"I wish you had not," uttered the same unringing woman's voice. "You are +always coming to me with those lives and those deaths in your hand." + +"Yes, it's too much for you," was Lingard's undertoned comment. "You +could be no other than true. And you are innocent! Don't wish me life, +but wish me luck, for you are innocent--and you will have to take your +chance." + +"All luck to you, King Tom," he heard her say in the darkness in which +he seemed now to perceive the gleam of her hair. "I will take my chance. +And try not to come near me again for I am weary of you." + +"I can well believe it," murmured Lingard, and stepped out of the cabin, +shutting the door after him gently. For half a minute, perhaps, the +stillness continued, and then suddenly the chair fell over in the +darkness. Next moment Mrs. Travers' head appeared in the light of the +lamp left on the roof of the deckhouse. Her bare arms grasped the door +posts. + +"Wait a moment," she said, loudly, into the shadows of the deck. She +heard no footsteps, saw nothing moving except the vanishing white shape +of the late Captain H. C. Jorgenson, who was indifferent to the life of +men. "Wait, King Tom!" she insisted, raising her voice; then, "I didn't +mean it. Don't believe me!" she cried, recklessly. + +For the second time that night a woman's voice startled the hearts of +men on board the Emma. All except the heart of old Jorgenson. The Malays +in the boat looked up from their thwarts. D'Alcacer, sitting in the +stern sheets beside Lingard, felt a sinking of his heart. + +"What's this?" he exclaimed. "I heard your name on deck. You are wanted, +I think." + +"Shove off," ordered Lingard, inflexibly, without even looking at +d'Alcacer. Mr. Travers was the only one who didn't seem to be aware +of anything. A long time after the boat left the Emma's side he leaned +toward d'Alcacer. + +"I have a most extraordinary feeling," he said in a cautious undertone. +"I seem to be in the air--I don't know. Are we on the water, d'Alcacer? +Are you quite sure? But of course, we are on the water." + +"Yes," said d'Alcacer, in the same tone. "Crossing the Styx--perhaps." +He heard Mr. Travers utter an unmoved "Very likely," which he did not +expect. Lingard, his hand on the tiller, sat like a man of stone. + +"Then your point of view has changed," whispered d'Alcacer. + +"I told my wife to make an offer," went on the earnest whisper of the +other man. "A sum of money. But to tell you the truth I don't believe +very much in its success." + +D'Alcacer made no answer and only wondered whether he didn't like better +Mr. Travers' other, unreasonable mood. There was no denying the fact +that Mr. Travers was a troubling person. Now he suddenly gripped +d'Alcacer's fore-arm and added under his breath: "I doubt everything. I +doubt whether the offer will ever be made." + +All this was not very impressive. There was something pitiful in it: +whisper, grip, shudder, as of a child frightened in the dark. But the +emotion was deep. Once more that evening, but this time aroused by the +husband's distress, d'Alcacer's wonder approached the borders of awe. + + + +PART VI. THE CLAIM OF LIFE AND THE TOLL OF DEATH + +I + +"Have you got King Tom's watch in there?" said a voice that seemed not +to attach the slightest importance to the question. Jorgenson, outside +the door of Mrs. Travers' part of the deckhouse, waited for the answer. +He heard a low cry very much like a moan, the startled sound of pain +that may be sometimes heard in sick rooms. But it moved him not at all. +He would never have dreamt of opening the door unless told to do so, +in which case he would have beheld, with complete indifference, Mrs. +Travers extended on the floor with her head resting on the edge of the +camp bedstead (on which Lingard had never slept), as though she had +subsided there from a kneeling posture which is the attitude of prayer, +supplication, or defeat. The hours of the night had passed Mrs. Travers +by. After flinging herself on her knees, she didn't know why, since she +could think of nothing to pray for, had nothing to invoke, and was too +far gone for such a futile thing as despair, she had remained there till +the sense of exhaustion had grown on her to the point in which she lost +her belief in her power to rise. In a half-sitting attitude, her head +resting against the edge of the couch and her arms flung above her head, +she sank into an indifference, the mere resignation of a worn-out body +and a worn-out mind which often is the only sort of rest that comes to +people who are desperately ill and is welcome enough in a way. The voice +of Jorgenson roused her out of that state. She sat up, aching in every +limb and cold all over. + +Jorgenson, behind the door, repeated with lifeless obstinacy: + +"Do you see King Tom's watch in there?" + +Mrs. Travers got up from the floor. She tottered, snatching at the air, +and found the back of the armchair under her hand. + +"Who's there?" + +She was also ready to ask: "Where am I?" but she remembered and at once +became the prey of that active dread which had been lying dormant for +a few hours in her uneasy and prostrate body. "What time is it?" she +faltered out. + +"Dawn," pronounced the imperturbable voice at the door. It seemed to +her that it was a word that could make any heart sink with apprehension. +Dawn! She stood appalled. And the toneless voice outside the door +insisted: + +"You must have Tom's watch there!" + +"I haven't seen it," she cried as if tormented by a dream. + +"Look in that desk thing. If you push open the shutter you will be able +to see." + +Mrs. Travers became aware of the profound darkness of the cabin. +Jorgenson heard her staggering in there. After a moment a woman's voice, +which struck even him as strange, said in faint tones: + +"I have it. It's stopped." + +"It doesn't matter. I don't want to know the time. There should be a key +about. See it anywhere?" + +"Yes, it's fastened to the watch," the dazed voice answered from within. +Jorgenson waited before making his request. "Will you pass it out to me? +There's precious little time left now!" + +The door flew open, which was certainly something Jorgenson had not +expected. He had expected but a hand with the watch protruded through +a narrow crack, But he didn't start back or give any other sign of +surprise at seeing Mrs. Travers fully dressed. Against the faint +clearness in the frame of the open shutter she presented to him the dark +silhouette of her shoulders surmounted by a sleek head, because her +hair was still in the two plaits. To Jorgenson Mrs. Travers in her +un-European dress had always been displeasing, almost monstrous. Her +stature, her gestures, her general carriage struck his eye as +absurdly incongruous with a Malay costume, too ample, too free, too +bold--offensive. To Mrs. Travers, Jorgenson, in the dusk of the passage, +had the aspect of a dim white ghost, and he chilled her by his ghost's +aloofness. + +He picked up the watch from her outspread palm without a word of thanks, +only mumbling in his moustache, "H'm, yes, that's it. I haven't yet +forgotten how to count seconds correctly, but it's better to have a +watch." + +She had not the slightest notion what he meant. And she did not care. +Her mind remained confused and the sense of bodily discomfort oppressed +her. She whispered, shamefacedly, "I believe I've slept." + +"I haven't," mumbled Jorgenson, growing more and more distinct to her +eyes. The brightness of the short dawn increased rapidly as if the sun +were impatient to look upon the Settlement. "No fear of that," he added, +boastfully. + +It occurred to Mrs. Travers that perhaps she had not slept either. Her +state had been more like an imperfect, half-conscious, quivering death. +She shuddered at the recollection. + +"What an awful night," she murmured, drearily. + +There was nothing to hope for from Jorgenson. She expected him to +vanish, indifferent, like a phantom of the dead carrying off the +appropriately dead watch in his hand for some unearthly purpose. +Jorgenson didn't move. His was an insensible, almost a senseless +presence! Nothing could be extorted from it. But a wave of anguish as +confused as all her other sensations swept Mrs. Travers off her feet. + +"Can't you tell me something?" she cried. + +For half a minute perhaps Jorgenson made no sound; then: "For years +I have been telling anybody who cared to ask," he mumbled in his +moustache. "Telling Tom, too. And Tom knew what he wanted to do. How's +one to know what _you_ are after?" + +She had never expected to hear so many words from that rigid shadow. Its +monotonous mumble was fascinating, its sudden loquacity was shocking. +And in the profound stillness that reigned outside it was as if there +had been no one left in the world with her but the phantom of that old +adventurer. He was heard again: "What I could tell you would be worse +than poison." + +Mrs. Travers was not familiar with Jorgenson's consecrated phrases. The +mechanical voice, the words themselves, his air of abstraction appalled +her. And he hadn't done yet; she caught some more of his unconcerned +mumbling: "There is nothing I don't know," and the absurdity of the +statement was also appalling. Mrs. Travers gasped and with a wild little +laugh: + +"Then you know why I called after King Tom last night." + +He glanced away along his shoulder through the door of the deckhouse at +the growing brightness of the day. She did so, too. It was coming. It +had come! Another day! And it seemed to Mrs. Travers a worse calamity +than any discovery she had made in her life, than anything she could +have imagined to come to her. The very magnitude of horror steadied her, +seemed to calm her agitation as some kinds of fatal drugs do before they +kill. She laid a steady hand on Jorgenson's sleeve and spoke quietly, +distinctly, urgently. + +"You were on deck. What I want to know is whether I was heard?" + +"Yes," said Jorgenson, absently, "I heard you." Then, as if roused a +little, he added less mechanically: "The whole ship heard you." + +Mrs. Travers asked herself whether perchance she had not simply +screamed. It had never occurred to her before that perhaps she had. At +the time it seemed to her she had no strength for more than a whisper. +Had she been really so loud? And the deadly chill, the night that had +gone by her had left in her body, vanished from her limbs, passed out of +her in a flush. Her face was turned away from the light, and that +fact gave her courage to continue. Moreover, the man before her was so +detached from the shames and prides and schemes of life that he seemed +not to count at all, except that somehow or other he managed at times to +catch the mere literal sense of the words addressed to him--and answer +them. And answer them! Answer unfailingly, impersonally, without any +feeling. + +"You saw Tom--King Tom? Was he there? I mean just then, at the moment. +There was a light at the gangway. Was he on deck?" + +"No. In the boat." + +"Already? Could I have been heard in the boat down there? You say the +whole ship heard me--and I don't care. But could he hear me?" + +"Was it Tom you were after?" said Jorgenson in the tone of a negligent +remark. + +"Can't you answer me?" she cried, angrily. + +"Tom was busy. No child's play. The boat shoved off," said Jorgenson, as +if he were merely thinking aloud. + +"You won't tell me, then?" Mrs. Travers apostrophized him, fearlessly. +She was not afraid of Jorgenson. Just then she was afraid of nothing and +nobody. And Jorgenson went on thinking aloud. + +"I guess he will be kept busy from now on and so shall I." + +Mrs. Travers seemed ready to take by the shoulders and shake that +dead-voiced spectre till it begged for mercy. But suddenly her strong +white arms fell down by her side, the arms of an exhausted woman. + +"I shall never, never find out," she whispered to herself. + +She cast down her eyes in intolerable humiliation, in intolerable +desire, as though she had veiled her face. Not a sound reached the +loneliness of her thought. But when she raised her eyes again Jorgenson +was no longer standing before her. + +For an instant she saw him all black in the brilliant and narrow +doorway, and the next moment he had vanished outside, as if devoured by +the hot blaze of light. The sun had risen on the Shore of Refuge. + +When Mrs. Travers came out on deck herself it was as it were with a +boldly unveiled face, with wide-open and dry, sleepless eyes. Their +gaze, undismayed by the sunshine, sought the innermost heart of things +each day offered to the passion of her dread and of her impatience. The +lagoon, the beach, the colours and the shapes struck her more than ever +as a luminous painting on an immense cloth hiding the movements of an +inexplicable life. She shaded her eyes with her hand. There were figures +on the beach, moving dark dots on the white semicircle bounded by the +stockades, backed by roof ridges above the palm groves. Further back the +mass of carved white coral on the roof of the mosque shone like a white +day-star. Religion and politics--always politics! To the left, before +Tengga's enclosure, the loom of fire had changed into a pillar of smoke. +But there were some big trees over there and she couldn't tell whether +the night council had prolonged its sitting. Some vague forms were still +moving there and she could picture them to herself: Daman, the supreme +chief of sea-robbers, with a vengeful heart and the eyes of a gazelle; +Sentot, the sour fanatic with the big turban, that other saint with +a scanty loin cloth and ashes in his hair, and Tengga whom she could +imagine from hearsay, fat, good-tempered, crafty, but ready to spill +blood on his ambitious way and already bold enough to flaunt a yellow +state umbrella at the very gate of Belarab's stockade--so they said. + +She saw, she imagined, she even admitted now the reality of those +things no longer a mere pageant marshalled for her vision with barbarous +splendour and savage emphasis. She questioned it no longer--but she did +not feel it in her soul any more than one feels the depth of the sea +under its peaceful glitter or the turmoil of its grey fury. Her eyes +ranged afar, unbelieving and fearful--and then all at once she became +aware of the empty Cage with its interior in disorder, the camp +bedsteads not taken away, a pillow lying on the deck, the dying flame +like a shred of dull yellow stuff inside the lamp left hanging over +the table. The whole struck her as squalid and as if already decayed, +a flimsy and idle phantasy. But Jorgenson, seated on the deck with his +back to it, was not idle. His occupation, too, seemed fantastic and so +truly childish that her heart sank at the man's utter absorption in it. +Jorgenson had before him, stretched on the deck, several bits of rather +thin and dirty-looking rope of different lengths from a couple of inches +to about a foot. He had (an idiot might have amused himself in that +way) set fire to the ends of them. They smouldered with amazing energy, +emitting now and then a splutter, and in the calm air within the +bulwarks sent up very slender, exactly parallel threads of smoke, +each with a vanishing curl at the end; and the absorption with which +Jorgenson gave himself up to that pastime was enough to shake all +confidence in his sanity. + +In one half-opened hand he was holding the watch. He was also provided +with a scrap of paper and the stump of a pencil. Mrs. Travers was +confident that he did not either hear or see her. + +"Captain Jorgenson, you no doubt think. . . ." + +He tried to wave her away with the stump of the pencil. He did not want +to be interrupted in his strange occupation. He was playing very gravely +indeed with those bits of string. "I lighted them all together," he +murmured, keeping one eye on the dial of the watch. Just then the +shortest piece of string went out, utterly consumed. Jorgenson made +a hasty note and remained still while Mrs. Travers looked at him with +stony eyes thinking that nothing in the world was any use. The other +threads of smoke went on vanishing in spirals before the attentive +Jorgenson. + +"What are you doing?" asked Mrs. Travers, drearily. + +"Timing match . . . precaution. . . ." + +He had never in Mrs. Travers' experience been less spectral than then. +He displayed a weakness of the flesh. He was impatient at her intrusion. +He divided his attention between the threads of smoke and the face of +the watch with such interest that the sudden reports of several guns +breaking for the first time for days the stillness of the lagoon and the +illusion of the painted scene failed to make him raise his head. He only +jerked it sideways a little. Mrs. Travers stared at the wisps of +white vapour floating above Belarab's stockade. The series of sharp +detonations ceased and their combined echoes came back over the lagoon +like a long-drawn and rushing sigh. + +"What's this?" cried Mrs. Travers. + +"Belarab's come home," said Jorgenson. + +The last thread of smoke disappeared and Jorgenson got up. He had lost +all interest in the watch and thrust it carelessly into his pocket, +together with the bit of paper and the stump of pencil. He had resumed +his aloofness from the life of men, but approaching the bulwark he +condescended to look toward Belarab's stockade. + +"Yes, he is home," he said very low. + +"What's going to happen?" cried Mrs. Travers. "What's to be done?" +Jorgenson kept up his appearance of communing with himself. + +"I know what to do," he mumbled. + +"You are lucky," said Mrs. Travers, with intense bitterness. + +It seemed to her that she was abandoned by all the world. The opposite +shore of the lagoon had resumed its aspect of a painted scene that would +never roll up to disclose the truth behind its blinding and soulless +splendour. It seemed to her that she had said her last words to all of +them: to d'Alcacer, to her husband, to Lingard himself--and that they +had all gone behind the curtain forever out of her sight. Of all the +white men Jorgenson alone was left, that man who had done with life so +completely that his mere presence robbed it of all heat and mystery, +leaving nothing but its terrible, its revolting insignificance. And Mrs. +Travers was ready for revolt. She cried with suppressed passion: + +"Are you aware, Captain Jorgenson, that I am alive?" + +He turned his eyes on her, and for a moment she was daunted by their +cold glassiness. But before they could drive her away, something like +the gleam of a spark gave them an instant's animation. + +"I want to go and join them. I want to go ashore," she said, firmly. +"There!" + +Her bare and extended arm pointed across the lagoon, and Jorgenson's +resurrected eyes glided along the white limb and wandered off into +space. + +"No boat," he muttered. + +"There must be a canoe. I know there is a canoe. I want it." + +She stepped forward compelling, commanding, trying to concentrate in +her glance all her will power, the sense of her own right to dispose of +herself and her claim to be served to the last moment of her life. It +was as if she had done nothing. Jorgenson didn't flinch. + +"Which of them are you after?" asked his blank, unringing voice. + +She continued to look at him; her face had stiffened into a severe mask; +she managed to say distinctly: + +"I suppose you have been asking yourself that question for some time, +Captain Jorgenson?" + +"No. I am asking you now." + +His face disclosed nothing to Mrs. Travers' bold and weary eyes. +"What could you do over there?" Jorgenson added as merciless, as +irrepressible, and sincere as though he were the embodiment of that +inner voice that speaks in all of us at times and, like Jorgenson, is +offensive and difficult to answer. + +"Remember that I am not a shadow but a living woman still, Captain +Jorgenson. I can live and I can die. Send me over to share their fate." + +"Sure you would like?" asked the roused Jorgenson in a voice that had an +unexpected living quality, a faint vibration which no man had known in +it for years. "There may be death in it," he mumbled, relapsing into +indifference. + +"Who cares?" she said, recklessly. "All I want is to ask Tom a question +and hear his answer. That's what I would like. That's what I must have." + + + +II + +Along the hot and gloomy forest path, neglected, overgrown and strangled +in the fierce life of the jungle, there came a faint rustle of leaves. +Jaffir, the servant of princes, the messenger of great men, walked, +stooping, with a broad chopper in his hand. He was naked from the waist +upward, his shoulders and arms were scratched and bleeding. A multitude +of biting insects made a cloud about his head. He had lost his costly +and ancient head-kerchief, and when in a slightly wider space he stopped +in a listening attitude anybody would have taken him for a fugitive. + +He waved his arms about, slapping his shoulders, the sides of his head, +his heaving flanks; then, motionless, listened again for a while. A +sound of firing, not so much made faint by distance as muffled by the +masses of foliage, reached his ears, dropping shots which he could have +counted if he had cared to. "There is fighting in the forest already," +he thought. Then putting his head low in the tunnel of vegetation he +dashed forward out of the horrible cloud of flies, which he actually +managed for an instant to leave behind him. But it was not from the +cruelty of insects that he was flying, for no man could hope to drop +that escort, and Jaffir in his life of a faithful messenger had been +accustomed, if such an extravagant phrase may be used, to be eaten +alive. Bent nearly double he glided and dodged between the trees, +through the undergrowth, his brown body streaming with sweat, his firm +limbs gleaming like limbs of imperishable bronze through the mass +of green leaves that are forever born and forever dying. For all his +desperate haste he was no longer a fugitive; he was simply a man in a +tremendous hurry. His flight, which had begun with a bound and a rush +and a general display of great presence of mind, was a simple issue +from a critical situation. Issues from critical situations are generally +simple if one is quick enough to think of them in time. He became aware +very soon that the attempt to pursue him had been given up, but he had +taken the forest path and had kept up his pace because he had left his +Rajah and the lady Immada beset by enemies on the edge of the forest, as +good as captives to a party of Tengga's men. + +Belarab's hesitation had proved too much even for Hassim's hereditary +patience in such matters. It is but becoming that weighty negotiations +should be spread over many days, that the same requests and arguments +should be repeated in the same words, at many successive interviews, and +receive the same evasive answers. Matters of state demand the dignity of +such a procedure as if time itself had to wait on the power and wisdom +of rulers. Such are the proceedings of embassies and the dignified +patience of envoys. But at this time of crisis Hassim's impatience +obtained the upper hand; and though he never departed from the tradition +of soft speech and restrained bearing while following with his sister in +the train of the pious Belarab, he had his moments of anger, of anxiety, +of despondency. His friendships, his future, his country's destinies +were at stake, while Belarab's camp wandered deviously over the back +country as if influenced by the vacillation of the ruler's thought, the +very image of uncertain fate. + +Often no more than the single word "Good" was all the answer vouchsafed +to Hassim's daily speeches. The lesser men, companions of the Chief, +treated him with deference; but Hassim could feel the opposition from +the women's side of the camp working against his cause in subservience +to the mere caprice of the new wife, a girl quite gentle and kind to her +dependents, but whose imagination had run away with her completely and +had made her greedy for the loot of the yacht from mere simplicity and +innocence. What could Hassim, that stranger, wandering and poor, offer +for her acceptance? Nothing. The wealth of his far-off country was but +an idle tale, the talk of an exile looking for help. + +At night Hassim had to listen to the anguished doubts of Immada, the +only companion of his life, child of the same mother, brave as a man, +but in her fears a very woman. She whispered them to him far into the +night while the camp of the great Belarab was hushed in sleep and the +fires had sunk down to mere glowing embers. Hassim soothed her gravely. +But he, too, was a native of Wajo where men are more daring and quicker +of mind than other Malays. More energetic, too, and energy does not go +without an inner fire. Hassim lost patience and one evening he declared +to his sister Immada: "To-morrow we leave this ruler without a mind and +go back to our white friend." + +Therefore next morning, letting the camp move on the direct road to +the settlement, Hassim and Immada took a course of their own. It was +a lonely path between the jungle and the clearings. They had two +attendants with them, Hassim's own men, men of Wajo; and so the lady +Immada, when she had a mind to, could be carried, after the manner of +the great ladies of Wajo who need not put foot to the ground unless they +like. The lady Immada, accustomed to the hardships that are the lot +of exiles, preferred to walk, but from time to time she let herself +be carried for a short distance out of regard for the feelings of her +attendants. The party made good time during the early hours, and Hassim +expected confidently to reach before evening the shore of the lagoon +at a spot very near the stranded Emma. At noon they rested in the shade +near a dark pool within the edge of the forest; and it was there that +Jaffir met them, much to his and their surprise. It was the occasion +of a long talk. Jaffir, squatting on his heels, discoursed in measured +tones. He had entranced listeners. The story of Carter's exploit amongst +the Shoals had not reached Belarab's camp. It was a great shock to +Hassim, but the sort of half smile with which he had been listening to +Jaffir never altered its character. It was the Princess Immada who cried +out in distress and wrung her hands. A deep silence fell. + +Indeed, before the fatal magnitude of the fact it seemed even to those +Malays that there was nothing to say and Jaffir, lowering his head, +respected his Prince's consternation. Then, before that feeling could +pass away from that small group of people seated round a few smouldering +sticks, the noisy approach of a large party of men made them all leap +to their feet. Before they could make another movement they perceived +themselves discovered. The men were armed as if bound on some warlike +expedition. Amongst them Sentot, in his loin cloth and with unbound wild +locks, capered and swung his arms about like the lunatic he was. The +others' astonishment made them halt, but their attitude was obviously +hostile. In the rear a portly figure flanked by two attendants carrying +swords was approaching prudently. Rajah Hassim resumed quietly his seat +on the trunk of a fallen tree, Immada rested her hand lightly on her +brother's shoulder, and Jaffir, squatting down again, looked at the +ground with all his faculties and every muscle of his body tensely on +the alert. + +"Tengga's fighters," he murmured, scornfully. + +In the group somebody shouted, and was answered by shouts from afar. +There could be no thought of resistance. Hassim slipped the emerald +ring from his finger stealthily and Jaffir got hold of it by an almost +imperceptible movement. The Rajah did not even look at the trusty +messenger. + +"Fail not to give it to the white man," he murmured. "Thy servant hears, +O Rajah. It's a charm of great power." + +The shadows were growing to the westward. Everybody was silent, and +the shifting group of armed men seemed to have drifted closer. Immada, +drawing the end of a scarf across her face, confronted the advance +with only one eye exposed. On the flank of the armed men Sentot was +performing a slow dance but he, too, seemed to have gone dumb. + +"Now go," breathed out Rajah Hassim, his gaze levelled into space +immovably. + +For a second or more Jaffir did not stir, then with a sudden leap from +his squatting posture he flew through the air and struck the jungle in +a great commotion of leaves, vanishing instantly like a swimmer diving +from on high. A deep murmur of surprise arose in the armed party, a +spear was thrown, a shot was fired, three or four men dashed into the +forest, but they soon returned crestfallen with apologetic smiles; while +Jaffir, striking an old path that seemed to lead in the right direction, +ran on in solitude, raising a rustle of leaves, with a naked parang in +his hand and a cloud of flies about his head. The sun declining to the +westward threw shafts of light across his dark path. He ran at a springy +half-trot, his eyes watchful, his broad chest heaving, and carrying +the emerald ring on the forefinger of a clenched hand as though he were +afraid it should slip off, fly off, be torn from him by an invisible +force, or spirited away by some enchantment. Who could tell what +might happen? There were evil forces at work in the world, powerful +incantations, horrible apparitions. The messenger of princes and of +great men, charged with the supreme appeal of his master, was afraid +in the deepening shade of the forest. Evil presences might have been +lurking in that gloom. Still the sun had not set yet. He could see its +face through the leaves as he skirted the shore of the lagoon. But what +if Allah's call should come to him suddenly and he die as he ran! + +He drew a long breath on the shore of the lagoon within about a hundred +yards from the stranded bows of the Emma. The tide was out and he +walked to the end of a submerged log and sent out a hail for a boat. +Jorgenson's voice answered. The sun had sunk behind the forest belt of +the coast. All was still as far as the eye could reach over the black +water. A slight breeze came along it and Jaffir on the brink, waiting +for a canoe, shivered a little. + +At the same moment Carter, exhausted by thirty hours of uninterrupted +toil at the head of whites and Malays in getting the yacht afloat, +dropped into Mrs. Travers' deck chair, on board the Hermit, said to the +devoted Wasub: "Let a good watch be kept to-night, old man," glanced +contentedly at the setting sun and fell asleep. + + + +III + +There was in the bows of the Emma an elevated grating over the heel of +her bowsprit whence the eye could take in the whole range of her +deck and see every movement of her crew. It was a spot safe from +eaves-droppers, though, of course, exposed to view. The sun had just set +on the supreme content of Carter when Jorgenson and Jaffir sat down +side by side between the knightheads of the Emma and, public but +unapproachable, impressive and secret, began to converse in low tones. + +Every Wajo fugitive who manned the hulk felt the approach of a decisive +moment. Their minds were made up and their hearts beat steadily. They +were all desperate men determined to fight and to die and troubling not +about the manner of living or dying. This was not the case with Mrs. +Travers who, having shut herself up in the deckhouse, was profoundly +troubled about those very things, though she, too, felt desperate enough +to welcome almost any solution. + +Of all the people on board she alone did not know anything of that +conference. In her deep and aimless thinking she had only become aware +of the absence of the slightest sound on board the Emma. Not a rustle, +not a footfall. The public view of Jorgenson and Jaffir in deep +consultation had the effect of taking all wish to move from every man. + +Twilight enveloped the two figures forward while they talked, looking in +the stillness of their pose like carved figures of European and Asiatic +contrasted in intimate contact. The deepening dusk had nearly effaced +them when at last they rose without warning, as it were, and thrilling +the heart of the beholders by the sudden movement. But they did not +separate at once. They lingered in their high place as if awaiting the +fall of complete darkness, a fit ending to their mysterious communion. +Jaffir had given Jorgenson the whole story of the ring, the symbol of a +friendship matured and confirmed on the night of defeat, on the night of +flight from a far-distant land sleeping unmoved under the wrath and fire +of heaven. + +"Yes, Tuan," continued Jaffir, "it was first sent out to the white man, +on a night of mortal danger, a present to remember a friend by. I was +the bearer of it then even as I am now. Then, as now, it was given to me +and I was told to save myself and hand the ring over in confirmation of +my message. I did so and that white man seemed to still the very storm +to save my Rajah. He was not one to depart and forget him whom he had +once called his friend. My message was but a message of good-bye, but +the charm of the ring was strong enough to draw all the power of that +white man to the help of my master. Now I have no words to say. Rajah +Hassim asks for nothing. But what of that? By the mercy of Allah all +things are the same, the compassion of the Most High, the power of +the ring, the heart of the white man. Nothing is changed, only the +friendship is a little older and love has grown because of the shared +dangers and long companionship. Therefore, Tuan, I have no fear. But how +am I to get the ring to the Rajah Laut? Just hand it to him. The last +breath would be time enough if they were to spear me at his feet. But +alas! the bush is full of Tengga's men, the beach is open and I could +never even hope to reach the gate." + +Jorgenson, with his hands deep in the pockets of his tunic, listened, +looking down. Jaffir showed as much consternation as his nature was +capable of. + +"Our refuge is with God," he murmured. "But what is to be done? Has your +wisdom no stratagem, O Tuan?" + +Jorgenson did not answer. It appeared as though he had no stratagem. But +God is great and Jaffir waited on the other's immobility, anxious but +patient, perplexed yet hopeful in his grim way, while the night flowing +on from the dark forest near by hid their two figures from the sight +of observing men. Before the silence of Jorgenson Jaffir began to talk +practically. Now that Tengga had thrown off the mask Jaffir did not +think that he could land on the beach without being attacked, captured, +nay killed, since a man like he, though he could save himself by taking +flight at the order of his master, could not be expected to surrender +without a fight. He mentioned that in the exercise of his important +functions he knew how to glide like a shadow, creep like a snake, and +almost burrow his way underground. He was Jaffir who had never been +foiled. No bog, morass, great river or jungle could stop him. He would +have welcomed them. In many respects they were the friends of a crafty +messenger. But that was an open beach, and there was no other way, and +as things stood now every bush around, every tree trunk, every deep +shadow of house or fence would conceal Tengga's men or such of Daman's +infuriated partisans as had already made their way to the Settlement. +How could he hope to traverse the distance between the water's edge +and Belarab's gate which now would remain shut night and day? Not only +himself but anybody from the Emma would be sure to be rushed upon and +speared in twenty places. + +He reflected for a moment in silence. + +"Even you, Tuan, could not accomplish the feat." + +"True," muttered Jorgenson. + +When, after a period of meditation, he looked round, Jaffir was no +longer by his side. He had descended from the high place and was +probably squatting on his heels in some dark nook on the fore deck. +Jorgenson knew Jaffir too well to suppose that he would go to sleep. +He would sit there thinking himself into a state of fury, then get away +from the Emma in some way or other, go ashore and perish fighting. He +would, in fact, run amok; for it looked as if there could be no way out +of the situation. Then, of course, Lingard would know nothing of Hassim +and Immada's captivity for the ring would never reach him--the ring that +could tell its own tale. No, Lingard would know nothing. He would know +nothing about anybody outside Belarab's stockade till the end came, +whatever the end might be, for all those people that lived the life of +men. Whether to know or not to know would be good for Lingard Jorgenson +could not tell. He admitted to himself that here there was something +that he, Jorgenson, could not tell. All the possibilities were wrapped +up in doubt, uncertain, like all things pertaining to the life of men. +It was only when giving a short thought to himself that Jorgenson had no +doubt. He, of course, would know what to do. + +On the thin face of that old adventurer hidden in the night not a +feature moved, not a muscle twitched, as he descended in his turn and +walked aft along the decks of the Emma. His faded eyes, which had seen +so much, did not attempt to explore the night, they never gave a glance +to the silent watchers against whom he brushed. Had a light been flashed +on him suddenly he would have appeared like a man walking in his sleep: +the somnambulist of an eternal dream. Mrs. Travers heard his footsteps +pass along the side of the deckhouse. She heard them--and let her head +fall again on her bare arms thrown over the little desk before which she +sat. + +Jorgenson, standing by the taffrail, noted the faint reddish glow in the +massive blackness of the further shore. Jorgenson noted things quickly, +cursorily, perfunctorily, as phenomena unrelated to his own apparitional +existence of a visiting ghost. They were but passages in the game of men +who were still playing at life. He knew too well how much that game was +worth to be concerned about its course. He had given up the habit +of thinking for so long that the sudden resumption of it irked him +exceedingly, especially as he had to think on toward a conclusion. In +that world of eternal oblivion, of which he had tasted before Lingard +made him step back into the life of men, all things were settled +once for all. He was irritated by his own perplexity which was like a +reminder of that mortality made up of questions and passions from which +he had fancied he had freed himself forever. By a natural association +his contemptuous annoyance embraced the existence of Mrs. Travers, too, +for how could he think of Tom Lingard, of what was good or bad for King +Tom, without thinking also of that woman who had managed to put the +ghost of a spark even into his own extinguished eyes? She was of no +account; but Tom's integrity was. It was of Tom that he had to think, of +what was good or bad for Tom in that absurd and deadly game of his life. +Finally he reached the conclusion that to be given the ring would be +good for Tom Lingard. Just to be given the ring and no more. The ring +and no more. + +"It will help him to make up his mind," muttered Jorgenson in his +moustache, as if compelled by an obscure conviction. It was only then +that he stirred slightly and turned away from the loom of the fires on +the distant shore. Mrs. Travers heard his footsteps passing again along +the side of the deckhouse--and this time never raised her head. That +man was sleepless, mad, childish, and inflexible. He was impossible. He +haunted the decks of that hulk aimlessly. . . . + +It was, however, in pursuance of a very distinct aim that Jorgenson had +gone forward again to seek Jaffir. + +The first remark he had to offer to Jaffir's consideration was that +the only person in the world who had the remotest chance of reaching +Belarab's gate on that night was that tall white woman the Rajah Laut +had brought on board, the wife of one of the captive white chiefs. +Surprise made Jaffir exclaim, but he wasn't prepared to deny that. It +was possible that for many reasons, some quite simple and others very +subtle, those sons of the Evil One belonging to Tengga and Daman would +refrain from killing a white woman walking alone from the water's +edge to Belarab's gate. Yes, it was just possible that she might walk +unharmed. + +"Especially if she carried a blazing torch," muttered Jorgenson in his +moustache. He told Jaffir that she was sitting now in the dark, mourning +silently in the manner of white women. She had made a great outcry in +the morning to be allowed to join the white men on shore. He, Jorgenson, +had refused her the canoe. Ever since she had secluded herself in the +deckhouse in great distress. + +Jaffir listened to it all without particular sympathy. And when +Jorgenson added, "It is in my mind, O Jaffir, to let her have her will +now," he answered by a "Yes, by Allah! let her go. What does it matter?" +of the greatest unconcern, till Jorgenson added: + +"Yes. And she may carry the ring to the Rajah Laut." + +Jorgenson saw Jaffir, the grim and impassive Jaffir, give a perceptible +start. It seemed at first an impossible task to persuade Jaffir to part +with the ring. The notion was too monstrous to enter his mind, to move +his heart. But at last he surrendered in an awed whisper, "God is great. +Perhaps it is her destiny." + +Being a Wajo man he did not regard women as untrustworthy or unequal +to a task requiring courage and judgment. Once he got over the personal +feeling he handed the ring to Jorgenson with only one reservation, "You +know, Tuan, that she must on no account put it on her finger." + +"Let her hang it round her neck," suggested Jorgenson, readily. + +As Jorgenson moved toward the deckhouse it occurred to him that perhaps +now that woman Tom Lingard had taken in tow might take it into her head +to refuse to leave the Emma. This did not disturb him very much. All +those people moved in the dark. He himself at that particular moment was +moving in the dark. Beyond the simple wish to guide Lingard's thought in +the direction of Hassim and Immada, to help him to make up his mind at +last to a ruthless fidelity to his purpose Jorgenson had no other aim. +The existence of those whites had no meaning on earth. They were the +sort of people that pass without leaving footprints. That woman would +have to act in ignorance. And if she refused to go then in ignorance she +would have to stay on board. He would tell her nothing. + +As a matter of fact, he discovered that Mrs. Travers would simply have +nothing to do with him. She would not listen to what he had to say. She +desired him, a mere weary voice confined in the darkness of the deck +cabin, to go away and trouble her no more. But the ghost of Jorgenson +was not easily exorcised. He, too, was a mere voice in the outer +darkness, inexorable, insisting that she should come out on deck and +listen. At last he found the right words to say. + +"It is something about Tom that I want to tell you. You wish him well, +don't you?" + +After this she could not refuse to come out on deck, and once there she +listened patiently to that white ghost muttering and mumbling above her +drooping head. + +"It seems to me, Captain Jorgenson," she said after he had ceased, +"that you are simply trifling with me. After your behaviour to me this +morning, I can have nothing to say to you." + +"I have a canoe for you now," mumbled Jorgenson. + +"You have some new purpose in view now," retorted Mrs. Travers with +spirit. "But you won't make it clear to me. What is it that you have in +your mind?" + +"Tom's interest." + +"Are you really his friend?" + +"He brought me here. You know it. He has talked a lot to you." + +"He did. But I ask myself whether you are capable of being anybody's +friend." + +"You ask yourself!" repeated Jorgenson, very quiet and morose. "If I am +not his friend I should like to know who is." + +Mrs. Travers asked, quickly: "What's all this about a ring? What ring?" + +"Tom's property. He has had it for years." + +"And he gave it to you? Doesn't he care for it?" + +"Don't know. It's just a thing." + +"But it has a meaning as between you and him. Is that so?" + +"Yes. It has. He will know what it means." + +"What does it mean?" + +"I am too much his friend not to hold my tongue." + +"What! To me!" + +"And who are you?" was Jorgenson's unexpected remark. "He has told you +too much already." + +"Perhaps he has," whispered Mrs. Travers, as if to herself. "And you +want that ring to be taken to him?" she asked, in a louder tone. + +"Yes. At once. For his good." + +"Are you certain it is for his good? Why can't you. . . ." + +She checked herself. That man was hopeless. He would never tell +anything and there was no means of compelling him. He was invulnerable, +unapproachable. . . . He was dead. + +"Just give it to him," mumbled Jorgenson as though pursuing a mere fixed +idea. "Just slip it quietly into his hand. He will understand." + +"What is it? Advice, warning, signal for action?" + +"It may be anything," uttered Jorgenson, morosely, but as it were in a +mollified tone. "It's meant for his good." + +"Oh, if I only could trust that man!" mused Mrs. Travers, half aloud. + +Jorgenson's slight noise in the throat might have been taken for an +expression of sympathy. But he remained silent. + +"Really, this is most extraordinary!" cried Mrs. Travers, suddenly +aroused. "Why did you come to me? Why should it be my task? Why should +you want me specially to take it to him?" + +"I will tell you why," said Jorgenson's blank voice. "It's because there +is no one on board this hulk that can hope to get alive inside that +stockade. This morning you told me yourself that you were ready to +die--for Tom--or with Tom. Well, risk it then. You are the only one that +has half a chance to get through--and Tom, maybe, is waiting." + +"The only one," repeated Mrs. Travers with an abrupt movement forward +and an extended hand before which Jorgenson stepped back a pace. "Risk +it! Certainly! Where's that mysterious ring?" + +"I have got it in my pocket," said Jorgenson, readily; yet nearly half +a minute elapsed before Mrs. Travers felt the characteristic shape being +pressed into her half-open palm. "Don't let anybody see it," Jorgenson +admonished her in a murmur. "Hide it somewhere about you. Why not hang +it round your neck?" + +Mrs. Travers' hand remained firmly closed on the ring. "Yes, that will +do," she murmured, hastily. "I'll be back in a moment. Get everything +ready." With those words she disappeared inside the deckhouse and +presently threads of light appeared in the interstices of the boards. +Mrs. Travers had lighted a candle in there. She was busy hanging that +ring round her neck. She was going. Yes--taking the risk for Tom's sake. + +"Nobody can resist that man," Jorgenson muttered to himself with +increasing moroseness. "_I_ couldn't." + + +IV + +Jorgenson, after seeing the canoe leave the ship's side, ceased to live +intellectually. There was no need for more thinking, for any display +of mental ingenuity. He had done with it all. All his notions were +perfectly fixed and he could go over them in the same ghostly way in +which he haunted the deck of the Emma. At the sight of the ring Lingard +would return to Hassim and Immada, now captives, too, though Jorgenson +certainly did not think them in any serious danger. What had happened +really was that Tengga was now holding hostages, and those Jorgenson +looked upon as Lingard's own people. They were his. He had gone in with +them deep, very deep. They had a hold and a claim on King Tom just as +many years ago people of that very race had had a hold and a claim +on him, Jorgenson. Only Tom was a much bigger man. A very big man. +Nevertheless, Jorgenson didn't see why he should escape his own +fate--Jorgenson's fate--to be absorbed, captured, made their own either +in failure or in success. It was an unavoidable fatality and Jorgenson +felt certain that the ring would compel Lingard to face it without +flinching. What he really wanted Lingard to do was to cease to take the +slightest interest in those whites--who were the sort of people that +left no footprints. + +Perhaps at first sight, sending that woman to Lingard was not the best +way toward that end. Jorgenson, however, had a distinct impression in +which his morning talk with Mrs. Travers had only confirmed him, that +those two had quarrelled for good. As, indeed, was unavoidable. What did +Tom Lingard want with any woman? The only woman in Jorgenson's life had +come in by way of exchange for a lot of cotton stuffs and several +brass guns. This fact could not but affect Jorgenson's judgment since +obviously in this case such a transaction was impossible. Therefore +the case was not serious. It didn't exist. What did exist was Lingard's +relation to the Wajo exiles, a great and warlike adventure such as no +rover in those seas had ever attempted. + +That Tengga was much more ready to negotiate than to fight, the old +adventurer had not the slightest doubt. How Lingard would deal with him +was not a concern of Jorgenson's. That would be easy enough. Nothing +prevented Lingard from going to see Tengga and talking to him with +authority. All that ambitious person really wanted was to have a share +in Lingard's wealth, in Lingard's power, in Lingard's friendship. A year +before Tengga had once insinuated to Jorgenson, "In what way am I less +worthy of being a friend than Belarab?" + +It was a distinct overture, a disclosure of the man's innermost mind. +Jorgenson, of course, had met it with a profound silence. His task was +not diplomacy but the care of stores. + +After the effort of connected mental processes in order to bring about +Mrs. Travers' departure he was anxious to dismiss the whole matter from +his mind. The last thought he gave to it was severely practical. It +occurred to him that it would be advisable to attract in some way or +other Lingard's attention to the lagoon. In the language of the sea +a single rocket is properly a signal of distress, but, in the +circumstances, a group of three sent up simultaneously would convey a +warning. He gave his orders and watched the rockets go up finely with a +trail of red sparks, a bursting of white stars high up in the air, and +three loud reports in quick succession. Then he resumed his pacing of +the whole length of the hulk, confident that after this Tom would guess +that something was up and set a close watch over the lagoon. No doubt +these mysterious rockets would have a disturbing effect on Tengga and +his friends and cause a great excitement in the Settlement; but for that +Jorgenson did not care. The Settlement was already in such a turmoil +that a little more excitement did not matter. What Jorgenson did not +expect, however, was the sound of a musket-shot fired from the jungle +facing the bows of the Emma. It caused him to stop dead short. He had +heard distinctly the bullet strike the curve of the bow forward. "Some +hot-headed ass fired that," he said to himself, contemptuously. It +simply disclosed to him the fact that he was already besieged on the +shore side and set at rest his doubts as to the length Tengga was +prepared to go. Any length! Of course there was still time for Tom to +put everything right with six words, unless . . . Jorgenson smiled, +grimly, in the dark and resumed his tireless pacing. + +What amused him was to observe the fire which had been burning night +and day before Tengga's residence suddenly extinguished. He pictured +to himself the wild rush with bamboo buckets to the lagoon shore, the +confusion, the hurry and jostling in a great hissing of water midst +clouds of steam. The image of the fat Tengga's consternation appealed to +Jorgenson's sense of humour for about five seconds. Then he took up the +binoculars from the roof of the deckhouse. + +The bursting of the three white stars over the lagoon had given him +a momentary glimpse of the black speck of the canoe taking over Mrs. +Travers. He couldn't find it again with the glass, it was too dark; but +the part of the shore for which it was steered would be somewhere near +the angle of Belarab's stockade nearest to the beach. This Jorgenson +could make out in the faint rosy glare of fires burning inside. +Jorgenson was certain that Lingard was looking toward the Emma through +the most convenient loophole he could find. + +As obviously Mrs. Travers could not have paddled herself across, two men +were taking her over; and for the steersman she had Jaffir. Though he +had assented to Jorgenson's plan Jaffir was anxious to accompany the +ring as near as possible to its destination. Nothing but dire necessity +had induced him to part with the talisman. Crouching in the stern and +flourishing his paddle from side to side he glared at the back of the +canvas deck-chair which had been placed in the middle for Mrs. Travers. +Wrapped up in the darkness she reclined in it with her eyes closed, +faintly aware of the ring hung low on her breast. As the canoe was +rather large it was moving very slowly. The two men dipped their paddles +without a splash: and surrendering herself passively, in a temporary +relaxation of all her limbs, to this adventure Mrs. Travers had no sense +of motion at all. She, too, like Jorgenson, was tired of thinking. She +abandoned herself to the silence of that night full of roused passions +and deadly purposes. She abandoned herself to an illusory feeling; to +the impression that she was really resting. For the first time in many +days she could taste the relief of being alone. The men with her were +less than nothing. She could not speak to them; she could not understand +them; the canoe might have been moving by enchantment--if it did move +at all. Like a half-conscious sleeper she was on the verge of saying to +herself, "What a strange dream I am having." + +The low tones of Jaffir's voice stole into it quietly telling the men to +cease paddling, and the long canoe came to a rest slowly, no more than +ten yards from the beach. The party had been provided with a torch which +was to be lighted before the canoe touched the shore, thus giving a +character of openness to this desperate expedition. "And if it draws +fire on us," Jaffir had commented to Jorgenson, "well, then, we shall +see whose fate it is to die on this night." + +"Yes," had muttered Jorgenson. "We shall see." + +Jorgenson saw at last the small light of the torch against the blackness +of the stockade. He strained his hearing for a possible volley of +musketry fire but no sound came to him over the broad surface of the +lagoon. Over there the man with the torch, the other paddler, and Jaffir +himself impelling with a gentle motion of his paddle the canoe toward +the shore, had the glistening eyeballs and the tense faces of silent +excitement. The ruddy glare smote Mrs. Travers' closed eyelids but she +didn't open her eyes till she felt the canoe touch the strand. The two +men leaped instantly out of it. Mrs. Travers rose, abruptly. Nobody made +a sound. She stumbled out of the canoe on to the beach and almost before +she had recovered her balance the torch was thrust into her hand. +The heat, the nearness of the blaze confused and blinded her till, +instinctively, she raised the torch high above her head. For a moment +she stood still, holding aloft the fierce flame from which a few sparks +were falling slowly. + +A naked bronze arm lighted from above pointed out the direction and Mrs. +Travers began to walk toward the featureless black mass of the stockade. +When after a few steps she looked back over her shoulder, the lagoon, +the beach, the canoe, the men she had just left had become already +invisible. She was alone bearing up a blazing torch on an earth that was +a dumb shadow shifting under her feet. At last she reached firmer ground +and the dark length of the palisade untouched as yet by the light of the +torch seemed to her immense, intimidating. She felt ready to drop from +sheer emotion. But she moved on. + +"A little more to the left," shouted a strong voice. + +It vibrated through all her fibres, rousing like the call of a trumpet, +went far beyond her, filled all the space. Mrs. Travers stood still for +a moment, then casting far away from her the burning torch ran forward +blindly with her hands extended toward the great sound of Lingard's +voice, leaving behind her the light flaring and spluttering on the +ground. She stumbled and was only saved from a fall by her hands coming +in contact with the rough stakes. The stockade rose high above her +head and she clung to it with widely open arms, pressing her whole body +against the rugged surface of that enormous and unscalable palisade. She +heard through it low voices inside, heavy thuds; and felt at every blow +a slight vibration of the ground under her feet. She glanced fearfully +over her shoulder and saw nothing in the darkness but the expiring glow +of the torch she had thrown away and the sombre shimmer of the lagoon +bordering the opaque darkness of the shore. Her strained eyeballs seemed +to detect mysterious movements in the darkness and she gave way to +irresistible terror, to a shrinking agony of apprehension. Was she to be +transfixed by a broad blade, to the high, immovable wall of wood against +which she was flattening herself desperately, as though she could hope +to penetrate it by the mere force of her fear? She had no idea where +she was, but as a matter of fact she was a little to the left of the +principal gate and almost exactly under one of the loopholes of the +stockade. Her excessive anguish passed into insensibility. She ceased to +hear, to see, and even to feel the contact of the surface to which +she clung. Lingard's voice somewhere from the sky above her head was +directing her, distinct, very close, full of concern. + +"You must stoop low. Lower yet." + +The stagnant blood of her body began to pulsate languidly. She stooped +low--lower yet--so low that she had to sink on her knees, and then +became aware of a faint smell of wood smoke mingled with the confused +murmur of agitated voices. This came to her through an opening no higher +than her head in her kneeling posture, and no wider than the breadth of +two stakes. Lingard was saying in a tone of distress: + +"I couldn't get any of them to unbar the gate." + +She was unable to make a sound.--"Are you there?" Lingard asked, +anxiously, so close to her now that she seemed to feel the very breath +of his words on her face. It revived her completely; she understood what +she had to do. She put her head and shoulders through the opening, was +at once seized under the arms by an eager grip and felt herself pulled +through with an irresistible force and with such haste that her scarf +was dragged off her head, its fringes having caught in the rough timber. +The same eager grip lifted her up, stood her on her feet without her +having to make any exertion toward that end. She became aware that +Lingard was trying to say something, but she heard only a confused +stammering expressive of wonder and delight in which she caught the +words "You . . . you . . ." deliriously repeated. He didn't release his +hold of her; his helpful and irresistible grip had changed into a close +clasp, a crushing embrace, the violent taking possession by an embodied +force that had broken loose and was not to be controlled any longer. +As his great voice had done a moment before, his great strength, +too, seemed able to fill all space in its enveloping and undeniable +authority. Every time she tried instinctively to stiffen herself against +its might, it reacted, affirming its fierce will, its uplifting power. +Several times she lost the feeling of the ground and had a sensation of +helplessness without fear, of triumph without exultation. The inevitable +had come to pass. She had foreseen it--and all the time in that dark +place and against the red glow of camp fires within the stockade the +man in whose arms she struggled remained shadowy to her eyes--to her +half-closed eyes. She thought suddenly, "He will crush me to death +without knowing it." + +He was like a blind force. She closed her eyes altogether. Her head fell +back a little. Not instinctively but with wilful resignation and as +it were from a sense of justice she abandoned herself to his arms. The +effect was as though she had suddenly stabbed him to the heart. He let +her go so suddenly and completely that she would have fallen down in +a heap if she had not managed to catch hold of his forearm. He seemed +prepared for it and for a moment all her weight hung on it without +moving its rigidity by a hair's breadth. Behind her Mrs. Travers heard +the heavy thud of blows on wood, the confused murmurs and movements of +men. + +A voice said suddenly, "It's done," with such emphasis that though, +of course, she didn't understand the words it helped her to regain +possession of herself; and when Lingard asked her very little above a +whisper: "Why don't you say something?" she answered readily, "Let me +get my breath first." + +Round them all sounds had ceased. The men had secured again the +opening through which those arms had snatched her into a moment of +self-forgetfulness which had left her out of breath but uncrushed. As +if something imperative had been satisfied she had a moment of inward +serenity, a period of peace without thought while, holding to that arm +that trembled no more than an arm of iron, she felt stealthily over the +ground for one of the sandals which she had lost. Oh, yes, there was no +doubt of it, she had been carried off the earth, without shame, without +regret. But she would not have let him know of that dropped sandal for +anything in the world. That lost sandal was as symbolic as a dropped +veil. But he did not know of it. He must never know. Where was that +thing? She felt sure that they had not moved an inch from that spot. +Presently her foot found it and still gripping Lingard's forearm she +stooped to secure it properly. When she stood up, still holding his arm, +they confronted each other, he rigid in an effort of self-command but +feeling as if the surges of the heaviest sea that he could remember in +his life were running through his heart; and the woman as if emptied +of all feeling by her experience, without thought yet, but beginning to +regain her sense of the situation and the memory of the immediate past. + +"I have been watching at that loophole for an hour, ever since they came +running to me with that story of the rockets," said Lingard. "I was shut +up with Belarab then. I was looking out when the torch blazed and you +stepped ashore. I thought I was dreaming. But what could I do? I felt I +must rush to you but I dared not. That clump of palms is full of men. So +are the houses you saw that time you came ashore with me. Full of men. +Armed men. A trigger is soon pulled and when once shooting begins. . . . +And you walking in the open with that light above your head! I didn't +dare. You were safer alone. I had the strength to hold myself in and +watch you come up from the shore. No! No man that ever lived had seen +such a sight. What did you come for?" + +"Didn't you expect somebody? I don't mean me, I mean a messenger?" + +"No!" said Lingard, wondering at his own self-control. "Why did he let +you come?" + +"You mean Captain Jorgenson? Oh, he refused at first. He said that he +had your orders." + +"How on earth did you manage to get round him?" said Lingard in his +softest tones. + +"I did not try," she began and checked herself. Lingard's question, +though he really didn't seem to care much about an answer, had aroused +afresh her suspicion of Jorgenson's change of front. "I didn't have +to say very much at the last," she continued, gasping yet a little and +feeling her personality, crushed to nothing in the hug of those arms, +expand again to its full significance before the attentive immobility +of that man. "Captain Jorgenson has always looked upon me as a nuisance. +Perhaps he had made up his mind to get rid of me even against your +orders. Is he quite sane?" + +She released her firm hold of that iron forearm which fell slowly +by Lingard's side. She had regained fully the possession of her +personality. There remained only a fading, slightly breathless +impression of a short flight above that earth on which her feet were +firmly planted now. "And is that all?" she asked herself, not bitterly, +but with a sort of tender contempt. + +"He is so sane," sounded Lingard's voice, gloomily, "that if I had +listened to him you would not have found me here." + +"What do you mean by here? In this stockade?" + +"Anywhere," he said. + +"And what would have happened then?" + +"God knows," he answered. "What would have happened if the world had not +been made in seven days? I have known you for just about that time. It +began by me coming to you at night--like a thief in the night. Where the +devil did I hear that? And that man you are married to thinks I am no +better than a thief." + +"It ought to be enough for you that I never made a mistake as to what +you are, that I come to you in less than twenty-four hours after you +left me contemptuously to my distress. Don't pretend you didn't hear me +call after you. Oh, yes, you heard. The whole ship heard me for I had no +shame." + +"Yes, you came," said Lingard, violently. "But have you really come? I +can't believe my eyes! Are you really here?" + +"This is a dark spot, luckily," said Mrs. Travers. "But can you really +have any doubt?" she added, significantly. + +He made a sudden movement toward her, betraying so much passion that +Mrs. Travers thought, "I shan't come out alive this time," and yet he +was there, motionless before her, as though he had never stirred. It +was more as though the earth had made a sudden movement under his feet +without being able to destroy his balance. But the earth under Mrs. +Travers' feet had made no movement and for a second she was overwhelmed +by wonder not at this proof of her own self-possession but at the man's +immense power over himself. If it had not been for her strange inward +exhaustion she would perhaps have surrendered to that power. But it +seemed to her that she had nothing in her worth surrendering, and it +was in a perfectly even tone that she said, "Give me your arm, Captain +Lingard. We can't stay all night on this spot." + +As they moved on she thought, "There is real greatness in that man." +He was great even in his behaviour. No apologies, no explanations, no +abasement, no violence, and not even the slightest tremor of the frame +holding that bold and perplexed soul. She knew that for certain because +her fingers were resting lightly on Lingard's arm while she walked +slowly by his side as though he were taking her down to dinner. And yet +she couldn't suppose for a moment, that, like herself, he was emptied of +all emotion. She never before was so aware of him as a dangerous force. +"He is really ruthless," she thought. They had just left the shadow of +the inner defences about the gate when a slightly hoarse, apologetic +voice was heard behind them repeating insistently, what even Mrs. +Travers' ear detected to be a sort of formula. The words were: "There +is this thing--there is this thing--there is this thing." They turned +round. + +"Oh, my scarf," said Mrs. Travers. + +A short, squat, broad-faced young fellow having for all costume a pair +of white drawers was offering the scarf thrown over both his arms, as +if they had been sticks, and holding it respectfully as far as possible +from his person. Lingard took it from him and Mrs. Travers claimed it +at once. "Don't forget the proprieties," she said. "This is also my face +veil." + +She was arranging it about her head when Lingard said, "There is no +need. I am taking you to those gentlemen."--"I will use it all the +same," said Mrs. Travers. "This thing works both ways, as a matter of +propriety or as a matter of precaution. Till I have an opportunity of +looking into a mirror nothing will persuade me that there isn't some +change in my face." Lingard swung half round and gazed down at her. +Veiled now she confronted him boldly. "Tell me, Captain Lingard, how +many eyes were looking at us a little while ago?" + +"Do you care?" he asked. + +"Not in the least," she said. "A million stars were looking on, too, and +what did it matter? They were not of the world I know. And it's just the +same with the eyes. They are not of the world I live in." + +Lingard thought: "Nobody is." Never before had she seemed to him more +unapproachable, more different and more remote. The glow of a number of +small fires lighted the ground only, and brought out the black bulk +of men lying down in the thin drift of smoke. Only one of these fires, +rather apart and burning in front of the house which was the quarter of +the prisoners, might have been called a blaze and even that was not a +great one. It didn't penetrate the dark space between the piles and the +depth of the verandah above where only a couple of heads and the glint +of a spearhead could be seen dimly in the play of the light. But down +on the ground outside, the black shape of a man seated on a bench had +an intense relief. Another intensely black shadow threw a handful of +brushwood on the fire and went away. The man on the bench got up. It was +d'Alcacer. He let Lingard and Mrs. Travers come quite close up to him. +Extreme surprise seemed to have made him dumb. + +"You didn't expect . . ." began Mrs. Travers with some embarrassment +before that mute attitude. + +"I doubted my eyes," struck in d'Alcacer, who seemed embarrassed, too. +Next moment he recovered his tone and confessed simply: "At the moment +I wasn't thinking of you, Mrs. Travers." He passed his hand over his +forehead. "I hardly know what I was thinking of." + +In the light of the shooting-up flame Mrs. Travers could see d'Alcacer's +face. There was no smile on it. She could not remember ever seeing him +so grave and, as it were, so distant. She abandoned Lingard's arm and +moved closer to the fire. + +"I fancy you were very far away, Mr. d'Alcacer," she said. + +"This is the sort of freedom of which nothing can deprive us," he +observed, looking hard at the manner in which the scarf was drawn across +Mrs. Travers' face. "It's possible I was far away," he went on, "but I +can assure you that I don't know where I was. Less than an hour ago we +had a great excitement here about some rockets, but I didn't share in +it. There was no one I could ask a question of. The captain here was, +I understood, engaged in a most momentous conversation with the king or +the governor of this place." + +He addressed Lingard, directly. "May I ask whether you have reached any +conclusion as yet? That Moor is a very dilatory person, I believe." + +"Any direct attack he would, of course, resist," said Lingard. "And, so +far, you are protected. But I must admit that he is rather angry with +me. He's tired of the whole business. He loves peace above anything in +the world. But I haven't finished with him yet." + +"As far as I understood from what you told me before," said Mr. +d'Alcacer, with a quick side glance at Mrs. Travers' uncovered and +attentive eyes, "as far as I can see he may get all the peace he wants +at once by driving us two, I mean Mr. Travers and myself, out of the +gate on to the spears of those other enraged barbarians. And there are +some of his counsellors who advise him to do that very thing no later +than the break of day I understand." + +Lingard stood for a moment perfectly motionless. + +"That's about it," he said in an unemotional tone, and went away with +a heavy step without giving another look at d'Alcacer and Mrs. Travers, +who after a moment faced each other. + +"You have heard?" said d'Alcacer. "Of course that doesn't affect your +fate in any way, and as to him he is much too prestigious to be killed +light-heartedly. When all this is over you will walk triumphantly on his +arm out of this stockade; for there is nothing in all this to affect his +greatness, his absolute value in the eyes of those people--and indeed in +any other eyes." D'Alcacer kept his glance averted from Mrs. Travers and +as soon as he had finished speaking busied himself in dragging the bench +a little way further from the fire. When they sat down on it he kept his +distance from Mrs. Travers. She made no sign of unveiling herself and +her eyes without a face seemed to him strangely unknown and disquieting. + +"The situation in a nutshell," she said. "You have arranged it all +beautifully, even to my triumphal exit. Well, and what then? No, you +needn't answer, it has no interest. I assure you I came here not with +any notion of marching out in triumph, as you call it. I came here, to +speak in the most vulgar way, to save your skin--and mine." + +Her voice came muffled to d'Alcacer's ears with a changed character, +even to the very intonation. Above the white and embroidered scarf her +eyes in the firelight transfixed him, black and so steady that even the +red sparks of the reflected glare did not move in them. He concealed the +strong impression she made. He bowed his head a little. + +"I believe you know perfectly well what you are doing." + +"No! I don't know," she said, more quickly than he had ever heard her +speak before. "First of all, I don't think he is so safe as you imagine. +Oh, yes, he has prestige enough, I don't question that. But you are +apportioning life and death with too much assurance. . . ." + +"I know my portion," murmured d'Alcacer, gently. A moment of silence +fell in which Mrs. Travers' eyes ended by intimidating d'Alcacer, +who looked away. The flame of the fire had sunk low. In the dark +agglomeration of buildings, which might have been called Belarab's +palace, there was a certain animation, a flitting of people, voices +calling and answering, the passing to and fro of lights that would +illuminate suddenly a heavy pile, the corner of a house, the eaves of a +low-pitched roof, while in the open parts of the stockade the armed men +slept by the expiring fires. + +Mrs. Travers said, suddenly, "That Jorgenson is not friendly to us." + +"Possibly." + +With clasped hands and leaning over his knees d'Alcacer had assented +in a very low tone. Mrs. Travers, unobserved, pressed her hands to her +breast and felt the shape of the ring, thick, heavy, set with a big +stone. It was there, secret, hung against her heart, and enigmatic. What +did it mean? What could it mean? What was the feeling it could arouse or +the action it could provoke? And she thought with compunction that she +ought to have given it to Lingard at once, without thinking, without +hesitating. "There! This is what I came for. To give you this." Yes, but +there had come an interval when she had been able to think of nothing, +and since then she had had the time to reflect--unfortunately. To +remember Jorgenson's hostile, contemptuous glance enveloping her from +head to foot at the break of a day after a night of lonely anguish. And +now while she sat there veiled from his keen sight there was that other +man, that d'Alcacer, prophesying. O yes, triumphant. She knew already +what that was. Mrs. Travers became afraid of the ring. She felt ready to +pluck it from her neck and cast it away. + +"I mistrust him," she said.--"You do!" exclaimed d'Alcacer, +very low.--"I mean that Jorgenson. He seems a merciless sort of +creature."--"He is indifferent to everything," said d'Alcacer.--"It may +be a mask."--"Have you some evidence, Mrs. Travers?" + +"No," said Mrs. Travers without hesitation. "I have my instinct." + +D'Alcacer remained silent for a while as though he were pursuing another +train of thought altogether, then in a gentle, almost playful tone: "If +I were a woman," he said, turning to Mrs. Travers, "I would always trust +my intuition."--"If you were a woman, Mr. d'Alcacer, I would not be +speaking to you in this way because then I would be suspect to you." + +The thought that before long perhaps he would be neither man nor woman +but a lump of cold clay, crossed d'Alcacer's mind, which was living, +alert, and unsubdued by the danger. He had welcomed the arrival of Mrs. +Travers simply because he had been very lonely in that stockade, Mr. +Travers having fallen into a phase of sulks complicated with shivering +fits. Of Lingard d'Alcacer had seen almost nothing since they had +landed, for the Man of Fate was extremely busy negotiating in the +recesses of Belarab's main hut; and the thought that his life was being +a matter of arduous bargaining was not agreeable to Mr. d'Alcacer. The +Chief's dependents and the armed men garrisoning the stockade paid very +little attention to him apparently, and this gave him the feeling of his +captivity being very perfect and hopeless. During the afternoon, while +pacing to and fro in the bit of shade thrown by the glorified sort of +hut inside which Mr. Travers shivered and sulked misanthropically, he +had been aware of the more distant verandahs becoming filled now and +then by the muffled forms of women of Belarab's household taking a +distant and curious view of the white man. All this was irksome. He +found his menaced life extremely difficult to get through. Yes, he +welcomed the arrival of Mrs. Travers who brought with her a tragic note +into the empty gloom. + +"Suspicion is not in my nature, Mrs. Travers, I assure you, and I +hope that you on your side will never suspect either my reserve or my +frankness. I respect the mysterious nature of your conviction but hasn't +Jorgenson given you some occasion to. . ." + +"He hates me," said Mrs. Travers, and frowned at d'Alcacer's incipient +smile. "It isn't a delusion on my part. The worst is that he hates me +not for myself. I believe he is completely indifferent to my existence. +Jorgenson hates me because as it were I represent you two who are in +danger, because it is you two that are the trouble and I . . . Well!" + +"Yes, yes, that's certain," said d'Alcacer, hastily. "But Jorgenson is +wrong in making you the scapegoat. For if you were not here cool reason +would step in and would make Lingard pause in his passion to make a king +out of an exile. If we were murdered it would certainly make some stir +in the world in time and he would fall under the suspicion of complicity +with those wild and inhuman Moors. Who would regard the greatness of his +day-dreams, his engaged honour, his chivalrous feelings? Nothing could +save him from that suspicion. And being what he is, you understand me, +Mrs. Travers (but you know him much better than I do), it would morally +kill him." + +"Heavens!" whispered Mrs. Travers. "This has never occurred to me." +Those words seemed to lose themselves in the folds of the scarf without +reaching d'Alcacer, who continued in his gentle tone: + +'"However, as it is, he will be safe enough whatever happens. He will +have your testimony to clear him." + +Mrs. Travers stood up, suddenly, but still careful to keep her face +covered, she threw the end of the scarf over her shoulder. + +"I fear that Jorgenson," she cried with suppressed passion. "One can't +understand what that man means to do. I think him so dangerous that if I +were, for instance, entrusted with a message bearing on the situation, I +would . . . suppress it." + +D'Alcacer was looking up from the seat, full of wonder. Mrs. Travers +appealed to him in a calm voice through the folds of the scarf: + +"Tell me, Mr. d'Alcacer, you who can look on it calmly, wouldn't I be +right?" + +"Why, has Jorgenson told you anything?" + +"Directly--nothing, except a phrase or two which really I could not +understand. They seemed to have a hidden sense and he appeared to attach +some mysterious importance to them that he dared not explain to me." + +"That was a risk on his part," exclaimed d'Alcacer. "And he trusted you. +Why you, I wonder!" + +"Who can tell what notions he has in his head? Mr. d'Alcacer, I believe +his only object is to call Captain Lingard away from us. I understood it +only a few minutes ago. It has dawned upon me. All he wants is to call +him off." + +"Call him off," repeated d'Alcacer, a little bewildered by the aroused +fire of her conviction. "I am sure I don't want him called off any more +than you do; and, frankly, I don't believe Jorgenson has any such power. +But upon the whole, and if you feel that Jorgenson has the power, I +would--yes, if I were in your place I think I would suppress anything I +could not understand." + +Mrs. Travers listened to the very end. Her eyes--they appeared +incredibly sombre to d'Alcacer--seemed to watch the fall of every +deliberate word and after he had ceased they remained still for an +appreciable time. Then she turned away with a gesture that seemed to +say: "So be it." + +D'Alcacer raised his voice suddenly after her. "Stay! Don't forget that +not only your husband's but my head, too, is being played at that game. +My judgment is not . . ." + +She stopped for a moment and freed her lips. In the profound stillness +of the courtyard her clear voice made the shadows at the nearest fires +stir a little with low murmurs of surprise. + +"Oh, yes, I remember whose heads I have to save," she cried. "But in all +the world who is there to save that man from himself?" + + + +V + +D'Alcacer sat down on the bench again. "I wonder what she knows," he +thought, "and I wonder what I have done." He wondered also how far he +had been sincere and how far affected by a very natural aversion from +being murdered obscurely by ferocious Moors with all the circumstances +of barbarity. It was a very naked death to come upon one suddenly. It +was robbed of all helpful illusions, such as the free will of a suicide, +the heroism of a warrior, or the exaltation of a martyr. "Hadn't I +better make some sort of fight of it?" he debated with himself. He saw +himself rushing at the naked spears without any enthusiasm. Or wouldn't +it be better to go forth to meet his doom (somewhere outside the +stockade on that horrible beach) with calm dignity. "Pah! I shall be +probably speared through the back in the beastliest possible fashion," +he thought with an inward shudder. It was certainly not a shudder of +fear, for Mr. d'Alcacer attached no high value to life. It was a shudder +of disgust because Mr. d'Alcacer was a civilized man and though he had +no illusions about civilization he could not but admit the superiority +of its methods. It offered to one a certain refinement of form, a +comeliness of proceedings and definite safeguards against deadly +surprises. "How idle all this is," he thought, finally. His next thought +was that women were very resourceful. It was true, he went on meditating +with unwonted cynicism, that strictly speaking they had only one +resource but, generally, it served--it served. + +He was surprised by his supremely shameless bitterness at this juncture. +It was so uncalled for. This situation was too complicated to be +entrusted to a cynical or shameless hope. There was nothing to trust to. +At this moment of his meditation he became aware of Lingard's approach. +He raised his head eagerly. D'Alcacer was not indifferent to his fate +and even to Mr. Travers' fate. He would fain learn. . . . But one look +at Lingard's face was enough. "It's no use asking him anything," he said +to himself, "for he cares for nothing just now." + +Lingard sat down heavily on the other end of the bench, and d'Alcacer, +looking at his profile, confessed to himself that this was the most +masculinely good-looking face he had ever seen in his life. It was +an expressive face, too, but its present expression was also beyond +d'Alcacer's past experience. At the same time its quietness set up a +barrier against common curiosities and even common fears. No, it was +no use asking him anything. Yet something should be said to break the +spell, to call down again this man to the earth. But it was Lingard who +spoke first. "Where has Mrs. Travers gone?" + +"She has gone . . . where naturally she would be anxious to go first of +all since she has managed to come to us," answered d'Alcacer, wording +his answer with the utmost regard for the delicacy of the situation. + +The stillness of Lingard seemed to have grown even more impressive. He +spoke again. + +"I wonder what those two can have to say to each other." + +He might have been asking that of the whole darkened part of the globe, +but it was d'Alcacer who answered in his courteous tones. + +"Would it surprise you very much, Captain Lingard, if I were to tell you +that those two people are quite fit to understand each other thoroughly? +Yes? It surprises you! Well, I assure you that seven thousand miles from +here nobody would wonder." + +"I think I understand," said Lingard, "but don't you know the man is +light-headed? A man like that is as good as mad." + +"Yes, he had been slightly delirious since seven o'clock," said +d'Alcacer. "But believe me, Captain Lingard," he continued, earnestly, +and obeying a perfectly disinterested impulse, "that even in his +delirium he is far more understandable to her and better able to +understand her than . . . anybody within a hundred miles from here." + +"Ah!" said Lingard without any emotion, "so you don't wonder. You don't +see any reason for wonder." + +"No, for, don't you see, I do know." + +"What do you know?" + +"Men and women, Captain Lingard, which you. . . ." + +"I don't know any woman." + +"You have spoken the strictest truth there," said d'Alcacer, and for the +first time Lingard turned his head slowly and looked at his neighbour on +the bench. + +"Do you think she is as good as mad, too?" asked Lingard in a startled +voice. + +D'Alcacer let escape a low exclamation. No, certainly he did not think +so. It was an original notion to suppose that lunatics had a sort of +common logic which made them understandable to each other. D'Alcacer +tried to make his voice as gentle as possible while he pursued: "No, +Captain Lingard, I believe the woman of whom we speak is and will always +remain in the fullest possession of herself." + +Lingard, leaning back, clasped his hands round his knees. He seemed +not to be listening and d'Alcacer, pulling a cigarette case out of his +pocket, looked for a long time at the three cigarettes it contained. It +was the last of the provision he had on him when captured. D'Alcacer +had put himself on the strictest allowance. A cigarette was only to be +lighted on special occasions; and now there were only three left and +they had to be made to last till the end of life. They calmed, they +soothed, they gave an attitude. And only three left! One had to be +kept for the morning, to be lighted before going through the gate of +doom--the gate of Belarab's stockade. A cigarette soothed, it gave an +attitude. Was this the fitting occasion for one of the remaining two? +D'Alcacer, a true Latin, was not afraid of a little introspection. In +the pause he descended into the innermost depths of his being, then +glanced up at the night sky. Sportsman, traveller, he had often looked +up at the stars before to see how time went. It was going very slowly. +He took out a cigarette, snapped-to the case, bent down to the embers. +Then he sat up and blew out a thin cloud of smoke. The man by his side +looked with his bowed head and clasped knee like a masculine rendering +of mournful meditation. Such attitudes are met with sometimes on the +sculptures of ancient tombs. D'Alcacer began to speak: + +"She is a representative woman and yet one of those of whom there are +but very few at any time in the world. Not that they are very rare but +that there is but little room on top. They are the iridescent gleams on +a hard and dark surface. For the world is hard, Captain Lingard, it is +hard, both in what it will remember and in what it will forget. It +is for such women that people toil on the ground and underground and +artists of all sorts invoke their inspiration." + +Lingard seemed not to have heard a word. His chin rested on his breast. +D'Alcacer appraised the remaining length of his cigarette and went on in +an equable tone through which pierced a certain sadness: + +"No, there are not many of them. And yet they are all. They decorate our +life for us. They are the gracious figures on the drab wall which lies +on this side of our common grave. They lead a sort of ritual dance, that +most of us have agreed to take seriously. It is a very binding agreement +with which sincerity and good faith and honour have nothing to do. +Very binding. Woe to him or her who breaks it. Directly they leave the +pageant they get lost." + +Lingard turned his head sharply and discovered d'Alcacer looking at him +with profound attention. + +"They get lost in a maze," continued d'Alcacer, quietly. "They wander in +it lamenting over themselves. I would shudder at that fate for anything +I loved. Do you know, Captain Lingard, how people lost in a maze end?" +he went on holding Lingard by a steadfast stare. "No? . . . I will +tell you then. They end by hating their very selves, and they die in +disillusion and despair." + +As if afraid of the force of his words d'Alcacer laid a soothing hand +lightly on Lingard's shoulder. But Lingard continued to look into the +embers at his feet and remained insensible to the friendly touch. Yet +d'Alcacer could not imagine that he had not been heard. He folded his +arms on his breast. + +"I don't know why I have been telling you all this," he said, +apologetically. "I hope I have not been intruding on your thoughts." + +"I can think of nothing," Lingard declared, unexpectedly. "I only know +that your voice was friendly; and for the rest--" + +"One must get through a night like this somehow," said d'Alcacer. +"The very stars seem to lag on their way. It's a common belief that a +drowning man is irresistibly compelled to review his past experience. +Just now I feel quite out of my depth, and whatever I have said has come +from my experience. I am sure you will forgive me. All that it amounts +to is this: that it is natural for us to cry for the moon but it would +be very fatal to have our cries heard. For what could any one of us do +with the moon if it were given to him? I am speaking now of us--common +mortals." + +It was not immediately after d'Alcacer had ceased speaking but only +after a moment that Lingard unclasped his fingers, got up, and walked +away. D'Alcacer followed with a glance of quiet interest the big, +shadowy form till it vanished in the direction of an enormous forest +tree left in the middle of the stockade. The deepest shade of the night +was spread over the ground of Belarab's fortified courtyard. The very +embers of the fires had turned black, showing only here and there a mere +spark; and the forms of the prone sleepers could hardly be distinguished +from the hard ground on which they rested, with their arms lying +beside them on the mats. Presently Mrs. Travers appeared quite close to +d'Alcacer, who rose instantly. + +"Martin is asleep," said Mrs. Travers in a tone that seemed to have +borrowed something of the mystery and quietness of the night. + +"All the world's asleep," observed d'Alcacer, so low that Mrs. Travers +barely caught the words, "Except you and me, and one other who has left +me to wander about in the night." + +"Was he with you? Where has he gone?" + +"Where it's darkest I should think," answered d'Alcacer, secretly. "It's +no use going to look for him; but if you keep perfectly still and hold +your breath you may presently hear his footsteps." + +"What did he tell you?" breathed out Mrs. Travers. + +"I didn't ask him anything. I only know that something has happened +which has robbed him of his power of thinking . . . Hadn't I better go +to the hut? Don Martin ought to have someone with him when he wakes up." +Mrs. Travers remained perfectly still and even now and then held her +breath with a vague fear of hearing those footsteps wandering in the +dark. D'Alcacer had disappeared. Again Mrs. Travers held her breath. No. +Nothing. Not a sound. Only the night to her eyes seemed to have grown +darker. Was that a footstep? "Where could I hide myself?" she thought. +But she didn't move. + +After leaving d'Alcacer, Lingard threading his way between the fires +found himself under the big tree, the same tree against which Daman had +been leaning on the day of the great talk when the white prisoners had +been surrendered to Lingard's keeping on definite conditions. Lingard +passed through the deep obscurity made by the outspread boughs of the +only witness left there of a past that for endless ages had seen no +mankind on this shore defended by the Shallows, around this lagoon +overshadowed by the jungle. In the calm night the old giant, without +shudders or murmurs in its enormous limbs, saw the restless man drift +through the black shade into the starlight. + +In that distant part of the courtyard there were only a few sentries +who, themselves invisible, saw Lingard's white figure pace to and fro +endlessly. They knew well who that was. It was the great white man. A +very great man. A very rich man. A possessor of fire-arms, who could +dispense valuable gifts and deal deadly blows, the friend of their +Ruler, the enemy of his enemies, known to them for years and always +mysterious. At their posts, flattened against the stakes near convenient +loopholes, they cast backward glances and exchanged faint whispers from +time to time. + +Lingard might have thought himself alone. He had lost touch with the +world. What he had said to d'Alcacer was perfectly true. He had no +thought. He was in the state of a man who, having cast his eyes through +the open gates of Paradise, is rendered insensible by that moment's +vision to all the forms and matters of the earth; and in the extremity +of his emotion ceases even to look upon himself but as the subject of +a sublime experience which exalts or unfits, sanctifies or damns--he +didn't know which. Every shadowy thought, every passing sensation was +like a base intrusion on that supreme memory. He couldn't bear it. + +When he had tried to resume his conversation with Belarab after Mrs. +Travers' arrival he had discovered himself unable to go on. He had just +enough self-control to break off the interview in measured terms. He +pointed out the lateness of the hour, a most astonishing excuse to +people to whom time is nothing and whose life and activities are not +ruled by the clock. Indeed Lingard hardly knew what he was saying or +doing when he went out again leaving everybody dumb with astonishment +at the change in his aspect and in his behaviour. A suspicious silence +reigned for a long time in Belarab's great audience room till the Chief +dismissed everybody by two quiet words and a slight gesture. + +With her chin in her hand in the pose of a sybil trying to read the +future in the glow of dying embers, Mrs. Travers, without holding +her breath, heard quite close to her the footsteps which she had been +listening for with mingled alarm, remorse, and hope. + +She didn't change her attitude. The deep red glow lighted her up dimly, +her face, the white hand hanging by her side, her feet in their sandals. +The disturbing footsteps stopped close to her. + +"Where have you been all this time?" she asked, without looking round. + +"I don't know," answered Lingard. He was speaking the exact truth. +He didn't know. Ever since he had released that woman from his arms +everything but the vaguest notions had departed from him. Events, +necessities, things--he had lost his grip on them all. And he didn't +care. They were futile and impotent; he had no patience with them. The +offended and astonished Belarab, d'Alcacer with his kindly touch and +friendly voice, the sleeping men, the men awake, the Settlement full of +unrestful life and the restless Shallows of the coast, were removed from +him into an immensity of pitying contempt. Perhaps they existed. Perhaps +all this waited for him. Well, let all this wait; let everything wait, +till to-morrow or to the end of time, which could now come at any moment +for all he cared--but certainly till to-morrow. + +"I only know," he went on with an emphasis that made Mrs. Travers raise +her head, "that wherever I go I shall carry you with me--against my +breast." + +Mrs. Travers' fine ear caught the mingled tones of suppressed exultation +and dawning fear, the ardour and the faltering of those words. She was +feeling still the physical truth at the root of them so strongly that +she couldn't help saying in a dreamy whisper: + +"Did you mean to crush the life out of me?" + +He answered in the same tone: + +"I could not have done it. You are too strong. Was I rough? I didn't +mean to be. I have been often told I didn't know my own strength. You +did not seem able to get through that opening and so I caught hold +of you. You came away in my hands quite easily. Suddenly I thought to +myself, 'now I will make sure.'" + +He paused as if his breath had failed him. Mrs. Travers dared not make +the slightest movement. Still in the pose of one in quest of hidden +truth she murmured, "Make sure?" + +"Yes. And now I am sure. You are here--here! Before I couldn't tell." + +"Oh, you couldn't tell before," she said. + +"No." + +"So it was reality that you were seeking." + +He repeated as if speaking to himself: "And now I am sure." + +Her sandalled foot, all rosy in the glow, felt the warmth of the embers. +The tepid night had enveloped her body; and still under the impression +of his strength she gave herself up to a momentary feeling of quietude +that came about her heart as soft as the night air penetrated by the +feeble clearness of the stars. "This is a limpid soul," she thought. + +"You know I always believed in you," he began again. "You know I did. +Well. I never believed in you so much as I do now, as you sit there, +just as you are, and with hardly enough light to make you out by." + +It occurred to her that she had never heard a voice she liked so +well--except one. But that had been a great actor's voice; whereas this +man was nothing in the world but his very own self. He persuaded, he +moved, he disturbed, he soothed by his inherent truth. He had wanted to +make sure and he had made sure apparently; and too weary to resist +the waywardness of her thoughts Mrs. Travers reflected with a sort of +amusement that apparently he had not been disappointed. She thought, "He +believes in me. What amazing words. Of all the people that might have +believed in me I had to find this one here. He believes in me more than +in himself." A gust of sudden remorse tore her out from her quietness, +made her cry out to him: + +"Captain Lingard, we forget how we have met, we forget what is going on. +We mustn't. I won't say that you placed your belief wrongly but I have +to confess something to you. I must tell you how I came here to-night. +Jorgenson . . ." + +He interrupted her forcibly but without raising his voice. + +"Jorgenson. Who's Jorgenson? You came to me because you couldn't help +yourself." + +This took her breath away. "But I must tell you. There is something in +my coming which is not clear to me." + +"You can tell me nothing that I don't know already," he said in +a pleading tone. "Say nothing. Sit still. Time enough to-morrow. +To-morrow! The night is drawing to an end and I care for nothing in the +world but you. Let me be. Give me the rest that is in you." + +She had never heard such accents on his lips and she felt for him a +great and tender pity. Why not humour this mood in which he wanted to +preserve the moments that would never come to him again on this earth? +She hesitated in silence. She saw him stir in the darkness as if he +could not make up his mind to sit down on the bench. But suddenly he +scattered the embers with his foot and sank on the ground against her +feet, and she was not startled in the least to feel the weight of his +head on her knee. Mrs. Travers was not startled but she felt profoundly +moved. Why should she torment him with all those questions of freedom +and captivity, of violence and intrigue, of life and death? He was not +in a state to be told anything and it seemed to her that she did not +want to speak, that in the greatness of her compassion she simply could +not speak. All she could do for him was to rest her hand lightly on his +head and respond silently to the slight movement she felt, sigh or sob, +but a movement which suddenly immobilized her in an anxious emotion. + +About the same time on the other side of the lagoon Jorgenson, raising +his eyes, noted the stars and said to himself that the night would not +last long now. He wished for daylight. He hoped that Lingard had already +done something. The blaze in Tengga's compound had been re-lighted. +Tom's power was unbounded, practically unbounded. And he was +invulnerable. + +Jorgenson let his old eyes wander amongst the gleams and shadows of the +great sheet of water between him and that hostile shore and fancied he +could detect a floating shadow having the characteristic shape of a man +in a small canoe. + +"O! Ya! Man!" he hailed. "What do you want?" Other eyes, too, had +detected that shadow. Low murmurs arose on the deck of the Emma. "If you +don't speak at once I shall fire," shouted Jorgenson, fiercely. + +"No, white man," returned the floating shape in a solemn drawl. "I am +the bearer of friendly words. A chief's words. I come from Tengga." + +"There was a bullet that came on board not a long time ago--also from +Tengga," said Jorgenson. + +"That was an accident," protested the voice from the lagoon. "What else +could it be? Is there war between you and Tengga? No, no, O white man! +All Tengga desires is a long talk. He has sent me to ask you to come +ashore." + +At these words Jorgenson's heart sank a little. This invitation meant +that Lingard had made no move. Was Tom asleep or altogether mad? + +"The talk would be of peace," declared impressively the shadow which had +drifted much closer to the hulk now. + +"It isn't for me to talk with great chiefs," Jorgenson returned, +cautiously. + +"But Tengga is a friend," argued the nocturnal messenger. "And by that +fire there are other friends--your friends, the Rajah Hassim and the +lady Immada, who send you their greetings and who expect their eyes to +rest on you before sunrise." + +"That's a lie," remarked Jorgenson, perfunctorily, and fell into +thought, while the shadowy bearer of words preserved a scandalized +silence, though, of course, he had not expected to be believed for a +moment. But one could never tell what a white man would believe. He +had wanted to produce the impression that Hassim and Immada were the +honoured guests of Tengga. It occurred to him suddenly that perhaps +Jorgenson didn't know anything of the capture. And he persisted. + +"My words are all true, Tuan. The Rajah of Wajo and his sister are with +my master. I left them sitting by the fire on Tengga's right hand. Will +you come ashore to be welcomed amongst friends?" + +Jorgenson had been reflecting profoundly. His object was to gain as much +time as possible for Lingard's interference which indeed could not fail +to be effective. But he had not the slightest wish to entrust himself to +Tengga's friendliness. Not that he minded the risk; but he did not see +the use of taking it. + +"No!" he said, "I can't go ashore. We white men have ways of our own +and I am chief of this hulk. And my chief is the Rajah Laut, a white man +like myself. All the words that matter are in him and if Tengga is such +a great chief let him ask the Rajah Laut for a talk. Yes, that's the +proper thing for Tengga to do if he is such a great chief as he says." + +"The Rajah Laut has made his choice. He dwells with Belarab, and with +the white people who are huddled together like trapped deer in Belarab's +stockade. Why shouldn't you meantime go over where everything is lighted +up and open and talk in friendship with Tengga's friends, whose hearts +have been made sick by many doubts; Rajah Hassim and the lady Immada and +Daman, the chief of the men of the sea, who do not know now whom they +can trust unless it be you, Tuan, the keeper of much wealth?" + +The diplomatist in the small dugout paused for a moment to give special +weight to the final argument: + +"Which you have no means to defend. We know how many armed men there are +with you." + +"They are great fighters," Jorgenson observed, unconcernedly, spreading +his elbows on the rail and looking over at the floating black patch of +characteristic shape whence proceeded the voice of the wily envoy of +Tengga. "Each man of them is worth ten of such as you can find in the +Settlement." + +"Yes, by Allah. Even worth twenty of these common people. Indeed, you +have enough with you to make a great fight but not enough for victory." + +"God alone gives victory," said suddenly the voice of Jaffir, who, very +still at Jorgenson's elbow, had been listening to the conversation. + +"Very true," was the answer in an extremely conventional tone. "Will you +come ashore, O white man; and be the leader of chiefs?" + +"I have been that before," said Jorgenson, with great dignity, "and now +all I want is peace. But I won't come ashore amongst people whose minds +are so much troubled, till Rajah Hassim and his sister return on board +this ship and tell me the tale of their new friendship with Tengga." + +His heart was sinking with every minute, the very air was growing +heavier with the sense of oncoming disaster, on that night that was +neither war nor peace and whose only voice was the voice of Tengga's +envoy, insinuating in tone though menacing in words. + +"No, that cannot be," said that voice. "But, Tuan, verily Tengga himself +is ready to come on board here to talk with you. He is very ready to +come and indeed, Tuan, he means to come on board here before very long." + +"Yes, with fifty war-canoes filled with the ferocious rabble of the +Shore of Refuge," Jaffir was heard commenting, sarcastically, over the +rail; and a sinister muttered "It may be so," ascended alongside from +the black water. + +Jorgenson kept silent as if waiting for a supreme inspiration and +suddenly he spoke in his other-world voice: "Tell Tengga from me that as +long as he brings with him Rajah Hassim and the Rajah's sister, he and +his chief men will be welcome on deck here, no matter how many boats +come along with them. For that I do not care. You may go now." + +A profound silence succeeded. It was clear that the envoy was gone, +keeping in the shadow of the shore. Jorgenson turned to Jaffir. + +"Death amongst friends is but a festival," he quoted, mumbling in his +moustache. + +"It is, by Allah," assented Jaffir with sombre fervour. + + + +VI + +Thirty-six hours later Carter, alone with Lingard in the cabin of the +brig, could almost feel during a pause in his talk the oppressive, the +breathless peace of the Shallows awaiting another sunset. + +"I never expected to see any of you alive," Carter began in his easy +tone, but with much less carelessness in his bearing as though his days +of responsibility amongst the Shoals of the Shore of Refuge had matured +his view of the external world and of his own place therein. + +"Of course not," muttered Lingard. + +The listlessness of that man whom he had always seen acting under +the stress of a secret passion seemed perfectly appalling to Carter's +youthful and deliberate energy. Ever since he had found himself +again face to face with Lingard he had tried to conceal the shocking +impression with a delicacy which owed nothing to training but was as +intuitive as a child's. + +While justifying to Lingard his manner of dealing with the situation +on the Shore of Refuge, he could not for the life of him help asking +himself what was this new mystery. He was also young enough to long for +a word of commendation. + +"Come, Captain," he argued; "how would you have liked to come out and +find nothing but two half-burnt wrecks stuck on the sands--perhaps?" + +He waited for a moment, then in sheer compassion turned away his eyes +from that fixed gaze, from that harassed face with sunk cheeks, from +that figure of indomitable strength robbed of its fire. He said to +himself: "He doesn't hear me," and raised his voice without altering its +self-contained tone: + +"I was below yesterday morning when we felt the shock, but the noise +came to us only as a deep rumble. I made one jump for the companion but +that precious Shaw was before me yelling, 'Earthquake! Earthquake!' and +I am hanged if he didn't miss his footing and land down on his head at +the bottom of the stairs. I had to stop to pick him up but I got on deck +in time to see a mighty black cloud that seemed almost solid pop up from +behind the forest like a balloon. It stayed there for quite a long time. +Some of our Calashes on deck swore to me that they had seen a red flash +above the tree-tops. But that's hard to believe. I guessed at once that +something had blown up on shore. My first thought was that I would never +see you any more and I made up my mind at once to find out all the truth +you have been keeping away from me. No, sir! Don't you make a mistake! I +wasn't going to give you up, dead or alive." + +He looked hard at Lingard while saying these words and saw the first +sign of animation pass over that ravaged face. He saw even its lips move +slightly; but there was no sound, and Carter looked away again. + +"Perhaps you would have done better by telling me everything; but you +left me behind on my own to be your man here. I put my hand to the +work I could see before me. I am a sailor. There were two ships to look +after. And here they are both for you, fit to go or to stay, to fight or +to run, as you choose." He watched with bated breath the effort Lingard +had to make to utter the two words of the desired commendation: + +"Well done!" + +"And I am your man still," Carter added, impulsively, and hastened to +look away from Lingard, who had tried to smile at him and had failed. +Carter didn't know what to do next, remain in the cabin or leave that +unsupported strong man to himself. With a shyness completely foreign to +his character and which he could not understand himself, he suggested +in an engaging murmur and with an embarrassed assumption of his right to +give advice: + +"Why not lie down for a bit, sir? I can attend to anything that may turn +up. You seem done up, sir." + +He was facing Lingard, who stood on the other side of the table in a +leaning forward attitude propped up on rigid arms and stared fixedly at +him--perhaps? Carter felt on the verge of despair. This couldn't last. +He was relieved to see Lingard shake his head slightly. + +"No, Mr. Carter. I think I will go on deck," said the Captain of the +famous brig Lightning, while his eyes roamed all over the cabin. Carter +stood aside at once, but it was some little time before Lingard made a +move. + +The sun had sunk already, leaving that evening no trace of its glory on +a sky clear as crystal and on the waters without a ripple. All colour +seemed to have gone out of the world. The oncoming shadow rose as subtle +as a perfume from the black coast lying athwart the eastern semicircle; +and such was the silence within the horizon that one might have fancied +oneself come to the end of time. Black and toylike in the clear depths +and the final stillness of the evening the brig and the schooner lay +anchored in the middle of the main channel with their heads swung the +same way. Lingard, with his chin on his breast and his arms folded, +moved slowly here and there about the poop. Close and mute like his +shadow, Carter, at his elbow, followed his movements. He felt an anxious +solicitude. . . . + +It was a sentiment perfectly new to him. He had never before felt this +sort of solicitude about himself or any other man. His personality was +being developed by new experience, and as he was very simple he received +the initiation with shyness and self-mistrust. He had noticed with +innocent alarm that Lingard had not looked either at the sky or over +the sea, neither at his own ship nor the schooner astern; not along the +decks, not aloft, not anywhere. He had looked at nothing! And somehow +Carter felt himself more lonely and without support than when he had +been left alone by that man in charge of two ships entangled amongst the +Shallows and environed by some sinister mystery. Since that man had come +back, instead of welcome relief Carter felt his responsibility rest on +his young shoulders with tenfold weight. His profound conviction was +that Lingard should be roused. + +"Captain Lingard," he burst out in desperation; "you can't say I have +worried you very much since this morning when I received you at the +side, but I must be told something. What is it going to be with us? +Fight or run?" + +Lingard stopped short and now there was no doubt in Carter's mind that +the Captain was looking at him. There was no room for any doubt before +that stern and enquiring gaze. "Aha!" thought Carter. "This has +startled him"; and feeling that his shyness had departed he pursued his +advantage. "For the fact of the matter is, sir, that, whatever happens, +unless I am to be your man you will have no officer. I had better tell +you at once that I have bundled that respectable, crazy, fat Shaw out of +the ship. He was upsetting all hands. Yesterday I told him to go and get +his dunnage together because I was going to send him aboard the yacht. +He couldn't have made more uproar about it if I had proposed to chuck +him overboard. I warned him that if he didn't go quietly I would have +him tied up like a sheep ready for slaughter. However, he went down the +ladder on his own feet, shaking his fist at me and promising to have me +hanged for a pirate some day. He can do no harm on board the yacht. And +now, sir, it's for you to give orders and not for me--thank God!" + +Lingard turned away, abruptly. Carter didn't budge. After a moment he +heard himself called from the other side of the deck and obeyed with +alacrity. + +"What's that story of a man you picked up on the coast last evening?" +asked Lingard in his gentlest tone. "Didn't you tell me something about +it when I came on board?" + +"I tried to," said Carter, frankly. "But I soon gave it up. You didn't +seem to pay any attention to what I was saying. I thought you wanted to +be left alone for a bit. What can I know of your ways, yet, sir? Are you +aware, Captain Lingard, that since this morning I have been down five +times at the cabin door to look at you? There you sat. . . ." + +He paused and Lingard said: "You have been five times down in the +cabin?" + +"Yes. And the sixth time I made up my mind to make you take some notice +of me. I can't be left without orders. There are two ships to look +after, a lot of things to be done. . . ." + +"There is nothing to be done," Lingard interrupted with a mere murmur +but in a tone which made Carter keep silent for a while. + +"Even to know that much would have been something to go by," he ventured +at last. "I couldn't let you sit there with the sun getting pretty low +and a long night before us." + +"I feel stunned yet," said Lingard, looking Carter straight in the face, +as if to watch the effect of that confession. + +"Were you very near that explosion?" asked the young man with +sympathetic curiosity and seeking for some sign on Lingard's person. +But there was nothing. Not a single hair of the Captain's head seemed to +have been singed. + +"Near," muttered Lingard. "It might have been my head." He pressed it +with both hands, then let them fall. "What about that man?" he asked, +brusquely. "Where did he come from? . . . I suppose he is dead now," he +added in an envious tone. + +"No, sir. He must have as many lives as a cat," answered Carter. "I will +tell you how it was. As I said before I wasn't going to give you up, +dead or alive, so yesterday when the sun went down a little in the +afternoon I had two of our boats manned and pulled in shore, taking +soundings to find a passage if there was one. I meant to go back and +look for you with the brig or without the brig--but that doesn't +matter now. There were three or four floating logs in sight. One of the +Calashes in my boat made out something red on one of them. I thought it +was worth while to go and see what it was. It was that man's sarong. It +had got entangled among the branches and prevented him rolling off into +the water. I was never so glad, I assure you, as when we found out +that he was still breathing. If we could only nurse him back to life, I +thought, he could perhaps tell me a lot of things. The log on which he +hung had come out of the mouth of the creek and he couldn't have been +more than half a day on it by my calculation. I had him taken down the +main hatchway and put into a hammock in the 'tween-decks. He only just +breathed then, but some time during the night he came to himself and +got out of the hammock to lie down on a mat. I suppose he was more +comfortable that way. He recovered his speech only this morning and I +went down at once and told you of it, but you took no notice. I told you +also who he was but I don't know whether you heard me or not." + +"I don't remember," said Lingard under his breath. + +"They are wonderful, those Malays. This morning he was only half alive, +if that much, and now I understand he has been talking to Wasub for an +hour. Will you go down to see him, sir, or shall I send a couple of men +to carry him on deck?" + +Lingard looked bewildered for a moment. + +"Who on earth is he?" he asked. + +"Why, it's that fellow whom you sent out, that night I met you, to catch +our first gig. What do they call him? Jaffir, I think. Hasn't he been +with you ashore, sir? Didn't he find you with the letter I gave him for +you? A most determined looking chap. I knew him again the moment we got +him off the log." + +Lingard seized hold of the royal backstay within reach of his hand. +Jaffir! Jaffir! Faithful above all others; the messenger of supreme +moments; the reckless and devoted servant! Lingard felt a crushing sense +of despair. "No, I can't face this," he whispered to himself, looking +at the coast black as ink now before his eyes in the world's shadow that +was slowly encompassing the grey clearness of the Shallow Waters. "Send +Wasub to me. I am going down into the cabin." + +He crossed over to the companion, then checking himself suddenly: "Was +there a boat from the yacht during the day?" he asked as if struck by +a sudden thought.--"No, sir," answered Carter. "We had no communication +with the yacht to-day."--"Send Wasub to me," repeated Lingard in a stern +voice as he went down the stairs. + +The old serang coming in noiselessly saw his Captain as he had seen him +many times before, sitting under the gilt thunderbolts, apparently as +strong in his body, in his wealth, and in his knowledge of secret words +that have a power over men and elements, as ever. The old Malay squatted +down within a couple of feet from Lingard, leaned his back against +the satinwood panel of the bulkhead, then raising his old eyes with a +watchful and benevolent expression to the white man's face, clasped his +hands between his knees. + +"Wasub, you have learned now everything. Is there no one left alive but +Jaffir? Are they all dead?" + +"May you live!" answered Wasub; and Lingard whispered an appalled "All +dead!" to which Wasub nodded slightly twice. His cracked voice had a +lamenting intonation. "It is all true! It is all true! You are left +alone, Tuan; you are left alone!" + +"It was their destiny," said Lingard at last, with forced calmness. "But +has Jaffir told you of the manner of this calamity? How is it that he +alone came out alive from it to be found by you?" + +"He was told by his lord to depart and he obeyed," began Wasub, fixing +his eyes on the deck and speaking just loud enough to be heard by +Lingard, who, bending forward in his seat, shrank inwardly from every +word and yet would not have missed a single one of them for anything. + +For the catastrophe had fallen on his head like a bolt from the blue in +the early morning hours of the day before. At the first break of dawn he +had been sent for to resume, his talk with Belarab. He had felt +suddenly Mrs. Travers remove her hand from his head. Her voice speaking +intimately into his ear: "Get up. There are some people coming," had +recalled him to himself. He had got up from the ground. The light was +dim, the air full of mist; and it was only gradually that he began to +make out forms above his head and about his feet: trees, houses, men +sleeping on the ground. He didn't recognize them. It was but a cruel +change of dream. Who could tell what was real in this world? He looked +about him, dazedly; he was still drunk with the deep draught of oblivion +he had conquered for himself. Yes--but it was she who had let him snatch +the cup. He looked down at the woman on the bench. She moved not. She +had remained like that, still for hours, giving him a waking dream +of rest without end, in an infinity of happiness without sound and +movement, without thought, without joy; but with an infinite ease of +content, like a world-embracing reverie breathing the air of sadness and +scented with love. For hours she had not moved. + +"You are the most generous of women," he said. He bent over her. Her +eyes were wide open. Her lips felt cold. It did not shock him. After he +stood up he remained near her. Heat is a consuming thing, but she with +her cold lips seemed to him indestructible--and, perhaps, immortal! + +Again he stooped, but this time it was only to kiss the fringe of her +head scarf. Then he turned away to meet the three men, who, coming round +the corner of the hut containing the prisoners, were approaching him +with measured steps. They desired his presence in the Council room. +Belarab was awake. + +They also expressed their satisfaction at finding the white man awake, +because Belarab wanted to impart to him information of the greatest +importance. It seemed to Lingard that he had been awake ever since he +could remember. It was as to being alive that he felt not so sure. +He had no doubt of his existence; but was this life--this profound +indifference, this strange contempt for what his eyes could see, this +distaste for words, this unbelief in the importance of things and men? +He tried to regain possession of himself, his old self which had things +to do, words to speak as well as to hear. But it was too difficult. He +was seduced away by the tense feeling of existence far superior to +the mere consciousness of life, and which in its immensity of +contradictions, delight, dread, exultation and despair could not be +faced and yet was not to be evaded. There was no peace in it. But who +wanted peace? Surrender was better, the dreadful ease of slack limbs in +the sweep of an enormous tide and in a divine emptiness of mind. If this +was existence then he knew that he existed. And he knew that the +woman existed, too, in the sweep of the tide, without speech, without +movement, without heat! Indestructible--and, perhaps, immortal! + + + +VII + +With the sublime indifference of a man who has had a glimpse through the +open doors of Paradise and is no longer careful of mere life, Lingard +had followed Belarab's anxious messengers. The stockade was waking up +in a subdued resonance of voices. Men were getting up from the ground, +fires were being rekindled. Draped figures flitted in the mist amongst +the buildings; and through the mat wall of a bamboo house Lingard heard +the feeble wailing of a child. A day of mere life was beginning; but in +the Chief's great Council room several wax candles and a couple of cheap +European lamps kept the dawn at bay, while the morning mist which could +not be kept out made a faint reddish halo round every flame. + +Belarab was not only awake, but he even looked like a man who had not +slept for a long time. The creator of the Shore of Refuge, the weary +Ruler of the Settlement, with his scorn of the unrest and folly of men, +was angry with his white friend who was always bringing his desires and +his troubles to his very door. Belarab did not want any one to die but +neither did he want any one in particular to live. What he was concerned +about was to preserve the mystery and the power of his melancholy +hesitations. These delicate things were menaced by Lingard's brusque +movements, by that passionate white man who believed in more than +one God and always seemed to doubt the power of Destiny. Belarab was +profoundly annoyed. He was also genuinely concerned, for he liked +Lingard. He liked him not only for his strength, which protected his +clear-minded scepticism from those dangers that beset all rulers, but he +liked him also for himself. That man of infinite hesitations, born from +a sort of mystic contempt for Allah's creation, yet believed absolutely +both in Lingard's power and in his boldness. Absolutely. And yet, in the +marvellous consistency of his temperament, now that the moment had come, +he dreaded to put both power and fortitude to the test. + +Lingard could not know that some little time before the first break of +dawn one of Belarab's spies in the Settlement had found his way inside +the stockade at a spot remote from the lagoon, and that a very few +moments after Lingard had left the Chief in consequence of Jorgenson's +rockets, Belarab was listening to an amazing tale of Hassim and Immada's +capture and of Tengga's determination, very much strengthened by +that fact, to obtain possession of the Emma, either by force or by +negotiation, or by some crafty subterfuge in which the Rajah and +his sister could be made to play their part. In his mistrust of the +universe, which seemed almost to extend to the will of God himself, +Belarab was very much alarmed, for the material power of Daman's +piratical crowd was at Tengga's command; and who could tell whether this +Wajo Rajah would remain loyal in the circumstances? It was also very +characteristic of him whom the original settlers of the Shore of Refuge +called the Father of Safety, that he did not say anything of this to +Lingard, for he was afraid of rousing Lingard's fierce energy which +would even carry away himself and all his people and put the peace of so +many years to the sudden hazard of a battle. + +Therefore Belarab set himself to persuade Lingard on general +considerations to deliver the white men, who really belonged to Daman, +to that supreme Chief of the Illanuns and by this simple proceeding +detach him completely from Tengga. Why should he, Belarab, go to war +against half the Settlement on their account? It was not necessary, it +was not reasonable. It would be even in a manner a sin to begin a strife +in a community of True Believers. Whereas with an offer like that in his +hand he could send an embassy to Tengga who would see there at once the +downfall of his purposes and the end of his hopes. At once! That moment! +. . . Afterward the question of a ransom could be arranged with Daman in +which he, Belarab, would mediate in the fullness of his recovered power, +without a rival and in the sincerity of his heart. And then, if need be, +he could put forth all his power against the chief of the sea-vagabonds +who would, as a matter of fact, be negotiating under the shadow of the +sword. + +Belarab talked, low-voiced and dignified, with now and then a subtle +intonation, a persuasive inflexion or a half-melancholy smile in the +course of the argument. What encouraged him most was the changed aspect +of his white friend. The fierce power of his personality seemed to have +turned into a dream. Lingard listened, growing gradually inscrutable in +his continued silence, but remaining gentle in a sort of rapt patience +as if lapped in the wings of the Angel of Peace himself. Emboldened by +that transformation, Belarab's counsellors seated on the mats murmured +loudly their assent to the views of the Chief. Through the thickening +white mist of tropical lands, the light of the tropical day filtered +into the hall. One of the wise men got up from the floor and with +prudent fingers began extinguishing the waxlights one by one. He +hesitated to touch the lamps, the flames of which looked yellow and +cold. A puff of the morning breeze entered the great room, faint and +chill. Lingard, facing Belarab in a wooden armchair, with slack +limbs and in the divine emptiness of a mind enchanted by a glimpse of +Paradise, shuddered profoundly. + +A strong voice shouted in the doorway without any ceremony and with a +sort of jeering accent: + +"Tengga's boats are out in the mist." + +Lingard half rose from his seat, Belarab himself could not repress a +start. Lingard's attitude was a listening one, but after a moment +of hesitation he ran out of the hall. The inside of the stockade was +beginning to buzz like a disturbed hive. + +Outside Belarab's house Lingard slowed his pace. The mist still hung. A +great sustained murmur pervaded it and the blurred forms of men were all +moving outward from the centre toward the palisades. Somewhere amongst +the buildings a gong clanged. D'Alcacer's raised voice was heard: + +"What is happening?" + +Lingard was passing then close to the prisoners' house. There was a +group of armed men below the verandah and above their heads he saw Mrs. +Travers by the side of d'Alcacer. The fire by which Lingard had spent +the night was extinguished, its embers scattered, and the bench itself +lay overturned. Mrs. Travers must have run up on the verandah at the +first alarm. She and d'Alcacer up there seemed to dominate the tumult +which was now subsiding. Lingard noticed the scarf across Mrs. Travers' +face. D'Alcacer was bareheaded. He shouted again: + +"What's the matter?" + +"I am going to see," shouted Lingard back. + +He resisted the impulse to join those two, dominate the tumult, let it +roll away from under his feet--the mere life of men, vain like a dream +and interfering with the tremendous sense of his own existence. +He resisted it, he could hardly have told why. Even the sense of +self-preservation had abandoned him. There was a throng of people +pressing close about him yet careful not to get in his way. Surprise, +concern, doubt were depicted on all those faces; but there were some who +observed that the great white man making his way to the lagoon side of +the stockade wore a fixed smile. He asked at large: + +"Can one see any distance over the water?" + +One of Belarab's headmen who was nearest to him answered: + +"The mist has thickened. If you see anything, Tuan, it will be but a +shadow of things." + +The four sides of the stockade had been manned by that time. Lingard, +ascending the banquette, looked out and saw the lagoon shrouded in +white, without as much as a shadow on it, and so still that not even the +sound of water lapping the shore reached his ears. He found himself in +profound accord with this blind and soundless peace. + +"Has anything at all been seen?" he asked incredulously. + +Four men were produced at once who had seen a dark mass of boats moving +in the light of the dawn. Others were sent for. He hardly listened to +them. His thought escaped him and he stood motionless, looking out into +the unstirring mist pervaded by the perfect silence. Presently Belarab +joined him, escorted by three grave, swarthy men, himself dark-faced, +stroking his short grey beard with impenetrable composure. He said to +Lingard, "Your white man doesn't fight," to which Lingard answered, +"There is nothing to fight against. What your people have seen, Belarab, +were indeed but shadows on the water." Belarab murmured, "You ought to +have allowed me to make friends with Daman last night." + +A faint uneasiness was stealing into Lingard's breast. + +A moment later d'Alcacer came up, inconspicuously watched over by two +men with lances, and to his anxious inquiry Lingard said: "I don't think +there is anything going on. Listen how still everything is. The only way +of bringing the matter to a test would be to persuade Belarab to let +his men march out and make an attack on Tengga's stronghold this moment. +Then we would learn something. But I couldn't persuade Belarab to march +out into this fog. Indeed, an expedition like this might end badly. I +myself don't believe that all Tengga's people are on the lagoon. . . . +Where is Mrs. Travers?" + +The question made d'Alcacer start by its abruptness which revealed the +woman's possession of that man's mind. "She is with Don Martin, who is +better but feels very weak. If we are to be given up, he will have to +be carried out to his fate. I can depict to myself the scene. Don Martin +carried shoulder high surrounded by those barbarians with spears, and +Mrs. Travers with myself walking on each side of the stretcher. Mrs. +Travers has declared to me her intention to go out with us." + +"Oh, she has declared her intention," murmured Lingard, absent-mindedly. + +D'Alcacer felt himself completely abandoned by that man. And within +two paces of him he noticed the group of Belarab and his three swarthy +attendants in their white robes, preserving an air of serene detachment. +For the first time since the stranding on the coast d'Alcacer's heart +sank within him. "But perhaps," he went on, "this Moor may not in the +end insist on giving us up to a cruel death, Captain Lingard." + +"He wanted to give you up in the middle of the night, a few hours ago," +said Lingard, without even looking at d'Alcacer who raised his hands +a little and let them fall. Lingard sat down on the breech of a heavy +piece mounted on a naval carriage so as to command the lagoon. He folded +his arms on his breast. D'Alcacer asked, gently: + +"We have been reprieved then?" + +"No," said Lingard. "It's I who was reprieved." + +A long silence followed. Along the whole line of the manned stockade the +whisperings had ceased. The vibrations of the gong had died out, too. +Only the watchers perched in the highest boughs of the big tree made a +slight rustle amongst the leaves. + +"What are you thinking of, Captain Lingard?" d'Alcacer asked in a low +voice. Lingard did not change his position. + +"I am trying to keep it off," he said in the same tone. + +"What? Trying to keep thought off?" + +"Yes." + +"Is this the time for such experiments?" asked d'Alcacer. + +"Why not? It's my reprieve. Don't grudge it to me, Mr. d'Alcacer." + +"Upon my word I don't. But isn't it dangerous?" + +"You will have to take your chance." + +D'Alcacer had a moment of internal struggle. He asked himself whether he +should tell Lingard that Mrs. Travers had come to the stockade with some +sort of message from Jorgenson. He had it on the tip of his tongue +to advise Lingard to go and see Mrs. Travers and ask her point blank +whether she had anything to tell him; but before he could make up +his mind the voices of invisible men high up in the tree were heard +reporting the thinning of the fog. This caused a stir to run along the +four sides of the stockade. + +Lingard felt the draught of air in his face, the motionless mist began +to drive over the palisades and, suddenly, the lagoon came into view +with a great blinding glitter of its wrinkled surface and the faint +sound of its wash rising all along the shore. A multitude of hands went +up to shade the eager eyes, and exclamations of wonder burst out from +many men at the sight of a crowd of canoes of various sizes and kinds +lying close together with the effect as of an enormous raft, a little +way off the side of the Emma. The excited voices rose higher and higher. +There was no doubt about Tengga's being on the lagoon. But what was +Jorgenson about? The Emma lay as if abandoned by her keeper and her +crew, while the mob of mixed boats seemed to be meditating an attack. + +For all his determination to keep thought off to the very last possible +moment, Lingard could not defend himself from a sense of wonder and +fear. What was Jorgenson about? For a moment Lingard expected the side +of the Emma to wreath itself in puffs of smoke, but an age seemed to +elapse without the sound of a shot reaching his ears. + +The boats were afraid to close. They were hanging off, irresolute; but +why did Jorgenson not put an end to their hesitation by a volley or +two of musketry if only over their heads? Through the anguish of his +perplexity Lingard found himself returning to life, to mere life with +its sense of pain and mortality, like a man awakened from a dream by a +stab in the breast. What did this silence of the Emma mean? Could she +have been already carried in the fog? But that was unthinkable. Some +sounds of resistance must have been heard. No, the boats hung off +because they knew with what desperate defence they would meet; and +perhaps Jorgenson knew very well what he was doing by holding his fire +to the very last moment and letting the craven hearts grow cold with +the fear of a murderous discharge that would have to be faced. What was +certain was that this was the time for Belarab to open the great gate +and let his men go out, display his power, sweep through the further end +of the Settlement, destroy Tengga's defences, do away once for all with +the absurd rivalry of that intriguing amateur boat-builder. Lingard +turned eagerly toward Belarab but saw the Chief busy looking across the +lagoon through a long glass resting on the shoulder of a stooping slave. +He was motionless like a carving. Suddenly he let go the long glass +which some ready hands caught as it fell and said to Lingard: + +"No fight." + +"How do you know?" muttered Lingard, astounded. + +"There are three empty sampans alongside the ladder," said Belarab in a +just audible voice. "There is bad talk there." + +"Talk? I don't understand," said Lingard, slowly. + +But Belarab had turned toward his three attendants in white robes, +with shaven polls under skull-caps of plaited grass, with prayer beads +hanging from their wrists, and an air of superior calm on their dark +faces: companions of his desperate days, men of blood once and now +imperturbable in their piety and wisdom of trusted counsellors. + +"This white man is being betrayed," he murmured to them with the +greatest composure. + +D'Alcacer, uncomprehending, watched the scene: the Man of Fate puzzled +and fierce like a disturbed lion, the white-robed Moors, the multitude +of half-naked barbarians, squatting by the guns, standing by the +loopholes in the immobility of an arranged display. He saw Mrs. Travers +on the verandah of the prisoners' house, an anxious figure with a white +scarf over her head. Mr. Travers was no doubt too weak after his fit of +fever to come outside. If it hadn't been for that, all the whites would +have been in sight of each other at the very moment of the catastrophe +which was to give them back to the claims of their life, at the cost +of other lives sent violently out of the world. D'Alcacer heard Lingard +asking loudly for the long glass and saw Belarab make a sign with his +hand, when he felt the earth receive a violent blow from underneath. +While he staggered to it the heavens split over his head with a crash in +the lick of a red tongue of flame; and a sudden dreadful gloom fell all +round the stunned d'Alcacer, who beheld with terror the morning sun, +robbed of its rays, glow dull and brown through the sombre murk which +had taken possession of the universe. The Emma had blown up; and when +the rain of shattered timbers and mangled corpses falling into the +lagoon had ceased, the cloud of smoke hanging motionless under the livid +sun cast its shadow afar on the Shore of Refuge where all strife had +come to an end. + +A great wail of terror ascended from the Settlement and was succeeded +by a profound silence. People could be seen bolting in unreasoning panic +away from the houses and into the fields. On the lagoon the raft of +boats had broken up. Some of them were sinking, others paddling away in +all directions. What was left above water of the Emma had burst into a +clear flame under the shadow of the cloud, the great smoky cloud that +hung solid and unstirring above the tops of the forest, visible for +miles up and down the coast and over the Shallows. + +The first person to recover inside the stockade was Belarab himself. +Mechanically he murmured the exclamation of wonder, "God is great," and +looked at Lingard. But Lingard was not looking at him. The shock of the +explosion had robbed him of speech and movement. He stared at the Emma +blazing in a distant and insignificant flame under the sinister shadow +of the cloud created by Jorgenson's mistrust and contempt for the +life of men. Belarab turned away. His opinion had changed. He regarded +Lingard no longer as a betrayed man but the effect was the same. He was +no longer a man of any importance. What Belarab really wanted now was +to see all the white people clear out of the lagoon as soon as possible. +Presently he ordered the gate to be thrown open and his armed men poured +out to take possession of the Settlement. Later Tengga's houses were +set on fire and Belarab, mounting a fiery pony, issued forth to make a +triumphal progress surrounded by a great crowd of headmen and guards. + +That night the white people left the stockade in a cortege of torch +bearers. Mr. Travers had to be carried down to the beach, where two of +Belarab's war-boats awaited their distinguished passengers. Mrs. Travers +passed through the gate on d'Alcacer's arm. Her face was half veiled. +She moved through the throng of spectators displayed in the torchlight +looking straight before her. Belarab, standing in front of a group of +headmen, pretended not to see the white people as they went by. With +Lingard he shook hands, murmuring the usual formulas of friendship; and +when he heard the great white man say, "You shall never see me again," +he felt immensely relieved. Belarab did not want to see that white man +again, but as he responded to the pressure of Lingard's hand he had a +grave smile. + +"God alone knows the future," he said. + +Lingard walked to the beach by himself, feeling a stranger to all men +and abandoned by the All-Knowing God. By that time the first boat with +Mr. and Mrs. Travers had already got away out of the blood-red light +thrown by the torches upon the water. D'Alcacer and Lingard followed +in the second. Presently the dark shade of the creek, walled in by the +impenetrable forest, closed round them and the splash of the paddles +echoed in the still, damp air. + +"How do you think this awful accident happened?" asked d'Alcacer, who +had been sitting silent by Lingard's side. + +"What is an accident?" said Lingard with a great effort. "Where did you +hear of such a thing? Accident! Don't disturb me, Mr. d'Alcacer. I have +just come back to life and it has closed on me colder and darker than +the grave itself. Let me get used . . . I can't bear the sound of a +human voice yet." + + + +VIII + +And now, stoical in the cold and darkness of his regained life, Lingard +had to listen to the voice of Wasub telling him Jaffir's story. The +old serang's face expressed a profound dejection and there was infinite +sadness in the flowing murmur of his words. + +"Yes, by Allah! They were all there: that tyrannical Tengga, noisy +like a fool; the Rajah Hassim, a ruler without a country; Daman, the +wandering chief, and the three Pangerans of the sea-robbers. They came +on board boldly, for Tuan Jorgenson had given them permission, and their +talk was that you, Tuan, were a willing captive in Belarab's stockade. +They said they had waited all night for a message of peace from you or +from Belarab. But there was nothing, and with the first sign of day they +put out on the lagoon to make friends with Tuan Jorgenson; for, they +said, you, Tuan, were as if you had not been, possessing no more power +than a dead man, the mere slave of these strange white people, and +Belarab's prisoner. Thus Tengga talked. God had taken from him all +wisdom and all fear. And then he must have thought he was safe while +Rajah Hassim and the lady Immada were on board. I tell you they sat +there in the midst of your enemies, captive! The lady Immada, with her +face covered, mourned to herself. The Rajah Hassim made a sign to Jaffir +and Jaffir came to stand by his side and talked to his lord. The main +hatch was open and many of the Illanuns crowded there to look down at +the goods that were inside the ship. They had never seen so much loot in +their lives. Jaffir and his lord could hear plainly Tuan Jorgenson and +Tengga talking together. Tengga discoursed loudly and his words were the +words of a doomed man, for he was asking Tuan Jorgenson to give up the +arms and everything that was on board the Emma to himself and to Daman. +And then, he said, 'We shall fight Belarab and make friends with these +strange white people by behaving generously to them and letting them +sail away unharmed to their own country. We don't want them here. You, +Tuan Jorgenson, are the only white man I care for.' They heard Tuan +Jorgenson say to Tengga: 'Now you have told me everything there is +in your mind you had better go ashore with your friends and return +to-morrow.' And Tengga asked: 'Why! would you fight me to-morrow rather +than live many days in peace with me?' and he laughed and slapped his +thigh. And Tuan Jorgenson answered: + +"'No, I won't fight you. But even a spider will give the fly time to say +its prayers.' + +"Tuan Jorgenson's voice sounded very strange and louder than ever +anybody had heard it before. O Rajah Laut, Jaffir and the white man had +been waiting, too, all night for some sign from you; a shot fired or a +signal-fire, lighted to strengthen their hearts. There had been nothing. +Rajah Hassim, whispering, ordered Jaffir to take the first opportunity +to leap overboard and take to you his message of friendship and +good-bye. Did the Rajah and Jaffir know what was coming? Who can tell? +But what else could they see than calamity for all Wajo men, whatever +Tuan Jorgenson had made up his mind to do? Jaffir prepared to obey his +lord, and yet with so many enemies' boats in the water he did not think +he would ever reach the shore; and as to yourself he was not at all sure +that you were still alive. But he said nothing of this to his Rajah. +Nobody was looking their way. Jaffir pressed his lord's hand to his +breast and waited his opportunity. The fog began to blow away and +presently everything was disclosed to the sight. Jorgenson was on his +feet, he was holding a lighted cigar between his fingers. Tengga was +sitting in front of him on one of the chairs the white people had used. +His followers were pressing round him, with Daman and Sentot, who were +muttering incantations; and even the Pangerans had moved closer to the +hatchway. Jaffir's opportunity had come but he lingered by the side +of his Rajah. In the clear air the sun shone with great force. Tuan +Jorgenson looked once more toward Belarab's stockade, O Rajah Laut! But +there was nothing there, not even a flag displayed that had not been +there before. Jaffir looked that way, too, and as he turned his head he +saw Tuan Jorgenson, in the midst of twenty spear-blades that could in an +instant have been driven into his breast, put the cigar in his mouth and +jump down the hatchway. At that moment Rajah Hassim gave Jaffir a push +toward the side and Jaffir leaped overboard. + +"He was still in the water when all the world was darkened round him as +if the life of the sun had been blown out of it in a crash. A great wave +came along and washed him on shore, while pieces of wood, iron, and the +limbs of torn men were splashing round him in the water. He managed to +crawl out of the mud. Something had hit him while he was swimming and he +thought he would die. But life stirred in him. He had a message for you. +For a long time he went on crawling under the big trees on his hands +and knees, for there is no rest for a messenger till the message is +delivered. At last he found himself on the left bank of the creek. +And still he felt life stir in him. So he started to swim across, for if +you were in this world you were on the other side. While he swam he felt +his strength abandoning him. He managed to scramble on to a drifting log +and lay on it like one who is dead, till we pulled him into one of our +boats." + +Wasub ceased. It seemed to Lingard that it was impossible for mortal +man to suffer more than he suffered in the succeeding moment of silence +crowded by the mute images as of universal destruction. He felt +himself gone to pieces as though the violent expression of Jorgenson's +intolerable mistrust of the life of men had shattered his soul, leaving +his body robbed of all power of resistance and of all fortitude, a prey +forever to infinite remorse and endless regrets. + +"Leave me, Wasub," he said. "They are all dead--but I would sleep." + +Wasub raised his dumb old eyes to the white man's face. + +"Tuan, it is necessary that you should hear Jaffir," he said, patiently. + +"Is he going to die?" asked Lingard in a low, cautious tone as though he +were afraid of the sound of his own voice. + +"Who can tell?" Wasub's voice sounded more patient than ever. "There is +no wound on his body but, O Tuan, he does not wish to live." + +"Abandoned by his God," muttered Lingard to himself. + +Wasub waited a little before he went on, "And, Tuan, he has a message +for you." + +"Of course. Well, I don't want to hear it." + +"It is from those who will never speak to you again," Wasub persevered, +sadly. "It is a great trust. A Rajah's own words. It is difficult for +Jaffir to die. He keeps on muttering about a ring that was for you, and +that he let pass out of his care. It was a great talisman!" + +"Yes. But it did not work this time. And if I go and tell Jaffir why he +will be able to tell his Rajah, O Wasub, since you say that he is going +to die. . . . I wonder where they will meet," he muttered to himself. + +Once more Wasub raised his eyes to Lingard's face. "Paradise is the lot +of all True Believers," he whispered, firm in his simple faith. + +The man who had been undone by a glimpse of Paradise exchanged a +profound look with the old Malay. Then he got up. On his passage to the +main hatchway the commander of the brig met no one on the decks, as if +all mankind had given him up except the old man who preceded him and +that other man dying in the deepening twilight, who was awaiting his +coming. Below, in the light of the hatchway, he saw a young Calash with +a broad yellow face and his wiry hair sticking up in stiff wisps through +the folds of his head-kerchief, holding an earthenware water-jar to the +lips of Jaffir extended on his back on a pile of mats. + +A languid roll of the already glazed eyeballs, a mere stir of black +and white in the gathering dusk showed that the faithful messenger of +princes was aware of the presence of the man who had been so long known +to him and his people as the King of the Sea. Lingard knelt down close +to Jaffir's head, which rolled a little from side to side and then +became still, staring at a beam of the upper deck. Lingard bent his ear +to the dark lips. "Deliver your message" he said in a gentle tone. + +"The Rajah wished to hold your hand once more," whispered Jaffir so +faintly that Lingard had to guess the words rather than hear them. "I +was to tell you," he went on--and stopped suddenly. + +"What were you to tell me?" + +"To forget everything," said Jaffir with a loud effort as if beginning a +long speech. After that he said nothing more till Lingard murmured, "And +the lady Immada?" + +Jaffir collected all his strength. "She hoped no more," he uttered, +distinctly. "The order came to her while she mourned, veiled, apart. I +didn't even see her face." + +Lingard swayed over the dying man so heavily that Wasub, standing near +by, hastened to catch him by the shoulder. Jaffir seemed unaware of +anything, and went on staring at the beam. + +"Can you hear me, O Jaffir?" asked Lingard. + +"I hear." + +"I never had the ring. Who could bring it to me?" + +"We gave it to the white woman--may Jehannum be her lot!" + +"No! It shall be my lot," said Lingard with despairing force, while +Wasub raised both his hands in dismay. "For, listen, Jaffir, if she had +given the ring to me it would have been to one that was dumb, deaf, and +robbed of all courage." + +It was impossible to say whether Jaffir had heard. He made no sound, +there was no change in his awful stare, but his prone body moved under +the cotton sheet as if to get further away from the white man. Lingard +got up slowly and making a sign to Wasub to remain where he was, went up +on deck without giving another glance to the dying man. Again it seemed +to him that he was pacing the quarter-deck of a deserted ship. The +mulatto steward, watching through the crack of the pantry door, saw the +Captain stagger into the cuddy and fling-to the door behind him with +a crash. For more than an hour nobody approached that closed door till +Carter coming down the companion stairs spoke without attempting to open +it. + +"Are you there, sir?" The answer, "You may come in," comforted the young +man by its strong resonance. He went in. + +"Well?" + +"Jaffir is dead. This moment. I thought you would want to know." + +Lingard looked persistently at Carter, thinking that now Jaffir was +dead there was no one left on the empty earth to speak to him a word of +reproach; no one to know the greatness of his intentions, the bond of +fidelity between him and Hassim and Immada, the depth of his affection +for those people, the earnestness of his visions, and the unbounded +trust that was his reward. By the mad scorn of Jorgenson flaming up +against the life of men, all this was as if it had never been. It had +become a secret locked up in his own breast forever. + +"Tell Wasub to open one of the long-cloth bales in the hold, Mr. Carter, +and give the crew a cotton sheet to bury him decently according to their +faith. Let it be done to-night. They must have the boats, too. I suppose +they will want to take him on the sandbank." + +"Yes, sir," said Carter. + +"Let them have what they want, spades, torches. . . . Wasub will chant +the right words. Paradise is the lot of all True Believers. Do you +understand me, Mr. Carter? Paradise! I wonder what it will be for him! +Unless he gets messages to carry through the jungle, avoiding ambushes, +swimming in storms and knowing no rest, he won't like it." + +Carter listened with an unmoved face. It seemed to him that the Captain +had forgotten his presence. + +"And all the time he will be sleeping on that sandbank," Lingard began +again, sitting in his old place under the gilt thunderbolts suspended +over his head with his elbows on the table and his hands to his temples. +"If they want a board to set up at the grave let them have a piece of an +oak plank. It will stay there--till the next monsoon. Perhaps." + +Carter felt uncomfortable before that tense stare which just missed +him and in that confined cabin seemed awful in its piercing and far-off +expression. But as he had not been dismissed he did not like to go away. + +"Everything will be done as you wish it, sir," he said. "I suppose the +yacht will be leaving the first thing to-morrow morning, sir." + +"If she doesn't we must give her a solid shot or two to liven her +up--eh, Mr. Carter?" + +Carter did not know whether to smile or to look horrified. In the end he +did both, but as to saying anything he found it impossible. But Lingard +did not expect an answer. + +"I believe you are going to stay with me, Mr. Carter?" + +"I told you, sir, I am your man if you want me." + +"The trouble is, Mr. Carter, that I am no longer the man to whom you +spoke that night in Carimata." + +"Neither am I, sir, in a manner of speaking." + +Lingard, relaxing the tenseness of his stare, looked at the young man, +thoughtfully. + +"After all, it is the brig that will want you. She will never change. +The finest craft afloat in these seas. She will carry me about as she +did before, but . . ." + +He unclasped his hands, made a sweeping gesture. + +Carter gave all his naive sympathy to that man who had certainly rescued +the white people but seemed to have lost his own soul in the attempt. +Carter had heard something from Wasub. He had made out enough of this +story from the old serang's pidgin English to know that the Captain's +native friends, one of them a woman, had perished in a mysterious +catastrophe. But the why of it, and how it came about, remained still +quite incomprehensible to him. Of course, a man like the Captain would +feel terribly cut up. . . . + +"You will be soon yourself again, sir," he said in the kindest possible +tone. + +With the same simplicity Lingard shook his head. He was thinking of the +dead Jaffir with his last message delivered and untroubled now by all +these matters of the earth. He had been ordered to tell him to forget +everything. Lingard had an inward shudder. In the dismay of his heart he +might have believed his brig to lie under the very wing of the Angel of +Desolation--so oppressive, so final, and hopeless seemed the silence in +which he and Carter looked at each other, wistfully. + +Lingard reached for a sheet of paper amongst several lying on the table, +took up a pen, hesitated a moment, and then wrote: + +"Meet me at day-break on the sandbank." + +He addressed the envelope to Mrs. Travers, Yacht Hermit, and pushed it +across the table. + +"Send this on board the schooner at once, Mr. Carter. Wait a moment. +When our boats shove off for the sandbank have the forecastle gun fired. +I want to know when that dead man has left the ship." + +He sat alone, leaning his head on his hand, listening, listening +endlessly, for the report of the gun. Would it never come? When it came +at last muffled, distant, with a slight shock through the body of the +brig he remained still with his head leaning on his hand but with a +distinct conviction, with an almost physical certitude, that under the +cotton sheet shrouding the dead man something of himself, too, had left +the ship. + + + +IX + +In a roomy cabin, furnished and fitted with austere comfort, Mr. Travers +reposed at ease in a low bed-place under a snowy white sheet and a light +silk coverlet, his head sunk in a white pillow of extreme purity. A +faint scent of lavender hung about the fresh linen. Though lying on his +back like a person who is seriously ill Mr. Travers was conscious +of nothing worse than a great fatigue. Mr. Travers' restfulness had +something faintly triumphant in it. To find himself again on board +his yacht had soothed his vanity and had revived his sense of his own +importance. He contemplated it in a distant perspective, restored to its +proper surroundings and unaffected by an adventure too extraordinary to +trouble a superior mind or even to remain in one's memory for any length +of time. He was not responsible. Like many men ambitious of +directing the affairs of a nation, Mr. Travers disliked the sense of +responsibility. He would not have been above evading it in case of need, +but with perverse loftiness he really, in his heart, scorned it. That +was the reason why he was able to lie at rest and enjoy a sense of +returning vigour. But he did not care much to talk as yet, and that was +why the silence in the stateroom had lasted for hours. The bulkhead lamp +had a green silk shade. It was unnecessary to admit for a moment the +existence of impudence or ruffianism. A discreet knocking at the cabin +door sounded deferential. + +Mrs. Travers got up to see what was wanted, and returned without +uttering a single word to the folding armchair by the side of the +bed-place, with an envelope in her hand which she tore open in the +greenish light. Mr. Travers remained incurious but his wife handed to +him an unfolded sheet of paper which he condescended to hold up to his +eyes. It contained only one line of writing. He let the paper fall on +the coverlet and went on reposing as before. It was a sick man's repose. +Mrs. Travers in the armchair, with her hands on the arm-rests, had a +great dignity of attitude. + +"I intend to go," she declared after a time. + +"You intend to go," repeated Mr. Travers in a feeble, deliberate voice. +"Really, it doesn't matter what you decide to do. All this is of so +little importance. It seems to me that there can be no possible object." + +"Perhaps not," she admitted. "But don't you think that the uttermost +farthing should always be paid?" + +Mr. Travers' head rolled over on the pillow and gave a covertly scared +look at that outspoken woman. But it rolled back again at once and the +whole man remained passive, the very embodiment of helpless exhaustion. +Mrs. Travers noticed this, and had the unexpected impression that Mr. +Travers was not so ill as he looked. "He's making the most of it. It's +a matter of diplomacy," she thought. She thought this without irony, +bitterness, or disgust. Only her heart sank a little lower and she felt +that she could not remain in the cabin with that man for the rest of the +evening. For all life--yes! But not for that evening. + +"It's simply monstrous," murmured the man, who was either very +diplomatic or very exhausted, in a languid manner. "There is something +abnormal in you." + +Mrs. Travers got up swiftly. + +"One comes across monstrous things. But I assure you that of all the +monsters that wait on what you would call a normal existence the one I +dread most is tediousness. A merciless monster without teeth or claws. +Impotent. Horrible!" + +She left the stateroom, vanishing out of it with noiseless resolution. +No power on earth could have kept her in there for another minute. On +deck she found a moonless night with a velvety tepid feeling in the air, +and in the sky a mass of blurred starlight, like the tarnished tinsel of +a worn-out, very old, very tedious firmament. The usual routine of the +yacht had been already resumed, the awnings had been stretched aft, a +solitary round lamp had been hung as usual under the main boom. Out of +the deep gloom behind it d'Alcacer, a long, loose figure, lounged in the +dim light across the deck. D'Alcacer had got promptly in touch with +the store of cigarettes he owed to the Governor General's generosity. A +large, pulsating spark glowed, illuminating redly the design of his +lips under the fine dark moustache, the tip of his nose, his lean chin. +D'Alcacer reproached himself for an unwonted light-heartedness which +had somehow taken possession of him. He had not experienced that sort of +feeling for years. Reprehensible as it was he did not want anything to +disturb it. But as he could not run away openly from Mrs. Travers he +advanced to meet her. + +"I do hope you have nothing to tell me," he said with whimsical +earnestness. + +"I? No! Have you?" + +He assured her he had not, and proffered a request. "Don't let us tell +each other anything, Mrs. Travers. Don't let us think of anything. I +believe it will be the best way to get over the evening." There was real +anxiety in his jesting tone. + +"Very well," Mrs. Travers assented, seriously. "But in that case we had +better not remain together." She asked, then, d'Alcacer to go below and +sit with Mr. Travers who didn't like to be left alone. "Though he, too, +doesn't seem to want to be told anything," she added, parenthetically, +and went on: "But I must ask you something else, Mr. d'Alcacer. I +propose to sit down in this chair and go to sleep--if I can. Will you +promise to call me about five o'clock? I prefer not to speak to any one +on deck, and, moreover, I can trust you." + +He bowed in silence and went away slowly. Mrs. Travers, turning her +head, perceived a steady light at the brig's yard-arm, very bright among +the tarnished stars. She walked aft and looked over the taffrail. It was +exactly like that other night. She half expected to hear presently the +low, rippling sound of an advancing boat. But the universe remained +without a sound. When she at last dropped into the deck chair she was +absolutely at the end of her power of thinking. "I suppose that's +how the condemned manage to get some sleep on the night before the +execution," she said to herself a moment before her eyelids closed as if +under a leaden hand. + +She woke up, with her face wet with tears, out of a vivid dream of +Lingard in chain-mail armour and vaguely recalling a Crusader, but +bare-headed and walking away from her in the depths of an impossible +landscape. She hurried on to catch up with him but a throng of +barbarians with enormous turbans came between them at the last moment +and she lost sight of him forever in the flurry of a ghastly sand-storm. +What frightened her most was that she had not been able to see his face. +It was then that she began to cry over her hard fate. When she woke up +the tears were still rolling down her cheeks and she perceived in the +light of the deck-lamp d'Alcacer arrested a little way off. + +"Did you have to speak to me?" she asked. + +"No," said d'Alcacer. "You didn't give me time. When I came as far as +this I fancied I heard you sobbing. It must have been a delusion." + +"Oh, no. My face is wet yet. It was a dream. I suppose it is five +o'clock. Thank you for being so punctual. I have something to do before +sunrise." + +D'Alcacer moved nearer. "I know. You have decided to keep an appointment +on the sandbank. Your husband didn't utter twenty words in all these +hours but he managed to tell me that piece of news." + +"I shouldn't have thought," she murmured, vaguely. + +"He wanted me to understand that it had no importance," stated d'Alcacer +in a very serious tone. + +"Yes. He knows what he is talking about," said Mrs. Travers in such +a bitter tone as to disconcert d'Alcacer for a moment. "I don't see a +single soul about the decks," Mrs. Travers continued, almost directly. + +"The very watchmen are asleep," said d'Alcacer. + +"There is nothing secret in this expedition, but I prefer not to call +any one. Perhaps you wouldn't mind pulling me off yourself in our small +boat." + +It seemed to her that d'Alcacer showed some hesitation. She added: "It +has no importance, you know." + +He bowed his assent and preceded her down the side in silence. When she +entered the boat he had the sculls ready and directly she sat down he +shoved off. It was so dark yet that but for the brig's yard-arm light he +could not have kept his direction. He pulled a very deliberate stroke, +looking over his shoulder frequently. It was Mrs. Travers who saw first +the faint gleam of the uncovered sandspit on the black, quiet water. + +"A little more to the left," she said. "No, the other way. . . ." +D'Alcacer obeyed her directions but his stroke grew even slower than +before. She spoke again. "Don't you think that the uttermost farthing +should always be paid, Mr. d'Alcacer?" + +D'Alcacer glanced over his shoulder, then: "It would be the only +honourable way. But it may be hard. Too hard for our common fearful +hearts." + +"I am prepared for anything." + +He ceased pulling for a moment . . . "Anything that may be found on +a sandbank," Mrs. Travers went on. "On an arid, insignificant, and +deserted sandbank." + +D'Alcacer gave two strokes and ceased again. + +"There is room for a whole world of suffering on a sandbank, for all the +bitterness and resentment a human soul may be made to feel." + +"Yes, I suppose you would know," she whispered while he gave a stroke or +two and again glanced over his shoulder. She murmured the words: + +"Bitterness, resentment," and a moment afterward became aware of the +keel of the boat running up on the sand. But she didn't move, and +d'Alcacer, too, remained seated on the thwart with the blades of his +sculls raised as if ready to drop them and back the dinghy out into deep +water at the first sign. + +Mrs. Travers made no sign, but she asked, abruptly: "Mr. d'Alcacer, do +you think I shall ever come back?" + +Her tone seemed to him to lack sincerity. But who could tell what +this abruptness covered--sincere fear or mere vanity? He asked himself +whether she was playing a part for his benefit, or only for herself. + +"I don't think you quite understand the situation, Mrs. Travers. I +don't think you have a clear idea, either of his simplicity or of his +visionary's pride." + +She thought, contemptuously, that there were other things which +d'Alcacer didn't know and surrendered to a sudden temptation to +enlighten him a little. + +"You forget his capacity for passion and that his simplicity doesn't +know its own strength." + +There was no mistaking the sincerity of that murmur. "She has felt it," +d'Alcacer said to himself with absolute certitude. He wondered when, +where, how, on what occasion? Mrs. Travers stood up in the stern sheets +suddenly and d'Alcacer leaped on the sand to help her out of the boat. + +"Hadn't I better hang about here to take you back again?" he suggested, +as he let go her hand. + +"You mustn't!" she exclaimed, anxiously. "You must return to the yacht. +There will be plenty of light in another hour. I will come to this spot +and wave my handkerchief when I want to be taken off." + +At their feet the shallow water slept profoundly, the ghostly gleam of +the sands baffled the eye by its lack of form. Far off, the growth of +bushes in the centre raised a massive black bulk against the stars to +the southward. Mrs. Travers lingered for a moment near the boat as if +afraid of the strange solitude of this lonely sandbank and of this lone +sea that seemed to fill the whole encircling universe of remote stars +and limitless shadows. "There is nobody here," she whispered to herself. + +"He is somewhere about waiting for you, or I don't know the man," +affirmed d'Alcacer in an undertone. He gave a vigorous shove which sent +the little boat into the water. + +D'Alcacer was perfectly right. Lingard had come up on deck long before +Mrs. Travers woke up with her face wet with tears. The burial party had +returned hours before and the crew of the brig were plunged in +sleep, except for two watchmen, who at Lingard's appearance retreated +noiselessly from the poop. Lingard, leaning on the rail, fell into +a sombre reverie of his past. Reproachful spectres crowded the air, +animated and vocal, not in the articulate language of mortals but +assailing him with faint sobs, deep sighs, and fateful gestures. When he +came to himself and turned about they vanished, all but one dark shape +without sound or movement. Lingard looked at it with secret horror. + +"Who's that?" he asked in a troubled voice. + +The shadow moved closer: "It's only me, sir," said Carter, who had left +orders to be called directly the Captain was seen on deck. + +"Oh, yes, I might have known," mumbled Lingard in some confusion. He +requested Carter to have a boat manned and when after a time the young +man told him that it was ready, he said "All right!" and remained +leaning on his elbow. + +"I beg your pardon, sir," said Carter after a longish silence, "but are +you going some distance?" + +"No, I only want to be put ashore on the sandbank." + +Carter was relieved to hear this, but also surprised. "There is nothing +living there, sir," he said. + +"I wonder," muttered Lingard. + +"But I am certain," Carter insisted. "The last of the women and children +belonging to those cut-throats were taken off by the sampans which +brought you and the yacht-party out." + +He walked at Lingard's elbow to the gangway and listened to his orders. + +"Directly there is enough light to see flags by, make a signal to the +schooner to heave short on her cable and loose her sails. If there +is any hanging back give them a blank gun, Mr. Carter. I will have no +shilly-shallying. If she doesn't go at the word, by heavens, I will +drive her out. I am still master here--for another day." + +The overwhelming sense of immensity, of disturbing emptiness, which +affects those who walk on the sands in the midst of the sea, intimidated +Mrs. Travers. The world resembled a limitless flat shadow which was +motionless and elusive. Then against the southern stars she saw a human +form that isolated and lone appeared to her immense: the shape of a +giant outlined amongst the constellations. As it approached her +it shrank to common proportions, got clear of the stars, lost its +awesomeness, and became menacing in its ominous and silent advance. Mrs. +Travers hastened to speak. + +"You have asked for me. I am come. I trust you will have no reason to +regret my obedience." + +He walked up quite close to her, bent down slightly to peer into her +face. The first of the tropical dawn put its characteristic cold sheen +into the sky above the Shore of Refuge. + +Mrs. Travers did not turn away her head. + +"Are you looking for a change in me? No. You won't see it. Now I know +that I couldn't change even if I wanted to. I am made of clay that is +too hard." + +"I am looking at you for the first time," said Lingard. "I never could +see you before. There were too many things, too many thoughts, too many +people. No, I never saw you before. But now the world is dead." + +He grasped her shoulders, approaching his face close to hers. She never +flinched. + +"Yes, the world is dead," she said. "Look your fill then. It won't be +for long." + +He let her go as suddenly as though she had struck him. The cold white +light of the tropical dawn had crept past the zenith now and the expanse +of the shallow waters looked cold, too, without stir or ripple within +the enormous rim of the horizon where, to the west, a shadow lingered +still. + +"Take my arm," he said. + +She did so at once, and turning their backs on the two ships they began +to walk along the sands, but they had not made many steps when Mrs. +Travers perceived an oblong mound with a board planted upright at one +end. Mrs. Travers knew that part of the sands. It was here she used to +walk with her husband and d'Alcacer every evening after dinner, +while the yacht lay stranded and her boats were away in search of +assistance--which they had found--which they had found! This was +something that she had never seen there before. Lingard had suddenly +stopped and looked at it moodily. She pressed his arm to rouse him and +asked, "What is this?" + +"This is a grave," said Lingard in a low voice, and still gazing at the +heap of sand. "I had him taken out of the ship last night. Strange," he +went on in a musing tone, "how much a grave big enough for one man only +can hold. His message was to forget everything." + +"Never, never," murmured Mrs. Travers. "I wish I had been on board the +Emma. . . . You had a madman there," she cried out, suddenly. They moved +on again, Lingard looking at Mrs. Travers who was leaning on his arm. + +"I wonder which of us two was mad," he said. + +"I wonder you can bear to look at me," she murmured. Then Lingard spoke +again. + +"I had to see you once more." + +"That abominable Jorgenson," she whispered to herself. + +"No, no, he gave me my chance--before he gave me up." + +Mrs. Travers disengaged her arm and Lingard stopped, too, facing her in +a long silence. + +"I could not refuse to meet you," said Mrs. Travers at last. "I could +not refuse you anything. You have all the right on your side and I don't +care what you do or say. But I wonder at my own courage when I think of +the confession I have to make." She advanced, laid her hand on Lingard's +shoulder and spoke earnestly. "I shuddered at the thought of meeting you +again. And now you must listen to my confession." + +"Don't say a word," said Lingard in an untroubled voice and never taking +his eyes from her face. "I know already." + +"You can't," she cried. Her hand slipped off his shoulder. "Then why +don't you throw me into the sea?" she asked, passionately. "Am I to live +on hating myself?" + +"You mustn't!" he said with an accent of fear. "Haven't you understood +long ago that if you had given me that ring it would have been just the +same?" + +"Am I to believe this? No, no! You are too generous to a mere sham. You +are the most magnanimous of men but you are throwing it away on me. +Do you think it is remorse that I feel? No. If it is anything it is +despair. But you must have known that--and yet you wanted to look at me +again." + +"I told you I never had a chance before," said Lingard in an unmoved +voice. "It was only after I heard they gave you the ring that I felt the +hold you have got on me. How could I tell before? What has hate or love +to do with you and me? Hate. Love. What can touch you? For me you stand +above death itself; for I see now that as long as I live you will never +die." + +They confronted each other at the southern edge of the sands as if +afloat on the open sea. The central ridge heaped up by the winds masked +from them the very mastheads of the two ships and the growing brightness +of the light only augmented the sense of their invincible solitude +in the awful serenity of the world. Mrs. Travers suddenly put her arm +across her eyes and averted her face. + +Then he added: + +"That's all." + +Mrs. Travers let fall her arm and began to retrace her steps, +unsupported and alone. Lingard followed her on the edge of the sand +uncovered by the ebbing tide. A belt of orange light appeared in the +cold sky above the black forest of the Shore of Refuge and faded quickly +to gold that melted soon into a blinding and colourless glare. It was +not till after she had passed Jaffir's grave that Mrs. Travers stole a +backward glance and discovered that she was alone. Lingard had left her +to herself. She saw him sitting near the mound of sand, his back bowed, +his hands clasping his knees, as if he had obeyed the invincible call of +his great visions haunting the grave of the faithful messenger. Shading +her eyes with her hand Mrs. Travers watched the immobility of that man +of infinite illusions. He never moved, he never raised his head. It was +all over. He was done with her. She waited a little longer and then went +slowly on her way. + +Shaw, now acting second mate of the yacht, came off with another hand +in a little boat to take Mrs. Travers on board. He stared at her like an +offended owl. How the lady could suddenly appear at sunrise waving her +handkerchief from the sandbank he could not understand. For, even if she +had managed to row herself off secretly in the dark, she could not have +sent the empty boat back to the yacht. It was to Shaw a sort of improper +miracle. + +D'Alcacer hurried to the top of the side ladder and as they met on deck +Mrs. Travers astonished him by saying in a strangely provoking tone: + +"You were right. I have come back." Then with a little laugh which +impressed d'Alcacer painfully she added with a nod downward, "and +Martin, too, was perfectly right. It was absolutely unimportant." + +She walked on straight to the taffrail and d'Alcacer followed her aft, +alarmed at her white face, at her brusque movements, at the nervous way +in which she was fumbling at her throat. He waited discreetly till she +turned round and thrust out toward him her open palm on which he saw a +thick gold ring set with a large green stone. + +"Look at this, Mr. d'Alcacer. This is the thing which I asked you +whether I should give up or conceal--the symbol of the last hour--the +call of the supreme minute. And he said it would have made no +difference! He is the most magnanimous of men and the uttermost farthing +has been paid. He has done with me. The most magnanimous . . . but there +is a grave on the sands by which I left him sitting with no glance +to spare for me. His last glance on earth! I am left with this thing. +Absolutely unimportant. A dead talisman." With a nervous jerk she flung +the ring overboard, then with a hurried entreaty to d'Alcacer, "Stay +here a moment. Don't let anybody come near us," she burst into tears and +turned her back on him. + +Lingard returned on board his brig and in the early afternoon the +Lightning got under way, running past the schooner to give her a lead +through the maze of Shoals. Lingard was on deck but never looked once +at the following vessel. Directly both ships were in clear water he went +below saying to Carter: "You know what to do." + +"Yes, sir," said Carter. + +Shortly after his Captain had disappeared from the deck Carter laid the +main topsail to the mast. The Lightning lost her way while the schooner +with all her light kites abroad passed close under her stern holding on +her course. Mrs. Travers stood aft very rigid, gripping the rail with +both hands. The brim of her white hat was blown upward on one side and +her yachting skirt stirred in the breeze. By her side d'Alcacer waved +his hand courteously. Carter raised his cap to them. + +During the afternoon he paced the poop with measured steps, with a pair +of binoculars in his hand. At last he laid the glasses down, glanced at +the compass-card and walked to the cabin skylight which was open. + +"Just lost her, sir," he said. All was still down there. He raised his +voice a little: + +"You told me to let you know directly I lost sight of the yacht." + +The sound of a stifled groan reached the attentive Carter and a weary +voice said, "All right, I am coming." + +When Lingard stepped out on the poop of the Lightning the open water +had turned purple already in the evening light, while to the east the +Shallows made a steely glitter all along the sombre line of the shore. +Lingard, with folded arms, looked over the sea. Carter approached him +and spoke quietly. + +"The tide has turned and the night is coming on. Hadn't we better get +away from these Shoals, sir?" + +Lingard did not stir. + +"Yes, the night is coming on. You may fill the main topsail, Mr. +Carter," he said and he relapsed into silence with his eyes fixed in +the southern board where the shadows were creeping stealthily toward the +setting sun. Presently Carter stood at his elbow again. + +"The brig is beginning to forge ahead, sir," he said in a warning tone. + +Lingard came out of his absorption with a deep tremor of his powerful +frame like the shudder of an uprooted tree. + +"How was the yacht heading when you lost sight of her?" he asked. + +"South as near as possible," answered Carter. "Will you give me a course +to steer for the night, sir?" + +Lingard's lips trembled before he spoke but his voice was calm. + +"Steer north," he said. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rescue, by Joseph Conrad + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RESCUE *** + +***** This file should be named 1712.txt or 1712.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/1/1712/ + +Produced by Judy Boss and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This etext was prepared by Judy Boss, Omaha, NE + + + + + +THE RESCUE + +A ROMANCE OF THE SHALLOWS + +BY +JOSEPH CONRAD + + +'Allas!' quod she, 'that ever this sholde happe! +For wende I never, by possibilitee, +That swich a monstre or merveille mighte be!' + --THE FRANKELEYN'S TALE + + +TO +FREDERIC COURTLAND PENFIELD +LAST AMBASSADOR OF THE UNITED STATES OF +AMERICA TO THE LATE AUSTRIAN EMPIRE, THIS +OLD TIME TALE IS GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED +IN MEMORY OF THE RESCUE OF CERTAIN +DISTRESSED TRAVELLERS EFFECTED BY HIM +IN THE WORLD'S GREAT STORM OF THE YEAR 1914 + + + + +AUTHOR'S NOTE + +Of the three long novels of mine which suffered an interruption, +"The Rescue" was the one that had to wait the longest for the +good pleasure of the Fates. I am betraying no secret when I state +here that it had to wait precisely for twenty years. I laid it +aside at the end of the summer of 1898 and it was about the end +of the summer of 1918 that I took it up again with the firm +determination to see the end of it and helped by the sudden +feeling that I might be equal to the task. + +This does not mean that I turned to it with elation. I was well +aware and perhaps even too much aware of the dangers of such an +adventure. The amazingly sympathetic kindness which men of +various temperaments, diverse views and different literary tastes +have been for years displaying towards my work has done much for +me, has done all--except giving me that over-weening +self-confidence which may assist an adventurer sometimes but in +the long run ends by leading him to the gallows. + +As the characteristic I want most to impress upon these short +Author's Notes prepared for my first Collected Edition is that of +absolute frankness, I hasten to declare that I founded my hopes +not on my supposed merits but on the continued goodwill of my +readers. I may say at once that my hopes have been justified out +of all proportion to my deserts. I met with the most considerate, +most delicately expressed criticism free from all antagonism and +in its conclusions showing an insight which in itself could not +fail to move me deeply, but was associated also with enough +commendation to make me feel rich beyond the dreams of avarice--I +mean an artist's avarice which seeks its treasure in the hearts +of men and women. + +No! Whatever the preliminary anxieties might have been this +adventure was not to end in sorrow. Once more Fortune favoured +audacity; and yet I have never forgotten the jocular translation +of Audaces fortuna juvat offered to me by my tutor when I was a +small boy: "The Audacious get bitten." However he took care to +mention that there were various kinds of audacity. Oh, there are, +there are! . . . There is, for instance, the kind of audacity +almost indistinguishable from impudence. . . . I must believe +that in this case I have not been impudent for I am not conscious +of having been bitten. + +The truth is that when "The Rescue" was laid aside it was not +laid aside in despair. Several reasons contributed to this +abandonment and, no doubt, the first of them was the growing +sense of general difficulty in the handling of the subject. The +contents and the course of the story I had clearly in my mind. +But as to the way of presenting the facts, and perhaps in a +certain measure as to the nature of the facts themselves, I had +many doubts. I mean the telling, representative facts, helpful to +carry on the idea, and, at the same time, of such a nature as not +to demand an elaborate creation of the atmosphere to the +detriment of the action. I did not see how I could avoid becoming +wearisome in the presentation of detail and in the pursuit of +clearness. I saw the action plainly enough. What I had lost for +the moment was the sense of the proper formula of expression, the +only formula that would suit. This, of course, weakened my +confidence in the intrinsic worth and in the possible interest of +the story--that is in my invention. But I suspect that all the +trouble was, in reality, the doubt of my prose, the doubt of its +adequacy, of its power to master both the colours and the shades. + +It is difficult to describe, exactly as I remember it, the +complex state of my feelings; but those of my readers who take an +interest in artistic perplexities will understand me best when I +point out that I dropped "The Rescue" not to give myself up to +idleness, regrets, or dreaming, but to begin "The Nigger of the +'Narcissus'" and to go on with it without hesitation and without +a pause. A comparison of any page of "The Rescue" with any page +of "The Nigger" will furnish an ocular demonstration of the +nature and the inward meaning of this first crisis of my writing +life. For it was a crisis undoubtedly. The laying aside of a work +so far advanced was a very awful decision to take. It was wrung +from me by a sudden conviction that THERE only was the road of +salvation, the clear way out for an uneasy conscience. The +finishing of "The Nigger" brought to my troubled mind the +comforting sense of an accomplished task, and the first +consciousness of a certain sort of mastery which could accomplish +something with the aid of propitious stars. Why I did not return +to "The Rescue" at once then, was not for the reason that I had +grown afraid of it. Being able now to assume a firm attitude I +said to myself deliberately: "That thing can wait." At the same +time I was just as certain in my mind that "Youth," a story which +I had then, so to speak, on the tip of my pen, could NOT wait. +Neither could "Heart of Darkness" be put off; for the practical +reason that Mr. Wm. Blackwood having requested me to write +something for the No. M of his magazine I had to stir up at once +the subject of that tale which had been long lying quiescent in +my mind, because, obviously, the venerable Maga at her +patriarchal age of 1000 numbers could not be kept waiting. Then +"Lord Jim," with about seventeen pages already written at odd +times, put in his claim which was irresistible. Thus every stroke +of the pen was taking me further away from the abandoned +"Rescue," not without some compunction on my part but with a +gradually diminishing resistance; till at last I let myself go as +if recognising a superior influence against which it was useless +to contend. + +The years passed and the pages grew in number, and the long +reveries of which they were the outcome stretched wide between me +and the deserted "Rescue" like the smooth hazy spaces of a dreamy +sea. Yet I never actually lost sight of that dark speck in the +misty distance. It had grown very small but it asserted itself +with the appeal of old associations. It seemed to me that it +would be a base thing for me to slip out of the world leaving it +out there all alone, waiting for its fate--that would never come? + +Sentiment, pure sentiment as you see, prompted me in the last +instance to face the pains and hazards of that return. As I moved +slowly towards the abandoned body of the tale it loomed up big +amongst the glittering shallows of the coast, lonely but not +forbidding. There was nothing about it of a grim derelict. It had +an air of expectant life. One after another I made out the +familiar faces watching my approach with faint smiles of amused +recognition. They had known well enough that I was bound to come +back to them. But their eyes met mine seriously as was only to be +expected since I, myself, felt very serious as I stood amongst +them again after years of absence. At once, without wasting +words, we went to work together on our renewed life; and every +moment I felt more strongly that They Who had Waited bore no +grudge to the man who however widely he may have wandered at +times had played truant only once in his life. + +1920. J. C. + + + + +CONTENTS + +PART I. THE MAN AND THE BRIG + +PART II. THE SHORE OF REFUGE + +PART III. THE CAPTURE + +PART IV. THE GIFT OF THE SHALLOWS + +PART V. THE POINT OF HONOUR AND THE POINT OF PASSION + +PART VI. THE CLAIM OF LIFE AND THE TOLL OF DEATH + + + + +PART I. THE MAN AND THE BRIG + +The shallow sea that foams and murmurs on the shores of the +thousand islands, big and little, which make up the Malay +Archipelago has been for centuries the scene of adventurous +undertakings. The vices and the virtues of four nations have been +displayed in the conquest of that region that even to this day +has not been robbed of all the mystery and romance of its +past--and the race of men who had fought against the Portuguese, +the Spaniards, the Dutch and the English, has not been changed by +the unavoidable defeat. They have kept to this day their love of +liberty, their fanatical devotion to their chiefs, their blind +fidelity in friendship and hate--all their lawful and unlawful +instincts. Their country of land and water--for the sea was as +much their country as the earth of their islands--has fallen a +prey to the western race--the reward of superior strength if not +of superior virtue. To-morrow the advancing civilization will +obliterate the marks of a long struggle in the accomplishment of +its inevitable victory. + +The adventurers who began that struggle have left no descendants. +The ideas of the world changed too quickly for that. But even far +into the present century they have had successors. Almost in our +own day we have seen one of them--a true adventurer in his +devotion to his impulse--a man of high mind and of pure heart, +lay the foundation of a flourishing state on the ideas of pity +and justice. He recognized chivalrously the claims of the +conquered; he was a disinterested adventurer, and the reward of +his noble instincts is in the veneration with which a strange and +faithful race cherish his memory. + +Misunderstood and traduced in life, the glory of his achievement +has vindicated the purity of his motives. He belongs to history. +But there were others--obscure adventurers who had not his +advantages of birth, position, and intelligence; who had only his +sympathy with the people of forests and sea he understood and +loved so well. They can not be said to be forgotten since they +have not been known at all. They were lost in the common crowd of +seamen-traders of the Archipelago, and if they emerged from their +obscurity it was only to be condemned as law-breakers. Their +lives were thrown away for a cause that had no right to exist in +the face of an irresistible and orderly progress-- their +thoughtless lives guided by a simple feeling. + +But the wasted lives, for the few who know, have tinged with +romance the region of shallow waters and forest-clad islands, +that lies far east, and still mysterious between the deep waters +of two oceans. + + +I + +Out of the level blue of a shallow sea Carimata raises a lofty +barrenness of grey and yellow tints, the drab eminence of its +arid heights. Separated by a narrow strip of water, Suroeton, to +the west, shows a curved and ridged outline resembling the +backbone of a stooping giant. And to the eastward a troop of +insignificant islets stand effaced, indistinct, with vague +features that seem to melt into the gathering shadows. The night +following from the eastward the retreat of the setting sun +advanced slowly, swallowing the land and the sea; the land +broken, tormented and abrupt; the sea smooth and inviting with +its easy polish of continuous surface to wanderings facile and +endless. + +There was no wind, and a small brig that had lain all the +afternoon a few miles to the northward and westward of Carimata +had hardly altered its position half a mile during all these +hours. The calm was absolute, a dead, flat calm, the stillness of +a dead sea and of a dead atmosphere. As far as the eye could +reach there was nothing but an impressive immobility. Nothing +moved on earth, on the waters, and above them in the unbroken +lustre of the sky. On the unruffled surface of the straits the +brig floated tranquil and upright as if bolted solidly, keel to +keel, with its own image reflected in the unframed and immense +mirror of the sea. To the south and east the double islands +watched silently the double ship that seemed fixed amongst them +forever, a hopeless captive of the calm, a helpless prisoner of +the shallow sea. + +Since midday, when the light and capricious airs of these seas +had abandoned the little brig to its lingering fate, her head had +swung slowly to the westward and the end of her slender and +polished jib-boom, projecting boldly beyond the graceful curve of +the bow, pointed at the setting sun, like a spear poised high in +the hand of an enemy. Right aft by the wheel the Malay +quartermaster stood with his bare, brown feet firmly planted on +the wheel-grating, and holding the spokes at right angles, in a +solid grasp, as though the ship had been running before a gale. +He stood there perfectly motionless, as if petrified but ready to +tend the helm as soon as fate would permit the brig to gather way +through the oily sea. + +The only other human being then visible on the brig's deck was +the person in charge: a white man of low stature, thick-set, with +shaven cheeks, a grizzled moustache, and a face tinted a scarlet +hue by the burning suns and by the sharp salt breezes of the +seas. He had thrown off his light jacket, and clad only in white +trousers and a thin cotton singlet, with his stout arms crossed +on his breast--upon which they showed like two thick lumps of raw +flesh--he prowled about from side to side of the half-poop. On +his bare feet he wore a pair of straw sandals, and his head was +protected by an enormous pith hat--once white but now very +dirty--which gave to the whole man the aspect of a phenomenal and +animated mushroom. At times he would interrupt his uneasy +shuffle athwart the break of the poop, and stand motionless with +a vague gaze fixed on the image of the brig in the calm water. He +could also see down there his own head and shoulders leaning out +over the rail and he would stand long, as if interested by his +own features, and mutter vague curses on the calm which lay upon +the ship like an immovable burden, immense and burning. + +At last, he sighed profoundly, nerved himself for a great effort, +and making a start away from the rail managed to drag his +slippers as far as the binnacle. There he stopped again, +exhausted and bored. From under the lifted glass panes of the +cabin skylight near by came the feeble chirp of a canary, which +appeared to give him some satisfaction. He listened, smiled +faintly muttered "Dicky, poor Dick--" and fell back into the +immense silence of the world. His eyes closed, his head hung low +over the hot brass of the binnacle top. Suddenly he stood up with +a jerk and said sharply in a hoarse voice: + +"You've been sleeping--you. Shift the helm. She has got stern way +on her." + +The Malay, without the least flinch of feature or pose, as if he +had been an inanimate object called suddenly into life by some +hidden magic of the words, spun the wheel rapidly, letting the +spokes pass through his hands; and when the motion had stopped +with a grinding noise, caught hold again and held on grimly. +After a while, however, he turned his head slowly over his +shoulder, glanced at the sea, and said in an obstinate tone: + +"No catch wind--no get way." + +"No catch--no catch--that's all you know about it," growled the +red-faced seaman. "By and by catch Ali--" he went on with sudden +condescension. "By and by catch, and then the helm will be the +right way. See?" + +The stolid seacannie appeared to see, and for that matter to +hear, nothing. The white man looked at the impassive Malay with +disgust, then glanced around the horizon--then again at the +helmsman and ordered curtly: + +"Shift the helm back again. Don't you feel the air from aft? You +are like a dummy standing there." + +The Malay revolved the spokes again with disdainful obedience, +and the red-faced man was moving forward grunting to himself, +when through the open skylight the hail "On deck there!" arrested +him short, attentive, and with a sudden change to amiability in +the expression of his face. + +"Yes, sir," he said, bending his ear toward the opening. "What's +the matter up there?" asked a deep voice from below. + +The red-faced man in a tone of surprise said: + +"Sir?" + +"I hear that rudder grinding hard up and hard down. What are you +up to, Shaw? Any wind?" + +"Ye-es," drawled Shaw, putting his head down the skylight and +speaking into the gloom of the cabin. "I thought there was a +light air, and--but it's gone now. Not a breath anywhere under +the heavens." + +He withdrew his head and waited a while by the skylight, but +heard only the chirping of the indefatigable canary, a feeble +twittering that seemed to ooze through the drooping red blossoms +of geraniums growing in flower-pots under the glass panes. He +strolled away a step or two before the voice from down below +called hurriedly: + +"Hey, Shaw? Are you there?" + +"Yes, Captain Lingard," he answered, stepping back. "Have we +drifted anything this afternoon?" + +"Not an inch, sir, not an inch. We might as well have been at +anchor." + +"It's always so," said the invisible Lingard. His voice changed +its tone as he moved in the cabin, and directly afterward burst +out with a clear intonation while his head appeared above the +slide of the cabin entrance: + +"Always so! The currents don't begin till it's dark, when a man +can't see against what confounded thing he is being drifted, and +then the breeze will come. Dead on end, too, I don't doubt." + +Shaw moved his shoulders slightly. The Malay at the wheel, after +making a dive to see the time by the cabin clock through the +skylight, rang a double stroke on the small bell aft. Directly +forward, on the main deck, a shrill whistle arose long drawn, +modulated, dying away softly. The master of the brig stepped out +of the companion upon the deck of his vessel, glanced aloft at +the yards laid dead square; then, from the door-step, took a +long, lingering look round the horizon. + +He was about thirty-five, erect and supple. He moved freely, more +like a man accustomed to stride over plains and hills, than like +one who from his earliest youth had been used to counteract by +sudden swayings of his body the rise and roll of cramped decks of +small craft, tossed by the caprice of angry or playful seas. + +He wore a grey flannel shirt, and his white trousers were held by +a blue silk scarf wound tightly round his narrow waist. He had +come up only for a moment, but finding the poop shaded by the +main-topsail he remained on deck bareheaded. The light chestnut +hair curled close about his well-shaped head, and the clipped +beard glinted vividly when he passed across a narrow strip of +sunlight, as if every hair in it had been a wavy and attenuated +gold wire. His mouth was lost in the heavy moustache; his nose +was straight, short, slightly blunted at the end; a broad band of +deeper red stretched under the eyes, clung to the cheek bones. +The eyes gave the face its remarkable expression. The eyebrows, +darker than the hair, pencilled a straight line below the wide +and unwrinkled brow much whiter than the sunburnt face. The eyes, +as if glowing with the light of a hidden fire, had a red glint in +their greyness that gave a scrutinizing ardour to the steadiness +of their gaze. + +That man, once so well known, and now so completely forgotten +amongst the charming and heartless shores of the shallow sea, had +amongst his fellows the nickname of "Red-Eyed Tom." He was proud +of his luck but not of his good sense. He was proud of his brig, +of the speed of his craft, which was reckoned the swiftest +country vessel in those seas, and proud of what she represented. + +She represented a run of luck on the Victorian goldfields; his +sagacious moderation; long days of planning, of loving care in +building; the great joy of his youth, the incomparable freedom of +the seas; a perfect because a wandering home; his independence, +his love--and his anxiety. He had often heard men say that Tom +Lingard cared for nothing on earth but for his brig--and in his +thoughts he would smilingly correct the statement by adding that +he cared for nothing LIVING but the brig. + +To him she was as full of life as the great world. He felt her +live in every motion, in every roll, in every sway of her +tapering masts, of those masts whose painted trucks move forever, +to a seaman's eye, against the clouds or against the stars. To +him she was always precious--like old love; always +desirable--like a strange woman; always tender--like a mother; +always faithful --like the favourite daughter of a man's heart. + +For hours he would stand elbow on rail, his head in his hand and +listen--and listen in dreamy stillness to the cajoling and +promising whisper of the sea, that slipped past in vanishing +bubbles along the smooth black-painted sides of his craft. What +passed in such moments of thoughtful solitude through the mind of +that child of generations of fishermen from the coast of Devon, +who like most of his class was dead to the subtle voices, and +blind to the mysterious aspects of the world--the man ready for +the obvious, no matter how startling, how terrible or menacing, +yet defenceless as a child before the shadowy impulses of his own +heart; what could have been the thoughts of such a man, when once +surrendered to a dreamy mood, it is difficult to say. + +No doubt he, like most of us, would be uplifted at times by the +awakened lyrism of his heart into regions charming, empty, and +dangerous. But also, like most of us, he was unaware of his +barren journeys above the interesting cares of this earth. Yet +from these, no doubt absurd and wasted moments, there remained on +the man's daily life a tinge as that of a glowing and serene +half-light. It softened the outlines of his rugged nature; and +these moments kept close the bond between him and his brig. + +He was aware that his little vessel could give him something not +to be had from anybody or anything in the world; something +specially his own. The dependence of that solid man of bone and +muscle on that obedient thing of wood and iron, acquired from +that feeling the mysterious dignity of love. She--the craft--had +all the qualities of a living thing: speed, obedience, +trustworthiness, endurance, beauty, capacity to do and to +suffer--all but life. He--the man--was the inspirer of that thing +that to him seemed the most perfect of its kind. His will was its +will, his thought was its impulse, his breath was the breath of +its existence. He felt all this confusedly, without ever shaping +this feeling into the soundless formulas of thought. To him she +was unique and dear, this brig of three hundred and fourteen tons +register--a kingdom! + +And now, bareheaded and burly, he walked the deck of his kingdom +with a regular stride. He stepped out from the hip, swinging his +arms with the free motion of a man starting out for a +fifteen-mile walk into open country; yet at every twelfth stride +he had to turn about sharply and pace back the distance to the +taffrail. + +Shaw, with his hands stuck in his waistband, had hooked himself +with both elbows to the rail, and gazed apparently at the deck +between his feet. In reality he was contemplating a little house +with a tiny front garden, lost in a maze of riverside streets in +the east end of London. The circumstance that he had not, as yet, +been able to make the acquaintance of his son--now aged eighteen +months--worried him slightly, and was the cause of that flight of +his fancy into the murky atmosphere of his home. But it was a +placid flight followed by a quick return. In less than two +minutes he was back in the brig. "All there," as his saying was. +He was proud of being always "all there." + +He was abrupt in manner and grumpy in speech with the seamen. To +his successive captains, he was outwardly as deferential as he +knew how, and as a rule inwardly hostile--so very few seemed to +him of the "all there" kind. Of Lingard, with whom he had only +been a short time--having been picked up in Madras Roads out of a +home ship, which he had to leave after a thumping row with the +master--he generally approved, although he recognized with regret +that this man, like most others, had some absurd fads; he defined +them as "bottom-upwards notions." + +He was a man--as there were many--of no particular value to +anybody but himself, and of no account but as the chief mate of +the brig, and the only white man on board of her besides the +captain. He felt himself immeasurably superior to the Malay +seamen whom he had to handle, and treated them with lofty +toleration, notwithstanding his opinion that at a pinch those +chaps would be found emphatically "not there." + +As soon as his mind came back from his home leave, he detached +himself from the rail and, walking forward, stood by the break of +the poop, looking along the port side of the main deck. Lingard +on his own side stopped in his walk and also gazed absentmindedly +before him. In the waist of the brig, in the narrow spars that +were lashed on each side of the hatchway, he could see a group of +men squatting in a circle around a wooden tray piled up with +rice, which stood on the just swept deck. The dark-faced, +soft-eyed silent men, squatting on their hams, fed decorously +with an earnestness that did not exclude reserve. + +Of the lot, only one or two wore sarongs, the others having +submitted--at least at sea--to the indignity of European +trousers. Only two sat on the spars. One, a man with a childlike, +light yellow face, smiling with fatuous imbecility under the +wisps of straight coarse hair dyed a mahogany tint, was the +tindal of the crew--a kind of boatswain's or serang's mate. The +other, sitting beside him on the booms, was a man nearly black, +not much bigger than a large ape, and wearing on his wrinkled +face that look of comical truculence which is often +characteristic of men from the southwestern coast of Sumatra. + +This was the kassab or store-keeper, the holder of a position of +dignity and ease. The kassab was the only one of the crew taking +their evening meal who noticed the presence on deck of their +commander. He muttered something to the tindal who directly +cocked his old hat on one side, which senseless action invested +him with an altogether foolish appearance. The others heard, but +went on somnolently feeding with spidery movements of their lean +arms. + +The sun was no more than a degree or so above the horizon, and +from the heated surface of the waters a slight low mist began to +rise; a mist thin, invisible to the human eye; yet strong enough +to change the sun into a mere glowing red disc, a disc vertical +and hot, rolling down to the edge of the horizontal and +cold-looking disc of the shining sea. Then the edges touched and +the circular expanse of water took on suddenly a tint, sombre, +like a frown; deep, like the brooding meditation of evil. + +The falling sun seemed to be arrested for a moment in his descent +by the sleeping waters, while from it, to the motionless brig, +shot out on the polished and dark surface of the sea a track of +light, straight and shining, resplendent and direct; a path of +gold and crimson and purple, a path that seemed to lead dazzling +and terrible from the earth straight into heaven through the +portals of a glorious death. It faded slowly. The sea vanquished +the light. At last only a vestige of the sun remained, far off, +like a red spark floating on the water. It lingered, and all at +once--without warning--went out as if extinguished by a +treacherous hand. + +"Gone," cried Lingard, who had watched intently yet missed the +last moment. "Gone! Look at the cabin clock, Shaw!" + +"Nearly right, I think, sir. Three minutes past six." + +The helmsman struck four bells sharply. Another barefooted +seacannie glided on the far side of the poop to relieve the +wheel, and the serang of the brig came up the ladder to take +charge of the deck from Shaw. He came up to the compass, and +stood waiting silently. + +"The course is south by east when you get the wind, serang," said +Shaw, distinctly. + +"Sou' by eas'," repeated the elderly Malay with grave +earnestness. + +"Let me know when she begins to steer," added Lingard. + +"Ya, Tuan," answered the man, glancing rapidly at the sky. "Wind +coming," he muttered. + +"I think so, too," whispered Lingard as if to himself. + +The shadows were gathering rapidly round the brig. A mulatto put +his head out of the companion and called out: + +"Ready, sir." + +"Let's get a mouthful of something to eat, Shaw," said Lingard. +"I say, just take a look around before coming below. It will be +dark when we come up again." + +"Certainly, sir," said Shaw, taking up a long glass and putting +it to his eyes. "Blessed thing," he went on in snatches while he +worked the tubes in and out, "I can't--never somehow--Ah! I've +got it right at last!" + +He revolved slowly on his heels, keeping the end of the tube on +the sky-line. Then he shut the instrument with a click, and said +decisively: + +"Nothing in sight, sir." + +He followed his captain down below rubbing his hands cheerfully. + +For a good while there was no sound on the poop of the brig. Then +the seacannie at the wheel spoke dreamily: + +"Did the malim say there was no one on the sea?" + +"Yes," grunted the serang without looking at the man behind him. + +"Between the islands there was a boat," pronounced the man very +softly. + +The serang, his hands behind his back, his feet slightly apart, +stood very straight and stiff by the side of the compass stand. +His face, now hardly visible, was as inexpressive as the door of +a safe. + +"Now, listen to me," insisted the helmsman in a gentle tone. + +The man in authority did not budge a hair's breadth. The +seacannie bent down a little from the height of the wheel +grating. + +"I saw a boat," he murmured with something of the tender +obstinacy of a lover begging for a favour. "I saw a boat, O Haji +Wasub! Ya! Haji Wasub!" + +The serang had been twice a pilgrim, and was not insensible to +the sound of his rightful title. There was a grim smile on his +face. + +"You saw a floating tree, O Sali," he said, ironically. + +"I am Sali, and my eyes are better than the bewitched brass thing +that pulls out to a great length," said the pertinacious +helmsman. "There was a boat, just clear of the easternmost +island. There was a boat, and they in her could see the ship on +the light of the west--unless they are blind men lost on the sea. +I have seen her. Have you seen her, too, O Haji Wasub?" + +"Am I a fat white man?" snapped the serang. "I was a man of the +sea before you were born, O Sali! The order is to keep silence +and mind the rudder, lest evil befall the ship." + +After these words he resumed his rigid aloofness. He stood, his +legs slightly apart, very stiff and straight, a little on one +side of the compass stand. His eyes travelled incessantly from +the illuminated card to the shadowy sails of the brig and back +again, while his body was motionless as if made of wood and built +into the ship's frame. Thus, with a forced and tense +watchfulness, Haji Wasub, serang of the brig Lightning, kept the +captain's watch unwearied and wakeful, a slave to duty. + +In half an hour after sunset the darkness had taken complete +possession of earth and heavens. The islands had melted into the +night. And on the smooth water of the Straits, the little brig +lying so still, seemed to sleep profoundly, wrapped up in a +scented mantle of star light and silence. + + + +II + +It was half-past eight o'clock before Lingard came on deck again. +Shaw--now with a coat on--trotted up and down the poop leaving +behind him a smell of tobacco smoke. An irregularly glowing spark +seemed to run by itself in the darkness before the rounded form +of his head. Above the masts of the brig the dome of the clear +heaven was full of lights that flickered, as if some mighty +breathings high up there had been swaying about the flame of the +stars. There was no sound along the brig's decks, and the heavy +shadows that lay on it had the aspect, in that silence, of secret +places concealing crouching forms that waited in perfect +stillness for some decisive event. Lingard struck a match to +light his cheroot, and his powerful face with narrowed eyes stood +out for a moment in the night and vanished suddenly. Then two +shadowy forms and two red sparks moved backward and forward on +the poop. A larger, but a paler and oval patch of light from the +compass lamps lay on the brasses of the wheel and on the breast +of the Malay standing by the helm. Lingard's voice, as if unable +altogether to master the enormous silence of the sea, sounded +muffled, very calm--without the usual deep ring in it. + +"Not much change, Shaw," he said. + +"No, sir, not much. I can just see the island--the big one--still +in the same place. It strikes me, sir, that, for calms, this here +sea is a devil of loc-ality." + +He cut "locality" in two with an emphatic pause. It was a good +word. He was pleased with himself for thinking of it. He went on +again: + +"Now--since noon, this big island--" + +"Carimata, Shaw," interrupted Lingard. + +"Aye, sir; Carimata--I mean. I must say--being a stranger +hereabouts--I haven't got the run of those--" + +He was going to say "names" but checked himself and said, +"appellations," instead, sounding every syllable lovingly. + +"Having for these last fifteen years," he continued, "sailed +regularly from London in East-Indiamen, I am more at home over +there--in the Bay." + +He pointed into the night toward the northwest and stared as if +he could see from where he stood that Bay of Bengal where--as he +affirmed--he would be so much more at home. + +"You'll soon get used--" muttered Lingard, swinging in his rapid +walk past his mate. Then he turned round, came back, and asked +sharply. + +"You said there was nothing afloat in sight before dark? Hey?" + +"Not that I could see, sir. When I took the deck again at eight, +I asked that serang whether there was anything about; and I +understood him to say there was no more as when I went below at +six. This is a lonely sea at times--ain't it, sir? Now, one would +think at this time of the year the homeward-bounders from China +would be pretty thick here." + +"Yes," said Lingard, "we have met very few ships since we left +Pedra Branca over the stern. Yes; it has been a lonely sea. But +for all that, Shaw, this sea, if lonely, is not blind. Every +island in it is an eye. And now, since our squadron has left for +the China waters--" + +He did not finish his sentence. Shaw put his hands in his +pockets, and propped his back against the sky-light, comfortably. + +"They say there is going to be a war with China," he said in a +gossiping tone, "and the French are going along with us as they +did in the Crimea five years ago. It seems to me we're getting +mighty good friends with the French. I've not much of an opinion +about that. What do you think, Captain Lingard?" + +"I have met their men-of-war in the Pacific," said Lingard, +slowly. "The ships were fine and the fellows in them were civil +enough to me--and very curious about my business," he added with +a laugh. "However, I wasn't there to make war on them. I had a +rotten old cutter then, for trade, Shaw," he went on with +animation. + +"Had you, sir?" said Shaw without any enthusiasm. "Now give me a +big ship--a ship, I say, that one may--" + +"And later on, some years ago," interrupted Lingard, "I chummed +with a French skipper in Ampanam--being the only two white men in +the whole place. He was a good fellow, and free with his red +wine. His English was difficult to understand, but he could sing +songs in his own language about ah-moor--Ah-moor means love, in +French--Shaw." + +"So it does, sir--so it does. When I was second mate of a +Sunderland barque, in forty-one, in the Mediterranean, I could +pay out their lingo as easy as you would a five-inch warp over a +ship's side--" + +"Yes, he was a proper man," pursued Lingard, meditatively, as if +for himself only. "You could not find a better fellow for company +ashore. He had an affair with a Bali girl, who one evening threw +a red blossom at him from within a doorway, as we were going +together to pay our respects to the Rajah's nephew. He was a +good-looking Frenchman, he was--but the girl belonged to the +Rajah's nephew, and it was a serious matter. The old Rajah got +angry and said the girl must die. I don't think the nephew cared +particularly to have her krissed; but the old fellow made a great +fuss and sent one of his own chief men to see the thing done +--and the girl had enemies--her own relations approved! We could +do nothing. Mind, Shaw, there was absolutely nothing else between +them but that unlucky flower which the Frenchman pinned to his +coat--and afterward, when the girl was dead, wore under his +shirt, hung round his neck in a small box. I suppose he had +nothing else to put it into." + +"Would those savages kill a woman for that?" asked Shaw, +incredulously. + +"Aye! They are pretty moral there. That was the first time in my +life I nearly went to war on my own account, Shaw. We couldn't +talk those fellows over. We couldn't bribe them, though the +Frenchman offered the best he had, and I was ready to back him to +the last dollar, to the last rag of cotton, Shaw! No use--they +were that blamed respectable. So, says the Frenchman to me: 'My +friend, if they won't take our gunpowder for a gift let us burn +it to give them lead.' I was armed as you see now; six +eight-pounders on the main deck and a long eighteen on the +forecastle--and I wanted to try 'em. You may believe me! However, +the Frenchman had nothing but a few old muskets; and the beggars +got to windward of us by fair words, till one morning a boat's +crew from the Frenchman's ship found the girl lying dead on the +beach. That put an end to our plans. She was out of her trouble +anyhow, and no reasonable man will fight for a dead woman. I was +never vengeful, Shaw, and--after all--she didn't throw that +flower at me. But it broke the Frenchman up altogether. He began +to mope, did no business, and shortly afterward sailed away. I +cleared a good many pence out of that trip, I remember." + +With these words he seemed to come to the end of his memories of +that trip. Shaw stifled a yawn. + +"Women are the cause of a lot of trouble," he said, +dispassionately. "In the Morayshire, I remember, we had once a +passenger--an old gentleman--who was telling us a yarn about them +old-time Greeks fighting for ten years about some woman. The +Turks kidnapped her, or something. Anyway, they fought in Turkey; +which I may well believe. Them Greeks and Turks were always +fighting. My father was master's mate on board one of the +three-deckers at the battle of Navarino--and that was when we +went to help those Greeks. But this affair about a woman was long +before that time." + +"I should think so," muttered Lingard, hanging over the rail, and +watching the fleeting gleams that passed deep down in the water, +along the ship's bottom. + +"Yes. Times are changed. They were unenlightened in those old +days. My grandfather was a preacher and, though my father served +in the navy, I don't hold with war. Sinful the old gentleman +called it--and I think so, too. Unless with Chinamen, or niggers, +or such people as must be kept in order and won't listen to +reason; having not sense enough to know what's good for them, +when it's explained to them by their betters--missionaries, and +such like au-tho-ri-ties. But to fight ten years. And for a +woman!" + +"I have read the tale in a book," said Lingard, speaking down +over the side as if setting his words gently afloat upon the sea. +"I have read the tale. She was very beautiful." + +"That only makes it worse, sir--if anything. You may depend on it +she was no good. Those pagan times will never come back, thank +God. Ten years of murder and unrighteousness! And for a woman! +Would anybody do it now? Would you do it, sir? Would you--" + +The sound of a bell struck sharply interrupted Shaw's discourse. +High aloft, some dry block sent out a screech, short and +lamentable, like a cry of pain. It pierced the quietness of the +night to the very core, and seemed to destroy the reserve which +it had imposed upon the tones of the two men, who spoke now +loudly. + +"Throw the cover over the binnacle," said Lingard in his duty +voice. "The thing shines like a full moon. We mustn't show more +lights than we can help, when becalmed at night so near the land. +No use in being seen if you can't see yourself--is there? Bear +that in mind, Mr. Shaw. There may be some vagabonds prying +about--" + +"I thought all this was over and done for," said Shaw, busying +himself with the cover, "since Sir Thomas Cochrane swept along +the Borneo coast with his squadron some years ago. He did a rare +lot of fighting--didn't he? We heard about it from the chaps of +the sloop Diana that was refitting in Calcutta when I was there +in the Warwick Castle. They took some king's town up a river +hereabouts. The chaps were full of it." + +"Sir Thomas did good work," answered Lingard, "but it will be a +long time before these seas are as safe as the English Channel is +in peace time. I spoke about that light more to get you in the +way of things to be attended to in these seas than for anything +else. Did you notice how few native craft we've sighted for all +these days we have been drifting about--one may say--in this +sea?" + +"I can't say I have attached any significance to the fact, sir." + +"It's a sign that something is up. Once set a rumour afloat in +these waters, and it will make its way from island to island, +without any breeze to drive it along." + +"Being myself a deep-water man sailing steadily out of home ports +nearly all my life," said Shaw with great deliberation, "I cannot +pretend to see through the peculiarities of them out-of-the-way +parts. But I can keep a lookout in an ordinary way, and I have +noticed that craft of any kind seemed scarce, for the last few +days: considering that we had land aboard of us--one side or +another--nearly every day." + +"You will get to know the peculiarities, as you call them, if you +remain any time with me," remarked Lingard, negligently. + +"I hope I shall give satisfaction, whether the time be long or +short!" said Shaw, accentuating the meaning of his words by the +distinctness of his utterance. "A man who has spent thirty-two +years of his life on saltwater can say no more. If being an +officer of home ships for the last fifteen years I don't +understand the heathen ways of them there savages, in matters of +seamanship and duty, you will find me all there, Captain +Lingard." + +"Except, judging from what you said a little while ago--except in +the matter of fighting," said Lingard, with a short laugh. + +"Fighting! I am not aware that anybody wants to fight me. I am a +peaceable man, Captain Lingard, but when put to it, I could fight +as well as any of them flat-nosed chaps we have to make shift +with, instead of a proper crew of decent Christians. Fighting!" +he went on with unexpected pugnacity of tone, "Fighting! If +anybody comes to fight me, he will find me all there, I swear!" + +"That's all right. That's all right," said Lingard, stretching +his arms above his head and wriggling his shoulders. "My word! I +do wish a breeze would come to let us get away from here. I am +rather in a hurry, Shaw." + +"Indeed, sir! Well, I never yet met a thorough seafaring man who +was not in a hurry when a con-demned spell of calm had him by the +heels. When a breeze comes . . . just listen to this, sir!" + +"I hear it," said Lingard. "Tide-rip, Shaw." + +"So I presume, sir. But what a fuss it makes. Seldom heard such +a--" + +On the sea, upon the furthest limits of vision, appeared an +advancing streak of seething foam, resembling a narrow white +ribbon, drawn rapidly along the level surface of the water by its +two ends, which were lost in the darkness. It reached the brig, +passed under, stretching out on each side; and on each side the +water became noisy, breaking into numerous and tiny wavelets, a +mimicry of an immense agitation. Yet the vessel in the midst of +this sudden and loud disturbance remained as motionless and +steady as if she had been securely moored between the stone walls +of a safe dock. In a few moments the line of foam and ripple +running swiftly north passed at once beyond sight and earshot, +leaving no trace on the unconquerable calm. + +"Now this is very curious--" began Shaw. + +Lingard made a gesture to command silence. He seemed to listen +yet, as if the wash of the ripple could have had an echo which he +expected to hear. And a man's voice that was heard forward had +something of the impersonal ring of voices thrown back from hard +and lofty cliffs upon the empty distances of the sea. It spoke in +Malay--faintly. + +"What?" hailed Shaw. "What is it?" + +Lingard put a restraining hand for a moment on his chief +officer's shoulder, and moved forward smartly. Shaw followed, +puzzled. The rapid exchange of incomprehensible words thrown +backward and forward through the shadows of the brig's main deck +from his captain to the lookout man and back again, made him feel +sadly out of it, somehow. + +Lingard had called out sharply--"What do you see?" The answer +direct and quick was--"I hear, Tuan. I hear oars." + +"Whereabouts?" + +"The night is all around us. I hear them near." + +"Port or starboard?" + +There was a short delay in answer this time. On the quarter-deck, +under the poop, bare feet shuffled. Somebody coughed. At last the +voice forward said doubtfully: + +"Kanan." + +"Call the serang, Mr. Shaw," said Lingard, calmly, "and have the +hands turned up. They are all lying about the decks. Look sharp +now. There's something near us. It's annoying to be caught like +this," he added in a vexed tone. + +He crossed over to the starboard side, and stood listening, one +hand grasping the royal back-stay, his ear turned to the sea, but +he could hear nothing from there. The quarter-deck was filled +with subdued sounds. Suddenly, a long, shrill whistle soared, +reverberated loudly amongst the flat surfaces of motionless +sails, and gradually grew faint as if the sound had escaped and +gone away, running upon the water. Haji Wasub was on deck and +ready to carry out the white man's commands. Then silence fell +again on the brig, until Shaw spoke quietly. + +"I am going forward now, sir, with the tindal. We're all at +stations." + +"Aye, Mr. Shaw. Very good. Mind they don't board you--but I can +hear nothing. Not a sound. It can't be much." + +"The fellow has been dreaming, no doubt. I have good ears, too, +and--" + +He went forward and the end of his sentence was lost in an +indistinct growl. Lingard stood attentive. One by one the three +seacannies off duty appeared on the poop and busied themselves +around a big chest that stood by the side of the cabin companion. +A rattle and clink of steel weapons turned out on the deck was +heard, but the men did not even whisper. Lingard peered steadily +into the night, then shook his head. + +"Serang!" he called, half aloud. + +The spare old man ran up the ladder so smartly that his bony feet +did not seem to touch the steps. He stood by his commander, his +hands behind his back; a figure indistinct but straight as an +arrow. + +"Who was looking out?" asked Lingard. + +"Badroon, the Bugis," said Wasub, in his crisp, jerky manner. + +"I can hear nothing. Badroon heard the noise in his mind." + +"The night hides the boat." + +"Have you seen it?" + +"Yes, Tuan. Small boat. Before sunset. By the land. Now coming +here--near. Badroon heard him." + +"Why didn't you report it, then?" asked Lingard, sharply. + +"Malim spoke. He said: 'Nothing there,' while I could see. How +could I know what was in his mind or yours, Tuan?" + +"Do you hear anything now?" + +"No. They stopped now. Perhaps lost the ship--who knows? Perhaps +afraid--" + +"Well!" muttered Lingard, moving his feet uneasily. "I believe +you lie. What kind of boat?" + +"White men's boat. A four-men boat, I think. Small. Tuan, I hear +him now! There!" + +He stretched his arm straight out, pointing abeam for a time, +then his arm fell slowly. + +"Coming this way," he added with decision. + +From forward Shaw called out in a startled tone: + +"Something on the water, sir! Broad on this bow!" + +"All right!" called back Lingard. + +A lump of blacker darkness floated into his view. From it came +over the water English words--deliberate, reaching him one by +one; as if each had made its own difficult way through the +profound stillness of the night. + +"What--ship--is--that--pray?" + +"English brig," answered Lingard, after a short moment of +hesitation. + +"A brig! I thought you were something bigger," went on the voice +from the sea with a tinge of disappointment in its deliberate +tone. "I am coming alongside--if--you--please." + +"No! you don't!" called Lingard back, sharply. The leisurely +drawl of the invisible speaker seemed to him offensive, and woke +up a hostile feeling. "No! you don't if you care for your boat. +Where do you spring from? Who are you--anyhow? How many of you +are there in that boat?" + +After these emphatic questions there was an interval of silence. +During that time the shape of the boat became a little more +distinct. She must have carried some way on her yet, for she +loomed up bigger and nearly abreast of where Lingard stood, +before the self-possessed voice was heard again: + +"I will show you." + +Then, after another short pause, the voice said, less loud but +very plain: + +"Strike on the gunwale. Strike hard, John!" and suddenly a blue +light blazed out, illuminating with a livid flame a round patch +in the night. In the smoke and splutter of that ghastly halo +appeared a white, four-oared gig with five men sitting in her in +a row. Their heads were turned toward the brig with a strong +expression of curiosity on their faces, which, in this glare, +brilliant and sinister, took on a deathlike aspect and resembled +the faces of interested corpses. Then the bowman dropped into the +water the light he held above his head and the darkness, rushing +back at the boat, swallowed it with a loud and angry hiss. + +"Five of us," said the composed voice out of the night that +seemed now darker than before. "Four hands and myself. We belong +to a yacht--a British yacht--" + +"Come on board!" shouted Lingard. "Why didn't you speak at once? +I thought you might have been some masquerading Dutchmen from a +dodging gunboat." + +"Do I speak like a blamed Dutchman? Pull a stroke, boys--oars! +Tend bow, John." + +The boat came alongside with a gentle knock, and a man's shape +began to climb at once up the brig's side with a kind of +ponderous agility. It poised itself for a moment on the rail to +say down into the boat--"Sheer off a little, boys," then jumped +on deck with a thud, and said to Shaw who was coming aft: "Good +evening . . . Captain, sir?" + +"No. On the poop!" growled Shaw. + +"Come up here. Come up," called Lingard, impatiently. + +The Malays had left their stations and stood clustered by the +mainmast in a silent group. Not a word was spoken on the brig's +decks, while the stranger made his way to the waiting captain. +Lingard saw approaching him a short, dapper man, who touched his +cap and repeated his greeting in a cool drawl: + +"Good evening. . . Captain, sir?" + +"Yes, I am the master--what's the matter? Adrift from your ship? +Or what?" + +"Adrift? No! We left her four days ago, and have been pulling +that gig in a calm, nearly ever since. My men are done. So is the +water. Lucky thing I sighted you." + +"You sighted me!" exclaimed Lingard. "When? What time?" + +"Not in the dark, you may be sure. We've been knocking about +amongst some islands to the southward, breaking our hearts +tugging at the oars in one channel, then in another--trying to +get clear. We got round an islet--a barren thing, in shape like a +loaf of sugar--and I caught sight of a vessel a long way off. I +took her bearing in a hurry and we buckled to; but another of +them currents must have had hold of us, for it was a long time +before we managed to clear that islet. I steered by the stars, +and, by the Lord Harry, I began to think I had missed you +somehow--because it must have been you I saw." + +"Yes, it must have been. We had nothing in sight all day," +assented Lingard. "Where's your vessel?" he asked, eagerly. + +"Hard and fast on middling soft mud--I should think about sixty +miles from here. We are the second boat sent off for assistance. +We parted company with the other on Tuesday. She must have passed +to the northward of you to-day. The chief officer is in her with +orders to make for Singapore. I am second, and was sent off +toward the Straits here on the chance of falling in with some +ship. I have a letter from the owner. Our gentry are tired of +being stuck in the mud and wish for assistance." + +"What assistance did you expect to find down here?" + +"The letter will tell you that. May I ask, Captain, for a little +water for the chaps in my boat? And I myself would thank you for +a drink. We haven't had a mouthful since this afternoon. Our +breaker leaked out somehow." + +"See to it, Mr. Shaw," said Lingard. "Come down the cabin, Mr.--" + +"Carter is my name." + +"Ah! Mr. Carter. Come down, come down," went on Lingard, leading +the way down the cabin stairs. + +The steward had lighted the swinging lamp, and had put a decanter +and bottles on the table. The cuddy looked cheerful, painted +white, with gold mouldings round the panels. Opposite the +curtained recess of the stern windows there was a sideboard with +a marble top, and, above it, a looking-glass in a gilt frame. The +semicircular couch round the stern had cushions of crimson plush. +The table was covered with a black Indian tablecloth embroidered +in vivid colours. Between the beams of the poop-deck were fitted +racks for muskets, the barrels of which glinted in the light. +There were twenty-four of them between the four beams. As many +sword-bayonets of an old pattern encircled the polished teakwood +of the rudder-casing with a double belt of brass and steel. All +the doors of the state-rooms had been taken off the hinges and +only curtains closed the doorways. They seemed to be made of +yellow Chinese silk, and fluttered all together, the four of +them, as the two men entered the cuddy. + +Carter took in all at a glance, but his eyes were arrested by a +circular shield hung slanting above the brass hilts of the +bayonets. On its red field, in relief and brightly gilt, was +represented a sheaf of conventional thunderbolts darting down the +middle between the two capitals T. L. Lingard examined his guest +curiously. He saw a young man, but looking still more youthful, +with a boyish smooth face much sunburnt, twinkling blue eyes, +fair hair and a slight moustache. He noticed his arrested gaze. + +"Ah, you're looking at that thing. It's a present from the +builder of this brig. The best man that ever launched a craft. +It's supposed to be the ship's name between my initials--flash of +lightning--d'you see? The brig's name is Lightning and mine is +Lingard." + +"Very pretty thing that: shows the cabin off well," murmured +Carter, politely. + +They drank, nodding at each other, and sat down. + +"Now for the letter," said Lingard. + +Carter passed it over the table and looked about, while Lingard +took the letter out of an open envelope, addressed to the +commander of any British ship in the Java Sea. The paper was +thick, had an embossed heading: "Schooner-yacht Hermit" and was +dated four days before. The message said that on a hazy night the +yacht had gone ashore upon some outlying shoals off the coast of +Borneo. The land was low. The opinion of the sailing-master was +that the vessel had gone ashore at the top of high water, spring +tides. The coast was completely deserted to all appearance. +During the four days they had been stranded there they had +sighted in the distance two small native vessels, which did not +approach. The owner concluded by asking any commander of a +homeward-bound ship to report the yacht's position in Anjer on +his way through Sunda Straits--or to any British or Dutch man-of- +war he might meet. The letter ended by anticipatory thanks, the +offer to pay any expenses in connection with the sending of +messages from Anjer, and the usual polite expressions. + +Folding the paper slowly in the old creases, Lingard said--"I am +not going to Anjer--nor anywhere near." + +"Any place will do, I fancy," said Carter. + +"Not the place where I am bound to," answered Lingard, opening +the letter again and glancing at it uneasily. "He does not +describe very well the coast, and his latitude is very +uncertain," he went on. "I am not clear in my mind where exactly +you are stranded. And yet I know every inch of that land--over +there." + +Carter cleared his throat and began to talk in his slow drawl. He +seemed to dole out facts, to disclose with sparing words the +features of the coast, but every word showed the minuteness of +his observation, the clear vision of a seaman able to master +quickly the aspect of a strange land and of a strange sea. He +presented, with concise lucidity, the picture of the tangle of +reefs and sandbanks, through which the yacht had miraculously +blundered in the dark before she took the ground. + +"The weather seems clear enough at sea," he observed, finally, +and stopped to drink a long draught. Lingard, bending over the +table, had been listening with eager attention. Carter went on in +his curt and deliberate manner: + +"I noticed some high trees on what I take to be the mainland to +the south--and whoever has business in that bight was smart +enough to whitewash two of them: one on the point, and another +farther in. Landmarks, I guess. . . . What's the matter, +Captain?" + +Lingard had jumped to his feet, but Carter's exclamation caused +him to sit down again. + +"Nothing, nothing . . . Tell me, how many men have you in that +yacht?" + +"Twenty-three, besides the gentry, the owner, his wife and a +Spanish gentleman--a friend they picked up in Manila." + +"So you were coming from Manila?" + +"Aye. Bound for Batavia. The owner wishes to study the Dutch +colonial system. Wants to expose it, he says. One can't help +hearing a lot when keeping watch aft--you know how it is. Then we +are going to Ceylon to meet the mail-boat there. The owner is +going home as he came out, overland through Egypt. The yacht +would return round the Cape, of course." + +"A lady?" said Lingard. "You say there is a lady on board. Are +you armed?" + +"Not much," replied Carter, negligently. "There are a few muskets +and two sporting guns aft; that's about all--I fancy it's too +much, or not enough," he added with a faint smile. + +Lingard looked at him narrowly. + +"Did you come out from home in that craft?" he asked. + +"Not I! I am not one of them regular yacht hands. I came out of +the hospital in Hongkong. I've been two years on the China +coast." + +He stopped, then added in an explanatory murmur: + +"Opium clippers--you know. Nothing of brass buttons about me. My +ship left me behind, and I was in want of work. I took this job +but I didn't want to go home particularly. It's slow work after +sailing with old Robinson in the Ly-e-moon. That was my ship. +Heard of her, Captain?" + +"Yes, yes," said Lingard, hastily. "Look here, Mr. Carter, which +way was your chief officer trying for Singapore? Through the +Straits of Rhio?" + +"I suppose so," answered Carter in a slightly surprised tone; +"why do you ask?" + +"Just to know . . . What is it, Mr. Shaw?" + +"There's a black cloud rising to the northward, sir, and we shall +get a breeze directly," said Shaw from the doorway. + +He lingered there with his eyes fixed on the decanters. + +"Will you have a glass?" said Lingard, leaving his seat. "I will +go up and have a look." + +He went on deck. Shaw approached the table and began to help +himself, handling the bottles in profound silence and with +exaggerated caution, as if he had been measuring out of fragile +vessels a dose of some deadly poison. Carter, his hands in his +pockets, and leaning back, examined him from head to foot with a +cool stare. The mate of the brig raised the glass to his lips, +and glaring above the rim at the stranger, drained the contents +slowly. + +"You have a fine nose for finding ships in the dark, Mister," he +said, distinctly, putting the glass on the table with extreme +gentleness. + +"Eh? What's that? I sighted you just after sunset." + +"And you knew where to look, too," said Shaw, staring hard. + +"I looked to the westward where there was still some light, as +any sensible man would do," retorted the other a little +impatiently. "What are you trying to get at?" + +"And you have a ready tongue to blow about yourself--haven't +you?" + +"Never saw such a man in my life," declared Carter, with a return +of his nonchalant manner. "You seem to be troubled about +something." + +"I don't like boats to come sneaking up from nowhere in +particular, alongside a ship when I am in charge of the deck. I +can keep a lookout as well as any man out of home ports, but I +hate to be circumvented by muffled oars and such ungentlemanlike +tricks. Yacht officer--indeed. These seas must be full of such +yachtsmen. I consider you played a mean trick on me. I told my +old man there was nothing in sight at sunset--and no more there +was. I believe you blundered upon us by chance--for all your +boasting about sunsets and bearings. Gammon! I know you came on +blindly on top of us, and with muffled oars, too. D'ye call that +decent?" + +"If I did muffle the oars it was for a good reason. I wanted to +slip past a cove where some native craft were moored. That was +common prudence in such a small boat, and not armed--as I am. I +saw you right enough, but I had no intention to startle anybody. +Take my word for it." + +"I wish you had gone somewhere else," growled Shaw. "I hate to be +put in the wrong through accident and untruthfulness--there! +Here's my old man calling me--" + +He left the cabin hurriedly and soon afterward Lingard came down, +and sat again facing Carter across the table. His face was grave +but resolute. + +"We shall get the breeze directly," he said. + +"Then, sir," said Carter, getting up, "if you will give me back +that letter I shall go on cruising about here to speak some other +ship. I trust you will report us wherever you are going." + +"I am going to the yacht and I shall keep the letter," answered +Lingard with decision. "I know exactly where she is, and I must +go to the rescue of those people. It's most fortunate you've +fallen in with me, Mr. Carter. Fortunate for them and fortunate +for me," he added in a lower tone. + +"Yes," drawled Carter, reflectively. "There may be a tidy bit of +salvage money if you should get the vessel off, but I don't think +you can do much. I had better stay out here and try to speak some +gunboat--" + +"You must come back to your ship with me," said Lingard, +authoritatively. "Never mind the gunboats." + +"That wouldn't be carrying out my orders," argued Carter. "I've +got to speak a homeward-bound ship or a man-of-war--that's plain +enough. I am not anxious to knock about for days in an open boat, +but--let me fill my fresh-water breaker, Captain, and I will be +off." + +"Nonsense," said Lingard, sharply. "You've got to come with me to +show the place and--and help. I'll take your boat in tow." + +Carter did not seem convinced. Lingard laid a heavy hand on his +shoulder. + +"Look here, young fellow. I am Tom Lingard and there's not a +white man among these islands, and very few natives, that have +not heard of me. My luck brought you into my ship--and now I've +got you, you must stay. You must!" + +The last "must" burst out loud and sharp like a pistol-shot. +Carter stepped back. + +"Do you mean you would keep me by force?" he asked, startled. + +"Force," repeated Lingard. "It rests with you. I cannot let you +speak any vessel. Your yacht has gone ashore in a most +inconvenient place--for me; and with your boats sent off here and +there, you would bring every infernal gunboat buzzing to a spot +that was as quiet and retired as the heart of man could wish. You +stranding just on that spot of the whole coast was my bad luck. +And that I could not help. You coming upon me like this is my +good luck. And that I hold!" + +He dropped his clenched fist, big and muscular, in the light of +the lamp on the black cloth, amongst the glitter of glasses, with +the strong fingers closed tight upon the firm flesh of the palm. +He left it there for a moment as if showing Carter that luck he +was going to hold. And he went on: + +"Do you know into what hornet's nest your stupid people have +blundered? How much d'ye think their lives are worth, just now? +Not a brass farthing if the breeze fails me for another +twenty-four hours. You may well open your eyes. It is so! And it +may be too late now, while I am arguing with you here." + +He tapped the table with his knuckles, and the glasses, waking +up, jingled a thin, plaintive finale to his speech. Carter stood +leaning against the sideboard. He was amazed by the unexpected +turn of the conversation; his jaw dropped slightly and his eyes +never swerved for a moment from Lingard's face. The silence in +the cabin lasted only a few seconds, but to Carter, who waited +breathlessly, it seemed very long. And all at once he heard in +it, for the first time, the cabin clock tick distinctly, in +pulsating beats, as though a little heart of metal behind the +dial had been started into sudden palpitation. + +"A gunboat!" shouted Lingard, suddenly, as if he had seen only in +that moment, by the light of some vivid flash of thought, all the +difficulties of the situation. "If you don't go back with me +there will be nothing left for you to go back to--very soon. Your +gunboat won't find a single ship's rib or a single corpse left +for a landmark. That she won't. It isn't a gunboat skipper you +want. I am the man you want. You don't know your luck when you +see it, but I know mine, I do--and--look here- -" + +He touched Carter's chest with his forefinger, and said with a +sudden gentleness of tone: + +"I am a white man inside and out; I won't let inoffensive people- +-and a woman, too--come to harm if I can help it. And if I can't +help, nobody can. You understand--nobody! There's no time for it. +But I am like any other man that is worth his salt: I won't let +the end of an undertaking go by the board while there is a chance +to hold on--and it's like this--" + +His voice was persuasive--almost caressing; he had hold now of a +coat button and tugged at it slightly as he went on in a +confidential manner: + +"As it turns out, Mr. Carter, I would--in a manner of speaking--I +would as soon shoot you where you stand as let you go to raise an +alarm all over this sea about your confounded yacht. I have other +lives to consider--and friends-- and promises--and--and myself, +too. I shall keep you," he concluded, sharply. + +Carter drew a long breath. On the deck above, the two men could +hear soft footfalls, short murmurs, indistinct words spoken near +the skylight. Shaw's voice rang out loudly in growling tones: + +"Furl the royals, you tindal!" + +"It's the queerest old go," muttered Carter, looking down on to +the floor. "You are a strange man. I suppose I must believe what +you say--unless you and that fat mate of yours are a couple of +escaped lunatics that got hold of a brig by some means. Why, that +chap up there wanted to pick a quarrel with me for coming aboard, +and now you threaten to shoot me rather than let me go. Not that +I care much about that; for some time or other you would get +hanged for it; and you don't look like a man that will end that +way. If what you say is only half true, I ought to get back to +the yacht as quick as ever I can. It strikes me that your coming +to them will be only a small mercy, anyhow--and I may be of some +use--But this is the queerest. . . . May I go in my boat?" + +"As you like," said Lingard. "There's a rain squall coming." + +"I am in charge and will get wet along of my chaps. Give us a +good long line, Captain." + +"It's done already," said Lingard. "You seem a sensible sailorman +and can see that it would be useless to try and give me the +slip." + +"For a man so ready to shoot, you seem very trustful," drawled +Carter. "If I cut adrift in a squall, I stand a pretty fair +chance not to see you again." + +"You just try," said Lingard, drily. "I have eyes in this brig, +young man, that will see your boat when you couldn't see the +ship. You are of the kind I like, but if you monkey with me I +will find you--and when I find you I will run you down as surely +as I stand here." + +Carter slapped his thigh and his eyes twinkled. + +"By the Lord Harry!" he cried. "If it wasn't for the men with me, +I would try for sport. You are so cocksure about the lot you can +do, Captain. You would aggravate a saint into open mutiny." + +His easy good humour had returned; but after a short burst of +laughter, he became serious. + +"Never fear," he said, "I won't slip away. If there is to be any +throat-cutting--as you seem to hint--mine will be there, too, I +promise you, and. . . ." + +He stretched his arms out, glanced at them, shook them a little. + +"And this pair of arms to take care of it," he added, in his old, +careless drawl. + +ut the master of the brig sitting with both his elbows on the +table, his face in his hands, had fallen unexpectedly into a +meditation so concentrated and so profound that he seemed neither +to hear, see, nor breathe. The sight of that man's complete +absorption in thought was to Carter almost more surprising than +any other occurrence of that night. Had his strange host vanished +suddenly from before his eyes, it could not have made him feel +more uncomfortably alone in that cabin where the pertinacious +clock kept ticking off the useless minutes of the calm before it +would, with the same steady beat, begin to measure the aimless +disturbance of the storm. + + + +III + +After waiting a moment, Carter went on deck. The sky, the sea, +the brig itself had disappeared in a darkness that had become +impenetrable, palpable, and stifling. An immense cloud had come +up running over the heavens, as if looking for the little craft, +and now hung over it, arrested. To the south there was a livid +trembling gleam, faint and sad, like a vanishing memory of +destroyed starlight. To the north, as if to prove the impossible, +an incredibly blacker patch outlined on the tremendous blackness +of the sky the heart of the coming squall. The glimmers in the +water had gone out and the invisible sea all around lay mute and +still as if it had died suddenly of fright. + +Carter could see nothing. He felt about him people moving; he +heard them in the darkness whispering faintly as if they had been +exchanging secrets important or infamous. The night effaced even +words, and its mystery had captured everything and every sound-- +had left nothing free but the unexpected that seemed to hover +about one, ready to stretch out its stealthy hand in a touch +sudden, familiar, and appalling. Even the careless disposition of +the young ex-officer of an opium-clipper was affected by the +ominous aspect of the hour. What was this vessel? What were those +people? What would happen to-morrow? To the yacht? To himself? He +felt suddenly without any additional reason but the darkness that +it was a poor show, anyhow, a dashed poor show for all hands. The +irrational conviction made him falter for a second where he stood +and he gripped the slide of the companionway hard. + +Shaw's voice right close to his ear relieved and cleared his +troubled thoughts. + +"Oh! it's you, Mister. Come up at last," said the mate of the +brig slowly. "It appears we've got to give you a tow now. Of all +the rum in-cidents, this beats all. A boat sneaks up from nowhere +and turns out to be a long-expected friend! For you are one of +them friends the skipper was going to meet somewhere here. Ain't +you now? Come! I know more than you may think. Are we off to--you +may just as well tell--off to--h'm ha . . . you know?" + +"Yes. I know. Don't you?" articulated Carter, innocently. + +Shaw remained very quiet for a minute. + +"Where's my skipper?" he asked at last. + +"I left him down below in a kind of trance. Where's my boat?" + +"Your boat is hanging astern. And my opinion is that you are as +uncivil as I've proved you to be untruthful. Egzz-actly." + +Carter stumbled toward the taffrail and in the first step he made +came full against somebody who glided away. It seemed to him that +such a night brings men to a lower level. He thought that he +might have been knocked on the head by anybody strong enough to +lift a crow-bar. He felt strangely irritated. He said loudly, +aiming his words at Shaw whom he supposed somewhere near: + +"And my opinion is that you and your skipper will come to a +sudden bad end before--" + +"I thought you were in your boat. Have you changed your mind?" +asked Lingard in his deep voice close to Carter's elbow. + +Carter felt his way along the rail, till his hand found a line +that seemed, in the calm, to stream out of its own accord into +the darkness. He hailed his boat, and directly heard the wash of +water against her bows as she was hauled quickly under the +counter. Then he loomed up shapeless on the rail, and the next +moment disappeared as if he had fallen out of the universe. +Lingard heard him say: + +"Catch hold of my leg, John." There were hollow sounds in the +boat; a voice growled, "All right." + +"Keep clear of the counter," said Lingard, speaking in quiet +warning tones into the night. "The brig may get a lot of sternway +on her should this squall not strike her fairly." + +"Aye, aye. I will mind," was the muttered answer from the water. + +Lingard crossed over to the port side, and looked steadily at the +sooty mass of approaching vapours. After a moment he said curtly, +"Brace up for the port tack, Mr. Shaw," and remained silent, with +his face to the sea. A sound, sorrowful and startling like the +sigh of some immense creature, travelling across the starless +space, passed above the vertical and lofty spars of the +motionless brig. + +It grew louder, then suddenly ceased for a moment, and the taut +rigging of the brig was heard vibrating its answer in a singing +note to this threatening murmur of the winds. A long and slow +undulation lifted the level of the waters, as if the sea had +drawn a deep breath of anxious suspense. The next minute an +immense disturbance leaped out of the darkness upon the sea, +kindling upon it a livid clearness of foam, and the first gust of +the squall boarded the brig in a stinging flick of rain and +spray. As if overwhelmed by the suddenness of the fierce onset, +the vessel remained for a second upright where she floated, +shaking with tremendous jerks from trucks to keel; while high up +in the night the invisible canvas was heard rattling and beating +about violently. + +Then, with a quick double report, as of heavy guns, both topsails +filled at once and the brig fell over swiftly on her side. Shaw +was thrown headlong against the skylight, and Lingard, who had +encircled the weather rail with his arm, felt the vessel under +his feet dart forward smoothly, and the deck become less +slanting--the speed of the brig running off a little now, easing +the overturning strain of the wind upon the distended surfaces of +the sails. It was only the fineness of the little vessel's lines +and the perfect shape of her hull that saved the canvas, and +perhaps the spars, by enabling the ready craft to get way upon +herself with such lightning-like rapidity. Lingard drew a long +breath and yelled jubilantly at Shaw who was struggling up +against wind and rain to his commander's side. + +"She'll do. Hold on everything." + +Shaw tried to speak. He swallowed great mouthfuls of tepid water +which the wind drove down his throat. The brig seemed to sail +through undulating waves that passed swishing between the masts +and swept over the decks with the fierce rush and noise of a +cataract. From every spar and every rope a ragged sheet of water +streamed flicking to leeward. The overpowering deluge seemed to +last for an age; became unbearable--and, all at once, stopped. In +a couple of minutes the shower had run its length over the brig +and now could be seen like a straight grey wall, going away into +the night under the fierce whispering of dissolving clouds. The +wind eased. To the northward, low down in the darkness, three +stars appeared in a row, leaping in and out between the crests of +waves like the distant heads of swimmers in a running surf; and +the retreating edge of the cloud, perfectly straight from east to +west, slipped along the dome of the sky like an immense +hemispheric, iron shutter pivoting down smoothly as if operated +by some mighty engine. An inspiring and penetrating freshness +flowed together with the shimmer of light, through the augmented +glory of the heaven, a glory exalted, undimmed, and strangely +startling as if a new world had been created during the short +flight of the stormy cloud. It was a return to life, a return to +space; the earth coming out from under a pall to take its place +in the renewed and immense scintillation of the universe. + +The brig, her yards slightly checked in, ran with an easy motion +under the topsails, jib and driver, pushing contemptuously aside +the turbulent crowd of noisy and agitated waves. As the craft +went swiftly ahead she unrolled behind her over the uneasy +darkness of the sea a broad ribbon of seething foam shot with +wispy gleams of dark discs escaping from under the rudder. Far +away astern, at the end of a line no thicker than a black thread, +which dipped now and then its long curve in the bursting froth, a +toy-like object could be made out, elongated and dark, racing +after the brig over the snowy whiteness of her wake. + +Lingard walked aft, and, with both his hands on the taffrail, +looked eagerly for Carter's boat. The first glance satisfied +him that the yacht's gig was towing easily at the end of the long +scope of line, and he turned away to look ahead and to leeward +with a steady gaze. It was then half an hour past midnight and +Shaw, relieved by Wasub, had gone below. Before he went, he said +to Lingard, "I will be off, sir, if you're not going to make more +sail yet." "Not yet for a while," had answered Lingard in a +preoccupied manner; and Shaw departed aggrieved at such a neglect +of making the best of a good breeze. + +On the main deck dark-skinned men, whose clothing clung to their +shivering limbs as if they had been overboard, had finished +recoiling the braces, and clearing the gear. The kassab, after +having hung the fore-topsail halyards in the becket, strutted +into the waist toward a row of men who stood idly with their +shoulders against the side of the long boat amidships. He passed +along looking up close at the stolid faces. Room was made for +him, and he took his place at the end. + +"It was a great rain and a mighty wind, O men," he said, +dogmatically, "but no wind can ever hurt this ship. That I knew +while I stood minding the sail which is under my care." + +A dull and inexpressive murmur was heard from the men. Over the +high weather rail, a topping wave flung into their eyes a handful +of heavy drops that stung like hail. There were low groans of +indignation. A man sighed. Another emitted a spasmodic laugh +through his chattering teeth. No one moved away. The little +kassab wiped his face and went on in his cracked voice, to the +accompaniment of the swishing sounds made by the seas that swept +regularly astern along the ship's side. + +"Have you heard him shout at the wind--louder than the wind? I +have heard, being far forward. And before, too, in the many years +I served this white man I have heard him often cry magic words +that make all safe. Ya-wa! This is truth. Ask Wasub who is a +Haji, even as I am." + +"I have seen white men's ships with their masts broken--also +wrecked like our own praus," remarked sadly a lean, lank fellow +who shivered beside the kassab, hanging his head and trying to +grasp his shoulder blades. + +"True," admitted the kassab. "They are all the children of Satan +but to some more favour is shown. To obey such men on the sea or +in a fight is good. I saw him who is master here fight with wild +men who eat their enemies--far away to the eastward--and I dealt +blows by his side without fear; for the charms he, no doubt, +possesses protect his servants also. I am a believer and the +Stoned One can not touch my forehead. Yet the reward of victory +comes from the accursed. For six years have I sailed with that +white man; first as one who minds the rudder, for I am a man of +the sea, born in a prau, and am skilled in such work. And now, +because of my great knowledge of his desires, I have the care of +all things in this ship." + +Several voices muttered, "True. True." They remained apathetic +and patient, in the rush of wind, under the repeated short +flights of sprays. The slight roll of the ship balanced them +stiffly all together where they stood propped against the big +boat. The breeze humming between the inclined masts enveloped +their dark and silent figures in the unceasing resonance of its +breath. + +The brig's head had been laid so as to pass a little to windward +of the small islands of the Carimata group. They had been till +then hidden in the night, but now both men on the lookout +reported land ahead in one long cry. Lingard, standing to leeward +abreast of the wheel, watched the islet first seen. When it was +nearly abeam of the brig he gave his orders, and Wasub hurried +off to the main deck. The helm was put down, the yards on the +main came slowly square and the wet canvas of the main-topsail +clung suddenly to the mast after a single heavy flap. The +dazzling streak of the ship's wake vanished. The vessel lost her +way and began to dip her bows into the quick succession of the +running head seas. And at every slow plunge of the craft, the +song of the wind would swell louder amongst the waving spars, +with a wild and mournful note. + +Just as the brig's boat had been swung out, ready for lowering, +the yacht's gig hauled up by its line appeared tossing and +splashing on the lee quarter. Carter stood up in the stern sheets +balancing himself cleverly to the disordered motion of his +cockleshell. He hailed the brig twice to know what was the +matter, not being able from below and in the darkness to make out +what that confused group of men on the poop were about. He got no +answer, though he could see the shape of a man standing by +himself aft, and apparently watching him. He was going to repeat +his hail for the third time when he heard the rattling of tackles +followed by a heavy splash, a burst of voices, scrambling hollow +sounds--and a dark mass detaching itself from the brig's side +swept past him on the crest of a passing wave. For less than a +second he could see on the shimmer of the night sky the shape of +a boat, the heads of men, the blades of oars pointing upward +while being got out hurriedly. Then all this sank out of sight, +reappeared once more far off and hardly discernible, before +vanishing for good. + +"Why, they've lowered a boat!" exclaimed Carter, falling back in +his seat. He remembered that he had seen only a few hours ago +three native praus lurking amongst those very islands. For a +moment he had the idea of casting off to go in chase of that +boat, so as to find out. . . . Find out what? He gave up his idea +at once. What could he do? + +The conviction that the yacht, and everything belonging to her, +were in some indefinite but very real danger, took afresh a +strong hold of him, and the persuasion that the master of the +brig was going there to help did not by any means assuage his +alarm. The fact only served to complicate his uneasiness with a +sense of mystery. + +The white man who spoke as if that sea was all his own, or as if +people intruded upon his privacy by taking the liberty of getting +wrecked on a coast where he and his friends did some queer +business, seemed to him an undesirable helper. That the boat had +been lowered to communicate with the praus seen and avoided by +him in the evening he had no doubt. The thought had flashed on +him at once. It had an ugly look. Yet the best thing to do after +all was to hang on and get back to the yacht and warn them. . . . +Warn them against whom? The man had been perfectly open with him. +Warn them against what? It struck him that he hadn't the +slightest conception of what would happen, of what was even +likely to happen. That strange rescuer himself was bringing the +news of danger. Danger from the natives of course. And yet he was +in communication with those natives. That was evident. That boat +going off in the night. . . . Carter swore heartily to himself. +His perplexity became positive bodily pain as he sat, wet, +uncomfortable, and still, one hand on the tiller, thrown up and +down in headlong swings of his boat. And before his eyes, +towering high, the black hull of the brig also rose and fell, +setting her stern down in the sea, now and again, with a +tremendous and foaming splash. Not a sound from her reached +Carter's ears. She seemed an abandoned craft but for the outline +of a man's head and body still visible in a watchful attitude +above the taffrail. + +Carter told his bowman to haul up closer and hailed: + +"Brig ahoy. Anything wrong?" + +He waited, listening. The shadowy man still watched. After some +time a curt "No" came back in answer. + +"Are you going to keep hove-to long?" shouted Carter. + +"Don't know. Not long. Drop your boat clear of the ship. Drop +clear. Do damage if you don't." + +"Slack away, John!" said Carter in a resigned tone to the elderly +seaman in the bow. "Slack away and let us ride easy to the full +scope. They don't seem very talkative on board there." + +Even while he was speaking the line ran out and the regular +undulations of the passing seas drove the boat away from the +brig. Carter turned a little in his seat to look at the land. It +loomed up dead to leeward like a lofty and irregular cone only a +mile or a mile and a half distant. The noise of the surf beating +upon its base was heard against the wind in measured detonations. +The fatigue of many days spent in the boat asserted itself above +the restlessness of Carter's thoughts and, gradually, he lost the +notion of the passing time without altogether losing the +consciousness of his situation. + +In the intervals of that benumbed stupor--rather than sleep--he +was aware that the interrupted noise of the surf had grown into a +continuous great rumble, swelling periodically into a loud roar; +that the high islet appeared now bigger, and that a white fringe +of foam was visible at its feet. Still there was no stir or +movement of any kind on board the brig. He noticed that the wind +was moderating and the sea going down with it, and then dozed off +again for a minute. When next he opened his eyes with a start, it +was just in time to see with surprise a new star soar noiselessly +straight up from behind the land, take up its position in a +brilliant constellation--and go out suddenly. Two more followed, +ascending together, and after reaching about the same elevation, +expired side by side. + +"Them's rockets, sir--ain't they?" said one of the men in a +muffled voice. + +"Aye, rockets," grunted Carter. "And now, what's the next move?" +he muttered to himself dismally. + +He got his answer in the fierce swishing whirr of a slender ray +of fire that, shooting violently upward from the sombre hull of +the brig, dissolved at once into a dull red shower of falling +sparks. Only one, white and brilliant, remained alone poised high +overhead, and after glowing vividly for a second, exploded with a +feeble report. Almost at the same time he saw the brig's head +fall off the wind, made out the yards swinging round to fill the +main topsail, and heard distinctly the thud of the first wave +thrown off by the advancing bows. The next minute the tow-line +got the strain and his boat started hurriedly after the brig with +a sudden jerk. + +Leaning forward, wide awake and attentive, Carter steered. His +men sat one behind another with shoulders up, and arched backs, +dozing, uncomfortable but patient, upon the thwarts. The care +requisite to steer the boat properly in the track of the seething +and disturbed water left by the brig in her rapid course +prevented him from reflecting much upon the incertitude of the +future and upon his own unusual situation. + +Now he was only exceedingly anxious to see the yacht again, and +it was with a feeling of very real satisfaction that he saw all +plain sail being made on the brig. Through the remaining hours of +the night he sat grasping the tiller and keeping his eyes on the +shadowy and high pyramid of canvas gliding steadily ahead of his +boat with a slight balancing movement from side to side. + + + +IV + +It was noon before the brig, piloted by Lingard through the deep +channels between the outer coral reefs, rounded within +pistol-shot a low hummock of sand which marked the end of a long +stretch of stony ledges that, being mostly awash, showed a black +head only, here and there amongst the hissing brown froth of the +yellow sea. As the brig drew clear of the sandy patch there +appeared, dead to windward and beyond a maze of broken water, +sandspits, and clusters of rocks, the black hull of the yacht +heeling over, high and motionless upon the great expanse of +glittering shallows. Her long, naked spars were inclined slightly +as if she had been sailing with a good breeze. There was to the +lookers-on aboard the brig something sad and disappointing in the +yacht's aspect as she lay perfectly still in an attitude that in +a seaman's mind is associated with the idea of rapid motion. + +"Here she is!" said Shaw, who, clad in a spotless white suit, +came just then from forward where he had been busy with the +anchors. "She is well on, sir--isn't she? Looks like a mudflat to +me from here." + +"Yes. It is a mudflat," said Lingard, slowly, raising the long +glass to his eye. "Haul the mainsail up, Mr. Shaw," he went on +while he took a steady look at the yacht. "We will have to work +in short tacks here." + +He put the glass down and moved away from the rail. For the next +hour he handled his little vessel in the intricate and narrow +channel with careless certitude, as if every stone, every grain +of sand upon the treacherous bottom had been plainly disclosed to +his sight. He handled her in the fitful and unsteady breeze with +a matter-of-fact audacity that made Shaw, forward at his station, +gasp in sheer alarm. When heading toward the inshore shoals the +brig was never put round till the quick, loud cries of the +leadsmen announced that there were no more than three feet of +water under her keel; and when standing toward the steep inner +edge of the long reef, where the lead was of no use, the helm +would be put down only when the cutwater touched the faint line +of the bordering foam. Lingard's love for his brig was a man's +love, and was so great that it could never be appeased unless he +called on her to put forth all her qualities and her power, to +repay his exacting affection by a faithfulness tried to the very +utmost limit of endurance. Every flutter of the sails flew down +from aloft along the taut leeches, to enter his heart in a sense +of acute delight; and the gentle murmur of water alongside, +which, continuous and soft, showed that in all her windings his +incomparable craft had never, even for an instant, ceased to +carry her way, was to him more precious and inspiring than the +soft whisper of tender words would have been to another man. It +was in such moments that he lived intensely, in a flush of strong +feeling that made him long to press his little vessel to his +breast. She was his perfect world full of trustful joy. + +The people on board the yacht, who watched eagerly the first sail +they had seen since they had been ashore on that deserted part of +the coast, soon made her out, with some disappointment, to be a +small merchant brig beating up tack for tack along the inner edge +of the reef--probably with the intention to communicate and offer +assistance. The general opinion among the seafaring portion of +her crew was that little effective assistance could be expected +from a vessel of that description. Only the sailing-master of the +yacht remarked to the boatswain (who had the advantage of being +his first cousin): "This man is well acquainted here; you can see +that by the way he handles his brig. I shan't be sorry to have +somebody to stand by us. Can't tell when we will get off this +mud, George." + +A long board, sailed very close, enabled the brig to fetch the +southern limit of discoloured water over the bank on which the +yacht had stranded. On the very edge of the muddy patch she was +put in stays for the last time. As soon as she had paid off on +the other tack, sail was shortened smartly, and the brig +commenced the stretch that was to bring her to her anchorage, +under her topsails, lower staysails and jib. There was then less +than a quarter of a mile of shallow water between her and the +yacht; but while that vessel had gone ashore with her head to the +eastward the brig was moving slowly in a west-northwest +direction, and consequently, sailed--so to speak--past the whole +length of the yacht. Lingard saw every soul in the schooner on +deck, watching his advent in a silence which was as unbroken and +perfect as that on board his own vessel. + +A little man with a red face framed in white whiskers waved a +gold-laced cap above the rail in the waist of the yacht. Lingard +raised his arm in return. Further aft, under the white awnings, +he could see two men and a woman. One of the men and the lady +were in blue. The other man, who seemed very tall and stood with +his arm entwined round an awning stanchion above his head, was +clad in white. Lingard saw them plainly. They looked at the brig +through binoculars, turned their faces to one another, moved +their lips, seemed surprised. A large dog put his forepaws on the +rail, and, lifting up his big, black head, sent out three loud +and plaintive barks, then dropped down out of sight. A sudden +stir and an appearance of excitement amongst all hands on board +the yacht was caused by their perceiving that the boat towing +astern of the stranger was their own second gig. + +Arms were outstretched with pointing fingers. Someone shouted out +a long sentence of which not a word could be made out; and then +the brig, having reached the western limit of the bank, began to +move diagonally away, increasing her distance from the yacht but +bringing her stern gradually into view. The people aft, Lingard +noticed, left their places and walked over to the taffrail so as +to keep him longer in sight. + +When about a mile off the bank and nearly in line with the stern +of the yacht the brig's topsails fluttered and the yards came +down slowly on the caps; the fore and aft canvas ran down; and +for some time she floated quietly with folded wings upon the +transparent sheet of water, under the radiant silence of the sky. +Then her anchor went to the bottom with a rumbling noise +resembling the roll of distant thunder. In a moment her head +tended to the last puffs of the northerly airs and the ensign at +the peak stirred, unfurled itself slowly, collapsed, flew out +again, and finally hung down straight and still, as if weighted +with lead. + +"Dead calm, sir," said Shaw to Lingard. "Dead calm again. We got +into this funny place in the nick of time, sir." + +They stood for a while side by side, looking round upon the coast +and the sea. The brig had been brought up in the middle of a +broad belt of clear water. To the north rocky ledges showed in +black and white lines upon the slight swell setting in from +there. A small island stood out from the broken water like the +square tower of some submerged building. It was about two miles +distant from the brig. To the eastward the coast was low; a coast +of green forests fringed with dark mangroves. There was in its +sombre dullness a clearly defined opening, as if a small piece +had been cut out with a sharp knife. The water in it shone like a +patch of polished silver. Lingard pointed it out to Shaw. + +"This is the entrance to the place where we are going," he said. + +Shaw stared, round-eyed. + +"I thought you came here on account of this here yacht," he +stammered, surprised. + +"Ah. The yacht," said Lingard, musingly, keeping his eyes on the +break in the coast. "The yacht--" He stamped his foot suddenly. +"I would give all I am worth and throw in a few days of life into +the bargain if I could get her off and away before to-night." + +He calmed down, and again stood gazing at the land. A little +within the entrance from behind the wall of forests an invisible +fire belched out steadily the black and heavy convolutions of +thick smoke, which stood out high, like a twisted and shivering +pillar against the clear blue of the sky. + +"We must stop that game, Mr. Shaw," said Lingard, abruptly. + +"Yes, sir. What game?" asked Shaw, looking round in wonder. + +"This smoke," said Lingard, impatiently. "It's a signal." + +"Certainly, sir--though I don't see how we can do it. It seems +far inland. A signal for what, sir?" + +"It was not meant for us," said Lingard in an unexpectedly savage +tone. "Here, Shaw, make them put a blank charge into that +forecastle gun. Tell 'em to ram hard the wadding and grease the +mouth. We want to make a good noise. If old Jorgenson hears it, +that fire will be out before you have time to turn round twice. . +. . In a minute, Mr. Carter." + +The yacht's boat had come alongside as soon as the brig had been +brought up, and Carter had been waiting to take Lingard on board +the yacht. They both walked now to the gangway. Shaw, following +his commander, stood by to take his last orders. + +"Put all the boats in the water, Mr. Shaw," Lingard was saying, +with one foot on the rail, ready to leave his ship, "and mount +the four-pounder swivel in the longboat's bow. Cast off the sea +lashings of the guns, but don't run 'em out yet. Keep the +topsails loose and the jib ready for setting, I may want the +sails in a hurry. Now, Mr. Carter, I am ready for you." + +"Shove off, boys," said Carter as soon as they were seated in the +boat. "Shove off, and give way for a last pull before you get a +long rest." + +The men lay back on their oars, grunting. Their faces were drawn, +grey and streaked with the dried salt sprays. They had the +worried expression of men who had a long call made upon their +endurance. Carter, heavy-eyed and dull, steered for the yacht's +gangway. Lingard asked as they were crossing the brig's bows: + +"Water enough alongside your craft, I suppose?" + +"Yes. Eight to twelve feet," answered Carter, hoarsely. "Say, +Captain! Where's your show of cutthroats? Why! This sea is as +empty as a church on a week-day." + +The booming report, nearly over his head, of the brig's +eighteen-pounder interrupted him. A round puff of white vapour, +spreading itself lazily, clung in fading shreds about the +foreyard. Lingard, turning half round in the stern sheets, looked +at the smoke on the shore. Carter remained silent, staring +sleepily at the yacht they were approaching. Lingard kept +watching the smoke so intensely that he almost forgot where he +was, till Carter's voice pronouncing sharply at his ear the words +"way enough," recalled him to himself. + +They were in the shadow of the yacht and coming alongside her +ladder. The master of the brig looked upward into the face of a +gentleman, with long whiskers and a shaved chin, staring down at +him over the side through a single eyeglass. As he put his foot +on the bottom step he could see the shore smoke still ascending, +unceasing and thick; but even as he looked the very base of the +black pillar rose above the ragged line of tree-tops. The whole +thing floated clear away from the earth, and rolling itself into +an irregularly shaped mass, drifted out to seaward, travelling +slowly over the blue heavens, like a threatening and lonely +cloud. + + + +PART II. THE SHORE OF REFUGE + +I + +The coast off which the little brig, floating upright above her +anchor, seemed to guard the high hull of the yacht has no +distinctive features. It is land without form. It stretches away +without cape or bluff, long and low--indefinitely; and when the +heavy gusts of the northeast monsoon drive the thick rain +slanting over the sea, it is seen faintly under the grey sky, +black and with a blurred outline like the straight edge of a +dissolving shore. In the long season of unclouded days, it +presents to view only a narrow band of earth that appears crushed +flat upon the vast level of waters by the weight of the sky, +whose immense dome rests on it in a line as fine and true as that +of the sea horizon itself. + +Notwithstanding its nearness to the centres of European power, +this coast has been known for ages to the armed wanderers of +these seas as "The Shore of Refuge." It has no specific name on +the charts, and geography manuals don't mention it at all; but +the wreckage of many defeats unerringly drifts into its creeks. +Its approaches are extremely difficult for a stranger. Looked at +from seaward, the innumerable islets fringing what, on account of +its vast size, may be called the mainland, merge into a +background that presents not a single landmark to point the way +through the intricate channels. It may be said that in a belt of +sea twenty miles broad along that low shore there is much more +coral, mud, sand, and stones than actual sea water. It was +amongst the outlying shoals of this stretch that the yacht had +gone ashore and the events consequent upon her stranding took +place. + +The diffused light of the short daybreak showed the open water to +the westward, sleeping, smooth and grey, under a faded heaven. +The straight coast threw a heavy belt of gloom along the shoals, +which, in the calm of expiring night, were unmarked by the +slightest ripple. In the faint dawn the low clumps of bushes on +the sandbanks appeared immense. + +Two figures, noiseless like two shadows, moved slowly over the +beach of a rocky islet, and stopped side by side on the very edge +of the water. Behind them, between the mats from which they had +arisen, a small heap of black embers smouldered quietly. They +stood upright and perfectly still, but for the slight movement of +their heads from right to left and back again as they swept their +gaze through the grey emptiness of the waters where, about two +miles distant, the hull of the yacht loomed up to seaward, black +and shapeless, against the wan sky. + +The two figures looked beyond without exchanging as much as a +murmur. The taller of the two grounded, at arm's length, the +stock of a gun with a long barrel; the hair of the other fell +down to its waist; and, near by, the leaves of creepers drooping +from the summit of the steep rock stirred no more than the +festooned stone. The faint light, disclosing here and there a +gleam of white sandbanks and the blurred hummocks of islets +scattered within the gloom of the coast, the profound silence, +the vast stillness all round, accentuated the loneliness of the +two human beings who, urged by a sleepless hope, had risen thus, +at break of day, to look afar upon the veiled face of the sea. + +"Nothing!" said the man with a sigh, and as if awakening from a +long period of musing. + +He was clad in a jacket of coarse blue cotton, of the kind a poor +fisherman might own, and he wore it wide open on a muscular chest +the colour and smoothness of bronze. From the twist of threadbare +sarong wound tightly on the hips protruded outward to the left +the ivory hilt, ringed with six bands of gold, of a weapon that +would not have disgraced a ruler. Silver glittered about the +flintlock and the hardwood stock of his gun. The red and gold +handkerchief folded round his head was of costly stuff, such as +is woven by high-born women in the households of chiefs, only the +gold threads were tarnished and the silk frayed in the folds. His +head was thrown back, the dropped eyelids narrowed the gleam of +his eyes. His face was hairless, the nose short with mobile +nostrils, and the smile of careless good-humour seemed to have +been permanently wrought, as if with a delicate tool, into the +slight hollows about the corners of rather full lips. His upright +figure had a negligent elegance. But in the careless face, in the +easy gestures of the whole man there was something attentive and +restrained. + +After giving the offing a last searching glance, he turned and, +facing the rising sun, walked bare-footed on the elastic sand. +The trailed butt of his gun made a deep furrow. The embers had +ceased to smoulder. He looked down at them pensively for a while, +then called over his shoulder to the girl who had remained +behind, still scanning the sea: + +"The fire is out, Immada." + +At the sound of his voice the girl moved toward the mats. Her +black hair hung like a mantle. Her sarong, the kilt-like garment +which both sexes wear, had the national check of grey and red, +but she had not completed her attire by the belt, scarves, the +loose upper wrappings, and the head-covering of a woman. A black +silk jacket, like that of a man of rank, was buttoned over her +bust and fitted closely to her slender waist. The edge of a +stand-up collar, stiff with gold embroidery, rubbed her cheek. +She had no bracelets, no anklets, and although dressed +practically in man's clothes, had about her person no weapon of +any sort. Her arms hung down in exceedingly tight sleeves slit a +little way up from the wrist, gold-braided and with a row of +small gold buttons. She walked, brown and alert, all of a piece, +with short steps, the eyes lively in an impassive little face, +the arched mouth closed firmly; and her whole person breathed in +its rigid grace the fiery gravity of youth at the beginning of +the task of life--at the beginning of beliefs and hopes. + +This was the day of Lingard's arrival upon the coast, but, as is +known, the brig, delayed by the calm, did not appear in sight of +the shallows till the morning was far advanced. Disappointed in +their hope to see the expected sail shining in the first rays of +the rising sun, the man and the woman, without attempting to +relight the fire, lounged on their sleeping mats. At their feet a +common canoe, hauled out of the water, was, for more security, +moored by a grass rope to the shaft of a long spear planted +firmly on the white beach, and the incoming tide lapped +monotonously against its stern. + +The girl, twisting up her black hair, fastened it with slender +wooden pins. The man, reclining at full length, had made room on +his mat for the gun--as one would do for a friend--and, supported +on his elbow, looked toward the yacht with eyes whose fixed +dreaminess like a transparent veil would show the slow passage of +every gloomy thought by deepening gradually into a sombre stare. + +"We have seen three sunrises on this islet, and no friend came +from the sea," he said without changing his attitude, with his +back toward the girl who sat on the other side of the cold +embers. + +"Yes; and the moon is waning," she answered in a low voice. "The +moon is waning. Yet he promised to be here when the nights are +light and the water covers the sandbanks as far as the bushes." + +"The traveller knows the time of his setting out, but not the +time of his return," observed the man, calmly. + +The girl sighed. + +"The nights of waiting are long," she murmured. + +"And sometimes they are vain," said the man with the same +composure. "Perhaps he will never return." + +"Why?" exclaimed the girl. + +"The road is long and the heart may grow cold," was the answer in +a quiet voice. "If he does not return it is because he has +forgotten." + +"Oh, Hassim, it is because he is dead," cried the girl, +indignantly. + +The man, looking fixedly to seaward, smiled at the ardour of her +tone. + +They were brother and sister, and though very much alike, the +family resemblance was lost in the more general traits common to +the whole race. + +They were natives of Wajo and it is a common saying amongst the +Malay race that to be a successful traveller and trader a man +must have some Wajo blood in his veins. And with those people +trading, which means also travelling afar, is a romantic and an +honourable occupation. The trader must possess an adventurous +spirit and a keen understanding; he should have the fearlessness +of youth and the sagacity of age; he should be diplomatic and +courageous, so as to secure the favour of the great and inspire +fear in evil-doers. + +These qualities naturally are not expected in a shopkeeper or a +Chinaman pedlar; they are considered indispensable only for a man +who, of noble birth and perhaps related to the ruler of his own +country, wanders over the seas in a craft of his own and with +many followers; carries from island to island important news as +well as merchandise; who may be trusted with secret messages and +valuable goods; a man who, in short, is as ready to intrigue and +fight as to buy and sell. Such is the ideal trader of Wajo. + +Trading, thus understood, was the occupation of ambitious men who +played an occult but important part in all those national +risings, religious disturbances, and also in the organized +piratical movements on a large scale which, during the first half +of the last century, affected the fate of more than one native +dynasty and, for a few years at least, seriously endangered the +Dutch rule in the East. When, at the cost of much blood and gold, +a comparative peace had been imposed on the islands the same +occupation, though shorn of its glorious possibilities, remained +attractive for the most adventurous of a restless race. The +younger sons and relations of many a native ruler traversed the +seas of the Archipelago, visited the innumerable and little-known +islands, and the then practically unknown shores of New Guinea; +every spot where European trade had not penetrated--from Aru to +Atjeh, from Sumbawa to Palawan. + + + +II + +It was in the most unknown perhaps of such spots, a small bay on +the coast of New Guinea, that young Pata Hassim, the nephew of +one of the greatest chiefs of Wajo, met Lingard for the first +time. + +He was a trader after the Wajo manner, and in a stout sea-going +prau armed with two guns and manned by young men who were related +to his family by blood or dependence, had come in there to buy +some birds of paradise skins for the old Sultan of Ternate; a +risky expedition undertaken not in the way of business but as a +matter of courtesy toward the aged Sultan who had entertained him +sumptuously in that dismal brick palace at Ternate for a month or +more. + +While lying off the village, very much on his guard, waiting for +the skins and negotiating with the treacherous coast-savages who +are the go-betweens in that trade, Hassim saw one morning +Lingard's brig come to an anchor in the bay, and shortly +afterward observed a white man of great stature with a beard that +shone like gold, land from a boat and stroll on unarmed, though +followed by four Malays of the brig's crew, toward the native +village. + +Hassim was struck with wonder and amazement at the cool +recklessness of such a proceeding; and, after; in true Malay +fashion, discussing with his people for an hour or so the urgency +of the case, he also landed, but well escorted and armed, with +the intention of going to see what would happen. + +The affair really was very simple, "such as"--Lingard would +say--"such as might have happened to anybody." He went ashore +with the intention to look for some stream where he could +conveniently replenish his water casks, this being really the +motive which had induced him to enter the bay. + +While, with his men close by and surrounded by a mop-headed, +sooty crowd, he was showing a few cotton handkerchiefs, and +trying to explain by signs the object of his landing, a spear, +lunged from behind, grazed his neck. Probably the Papuan wanted +only to ascertain whether such a creature could be killed or +hurt, and most likely firmly believed that it could not; but one +of Lingard's seamen at once retaliated by striking at the +experimenting savage with his parang--three such choppers brought +for the purpose of clearing the bush, if necessary, being all the +weapons the party from the brig possessed. + +A deadly tumult ensued with such suddenness that Lingard, turning +round swiftly, saw his defender, already speared in three places, +fall forward at his feet. Wasub, who was there, and afterward +told the story once a week on an average, used to horrify his +hearers by showing how the man blinked his eyes quickly before he +fell. Lingard was unarmed. To the end of his life he remained +incorrigibly reckless in that respect, explaining that he was +"much too quick tempered to carry firearms on the chance of a +row. And if put to it," he argued, "I can make shift to kill a +man with my fist anyhow; and then--don't ye see--you know what +you're doing and are not so apt to start a trouble from sheer +temper or funk--see?" + +In this case he did his best to kill a man with a blow from the +shoulder and catching up another by the middle flung him at the +naked, wild crowd. "He hurled men about as the wind hurls broken +boughs. + +He made a broad way through our enemies!" related Wasub in his +jerky voice. It is more probable that Lingard's quick movements +and the amazing aspect of such a strange being caused the +warriors to fall back before his rush. + +Taking instant advantage of their surprise and fear, Lingard, +followed by his men, dashed along the kind of ruinous jetty +leading to the village which was erected as usual over the water. +They darted into one of the miserable huts built of rotten mats +and bits of decayed canoes, and in this shelter showing daylight +through all its sides, they had time to draw breath and realize +that their position was not much improved. + +The women and children screaming had cleared out into the bush, +while at the shore end of the jetty the warriors capered and +yelled, preparing for a general attack. Lingard noticed with +mortification that his boat-keeper apparently had lost his head, +for, instead of swimming off to the ship to give the alarm, as he +was perfectly able to do, the man actually struck out for a small +rock a hundred yards away and was frantically trying to climb up +its perpendicular side. The tide being out, to jump into the +horrible mud under the houses would have been almost certain +death. Nothing remained therefore--since the miserable dwelling +would not have withstood a vigorous kick, let alone a siege --but +to rush back on shore and regain possession of the boat. To this +Lingard made up his mind quickly and, arming himself with a +crooked stick he found under his hand, sallied forth at the head +of his three men. As he bounded along, far in advance, he had +just time to perceive clearly the desperate nature of the +undertaking, when he heard two shots fired to his right. The +solid mass of black bodies and frizzly heads in front of him +wavered and broke up. They did not run away, however. + +Lingard pursued his course, but now with that thrill of +exultation which even a faint prospect of success inspires in a +sanguine man. He heard a shout of many voices far off, then there +was another report of a shot, and a musket ball fired at long +range spurted a tiny jet of sand between him and his wild +enemies. His next bound would have carried him into their midst +had they awaited his onset, but his uplifted arm found nothing to +strike. Black backs were leaping high or gliding horizontally +through the grass toward the edge of the bush. + +He flung his stick at the nearest pair of black shoulders and +stopped short. The tall grasses swayed themselves into a rest, a +chorus of yells and piercing shrieks died out in a dismal howl, +and all at once the wooded shores and the blue bay seemed to fall +under the spell of a luminous stillness. The change was as +startling as the awakening from a dream. The sudden silence +struck Lingard as amazing. + +He broke it by lifting his voice in a stentorian shout, which +arrested the pursuit of his men. They retired reluctantly, +glaring back angrily at the wall of a jungle where not a single +leaf stirred. The strangers, whose opportune appearance had +decided the issue of that adventure, did not attempt to join in +the pursuit but halted in a compact body on the ground lately +occupied by the savages. + +Lingard and the young leader of the Wajo traders met in the +splendid light of noonday, and amidst the attentive silence of +their followers, on the very spot where the Malay seaman had lost +his life. Lingard, striding up from one side, thrust out his open +palm; Hassim responded at once to the frank gesture and they +exchanged their first hand-clasp over the prostrate body, as if +fate had already exacted the price of a death for the most +ominous of her gifts--the gift of friendship that sometimes +contains the whole good or evil of a life. + +"I'll never forget this day," cried Lingard in a hearty tone; and +the other smiled quietly. + +Then after a short pause--"Will you burn the village for +vengeance?" asked the Malay with a quick glance down at the dead +Lascar who, on his face and with stretched arms, seemed to cling +desperately to that earth of which he had known so little. + +Lingard hesitated. + +"No," he said, at last. "It would do good to no one." + +"True," said Hassim, gently, "but was this man your debtor--a +slave?" + +"Slave?" cried Lingard. "This is an English brig. Slave? No. A +free man like myself." + +"Hai. He is indeed free now," muttered the Malay with another +glance downward. "But who will pay the bereaved for his life?" + +"If there is anywhere a woman or child belonging to him, I--my +serang would know--I shall seek them out," cried Lingard, +remorsefully. + +"You speak like a chief," said Hassim, "only our great men do not +go to battle with naked hands. O you white men! O the valour of +you white men!" + +"It was folly, pure folly," protested Lingard, "and this poor +fellow has paid for it." + +"He could not avoid his destiny," murmured the Malay. "It is in +my mind my trading is finished now in this place," he added, +cheerfully. + +Lingard expressed his regret. + +"It is no matter, it is no matter," assured the other +courteously, and after Lingard had given a pressing invitation +for Hassim and his two companions of high rank to visit the brig, +the two parties separated. + +The evening was calm when the Malay craft left its berth near the +shore and was rowed slowly across the bay to Lingard's anchorage. +The end of a stout line was thrown on board, and that night the +white man's brig and the brown man's prau swung together to the +same anchor. + +The sun setting to seaward shot its last rays between the +headlands, when the body of the killed Lascar, wrapped up +decently in a white sheet, according to Mohammedan usage, was +lowered gently below the still waters of the bay upon which his +curious glances, only a few hours before, had rested for the +first time. At the moment the dead man, released from slip-ropes, +disappeared without a ripple before the eyes of his shipmates, +the bright flash and the heavy report of the brig's bow gun were +succeeded by the muttering echoes of the encircling shores and by +the loud cries of sea birds that, wheeling in clouds, seemed to +scream after the departing seaman a wild and eternal good-bye. +The master of the brig, making his way aft with hanging head, was +followed by low murmurs of pleased surprise from his crew as well +as from the strangers who crowded the main deck. In such acts +performed simply, from conviction, what may be called the +romantic side of the man's nature came out; that responsive +sensitiveness to the shadowy appeals made by life and death, +which is the groundwork of a chivalrous character. + +Lingard entertained his three visitors far into the night. A +sheep from the brig's sea stock was given to the men of the prau, +while in the cabin, Hassim and his two friends, sitting in a row +on the stern settee, looked very splendid with costly metals and +flawed jewels. The talk conducted with hearty friendship on +Lingard's part, and on the part of the Malays with the well-bred +air of discreet courtesy, which is natural to the better class of +that people, touched upon many subjects and, in the end, drifted +to politics. + +"It is in my mind that you are a powerful man in your own +country," said Hassim, with a circular glance at the cuddy. + +"My country is upon a far-away sea where the light breezes are as +strong as the winds of the rainy weather here," said Lingard; and +there were low exclamations of wonder. "I left it very young, and +I don't know about my power there where great men alone are as +numerous as the poor people in all your islands, Tuan Hassim. But +here," he continued, "here, which is also my country--being an +English craft and worthy of it, too--I am powerful enough. In +fact, I am Rajah here. This bit of my country is all my own." + +The visitors were impressed, exchanged meaning glances, nodded at +each other. + +"Good, good," said Hassim at last, with a smile. "You carry your +country and your power with you over the sea. A Rajah upon the +sea. Good!" + +Lingard laughed thunderously while the others looked amused. + +"Your country is very powerful--we know," began again Hassim +after a pause, "but is it stronger than the country of the Dutch +who steal our land?" + +"Stronger?" cried Lingard. He opened a broad palm. "Stronger? We +could take them in our hand like this--" and he closed his +fingers triumphantly. + +"And do you make them pay tribute for their land?" enquired +Hassim with eagerness. + +"No," answered Lingard in a sobered tone; "this, Tuan Hassim, you +see, is not the custom of white men. We could, of course--but it +is not the custom." + +"Is it not?" said the other with a sceptical smile. "They are +stronger than we are and they want tribute from us. And sometimes +they get it--even from Wajo where every man is free and wears a +kris." + +There was a period of dead silence while Lingard looked +thoughtful and the Malays gazed stonily at nothing. + +"But we burn our powder amongst ourselves," went on Hassim, +gently, "and blunt our weapons upon one another." + +He sighed, paused, and then changing to an easy tone began to +urge Lingard to visit Wajo "for trade and to see friends," he +said, laying his hand on his breast and inclining his body +slightly. + +"Aye. To trade with friends," cried Lingard with a laugh, "for +such a ship"--he waved his arm--"for such a vessel as this is +like a household where there are many behind the curtain. It is +as costly as a wife and children." + +The guests rose and took their leave. + +"You fired three shots for me, Panglima Hassim," said Lingard, +seriously, "and I have had three barrels of powder put on board +your prau; one for each shot. But we are not quits." + +The Malay's eyes glittered with pleasure. + +"This is indeed a friend's gift. Come to see me in my country!" + +"I promise," said Lingard, "to see you--some day." + +The calm surface of the bay reflected the glorious night sky, and +the brig with the prau riding astern seemed to be suspended +amongst the stars in a peace that was almost unearthly in the +perfection of its unstirring silence. The last hand-shakes were +exchanged on deck, and the Malays went aboard their own craft. +Next morning, when a breeze sprang up soon after sunrise, the +brig and the prau left the bay together. When clear of the land +Lingard made all sail and sheered alongside to say good-bye +before parting company--the brig, of course, sailing three feet +to the prau's one. Hassim stood on the high deck aft. + +"Prosperous road," hailed Lingard. + +"Remember the promise!" shouted the other. "And come soon!" he +went on, raising his voice as the brig forged past. "Come +soon--lest what perhaps is written should come to pass!" + +The brig shot ahead. + +"What?" yelled Lingard in a puzzled tone, "what's written?" + +He listened. And floating over the water came faintly the words: + +"No one knows!" + + + +III + +"My word! I couldn't help liking the chap," would shout Lingard +when telling the story; and looking around at the eyes that +glittered at him through the smoke of cheroots, this Brixham +trawler-boy, afterward a youth in colliers, deep-water man, +gold-digger, owner and commander of "the finest brig afloat," +knew that by his listeners--seamen, traders, adventurers like +himself--this was accepted not as the expression of a feeling, +but as the highest commendation he could give his Malay friend. + +"By heavens! I shall go to Wajo!" he cried, and a semicircle of +heads nodded grave approbation while a slightly ironical voice +said deliberately--"You are a made man, Tom, if you get on the +right side of that Rajah of yours." + +"Go in--and look out for yourself," cried another with a laugh. + +A little professional jealousy was unavoidable, Wajo, on account +of its chronic state of disturbance, being closed to the white +traders; but there was no real ill-will in the banter of these +men, who, rising with handshakes, dropped off one by one. Lingard +went straight aboard his vessel and, till morning, walked the +poop of the brig with measured steps. The riding lights of ships +twinkled all round him; the lights ashore twinkled in rows, the +stars twinkled above his head in a black sky; and reflected in +the black water of the roadstead twinkled far below his feet. And +all these innumerable and shining points were utterly lost in the +immense darkness. Once he heard faintly the rumbling chain of +some vessel coming to an anchor far away somewhere outside the +official limits of the harbour. A stranger to the port--thought +Lingard--one of us would have stood right in. Perhaps a ship from +home? And he felt strangely touched at the thought of that ship, +weary with months of wandering, and daring not to approach the +place of rest. At sunrise, while the big ship from the West, her +sides streaked with rust and grey with the salt of the sea, was +moving slowly in to take up a berth near the shore, Lingard left +the roadstead on his way to the eastward. + +A heavy gulf thunderstorm was raging, when after a long passage +and at the end of a sultry calm day, wasted in drifting +helplessly in sight of his destination, Lingard, taking advantage +of fitful gusts of wind, approached the shores of Wajo. With +characteristic audacity, he held on his way, closing in with a +coast to which he was a stranger, and on a night that would have +appalled any other man; while at every dazzling flash, Hassim's +native land seemed to leap nearer at the brig--and disappear +instantly as though it had crouched low for the next spring out +of an impenetrable darkness. During the long day of the calm, he +had obtained from the deck and from aloft, such good views of the +coast, and had noted the lay of the land and the position of the +dangers so carefully that, though at the precise moment when he +gave the order to let go the anchor, he had been for some time +able to see no further than if his head had been wrapped in a +woollen blanket, yet the next flickering bluish flash showed him +the brig, anchored almost exactly where he had judged her to be, +off a narrow white beach near the mouth of a river. + +He could see on the shore a high cluster of bamboo huts perched +upon piles, a small grove of tall palms all bowed together before +the blast like stalks of grass, something that might have been a +palisade of pointed stakes near the water, and far off, a sombre +background resembling an immense wall--the forest-clad hills. +Next moment, all this vanished utterly from his sight, as if +annihilated and, before he had time to turn away, came back to +view with a sudden crash, appearing unscathed and motionless +under hooked darts of flame, like some legendary country of +immortals, withstanding the wrath and fire of Heaven. + +Made uneasy by the nature of his holding ground, and fearing that +in one of the terrific off-shore gusts the brig would start her +anchor, Lingard remained on deck to watch over the safety of his +vessel. With one hand upon the lead-line which would give him +instant warning of the brig beginning to drag, he stood by the +rail, most of the time deafened and blinded, but also fascinated, +by the repeated swift visions of an unknown shore, a sight always +so inspiring, as much perhaps by its vague suggestion of danger +as by the hopes of success it never fails to awaken in the heart +of a true adventurer. And its immutable aspect of profound and +still repose, seen thus under streams of fire and in the midst of +a violent uproar, made it appear inconceivably mysterious and +amazing. + +Between the squalls there were short moments of calm, while now +and then even the thunder would cease as if to draw breath. +During one of those intervals. Lingard, tired and sleepy, was +beginning to doze where he stood, when suddenly it occurred to +him that, somewhere below, the sea had spoken in a human voice. +It had said, "Praise be to God--" and the voice sounded small, +clear, and confident, like the voice of a child speaking in a +cathedral. Lingard gave a start and thought--I've dreamed +this--and directly the sea said very close to him, "Give a rope." + +The thunder growled wickedly, and Lingard, after shouting to the +men on deck, peered down at the water, until at last he made out +floating close alongside the upturned face of a man with staring +eyes that gleamed at him and then blinked quickly to a flash of +lightning. By that time all hands in the brig were wildly active +and many ropes-ends had been thrown over. Then together with a +gust of wind, and, as if blown on board, a man tumbled over the +rail and fell all in a heap upon the deck. Before any one had the +time to pick him up, he leaped to his feet, causing the people +around him to step back hurriedly. A sinister blue glare showed +the bewildered faces and the petrified attitudes of men +completely deafened by the accompanying peal of thunder. After a +time, as if to beings plunged in the abyss of eternal silence, +there came to their ears an unfamiliar thin, far-away voice +saying: + +"I seek the white man." + +"Here," cried Lingard. Then, when he had the stranger, dripping +and naked but for a soaked waistcloth, under the lamp of the +cabin, he said, "I don't know you." + +"My name is Jaffir, and I come from Pata Hassim, who is my chief +and your friend. Do you know this?" + +He held up a thick gold ring, set with a fairly good emerald. + +"I have seen it before on the Rajah's finger," said Lingard, +looking very grave. + +"It is the witness of the truth I speak--the message from Hassim +is--'Depart and forget!'" + +"I don't forget," said Lingard, slowly. "I am not that kind of +man. What folly is this?" + +It is unnecessary to give at full length the story told by +Jaffir. It appears that on his return home, after the meeting +with Lingard, Hassim found his relative dying and a strong party +formed to oppose his rightful successor. The old Rajah Tulla died +late at night and --as Jaffir put it--before the sun rose there +were already blows exchanged in the courtyard of the ruler's +dalam. This was the preliminary fight of a civil war, fostered by +foreign intrigues; a war of jungle and river, of assaulted +stockades and forest ambushes. In this contest, both parties-- +according to Jaffir--displayed great courage, and one of them an +unswerving devotion to what, almost from the first, was a lost +cause. Before a month elapsed Hassim, though still chief of an +armed band, was already a fugitive. He kept up the struggle, +however, with some vague notion that Lingard's arrival would turn +the tide. + +"For weeks we lived on wild rice; for days we fought with nothing +but water in our bellies," declaimed Jaffir in the tone of a true +fire-eater. + +And then he went on to relate, how, driven steadily down to the +sea, Hassim, with a small band of followers, had been for days +holding the stockade by the waterside. + +"But every night some men disappeared," confessed Jaffir. "They +were weary and hungry and they went to eat with their enemies. +We are only ten now--ten men and a woman with the heart of a man, +who are tonight starving, and to-morrow shall die swiftly. We saw +your ship afar all day; but you have come too late. And for fear +of treachery and lest harm should befall you--his friend--the +Rajah gave me the ring and I crept on my stomach over the sand, +and I swam in the night--and I, Jaffir, the best swimmer in Wajo, +and the slave of Hassim, tell you--his message to you is 'Depart +and forget'--and this is his gift--take!" + +He caught hold suddenly of Lingard's hand, thrust roughly into it +the ring, and then for the first time looked round the cabin with +wondering but fearless eyes. They lingered over the semicircle of +bayonets and rested fondly on musket-racks. He grunted in +admiration. + +"Ya-wa, this is strength!" he murmured as if to himself. "But it +has come too late." + +"Perhaps not," cried Lingard. + +"Too late," said Jaffir, "we are ten only, and at sunrise we go +out to die." He went to the cabin door and hesitated there with a +puzzled air, being unused to locks and door handles. + +"What are you going to do?" asked Lingard. + +"I shall swim back," replied Jaffir. "The message is spoken and +the night can not last forever." + +"You can stop with me," said Lingard, looking at the man +searchingly. + +"Hassim waits," was the curt answer. + +'Did he tell you to return?" asked Lingard. + +"No! What need?" said the other in a surprised tone. + +Lingard seized his hand impulsively. + +"If I had ten men like you!" he cried. + +"We are ten, but they are twenty to one," said Jaffir, simply. + +Lingard opened the door. + +"Do you want anything that a man can give?" he asked. + +The Malay had a moment of hesitation, and Lingard noticed the +sunken eyes, the prominent ribs, and the worn-out look of the +man. + +"Speak out," he urged with a smile; "the bearer of a gift must +have a reward." + +"A drink of water and a handful of rice for strength to reach the +shore," said Jaffir sturdily. "For over there"--he tossed his +head--"we had nothing to eat to-day." + +"You shall have it--give it to you with my own hands," muttered +Lingard. + +He did so, and thus lowered himself in Jaffir's estimation for a +time. While the messenger, squatting on the floor, ate without +haste but with considerable earnestness, Lingard thought out a +plan of action. In his ignorance as to the true state of affairs +in the country, to save Hassim from the immediate danger of his +position was all that he could reasonably attempt. To that end +Lingard proposed to swing out his long-boat and send her close +inshore to take off Hassim and his men. He knew enough of Malays +to feel sure that on such a night the besiegers, now certain of +success, and being, Jaffir said, in possession of everything that +could float, would not be very vigilant, especially on the sea +front of the stockade. The very fact of Jaffir having managed to +swim off undetected proved that much. The brig's boat could--when +the frequency of lightning abated--approach unseen close to the +beach, and the defeated party, either stealing out one by one or +making a rush in a body, would embark and be received in the +brig. + +This plan was explained to Jaffir, who heard it without the +slightest mark of interest, being apparently too busy eating. +When the last grain of rice was gone, he stood up, took a long +pull at the water bottle, muttered: "I hear. Good. I will tell +Hassim," and tightening the rag round his loins, prepared to go. +"Give me time to swim ashore," he said, "and when the boat +starts, put another light beside the one that burns now like a +star above your vessel. We shall see and understand. And don't +send the boat till there is less lightning: a boat is bigger than +a man in the water. Tell the rowers to pull for the palm-grove +and cease when an oar, thrust down with a strong arm, touches the +bottom. Very soon they will hear our hail; but if no one comes +they must go away before daylight. A chief may prefer death to +life, and we who are left are all of true heart. Do you +understand, O big man?" + +"The chap has plenty of sense," muttered Lingard to himself, and +when they stood side by side on the deck, he said: " But there +may be enemies on the beach, O Jaffir, and they also may shout to +deceive my men. So let your hail be Lightning! Will you +remember?" + +For a time Jaffir seemed to be choking. + +"Lit-ing! Is that right? I say--is that right, O strong man?" +Next moment he appeared upright and shadowy on the rail. + +"Yes. That's right. Go now," said Lingard, and Jaffir leaped off, +becoming invisible long before he struck the water. Then there +was a splash; after a while a spluttering voice cried faintly, +"Lit-ing! Ah, ha!" and suddenly the next thunder-squall burst +upon the coast. In the crashing flares of light Lingard had again +and again the quick vision of a white beach, the inclined +palm-trees of the grove, the stockade by the sea, the forest far +away: a vast landscape mysterious and still--Hassim's native +country sleeping unmoved under the wrath and fire of Heaven. + + + +IV + +A Traveller visiting Wajo to-day may, if he deserves the +confidence of the common people, hear the traditional account of +the last civil war, together with the legend of a chief and his +sister, whose mother had been a great princess suspected of +sorcery and on her death-bed had communicated to these two the +secrets of the art of magic. The chief's sister especially, "with +the aspect of a child and the fearlessness of a great fighter," +became skilled in casting spells. They were defeated by the son +of their uncle, because--will explain the narrator simply--"The +courage of us Wajo people is so great that magic can do nothing +against it. I fought in that war. We had them with their backs to +the sea." And then he will go on to relate in an awed tone how on +a certain night "when there was such a thunderstorm as has been +never heard of before or since" a ship, resembling the ships of +white men, appeared off the coast, "as though she had sailed down +from the clouds. She moved," he will affirm, "with her sails +bellying against the wind; in size she was like an island; the +lightning played between her masts which were as high as the +summits of mountains; a star burned low through the clouds above +her. We knew it for a star at once because no flame of man's +kindling could have endured the wind and rain of that night. It +was such a night that we on the watch hardly dared look upon the +sea. The heavy rain was beating down our eyelids. And when day +came, the ship was nowhere to be seen, and in the stockade where +the day before there were a hundred or more at our mercy, there +was no one. The chief, Hassim, was gone, and the lady who was a +princess in the country--and nobody knows what became of them +from that day to this. Sometimes traders from our parts talk of +having heard of them here, and heard of them there, but these are +the lies of men who go afar for gain. We who live in the country +believe that the ship sailed back into the clouds whence the +Lady's magic made her come. Did we not see the ship with our own +eyes? And as to Rajah Hassim and his sister, Mas Immada, some men +say one thing and some another, but God alone knows the truth." + +Such is the traditional account of Lingard's visit to the shores +of Boni. And the truth is he came and went the same night; for, +when the dawn broke on a cloudy sky the brig, under reefed canvas +and smothered in sprays, was storming along to the southward on +her way out of the Gulf. Lingard, watching over the rapid course +of his vessel, looked ahead with anxious eyes and more than once +asked himself with wonder, why, after all, was he thus pressing +her under all the sail she could carry. His hair was blown about +by the wind, his mind was full of care and the indistinct shapes +of many new thoughts, and under his feet, the obedient brig +dashed headlong from wave to wave. + +Her owner and commander did not know where he was going. That +adventurer had only a confused notion of being on the threshold +of a big adventure. There was something to be done, and he felt +he would have to do it. It was expected of him. The seas expected +it; the land expected it. Men also. The story of war and of +suffering; Jaffir's display of fidelity, the sight of Hassim and +his sister, the night, the tempest, the coast under streams of +fire--all this made one inspiring manifestation of a life calling +to him distinctly for interference. But what appealed to him most +was the silent, the complete, unquestioning, and apparently +uncurious, trust of these people. They came away from death +straight into his arms as it were, and remained in them passive +as though there had been no such thing as doubt or hope or +desire. This amazing unconcern seemed to put him under a heavy +load of obligation. + +He argued to himself that had not these defeated men expected +everything from him they could not have been so indifferent to +his action. Their dumb quietude stirred him more than the most +ardent pleading. Not a word, not a whisper, not a questioning +look even! They did not ask! It flattered him. He was also +rather glad of it, because if the unconscious part of him was +perfectly certain of its action, he, himself, did not know what +to do with those bruised and battered beings a playful fate had +delivered suddenly into his hands. + +He had received the fugitives personally, had helped some over +the rail; in the darkness, slashed about by lightning, he had +guessed that not one of them was unwounded, and in the midst of +tottering shapes he wondered how on earth they had managed to +reach the long-boat that had brought them off. He caught +unceremoniously in his arms the smallest of these shapes and +carried it into the cabin, then without looking at his light +burden ran up again on deck to get the brig under way. While +shouting out orders he was dimly aware of someone hovering near +his elbow. It was Hassim. + +"I am not ready for war," he explained, rapidly, over his +shoulder, "and to-morrow there may be no wind." Afterward for a +time he forgot everybody and everything while he conned the brig +through the few outlying dangers. But in half an hour, and +running off with the wind on the quarter, he was quite clear of +the coast and breathed freely. It was only then that he +approached two others on that poop where he was accustomed in +moments of difficulty to commune alone with his craft. Hassim had +called his sister out of the cabin; now and then Lingard could +see them with fierce distinctness, side by side, and with twined +arms, looking toward the mysterious country that seemed at every +flash to leap away farther from the brig--unscathed and fading. + +The thought uppermost in Lingard's mind was: "What on earth am I +going to do with them?" And no one seemed to care what he would +do. Jaffir with eight others quartered on the main hatch, looked +to each other's wounds and conversed interminably in low tones, +cheerful and quiet, like well-behaved children. Each of them had +saved his kris, but Lingard had to make a distribution of cotton +cloth out of his trade-goods. Whenever he passed by them, they +all looked after him gravely. Hassim and Immada lived in the +cuddy. The chief's sister took the air only in the evening and +those two could be heard every night, invisible and murmuring in +the shadows of the quarter-deck. Every Malay on board kept +respectfully away from them. + +Lingard, on the poop, listened to the soft voices, rising and +falling, in a melancholy cadence; sometimes the woman cried out +as if in anger or in pain. He would stop short. The sound of a +deep sigh would float up to him on the stillness of the night. +Attentive stars surrounded the wandering brig and on all sides +their light fell through a vast silence upon a noiseless sea. +Lingard would begin again to pace the deck, muttering to himself. + +"Belarab's the man for this job. His is the only place where I +can look for help, but I don't think I know enough to find it. I +wish I had old Jorgenson here--just for ten minutes." + +This Jorgenson knew things that had happened a long time ago, and +lived amongst men efficient in meeting the accidents of the day, +but who did not care what would happen to-morrow and who had no +time to remember yesterday. Strictly speaking, he did not live +amongst them. He only appeared there from time to time. He lived +in the native quarter, with a native woman, in a native house +standing in the middle of a plot of fenced ground where grew +plantains, and furnished only with mats, cooking pots, a queer +fishing net on two sticks, and a small mahogany case with a lock +and a silver plate engraved with the words "Captain H. C. +Jorgenson. Barque Wild Rose." + +It was like an inscription on a tomb. The Wild Rose was dead, and +so was Captain H. C. Jorgenson, and the sextant case was all that +was left of them. Old Jorgenson, gaunt and mute, would turn up at +meal times on board any trading vessel in the Roads, and the +stewards --Chinamen or mulattos--would sulkily put on an extra +plate without waiting for orders. When the seamen traders +foregathered noisily round a glittering cluster of bottles and +glasses on a lighted verandah, old Jorgenson would emerge up the +stairs as if from a dark sea, and, stepping up with a kind of +tottering jauntiness, would help himself in the first tumbler to +hand. + +"I drink to you all. No--no chair." + +He would stand silent over the talking group. His taciturnity was +as eloquent as the repeated warning of the slave of the feast. +His flesh had gone the way of all flesh, his spirit had sunk in +the turmoil of his past, but his immense and bony frame survived +as if made of iron. His hands trembled but his eyes were steady. +He was supposed to know details about the end of mysterious men +and of mysterious enterprises. He was an evident failure himself, +but he was believed to know secrets that would make the fortune +of any man; yet there was also a general impression that his +knowledge was not of that nature which would make it profitable +for a moderately prudent person. + +This powerful skeleton, dressed in faded blue serge and without +any kind of linen, existed anyhow. Sometimes, if offered the job, +he piloted a home ship through the Straits of Rhio, after, +however, assuring the captain: + +"You don't want a pilot; a man could go through with his eyes +shut. But if you want me, I'll come. Ten dollars." + +Then, after seeing his charge clear of the last island of the +group he would go back thirty miles in a canoe, with two old +Malays who seemed to be in some way his followers. To travel +thirty miles at sea under the equatorial sun and in a cranky +dug-out where once down you must not move, is an achievement that +requires the endurance of a fakir and the virtue of a salamander. +Ten dollars was cheap and generally he was in demand. When times +were hard he would borrow five dollars from any of the +adventurers with the remark: + +"I can't pay you back, very soon, but the girl must eat, and if +you want to know anything, I can tell you." + +It was remarkable that nobody ever smiled at that "anything." The +usual thing was to say: + +"Thank you, old man; when I am pushed for a bit of information +I'll come to you." + +Jorgenson nodded then and would say: "Remember that unless you +young chaps are like we men who ranged about here years ago, what +I could tell you would be worse than poison." + +It was from Jorgenson, who had his favourites with whom he was +less silent, that Lingard had heard of Darat-es-Salam, the "Shore +of Refuge." Jorgenson had, as he expressed it, "known the inside +of that country just after the high old times when the white-clad +Padris preached and fought all over Sumatra till the Dutch shook +in their shoes." Only he did not say "shook" and "shoes" but the +above paraphrase conveys well enough his contemptuous meaning. +Lingard tried now to remember and piece together the practical +bits of old Jorgenson's amazing tales; but all that had remained +with him was an approximate idea of the locality and a very +strong but confused notion of the dangerous nature of its +approaches. He hesitated, and the brig, answering in her +movements to the state of the man's mind, lingered on the road, +seemed to hesitate also, swinging this way and that on the days +of calm. + +It was just because of that hesitation that a big New York ship, +loaded with oil in cases for Japan, and passing through the +Billiton passage, sighted one morning a very smart brig being +hove-to right in the fair-way and a little to the east of +Carimata. The lank skipper, in a frock-coat, and the big mate +with heavy moustaches, judged her almost too pretty for a +Britisher, and wondered at the man on board laying his topsail to +the mast for no reason that they could see. The big ship's sails +fanned her along, flapping in the light air, and when the brig +was last seen far astern she had still her mainyard aback as if +waiting for someone. But when, next day, a London tea-clipper +passed on the same track, she saw no pretty brig hesitating, all +white and still at the parting of the ways. All that night +Lingard had talked with Hassim while the stars streamed from east +to west like an immense river of sparks above their heads. Immada +listened, sometimes exclaiming low, sometimes holding her breath. +She clapped her hands once. A faint dawn appeared. + +"You shall be treated like my father in the country," Hassim was +saying. A heavy dew dripped off the rigging and the darkened +sails were black on the pale azure of the sky. "You shall be the +father who advises for good-- " + +"I shall be a steady friend, and as a friend I want to be +treated--no more," said Lingard. "Take back your ring." + +"Why do you scorn my gift?" asked Hassim, with a sad and ironic +smile. + +"Take it," said Lingard. "It is still mine. How can I forget +that, when facing death, you thought of my safety? There are many +dangers before us. We shall be often separated--to work better +for the same end. If ever you and Immada need help at once and I +am within reach, send me a message with this ring and if I am +alive I will not fail you." He looked around at the pale +daybreak. "I shall talk to Belarab straight--like we whites do. I +have never seen him, but I am a strong man. Belarab must help us +to reconquer your country and when our end is attained I won't +let him eat you up." + +Hassim took the ring and inclined his head. + +"It's time for us to be moving," said Lingard. He felt a slight +tug at his sleeve. He looked back and caught Immada in the act of +pressing her forehead to the grey flannel. "Don't, child!" he +said, softly. + +The sun rose above the faint blue line of the Shore of Refuge. + +The hesitation was over. The man and the vessel, working in +accord, had found their way to the faint blue shore. Before the +sun had descended half-way to its rest the brig was anchored +within a gunshot of the slimy mangroves, in a place where for a +hundred years or more no white man's vessel had been entrusted to +the hold of the bottom. The adventurers of two centuries ago had +no doubt known of that anchorage for they were very ignorant and +incomparably audacious. If it is true, as some say, that the +spirits of the dead haunt the places where the living have sinned +and toiled, then they might have seen a white long-boat, pulled +by eight oars and steered by a man sunburnt and bearded, a +cabbage-leaf hat on head, and pistols in his belt, skirting the +black mud, full of twisted roots, in search of a likely opening. + +Creek after creek was passed and the boat crept on slowly like a +monstrous water-spider with a big body and eight slender legs. . +. . Did you follow with your ghostly eyes the quest of this +obscure adventurer of yesterday, you shades of forgotten +adventurers who, in leather jerkins and sweating under steel +helmets, attacked with long rapiers the palisades of the strange +heathen, or, musket on shoulder and match in cock, guarded timber +blockhouses built upon the banks of rivers that command good +trade? You, who, wearied with the toil of fighting, slept wrapped +in frieze mantles on the sand of quiet beaches, dreaming of +fabulous diamonds and of a far-off home. + +"Here's an opening," said Lingard to Hassim, who sat at his side, +just as the sun was setting away to his left. "Here's an opening +big enough for a ship. It's the entrance we are looking for, I +believe. We shall pull all night up this creek if necessary and +it's the very devil if we don't come upon Belarab's lair before +daylight." + +He shoved the tiller hard over and the boat, swerving sharply, +vanished from the coast. + +And perhaps the ghosts of old adventurers nodded wisely their +ghostly heads and exchanged the ghost of a wistful smile. + + + +V + +"What's the matter with King Tom of late?" would ask someone +when, all the cards in a heap on the table, the traders lying +back in their chairs took a spell from a hard gamble. + +"Tom has learned to hold his tongue, he must be up to some dam' +good thing," opined another; while a man with hooked features and +of German extraction who was supposed to be agent for a Dutch +crockery house--the famous "Sphinx" mark--broke in resentfully: + +"Nefer mind him, shentlemens, he's matt, matt as a Marsh Hase. +Dree monats ago I call on board his prig to talk pizness. And he +says like dis--'Glear oudt.' 'Vat for?' I say. 'Glear oudt before +I shuck you oferboard.' Gott-for-dam! Iss dat the vay to talk +pizness? I vant sell him ein liddle case first chop grockery for +trade and--" + +"Ha, ha, ha! I don't blame Tom," interrupted the owner of a +pearling schooner, who had come into the Roads for stores. "Why, +Mosey, there isn't a mangy cannibal left in the whole of New +Guinea that hasn't got a cup and saucer of your providing. You've +flooded the market, savee?" + +Jorgenson stood by, a skeleton at the gaming table. + +"Because you are a Dutch spy," he said, suddenly, in an awful +tone. + +The agent of the Sphinx mark jumped up in a sudden fury. + +"Vat? Vat? Shentlemens, you all know me!" Not a muscle moved in +the faces around. "Know me," he stammered with wet lips. "Vat, +funf year--berfegtly acquaint--grockery-- Verfluchte sponsher. +Ich? Spy. Vat for spy? Vordamte English pedlars!" + +The door slammed. "Is that so?" asked a New England voice. "Why +don't you let daylight into him?" + +"Oh, we can't do that here," murmured one of the players. "Your +deal, Trench, let us get on." + +"Can't you?" drawled the New England voice. "You law-abiding, +get-a-summons, act-of--parliament lot of sons of Belial--can't +you? Now, look a-here, these Colt pistols I am selling--" He took +the pearler aside and could be heard talking earnestly in the +corner. "See--you load--and--see?" There were rapid clicks. +"Simple, isn't it? And if any trouble--say with your +divers"--CLICK, CLICK, CLICK--"Through and through--like a +sieve--warranted to cure the worst kind of cussedness in any +nigger. Yes, siree! A case of twenty-four or single specimens--as +you like. No? Shot-guns--rifles? No! Waal, I guess you're of no +use to me, but I could do a deal with that Tom--what d'ye call +him? Where d'ye catch him? Everywhere--eh? Waal--that's nowhere. +But I shall find him some day--yes, siree." + +Jorgenson, utterly disregarded, looked down dreamily at the +falling cards. "Spy--I tell you," he muttered to himself. "If you +want to know anything, ask me." + +When Lingard returned from Wajo--after an uncommonly long +absence--everyone remarked a great change. He was less talkative +and not so noisy, he was still hospitable but his hospitality was +less expansive, and the man who was never so happy as when +discussing impossibly wild projects with half a dozen congenial +spirits often showed a disinclination to meet his best friends. +In a word, he returned much less of a good fellow than he went +away. His visits to the Settlements were not less frequent, but +much shorter; and when there he was always in a hurry to be gone. + +During two years the brig had, in her way, as hard a life of it +as the man. Swift and trim she flitted amongst the islands of +little known groups. She could be descried afar from lonely +headlands, a white speck travelling fast over the blue sea; the +apathetic keepers of rare lighthouses dotting the great highway +to the east came to know the cut of her topsails. They saw her +passing east, passing west. They had faint glimpses of her flying +with masts aslant in the mist of a rain-squall, or could observe +her at leisure, upright and with shivering sails, forging ahead +through a long day of unsteady airs. Men saw her battling with a +heavy monsoon in the Bay of Bengal, lying becalmed in the Java +Sea, or gliding out suddenly from behind a point of land, +graceful and silent in the clear moonlight. Her activity was the +subject of excited but low-toned conversations, which would be +interrupted when her master appeared. + +"Here he is. Came in last night," whispered the gossiping group. + +Lingard did not see the covert glances of respect tempered by +irony; he nodded and passed on. + +"Hey, Tom! No time for a drink?" would shout someone. + +He would shake his head without looking back--far away already. + +Florid and burly he could be seen, for a day or two, getting out +of dusty gharries, striding in sunshine from the Occidental Bank +to the Harbour Office, crossing the Esplanade, disappearing down +a street of Chinese shops, while at his elbow and as tall as +himself, old Jorgenson paced along, lean and faded, obstinate and +disregarded, like a haunting spirit from the past eager to step +back into the life of men. + +Lingard ignored this wreck of an adventurer, sticking to him +closer than his shadow, and the other did not try to attract +attention. He waited patiently at the doors of offices, would +vanish at tiffin time, would invariably turn up again in the +evening and then he kept his place till Lingard went aboard for +the night. The police peons on duty looked disdainfully at the +phantom of Captain H. C. Jorgenson, Barque Wild Rose, wandering +on the silent quay or standing still for hours at the edge of the +sombre roadstead speckled by the anchor lights of ships--an +adventurous soul longing to recross the waters of oblivion. + +The sampan-men, sculling lazily homeward past the black hull of +the brig at anchor, could hear far into the night the drawl of +the New England voice escaping through the lifted panes of the +cabin skylight. Snatches of nasal sentences floated in the +stillness around the still craft. + +"Yes, siree! Mexican war rifles--good as new--six in a case--my +people in Baltimore--that's so. Hundred and twenty rounds thrown +in for each specimen--marked to suit your re-quirements. +Suppose--musical instruments, this side up with care--how's that +for your taste? No, no! Cash down--my people in Balt--Shooting +sea-gulls you say? Waal! It's a risky business--see here--ten per +cent. discount--it's out of my own pocket--" + +As time wore on, and nothing happened, at least nothing that one +could hear of, the excitement died out. Lingard's new attitude +was accepted as only "his way." There was nothing in it, +maintained some. Others dissented. A good deal of curiosity, +however, remained and the faint rumour of something big being in +preparation followed him into every harbour he went to, from +Rangoon to Hongkong. + +He felt nowhere so much at home as when his brig was anchored on +the inner side of the great stretch of shoals. The centre of his +life had shifted about four hundred miles--from the Straits of +Malacca to the Shore of Refuge--and when there he felt himself +within the circle of another existence, governed by his impulse, +nearer his desire. Hassim and Immada would come down to the coast +and wait for him on the islet. He always left them with regret. + +At the end of the first stage in each trip, Jorgenson waited for +him at the top of the boat-stairs and without a word fell into +step at his elbow. They seldom exchanged three words in a day; +but one evening about six months before Lingard's last trip, as +they were crossing the short bridge over the canal where native +craft lie moored in clusters, Jorgenson lengthened his stride and +came abreast. It was a moonlight night and nothing stirred on +earth but the shadows of high clouds. Lingard took off his hat +and drew in a long sigh in the tepid breeze. Jorgenson spoke +suddenly in a cautious tone: "The new Rajah Tulla smokes opium +and is sometimes dangerous to speak to. There is a lot of +discontent in Wajo amongst the big people." + +"Good! Good!" whispered Lingard, excitedly, off his guard for +once. Then--"How the devil do you know anything about it?" he +asked. + +Jorgenson pointed at the mass of praus, coasting boats, and +sampans that, jammed up together in the canal, lay covered with +mats and flooded by the cold moonlight with here and there a dim +lantern burning amongst the confusion of high sterns, spars, +masts and lowered sails. + +"There!" he said, as they moved on, and their hatted and clothed +shadows fell heavily on the queer-shaped vessels that carry the +fortunes of brown men upon a shallow sea. "There! I can sit with +them, I can talk to them, I can come and go as I like. They know +me now--it's time-thirty-five years. Some of them give a plate of +rice and a bit of fish to the white man. That's all I get--after +thirty-five years--given up to them." + +He was silent for a time. + +"I was like you once," he added, and then laying his hand on +Lingard's sleeve, murmured--"Are you very deep in this thing?" + +"To the very last cent," said Lingard, quietly, and looking +straight before him. + +The glitter of the roadstead went out, and the masts of anchored +ships vanished in the invading shadow of a cloud. + +"Drop it," whispered Jorgenson. + +"I am in debt," said Lingard, slowly, and stood still. + +"Drop it!" + +"Never dropped anything in my life." + +"Drop it!" + +"By God, I won't!" cried Lingard, stamping his foot. + +There was a pause. + +"I was like you--once," repeated Jorgenson. "Five and thirty +years--never dropped anything. And what you can do is only +child's play to some jobs I have had on my hands--understand +that--great man as you are, Captain Lingard of the Lightning. . . +. You should have seen the Wild Rose," he added with a sudden +break in his voice. + +Lingard leaned over the guard-rail of the pier. Jorgenson came +closer. + +"I set fire to her with my own hands!" he said in a vibrating +tone and very low, as if making a monstrous confession. + +"Poor devil," muttered Lingard, profoundly moved by the tragic +enormity of the act. "I suppose there was no way out?" + +"I wasn't going to let her rot to pieces in some Dutch port," +said Jorgenson, gloomily. "Did you ever hear of Dawson?" + +"Something--I don't remember now--" muttered Lingard, who felt a +chill down his back at the idea of his own vessel decaying slowly +in some Dutch port. "He died--didn't he?" he asked, absently, +while he wondered whether he would have the pluck to set fire to +the brig--on an emergency. + +"Cut his throat on the beach below Fort Rotterdam," said +Jorgenson. His gaunt figure wavered in the unsteady moonshine as +though made of mist. "Yes. He broke some trade regulation or +other and talked big about law-courts and legal trials to the +lieutenant of the Komet. 'Certainly,' says the hound. +'Jurisdiction of Macassar, I will take your schooner there.' Then +coming into the roads he tows her full tilt on a ledge of rocks +on the north side--smash! When she was half full of water he +takes his hat off to Dawson. 'There's the shore,' says he--'go +and get your legal trial, you -Englishman--'" He lifted a long +arm and shook his fist at the moon which dodged suddenly behind a +cloud. "All was lost. Poor Dawson walked the streets for months +barefooted and in rags. Then one day he begged a knife from some +charitable soul, went down to take a last look at the wreck, +and--" + +"I don't interfere with the Dutch," interrupted Lingard, +impatiently. "I want Hassim to get back his own--" + +"And suppose the Dutch want the things just so," returned +Jorgenson. "Anyway there is a devil in such work--drop it!" + +"Look here," said Lingard, "I took these people off when they +were in their last ditch. That means something. I ought not to +have meddled and it would have been all over in a few hours. I +must have meant something when I interfered, whether I knew it or +not. I meant it then--and did not know it. Very well. I mean it +now--and do know it. When you save people from death you take a +share in their life. That's how I look at it." + +Jorgenson shook his head. + +"Foolishness!" he cried, then asked softly in a voice that +trembled with curiosity--"Where did you leave them?" + +"With Belarab," breathed out Lingard. "You knew him in the old +days." + +"I knew him, I knew his father," burst out the other in an +excited whisper. "Whom did I not know? I knew Sentot when he was +King of the South Shore of Java and the Dutch offered a price for +his head--enough to make any man's fortune. He slept twice on +board the Wild Rose when things had begun to go wrong with him. I +knew him, I knew all his chiefs, the priests, the fighting men, +the old regent who lost heart and went over to the Dutch, I +knew--" he stammered as if the words could not come out, gave it +up and sighed--"Belarab's father escaped with me," he began +again, quietly, "and joined the Padris in Sumatra. He rose to be +a great leader. Belarab was a youth then. Those were the times. I +ranged the coast--and laughed at the cruisers; I saw every battle +fought in the Battak country--and I saw the Dutch run; I was at +the taking of Singal and escaped. I was the white man who advised +the chiefs of Manangkabo. There was a lot about me in the Dutch +papers at the time. They said I was a Frenchman turned +Mohammedan--" he swore a great oath, and, reeling against the +guard-rail, panted, muttering curses on newspapers. + +"Well, Belarab has the job in hand," said Lingard, composedly. +"He is the chief man on the Shore of Refuge. There are others, of +course. He has sent messages north and south. We must have men." + +"All the devils unchained," said Jorgenson. "You have done it and +now--look out--look out. . . ." + +"Nothing can go wrong as far as I can see," argued Lingard. "They +all know what's to be done. I've got them in hand. You don't +think Belarab unsafe? Do you?" + +"Haven't seen him for fifteen years--but the whole thing's +unsafe," growled Jorgenson. + +"I tell you I've fixed it so that nothing can go wrong. It would +be better if I had a white man over there to look after things +generally. There is a good lot of stores and arms--and Belarab +would bear watching--no doubt. Are you in any want?" he added, +putting his hand in his pocket. + +"No, there's plenty to eat in the house," answered Jorgenson, +curtly. "Drop it," he burst out. "It would be better for you to +jump overboard at once. Look at me. I came out a boy of eighteen. +I can speak English, I can speak Dutch, I can speak every cursed +lingo of these islands--I remember things that would make your +hair stand on end--but I have forgotten the language of my own +country. I've traded, I've fought, I never broke my word to white +or native. And, look at me. If it hadn't been for the girl I +would have died in a ditch ten years ago. Everything left +me--youth, money, strength, hope--the very sleep. But she stuck +by the wreck." + +"That says a lot for her and something for you," said Lingard, +cheerily. + +Jorgenson shook his head. + +"That's the worst of all," he said with slow emphasis. "That's +the end. I came to them from the other side of the earth and they +took me and--see what they made of me." + +"What place do you belong to?" asked Lingard. + +"Tromso," groaned out Jorgenson; "I will never see snow again," +he sobbed out, his face in his hands. + +Lingard looked at him in silence. + +"Would you come with me?" he said. "As I told you, I am in want +of a--" + +"I would see you damned first!" broke out the other, savagely. "I +am an old white loafer, but you don't get me to meddle in their +infernal affairs. They have a devil of their own--" + +"The thing simply can't fail. I've calculated every move. I've +guarded against everything. I am no fool." + +"Yes--you are. Good-night." + +"Well, good-bye," said Lingard, calmly. + +He stepped into his boat, and Jorgenson walked up the jetty. +Lingard, clearing the yoke lines, heard him call out from a +distance: + +"Drop it!" + +"I sail before sunrise," he shouted in answer, and went on board. + +When he came up from his cabin after an uneasy night, it was dark +yet. A lank figure strolled across the deck. + +"Here I am," said Jorgenson, huskily. "Die there or here--all +one. But, if I die there, remember the girl must eat." + +Lingard was one of the few who had seen Jorgenson's girl. She had +a wrinkled brown face, a lot of tangled grey hair, a few black +stumps of teeth, and had been married to him lately by an +enterprising young missionary from Bukit Timah. What her +appearance might have been once when Jorgenson gave for her three +hundred dollars and several brass guns, it was impossible to say. +All that was left of her youth was a pair of eyes, undimmed and +mournful, which, when she was alone, seemed to look stonily into +the past of two lives. When Jorgenson was near they followed his +movements with anxious pertinacity. And now within the sarong +thrown over the grey head they were dropping unseen tears while +Jorgenson's girl rocked herself to and fro, squatting alone in a +corner of the dark hut. + +"Don't you worry about that," said Lingard, grasping Jorgenson's +hand. "She shall want for nothing. All I expect you to do is to +look a little after Belarab's morals when I am away. One more +trip I must make, and then we shall be ready to go ahead. I've +foreseen every single thing. Trust me!" + +In this way did the restless shade of Captain H. C. Jorgenson +recross the water of oblivion to step back into the life of men. + + + +VI + +For two years, Lingard, who had thrown himself body and soul into +the great enterprise, had lived in the long intoxication of +slowly preparing success. No thought of failure had crossed his +mind, and no price appeared too heavy to pay for such a +magnificent achievement. It was nothing less than bringing Hassim +triumphantly back to that country seen once at night under the +low clouds and in the incessant tumult of thunder. When at the +conclusion of some long talk with Hassim, who for the twentieth +time perhaps had related the story of his wrongs and his +struggle, he lifted his big arm and shaking his fist above his +head, shouted: "We will stir them up. We will wake up the +country!" he was, without knowing it in the least, making a +complete confession of the idealism hidden under the simplicity +of his strength. He would wake up the country! That was the +fundamental and unconscious emotion on which were engrafted his +need of action, the primitive sense of what was due to justice, +to gratitude, to friendship, the sentimental pity for the hard +lot of Immada--poor child--the proud conviction that of all the +men in the world, in his world, he alone had the means and the +pluck "to lift up the big end" of such an adventure. + +Money was wanted and men were wanted, and he had obtained enough +of both in two years from that day when, pistols in his belt and +a cabbage-leaf hat on head, he had unexpectedly, and at early +dawn, confronted in perfect silence that mysterious Belarab, who +himself was for a moment too astounded for speech at the sight of +a white face. + +The sun had not yet cleared the forests of the interior, but a +sky already full of light arched over a dark oval lagoon, over +wide fields as yet full of shadows, that seemed slowly changing +into the whiteness of the morning mist. There were huts, fences, +palisades, big houses that, erected on lofty piles, were seen +above the tops of clustered fruit trees, as if suspended in the +air. + +Such was the aspect of Belarab's settlement when Lingard set his +eyes on it for the first time. There were all these things, a +great number of faces at the back of the spare and muffled-up +figure confronting him, and in the swiftly increasing light a +complete stillness that made the murmur of the word "Marhaba" +(welcome), pronounced at last by the chief, perfectly audible to +every one of his followers. The bodyguards who stood about him in +black skull-caps and with long-shafted lances, preserved an +impassive aspect. Across open spaces men could be seen running to +the waterside. A group of women standing on a low knoll gazed +intently, and nothing of them but the heads showed above the +unstirring stalks of a maize field. Suddenly within a cluster of +empty huts near by the voice of an invisible hag was heard +scolding with shrill fury an invisible young girl: + +"Strangers! You want to see the strangers? O devoid of all +decency! Must I so lame and old husk the rice alone? May evil +befall thee and the strangers! May they never find favour! May +they be pursued with swords! I am old. I am old. There is no good +in strangers! O girl! May they burn." + +"Welcome," repeated Belarab, gravely, and looking straight into +Lingard's eyes. + +Lingard spent six days that time in Belarab's settlement. Of +these, three were passed in observing each other without a +question being asked or a hint given as to the object in view. +Lingard lounged on the fine mats with which the chief had +furnished a small bamboo house outside a fortified enclosure, +where a white flag with a green border fluttered on a high and +slender pole but still below the walls of long, high-roofed +buildings, raised forty feet or more on hard-wood posts. + +Far away the inland forests were tinted a shimmering blue, like +the forests of a dream. On the seaward side the belt of great +trunks and matted undergrowth came to the western shore of the +oval lagoon; and in the pure freshness of the air the groups of +brown houses reflected in the water or seen above the waving +green of the fields, the clumps of palm trees, the fenced-in +plantations, the groves of fruit trees, made up a picture of +sumptuous prosperity. + +Above the buildings, the men, the women, the still sheet of water +and the great plain of crops glistening with dew, stretched the +exalted, the miraculous peace of a cloudless sky. And no road +seemed to lead into this country of splendour and stillness. One +could not believe the unquiet sea was so near, with its gifts and +its unending menace. Even during the months of storms, the great +clamour rising from the whitened expanse of the Shallows dwelt +high in the air in a vast murmur, now feeble now stronger, that +seemed to swing back and forth on the wind above the earth +without any one being able to tell whence it came. It was like +the solemn chant of a waterfall swelling and dying away above the +woods, the fields, above the roofs of houses and the heads of +men, above the secret peace of that hidden and flourishing +settlement of vanquished fanatics, fugitives, and outcasts. + +Every afternoon Belarab, followed by an escort that stopped +outside the door, entered alone the house of his guest. He gave +the salutation, inquired after his health, conversed about +insignificant things with an inscrutable mien. But all the time +the steadfast gaze of his thoughtful eyes seemed to seek the +truth within that white face. In the cool of the evening, before +the sun had set, they talked together, passing and repassing +between the rugged pillars of the grove near the gate of the +stockade. The escort away in the oblique sunlight, followed with +their eyes the strolling figures appearing and vanishing behind +the trees. Many words were pronounced, but nothing was said that +would disclose the thoughts of the two men. They clasped hands +demonstratively before separating, and the heavy slam of the gate +was followed by the triple thud of the wooden bars dropped into +iron clamps. + +On the third night, Lingard was awakened from a light sleep by +the sound of whispering outside. A black shadow obscured the +stars in the doorway, and a man entering suddenly, stood above +his couch while another could be seen squatting--a dark lump on +the threshold of the hut. + +"Fear not. I am Belarab," said a cautious voice. + +"I was not afraid," whispered Lingard. "It is the man coming in +the dark and without warning who is in danger." + +"And did you not come to me without warning? I said 'welcome'--it +was as easy for me to say 'kill him.'" + +"You were within reach of my arm. We would have died together," +retorted Lingard, quietly. + +The other clicked his tongue twice, and his indistinct shape +seemed to sink half-way through the floor. + +"It was not written thus before we were born," he said, sitting +cross-legged near the mats, and in a deadened voice. "Therefore +you are my guest. Let the talk between us be straight like the +shaft of a spear and shorter than the remainder of this night. +What do you want?" + +"First, your long life," answered Lingard, leaning forward toward +the gleam of a pair of eyes, "and then--your help." + + + +VII + +The faint murmur of the words spoken on that night lingered for a +long time in Lingard's ears, more persistent than the memory of +an uproar; he looked with a fixed gaze at the stars burning +peacefully in the square of the doorway, while after listening in +silence to all he had to say, Belarab, as if seduced by the +strength and audacity of the white man, opened his heart without +reserve. He talked of his youth surrounded by the fury of +fanaticism and war, of battles on the hills, of advances through +the forests, of men's unswerving piety, of their unextinguishable +hate. Not a single wandering cloud obscured the gentle splendour +of the rectangular patch of starlight framed in the opaque +blackness of the hut. Belarab murmured on of a succession of +reverses, of the ring of disasters narrowing round men's fading +hopes and undiminished courage. He whispered of defeat and +flight, of the days of despair, of the nights without sleep, of +unending pursuit, of the bewildered horror and sombre fury, of +their women and children killed in the stockade before the +besieged sallied forth to die. + +"I have seen all this before I was in years a man," he cried, +low. + +His voice vibrated. In the pause that succeeded they heard a +light sigh of the sleeping follower who, clasping his legs above +his ankles, rested his forehead on his knees. + +"And there was amongst us," began Belarab again, "one white man +who remained to the end, who was faithful with his strength, with +his courage, with his wisdom. A great man. He had great riches +but a greater heart." + +The memory of Jorgenson, emaciated and greyhaired, and trying to +borrow five dollars to get something to eat for the girl, passed +before Lingard suddenly upon the pacific glitter of the stars. + +"He resembled you," pursued Belarab, abruptly. "We escaped with +him, and in his ship came here. It was a solitude. The forest +came near to the sheet of water, the rank grass waved upon the +heads of tall men. Telal, my father, died of weariness; we were +only a few, and we all nearly died of trouble and sadness--here. +On this spot! And no enemies could tell where we had gone. It was +the Shore of Refuge--and starvation." + +He droned on in the night, with rising and falling inflections. +He told how his desperate companions wanted to go out and die +fighting on the sea against the ships from the west, the ships +with high sides and white sails; and how, unflinching and alone, +he kept them battling with the thorny bush, with the rank grass, +with the soaring and enormous trees. Lingard, leaning on his +elbow and staring through the door, recalled the image of the +wide fields outside, sleeping now, in an immensity of serenity +and starlight. This quiet and almost invisible talker had done it +all; in him was the origin, the creation, the fate; and in the +wonder of that thought the shadowy murmuring figure acquired a +gigantic greatness of significance, as if it had been the +embodiment of some natural force, of a force forever masterful +and undying. + +"And even now my life is unsafe as if I were their enemy," said +Belarab, mournfully. "Eyes do not kill, nor angry words; and +curses have no power, else the Dutch would not grow fat living on +our land, and I would not be alive to-night. Do you understand? +Have you seen the men who fought in the old days? They have not +forgotten the times of war. I have given them homes and quiet +hearts and full bellies. I alone. And they curse my name in the +dark, in each other's ears--because they can never forget." + +This man, whose talk had been of war and violence, discovered +unexpectedly a passionate craving for security and peace. No one +would understand him. Some of those who would not understand had +died. His white teeth gleamed cruelly in the dark. But there were +others he could not kill. The fools. He wanted the land and the +people in it to be forgotten as if they had been swallowed by the +sea. But they had neither wisdom nor patience. Could they not +wait? They chanted prayers five times every day, but they had not +the faith. + +"Death comes to all--and to the believers the end of trouble. But +you white men who are too strong for us, you also die. You die. +And there is a Paradise as great as all earth and all Heaven +together, but not for you--not for you!" + +Lingard, amazed, listened without a sound. The sleeper snored +faintly. Belarab continued very calm after this almost +involuntary outburst of a consoling belief. He explained that he +wanted somebody at his back, somebody strong and whom he could +trust, some outside force that would awe the unruly, that would +inspire their ignorance with fear, and make his rule secure. He +groped in the dark and seizing Lingard's arm above the elbow +pressed it with force--then let go. And Lingard understood why +his temerity had been so successful. + +Then and there, in return for Lingard's open support, a few guns +and a little money, Belarab promised his help for the conquest of +Wajo. There was no doubt he could find men who would fight. He +could send messages to friends at a distance and there were also +many unquiet spirits in his own district ready for any adventure. +He spoke of these men with fierce contempt and an angry +tenderness, in mingled accents of envy and disdain. He was +wearied by their folly, by their recklessness, by their +impatience--and he seemed to resent these as if they had been +gifts of which he himself had been deprived by the fatality of +his wisdom. They would fight. When the time came Lingard had only +to speak, and a sign from him would send them to a vain +death--those men who could not wait for an opportunity on this +earth or for the eternal revenge of Heaven. + +He ceased, and towered upright in the gloom. + +"Awake!" he exclaimed, low, bending over the sleeping man. + +Their black shapes, passing in turn, eclipsed for two successive +moments the glitter of the stars, and Lingard, who had not +stirred, remained alone. He lay back full length with an arm +thrown across his eyes. + +When three days afterward he left Belarab's settlement, it was on +a calm morning of unclouded peace. All the boats of the brig came +up into the lagoon armed and manned to make more impressive the +solemn fact of a concluded alliance. A staring crowd watched his +imposing departure in profound silence and with an increased +sense of wonder at the mystery of his apparition. The progress of +the boats was smooth and slow while they crossed the wide lagoon. +Lingard looked back once. A great stillness had laid its hand +over the earth, the sky, and the men; upon the immobility of +landscape and people. Hassim and Immada, standing out clearly by +the side of the chief, raised their arms in a last salutation; +and the distant gesture appeared sad, futile, lost in space, like +a sign of distress made by castaways in the vain hope of an +impossible help. + +He departed, he returned, he went away again, and each time those +two figures, lonely on some sandbank of the Shallows, made at him +the same futile sign of greeting or good-bye. Their arms at each +movement seemed to draw closer around his heart the bonds of a +protecting affection. He worked prosaically, earning money to pay +the cost of the romantic necessity that had invaded his life. And +the money ran like water out of his hands. The owner of the New +England voice remitted not a little of it to his people in +Baltimore. But import houses in the ports of the Far East had +their share. It paid for a fast prau which, commanded by Jaffir, +sailed into unfrequented bays and up unexplored rivers, carrying +secret messages, important news, generous bribes. A good part of +it went to the purchase of the Emma. + +The Emma was a battered and decrepit old schooner that, in the +decline of her existence, had been much ill-used by a paunchy +white trader of cunning and gluttonous aspect. This man boasted +outrageously afterward of the good price he had got "for that +rotten old hooker of mine--you know." The Emma left port +mysteriously in company with the brig and henceforth vanished +from the seas forever. Lingard had her towed up the creek and ran +her aground upon that shore of the lagoon farthest from Belarab's +settlement. There had been at that time a great rise of waters, +which retiring soon after left the old craft cradled in the mud, +with her bows grounded high between the trunks of two big trees, +and leaning over a little as though after a hard life she had +settled wearily to an everlasting rest. There, a few months +later, Jorgenson found her when, called back into the life of +men, he reappeared, together with Lingard, in the Land of Refuge. + +"She is better than a fort on shore," said Lingard, as side by +side they leant over the taffrail, looking across the lagoon on +the houses and palm groves of the settlement. "All the guns and +powder I have got together so far are stored in her. Good idea, +wasn't it? There will be, perhaps, no other such flood for years, +and now they can't come alongside unless right under the counter, +and only one boat at a time. I think you are perfectly safe here; +you could keep off a whole fleet of boats; she isn't easy to set +fire to; the forest in front is better than a wall. Well?" + +Jorgenson assented in grunts. He looked at the desolate emptiness +of the decks, at the stripped spars, at the dead body of the +dismantled little vessel that would know the life of the seas no +more. The gloom of the forest fell on her, mournful like a +winding sheet. The bushes of the bank tapped their twigs on the +bluff of her bows, and a pendent spike of tiny brown blossoms +swung to and fro over the ruins of her windlass. + +Hassim's companions garrisoned the old hulk, and Jorgenson, left +in charge, prowled about from stem to stern, taciturn and +anxiously faithful to his trust. He had been received with +astonishment, respect--and awe. Belarab visited him often. +Sometimes those whom he had known in their prime years ago, +during a struggle for faith and life, would come to talk with the +white man. Their voices were like the echoes of stirring events, +in the pale glamour of a youth gone by. They nodded their old +heads. Do you remember?--they said. He remembered only too well! +He was like a man raised from the dead, for whom the fascinating +trust in the power of life is tainted by the black scepticism of +the grave. + +Only at times the invincible belief in the reality of existence +would come back, insidious and inspiring. He squared his +shoulders, held himself straight, and walked with a firmer step. +He felt a glow within him and the quickened beat of his heart. +Then he calculated in silent excitement Lingard's chances of +success, and he lived for a time with the life of that other man +who knew nothing of the black scepticism of the grave. The +chances were good, very good. + +"I should like to see it through," Jorgenson muttered to himself +ardently; and his lustreless eyes would flash for a moment. + + + +PART III. THE CAPTURE + +I + +"Some people," said Lingard, "go about the world with their eyes +shut. You are right. The sea is free to all of us. Some work on +it, and some play the fool on it--and I don't care. Only you may +take it from me that I will let no man's play interfere with my +work. You want me to understand you are a very great man--" + +Mr. Travers smiled, coldly. + +"Oh, yes," continued Lingard, "I understand that well enough. But +remember you are very far from home, while I, here, I am where I +belong. And I belong where I am. I am just Tom Lingard, no more, +no less, wherever I happen to be, and--you may ask--" A sweep of +his hand along the western horizon entrusted with perfect +confidence the remainder of his speech to the dumb testimony of +the sea. + +He had been on board the yacht for more than an. hour, and +nothing, for him, had come of it but the birth of an unreasoning +hate. To the unconscious demand of these people's presence, of +their ignorance, of their faces, of their voices, of their eyes, +he had nothing to give but a resentment that had in it a germ of +reckless violence. He could tell them nothing because he had not +the means. Their coming at this moment, when he had wandered +beyond that circle which race, memories, early associations, all +the essential conditions of one's origin, trace round every man's +life, deprived him in a manner of the power of speech. He was +confounded. It was like meeting exacting spectres in a desert. + +He stared at the open sea, his arms crossed, with a reflective +fierceness. His very appearance made him utterly different from +everyone on board that vessel. The grey shirt, the blue sash, one +rolled-up sleeve baring a sculptural forearm, the negligent +masterfulness of his tone and pose were very distasteful to Mr. +Travers, who, having made up his mind to wait for some kind of +official assistance, regarded the intrusion of that inexplicable +man with suspicion. From the moment Lingard came on board the +yacht, every eye in that vessel had been fixed upon him. Only +Carter, within earshot and leaning with his elbow upon the rail, +stared down at the deck as if overcome with drowsiness or lost in +thought. + +Of the three other persons aft, Mr. Travers kept his hands in the +side pockets of his jacket and did not conceal his growing +disgust. + +On the other side of the deck, a lady, in a long chair, had a +passive attitude that to Mr. d'Alcacer, standing near her, seemed +characteristic of the manner in which she accepted the +necessities of existence. Years before, as an attache of his +Embassy in London, he had found her an interesting hostess. She +was even more interesting now, since a chance meeting and Mr. +Travers' offer of a passage to Batavia had given him an +opportunity of studying the various shades of scorn which he +suspected to be the secret of her acquiescence in the shallowness +of events and the monotony of a worldly existence. + +There were things that from the first he had not been able to +understand; for instance, why she should have married Mr. +Travers. It must have been from ambition. He could not help +feeling that such a successful mistake would explain completely +her scorn and also her acquiescence. The meeting in Manila had +been utterly unexpected to him, and he accounted for it to his +uncle, the Governor-General of the colony, by pointing out that +Englishmen, when worsted in the struggle of love or politics, +travel extensively, as if by encompassing a large portion of +earth's surface they hoped to gather fresh strength for a renewed +contest. As to himself, he judged--but did not say--that his +contest with fate was ended, though he also travelled, leaving +behind him in the capitals of Europe a story in which there was +nothing scandalous but the publicity of an excessive feeling, and +nothing more tragic than the early death of a woman whose +brilliant perfections were no better known to the great world +than the discreet and passionate devotion she had innocently +inspired. + +The invitation to join the yacht was the culminating point of +many exchanged civilities, and was mainly prompted by Mr. +Travers' desire to have somebody to talk to. D'Alcacer had +accepted with the reckless indifference of a man to whom one +method of flight from a relentless enemy is as good as another. +Certainly the prospect of listening to long monologues on +commerce, administration, and politics did not promise much +alleviation to his sorrow; and he could not expect much else from +Mr. Travers, whose life and thought, ignorant of human passion, +were devoted to extracting the greatest possible amount of +personal advantage from human institutions. D'Alcacer found, +however, that he could attain a measure of forgetfulness--the +most precious thing for him now--in the society of Edith Travers. + +She had awakened his curiosity, which he thought nothing and +nobody on earth could do any more. + +These two talked of things indifferent and interesting, certainly +not connected with human institutions, and only very slightly +with human passions; but d'Alcacer could not help being made +aware of her latent capacity for sympathy developed in those who +are disenchanted with life or death. How far she was disenchanted +he did not know, and did not attempt to find out. This restraint +was imposed upon him by the chivalrous respect he had for the +secrets of women and by a conviction that deep feeling is often +impenetrably obscure, even to those it masters for their +inspiration or their ruin. He believed that even she herself +would never know; but his grave curiosity was satisfied by the +observation of her mental state, and he was not sorry that the +stranding of the yacht prolonged his opportunity. + +Time passed on that mudbank as well as anywhere else, and it was +not from a multiplicity of events, but from the lapse of time +alone, that he expected relief. Yet in the sameness of days upon +the Shallows, time flowing ceaselessly, flowed imperceptibly; +and, since every man clings to his own, be it joy, be it grief, +he was pleased after the unrest of his wanderings to be able to +fancy the whole universe and even time itself apparently come to +a standstill; as if unwilling to take him away further from his +sorrow, which was fading indeed but undiminished, as things fade, +not in the distance but in the mist. + + +II + +D'Alcacer was a man of nearly forty, lean and sallow, with hollow +eyes and a drooping brown moustache. His gaze was penetrating and +direct, his smile frequent and fleeting. He observed Lingard with +great interest. He was attracted by that elusive something--a +line, a fold, perhaps the form of the eye, the droop of an +eyelid, the curve of a cheek, that trifling trait which on no two +faces on earth is alike, that in each face is the very foundation +of expression, as if, all the rest being heredity, mystery, or +accident, it alone had been shaped consciously by the soul +within. + +Now and then he bent slightly over the slow beat of a red fan in +the curve of the deck chair to say a few words to Mrs. Travers, +who answered him without looking up, without a modulation of tone +or a play of feature, as if she had spoken from behind the veil +of an immense indifference stretched between her and all men, +between her heart and the meaning of events, between her eyes and +the shallow sea which, like her gaze, appeared profound, forever +stilled, and seemed, far off in the distance of a faint horizon, +beyond the reach of eye, beyond the power of hand or voice, to +lose itself in the sky. + +Mr. Travers stepped aside, and speaking to Carter, overwhelmed +him with reproaches. + +"You misunderstood your instructions," murmured Mr. Travers +rapidly. "Why did you bring this man here? I am surprised--" + +"Not half so much as I was last night," growled the young seaman, +without any reverence in his tone, very provoking to Mr. Travers. + +"I perceive now you were totally unfit for the mission I +entrusted you with," went on the owner of the yacht. + +"It's he who got hold of me," said Carter. "Haven't you heard him +yourself, sir?" + +"Nonsense," whispered Mr. Travers, angrily. "Have you any idea +what his intentions may be?" + +"I half believe," answered Carter, "that his intention was to +shoot me in his cabin last night if I--" + +"That's not the point," interrupted Mr. Travers. "Have you any +opinion as to his motives in coming here?" + +Carter raised his weary, bloodshot eyes in a face scarlet and +peeling as though it had been licked by a flame. "I know no more +than you do, sir. Last night when he had me in that cabin of his, +he said he would just as soon shoot me as let me go to look for +any other help. It looks as if he were desperately bent upon +getting a lot of salvage money out of a stranded yacht." + +Mr. Travers turned away, and, for a moment, appeared immersed in +deep thought. This accident of stranding upon a deserted coast +was annoying as a loss of time. He tried to minimize it by +putting in order the notes collected during the year's travel in +the East. He had sent off for assistance; his sailing-master, +very crestfallen, made bold to say that the yacht would most +likely float at the next spring tides; d'Alcacer, a person of +undoubted nobility though of inferior principles, was better than +no company, in so far at least that he could play picquet. + +Mr. Travers had made up his mind to wait. Then suddenly this +rough man, looking as if he had stepped out from an engraving in +a book about buccaneers, broke in upon his resignation with +mysterious allusions to danger, which sounded absurd yet were +disturbing; with dark and warning sentences that sounded like +disguised menaces. + +Mr. Travers had a heavy and rather long chin which he shaved. His +eyes were blue, a chill, naive blue. He faced Lingard untouched +by travel, without a mark of weariness or exposure, with the air +of having been born invulnerable. He had a full, pale face; and +his complexion was perfectly colourless, yet amazingly fresh, as +if he had been reared in the shade. + +He thought: + +"I must put an end to this preposterous hectoring. I won't be +intimidated into paying for services I don't need." + +Mr. Travers felt a strong disgust for the impudence of the +attempt; and all at once, incredibly, strangely, as though the +thing, like a contest with a rival or a friend, had been of +profound importance to his career, he felt inexplicably elated at +the thought of defeating the secret purposes of that man. + +Lingard, unconscious of everything and everybody, contemplated +the sea. He had grown on it, he had lived with it; it had enticed +him away from home; on it his thoughts had expanded and his hand +had found work to do. It had suggested endeavour, it had made him +owner and commander of the finest brig afloat; it had lulled him +into a belief in himself, in his strength, in his luck--and +suddenly, by its complicity in a fatal accident, it had brought +him face to face with a difficulty that looked like the beginning +of disaster. + +He had said all he dared to say--and he perceived that he was not +believed. This had not happened to him for years. It had never +happened. It bewildered him as if he had suddenly discovered that +he was no longer himself. He had come to them and had said: "I +mean well by you. I am Tom Lingard--" and they did not believe! +Before such scepticism he was helpless, because he had never +imagined it possible. He had said: "You are in the way of my +work. You are in the way of what I can not give up for any one; +but I will see you through all safe if you will only trust me-- +me, Tom Lingard." And they would not believe him! It was +intolerable. He imagined himself sweeping their disbelief out of +his way. And why not? He did not know them, he did not care for +them, he did not even need to lift his hand against them! All he +had to do was to shut his eyes now for a day or two, and +afterward he could forget that he had ever seen them. It would be +easy. Let their disbelief vanish, their folly disappear, their +bodies perish. . . . It was that--or ruin! + + + +III + +Lingard's gaze, detaching itself from the silent sea, travelled +slowly over the silent figures clustering forward, over the faces +of the seamen attentive and surprised, over the faces never seen +before yet suggesting old days--his youth--other seas--the +distant shores of early memories. Mr. Travers gave a start also, +and the hand which had been busy with his left whisker went into +the pocket of his jacket, as though he had plucked out something +worth keeping. He made a quick step toward Lingard. + +"I don't see my way to utilize your services," he said, with cold +finality. + +Lingard, grasping his beard, looked down at him thoughtfully for +a short time. + +"Perhaps it's just as well," he said, very slowly, "because I did +not offer my services. I've offered to take you on board my brig +for a few days, as your only chance of safety. And you asked me +what were my motives. My motives! If you don't see them they are +not for you to know." + +And these men who, two hours before had never seen each other, +stood for a moment close together, antagonistic, as if they had +been life-long enemies, one short, dapper and glaring upward, the +other towering heavily, and looking down in contempt and anger. + +Mr. d'Alcacer, without taking his eyes off them, bent low over +the deck chair. + +"Have you ever seen a man dashing himself at a stone wall?" he +asked, confidentially. + +"No," said Mrs. Travers, gazing straight before her above the +slow flutter of the fan. "No, I did not know it was ever done; +men burrow under or slip round quietly while they look the other +way." + +"Ah! you define diplomacy," murmured d'Alcacer. "A little of it +here would do no harm. But our picturesque visitor has none of +it. I've a great liking for him." + +"Already!" breathed out Mrs. Travers, with a smile that touched +her lips with its bright wing and was flown almost before it +could be seen. + +"There is liking at first sight," affirmed d'Alcacer, "as well as +love at first sight--the coup de foudre--you know." + +She looked up for a moment, and he went on, gravely: "I think it +is the truest, the most profound of sentiments. You do not love +because of what is in the other. You love because of something +that is in you--something alive--in yourself." He struck his +breast lightly with the tip of one finger. "A capacity in you. +And not everyone may have it--not everyone deserves to be touched +by fire from heaven." + +"And die," she said. + +He made a slight movement. + +"Who can tell? That is as it may be. But it is always a +privilege, even if one must live a little after being burnt." + +Through the silence between them, Mr. Travers' voice came +plainly, saying with irritation: + +"I've told you already that I do not want you. I've sent a +messenger to the governor of the Straits. Don't be importunate." + +Then Lingard, standing with his back to them, growled out +something which must have exasperated Mr. Travers, because his +voice was pitched higher: + +"You are playing a dangerous game, I warn you. Sir John, as it +happens, is a personal friend of mine. He will send a cruiser--" +and Lingard interrupted recklessly loud: + +"As long as she does not get here for the next ten days, I don't +care. Cruisers are scarce just now in the Straits; and to turn my +back on you is no hanging matter anyhow. I would risk that, and +more! Do you hear? And more!" + +He stamped his foot heavily, Mr. Travers stepped back. + +"You will gain nothing by trying to frighten me," he said. "I +don't know who you are." + +Every eye in the yacht was wide open. The men, crowded upon each +other, stared stupidly like a flock of sheep. Mr. Travers pulled +out a handkerchief and passed it over his forehead. The face of +the sailing-master who leaned against the main mast--as near as +he dared to approach the gentry--was shining and crimson between +white whiskers, like a glowing coal between two patches of snow. + +D'Alcacer whispered: + +"It is a quarrel, and the picturesque man is angry. He is hurt." + +Mrs. Travers' fan rested on her knees, and she sat still as if +waiting to hear more. + +"Do you think I ought to make an effort for peace?" asked +d'Alcacer. + +She did not answer, and after waiting a little, he insisted: + +"What is your opinion? Shall I try to mediate--as a neutral, as a +benevolent neutral? I like that man with the beard." + +The interchange of angry phrases went on aloud, amidst general +consternation. + +"I would turn my back on you only I am thinking of these poor +devils here," growled Lingard, furiously. "Did you ask them how +they feel about it?" + +"I ask no one," spluttered Mr. Travers. "Everybody here depends +on my judgment." + +"I am sorry for them then," pronounced Lingard with sudden +deliberation, and leaning forward with his arms crossed on his +breast. + +At this Mr. Travers positively jumped, and forgot himself so far +as to shout: + +"You are an impudent fellow. I have nothing more to say to you." + +D'Alcacer, after muttering to himself, "This is getting serious," +made a movement, and could not believe his ears when he heard +Mrs. Travers say rapidly with a kind of fervour: + +"Don't go, pray; don't stop them. Oh! This is truth--this is +anger--something real at last." + +D'Alcacer leaned back at once against the rail. + +Then Mr. Travers, with one arm extended, repeated very loudly: + +"Nothing more to say. Leave my ship at once!" + +And directly the black dog, stretched at his wife's feet, muzzle +on paws and blinking yellow eyes, growled discontentedly at the +noise. Mrs. Travers laughed a faint, bright laugh, that seemed to +escape, to glide, to dart between her white teeth. D'Alcacer, +concealing his amazement, was looking down at her gravely: and +after a slight gasp, she said with little bursts of merriment +between every few words: + +"No, but this is--such--such a fresh experience for me to +hear--to see something--genuine and human. Ah! ah! one would +think they had waited all their lives for this opportunity--ah! +ah! ah! All their lives--for this! ah! ah! ah!" + +These strange words struck d'Alcacer as perfectly just, as +throwing an unexpected light. But after a smile, he said, +seriously: + +"This reality may go too far. A man who looks so picturesque is +capable of anything. Allow me--" And he left her side, moving +toward Lingard, loose-limbed and gaunt, yet having in his whole +bearing, in his walk, in every leisurely movement, an air of +distinction and ceremony. + +Lingard spun round with aggressive mien to the light touch on his +shoulder, but as soon as he took his eyes off Mr. Travers, his +anger fell, seemed to sink without a sound at his feet like a +rejected garment. + +"Pardon me," said d'Alcacer, composedly. The slight wave of his +hand was hardly more than an indication, the beginning of a +conciliating gesture. "Pardon me; but this is a matter requiring +perfect confidence on both sides. Don Martin, here, who is a +person of importance. . . ." + +"I've spoken my mind plainly. I have said as much as I dare. On +my word I have," declared Lingard with an air of good temper. + +"Ah!" said d'Alcacer, reflectively, "then your reserve is a +matter of pledged faith--of--of honour?" + +Lingard also appeared thoughtful for a moment. + +"You may put it that way. And I owe nothing to a man who couldn't +see my hand when I put it out to him as I came aboard." + +"You have so much the advantage of us here," replied d'Alcacer, +"that you may well be generous and forget that oversight; and +then just a little more confidence. . . ." + +"My dear d'Alcacer, you are absurd," broke in Mr. Travers, in a +calm voice but with white lips. "I did not come out all this way +to shake hands promiscuously and receive confidences from the +first adventurer that comes along." + +D'Alcacer stepped back with an almost imperceptible inclination +of the head at Lingard, who stood for a moment with twitching +face. + +"I AM an adventurer," he burst out, "and if I hadn't been an +adventurer, I would have had to starve or work at home for such +people as you. If I weren't an adventurer, you would be most +likely lying dead on this deck with your cut throat gaping at the +sky." + +Mr. Travers waved this speech away. But others also had heard. +Carter listened watchfully and something, some alarming notion +seemed to dawn all at once upon the thick little sailing-master, +who rushed on his short legs, and tugging at Carter's sleeve, +stammered desperately: + +"What's he saying? Who's he? What's up? Are the natives +unfriendly? My book says--'Natives friendly all along this +coast!' My book says--" + +Carter, who had glanced over the side, jerked his arm free. + +"You go down into the pantry, where you belong, Skipper, and read +that bit about the natives over again," he said to his superior +officer, with savage contempt. "I'll be hanged if some of them +ain't coming aboard now to eat you--book and all. Get out of the +way, and let the gentlemen have the first chance of a row." + +Then addressing Lingard, he drawled in his old way: + +"That crazy mate of yours has sent your boat back, with a couple +of visitors in her, too." + +Before he apprehended plainly the meaning of these words, Lingard +caught sight of two heads rising above the rail, the head of +Hassim and the head of Immada. Then their bodies ascended into +view as though these two beings had gradually emerged from the +Shallows. They stood for a moment on the platform looking down on +the deck as if about to step into the unknown, then descended and +walking aft entered the half-light under the awning shading the +luxurious surroundings, the complicated emotions of the, to them, +inconceivable existences. + +Lingard without waiting a moment cried: + +"What news, O Rajah?" + +Hassim's eyes made the round of the schooner's decks. He had left +his gun in the boat and advanced empty handed, with a tranquil +assurance as if bearing a welcome offering in the faint smile of +his lips. Immada, half hidden behind his shoulder, followed +lightly, her elbows pressed close to her side. The thick fringe +of her eyelashes was dropped like a veil; she looked youthful and +brooding; she had an aspect of shy resolution. + +They stopped within arm's length of the whites, and for some time +nobody said a word. Then Hassim gave Lingard a significant +glance, and uttered rapidly with a slight toss of the head that +indicated in a manner the whole of the yacht: + +"I see no guns!" + +"N--no!" said Lingard, looking suddenly confused. It had occurred +to him that for the first time in two years or more he had +forgotten, utterly forgotten, these people's existence. + +Immada stood slight and rigid with downcast eyes. Hassim, at his +ease, scrutinized the faces, as if searching for elusive points +of similitude or for subtle shades of difference. + +"What is this new intrusion?" asked Mr. Travers, angrily. + +"These are the fisher-folk, sir," broke in the sailing-master, +"we've observed these three days past flitting about in a canoe; +but they never had the sense to answer our hail; and yet a bit of +fish for your breakfast--" He smiled obsequiously, and all at +once, without provocation, began to bellow: + +"Hey! Johnnie! Hab got fish? Fish! One peecee fish! Eh? Savee? +Fish! Fish--" He gave it up suddenly to say in a deferential +tone--"Can't make them savages understand anything, sir," and +withdrew as if after a clever feat. + +Hassim looked at Lingard. + +"Why did the little white man make that outcry?" he asked, +anxiously. + +"Their desire is to eat fish," said Lingard in an enraged tone. + +Then before the air of extreme surprise which incontinently +appeared on the other's face, he could not restrain a short and +hopeless laugh. + +"Eat fish," repeated Hassim, staring. "O you white people! O you +white people! Eat fish! Good! But why make that noise? And why +did you send them here without guns?" After a significant glance +down upon the slope of the deck caused by the vessel being on the +ground, he added with a slight nod at Lingard--"And without +knowledge?" + +"You should not have come here, O Hassim," said Lingard, testily. +"Here no one understands. They take a rajah for a fisherman--" + +"Ya-wa! A great mistake, for, truly, the chief of ten fugitives +without a country is much less than the headman of a fishing +village," observed Hassim, composedly. Immada sighed. "But you, +Tuan, at least know the truth," he went on with quiet irony; then +after a pause --"We came here because you had forgotten to look +toward us, who had waited, sleeping little at night, and in the +day watching with hot eyes the empty water at the foot of the sky +for you." + +Immada murmured, without lifting her head: + +"You never looked for us. Never, never once." + +"There was too much trouble in my eyes," explained Lingard with +that patient gentleness of tone and face which, every time he +spoke to the young girl, seemed to disengage itself from his +whole person, enveloping his fierceness, softening his aspect, +such as the dreamy mist that in the early radiance of the morning +weaves a veil of tender charm about a rugged rock in mid-ocean. +"I must look now to the right and to the left as in a time of +sudden danger," he added after a moment and she whispered an +appalled "Why?" so low that its pain floated away in the silence +of attentive men, without response, unheard, ignored, like the +pain of an impalpable thought. + + + +IV + +D'Alcacer, standing back, surveyed them all with a profound and +alert attention. Lingard seemed unable to tear himself away from +the yacht, and remained, checked, as it were in the act of going, +like a man who has stopped to think out the last thing to say; +and that stillness of a body, forgotten by the labouring mind, +reminded Carter of that moment in the cabin, when alone he had +seen this man thus wrestling with his thought, motionless and +locked in the grip of his conscience. + +Mr. Travers muttered audibly through his teeth: + +"How long is this performance going to last? I have desired you +to go." + +"Think of these poor devils," whispered Lingard, with a quick +glance at the crew huddled up near by. + +"You are the kind of man I would be least disposed to trust--in +any case," said Mr. Travers, incisively, very low, and with an +inexplicable but very apparent satisfaction. "You are only +wasting your time here." + +"You--You--" He stammered and stared. He chewed with growls some +insulting word and at last swallowed it with an effort. "My time +pays for your life," he said. + +He became aware of a sudden stir, and saw that Mrs. Travers had +risen from her chair. + +She walked impulsively toward the group on the quarter-deck, +making straight for Immada. Hassim had stepped aside and his +detached gaze of a Malay gentleman passed by her as if she had +been invisible. + +She was tall, supple, moving freely. Her complexion was so +dazzling in the shade that it seemed to throw out a halo round +her head. Upon a smooth and wide brow an abundance of pale fair +hair, fine as silk, undulating like the sea, heavy like a helmet, +descended low without a trace of gloss, without a gleam in its +coils, as though it had never been touched by a ray of light; and +a throat white, smooth, palpitating with life, a round neck +modelled with strength and delicacy, supported gloriously that +radiant face and that pale mass of hair unkissed by sunshine. + +She said with animation: + +"Why, it's a girl!" + +Mrs. Travers extorted from d'Alcacer a fresh tribute of +curiosity. A strong puff of wind fluttered the awnings and one of +the screens blowing out wide let in upon the quarter-deck the +rippling glitter of the Shallows, showing to d'Alcacer the +luminous vastness of the sea, with the line of the distant +horizon, dark like the edge of the encompassing night, drawn at +the height of Mrs. Travers' shoulder. . . . Where was it he had +seen her last--a long time before, on the other side of the +world? There was also the glitter of splendour around her then, +and an impression of luminous vastness. The encompassing night, +too, was there, the night that waits for its time to move forward +upon the glitter, the splendour, the men, the women. + +He could not remember for the moment, but he became convinced +that of all the women he knew, she alone seemed to be made for +action. Every one of her movements had firmness, ease, the +meaning of a vital fact, the moral beauty of a fearless +expression. Her supple figure was not dishonoured by any +faltering of outlines under the plain dress of dark blue stuff +moulding her form with bold simplicity. + +She had only very few steps to make, but before she had stopped, +confronting Immada, d'Alcacer remembered her suddenly as he had +seen her last, out West, far away, impossibly different, as if in +another universe, as if presented by the fantasy of a fevered +memory. He saw her in a luminous perspective of palatial drawing +rooms, in the restless eddy and flow of a human sea, at the foot +of walls high as cliffs, under lofty ceilings that like a +tropical sky flung light and heat upon the shallow glitter of +uniforms, of stars, of diamonds, of eyes sparkling in the weary +or impassive faces of the throng at an official reception. +Outside he had found the unavoidable darkness with its aspect of +patient waiting, a cloudy sky holding back the dawn of a London +morning. It was difficult to believe. + +Lingard, who had been looking dangerously fierce, slapped his +thigh and showed signs of agitation. + +"By heavens, I had forgotten all about you!" he pronounced in +dismay. + +Mrs. Travers fixed her eyes on Immada. Fairhaired and white she +asserted herself before the girl of olive face and raven locks +with the maturity of perfection, with the superiority of the +flower over the leaf, of the phrase that contains a thought over +the cry that can only express an emotion. Immense spaces and +countless centuries stretched between them: and she looked at her +as when one looks into one's own heart with absorbed curiosity, +with still wonder, with an immense compassion. Lingard murmured, +warningly: + +"Don't touch her." + +Mrs. Travers looked at him. + +"Do you think I could hurt her?" she asked, softly, and was so +startled to hear him mutter a gloomy "Perhaps," that she +hesitated before she smiled. + +"Almost a child! And so pretty! What a delicate face," she said, +while another deep sigh of the sea breeze lifted and let fall the +screens, so that the sound, the wind, and the glitter seemed to +rush in together and bear her words away into space. "I had no +idea of anything so charmingly gentle," she went on in a voice +that without effort glowed, caressed, and had a magic power of +delight to the soul. "So young! And she lives here--does she? On +the sea--or where? Lives--" Then faintly, as if she had been in +the act of speaking, removed instantly to a great distance, she +was heard again: "How does she live?" + +Lingard had hardly seen Edith Travers till then. He had seen no +one really but Mr. Travers. .He looked and listened with +something of the stupor of a new sensation. + +Then he made a distinct effort to collect his thoughts and said +with a remnant of anger: + +"What have you got to do with her? She knows war. Do you know +anything about it? And hunger, too, and thirst, and unhappiness; +things you have only heard about. She has been as near death as I +am to you--and what is all that to any of you here?" + +"That child!" she said in slow wonder. + +Immada turned upon Mrs. Travers her eyes black as coal, sparkling +and soft like a tropical night; and the glances of the two women, +their dissimilar and inquiring glances met, seemed to touch, +clasp, hold each other with the grip of an intimate contact. They +separated. + +"What are they come for? Why did you show them the way to this +place?" asked Immada, faintly. + +Lingard shook his head in denial. + +"Poor girl," said Mrs. Travers. "Are they all so pretty?" + +"Who-all?" mumbled Lingard. "There isn't an other one like her if +you were to ransack the islands all round the compass." + +"Edith!" ejaculated Mr. Travers in a remonstrating, acrimonious +voice, and everyone gave him a look of vague surprise. + +Then Mrs. Travers asked: + +"Who is she?" + +Lingard very red and grave declared curtly: + +"A princess." + +Immediately he looked round with suspicion. No one smiled. +D'Alcacer, courteous and nonchalant, lounged up close to Mrs. +Travers' elbow. + +"If she is a princess, then this man is a knight," he murmured +with conviction. "A knight as I live! A descendant of the +immortal hidalgo errant upon the sea. It would be good for us to +have him for a friend. Seriously I think that you ought--" + +The two stepped aside and spoke low and hurriedly. + +"Yes, you ought--" + +"How can I?" she interrupted, catching the meaning like a ball. + +"By saying something." + +"Is it really necessary?" she asked, doubtfully. + +"It would do no harm," said d'Alcacer with sudden carelessness; +"a friend is always better than an enemy." + +"Always?" she repeated, meaningly. "But what could I say?" + +"Some words," he answered; "I should think any words in your +voice--" + +"Mr. d'Alcacer!" + +"Or you could perhaps look at him once or twice as though he were +not exactly a robber," he continued. + +"Mr. d'Alcacer, are you afraid?" + +"Extremely," he said, stooping to pick up the fan at her feet. +"That is the reason I am so anxious to conciliate. And you must +not forget that one of your queens once stepped on the cloak of +perhaps such a man." + +Her eyes sparkled and she dropped them suddenly. + +"I am not a queen," she said, coldly. + +"Unfortunately not," he admitted; "but then the other was a woman +with no charm but her crown." + +At that moment Lingard, to whom Hassim had been talking +earnestly, protested aloud: + +"I never saw these people before." + +Immada caught hold of her brother's arm. Mr. Travers said +harshly: + +"Oblige me by taking these natives away." + +"Never before," murmured Immada as if lost in ecstasy. D'Alcacer +glanced at Mrs. Travers and made a step forward. + +"Could not the difficulty, whatever it is, be arranged, Captain?" +he said with careful politeness. "Observe that we are not only +men here--" + +"Let them die!" cried Immada, triumphantly. + +Though Lingard alone understood the meaning of these words, all +on board felt oppressed by the uneasy silence which followed her +cry. + +"Ah! He is going. Now, Mrs. Travers," whispered d'Alcacer. + +"I hope!" said Mrs. Travers, impulsively, and stopped as if +alarmed at the sound. + +Lingard stood still. + +"I hope," she began again, "that this poor girl will know happier +days--" She hesitated. + +Lingard waited, attentive and serious. + +"Under your care," she finished. "And I believe you meant to be +friendly to us." + +"Thank you," said Lingard with dignity. + +"You and d'Alcacer," observed Mr. Travers, austerely, "are +unnecessarily detaining this--ah--person, and--ah--friends--ah!" + +"I had forgotten you--and now--what? One must--it is +hard--hard--" went on Lingard, disconnectedly, while he looked +into Mrs. Travers' violet eyes, and felt his mind overpowered and +troubled as if by the contemplation of vast distances. "I--you +don't know--I--you--cannot . . . Ha! It's all that man's doing," +he burst out. + +For a time, as if beside himself, he glared at Mrs. Travers, then +flung up one arm and strode off toward the gangway, where Hassim +and Immada waited for him, interested and patient. With a single +word "Come," he preceded them down into the boat. Not a sound was +heard on the yacht's deck, while these three disappeared one +after another below the rail as if they had descended into the +sea. + + + +V + +The afternoon dragged itself out in silence. Mrs. Travers sat +pensive and idle with her fan on her knees. D'Alcacer, who +thought the incident should have been treated in a conciliatory +spirit, attempted to communicate his view to his host, but that +gentleman, purposely misunderstanding his motive, overwhelmed him +with so many apologies and expressions of regret at the irksome +and perhaps inconvenient delay "which you suffer from through +your good-natured acceptance of our invitation" that the other +was obliged to refrain from pursuing the subject further. + +"Even my regard for you, my dear d'Alcacer, could not induce me +to submit to such a bare-faced attempt at extortion," affirmed +Mr. Travers with uncompromising virtue. "The man wanted to force +his services upon me, and then put in a heavy claim for salvage. +That is the whole secret--you may depend on it. I detected him at +once, of course." The eye-glass glittered perspicuously. "He +underrated my intelligence; and what a violent scoundrel! The +existence of such a man in the time we live in is a scandal." + +D'Alcacer retired, and, full of vague forebodings, tried in vain +for hours to interest himself in a book. Mr. Travers walked up +and down restlessly, trying to persuade himself that his +indignation was based on purely moral grounds. The glaring day, +like a mass of white-hot iron withdrawn from the fire, was losing +gradually its heat and its glare in a richer deepening of tone. +At the usual time two seamen, walking noiselessly aft in their +yachting shoes, rolled up in silence the quarter-deck screens; +and the coast, the shallows, the dark islets and the snowy +sandbanks uncovered thus day after day were seen once more in +their aspect of dumb watchfulness. The brig, swung end on in the +foreground, her squared yards crossing heavily the soaring +symmetry of the rigging, resembled a creature instinct with life, +with the power of springing into action lurking in the light +grace of its repose. + +A pair of stewards in white jackets with brass buttons appeared +on deck and began to flit about without a sound, laying the table +for dinner on the flat top of the cabin skylight. The sun, +drifting away toward other lands, toward other seas, toward other +men; the sun, all red in a cloudless sky raked the yacht with a +parting salvo of crimson rays that shattered themselves into +sparks of fire upon the crystal and silver of the dinner-service, +put a short flame into the blades of knives, and spread a rosy +tint over the white of plates. A trail of purple, like a smear of +blood on a blue shield, lay over the sea. + +On sitting down Mr. Travers alluded in a vexed tone to the +necessity of living on preserves, all the stock of fresh +provisions for the passage to Batavia having been already +consumed. It was distinctly unpleasant. + +"I don't travel for my pleasure, however," he added; "and the +belief that the sacrifice of my time and comfort will be +productive of some good to the world at large would make up for +any amount of privations." + +Mrs. Travers and d'Alcacer seemed unable to shake off a strong +aversion to talk, and the conversation, like an expiring breeze, +kept on dying out repeatedly after each languid gust. The large +silence of the horizon, the profound repose of all things +visible, enveloping the bodies and penetrating the souls with +their quieting influence, stilled thought as well as voice. For a +long time no one spoke. Behind the taciturnity of the masters the +servants hovered without noise. + +Suddenly, Mr. Travers, as if concluding a train of thought, +muttered aloud: + +"I own with regret I did in a measure lose my temper; but then +you will admit that the existence of such a man is a disgrace to +civilization." + +This remark was not taken up and he returned for a time to the +nursing of his indignation, at the bottom of which, like a +monster in a fog, crept a bizarre feeling of rancour. He waved +away an offered dish. + +"This coast," he began again, "has been placed under the sole +protection of Holland by the Treaty of 1820. The Treaty of 1820 +creates special rights and obligations. . . ." + +Both his hearers felt vividly the urgent necessity to hear no +more. D'Alcacer, uncomfortable on a campstool, sat stiff and +stared at the glass stopper of a carafe. Mrs. Travers turned a +little sideways and leaning on her elbow rested her head on the +palm of her hand like one thinking about matters of profound +import. Mr. Travers talked; he talked inflexibly, in a harsh +blank voice, as if reading a proclamation. The other two, as if +in a state of incomplete trance, had their ears assailed by +fragments of official verbiage. + +"An international understanding--the duty to civilize--failed to +carry out--compact--Canning--" D'Alcacer became attentive for a +moment. "--not that this attempt, almost amusing in its +impudence, influences my opinion. I won't admit the possibility +of any violence being offered to people of our position. It is +the social aspect of such an incident I am desirous of +criticising." + +Here d'Alcacer lost himself again in the recollection of Mrs. +Travers and Immada looking at each other--the beginning and the +end, the flower and the leaf, the phrase and the cry. Mr. +Travers' voice went on dogmatic and obstinate for a long time. +The end came with a certain vehemence. + +"And if the inferior race must perish, it is a gain, a step +toward the perfecting of society which is the aim of progress." + +He ceased. The sparks of sunset in crystal and silver had gone +out, and around the yacht the expanse of coast and Shallows +seemed to await, unmoved, the coming of utter darkness. The +dinner was over a long time ago and the patient stewards had been +waiting, stoical in the downpour of words like sentries under a +shower. + +Mrs. Travers rose nervously and going aft began to gaze at the +coast. Behind her the sun, sunk already, seemed to force through +the mass of waters the glow of an unextinguishable fire, and +below her feet, on each side of the yacht, the lustrous sea, as +if reflecting the colour of her eyes, was tinged a sombre violet +hue. + +D'Alcacer came up to her with quiet footsteps and for some time +they leaned side by side over the rail in silence. Then he +said--"How quiet it is!" and she seemed to perceive that the +quietness of that evening was more profound and more significant +than ever before. Almost without knowing it she murmured--"It's +like a dream." Another long silence ensued; the tranquillity of +the universe had such an August ampleness that the sounds +remained on the lips as if checked by the fear of profanation. +The sky was limpid like a diamond, and under the last gleams of +sunset the night was spreading its veil over the earth. There was +something precious and soothing in the beautifully serene end of +that expiring day, of the day vibrating, glittering and ardent, +and dying now in infinite peace, without a stir, without a +tremor, without a sigh--in the certitude of resurrection. + +Then all at once the shadow deepened swiftly, the stars came out +in a crowd, scattering a rain of pale sparks upon the blackness +of the water, while the coast stretched low down, a dark belt +without a gleam. Above it the top-hamper of the brig loomed +indistinct and high. + +Mrs. Travers spoke first. + +"How unnaturally quiet! It is like a desert of land and water +without a living soul." + +"One man at least dwells in it," said d'Alcacer, lightly, "and if +he is to be believed there are other men, full of evil +intentions." + +"Do you think it is true?" Mrs. Travers asked. + +Before answering d'Alcacer tried to see the expression of her +face but the obscurity was too profound already. + +"How can one see a dark truth on such a dark night?" he said, +evasively. "But it is easy to believe in evil, here or anywhere +else." + +She seemed to be lost in thought for a while. + +"And that man himself?" she asked. + +After some time d'Alcacer began to speak slowly. "Rough, +uncommon, decidedly uncommon of his kind. Not at all what Don +Martin thinks him to be. For the rest--mysterious to me. He is +YOUR countryman after all-- " + +She seemed quite surprised by that view. + +"Yes," she said, slowly. "But you know, I can not --what shall I +say?--imagine him at all. He has nothing in common with the +mankind I know. There is nothing to begin upon. How does such a +man live? What are his thoughts? His actions? His affections? +His--" + +"His conventions," suggested d'Alcacer. "That would include +everything." + +Mr. Travers appeared suddenly behind them with a glowing cigar in +his teeth. He took it between his fingers to declare with +persistent acrimony that no amount of "scoundrelly intimidation" +would prevent him from having his usual walk. There was about +three hundred yards to the southward of the yacht a sandbank +nearly a mile long, gleaming a silvery white in the darkness, +plumetted in the centre with a thicket of dry bushes that rustled +very loud in the slightest stir of the heavy night air. The day +after the stranding they had landed on it "to stretch their legs +a bit," as the sailing-master defined it, and every evening +since, as if exercising a privilege or performing a duty, the +three paced there for an hour backward and forward lost in dusky +immensity, threading at the edge of water the belt of damp sand, +smooth, level, elastic to the touch like living flesh and +sweating a little under the pressure of their feet. + +This time d'Alcacer alone followed Mr. Travers. Mrs. Travers +heard them get into the yacht's smallest boat, and the +night-watchman, tugging at a pair of sculls, pulled them off to +the nearest point. Then the man returned. He came up the ladder +and she heard him say to someone on deck: + +"Orders to go back in an hour." + +His footsteps died out forward, and a somnolent, unbreathing +repose took possession of the stranded yacht. + + + +VI + +After a time this absolute silence which she almost could feel +pressing upon her on all sides induced in Mrs. Travers a state of +hallucination. She saw herself standing alone, at the end of +time, on the brink of days. All was unmoving as if the dawn would +never come, the stars would never fade, the sun would never rise +any more; all was mute, still, dead--as if the shadow of the +outer darkness, the shadow of the uninterrupted, of the +everlasting night that fills the universe, the shadow of the +night so profound and so vast that the blazing suns lost in it +are only like sparks, like pin-points of fire, the restless +shadow that like a suspicion of an evil truth darkens everything +upon the earth on its passage, had enveloped her, had stood +arrested as if to remain with her forever. + +And there was such a finality in that illusion, such an accord +with the trend of her thought that when she murmured into the +darkness a faint "so be it" she seemed to have spoken one of +those sentences that resume and close a life. + +As a young girl, often reproved for her romantic ideas, she had +dreams where the sincerity of a great passion appeared like the +ideal fulfilment and the only truth of life. Entering the world +she discovered that ideal to be unattainable because the world is +too prudent to be sincere. Then she hoped that she could find the +truth of life an ambition which she understood as a lifelong +devotion to some unselfish ideal. Mr. Travers' name was on men's +lips; he seemed capable of enthusiasm and of devotion; he +impressed her imagination by his impenetrability. She married +him, found him enthusiastically devoted to the nursing of his own +career, and had nothing to hope for now. + +That her husband should be bewildered by the curious +misunderstanding which had taken place and also permanently +grieved by her disloyalty to his respectable ideals was only +natural. He was, however, perfectly satisfied with her beauty, +her brilliance, and her useful connections. She was admired, she +was envied; she was surrounded by splendour and adulation; the +days went on rapid, brilliant, uniform, without a glimpse of +sincerity or true passion, without a single true emotion --not +even that of a great sorrow. And swiftly and stealthily they had +led her on and on, to this evening, to this coast, to this sea, +to this moment of time and to this spot on the earth's surface +where she felt unerringly that the moving shadow of the unbroken +night had stood still to remain with her forever. + +"So be it!" she murmured, resigned and defiant, at the mute and +smooth obscurity that hung before her eyes in a black curtain +without a fold; and as if in answer to that whisper a lantern was +run up to the foreyard-arm of the brig. She saw it ascend +swinging for a. short space, and suddenly remain motionless in +the air, piercing the dense night between the two vessels by its +glance of flame that strong and steady seemed, from afar, to fall +upon her alone. + +Her thoughts, like a fascinated moth, went fluttering toward that +light--that man--that girl, who had known war, danger, seen death +near, had obtained evidently the devotion of that man. The +occurrences of the afternoon had been strange in themselves, but +what struck her artistic sense was the vigour of their +presentation. They outlined themselves before her memory with the +clear simplicity of some immortal legend. They were mysterious, +but she felt certain they were absolutely true. They embodied +artless and masterful feelings; such, no doubt, as had swayed +mankind in the simplicity of its youth. She envied, for a moment, +the lot of that humble and obscure sister. Nothing stood between +that girl and the truth of her sensations. She could be sincerely +courageous, and tender and passionate and--well--ferocious. Why +not ferocious? She could know the truth of terror--and of +affection, absolutely, without artificial trammels, without the +pain of restraint. + +Thinking of what such life could be Mrs. Travers felt invaded by +that inexplicable exaltation which the consciousness of their +physical capacities so often gives to intellectual beings. She +glowed with a sudden persuasion that she also could be equal to +such an existence; and her heart was dilated with a momentary +longing to know the naked truth of things; the naked truth of +life and passion buried under the growth of centuries. + +She glowed and, suddenly, she quivered with the shock of coming +to herself as if she had fallen down from a star. There was a +sound of rippling water and a shapeless mass glided out of the +dark void she confronted. A voice below her feet said: + +"I made out your shape--on the sky." A cry of surprise expired on +her lips and she could only peer downward. Lingard, alone in the +brig's dinghy, with another stroke sent the light boat nearly +under the yacht's counter, laid his sculls in, and rose from the +thwart. His head and shoulders loomed up alongside and he had the +appearance of standing upon the sea. Involuntarily Mrs. Travers +made a movement of retreat. + +"Stop," he said, anxiously, "don't speak loud. No one must know. +Where do your people think themselves, I wonder? In a dock at +home? And you--" + +"My husband is not on board," she interrupted, hurriedly. + +"I know." + +She bent a little more over the rail. + +"Then you are having us watched. Why?" + +"Somebody must watch. Your people keep such a good +look-out--don't they? Yes. Ever since dark one of my boats has +been dodging astern here, in the deep water. I swore to myself I +would never see one of you, never speak to one of you here, that +I would be dumb, blind, deaf. And--here I am!" + +Mrs. Travers' alarm and mistrust were replaced by an immense +curiosity, burning, yet quiet, too, as if before the inevitable +work of destiny. She looked downward at Lingard. His head was +bared, and, with one hand upon the ship's side, he seemed to be +thinking deeply. + +"Because you had something more to tell us," Mrs. Travers +suggested, gently. + +"Yes," he said in a low tone and without moving in the least. + +"Will you come on board and wait?" she asked. + +"Who? I!" He lifted his head so quickly as to startle her. "I +have nothing to say to him; and I'll never put my foot on board +this craft. I've been told to go. That's enough." + +"He is accustomed to be addressed deferentially," she said after +a pause, "and you--" + +"Who is he?" asked Lingard, simply. + +These three words seemed to her to scatter her past in the +air--like smoke. They robbed all the multitude of mankind of +every vestige of importance. She was amazed to find that on this +night, in this place, there could be no adequate answer to the +searching naiveness of that question. + +"I didn't ask for much," Lingard began again. "Did I? Only that +you all should come on board my brig for five days. That's all. . +. . Do I look like a liar? There are things I could not tell him. +I couldn't explain--I couldn't--not to him--to no man--to no man +in the world--" + +His voice dropped. + +"Not to myself," he ended as if in a dream. + +"We have remained unmolested so long here," began Mrs. Travers a +little unsteadily, "that it makes it very difficult to believe in +danger, now. We saw no one all these days except those two people +who came for you. If you may not explain--" + +"Of course, you can't be expected to see through a wall," broke +in Lingard. "This coast's like a wall, but I know what's on the +other side. . . . A yacht here, of all things that float! When I +set eyes on her I could fancy she hadn't been more than an hour +from home. Nothing but the look of her spars made me think of old +times. And then the faces of the chaps on board. I seemed to know +them all. It was like home coming to me when I wasn't thinking of +it. And I hated the sight of you all." + +"If we are exposed to any peril," she said after a pause during +which she tried to penetrate the secret of passion hidden behind +that man's words, "it need not affect you. Our other boat is gone +to the Straits and effective help is sure to come very soon." + +"Affect me! Is that precious watchman of yours coming aft? I +don't want anybody to know I came here again begging, even of +you. Is he coming aft? . . . Listen! I've stopped your other +boat." + +His head and shoulders disappeared as though he had dived into a +denser layer of obscurity floating on the water. The watchman, +who had the intention to stretch himself in one of the deck +chairs, catching sight of the owner's wife, walked straight to +the lamp that hung under the ridge pole of the awning, and after +fumbling with it for a time went away forward with an indolent +gait. + +"You dared!" Mrs. Travers whispered down in an intense tone; and +directly, Lingard's head emerged again below her with an upturned +face. + +"It was dare--or give up. The help from the Straits would have +been too late anyhow if I hadn't the power to keep you safe; and +if I had the power I could see you through it--alone. I expected +to find a reasonable man to talk to. I ought to have known +better. You come from too far to understand these things. Well, I +dared; I've sent after your other boat a fellow who, with me at +his back, would try to stop the governor of the Straits himself. +He will do it. Perhaps it's done already. You have nothing to +hope for. But I am here. You said you believed I meant well--" + +"Yes," she murmured. + +"That's why I thought I would tell you everything. I had to begin +with this business about the boat. And what do you think of me +now? I've cut you off from the rest of the earth. You people +would disappear like a stone in the water. You left one foreign +port for another. Who's there to trouble about what became of +you? Who would know? Who could guess? It would be months before +they began to stir." + +"I understand," she said, steadily, "we are helpless." + +"And alone," he added. + +After a pause she said in a deliberate, restrained voice: + +"What does this mean? Plunder, captivity?" + +"It would have meant death if I hadn't been here," he answered. + +"But you have the power to--" + +""Why, do you think, you are alive yet?" he cried. "Jorgenson has +been arguing with them on shore," he went on, more calmly, with a +swing of his arm toward where the night seemed darkest. "Do you +think he would have kept them back if they hadn't expected me +every day? His words would have been nothing without my fist." + +She heard a dull blow struck on the side of the yacht and +concealed in the same darkness that wrapped the unconcern of the +earth and sea, the fury and the pain of hearts; she smiled above +his head, fascinated by the simplicity of images and expressions. + +Lingard made a brusque movement, the lively little boat being +unsteady under his feet, and she spoke slowly, absently, as if +her thought had been lost in the vagueness of her sensations. + +"And this--this--Jorgenson, you said? Who is he?" + +"A man," he answered, "a man like myself." + +"Like yourself?" + +"Just like myself," he said with strange reluctance, as if +admitting a painful truth. "More sense, perhaps, but less luck. +Though, since your yacht has turned up here, I begin to think +that my luck is nothing much to boast of either." + +"Is our presence here so fatal?" + +"It may be death to some. It may be worse than death to me. And +it rests with you in a way. Think of that! I can never find such +another chance again. But that's nothing! A man who has saved my +life once and that I passed my word to would think I had thrown +him over. But that's nothing! Listen! As true as I stand here in +my boat talking to you, I believe the girl would die of grief." + +"You love her," she said, softly. + +"Like my own daughter," he cried, low. + +Mrs. Travers said, "Oh!" faintly, and for a moment there was a +silence, then he began again: + +"Look here. When I was a boy in a trawler, and looked at you +yacht people, in the Channel ports, you were as strange to me as +the Malays here are strange to you. I left home sixteen years ago +and fought my way all round the earth. I had the time to forget +where I began. What are you to me against these two? If I was to +die here on the spot would you care? No one would care at home. +No one in the whole world--but these two." + +"What can I do?" she asked, and waited, leaning over. + +He seemed to reflect, then lifting his head, spoke gently: + +"Do you understand the danger you are in? Are you afraid?" + +"I understand the expression you used, of course. Understand the +danger?" she went on. "No--decidedly no. And-- honestly--I am not +afraid." + +"Aren't you?" he said in a disappointed voice. "Perhaps you don't +believe me? I believed you, though, when you said you were sure I +meant well. I trusted you enough to come here asking for your +help --telling you what no one knows." + +"You mistake me," she said with impulsive earnestness. "This is +so extraordinarily unusual--sudden--outside my experience." + +"Aye!" he murmured, "what would you know of danger and trouble? +You! But perhaps by thinking it over--" + +"You want me to think myself into a fright!" Mrs. Travers laughed +lightly, and in the gloom of his thought this flash of joyous +sound was incongruous and almost terrible. Next moment the night +appeared brilliant as day, warm as sunshine; but when she ceased +the returning darkness gave him pain as if it had struck heavily +against his breast. "I don't think I could do that," she finished +in a serious tone. + +"Couldn't you?" He hesitated, perplexed. "Things are bad enough +to make it no shame. I tell you," he said, rapidly, "and I am not +a timid man, I may not be able to do much if you people don't +help me." + +"You want me to pretend I am alarmed?" she asked, quickly. + +"Aye, to pretend--as well you may. It's a lot to ask of you--who +perhaps never had to make-believe a thing in your life--isn't +it?" + +"It is," she said after a time. + +The unexpected bitterness of her tone struck Lingard with dismay. + +"Don't be offended," he entreated. "I've got to plan a way out of +this mess. It's no play either. Could you pretend?" + +"Perhaps, if I tried very hard. But to what end?" + +"You must all shift aboard the brig," he began, speaking quickly, +"and then we may get over this trouble without coming to blows. +Now, if you were to say that you wish it; that you feel unsafe in +the yacht--don't you see?" + +"I see," she pronounced, thoughtfully. + +"The brig is small but the cuddy is fit for a lady," went on +Lingard with animation. + +"Has it not already sheltered a princess?" she commented, coolly. + +"And I shall not intrude." + +"This is an inducement." + +"Nobody will dare to intrude. You needn't even see me." + +"This is almost decisive, only--" + +"I know my place." + +"Only, I might not have the influence," she finished. + +"That I can not believe," he said, roughly. "The long and the +short of it is you don't trust me because you think that only +people of your own condition speak the truth always." + +"Evidently," she murmured. + +"You say to yourself--here's a fellow deep in with pirates, +thieves, niggers--" + +"To be sure--" + +"A man I never saw the like before," went on Lingard, headlong, +"a--ruffian." + +He checked himself, full of confusion. After a time he heard her +saying, calmly: + +"You are like other men in this, that you get angry when you can +not have your way at once." + +"I angry!" he exclaimed in deadened voice. "You do not +understand. I am thinking of you also--it is hard on me--" + +"I mistrust not you, but my own power. You have produced an +unfortunate impression on Mr. Travers." + +"Unfortunate impression! He treated me as if I had been a +long-shore loafer. Never mind that. He is your husband. Fear in +those you care for is hard to bear for any man. And so, he--" + +"What Machiavellism!" + +"Eh, what did you say?" + +"I only wondered where you had observed that. On the sea?" + +"Observed what?" he said, absently. Then pursuing his idea--"One +word from you ought to be enough." + +"You think so?" + +"I am sure of it. Why, even I, myself--" + +"Of course," she interrupted. "But don't you think that after +parting with you on such--such--inimical terms, there would be a +difficulty in resuming relations?" + +"A man like me would do anything for money--don't you see?" + +After a pause she asked: + +"And would you care for that argument to be used?" + +"As long as you know better!" + +His voice vibrated--she drew back disturbed, as if unexpectedly +he had touched her. + +"What can there be at stake?" she began, wonderingly. + +"A kingdom," said Lingard. + +Mrs. Travers leaned far over the rail, staring, and their faces, +one above the other, came very close together. + +"Not for yourself?" she whispered. + +He felt the touch of her breath on his forehead and remained +still for a moment, perfectly still as if he did not intend to +move or speak any more. + +"Those things," he began, suddenly, "come in your way, when you +don't think, and they get all round you before you know what you +mean to do. When I went into that bay in New Guinea I never +guessed where that course would take me to. I could tell you a +story. You would understand! You! You!" + +He stammered, hesitated, and suddenly spoke, liberating the +visions of two years into the night where Mrs. Travers could +follow them as if outlined in words of fire. + + + +VII + +His tale was as startling as the discovery of a new world. She +was being taken along the boundary of an exciting existence, and +she looked into it through the guileless enthusiasm of the +narrator. The heroic quality of the feelings concealed what was +disproportionate and absurd in that gratitude, in that +friendship, in that inexplicable devotion. The headlong +fierceness of purpose invested his obscure design of conquest +with the proportions of a great enterprise. It was clear that no +vision of a subjugated world could have been more inspiring to +the most famous adventurer of history. + +From time to time he interrupted himself to ask, confidently, as +if he had been speaking to an old friend, "What would you have +done?" and hurried on without pausing for approval. + +It struck her that there was a great passion in all this, the +beauty of an implanted faculty of affection that had found +itself, its immediate need of an object and the way of expansion; +a tenderness expressed violently; a tenderness that could only be +satisfied by backing human beings against their own destiny. +Perhaps her hatred of convention, trammelling the frankness of +her own impulses, had rendered her more alert to perceive what is +intrinsically great and profound within the forms of human folly, +so simple and so infinitely varied according to the region of the +earth and to the moment of time. + +What of it that the narrator was only a roving seaman; the +kingdom of the jungle, the men of the forest, the lives obscure! +That simple soul was possessed by the greatness of the idea; +there was nothing sordid in its flaming impulses. When she once +understood that, the story appealed to the audacity of her +thoughts, and she became so charmed with what she heard that she +forgot where she was. She forgot that she was personally close to +that tale which she saw detached, far away from her, truth or +fiction, presented in picturesque speech, real only by the +response of her emotion. + +Lingard paused. In the cessation of the impassioned murmur she +began to reflect. And at first it was only an oppressive notion +of there being some significance that really mattered in this +man's story. That mattered to her. For the first time the shadow +of danger and death crossed her mind. Was that the significance? +Suddenly, in a flash of acute discernment, she saw herself +involved helplessly in that story, as one is involved in a +natural cataclysm. + +He was speaking again. He had not been silent more than a minute. +It seemed to Mrs. Travers that years had elapsed, so different +now was the effect of his words. Her mind was agitated as if his +coming to speak and confide in her had been a tremendous +occurrence. It was a fact of her own existence; it was part of +the story also. This was the disturbing thought. She heard him +pronounce several names: Belarab, Daman, Tengga, Ningrat. These +belonged now to her life and she was appalled to find she was +unable to connect these names with any human appearance. They +stood out alone, as if written on the night; they took on a +symbolic shape; they imposed themselves upon her senses. She +whispered as if pondering: "Belarab, Daman, Ningrat," and these +barbarous sounds seemed to possess an exceptional energy, a fatal +aspect, the savour of madness. + +"Not one of them but has a heavy score to settle with the whites. +What's that to me! I had somehow to get men who would fight. I +risked my life to get that lot. I made them promises which I +shall keep--or--! Can you see now why I dared to stop your boat? +I am in so deep that I care for no Sir John in the world. When I +look at the work ahead I care for nothing. I gave you one +chance--one good chance. That I had to do. No! I suppose I didn't +look enough of a gentleman. Yes! Yes! That's it. Yet I know what +a gentleman is. I lived with them for years. I chummed with them- +-yes--on gold-fields and in other places where a man has got to +show the stuff that's in him. Some of them write from home to me +here--such as you see me, because I--never mind! And I know what +a gentleman would do. Come! Wouldn't he treat a stranger fairly? +Wouldn't he remember that no man is a liar till you prove him so? +Wouldn't he keep his word wherever given? Well, I am going to do +that. Not a hair of your head shall be touched as long as I +live!" + +She had regained much of her composure but at these words she +felt that staggering sense of utter insecurity which is given one +by the first tremor of an earthquake. It was followed by an +expectant stillness of sensations. She remained silent. He +thought she did not believe him. + +"Come! What on earth do you think brought me here--to--to--talk +like this to you? There was Hassim--Rajah Tulla, I should +say--who was asking me this afternoon: 'What will you do now with +these, your people?' I believe he thinks yet I fetched you here +for some reason. You can't tell what crooked notion they will get +into their thick heads. It's enough to make one swear." He swore. +"My people! Are you? How much? Say--how much? You're no more mine +than I am yours. Would any of you fine folks at home face black +ruin to save a fishing smack's crew from getting drowned?" + +Notwithstanding that sense of insecurity which lingered faintly +in her mind she had no image of death before her. She felt +intensely alive. She felt alive in a flush of strength, with an +impression of novelty as though life had been the gift of this +very moment. The danger hidden in the night gave no sign to +awaken her terror, but the workings of a human soul, simple and +violent, were laid bare before her and had the disturbing charm +of an unheard-of experience. She was listening to a man who +concealed nothing. She said, interrogatively: + +"And yet you have come?" + +"Yes," he answered, "to you--and for you only." + +The flood tide running strong over the banks made a placid +trickling sound about the yacht's rudder. + +"I would not be saved alone." + +"Then you must bring them over yourself," he said in a sombre +tone. "There's the brig. You have me--my men--my guns. You know +what to do. + +"I will try," she said. + +"Very well. I am sorry for the poor devils forward there if you +fail. But of course you won't. Watch that light on the brig. I +had it hoisted on purpose. The trouble may be nearer than we +think. Two of my boats are gone scouting and if the news they +bring me is bad the light will be lowered. Think what that means. +And I've told you what I have told nobody. Think of my feelings +also. I told you because I--because I had to." + +He gave a shove against the yacht's side and glided away from +under her eyes. A rippling sound died out. + +She walked away from the rail. The lamp and the skylights shone +faintly along the dark stretch of the decks. This evening was +like the last--like all the evenings before. + +"Is all this I have heard possible?" she asked herself. "No--but +it is true." + +She sat down in a deck chair to think and found she could only +remember. She jumped up. She was sure somebody was hailing the +yacht faintly. Was that man hailing? She listened, and hearing +nothing was annoyed with herself for being haunted by a voice. + +"He said he could trust me. Now, what is this danger? What is +danger?" she meditated. + +Footsteps were coming from forward. The figure of the watchman +flitted vaguely over the gangway. He was whistling softly and +vanished. Hollow sounds in the boat were succeeded by a splash of +oars. The night swallowed these slight noises. Mrs. Travers sat +down again and found herself much calmer. + +She had the faculty of being able to think her own thoughts--and +the courage. She could take no action of any kind till her +husband's return. Lingard's warnings were not what had impressed +her most. This man had presented his innermost self unclothed by +any subterfuge. There were in plain sight his desires, his +perplexities, affections, doubts, his violence, his folly; and +the existence they made up was lawless but not vile. She had too +much elevation of mind to look upon him from any other but a +strictly human standpoint. If he trusted her (how strange; why +should he? Was he wrong?) she accepted the trust with scrupulous +fairness. And when it dawned upon her that of all the men in the +world this unquestionably was the one she knew best, she had a +moment of wonder followed by an impression of profound sadness. +It seemed an unfortunate matter that concerned her alone. + +Her thought was suspended while she listened attentively for the +return of the yacht's boat. She was dismayed at the task before +her. Not a sound broke the stillness and she felt as if she were +lost in empty space. Then suddenly someone amidships yawned +immensely and said: "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" A voice asked: "Ain't +they back yet?" A negative grunt answered. + +Mrs. Travers found that Lingard was touching, because he could be +understood. How simple was life, she reflected. She was frank +with herself. She considered him apart from social organization. +She discovered he had no place in it. How delightful! Here was a +human being and the naked truth of things was not so very far +from her notwithstanding the growth of centuries. Then it +occurred to her that this man by his action stripped her at once +of her position, of her wealth, of her rank, of her past. "I am +helpless. What remains?" she asked herself. Nothing! Anybody +there might have suggested: "Your presence." She was too +artificial yet to think of her beauty; and yet the power of +personality is part of the naked truth of things. + +She looked over her shoulder, and saw the light at the brig's +foreyard-arm burning with a strong, calm flame in the dust of +starlight suspended above the coast. She heard the heavy bump as +of a boat run headlong against the ladder. They were back! She +rose in sudden and extreme agitation. What should she say? How +much? How to begin? Why say anything? It would be absurd, like +talking seriously about a dream. She would not dare! In a moment +she was driven into a state of mind bordering on distraction. She +heard somebody run up the gangway steps. With the idea of gaining +time she walked rapidly aft to the taffrail. The light of the +brig faced her without a flicker, enormous amongst the suns +scattered in the immensity of the night. + +She fixed her eyes on it. She thought: "I shan't tell him +anything. Impossible. No! I shall tell everything." She expected +every moment to hear her husband's voice and the suspense was +intolerable because she felt that then she must decide. Somebody +on deck was babbling excitedly. She devoutly hoped d'Alcacer +would speak first and thus put off the fatal moment. A voice said +roughly: "What's that?" And in the midst of her distress she +recognized Carter's voice, having noticed that young man who was +of a different stamp from the rest of the crew. She came to the +conclusion that the matter could be related jocularly, or--why +not pretend fear? At that moment the brig's yard-arm light she +was looking at trembled distinctly, and she was dumfounded as if +she had seen a commotion in the firmament. With her lips open for +a cry she saw it fall straight down several feet, flicker, and go +out. All perplexity passed from her mind. This first fact of the +danger gave her a thrill of quite a new emotion. Something had to +be done at once. For some remote reason she felt ashamed of her +hesitations. + +She moved swiftly forward and under the lamp came face to face +with Carter who was coming aft. Both stopped, staring, the light +fell on their faces, and both were struck by each other's +expression. The four eyes shone wide. + +"You have seen?" she asked, beginning to tremble. + +"How do you know?" he said, at the same time, evidently +surprised. + +Suddenly she saw that everybody was on deck. + +"The light is down," she stammered. + +"The gentlemen are lost," said Carter. Then he perceived she did +not seem to understand. "Kidnapped off the sandbank," he +continued, looking at her fixedly to see how she would take it. +She seemed calm. "Kidnapped like a pair of lambs! Not a squeak," +he burst out with indignation. "But the sandbank is long and they +might have been at the other end. You were on deck, ma'am?" he +asked. + +"Yes," she murmured. "In the chair here." + +"We were all down below. I had to rest a little. When I came up +the watchman was asleep. He swears he wasn't, but I know better. +Nobody heard any noise, unless you did. But perhaps you were +asleep?" he asked, deferentially. + +"Yes--no--I must have been," she said, faintly. + + + +VIII + +Lingard's soul was exalted by his talk with Mrs. Travers, by the +strain of incertitude and by extreme fatigue. On returning on +board he asked after Hassim and was told that the Rajah and his +sister had gone off in their canoe promising to return before +midnight. The boats sent to scout between the islets north and +south of the anchorage had not come back yet. He went into his +cabin and throwing himself on the couch closed his eyes thinking: +"I must sleep or I shall go mad." + +At times he felt an unshaken confidence in Mrs. Travers--then he +remembered her face. Next moment the face would fade, he would +make an effort to hold on to the image, fail--and then become +convinced without the shadow of a doubt that he was utterly lost, +unless he let all these people be wiped off the face of the +earth. + +"They all heard that man order me out of his ship," he thought, +and thereupon for a second or so he contemplated without +flinching the lurid image of a massacre. "And yet I had to tell +her that not a hair of her head shall be touched. Not a hair." + +And irrationally at the recollection of these words there seemed +to be no trouble of any kind left in the world. Now and then, +however, there were black instants when from sheer weariness he +thought of nothing at all; and during one of these he fell +asleep, losing the consciousness of external things as suddenly +as if he had been felled by a blow on the head. + +When he sat up, almost before he was properly awake, his first +alarmed conviction was that he had slept the night through. There +was a light in the cuddy and through the open door of his cabin +he saw distinctly Mrs. Travers pass out of view across the +lighted space. + +"They did come on board after all," he thought--"how is it I +haven't been called!" + +He darted into the cuddy. Nobody! Looking up at the clock in the +skylight he was vexed to see it had stopped till his ear caught +the faint beat of the mechanism. It was going then! He could not +have been asleep more than ten minutes. He had not been on board +more than twenty! + +So it was only a deception; he had seen no one. And yet he +remembered the turn of the head, the line of the neck, the colour +of the hair, the movement of the passing figure. He returned +spiritlessly to his state-room muttering, "No more sleep for me +to-night," and came out directly, holding a few sheets of paper +covered with a high, angular handwriting. + +This was Jorgenson's letter written three days before and +entrusted to Hassim. Lingard had read it already twice, but he +turned up the lamp a little higher and sat down to read it again. +On the red shield above his head the gilt sheaf of thunderbolts +darting between the initials of his name seemed to be aimed +straight at the nape of his neck as he sat with bared elbows +spread on the table, poring over the crumpled sheets. The letter +began: + +Hassim and Immada are going out to-night to look for you. You are +behind your time and every passing day makes things worse. + +Ten days ago three of Belarab's men, who had been collecting +turtles' eggs on the islets, came flying back with a story of a +ship stranded on the outer mudflats. Belarab at once forbade any +boat from leaving the lagoon. So far good. There was a great +excitement in the village. I judge it must be a schooner-- +probably some fool of a trader. However, you will know all about +her when you read this. You may say I might have pulled out to +sea to have a look for myself. But besides Belarab's orders to +the contrary, which I would attend to for the sake of example, +all you are worth in this world, Tom, is here in the Emma, under +my feet, and I would not leave my charge even for half a day. +Hassim attended the council held every evening in the shed +outside Belarab's stockade. That holy man Ningrat was for looting +that vessel. Hassim reproved him saying that the vessel probably +was sent by you because no white men were known to come inside +the shoals. Belarab backed up Hassim. Ningrat was very angry and +reproached Belarab for keeping him, Ningrat, short of opium to +smoke. He began by calling him "O! son," and ended by shouting, +"O! you worse than an unbeliever!" There was a hullabaloo. The +followers of Tengga were ready to interfere and you know how it +is between Tengga and Belarab. Tengga always wanted to oust +Belarab, and his chances were getting pretty good before you +turned up and armed Belarab's bodyguard with muskets. However, +Hassim stopped that row, and no one was hurt that time. Next day, +which was Friday, Ningrat after reading the prayers in the mosque +talked to the people outside. He bleated and capered like an old +goat, prophesying misfortune, ruin, and extermination if these +whites were allowed to get away. He is mad but then they think +him a saint, and he had been fighting the Dutch for years in his +young days. Six of Belarab's guard marched down the village +street carrying muskets at full cock and the crowd cleared out. +Ningrat was spirited away by Tengga's men into their master's +stockade. If it was not for the fear of you turning up any moment +there would have been a party-fight that evening. I think it is a +pity Tengga is not chief of the land instead of Belarab. A brave +and foresighted man, however treacherous at heart, can always be +trusted to a certain extent. One can never get anything clear +from Belarab. Peace! Peace! You know his fad. And this fad makes +him act silly. The peace racket will get him into a row. It may +cost him his life in the end. However, Tengga does not feel +himself strong enough yet to act with his own followers only and +Belarab has, on my advice, disarmed all villagers. His men went +into the houses and took away by force all the firearms and as +many spears as they could lay hands on. The women screamed abuse +of course, but there was no resistance. A few men were seen +clearing out into the forest with their arms. Note this, for it +means there is another power beside Belarab's in the village: the +growing power of Tengga. + +One morning--four days ago--I went to see Tengga. I found him by +the shore trimming a plank with a small hatchet while a slave +held an umbrella over his head. He is amusing himself in building +a boat just now. He threw his hatchet down to meet me and led me +by the hand to a shady spot. He told me frankly he had sent out +two good swimmers to observe the stranded vessel. These men stole +down the creek in a canoe and when on the sea coast swam from +sandbank to sandbank until they approached unobserved--I +think--to about fifty yards from that schooner What can that +craft be? I can't make it out. The men reported there were three +chiefs on board. One with a glittering eye, one a lean man in +white, and another without any hair on the face and dressed in a +different style. Could it be a woman? I don't know what to think. +I wish you were here. After a lot of chatter Tengga said: "Six +years ago I was ruler of a country and the Dutch drove me out. +The country was small but nothing is too small for them to take. +They pretended to give it back to my nephew--may he burn! I ran +away or they would have killed me. I am nothing here--but I +remember. These white people out there can not run away and they +are very few. There is perhaps a little to loot. I would give it +to my men who followed me in my calamity because I am their chief +and my father was the chief of their fathers." I pointed out the +imprudence of this. He said: "The dead do not show the way." To +this I remarked that the ignorant do not give information. Tengga +kept quiet for a while, then said: "We must not touch them +because their skin is like yours and to kill them would be wrong, +but at the bidding of you whites we may go and fight with people +of our own skin and our own faith--and that is good. I have +promised to Tuan Lingard twenty men and a prau to make war in +Wajo. The men are good and look at the prau; it is swift and +strong." I must say, Tom, the prau is the best craft of the kind +I have ever seen. I said you paid him well for the help. "And I +also would pay," says he, "if you let me have a few guns and a +little powder for my men. You and I shall share the loot of that +ship outside, and Tuan Lingard will not know. It is only a little +game. You have plenty of guns and powder under your care." He +meant in the Emma. On that I spoke out pretty straight and we got +rather warm until at last he gave me to understand that as he had +about forty followers of his own and I had only nine of Hassim's +chaps to defend the Emma with, he could very well go for me and +get the lot. "And then," says he, "I would be so strong that +everybody would be on my side." I discovered in the course of +further talk that there is a notion amongst many people that you +have come to grief in some way and won't show up here any more. +After this I saw the position was serious and I was in a hurry to +get back to the Emma, but pretending I did not care I smiled and +thanked Tengga for giving me warning of his intentions about me +and the Emma. At this he nearly choked himself with his betel +quid and fixing me with his little eyes, muttered: "Even a lizard +will give a fly the time to say its prayers." I turned my back on +him and was very thankful to get beyond the throw of a spear. I +haven't been out of the Emma since. + + + +IX + +The letter went on to enlarge on the intrigues of Tengga, the +wavering conduct of Belarab, and the state of the public mind. It +noted every gust of opinion and every event, with an earnestness +of belief in their importance befitting the chronicle of a crisis +in the history of an empire. The shade of Jorgenson had, indeed, +stepped back into the life of men. The old adventurer looked on +with a perfect understanding of the value of trifles, using his +eyes for that other man whose conscience would have the task to +unravel the tangle. Lingard lived through those days in the +Settlement and was thankful to Jorgenson; only as he lived not +from day to day but from sentence to sentence of the writing, +there was an effect of bewildering rapidity in the succession of +events that made him grunt with surprise sometimes or +growl--"What?" to himself angrily and turn back several lines or +a whole page more than once. Toward the end he had a heavy frown +of perplexity and fidgeted as he read: + +--and I began to think I could keep things quiet till you came or +those wretched white people got their schooner off, when Sherif +Daman arrived from the north on the very day he was expected, +with two Illanun praus. He looks like an Arab. It was very +evident to me he can wind the two Illanun pangerans round his +little finger. The two praus are large and armed. They came up +the creek, flags and streamers flying, beating drums and gongs, +and entered the lagoon with their decks full of armed men +brandishing two-handed swords and sounding the war cry. It is a +fine force for you, only Belarab who is a perverse devil would +not receive Sherif Daman at once. So Daman went to see Tengga who +detained him a very long time. Leaving Tengga he came on board +the Emma, and I could see directly there was something up. + +He began by asking me for the ammunition and weapons they are to +get from you, saying he was anxious to sail at once toward Wajo, +since it was agreed he was to precede you by a few days. I +replied that that was true enough but that I could not think of +giving him the powder and muskets till you came. He began to talk +about you and hinted that perhaps you will never come. "And no +matter," says he, "here is Rajah Hassim and the Lady Immada and +we would fight for them if no white man was left in the world. +Only we must have something to fight with." He pretended then to +forget me altogether and talked with Hassim while I sat +listening. He began to boast how well he got along the Bruni +coast. No Illanun prau had passed down that coast for years. + +Immada wanted me to give the arms he was asking for. The girl is +beside herself with fear of something happening that would put a +stopper on the Wajo expedition. She has set her mind on getting +her country back. Hassim is very reserved but he is very anxious, +too. Daman got nothing from me, and that very evening the praus +were ordered by Belarab to leave the lagoon. He does not trust +the Illanuns--and small blame to him. Sherif Daman went like a +lamb. He has no powder for his guns. As the praus passed by the +Emma he shouted to me he was going to wait for you outside the +creek. Tengga has given him a man who would show him the place. +All this looks very queer to me. + +Look out outside then. The praus are dodging amongst the islets. +Daman visits Tengga. Tengga called on me as a good friend to try +and persuade me to give Daman the arms and gunpowder he is so +anxious to get. Somehow or other they tried to get around +Belarab, who came to see me last night and hinted I had better do +so. He is anxious for these Illanuns to leave the neighbourhood. +He thinks that if they loot the schooner they will be off at +once. That's all he wants now. Immada has been to see Belarab's +women and stopped two nights in the stockade. Belarab's youngest +wife--he got married six weeks ago--is on the side of Tengga's +party because she thinks Belarab would get a share of the loot +and she got into her silly head there are jewels and silks in +that schooner. What between Tengga worrying him outside and the +women worrying him at home, Belarab had such a lively time of it +that he concluded he would go to pray at his father's tomb. So +for the last two days he has been away camping in that unhealthy +place. When he comes back he will be down with fever as sure as +fate and then he will be no good for anything. Tengga lights up +smoky fires often. Some signal to Daman. I go ashore with +Hassim's men and put them out. This is risking a fight every +time--for Tengga's men look very black at us. I don't know what +the next move may be. Hassim's as true as steel. Immada is very +unhappy. They will tell you many details I have no time to write. + +The last page fluttered on the table out of Lingard's fingers. He +sat very still for a moment looking straight before him, then +went on deck. + +"Our boats back yet?" he asked Shaw, whom he saw prowling on the +quarter-deck. + +"No, sir, I wish they were. I am waiting for them to go and turn +in," answered the mate in an aggrieved manner. + +"Lower that lantern forward there," cried Lingard, suddenly, in +Malay. + +"This trade isn't fit for a decent man," muttered Shaw to +himself, and he moved away to lean on the rail, looking moodily +to seaward. After a while: "There seems to be commotion on board +that yacht," he said. "I see a lot of lights moving about her +decks. Anything wrong, do you think, sir?" + +"No, I know what it is," said Lingard in a tone of elation. She +has done it! he thought. + +He returned to the cabin, put away Jorgenson's letter and pulled +out the drawer of the table. It was full of cartridges. He took a +musket down, loaded it, then took another and another. He +hammered at the waddings with fierce joyousness. The ramrods rang +and jumped. It seemed to him he was doing his share of some work +in which that woman was playing her part faithfully. "She has +done it," he repeated, mentally. "She will sit in the cuddy. She +will sleep in my berth. Well, I'm not ashamed of the brig. By +heavens--no! I shall keep away: never come near them as I've +promised. Now there's nothing more to say. I've told her +everything at once. There's nothing more." + +He felt a heaviness in his burning breast, in all his limbs as if +the blood in his veins had become molten lead. + +"I shall get the yacht off. Three, four days--no, a week." + +He found he couldn't do it under a week. It occurred to him he +would see her every day till the yacht was afloat. No, he +wouldn't intrude, but he was master and owner of the brig after +all. He didn't mean to skulk like a whipped cur about his own +decks. + +"It'll be ten days before the schooner is ready. I'll take every +scrap of ballast out of her. I'll strip her--I'll take her lower +masts out of her, by heavens! I'll make sure. Then another week +to fit out--and--goodbye. Wish I had never seen them. +Good-bye--forever. Home's the place for them. Not for me. On +another coast she would not have listened. Ah, but she is a +woman--every inch of her. I shall shake hands. Yes. I shall take +her hand--just before she goes. Why the devil not? I am master +here after all--in this brig--as good as any one--by heavens, +better than any one--better than any one on earth." + +He heard Shaw walk smartly forward above his head hailing: + +"What's that--a boat?" + +A voice answered indistinctly. + +"One of my boats is back," thought Lingard. "News about Daman +perhaps. I don't care if he kicks. I wish he would. I would soon +show her I can fight as well as I can handle the brig. Two praus. +Only two praus. I wouldn't mind if there were twenty. I would +sweep 'em off the sea--I would blow 'em out of the water--I would +make the brig walk over them. 'Now,' I'd say to her, 'you who are +not afraid, look how it's done!'" + +He felt light. He had the sensation of being whirled high in the +midst of an uproar and as powerless as a feather in a hurricane. +He shuddered profoundly. His arms hung down, and he stood before +the table staring like a man overcome by some fatal intelligence. + +Shaw, going into the waist to receive what he thought was one of +the brig's boats, came against Carter making his way aft +hurriedly. + +"Hullo! Is it you again?" he said, swiftly, barring the way. + +"I come from the yacht," began Carter with some impatience. + +"Where else could you come from?" said Shaw. "And what might you +want now?" + +"I want to see your skipper." + +"Well, you can't," declared Shaw, viciously. "He's turned in for +the night." + +"He expects me," said Carter, stamping his foot. "I've got to +tell him what happened." + +"Don't you fret yourself, young man," said Shaw in a superior +manner; "he knows all about it." + +They stood suddenly silent in the dark. Carter seemed at a loss +what to do. Shaw, though surprised by it, enjoyed the effect he +had produced. + +"Damn me, if I did not think so," murmured Carter to himself; +then drawling coolly asked--"And perhaps you know, too?" + +"What do you think? Think I am a dummy here? I ain't mate of this +brig for nothing." + +"No, you are not," said Carter with a certain bitterness of tone. +"People do all kinds of queer things for a living, and I am not +particular myself, but I would think twice before taking your +billet." + +"What? What do you in-si-nu-ate. My billet? You ain't fit for it, +you yacht-swabbing brass-buttoned imposter." + +"What's this? Any of our boats back?" asked Lingard from the +poop. "Let the seacannie in charge come to me at once." + +"There's only a message from the yacht," began Shaw, +deliberately. + +"Yacht! Get the deck lamps along here in the waist! See the +ladder lowered. Bear a hand, serang! Mr. Shaw! Burn the flare up +aft. Two of them! Give light to the yacht's boats that will be +coming alongside. Steward! Where's that steward? Turn him out +then." + +Bare feet began to patter all round Carter. Shadows glided +swiftly. + +"Are these flares coming? Where's the quartermaster on duty?" +shouted Lingard in English and Malay. "This way, come here! Put +it on a rocket stick--can't you? Hold over the side--thus! Stand +by with the lines for the boats forward there. Mr. Shaw--we want +more light!" + +"Aye, aye, sir," called out Shaw, but he did not move, as if +dazed by the vehemence of his commander. + +"That's what we want," muttered Carter under his breath. +"Imposter! What do you call yourself?" he said half aloud to +Shaw. + +The ruddy glare of the flares disclosed Lingard from head to +foot, standing at the break of the poop. His head was bare, his +face, crudely lighted, had a fierce and changing expression in +the sway of flames. + +"What can be his game?" thought Carter, impressed by the powerful +and wild aspect of that figure. "He's changed somehow since I saw +him first," he reflected. It struck him the change was serious, +not exactly for the worse, perhaps--and yet. . . . Lingard smiled +at him from the poop. + +Carter went up the steps and without pausing informed him of what +had happened. + +"Mrs. Travers told me to go to you at once. She's very upset as +you may guess," he drawled, looking Lingard hard in the face. +Lingard knitted his eyebrows. "The hands, too, are scared," +Carter went on. "They fancy the savages, or whatever they may be +who stole the owner, are going to board the yacht every minute. I +don't think so myself but--" + +"Quite right--most unlikely," muttered Lingard. + +"Aye, I daresay you know all about it," continued Carter, coolly, +"the men are startled and no mistake, but I can't blame them very +much. There isn't enough even of carving knives aboard to go +round. One old signal gun! A poor show for better men than they." + +"There's no mistake I suppose about this affair?" asked Lingard. + +"Well, unless the gentlemen are having a lark with us at hide and +seek. The man says he waited ten minutes at the point, then +pulled slowly along the bank looking out, expecting to see them +walking back. He made the trunk of a tree apparently stranded on +the sand and as he was sculling past he says a man jumped up from +behind that log, flung a stick at him and went off running. He +backed water at once and began to shout, 'Are you there, sir?' No +one answered. He could hear the bushes rustle and some strange +noises like whisperings. It was very dark. After calling out +several times, and waiting on his oars, he got frightened and +pulled back to the yacht. That is clear enough. The only doubt in +my mind is if they are alive or not. I didn't let on to Mrs. +Travers. That's a kind of thing you keep to yourself, of course." + +"I don't think they are dead," said Lingard, slowly, and as if +thinking of something else. + +"Oh! If you say so it's all right," said Carter with +deliberation. + +"What?" asked Lingard, absently; "fling a stick, did they? Fling +a spear!" + +"That's it!" assented Carter, "but I didn't say anything. I only +wondered if the same kind of stick hadn't been flung at the +owner, that's all. But I suppose you know your business best, +Captain." + +Lingard, grasping his whole beard, reflected profoundly, erect +and with bowed head in the glare of the flares. + +"I suppose you think it's my doing?" he asked, sharply, without +looking up. + +Carter surveyed him with a candidly curious gaze. "Well, Captain, +Mrs. Travers did let on a bit to me about our chief-officer's +boat. You've stopped it, haven't you? How she got to know God +only knows. She was sorry she spoke, too, but it wasn't so much +of news to me as she thought. I can put two and two together, +sometimes. Those rockets, last night, eh? I wished I had bitten +my tongue out before I told you about our first gig. But I was +taken unawares. Wasn't I? I put it to you: wasn't I? And so I +told her when she asked me what passed between you and me on +board this brig, not twenty-four hours ago. Things look different +now, all of a sudden. Enough to scare a woman, but she is the +best man of them all on board. The others are fairly off the +chump because it's a bit dark and something has happened they +ain't used to. But she has something on her mind. I can't make +her out!" He paused, wriggled his shoulders slightly--"No more +than I can make you out," he added. + +"That's your trouble, is it?" said Lingard, slowly. + +"Aye, Captain. Is it all clear to you? Stopping boats, kidnapping +gentlemen. That's fun in a way, only--I am a youngster to +you--but is it all clear to you? Old Robinson wasn't particular, +you know, and he--" + +"Clearer than daylight," cried Lingard, hotly. "I can't give +up--" + +He checked himself. Carter waited. The flare bearers stood rigid, +turning their faces away from the flame, and in the play of +gleams at its foot the mast near by, like a lofty column, +ascended in the great darkness. A lot of ropes ran up slanting +into a dark void and were lost to sight, but high aloft a brace +block gleamed white, the end of a yard-arm could be seen +suspended in the air and as if glowing with its own light. The +sky had clouded over the brig without a breath of wind. + +"Give up," repeated Carter with an uneasy shuffle of feet. + +"Nobody," finished Lingard. "I can't. It's as clear as daylight. +I can't! No! Nothing!" + +He stared straight out afar, and after looking at him Carter felt +moved by a bit of youthful intuition to murmur, "That's bad," in +a tone that almost in spite of himself hinted at the dawning of a +befogged compassion. + +He had a sense of confusion within him, the sense of mystery +without. He had never experienced anything like it all the time +when serving with old Robinson in the Ly-e-moon. And yet he had +seen and taken part in some queer doings that were not clear to +him at the time. They were secret but they suggested something +comprehensible. This affair did not. It had somehow a subtlety +that affected him. He was uneasy as if there had been a breath of +magic on events and men giving to this complication of a yachting +voyage a significance impossible to perceive, but felt in the +words, in the gestures, in the events, which made them all +strangely, obscurely startling. + +He was not one who could keep track of his sensations, and +besides he had not the leisure. He had to answer Lingard's +questions about the people of the yacht. No, he couldn't say Mrs. +Travers was what you may call frightened. She seemed to have +something in her mind. Oh, yes! The chaps were in a funk. Would +they fight? Anybody would fight when driven to it, funk or no +funk. That was his experience. Naturally one liked to have +something better than a handspike to do it with. Still-- In the +pause Carter seemed to weigh with composure the chances of men +with handspikes. + +"What do you want to fight us for?" he asked, suddenly. + +Lingard started. + +"I don't," he said; "I wouldn't be asking you." + +"There's no saying what you would do, Captain," replied Carter; +"it isn't twenty-four hours since you wanted to shoot me." + +"I only said I would, rather than let you go raising trouble for +me," explained Lingard. + +"One night isn't like another," mumbled Carter, "but how am I to +know? It seems to me you are making trouble for yourself as fast +as you can." + +"Well, supposing I am," said Lingard with sudden gloominess. +"Would your men fight if I armed them properly?" + +"What--for you or for themselves?" asked Carter. + +"For the woman," burst out Lingard. "You forget there's a woman +on board. I don't care THAT for their carcases." + +Carter pondered conscientiously. + +"Not to-night," he said at last. "There's one or two good men +amongst them, but the rest are struck all of a heap. Not +to-night. Give them time to get steady a bit if you want them to +fight." + +He gave facts and opinions with a mixture of loyalty and +mistrust. His own state puzzled him exceedingly. He couldn't make +out anything, he did not know what to believe and yet he had an +impulsive desire, an inspired desire to help the man. At times it +appeared a necessity --at others policy; between whiles a great +folly, which perhaps did not matter because he suspected himself +of being helpless anyway. Then he had moments of anger. In those +moments he would feel in his pocket the butt of a loaded pistol. +He had provided himself with the weapon, when directed by Mrs. +Travers to go on board the brig. + +"If he wants to interfere with me, I'll let drive at him and take +my chance of getting away," he had explained hurriedly. + +He remembered how startled Mrs. Travers looked. Of course, a +woman like that--not used to hear such talk. Therefore it was no +use listening to her, except for good manners' sake. Once bit +twice shy. He had no mind to be kidnapped, not he, nor bullied +either. + +"I can't let him nab me, too. You will want me now, Mrs. +Travers," he had said; "and I promise you not to fire off the old +thing unless he jolly well forces me to." + +He was youthfully wise in his resolution not to give way to her +entreaties, though her extraordinary agitation did stagger him +for a moment. When the boat was already on its way to the brig, +he remembered her calling out after him: + +"You must not! You don't understand." + +Her voice coming faintly in the darkness moved him, it resembled +so much a cry of distress. + +"Give way, boys, give way," he urged his men. + +He was wise, resolute, and he was also youthful enough to almost +wish it should "come to it." And with foresight he even +instructed the boat's crew to keep the gig just abaft the main +rigging of the brig. + +"When you see me drop into her all of a sudden, shove off and +pull for dear life." + +Somehow just then he was not so anxious for a shot, but he held +on with a determined mental grasp to his fine resolution, lest it +should slip away from him and perish in a sea of doubts. + +"Hadn't I better get back to the yacht?" he asked, gently. + +Getting no answer he went on with deliberation: + +"Mrs. Travers ordered me to say that no matter how this came +about she is ready to trust you. She is waiting for some kind of +answer, I suppose." + +"Ready to trust me," repeated Lingard. His eyes lit up fiercely. + +Every sway of flares tossed slightly to and fro the massy shadows +of the main deck, where here and there the figure of a man could +be seen standing very still with a dusky face and glittering +eyeballs. + +Carter stole his hand warily into his breast pocket: + +"Well, Captain," he said. He was not going to be bullied, let the +owner's wife trust whom she liked. + +"Have you got anything in writing for me there?" asked Lingard, +advancing a pace, exultingly. + +Carter, alert, stepped back to keep his distance. Shaw stared +from the side; his rubicund cheeks quivered, his round eyes +seemed starting out of his head, and his mouth was open as though +he had been ready to choke with pent-up curiosity, amazement, and +indignation. + +"No! Not in writing," said Carter, steadily and low. + +Lingard had the air of being awakened by a shout. A heavy and +darkening frown seemed to fall out of the night upon his forehead +and swiftly passed into the night again, and when it departed it +left him so calm, his glance so lucid, his mien so composed that +it was difficult to believe the man's heart had undergone within +the last second the trial of humiliation and of danger. He smiled +sadly: + +"Well, young man," he asked with a kind of good-humoured +resignation, "what is it you have there? A knife or a pistol?" + +"A pistol," said Carter. "Are you surprised, Captain?" He spoke +with heat because a sense of regret was stealing slowly within +him, as stealthily, as irresistibly as the flowing tide. "Who +began these tricks?" He withdrew his hand, empty, and raised his +voice. "You are up to something I can't make out. You--you are +not straight." + +The flares held on high streamed right up without swaying, and in +that instant of profound calm the shadows on the brig's deck +became as still as the men. + +"You think not?" said Lingard, thoughtfully. + +Carter nodded. He resented the turn of the incident and the +growing impulse to surrender to that man. + +"Mrs. Travers trusts me though," went on Lingard with gentle +triumph as if advancing an unanswerable argument. + +"So she says," grunted Carter; "I warned her. She's a baby. +They're all as innocent as babies there. And you know it. And I +know it. I've heard of your kind. You would dump the lot of us +overboard if it served your turn. That's what I think." + +"And that's all." + +Carter nodded slightly and looked away. There was a silence. +Lingard's eyes travelled over the brig. The lighted part of the +vessel appeared in bright and wavering detail walled and canopied +by the night. He felt a light breath on his face. The air was +stirring, but the Shallows, silent and lost in the darkness, gave +no sound of life. + +This stillness oppressed Lingard. The world of his endeavours and +his hopes seemed dead, seemed gone. His desire existed homeless +in the obscurity that had devoured his corner of the sea, this +stretch of the coast, his certitude of success. And here in the +midst of what was the domain of his adventurous soul there was a +lost youngster ready to shoot him on suspicion of some +extravagant treachery. Came ready to shoot! That's good, too! He +was too weary to laugh--and perhaps too sad. Also the danger of +the pistol-shot, which he believed real--the young are +rash--irritated him. The night and the spot were full of +contradictions. It was impossible to say who in this shadowy +warfare was to be an enemy, and who were the allies. So close +were the contacts issuing from this complication of a yachting +voyage, that he seemed to have them all within his breast. + +"Shoot me! He is quite up to that trick--damn him. Yet I would +trust him sooner than any man in that yacht." + +Such were his thoughts while he looked at Carter, who was biting +his lips, in the vexation of the long silence. When they spoke +again to each other they talked soberly, with a sense of relief, +as if they had come into cool air from an overheated room and +when Carter, dismissed, went into his boat, he had practically +agreed to the line of action traced by Lingard for the crew of +the yacht. He had agreed as if in implicit confidence. It was one +of the absurdities of the situation which had to be accepted and +could never be understood. + +"Do I talk straight now?" had asked Lingard. + +"It seems straight enough," assented Carter with an air of +reserve; "I will work with you so far anyhow." + +"Mrs. Travers trusts me," remarked Lingard again. + +"By the Lord Harry!" cried Carter, giving way suddenly to some +latent conviction. "I was warning her against you. Say, Captain, +you are a devil of a man. How did you manage it?" + +"I trusted her," said Lingard. + +"Did you?" cried the amazed Carter. "When? How? Where--" + +"You know too much already," retorted Lingard, quietly. "Waste no +time. I will be after you." + +Carter whistled low. + +"There's a pair of you I can't make out," he called back, +hurrying over the side. + +Shaw took this opportunity to approach. Beginning with +hesitation: "A word with you, sir," the mate went on to say he +was a respectable man. He delivered himself in a ringing, +unsteady voice. He was married, he had children, he abhorred +illegality. The light played about his obese figure, he had flung +his mushroom hat on the deck, he was not afraid to speak the +truth. The grey moustache stood out aggressively, his glances +were uneasy; he pressed his hands to his stomach convulsively, +opened his thick, short arms wide, wished it to be understood he +had been chief-officer of home ships, with a spotless character +and he hoped "quite up to his work." He was a peaceable man, none +more; disposed to stretch a point when it "came to a difference +with niggers of some kind--they had to be taught manners and +reason" and he was not averse at a pinch to--but here were white +people--gentlemen, ladies, not to speak of the crew. He had never +spoken to a superior like this before, and this was prudence, his +conviction, a point of view, a point of principle, a conscious +superiority and a burst of resentment hoarded through years +against all the successive and unsatisfactory captains of his +existence. There never had been such an opportunity to show he +could not be put upon. He had one of them on a string and he was +going to lead him a dance. There was courage, too, in it, since +he believed himself fallen unawares into the clutches of a +particularly desperate man and beyond the reach of law. + +A certain small amount of calculation entered the audacity of his +remonstrance. Perhaps--it flashed upon him--the yacht's gentry +will hear I stood up for them. This could conceivably be of +advantage to a man who wanted a lift in the world. "Owner of a +yacht--badly scared--a gentleman--money nothing to him." +Thereupon Shaw declared with heat that he couldn't be an +accessory either after or before the fact. Those that never went +home--who had nothing to go to perhaps--he interjected, +hurriedly, could do as they liked. He couldn't. He had a wife, a +family, a little house--paid for--with difficulty. He followed +the sea respectably out and home, all regular, not vagabonding +here and there, chumming with the first nigger that came along +and laying traps for his betters. + +One of the two flare bearers sighed at his elbow, and shifted his +weight to the other foot. + +These two had been keeping so perfectly still that the movement +was as startling as if a statue had changed its pose. After +looking at the offender with cold malevolence, Shaw went on to +speak of law-courts, of trials, and of the liberty of the +subject; then he pointed out the certitude and the inconvenience +of being found out, affecting for the moment the +dispassionateness of wisdom. + +"There will be fifteen years in gaol at the end of this job for +everybody," said Shaw, "and I have a boy that don't know his +father yet. Fine things for him to learn when he grows up. The +innocent are dead certain here to catch it along with you. The +missus will break her heart unless she starves first. Home sold +up." + +He saw a mysterious iniquity in a dangerous relation to himself +and began to lose his head. What he really wanted was to have his +existence left intact, for his own cherishing and pride. It was a +moral aspiration, but in his alarm the native grossness of his +nature came clattering out like a devil out of a trap. He would +blow the gaff, split, give away the whole show, he would back up +honest people, kiss the book, say what he thought, let all the +world know . . . and when he paused to draw breath, all around +him was silent and still. Before the impetus of that respectable +passion his words were scattered like chaff driven by a gale and +rushed headlong into the night of the Shallows. And in the great +obscurity, imperturbable, it heard him say he "washed his hands +of everything." + +"And the brig?" asked Lingard, suddenly. + +Shaw was checked. For a second the seaman in him instinctively +admitted the claim of the ship. + +"The brig. The brig. She's right enough," he mumbled. He had +nothing to say against the brig--not he. She wasn't like the big +ships he was used to, but of her kind the best craft he ever. . . +. And with a brusque return upon himself, he protested that he +had been decoyed on board under false pretences. It was as bad as +being shanghaied when in liquor. It was--upon his soul. And into +a craft next thing to a pirate! That was the name for it or his +own name was not Shaw. He said this glaring owlishly. Lingard, +perfectly still and mute, bore the blows without a sign. + +The silly fuss of that man seared his very soul. There was no end +to this plague of fools coming to him from the forgotten ends of +the earth. A fellow like that could not be told. No one could be +told. Blind they came and blind they would go out. He admitted +reluctantly, but without doubt, that as if pushed by a force from +outside he would have to try and save two of them. To this end he +foresaw the probable need of leaving his brig for a time. He +would have to leave her with that man. The mate. He had engaged +him himself--to make his insurance valid--to be able sometimes to +speak--to have near him. Who would have believed such a fool-man +could exist on the face of the sea! Who? Leave the brig with him. +The brig! + +Ever since sunset, the breeze kept off by the heat of the day had +been trying to re-establish in the darkness its sway over the +Shoals. Its approaches had been heard in the night, its patient +murmurs, its foiled sighs; but now a surprisingly heavy puff came +in a free rush as if, far away there to the northward, the last +defence of the calm had been victoriously carried. The flames +borne down streamed bluishly, horizontal and noisy at the end of +tall sticks, like fluttering pennants; and behold, the shadows on +the deck went mad and jostled each other as if trying to escape +from a doomed craft, the darkness, held up dome-like by the +brilliant glare, seemed to tumble headlong upon the brig in an +overwhelming downfall, the men stood swaying as if ready to fall +under the ruins of a black and noiseless disaster. The blurred +outlines of the brig, the masts, the rigging, seemed to shudder +in the terror of coming extinction--and then the darkness leaped +upward again, the shadows returned to their places, the men were +seen distinct, swarthy, with calm faces, with glittering +eyeballs. The destruction in the breath had passed, was gone. + +A discord of three voices raised together in a drawling wail +trailed on the sudden immobility of the air. + +"Brig ahoy! Give us a rope!" + +The first boat-load from the yacht emerged floating slowly into +the pool of purple light wavering round the brig on the black +water. Two men squeezed in the bows pulled uncomfortably; in the +middle, on a heap of seamen's canvas bags, another sat, insecure, +propped with both arms, stiff-legged, angularly helpless. The +light from the poop brought everything out in lurid detail, and +the boat floating slowly toward the brig had a suspicious and +pitiful aspect. The shabby load lumbering her looked somehow as +if it had been stolen by those men who resembled castaways. In +the sternsheets Carter, standing up, steered with his leg. He had +a smile of youthful sarcasm. + +"Here they are!" he cried to Lingard. "You've got your own way, +Captain. I thought I had better come myself with the first +precious lot--" + +"Pull around the stern. The brig's on the swing," interrupted +Lingard. + +"Aye, aye! We'll try not to smash the brig. We would be lost +indeed if--fend off there, John; fend off, old reliable, if you +care a pin for your salty hide. I like the old chap," he said, +when he stood by Lingard's side looking down at the boat which +was being rapidly cleared by whites and Malays working shoulder +to shoulder in silence. "I like him. He don't belong to that +yachting lot either. They picked him up on the road somewhere. +Look at the old dog--carved out of a ship's timber--as talkative +as a fish--grim as a gutted wreck. That's the man for me. All the +others there are married, or going to be, or ought to be, or +sorry they ain't. Every man jack of them has a petticoat in tow-- +dash me! Never heard in all my travels such a jabber about wives +and kids. Hurry up with your dunnage--below there! Aye! I had no +difficulty in getting them to clear out from the yacht. They +never saw a pair of gents stolen before--you understand. It upset +all their little notions of what a stranding means, hereabouts. +Not that mine aren't mixed a bit, too--and yet I've seen a thing +or two." + +His excitement was revealed in this boyish impulse to talk. + +"Look," he said, pointing at the growing pile of bags and bedding +on the brig's quarter-deck. "Look. Don't they mean to sleep +soft--and dream of home--maybe. Home. Think of that, Captain. +These chaps can't get clear away from it. It isn't like you and +me--" + +Lingard made a movement. + +"I ran away myself when so high. My old man's a Trinity pilot. +That's a job worth staying at home for. Mother writes sometimes, +but they can't miss me much. There's fourteen of us +altogether--eight at home yet. No fear of the old country ever +getting undermanned--let die who must. Only let it be a fair +game, Captain. Let's have a fair show." + +Lingard assured him briefly he should have it. That was the very +reason he wanted the yacht's crew in the brig, he added. Then +quiet and grave he inquired whether that pistol was still in +Carter's pocket. + +"Never mind that," said the young man, hurriedly. "Remember who +began. To be shot at wouldn't rile me so much--it's being +threatened, don't you see, that was heavy on my chest. Last night +is very far off though--and I will be hanged if I know what I +meant exactly when I took the old thing from its nail. There. +More I can't say till all's settled one way or another. Will that +do?" + +Flushing brick red, he suspended his judgment and stayed his hand +with the generosity of youth. + +. . . . . . . + +Apparently it suited Lingard to be reprieved in that form. He +bowed his head slowly. It would do. To leave his life to that +youngster's ignorance seemed to redress the balance of his mind +against a lot of secret intentions. It was distasteful and bitter +as an expiation should be. He also held a life in his hand; a +life, and many deaths besides, but these were like one single +feather in the scales of his conscience. That he should feel so +was unavoidable because his strength would at no price permit +itself to be wasted. It would not be--and there was an end of it. +All he could do was to throw in another risk into the sea of +risks. Thus was he enabled to recognize that a drop of water in +the ocean makes a great difference. His very desire, unconquered, +but exiled, had left the place where he could constantly hear its +voice. He saw it, he saw himself, the past, the future, he saw it +all, shifting and indistinct like those shapes the strained eye +of a wanderer outlines in darker strokes upon the face of the +night. + + + +X + +When Lingard went to his boat to follow Carter, who had gone back +to the yacht, Wasub, mast and sail on shoulder, preceded him down +the ladder. The old man leaped in smartly and busied himself in +getting the dinghy ready for his commander. + +In that little boat Lingard was accustomed to traverse the +Shallows alone. She had a short mast and a lug-sail, carried two +easily, floated in a few inches of water. In her he was +independent of a crew, and, if the wind failed, could make his +way with a pair of sculls taking short cuts over shoal places. +There were so many islets and sandbanks that in case of sudden +bad weather there was always a lee to be found, and when he +wished to land he could pull her up a beach, striding ahead, +painter in hand, like a giant child dragging a toy boat. When the +brig was anchored within the Shallows it was in her that he +visited the lagoon. Once, when caught by a sudden freshening of +the sea-breeze, he had waded up a shelving bank carrying her on +his head and for two days they had rested together on the sand, +while around them the shallow waters raged lividly, and across +three miles of foam the brig would time after time dissolve in +the mist and re-appear distinct, nodding her tall spars that +seemed to touch a weeping sky of lamentable greyness. + +Whenever he came into the lagoon tugging with bare arms, +Jorgenson, who would be watching the entrance of the creek ever +since a muffled detonation of a gun to seaward had warned him of +the brig's arrival on the Shore of Refuge, would mutter to +himself--"Here's Tom coming in his nutshell." And indeed she was +in shape somewhat like half a nutshell and also in the colour of +her dark varnished planks. The man's shoulders and head rose high +above her gunwales; loaded with Lingard's heavy frame she would +climb sturdily the steep ridges, slide squatting into the hollows +of the sea, or, now and then, take a sedate leap over a short +wave. Her behaviour had a stout trustworthiness about it, and she +reminded one of a surefooted mountain-pony carrying over +difficult ground a rider much bigger than himself. + +Wasub wiped the thwarts, ranged the mast and sail along the side, +shipped the rowlocks. Lingard looked down at his old servant's +spare shoulders upon which the light from above fell unsteady but +vivid. Wasub worked for the comfort of his commander and his +singleminded absorption in that task flashed upon Lingard the +consolation of an act of friendliness. The elderly Malay at last +lifted his head with a deferential murmur; his wrinkled old face +with half a dozen wiry hairs pendulous at each corner of the dark +lips expressed a kind of weary satisfaction, and the slightly +oblique worn eyes stole a discreet upward glance containing a +hint of some remote meaning. Lingard found himself compelled by +the justice of that obscure claim to murmur as he stepped into +the boat: + +"These are times of danger." + +He sat down and took up the sculls. Wasub held on to the gunwale +as to a last hope of a further confidence. He had served in the +brig five years. Lingard remembered that very well. This aged +figure had been intimately associated with the brig's life and +with his own, appearing silently ready for every incident and +emergency in an unquestioning expectation of orders; symbolic of +blind trust in his strength, of an unlimited obedience to his +will. Was it unlimited? + +"We shall require courage and fidelity," added Lingard, in a +tentative tone. + +"There are those who know me," snapped the old man, readily, as +if the words had been waiting for a long time. "Observe, Tuan. I +have filled with fresh water the little breaker in the bows." + +"I know you, too," said Lingard. + +"And the wind--and the sea," ejaculated the serang, jerkily. +"These also are faithful to the strong. By Allah! I who am a +pilgrim and have listened to words of wisdom in many places, I +tell you, Tuan, there is strength in the knowledge of what is +hidden in things without life, as well as in the living men. +Will Tuan be gone long?" + +"I come back in a short time--together with the rest of the +whites from over there. This is the beginning of many stratagems. +Wasub! Daman, the son of a dog, has suddenly made prisoners two +of my own people. My face is made black." + +"Tse! Tse! What ferocity is that! One should not offer shame to a +friend or to a friend's brother lest revenge come sweeping like a +flood. Yet can an Illanun chief be other than tyrannical? My old +eyes have seen much but they never saw a tiger change its +stripes. Ya-wa! The tiger can not. This is the wisdom of us +ignorant Malay men. The wisdom of white Tuans is great. They +think that by the power of many speeches the tiger may--" He +broke off and in a crisp, busy tone said: "The rudder dwells +safely under the aftermost seat should Tuan be pleased to sail +the boat. This breeze will not die away before sunrise." Again +his voice changed as if two different souls had been flitting in +and out of his body. "No, no, kill the tiger and then the stripes +may be counted without fear--one by one, thus." + +He pointed a frail brown finger and, abruptly, made a mirthless +dry sound as if a rattle had been sprung in his throat. + +"The wretches are many," said Lingard. + +"Nay, Tuan. They follow their great men even as we in the brig +follow you. That is right." + +Lingard reflected for a moment. + +"My men will follow me then," he said. + +"They are poor calashes without sense," commented Wasub with +pitying superiority. "Some with no more comprehension than men of +the bush freshly caught. There is Sali, the foolish son of my +sister and by your great favour appointed to mind the tiller of +this ship. His stupidity is extreme, but his eyes are +good--nearly as good as mine that by praying and much exercise +can see far into the night." + +Lingard laughed low and then looked earnestly at the serang. +Above their heads a man shook a flare over the side and a thin +shower of sparks floated downward and expired before touching the +water. + +"So you can see in the night, O serang! Well, then, look and +speak. Speak! Fight--or no fight? Weapons or words? Which folly? +Well, what do you see?" + +"A darkness, a darkness," whispered Wasub at last in a frightened +tone. "There are nights--" He shook his head and muttered. "Look. +The tide has turned. Ya, Tuan. The tide has turned." + +Lingard looked downward where the water could be seen, gliding +past the ship's side, moving smoothly, streaked with lines of +froth, across the illumined circle thrown round the brig by the +lights on her poop. Air bubbles sparkled, lines of darkness, +ripples of glitter appeared, glided, went astern without a +splash, without a trickle, without a plaint, without a break. The +unchecked gentleness of the flow captured the eye by a subtle +spell, fastened insidiously upon the mind a disturbing sense of +the irretrievable. The ebbing of the sea athwart the lonely sheen +of flames resembled the eternal ebb-tide of time; and when at +last Lingard looked up, the knowledge of that noiseless passage +of the waters produced on his mind a bewildering effect. For a +moment the speck of light lost in vast obscurity the brig, the +boat, the hidden coast, the Shallows, the very walls and roof of +darkness--the seen and the unseen alike seemed to be gliding +smoothly onward through the enormous gloom of space. Then, with a +great mental effort, he brought everything to a sudden +standstill; and only the froth and bubbles went on streaming past +ceaselessly, unchecked by the power of his will. + +"The tide has turned--you say, serang? Has it--? Well, perhaps it +has, perhaps it has," he finished, muttering to himself. + +"Truly it has. Can not Tuan see it run under his own eyes?" said +Wasub with an alarmed earnestness. "Look. Now it is in my mind +that a prau coming from amongst the southern islands, if steered +cunningly in the free set of the current, would approach the bows +of this, our brig, drifting silently as a shape without a +substance." + +"And board suddenly--is that it?" said Lingard. + +"Daman is crafty and the Illanuns are very bloodthirsty. Night is +nothing to them. They are certainly valorous. Are they not born +in the midst of fighting and are they not inspired by the evil of +their hearts even before they can speak? And their chiefs would +be leading them while you, Tuan, are going from us even now--" + +"You don't want me to go?" asked Lingard. + +For a time Wasub listened attentively to the profound silence. + +"Can we fight without a leader?" he began again. "It is the +belief in victory that gives courage. And what would poor +calashes do, sons of peasants and fishermen, freshly +caught--without knowledge? They believe in your strength--and in +your power--or else--Will those whites that came so suddenly +avenge you? They are here like fish within the stakes. Ya-wa! Who +will bring the news and who will come to find the truth and +perchance to carry off your body? You go alone, Tuan!" + +"There must be no fighting. It would be a calamity," insisted +Lingard. "There is blood that must not be spilt." + +"Hear, Tuan!" exclaimed Wasub with heat. "The waters are running +out now." He punctuated his speech by slight jerks at the dinghy. +"The waters go and at the appointed time they shall return. And +if between their going and coming the blood of all the men in the +world were poured into it, the sea would not rise higher at the +full by the breadth of my finger nail." + +"But the world would not be the same. You do not see that, +serang. Give the boat a good shove." + +"Directly," said the old Malay and his face became impassive. +"Tuan knows when it is best to go, and death sometimes retreats +before a firm tread like a startled snake. Tuan should take a +follower with him, not a silly youth, but one who has lived--who +has a steady heart--who would walk close behind watchfully --and +quietly. Yes. Quietly and with quick eyes--like mine-- perhaps +with a weapon--I know how to strike." + +Lingard looked at the wrinkled visage very near his own and into +the peering old eyes. They shone strangely. A tense eagerness was +expressed in the squatting figure leaning out toward him. On the +other side, within reach of his arm, the night stood like a wall +-discouraging--opaque--impenetrable. No help would avail. The +darkness he had to combat was too impalpable to be cleft by a +blow--too dense to be pierced by the eye; yet as if by some +enchantment in the words that made this vain offer of fidelity, +it became less overpowering to his sight, less crushing to his +thought. He had a moment of pride which soothed his heart for the +space of two beats. His unreasonable and misjudged heart, +shrinking before the menace of failure, expanded freely with a +sense of generous gratitude. In the threatening dimness of his +emotions this man's offer made a point of clearness, the glimmer +of a torch held aloft in the night. It was priceless, no doubt, +but ineffectual; too small, too far, too solitary. It did not +dispel the mysterious obscurity that had descended upon his +fortunes so that his eyes could no longer see the work of his +hands. The sadness of defeat pervaded the world. + +"And what could you do, O Wasub?" he said. + +"I could always call out--'Take care, Tuan.'" + +"And then for these charm-words of mine. Hey? Turn danger aside? +What? But perchance you would die all the same. Treachery is a +strong magic, too--as you said." + +"Yes, indeed! The order might come to your servant. But I--Wasub- +-the son of a free man, a follower of Rajahs, a fugitive, a +slave, a pilgrim--diver for pearls, serang of white men's ships, +I have had too many masters. Too many. You are the last." After a +silence he said in an almost indifferent voice: "If you go, Tuan, +let us go together." + +For a time Lingard made no sound. + +"No use," he said at last. "No use, serang. One life is enough to +pay for a man's folly--and you have a household." + +"I have two--Tuan; but it is a long time since I sat on the +ladder of a house to talk at ease with neighbours. Yes. Two +households; one in--" Lingard smiled faintly. "Tuan, let me +follow you." + +"No. You have said it, serang--I am alone. That is true, and +alone I shall go on this very night. But first I must bring all +the white people here. Push." + +"Ready, Tuan? Look out!" + +Wasub's body swung over the sea with extended arms. Lingard +caught up the sculls, and as the dinghy darted away from the +brig's side he had a complete view of the lighted poop--Shaw +leaning massively over the taffrail in sulky dejection, the flare +bearers erect and rigid, the heads along the rail, the eyes +staring after him above the bulwarks. The fore-end of the brig +was wrapped in a lurid and sombre mistiness; the sullen mingling +of darkness and of light; her masts pointing straight up could be +tracked by torn gleams and vanished above as if the trucks had +been tall enough to pierce the heavy mass of vapours motionless +overhead. She was beautifully precious. His loving eyes saw her +floating at rest in a wavering halo, between an invisible sky and +an invisible sea, like a miraculous craft suspended in the air. +He turned his head away as if the sight had been too much for him +at the moment of separation, and, as soon as his little boat had +passed beyond the limit of the light thrown upon the water, he +perceived very low in the black void of the west the stern +lantern of the yacht shining feebly like a star about to set, +unattainable, infinitely remote--belonging to another universe. + + + +PART IV. THE GIFT OF THE SHALLOWS + +I + +Lingard brought Mrs. Travers away from the yacht, going alone +with her in the little boat. During the bustle of the embarkment, +and till the last of the crew had left the schooner, he had +remained towering and silent by her side. It was only when the +murmuring and uneasy voices of the sailors going away in the +boats had been completely lost in the distance that his voice was +heard, grave in the silence, pronouncing the words --"Follow me." +She followed him; their footsteps rang hollow and loud on the +empty deck. At the bottom of the steps he turned round and said +very low: + +"Take care." + +He got into the boat and held on. It seemed to him that she was +intimidated by the darkness. She felt her arm gripped +firmly--"I've got you," he said. She stepped in, headlong, +trusting herself blindly to his grip, and sank on the stern seat +catching her breath a little. She heard a slight splash, and the +indistinct side of the deserted yacht melted suddenly into the +body of the night. + +Rowing, he faced her, a hooded and cloaked shape, and above her +head he had before his eyes the gleam of the stern lantern +expiring slowly on the abandoned vessel. When it went out without +a warning flicker he could see nothing of the stranded yacht's +outline. She had vanished utterly like a dream; and the +occurrences of the last twenty-four hours seemed also to be a +part of a vanished dream. The hooded and cloaked figure was part +of it, too. It spoke not; it moved not; it would vanish +presently. Lingard tried to remember Mrs. Travers' features, even +as she sat within two feet of him in the boat. He seemed to have +taken from that vanished schooner not a woman but a memory--the +tormenting recollection of a human being he would see no more. + +At every stroke of the short sculls Mrs. Travers felt the boat +leap forward with her. Lingard, to keep his direction, had to +look over his shoulder frequently--"You will be safe in the +brig," he said. She was silent. A dream! A dream! He lay back +vigorously; the water slapped loudly against the blunt bows. The +ruddy glow thrown afar by the flares was reflected deep within +the hood. The dream had a pale visage, the memory had living +eyes. + +"I had to come for you myself," he said. + +"I expected it of you." These were the first words he had heard +her say since they had met for the third time. + +"And I swore--before you, too--that I would never put my foot on +board your craft." + +"It was good of you to--" she began. + +"I forgot somehow," he said, simply. + +"I expected it of you," she repeated. He gave three quick strokes +before he asked very gently: + +"What more do you expect?" + +"Everything," she said. He was rounding then the stern of the +brig and had to look away. Then he turned to her. + +"And you trust me to--" he exclaimed. + +"I would like to trust you," she interrupted, "because--" + +Above them a startled voice cried in Malay, "Captain coming." The +strange sound silenced her. Lingard laid in his sculls and she +saw herself gliding under the high side of the brig. A dark, +staring face appeared very near her eyes, black fingers caught +the gunwale of the boat. She stood up swaying. "Take care," said +Lingard again, but this time, in the light, did not offer to help +her. She went up alone and he followed her over the rail. + +The quarter-deck was thronged by men of two races. Lingard and +Mrs. Travers crossed it rapidly between the groups that moved out +of the way on their passage. Lingard threw open the cabin door +for her, but remained on deck to inquire about his boats. They +had returned while he was on board the yacht, and the two men in +charge of them came aft to make their reports. The boat sent +north had seen nothing. The boat which had been directed to +explore the banks and islets to the south had actually been in +sight of Daman's praus. The man in charge reported that several +fires were burning on the shore, the crews of the two praus being +encamped on a sandbank. Cooking was going on. They had been near +enough to hear the voices. There was a man keeping watch on the +ridge; they knew this because they heard him shouting to the +people below, by the fires. Lingard wanted to know how they had +managed to remain unseen. "The night was our hiding place," +answered the man in his deep growling voice. He knew nothing of +any white men being in Daman's camp. Why should there be? Rajah +Hassim and the Lady, his sister, appeared unexpectedly near his +boat in their canoe. Rajah Hassim had ordered him then in +whispers to go back to the brig at once, and tell Tuan what he +had observed. Rajah Hassim said also that he would return to the +brig with more news very soon. He obeyed because the Rajah was to +him a person of authority, "having the perfect knowledge of +Tuan's mind as we all know."--"Enough," cried Lingard, suddenly. + +The man looked up heavily for a moment, and retreated forward +without another word. Lingard followed him with irritated eyes. A +new power had come into the world, had possessed itself of human +speech, had imparted to it a sinister irony of allusion. To be +told that someone had "a perfect knowledge of his mind" startled +him and made him wince. It made him aware that now he did not +know his mind himself--that it seemed impossible for him ever to +regain that knowledge. And the new power not only had cast its +spell upon the words he had to hear, but also upon the facts that +assailed him, upon the people he saw, upon the thoughts he had to +guide, upon the feelings he had to bear. They remained what they +had ever been--the visible surface of life open in the sun to the +conquering tread of an unfettered will. Yesterday they could have +been discerned clearly, mastered and despised; but now another +power had come into the world, and had cast over them all the +wavering gloom of a dark and inscrutable purpose. + + + +II + +Recovering himself with a slight start Lingard gave the order to +extinguish all the lights in the brig. Now the transfer of the +crew from the yacht had been effected there was every advantage +in the darkness. He gave the order from instinct, it being the +right thing to do in the circumstances. His thoughts were in the +cabin of his brig, where there was a woman waiting. He put his +hand over his eyes, collecting himself as if before a great +mental effort. He could hear about him the excited murmurs of the +white men whom in the morning he had so ardently desired to have +safe in his keeping. He had them there now; but accident, +ill-luck, a cursed folly, had tricked him out of the success of +his plan. He would have to go in and talk to Mrs. Travers. The +idea dismayed him. Of necessity he was not one of those men who +have the mastery of expression. To liberate his soul was for him +a gigantic undertaking, a matter of desperate effort, of doubtful +success. "I must have it out with her," he murmured to himself as +though at the prospect of a struggle. He was uncertain of +himself, of her; he was uncertain of everything and everybody; +but he was very certain he wanted to look at her. + +At the moment he turned to the door of the cabin both flares went +out together and the black vault of the night upheld above the +brig by the fierce flames fell behind him and buried the deck in +sudden darkness. The buzz of strange voices instantly hummed +louder with a startled note. "Hallo!"--"Can't see a mortal +thing"--"Well, what next?"--insisted a voice--"I want to know +what next?" + +Lingard checked himself ready to open the door and waited +absurdly for the answer as though in the hope of some suggestion. +"What's up with you? Think yourself lucky," said somebody.--"It's +all very well--for to-night," began the voice.--"What are you +fashing yourself for?" remonstrated the other, reasonably, "we'll +get home right enough."--"I am not so sure; the second mate he +says--" "Never mind what he says; that 'ere man who has got this +brig will see us through. The owner's wife will talk to him--she +will. Money can do a lot." The two voices came nearer, and spoke +more distinctly, close behind Lingard. "Suppose them blooming +savages set fire to the yacht. What's to prevent them?"--"And +suppose they do. This 'ere brig's good enough to get away in. +Ain't she? Guns and all. We'll get home yet all right. What do +you say, John?" + +"I say nothing and care less," said a third voice, peaceful and +faint. + +"D'you mean to say, John, you would go to the bottom as soon as +you would go home? Come now!"--"To the bottom," repeated the wan +voice, composedly. "Aye! That's where we all are going to, in one +way or another. The way don't matter." + +"Ough! You would give the blues to the funny man of a blooming +circus. What would my missus say if I wasn't to turn up never at +all?"--"She would get another man; there's always plenty of fools +about." A quiet and mirthless chuckle was heard in the pause of +shocked silence. Lingard, with his hand on the door, remained +still. Further off a growl burst out: "I do hate to be chucked in +the dark aboard a strange ship. I wonder where they keep their +fresh water. Can't get any sense out of them silly niggers. We +don't seem to be more account here than a lot of cattle. Likely +as not we'll have to berth on this blooming quarter-deck for God +knows how long." Then again very near Lingard the first voice +said, deadened discreetly-- "There's something curious about this +here brig turning up sudden-like, ain't there? And that skipper +of her--now? What kind of a man is he--anyhow?" + +"Oh, he's one of them skippers going about loose. The brig's his +own, I am thinking. He just goes about in her looking for what he +may pick up honest or dishonest. My brother-in-law has served two +commissions in these seas, and was telling me awful yarns about +what's going on in them God-forsaken parts. Likely he lied, +though. Them man-of-war's men are a holy terror for yarns. Bless +you, what do I care who this skipper is? Let him do his best and +don't trouble your head. You won't see him again in your life +once we get clear." + +"And can he do anything for the owner?" asked the first voice +again.--"Can he! We can do nothing--that's one thing certain. The +owner may be lying clubbed to death this very minute for all we +know. By all accounts these savages here are a crool murdering +lot. Mind you, I am sorry for him as much as anybody."--"Aye, +aye," muttered the other, approvingly. --"He may not have been +ready, poor man," began again the reasonable voice. Lingard heard +a deep sigh.--"If there's anything as can be done for him, the +owner's wife she's got to fix it up with this 'ere skipper. Under +Providence he may serve her turn." + +Lingard flung open the cabin door, entered, and, with a slam, +shut the darkness out. + +"I am, under Providence, to serve your turn," he said after +standing very still for a while, with his eyes upon Mrs. Travers. +The brig's swing-lamp lighted the cabin with an extraordinary +brilliance. Mrs. Travers had thrown back her hood. The radiant +brightness of the little place enfolded her so close, clung to +her with such force that it might have been part of her very +essence. There were no shadows on her face; it was fiercely +lighted, hermetically closed, of impenetrable fairness. + +Lingard looked in unconscious ecstasy at this vision, so amazing +that it seemed to have strayed into his existence from beyond the +limits of the conceivable. It was impossible to guess her +thoughts, to know her feelings, to understand her grief or her +joy. But she knew all that was at the bottom of his heart. He had +told her himself, impelled by a sudden thought, going to her in +darkness, in desperation, in absurd hope, in incredible trust. He +had told her what he had told no one on earth, except perhaps, at +times, himself, but without words--less clearly. He had told her +and she had listened in silence. She had listened leaning over +the rail till at last her breath was on his forehead. He +remembered this and had a moment of soaring pride and of +unutterable dismay. He spoke, with an effort. + +"You've heard what I said just now? Here I am." + +"Do you expect me to say something?" she asked. "Is it necessary? +Is it possible?" + +"No," he answered. "It is said already. I know what you expect +from me. Everything." + +"Everything," she repeated, paused, and added much lower, "It is +the very least." He seemed to lose himself in thought. + +"It is extraordinary," he reflected half aloud, "how I dislike +that man." She leaned forward a little. + +"Remember those two men are innocent," she began. + +"So am I--innocent. So is everybody in the world. Have you ever +met a man or a woman that was not? They've got to take their +chances all the same." + +"I expect you to be generous," she said. + +"To you?" + +"Well--to me. Yes--if you like to me alone." + +"To you alone! And you know everything!" His voice dropped. "You +want your happiness." + +She made an impatient movement and he saw her clench the hand +that was lying on the table. + +"I want my husband back," she said, sharply. + +"Yes. Yes. It's what I was saying. Same thing," he muttered with +strange placidity. She looked at him searchingly. He had a large +simplicity that filled one's vision. She found herself slowly +invaded by this masterful figure. He was not mediocre. Whatever +he might have been he was not mediocre. The glamour of a lawless +life stretched over him like the sky over the sea down on all +sides to an unbroken horizon. Within, he moved very lonely, +dangerous and romantic. There was in him crime, sacrifice, +tenderness, devotion, and the madness of a fixed idea. She +thought with wonder that of all the men in the world he was +indeed the one she knew the best and yet she could not foresee +the speech or the act of the next minute. She said distinctly: + +"You've given me your confidence. Now I want you to give me the +life of these two men. The life of two men whom you do not know, +whom to-morrow you will forget. It can be done. It must be done. +You cannot refuse them to me." She waited. + +"Why can't I refuse?" he whispered, gloomily, without looking up. + +"You ask!" she exclaimed. He made no sign. He seemed at a loss +for words. + +"You ask . . . Ah!" she cried. "Don't you see that I have no +kingdoms to conquer?" + + + +III + +A slight change of expression which passed away almost directly +showed that Lingard heard the passionate cry wrung from her by +the distress of her mind. He made no sign. She perceived clearly +the extreme difficulty of her position. The situation was +dangerous; not so much the facts of it as the feeling of it. At +times it appeared no more actual than a tradition; and she +thought of herself as of some woman in a ballad, who has to beg +for the lives of innocent captives. To save the lives of Mr. +Travers and Mr. d'Alcacer was more than a duty. It was a +necessity, it was an imperative need, it was an irresistible +mission. Yet she had to reflect upon the horrors of a cruel and +obscure death before she could feel for them the pity they +deserved. It was when she looked at Lingard that her heart was +wrung by an extremity of compassion. The others were pitiful, but +he, the victim of his own extravagant impulses, appeared tragic, +fascinating, and culpable. Lingard lifted his head. Whispers were +heard at the door and Hassim followed by Immada entered the +cabin. + +Mrs. Travers looked at Lingard, because of all the faces in the +cabin his was the only one that was intelligible to her. Hassim +began to speak at once, and when he ceased Immada's deep sigh was +heard in the sudden silence. Then Lingard looked at Mrs. Travers +and said: + +"The gentlemen are alive. Rajah Hassim here has seen them less +than two hours ago, and so has the girl. They are alive and +unharmed, so far. And now. . . ." + +He paused. Mrs. Travers, leaning on her elbow, shaded her eyes +under the glint of suspended thunderbolts. + +"You must hate us," she murmured. + +"Hate you," he repeated with, as she fancied, a tinge of disdain +in his tone. "No. I hate myself." + +"Why yourself?" she asked, very low. + +"For not knowing my mind," he answered. "For not knowing my mind. +For not knowing what it is that's got hold of me since--since +this morning. I was angry then. . . . Nothing but very angry. . . +." + +"And now?" she murmured. + +"I am . . . unhappy," he said. After a moment of silence which +gave to Mrs. Travers the time to wonder how it was that this man +had succeeded in penetrating into the very depths of her +compassion, he hit the table such a blow that all the heavy +muskets seemed to jump a little. + +Mrs. Travers heard Hassim pronounce a few words earnestly, and a +moan of distress from Immada. + +"I believed in you before you . . . before you gave me your +confidence," she began. "You could see that. Could you not?" + +He looked at her fixedly. "You are not the first that believed in +me," he said. + +Hassim, lounging with his back against the closed door, kept his +eye on him watchfully and Immada's dark and sorrowful eyes rested +on the face of the white woman. Mrs. Travers felt as though she +were engaged in a contest with them; in a struggle for the +possession of that man's strength and of that man's devotion. +When she looked up at Lingard she saw on his face--which should +have been impassive or exalted, the face of a stern leader or the +face of a pitiless dreamer--an expression of utter forgetfulness. +He seemed to be tasting the delight of some profound and amazing +sensation. And suddenly in the midst of her appeal to his +generosity, in the middle of a phrase, Mrs. Travers faltered, +becoming aware that she was the object of his contemplation. + +"Do not! Do not look at that woman!" cried Immada. "O! +Master--look away. . . ." Hassim threw one arm round the girl's +neck. Her voice sank. "O! Master--look at us." Hassim, drawing +her to himself, covered her lips with his hand. She struggled a +little like a snared bird and submitted, hiding her face on his +shoulder, very quiet, sobbing without noise. + +"What do they say to you?" asked Mrs. Travers with a faint and +pained smile. "What can they say? It is intolerable to think that +their words which have no meaning for me may go straight to your +heart. . . ." + +"Look away," whispered Lingard without making the slightest +movement. + +Mrs. Travers sighed. + +"Yes, it is very hard to think that I who want to touch you +cannot make myself understood as well as they. And yet I speak +the language of your childhood, the language of the man for whom +there is no hope but in your generosity." + +He shook his head. She gazed at him anxiously for a moment. "In +your memories then," she said and was surprised by the expression +of profound sadness that over-spread his attentive face. + +"Do you know what I remember?" he said. "Do you want to know?" +She listened with slightly parted lips. "I will tell you. +Poverty, hard work--and death," he went on, very quietly. "And +now I've told you, and you don't know. That's how it is between +us. You talk to me--I talk to you--and we don't know." + +Her eyelids dropped. + +"What can I find to say?" she went on. "What can I do? I mustn't +give in. Think! Amongst your memories there must be some +face--some voice--some name, if nothing more. I can not believe +that there is nothing but bitterness." + +"There's no bitterness," he murmured. + +"O! Brother, my heart is faint with fear," whispered Immada. +Lingard turned swiftly to that whisper. + +"Then, they are to be saved," exclaimed Mrs. Travers. "Ah, I +knew. . . ." + +"Bear thy fear in patience," said Hassim, rapidly, to his sister. + +"They are to be saved. You have said it," Lingard pronounced +aloud, suddenly. He felt like a swimmer who, in the midst of +superhuman efforts to reach the shore, perceives that the +undertow is taking him to sea. He would go with the mysterious +current; he would go swiftly--and see the end, the fulfilment +both blissful and terrible. + +With this state of exaltation in which he saw himself in some +incomprehensible way always victorious, whatever might befall, +there was mingled a tenacity of purpose. He could not sacrifice +his intention, the intention of years, the intention of his life; +he could no more part with it and exist than he could cut out his +heart and live. The adventurer held fast to his adventure which +made him in his own sight exactly what he was. + +He considered the problem with cool audacity, backed by a belief +in his own power. It was not these two men he had to save; he had +to save himself! And looked upon in this way the situation +appeared familiar. + +Hassim had told him the two white men had been taken by their +captors to Daman's camp. The young Rajah, leaving his sister in +the canoe, had landed on the sand and had crept to the very edge +of light thrown by the fires by which the Illanuns were cooking. +Daman was sitting apart by a larger blaze. Two praus rode in +shallow water near the sandbank; on the ridge, a sentry walked +watching the lights of the brig; the camp was full of quiet +whispers. Hassim returned to his canoe, then he and his sister, +paddling cautiously round the anchored praus, in which women's +voices could be heard, approached the other end of the camp. The +light of the big blaze there fell on the water and the canoe +skirted it without a splash, keeping in the night. Hassim, +landing for the second time, crept again close to the fires. Each +prau had, according to the customs of the Illanun rovers when on +a raiding expedition, a smaller war-boat and these being light +and manageable were hauled up on the sand not far from the big +blaze; they sat high on the shelving shore throwing heavy +shadows. Hassim crept up toward the largest of them and then +standing on tiptoe could look at the camp across the gunwales. +The confused talking of the men was like the buzz of insects in a +forest. A child wailed on board one of the praus and a woman +hailed the shore shrilly. Hassim unsheathed his kris and held it +in his hand. + +Very soon--he said--he saw the two white men walking amongst the +fires. They waved their arms and talked together, stopping from +time to time; they approached Daman; and the short man with the +hair on his face addressed him earnestly and at great length. +Daman sat crosslegged upon a little carpet with an open Koran on +his knees and chanted the versets swaying to and fro with his +eyes shut. + +The Illanun chiefs reclining wrapped in cloaks on the ground +raised themselves on their elbows to look at the whites. When the +short white man finished speaking he gazed down at them for a +while, then stamped his foot. He looked angry because no one +understood him. Then suddenly he looked very sad; he covered his +face with his hands; the tall man put his hand on the short man's +shoulder and whispered into his ear. The dry wood of the fires +crackled, the Illanuns slept, cooked, talked, but with their +weapons at hand. An armed man or two came up to stare at the +prisoners and then returned to their fire. The two whites sank +down in the sand in front of Daman. Their clothes were soiled, +there was sand in their hair. The tall man had lost his hat; the +glass in the eye of the short man glittered very much; his back +was muddy and one sleeve of his coat torn up to the elbow. + +All this Hassim saw and then retreated undetected to that part of +the shore where Immada waited for him, keeping the canoe afloat. +The Illanuns, trusting to the sea, kept very bad watch on their +prisoners, and had he been able to speak with them Hassim thought +an escape could have been effected. But they could not have +understood his signs and still less his words. He consulted with +his sister. Immada murmured sadly; at their feet the ripple broke +with a mournful sound no louder than their voices. + +Hassim's loyalty was unshaken, but now it led him on not in the +bright light of hopes but in the deepened shadow of doubt. He +wanted to obtain information for his friend who was so powerful +and who perhaps would know how to be constant. When followed by +Immada he approached the camp again--this time openly--their +appearance did not excite much surprise. It was well known to the +Chiefs of the Illanuns that the Rajah for whom they were to +fight--if God so willed --was upon the shoals looking out for the +coming of the white man who had much wealth and a store of +weapons and who was his servant. Daman, who alone understood the +exact relation, welcomed them with impenetrable gravity. Hassim +took his seat on the carpet at his right hand. A consultation was +being held half-aloud in short and apparently careless sentences, +with long intervals of silence between. Immada, nestling close to +her brother, leaned one arm on his shoulder and listened with +serious attention and with outward calm as became a princess of +Wajo accustomed to consort with warriors and statesmen in moments +of danger and in the hours of deliberation. Her heart was beating +rapidly, and facing her the silent white men stared at these two +known faces, as if across a gulf. Four Illanun chiefs sat in a +row. Their ample cloaks fell from their shoulders, and lay behind +them on the sand in which their four long lances were planted +upright, each supporting a small oblong shield of wood, carved on +the edges and stained a dull purple. Daman stretched out his arm +and pointed at the prisoners. The faces of the white men were +very quiet. Daman looked at them mutely and ardently, as if +consumed by an unspeakable longing. + +The Koran, in a silk cover, hung on his breast by a crimson cord. +It rested over his heart and, just below, the plain buffalo-horn +handle of a kris, stuck into the twist of his sarong, protruded +ready to his hand. The clouds thickening over the camp made the +darkness press heavily on the glow of scattered fires. "There is +blood between me and the whites," he pronounced, violently. The +Illanun chiefs remained impassive. There was blood between them +and all mankind. Hassim remarked dispassionately that there was +one white man with whom it would be wise to remain friendly; and +besides, was not Daman his friend already? Daman smiled with +half-closed eyes. He was that white man's friend, not his slave. +The Illanuns playing with their sword-handles grunted assent. +Why, asked Daman, did these strange whites travel so far from +their country? The great white man whom they all knew did not +want them. No one wanted them. Evil would follow in their +footsteps. They were such men as are sent by rulers to examine +the aspects of far-off countries and talk of peace and make +treaties. Such is the beginning of great sorrows. The Illanuns +were far from their country, where no white man dared to come, +and therefore they were free to seek their enemies upon the open +waters. They had found these two who had come to see. He asked +what they had come to see? Was there nothing to look at in their +own country? + +He talked in an ironic and subdued tone. The scattered heaps of +embers glowed a deeper red; the big blaze of the chief's fire +sank low and grew dim before he ceased. Straight-limbed figures +rose, sank, moved, whispered on the beach. Here and there a +spear-blade caught a red gleam above the black shape of a head. + +"The Illanuns seek booty on the sea," cried Daman. "Their fathers +and the fathers of their fathers have done the same, being +fearless like those who embrace death closely." + +A low laugh was heard. "We strike and go," said an exulting +voice. "We live and die with our weapons in our hands." The +Illanuns leaped to their feet. They stamped on the sand, +flourishing naked blades over the heads of their prisoners. A +tumult arose. + +When it subsided Daman stood up in a cloak that wrapped him to +his feet and spoke again giving advice. + +The white men sat on the sand and turned their eyes from face to +face as if trying to understand. It was agreed to send the +prisoners into the lagoon where their fate would be decided by +the ruler of the land. The Illanuns only wanted to plunder the +ship. They did not care what became of the men. "But Daman +cares," remarked Hassim to Lingard, when relating what took +place. "He cares, O Tuan!" + +Hassim had learned also that the Settlement was in a state of +unrest as if on the eve of war. Belarab with his followers was +encamped by his father's tomb in the hollow beyond the cultivated +fields. His stockade was shut up and no one appeared on the +verandahs of the houses within. You could tell there were people +inside only by the smoke of the cooking fires. Tengga's followers +meantime swaggered about the Settlement behaving tyrannically to +those who were peaceable. A great madness had descended upon the +people, a madness strong as the madness of love, the madness of +battle, the desire to spill blood. A strange fear also had made +them wild. The big smoke seen that morning above the forests of +the coast was some agreed signal from Tengga to Daman but what it +meant Hassim had been unable to find out. He feared for +Jorgenson's safety. He said that while one of the war-boats was +being made ready to take the captives into the lagoon, he and his +sister left the camp quietly and got away in their canoe. The +flares of the brig, reflected in a faint loom upon the clouds, +enabled them to make straight for the vessel across the banks. +Before they had gone half way these flames went out and the +darkness seemed denser than any he had known before. But it was +no greater than the darkness of his mind--he added. He had looked +upon the white men sitting unmoved and silent under the edge of +swords; he had looked at Daman, he had heard bitter words spoken; +he was looking now at his white friend--and the issue of events +he could not see. One can see men's faces but their fate, which +is written on their foreheads, one cannot see. He had no more to +say, and what he had spoken was true in every word. + + + +IV + +Lingard repeated it all to Mrs. Travers. Her courage, her +intelligence, the quickness of her apprehension, the colour of +her eyes and the intrepidity of her glance evoked in him an +admiring enthusiasm. She stood by his side! Every moment that +fatal illusion clung closer to his soul--like a garment of +light--like an armour of fire. + +He was unwilling to face the facts. All his life--till that +day--had been a wrestle with events in the daylight of this +world, but now he could not bring his mind to the consideration +of his position. It was Mrs. Travers who, after waiting awhile, +forced on him the pain of thought by wanting to know what bearing +Hassim's news had upon the situation. + +Lingard had not the slightest doubt Daman wanted him to know what +had been done with the prisoners. That is why Daman had welcomed +Hassim, and let him hear the decision and had allowed him to +leave the camp on the sandbank. There could be only one object in +this; to let him, Lingard, know that the prisoners had been put +out of his reach as long as he remained in his brig. Now this +brig was his strength. To make him leave his brig was like +removing his hand from his sword. + +"Do you understand what I mean, Mrs. Travers?" he asked. "They +are afraid of me because I know how to fight this brig. They fear +the brig because when I am on board her, the brig and I are one. +An armed man--don't you see? Without the brig I am disarmed, +without me she can't strike. So Daman thinks. He does not know +everything but he is not far off the truth. He says to himself +that if I man the boats to go after these whites into the lagoon +then his Illanuns will get the yacht for sure--and perhaps the +brig as well. If I stop here with my brig he holds the two white +men and can talk as big as he pleases. Belarab believes in me no +doubt, but Daman trusts no man on earth. He simply does not know +how to trust any one, because he is always plotting himself. He +came to help me and as soon as he found I was not there he began +to plot with Tengga. Now he has made a move--a clever move; a +cleverer move than he thinks. Why? I'll tell you why. Because I, +Tom Lingard, haven't a single white man aboard this brig I can +trust. Not one. I only just discovered my mate's got the notion I +am some kind of pirate. And all your yacht people think the same. +It is as though you had brought a curse on me in your yacht. +Nobody believes me. Good God! What have I come to! Even those +two--look at them--I say look at them! By all the stars they +doubt me! Me! . . ." + +He pointed at Hassim and Immada. The girl seemed frightened. +Hassim looked on calm and intelligent with inexhaustible +patience. Lingard's voice fell suddenly. + +"And by heavens they may be right. Who knows? You? Do you know? +They have waited for years. Look. They are waiting with heavy +hearts. Do you think that I don't care? Ought I to have kept it +all in--told no one--no one--not even you? Are they waiting for +what will never come now?" + +Mrs. Travers rose and moved quickly round the table. "Can we give +anything to this--this Daman or these other men? We could give +them more than they could think of asking. I--my husband. . . ." + +"Don't talk to me of your husband," he said, roughly. "You don't +know what you are doing." She confronted the sombre anger of his +eyes--"But I must," she asserted with heat.--"Must," he mused, +noticing that she was only half a head less tall than himself. +"Must! Oh, yes. Of course, you must. Must! Yes. But I don't want +to hear. Give! What can you give? You may have all the treasures +of the world for all I know. No! You can't give anything. . . ." + +"I was thinking of your difficulty when I spoke," she +interrupted. His eyes wandered downward following the line of her +shoulder.--"Of me--of me!" he repeated. + +All this was said almost in whispers. The sound of slow footsteps +was heard on deck above their heads. Lingard turned his face to +the open skylight. + +"On deck there! Any wind?" + +All was still for a moment. Somebody above answered in a +leisurely tone: + +"A steady little draught from the northward." + +Then after a pause added in a mutter: + +"Pitch dark." + +"Aye, dark enough," murmured Lingard. He must do something. Now. +At once. The world was waiting. The world full of hopes and fear. +What should he do? Instead of answering that question he traced +the ungleaming coils of her twisted hair and became fascinated by +a stray lock at her neck. What should he do? No one to leave his +brig to. The voice that had answered his question was Carter's +voice. "He is hanging about keeping his eye on me," he said to +Mrs. Travers. She shook her head and tried to smile. The man +above coughed discreetly. "No," said Lingard, "you must +understand that you have nothing to give." + +The man on deck who seemed to have lingered by the skylight was +heard saying quietly, "I am at hand if you want me, Mrs. +Travers." Hassim and Immada looked up. "You see," exclaimed +Lingard. "What did I tell you? He's keeping his eye on me! On +board my own ship. Am I dreaming? Am I in a fever? Tell him to +come down," he said after a pause. Mrs. Travers did so and +Lingard thought her voice very commanding and very sweet. +"There's nothing in the world I love so much as this brig," he +went on. " Nothing in the world. If I lost her I would have no +standing room on the earth for my feet. You don't understand +this. You can't." + +Carter came in and shut the cabin door carefully. He looked with +serenity at everyone in turn. + +"All quiet?" asked Lingard. + +"Quiet enough if you like to call it so," he answered. "But if +you only put your head outside the door you'll hear them all on +the quarter-deck snoring against each other, as if there were no +wives at home and no pirates at sea." + +"Look here," said Lingard. "I found out that I can't trust my +mate." + +"Can't you?" drawled Carter. "I am not exactly surprised. I must +say HE does not snore but I believe it is because he is too crazy +to sleep. He waylaid me on the poop just now and said something +about evil communications corrupting good manners. Seems to me +I've heard that before. Queer thing to say. He tried to make it +out somehow that if he wasn't corrupt it wasn't your fault. As if +this was any concern of mine. He's as mad as he's fat--or else he +puts it on." Carter laughed a little and leaned his shoulders +against a bulkhead. + +Lingard gazed at the woman who expected so much from him and in +the light she seemed to shed he saw himself leading a column of +armed boats to the attack of the Settlement. He could burn the +whole place to the ground and drive every soul of them into the +bush. He could! And there was a surprise, a shock, a vague horror +at the thought of the destructive power of his will. He could +give her ever so many lives. He had seen her yesterday, and it +seemed to him he had been all his life waiting for her to make a +sign. She was very still. He pondered a plan of attack. He saw +smoke and flame--and next moment he saw himself alone amongst +shapeless ruins with the whispers, with the sigh and moan of the +Shallows in his ears. He shuddered, and shaking his hand: + +"No! I cannot give you all those lives!" he cried. + +Then, before Mrs. Travers could guess the meaning of this +outburst, he declared that as the two captives must be saved he +would go alone into the lagoon. He could not think of using +force. "You understand why," he said to Mrs. Travers and she +whispered a faint "Yes." He would run the risk alone. His hope +was in Belarab being able to see where his true interest lay. "If +I can only get at him I would soon make him see," he mused aloud. +"Haven't I kept his power up for these two years past? And he +knows it, too. He feels it." Whether he would be allowed to reach +Belarab was another matter. Lingard lost himself in deep thought. +"He would not dare," he burst out. Mrs. Travers listened with +parted lips. Carter did not move a muscle of his youthful and +self-possessed face; only when Lingard, turning suddenly, came up +close to him and asked with a red flash of eyes and in a lowered +voice, "Could you fight this brig?" something like a smile made a +stir amongst the hairs of his little fair moustache. + +"'Could I?" he said. "I could try, anyhow." He paused, and added +hardly above his breath, "For the lady--of course." + +Lingard seemed staggered as though he had been hit in the chest. +"I was thinking of the brig," he said, gently. + +"Mrs. Travers would be on board," retorted Carter. + +"What! on board. Ah yes; on board. Where else?" stammered +Lingard. + +Carter looked at him in amazement. "Fight! You ask!" he said, +slowly. "You just try me." + +"I shall," ejaculated Lingard. He left the cabin calling out +"serang!" A thin cracked voice was heard immediately answering, +"Tuan!" and the door slammed to. + +"You trust him, Mrs. Travers?" asked Carter, rapidly. + +"You do not--why?" she answered. + +"I can't make him out. If he was another kind of man I would say +he was drunk," said Carter. "Why is he here at all--he, and this +brig of his? Excuse my boldness--but have you promised him +anything?" + +"I--I promised!" exclaimed Mrs. Travers in a bitter tone which +silenced Carter for a moment. + +"So much the better," he said at last. "Let him show what he can +do first and . . ." + +"Here! Take this," said Lingard, who re-entered the cabin +fumbling about his neck. Carter mechanically extended his hand. + +"What's this for?" he asked, looking at a small brass key +attached to a thin chain. + +"Powder magazine. Trap door under the table. The man who has this +key commands the brig while I am away. The serang understands. +You have her very life in your hand there." + +Carter looked at the small key lying in his half-open palm. + +"I was just telling Mrs. Travers I didn't trust you--not +altogether. . . ." + +"I know all about it," interrupted Lingard, contemptuously. "You +carry a blamed pistol in your pocket to blow my brains out--don't +you? What's that to me? I am thinking of the brig. I think I know +your sort. You will do." + +"Well, perhaps I might," mumbled Carter, modestly. + +"Don't be rash," said Lingard, anxiously. "If you've got to fight +use your head as well as your hands. If there's a breeze fight +under way. If they should try to board in a calm, trust to the +small arms to hold them off. Keep your head and--" He looked +intensely into Carter's eyes; his lips worked without a sound as +though he had been suddenly struck dumb. "Don't think about me. +What's that to you who I am? Think of the ship," he burst out. +"Don't let her go!--Don't let her go!" The passion in his voice +impressed his hearers who for a time preserved a profound +silence. + +"All right," said Carter at last. "I will stick to your brig as +though she were my own; but I would like to see clear through all +this. Look here--you are going off somewhere? Alone, you said?" + +"Yes. Alone." + +"Very well. Mind, then, that you don't come back with a crowd of +those brown friends of yours--or by the Heavens above us I won't +let you come within hail of your own ship. Am I to keep this +key?" + +"Captain Lingard," said Mrs. Travers suddenly. "Would it not be +better to tell him everything?" + +"Tell him everything?" repeated Lingard. "Everything! Yesterday +it might have been done. Only yesterday! Yesterday, did I say? +Only six hours ago--only six hours ago I had something to tell. +You heard it. And now it's gone. Tell him! There's nothing to +tell any more." He remained for a time with bowed head, while +before him Mrs. Travers, who had begun a gesture of protest, +dropped her arms suddenly. In a moment he looked up again. + +"Keep the key," he said, calmly, "and when the time comes step +forward and take charge. I am satisfied." + +"I would like to see clear through all this though," muttered +Carter again. "And for how long are you leaving us, Captain?" +Lingard made no answer. Carter waited awhile. "Come, sir," he +urged. "I ought to have some notion. What is it? Two, three +days?" Lingard started. + +"Days," he repeated. "Ah, days. What is it you want to know? Two +. . . three--what did the old fellow say--perhaps for life." This +was spoken so low that no one but Carter heard the last +words.--"Do you mean it?" he murmured. Lingard nodded.--"Wait as +long as you can--then go," he said in the same hardly audible +voice. "Go where?"--"Where you like, nearest port, any +port."--"Very good. That's something plain at any rate," +commented the young man with imperturbable good humour. + +"I go, O Hassim!" began Lingard and the Malay made a slow +inclination of the head which he did not raise again till Lingard +had ceased speaking. He betrayed neither surprise nor any other +emotion while Lingard in a few concise and sharp sentences made +him acquainted with his purpose to bring about singlehanded the +release of the prisoners. When Lingard had ended with the words: +"And you must find a way to help me in the time of trouble, O +Rajah Hassim," he looked up and said: + +"Good. You never asked me for anything before." + +He smiled at his white friend. There was something subtle in the +smile and afterward an added firmness in the repose of the lips. +Immada moved a step forward. She looked at Lingard with terror in +her black and dilated eyes. She exclaimed in a voice whose +vibration startled the hearts of all the hearers with an +indefinable sense of alarm, "He will perish, Hassim! He will +perish alone!" + +"No," said Hassim. "Thy fear is as vain to-night as it was at +sunrise. He shall not perish alone." + +Her eyelids dropped slowly. From her veiled eyes the tears fell, +vanishing in the silence. Lingard's forehead became furrowed by +folds that seemed to contain an infinity of sombre thoughts. +"Remember, O Hassim, that when I promised you to take you back to +your country you promised me to be a friend to all white men. A +friend to all whites who are of my people, forever." + +"My memory is good, O Tuan," said Hassim; "I am not yet back in +my country, but is not everyone the ruler of his own heart? +Promises made by a man of noble birth live as long as the speaker +endures." + +"Good-bye," said Lingard to Mrs. Travers. "You will be safe +here." He looked all around the cabin. " I leave you," he began +again and stopped short. Mrs. Travers' hand, resting lightly on +the edge of the table, began to tremble. "It's for you . . . Yes. +For you alone . . . and it seems it can't be. . . ." + +It seemed to him that he was saying good-bye to all the world, +that he was taking a last leave of his own self. Mrs. Travers did +not say a word, but Immada threw herself between them and cried: + +"You are a cruel woman! You are driving him away from where his +strength is. You put madness into his heart, O! Blind--without +pity--without shame! . . ." + +"Immada," said Hassim's calm voice. Nobody moved. + +"What did she say to me?" faltered Mrs. Travers and again +repeated in a voice that sounded hard, "What did she say?" + +"Forgive her," said Lingard. "Her fears are for me . . ."--"It's +about your going?" Mrs. Travers interrupted, swiftly. + +"Yes, it is--and you must forgive her." He had turned away his +eyes with something that resembled embarrassment but suddenly he +was assailed by an irresistible longing to look again at that +woman. At the moment of parting he clung to her with his glance +as a man holds with his hands a priceless and disputed +possession. The faint blush that overspread gradually Mrs. +Travers' features gave her face an air of extraordinary and +startling animation. + +"The danger you run?" she asked, eagerly. He repelled the +suggestion by a slighting gesture of the hand.--"Nothing worth +looking at twice. Don't give it a thought," he said. "I've been +in tighter places." He clapped his hands and waited till he heard +the cabin door open behind his back. "Steward, my pistols." The +mulatto in slippers, aproned to the chin, glided through the +cabin with unseeing eyes as though for him no one there had +existed. . . .--"Is it my heart that aches so?" Mrs. Travers +asked herself, contemplating Lingard's motionless figure. "How +long will this sensation of dull pain last? Will it last forever. +. . ." --"How many changes of clothes shall I put up, sir?" asked +the steward, while Lingard took the pistols from him and eased +the hammers after putting on fresh caps. --"I will take nothing +this time, steward." He received in turn from the mulatto's hands +a red silk handkerchief, a pocket book, a cigar-case. He knotted +the handkerchief loosely round his throat; it was evident he was +going through the routine of every departure for the shore; he +even opened the cigar-case to see whether it had been +filled.--"Hat, sir," murmured the half-caste. Lingard flung it on +his head.--"Take your orders from this lady, steward--till I come +back. The cabin is hers--do you hear?" He sighed ready to go and +seemed unable to lift a foot.--"I am coming with you," declared +Mrs. Travers suddenly in a tone of unalterable decision. He did +not look at her; he did not even look up; he said nothing, till +after Carter had cried: "You can't, Mrs. Travers!"--when without +budging he whispered to himself:--"Of course." Mrs. Travers had +pulled already the hood of her cloak over her head and her face +within the dark cloth had turned an intense and unearthly white, +in which the violet of her eyes appeared unfathomably mysterious. +Carter started forward.--"You don't know this man," he almost +shouted. + +"I do know him," she said, and before the reproachfully +unbelieving attitude of the other she added, speaking slowly and +with emphasis: "There is not, I verily believe, a single thought +or act of his life that I don't know."--"It's true--it's true," +muttered Lingard to himself. Carter threw up his arms with a +groan. "Stand back," said a voice that sounded to him like a +growl of thunder, and he felt a grip on his hand which seemed to +crush every bone. He jerked it away.--"Mrs. Travers! stay," he +cried. They had vanished through the open door and the sound of +their footsteps had already died away. Carter turned about +bewildered as if looking for help.--"Who is he, steward? Who in +the name of all the mad devils is he? "he asked, wildly. He was +confounded by the cold and philosophical tone of the +answer:--"'Tain't my place to trouble about that, sir--nor yours +I guess."--"Isn't it!" shouted Carter. "Why, he has carried the +lady off." The steward was looking critically at the lamp and +after a while screwed the light down.--"That's better," he +mumbled.--"Good God! What is a fellow to do?" continued Carter, +looking at Hassim and Immada who were whispering together and +gave him only an absent glance. He rushed on deck and was struck +blind instantly by the night that seemed to have been lying in +wait for him; he stumbled over something soft, kicked something +hard, flung himself on the rail. "Come back," he cried. "Come +back. Captain! Mrs. Travers!--or let me come, too." + +He listened. The breeze blew cool against his cheek. A black +bandage seemed to lie over his eyes. "Gone," he groaned, utterly +crushed. And suddenly he heard Mrs. Travers' voice remote in the +depths of the night.--"Defend the brig," it said, and these +words, pronouncing themselves in the immensity of a lightless +universe, thrilled every fibre of his body by the commanding +sadness of their tone. "Defend, defend the brig." . . . "I am +damned if I do," shouted Carter in despair. "Unless you come +back! . . . Mrs. Travers!" + +" . . . as though--I were--on board--myself," went on the rising +cadence of the voice, more distant now, a marvel of faint and +imperious clearness. + +Carter shouted no more; he tried to make out the boat for a time, +and when, giving it up, he leaped down from the rail, the heavy +obscurity of the brig's main deck was agitated like a sombre pool +by his jump, swayed, eddied, seemed to break up. Blotches of +darkness recoiled, drifted away, bare feet shuffled hastily, +confused murmurs died out. "Lascars," he muttered, "The crew is +all agog." Afterward he listened for a moment to the faintly +tumultuous snores of the white men sleeping in rows, with their +heads under the break of the poop. Somewhere about his feet, the +yacht's black dog, invisible, and chained to a deck-ringbolt, +whined, rattled the thin links, pattered with his claws in his +distress at the unfamiliar surroundings, begging for the charity +of human notice. Carter stooped impulsively, and was met by a +startling lick in the face.--"Hallo, boy!" He thumped the thick +curly sides, stroked the smooth head--"Good boy, Rover. Down. Lie +down, dog. You don't know what to make of it--do you, boy?" The +dog became still as death. "Well, neither do I," muttered Carter. +But such natures are helped by a cheerful contempt for the +intricate and endless suggestions of thought. He told himself +that he would soon see what was to come of it, and dismissed all +speculation. Had he been a little older he would have felt that +the situation was beyond his grasp; but he was too young to see +it whole and in a manner detached from himself. All these +inexplicable events filled him with deep concern--but then on the +other hand he had the key of the magazine and he could not find +it in his heart to dislike Lingard. He was positive about this at +last, and to know that much after the discomfort of an inward +conflict went a long way toward a solution. When he followed Shaw +into the cabin he could not repress a sense of enjoyment or hide +a faint and malicious smile. + +"Gone away--did you say? And carried off the lady with him?" +discoursed Shaw very loud in the doorway. "Did he? Well, I am not +surprised. What can you expect from a man like that, who leaves +his ship in an open roadstead without--I won't say orders--but +without as much as a single word to his next in command? And at +night at that! That just shows you the kind of man. Is this the +way to treat a chief mate? I apprehend he was riled at the little +al-ter-cation we had just before you came on board. I told him a +truth or two--but--never mind. There's the law and that's enough +for me. I am captain as long as he is out of the ship, and if his +address before very long is not in one of Her Majesty's jails or +other I au-tho-rize you to call me a Dutchman. You mark my +words." + +He walked in masterfully, sat down and surveyed the cabin in a +leisurely and autocratic manner; but suddenly his eyes became +stony with amazement and indignation; he pointed a fat and +trembling forefinger. + +"Niggers," he said, huskily. "In the cuddy! In the cuddy!" He +appeared bereft of speech for a time. + +Since he entered the cabin Hassim had been watching him in +thoughtful and expectant silence. "I can't have it," he continued +with genuine feeling in his voice. "Damme! I've too much respect +for myself." He rose with heavy deliberation; his eyes bulged out +in a severe and dignified stare. "Out you go!" he bellowed; +suddenly, making a step forward.--"Great Scott! What are you up +to, mister?" asked in a tone of dispassionate surprise the +steward whose head appeared in the doorway. "These are the +Captain's friends." "Show me a man's friends and . . ." began +Shaw, dogmatically, but abruptly passed into the tone of +admonition. "You take your mug out of the way, bottlewasher. They +ain't friends of mine. I ain't a vagabond. I know what's due to +myself. Quit!" he hissed, fiercely. Hassim, with an alert +movement, grasped the handle of his kris. Shaw puffed out his +cheeks and frowned.--" Look out! He will stick you like a prize +pig," murmured Carter without moving a muscle. Shaw looked round +helplessly.--"And you would enjoy the fun-- wouldn't you?" he +said with slow bitterness. Carter's distant non-committal smile +quite overwhelmed him by its horrid frigidity. Extreme +despondency replaced the proper feeling of racial pride in the +primitive soul of the mate. "My God! What luck! What have I done +to fall amongst that lot?" he groaned, sat down, and took his big +grey head in his hands. Carter drew aside to make room for +Immada, who, in obedience to a whisper from her brother, sought +to leave the cabin. She passed out after an instant of +hesitation, during which she looked up at Carter once. Her +brother, motionless in a defensive attitude, protected her +retreat. She disappeared; Hassim's grip on his weapon relaxed; he +looked in turn at every object in the cabin as if to fix its +position in his mind forever, and following his sister, walked +out with noiseless footfalls. + +They entered the same darkness which had received, enveloped, and +hidden the troubled souls of Lingard and Edith, but to these two +the light from which they had felt themselves driven away was now +like the light of forbidden hopes; it had the awful and tranquil +brightness that a light burning on the shore has for an exhausted +swimmer about to give himself up to the fateful sea. They looked +back; it had disappeared; Carter had shut the cabin door behind +them to have it out with Shaw. He wanted to arrive at some kind +of working compromise with the nominal commander, but the mate +was so demoralized by the novelty of the assaults made upon his +respectability that the young defender of the brig could get +nothing from him except lamentations mingled with mild +blasphemies. The brig slept, and along her quiet deck the voices +raised in her cabin--Shaw's appeals and reproaches directed +vociferously to heaven, together with Carter's inflexible drawl +mingled into one deadened, modulated, and continuous murmur. The +lockouts in the waist, motionless and peering into obscurity, one +ear turned to the sea, were aware of that strange resonance like +the ghost of a quarrel that seemed to hover at their backs. +Wasub, after seeing Hassim and Immada into their canoe, prowled +to and fro the whole length of the vessel vigilantly. There was +not a star in the sky and no gleam on the water; there was no +horizon, no outline, no shape for the eye to rest upon, nothing +for the hand to grasp. An obscurity that seemed without limit in +space and time had submerged the universe like a destroying +flood. + +A lull of the breeze kept for a time the small boat in the +neighbourhood of the brig. The hoisted sail, invisible, fluttered +faintly, mysteriously, and the boat rising and falling bodily to +the passage of each invisible undulation of the waters seemed to +repose upon a living breast. Lingard, his hand on the tiller, sat +up erect, expectant and silent. Mrs. Travers had drawn her cloak +close around her body. Their glances plunged infinitely deep into +a lightless void, and yet they were still so near the brig that +the piteous whine of the dog, mingled with the angry rattling of +the chain, reached their ears faintly, evoking obscure images of +distress and fury. A sharp bark ending in a plaintive howl that +seemed raised by the passage of phantoms invisible to men, rent +the black stillness, as though the instinct of the brute inspired +by the soul of night had voiced in a lamentable plaint the fear +of the future, the anguish of lurking death, the terror of +shadows. Not far from the brig's boat Hassim and Immada in their +canoe, letting their paddles trail in the water, sat in a silent +and invincible torpor as if the fitful puffs of wind had carried +to their hearts the breath of a subtle poison that, very soon, +would make them die.--"Have you seen the white woman's eyes?" +cried the girl. She struck her palms together loudly and remained +with her arms extended, with her hands clasped. "O Hassim! Have +you seen her eyes shining under her eyebrows like rays of light +darting under the arched boughs in a forest? They pierced me. I +shuddered at the sound of her voice! I saw her walk behind +him--and it seems to me that she does not live on earth--that all +this is witchcraft." + +She lamented in the night. Hassim kept silent. He had no +illusions and in any other man but Lingard he would have thought +the proceeding no better than suicidal folly. For him Travers and +d'Alcacer were two powerful Rajahs--probably relatives of the +Ruler of the land of the English whom he knew to be a woman; but +why they should come and interfere with the recovery of his own +kingdom was an obscure problem. He was concerned for Lingard's +safety. That the risk was incurred mostly for his sake--so that +the prospects of the great enterprise should not be ruined by a +quarrel over the lives of these whites--did not strike him so +much as may be imagined. There was that in him which made such an +action on Lingard's part appear all but unavoidable. Was he not +Rajah Hassim and was not the other a man of strong heart, of +strong arm, of proud courage, a man great enough to protect +highborn princes--a friend? Immada's words called out a smile +which, like the words, was lost in the darkness. "Forget your +weariness," he said, gently, "lest, O Sister, we should arrive +too late." The coming day would throw its light on some decisive +event. Hassim thought of his own men who guarded the Emma and he +wished to be where they could hear his voice. He regretted Jaffir +was not there. Hassim was saddened by the absence from his side +of that man who once had carried what he thought would be his +last message to his friend. It had not been the last. He had +lived to cherish new hopes and to face new troubles and, +perchance, to frame another message yet, while death knocked with +the hands of armed enemies at the gate. The breeze steadied; the +succeeding swells swung the canoe smoothly up the unbroken ridges +of water travelling apace along the land. They progressed slowly; +but Immada's heart was more weary than her arms, and Hassim, +dipping the blade of his paddle without a splash, peered right +and left, trying to make out the shadowy forms of islets. A long +way ahead of the canoe and holding the same course, the brig's +dinghy ran with broad lug extended, making for that narrow and +winding passage between the coast and the southern shoals, which +led to the mouth of the creek connecting the lagoon with the sea. + +Thus on that starless night the Shallows were peopled by uneasy +souls. The thick veil of clouds stretched over them, cut them off +from the rest of the universe. At times Mrs. Travers had in the +darkness the impression of dizzy speed, and again it seemed to +her that the boat was standing still, that everything in the +world was standing still and only her fancy roamed free from all +trammels. Lingard, perfectly motionless by her side, steered, +shaping his course by the feel of the wind. Presently he +perceived ahead a ghostly flicker of faint, livid light which the +earth seemed to throw up against the uniform blackness of the +sky. The dinghy was approaching the expanse of the Shallows. The +confused clamour of broken water deepened its note. + +"How long are we going to sail like this?" asked Mrs. Travers, +gently. She did not recognize the voice that pronounced the word +"Always" in answer to her question. It had the impersonal ring of +a voice without a master. Her heart beat fast. + +"Captain Lingard!" she cried. + +"Yes. What?" he said, nervously, as if startled out of a dream. + +"I asked you how long we were going to sail like this," she +repeated, distinctly. + +"If the breeze holds we shall be in the lagoon soon after +daybreak. That will be the right time, too. I shall leave you on +board the hulk with Jorgenson." + +"And you? What will you do?" she asked. She had to wait for a +while. + +"I will do what I can," she heard him say at last. There was +another pause. "All I can," he added. + +The breeze dropped, the sail fluttered. + +"I have perfect confidence in you," she said. "But are you +certain of success?" + +"No." + +The futility of her question came home to Mrs. Travers. In a few +hours of life she had been torn away from all her certitudes, +flung into a world of improbabilities. This thought instead of +augmenting her distress seemed to soothe her. What she +experienced was not doubt and it was not fear. It was something +else. It might have been only a great fatigue. + +She heard a dull detonation as if in the depth of the sea. It was +hardly more than a shock and a vibration. A roller had broken +amongst the shoals; the livid clearness Lingard had seen ahead +flashed and flickered in expanded white sheets much nearer to the +boat now. And all this--the wan burst of light, the faint shock +as of something remote and immense falling into ruins, was taking +place outside the limits of her life which remained encircled by +an impenetrable darkness and by an impenetrable silence. Puffs of +wind blew about her head and expired; the sail collapsed, +shivered audibly, stood full and still in turn; and again the +sensation of vertiginous speed and of absolute immobility +succeeding each other with increasing swiftness merged at last +into a bizarre state of headlong motion and profound peace. The +darkness enfolded her like the enervating caress of a sombre +universe. It was gentle and destructive. Its languor seduced her +soul into surrender. Nothing existed and even all her memories +vanished into space. She was content that nothing should exist. + +Lingard, aware all the time of their contact in the narrow stern +sheets of the boat, was startled by the pressure of the woman's +head drooping on his shoulder. He stiffened himself still more as +though he had tried on the approach of a danger to conceal his +life in the breathless rigidity of his body. The boat soared +and descended slowly; a region of foam and reefs stretched across +her course hissing like a gigantic cauldron; a strong gust of +wind drove her straight at it for a moment then passed on and +abandoned her to the regular balancing of the swell. The struggle +of the rocks forever overwhelmed and emerging, with the sea +forever victorious and repulsed, fascinated the man. He watched +it as he would have watched something going on within himself +while Mrs. Travers slept sustained by his arm, pressed to his +side, abandoned to his support. The shoals guarding the Shore of +Refuge had given him his first glimpse of success--the solid +support he needed for his action. The Shallows were the shelter +of his dreams; their voice had the power to soothe and exalt his +thoughts with the promise of freedom for his hopes. Never had +there been such a generous friendship. . . . A mass of white foam +whirling about a centre of intense blackness spun silently past +the side of the boat. . . . That woman he held like a captive on +his arm had also been given to him by the Shallows. + +Suddenly his eyes caught on a distant sandbank the red gleam of +Daman's camp fire instantly eclipsed like the wink of a +signalling lantern along the level of the waters. It brought to +his mind the existence of the two men--those other captives. If +the war canoe transporting them into the lagoon had left the +sands shortly after Hassim's retreat from Daman's camp, Travers +and d'Alcacer were by this time far away up the creek. Every +thought of action had become odious to Lingard since all he could +do in the world now was to hasten the moment of his separation +from that woman to whom he had confessed the whole secret of his +life. + +And she slept. She could sleep! He looked down at her as he would +have looked at the slumbering ignorance of a child, but the life +within him had the fierce beat of supreme moments. Near by, the +eddies sighed along the reefs, the water soughed amongst the +stones, clung round the rocks with tragic murmurs that resembled +promises, good-byes, or prayers. From the unfathomable distances +of the night came the booming of the swell assaulting the seaward +face of the Shallows. He felt the woman's nearness with such +intensity that he heard nothing. . . . Then suddenly he thought +of death. + +"Wake up!" he shouted in her ear, swinging round in his seat. +Mrs. Travers gasped; a splash of water flicked her over the eyes +and she felt the separate drops run down her cheeks, she tasted +them on her lips, tepid and bitter like tears. A swishing +undulation tossed the boat on high followed by another and still +another; and then the boat with the breeze abeam glided through +still water, laying over at a steady angle. + +"Clear of the reef now," remarked Lingard in a tone of relief. + +"Were we in any danger?" asked Mrs. Travers in a whisper. + +"Well, the breeze dropped and we drifted in very close to the +rocks," he answered. "I had to rouse you. It wouldn't have done +for you to wake up suddenly struggling in the water." + +So she had slept! It seemed to her incredible that she should +have closed her eyes in this small boat, with the knowledge of +their desperate errand, on so disturbed a sea. The man by her +side leaned forward, extended his arm, and the boat going off +before the wind went on faster on an even keel. A motionless +black bank resting on the sea stretched infinitely right in their +way in ominous stillness. She called Lingard's attention to it. +"Look at this awful cloud." + +"This cloud is the coast and in a moment we shall be entering the +creek," he said, quietly. Mrs. Travers stared at it. Was it +land--land! It seemed to her even less palpable than a cloud, a +mere sinister immobility above the unrest of the sea, nursing in +its depth the unrest of men who, to her mind, were no more real +than fantastic shadows. + + + +V + +What struck Mrs. Travers most, directly she set eyes on him, was +the other-world aspect of Jorgenson. He had been buried out of +sight so long that his tall, gaunt body, his unhurried, +mechanical movements, his set face and his eyes with an empty +gaze suggested an invincible indifference to all the possible +surprises of the earth. That appearance of a resuscitated man who +seemed to be commanded by a conjuring spell strolled along the +decks of what was even to Mrs. Travers' eyes the mere corpse of a +ship and turned on her a pair of deep-sunk, expressionless eyes +with an almost unearthly detachment. Mrs. Travers had never been +looked at before with that strange and pregnant abstraction. Yet +she didn't dislike Jorgenson. In the early morning light, white +from head to foot in a perfectly clean suit of clothes which +seemed hardly to contain any limbs, freshly shaven (Jorgenson's +sunken cheeks with their withered colouring always had a sort of +gloss as though he had the habit of shaving every two hours or +so), he looked as immaculate as though he had been indeed a pure +spirit superior to the soiling contacts of the material earth. He +was disturbing but he was not repulsive. He gave no sign of +greeting. + +Lingard addressed him at once. + +"You have had a regular staircase built up the side of the hulk, +Jorgenson," he said. "It was very convenient for us to come +aboard now, but in case of an attack don't you think . . ." + +"I did think." There was nothing so dispassionate in the world as +the voice of Captain H. C. Jorgenson, ex Barque Wild Rose, since +he had recrossed the Waters of Oblivion to step back into the +life of men. "I did think, but since I don't want to make +trouble. . . ." + +"Oh, you don't want to make trouble," interrupted Lingard. + +"No. Don't believe in it. Do you, King Tom?" + +"I may have to make trouble." + +"So you came up here in this small dinghy of yours like this to +start making trouble, did you?" + +"What's the matter with you? Don't you know me yet, Jorgenson?" + +"I thought I knew you. How could I tell that a man like you would +come along for a fight bringing a woman with him?" + +"This lady is Mrs. Travers," said Lingard. "The wife of one of +the luckless gentlemen Daman got hold of last evening. . . . This +is Jorgenson, the friend of whom I have been telling you, Mrs. +Travers." + +Mrs. Travers smiled faintly. Her eyes roamed far and near and the +strangeness of her surroundings, the overpowering curiosity, the +conflict of interest and doubt gave her the aspect of one still +new to life, presenting an innocent and naive attitude before the +surprises of experience. She looked very guileless and youthful +between those two men. Lingard gazed at her with that unconscious +tenderness mingled with wonder, which some men manifest toward +girlhood. There was nothing of a conqueror of kingdoms in his +bearing. Jorgenson preserved his amazing abstraction which seemed +neither to hear nor see anything. But, evidently, he kept a +mysterious grip on events in the world of living men because he +asked very naturally: + +"How did she get away?" + +"The lady wasn't on the sandbank," explained Lingard, curtly. + +"What sandbank?" muttered Jorgenson, perfunctorily. . . . "Is the +yacht looted, Tom?" + +"Nothing of the kind," said Lingard. + +"Ah, many dead?" inquired Jorgenson. + +"I tell you there was nothing of the kind," said Lingard, +impatiently. + +"What? No fight!" inquired Jorgenson again without the slightest +sign of animation. + +"No." + +"And you a fighting man." + +"Listen to me, Jorgenson. Things turned out so that before the +time came for a fight it was already too late." He turned to Mrs. +Travers still looking about with anxious eyes and a faint smile +on her lips. "While I was talking to you that evening from the +boat it was already too late. No. There was never any time for +it. I have told you all about myself, Mrs. Travers, and you know +that I speak the truth when I say too late. If you had only been +alone in that yacht going about the seas!" + +"Yes," she struck in, "but I was not alone." + +Lingard dropped his chin on his breast. Already a foretaste of +noonday heat staled the sparkling freshness of the morning. The +smile had vanished from Edith Travers' lips and her eyes rested +on Lingard's bowed head with an expression no longer curious but +which might have appeared enigmatic to Jorgenson if he had looked +at her. But Jorgenson looked at nothing. He asked from the +remoteness of his dead past, "What have you left outside, Tom? +What is there now?" + +"There's the yacht on the shoals, my brig at anchor, and about a +hundred of the worst kind of Illanun vagabonds under three chiefs +and with two war-praus moored to the edge of the bank. Maybe +Daman is with them, too, out there." + +"No," said Jorgenson, positively. + +"He has come in," cried Lingard. "He brought his prisoners in +himself then." + +"Landed by torchlight," uttered precisely the shade of Captain +Jorgenson, late of the Barque Wild Rose. He swung his arm +pointing across the lagoon and Mrs. Travers turned about in that +direction. + +All the scene was but a great light and a great solitude. Her +gaze travelled over the lustrous, dark sheet of empty water to a +shore bordered by a white beach empty, too, and showing no sign +of human life. The human habitations were lost in the shade of +the fruit trees, masked by the cultivated patches of Indian corn +and the banana plantations. Near the shore the rigid lines of two +stockaded forts could be distinguished flanking the beach, and +between them with a great open space before it, the brown roof +slope of an enormous long building that seemed suspended in the +air had a great square flag fluttering above it. Something like a +small white flame in the sky was the carved white coral finial on +the gable of the mosque which had caught full the rays of the +sun. A multitude of gay streamers, white and red, flew over the +half-concealed roofs, over the brilliant fields and amongst the +sombre palm groves. But it might have been a deserted settlement +decorated and abandoned by its departed population. Lingard +pointed to the stockade on the right. + +"That's where your husband is," he said to Mrs. Travers. + +"Who is the other?" uttered Jorgenson's voice at their backs. He +also was turned that way with his strange sightless gaze fixed +beyond them into the void. + +"A Spanish gentleman I believe you said, Mrs Travers," observed +Lingard. + +"It is extremely difficult to believe that there is anybody +there," murmured Mrs. Travers. + +"Did you see them both, Jorgenson?" asked Lingard. + +"Made out nobody. Too far. Too dark." + +As a matter of fact Jorgenson had seen nothing, about an hour +before daybreak, but the distant glare of torches while the loud +shouts of an excited multitude had reached him across the water +only like a faint and tempestuous murmur. Presently the lights +went away processionally through the groves of trees into the +armed stockades. The distant glare vanished in the fading +darkness and the murmurs of the invisible crowd ceased suddenly +as if carried off by the retreating shadow of the night. Daylight +followed swiftly, disclosing to the sleepless Jorgenson the +solitude of the shore and the ghostly outlines of the familiar +forms of grouped trees and scattered human habitations. He had +watched the varied colours come out in the dawn, the wide +cultivated Settlement of many shades of green, framed far away by +the fine black lines of the forest-edge that was its limit and +its protection. + +Mrs. Travers stood against the rail as motionless as a statue. +Her face had lost all its mobility and her cheeks were dead white +as if all the blood in her body had flowed back into her heart +and had remained there. Her very lips had lost their colour. +Lingard caught hold of her arm roughly. + +"Don't, Mrs. Travers. Why are you terrifying yourself like this? +If you don't believe what I say listen to me asking Jorgenson. . +. ." + +"Yes, ask me," mumbled Jorgenson in his white moustache. + +"Speak straight, Jorgenson. What do you think? Are the gentlemen +alive?" + +"Certainly," said Jorgenson in a sort of disappointed tone as +though he had expected a much more difficult question. + +"Is their life in immediate danger?" + +"Of course not," said Jorgenson. + +Lingard turned away from the oracle. "You have heard him, Mrs. +Travers. You may believe every word he says. There isn't a +thought or a purpose in that Settlement," he continued, pointing +at the dumb solitude of the lagoon, "that this man doesn't know +as if they were his own." + +"I know. Ask me," muttered Jorgenson, mechanically. + +Mrs. Travers said nothing but made a slight movement and her +whole rigid figure swayed dangerously. Lingard put his arm firmly +round her waist and she did not seem aware of it till after she +had turned her head and found Lingard's face very near her own. +But his eyes full of concern looked so close into hers that she +was obliged to shut them like a woman about to faint. + +The effect this produced upon Lingard was such that she felt the +tightening of his arm and as she opened her eyes again some of +the colour returned to her face. She met the deepened expression +of his solicitude with a look so steady, with a gaze that in +spite of herself was so profoundly vivid that its clearness +seemed to Lingard to throw all his past life into shade.--"I +don't feel faint. It isn't that at all," she declared in a +perfectly calm voice. It seemed to Lingard as cold as ice. + +"Very well," he agreed with a resigned smile. "But you just catch +hold of that rail, please, before I let you go." She, too, forced +a smile on her lips. + +"What incredulity," she remarked, and for a time made not the +slightest movement. At last, as if making a concession, she +rested the tips of her fingers on the rail. Lingard gradually +removed his arm. "And pray don't look upon me as a conventional +'weak woman' person, the delicate lady of your own conception," +she said, facing Lingard, with her arm extended to the rail. +"Make that effort please against your own conception of what a +woman like me should be. I am perhaps as strong as you are, +Captain Lingard. I mean it literally. In my body."--"Don't you +think I have seen that long ago?" she heard his deep voice +protesting.--"And as to my courage," Mrs. Travers continued, her +expression charmingly undecided between frowns and smiles; +"didn't I tell you only a few hours ago, only last evening, that +I was not capable of thinking myself into a fright; you remember, +when you were begging me to try something of the kind. Don't +imagine that I would have been ashamed to try. But I couldn't +have done it. No. Not even for the sake of somebody else's +kingdom. Do you understand me?" + +"God knows," said the attentive Lingard after a time, with an +unexpected sigh. "You people seem to be made of another stuff." + +"What has put that absurd notion into your head?" + +"I didn't mean better or worse. And I wouldn't say it isn't good +stuff either. What I meant to say is that it's different. One +feels it. And here we are." + +"Yes, here we are," repeated Mrs. Travers. "And as to this moment +of emotion, what provoked it is not a concern for anybody or +anything outside myself. I felt no terror. I cannot even fix my +fears upon any distinct image. You think I am shamelessly +heartless in telling you this." + +Lingard made no sign. It didn't occur to him to make a sign. He +simply hung on Mrs. Travers' words as it were only for the sake +of the sound.--"I am simply frank with you," she continued. "What +do I know of savagery, violence, murder? I have never seen a dead +body in my life. The light, the silence, the mysterious emptiness +of this place have suddenly affected my imagination, I suppose. +What is the meaning of this wonderful peace in which we +stand--you and I alone?" + +Lingard shook his head. He saw the narrow gleam of the woman's +teeth between the parted lips of her smile, as if all the ardour +of her conviction had been dissolved at the end of her speech +into wistful recognition of their partnership before things +outside their knowledge. And he was warmed by something a little +helpless in that smile. Within three feet of them the shade of +Jorgenson, very gaunt and neat, stared into space. + +"Yes. You are strong," said Lingard. "But a whole long night +sitting in a small boat! I wonder you are not too stiff to +stand." + +"I am not stiff in the least," she interrupted, still smiling. "I +am really a very strong woman," she added, earnestly. "Whatever +happens you may reckon on that fact." + +Lingard gave her an admiring glance. But the shade of Jorgenson, +perhaps catching in its remoteness the sound of the word woman, +was suddenly moved to begin scolding with all the liberty of a +ghost, in a flow of passionless indignation. + +"Woman! That's what I say. That's just about the last touch--that +you, Tom Lingard, red-eyed Tom, King Tom, and all those fine +names, that you should leave your weapons twenty miles behind +you, your men, your guns, your brig that is your strength, and +come along here with your mouth full of fight, bare-handed and +with a woman in tow.--Well--well!" + +"Don't forget, Jorgenson, that the lady hears you," remonstrated +Lingard in a vexed tone. . . . "He doesn't mean to be rude," he +remarked to Mrs. Travers quite loud, as if indeed Jorgenson were +but an immaterial and feelingless illusion. "He has forgotten." + +"The woman is not in the least offended. I ask for nothing better +than to be taken on that footing." + +"Forgot nothing!" mumbled Jorgenson with a sort of ghostly +assertiveness and as it were for his own satisfaction. "What's +the world coming to?" + +"It was I who insisted on coming with Captain Lingard," said Mrs. +Travers, treating Jorgenson to a fascinating sweetness of tone. + +"That's what I say! What is the world coming to? Hasn't King Tom +a mind of his own? What has come over him? He's mad! Leaving his +brig with a hundred and twenty born and bred pirates of the worst +kind in two praus on the other side of a sandbank. Did you insist +on that, too? Has he put himself in the hands of a strange +woman?" + +Jorgenson seemed to be asking those questions of himself. Mrs. +Travers observed the empty stare, the self-communing voice, his +unearthly lack of animation. Somehow it made it very easy to +speak the whole truth to him. + +"No," she said, "it is I who am altogether in his hands." + +Nobody would have guessed that Jorgenson had heard a single word +of that emphatic declaration if he had not addressed himself to +Lingard with the question neither more nor less abstracted than +all his other speeches. + +"Why then did you bring her along?" + +"You don't understand. It was only right and proper. One of the +gentlemen is the lady's husband." + +"Oh, yes," muttered Jorgenson. "Who's the other?" + +"You have been told. A friend." + +"Poor Mr. d'Alcacer," said Mrs. Travers. "What bad luck for him +to have accepted our invitation. But he is really a mere +acquaintance." + +"I hardly noticed him," observed Lingard, gloomily. "He was +talking to you over the back of your chair when I came aboard the +yacht as if he had been a very good friend." + +"We always understood each other very well," said Mrs. Travers, +picking up from the rail the long glass that was lying there. "I +always liked him, the frankness of his mind, and his great +loyalty." + +"What did he do?" asked Lingard. + +"He loved," said Mrs. Travers, lightly. "But that's an old +story." She raised the glass to her eyes, one arm extended fully +to sustain the long tube, and Lingard forgot d'Alcacer in +admiring the firmness of her pose and the absolute steadiness of +the heavy glass. She was as firm as a rock after all those +emotions and all that fatigue. + +Mrs. Travers directed the glass instinctively toward the entrance +of the lagoon. The smooth water there shone like a piece of +silver in the dark frame of the forest. A black speck swept +across the field of her vision. It was some time before she could +find it again and then she saw, apparently so near as to be +within reach of the voice, a small canoe with two people in it. +She saw the wet paddles rising and dipping with a flash in the +sunlight. She made out plainly the face of Immada, who seemed to +be looking straight into the big end of the telescope. The chief +and his sister, after resting under the bank for a couple of +hours in the middle of the night, had entered the lagoon and were +making straight for the hulk. They were already near enough to be +perfectly distinguishable to the naked eye if there had been +anybody on board to glance that way. But nobody was even thinking +of them. They might not have existed except perhaps in the memory +of old Jorgenson. But that was mostly busy with all the +mysterious secrets of his late tomb. + +Mrs. Travers lowered the glass suddenly. Lingard came out from a +sort of trance and said: + +"Mr. d'Alcacer. Loved! Why shouldn't he?" + +Mrs. Travers looked frankly into Lingard's gloomy eyes. "It isn't +that alone, of course," she said. "First of all he knew how to +love and then. . . . You don't know how artificial and barren +certain kinds of life can be. But Mr. d'Alcacer's life was not +that. His devotion was worth having." + +"You seem to know a lot about him,'" said Lingard, enviously. +"Why do you smile?" She continued to smile at him for a little +while. The long brass tube over her shoulder shone like gold +against the pale fairness of her bare head.--"At a thought," she +answered, preserving the low tone of the conversation into which +they had fallen as if their words could have disturbed the +self-absorption of Captain H. C. Jorgenson. "At the thought that +for all my long acquaintance with Mr. d'Alcacer I don't know half +as much about him as I know about you." + +"Ah, that's impossible," contradicted Lingard. "Spaniard or no +Spaniard, he is one of your kind." + +"Tarred with the same brush," murmured Mrs. Travers, with only a +half-amused irony. But Lingard continued: + +"He was trying to make it up between me and your husband, wasn't +he? I was too angry to pay much attention, but I liked him well +enough. What pleased me most was the way in which he gave it up. +That was done like a gentleman. Do you understand what I mean, +Mrs. Travers?" + +"I quite understand." + +"Yes, you would," he commented, simply. "But just then I was too +angry to talk to anybody. And so I cleared out on board my own +ship and stayed there, not knowing what to do and wishing you all +at the bottom of the sea. Don't mistake me, Mrs. Travers; it's +you, the people aft, that I wished at the bottom of the sea. I +had nothing against the poor devils on board, They would have +trusted me quick enough. So I fumed there till--till. . . . " + +"Till nine o'clock or a little after," suggested Mrs. Travers, +impenetrably. + +"No. Till I remembered you," said Lingard with the utmost +innocence. + +"Do you mean to say that you forgot my existence so completely +till then? You had spoken to me on board the yacht, you know." + +"Did I? I thought I did. What did I say?" + +"You told me not to touch a dusky princess," answered Mrs. +Travers with a short laugh. Then with a visible change of mood as +if she had suddenly out of a light heart been recalled to the +sense of the true situation: "But indeed I meant no harm to this +figure of your dream. And, look over there. She is pursuing you." +Lingard glanced toward the north shore and suppressed an +exclamation of remorse. For the second time he discovered that he +had forgotten the existence of Hassim and Immada. The canoe was +now near enough for its occupants to distinguish plainly the +heads of three people above the low bulwark of the Emma. Immada +let her paddle trail suddenly in the water, with the exclamation, +"I see the white woman there." Her brother looked over his +shoulder and the canoe floated, arrested as if by the sudden +power of a spell.--"They are no dream to me," muttered Lingard, +sturdily. Mrs. Travers turned abruptly away to look at the +further shore. It was still and empty to the naked eye and seemed +to quiver in the sunshine like an immense painted curtain lowered +upon the unknown. + +"Here's Rajah Hassim coming, Jorgenson. I had an idea he would +perhaps stay outside." Mrs. Travers heard Lingard's voice at her +back and the answering grunt of Jorgenson. She raised +deliberately the long glass to her eye, pointing it at the shore. + +She distinguished plainly now the colours in the flutter of the +streamers above the brown roofs of the large Settlement, the stir +of palm groves, the black shadows inland and the dazzling white +beach of coral sand all ablaze in its formidable mystery. She +swept the whole range of the view and was going to lower the +glass when from behind the massive angle of the stockade there +stepped out into the brilliant immobility of the landscape a man +in a long white gown and with an enormous black turban +surmounting a dark face. Slow and grave he paced the beach +ominously in the sunshine, an enigmatical figure in an Oriental +tale with something weird and menacing in its sudden emergence +and lonely progress. + +With an involuntary gasp Mrs. Travers lowered the glass. All at +once behind her back she heard a low musical voice beginning to +pour out incomprehensible words in a tone of passionate pleading. +Hassim and Immada had come on board and had approached Lingard. +Yes! It was intolerable to feel that this flow of soft speech +which had no meaning for her could make its way straight into +that man's heart. + + + +PART V. THE POINT OF HONOUR AND THE POINT OF PASSION + +I + +"May I come in?" + +"Yes," said a voice within. "The door is open." It had a wooden +latch. Mr. Travers lifted it while the voice of his wife +continued as he entered. "Did you imagine I had locked myself in? +Did you ever know me lock myself in?" + +Mr. Travers closed the door behind him. "No, it has never come to +that," he said in a tone that was not conciliatory. In that place +which was a room in a wooden hut and had a square opening without +glass but with a half-closed shutter he could not distinguish his +wife very well at once. She was sitting in an armchair and what +he could see best was her fair hair all loose over the back of +the chair. There was a moment of silence. The measured footsteps +of two men pacing athwart the quarter-deck of the dead ship Emma +commanded by the derelict shade of Jorgenson could be heard +outside. + +Jorgenson, on taking up his dead command, had a house of thin +boards built on the after deck for his own accommodation and that +of Lingard during his flying visits to the Shore of Refuge. A +narrow passage divided it in two and Lingard's side was furnished +with a camp bedstead, a rough desk, and a rattan armchair. On one +of his visits Lingard had brought with him a black seaman's chest +and left it there. Apart from these objects and a small +looking-glass worth about half a crown and nailed to the wall +there was nothing else in there whatever. What was on Jorgenson's +side of the deckhouse no one had seen, but from external evidence +one could infer the existence of a set of razors. + +The erection of that primitive deckhouse was a matter of +propriety rather than of necessity. It was proper that the white +men should have a place to themselves on board, but Lingard was +perfectly accurate when he told Mrs. Travers that he had never +slept there once. His practice was to sleep on deck. As to +Jorgenson, if he did sleep at all he slept very little. It might +have been said that he haunted rather than commanded the Emma. +His white form flitted here and there in the night or stood for +hours, silent, contemplating the sombre glimmer of the lagoon. +Mr. Travers' eyes accustomed gradually to the dusk of the place +could now distinguish more of his wife's person than the great +mass of honey-coloured hair. He saw her face, the dark eyebrows +and her eyes that seemed profoundly black in the half light. He +said: + +"You couldn't have done so here. There is neither lock nor bolt." + +"Isn't there? I didn't notice. I would know how to protect myself +without locks and bolts." + +"I am glad to hear it," said Mr. Travers in a sullen tone and +fell silent again surveying the woman in the chair. "Indulging +your taste for fancy dress," he went on with faint irony. + +Mrs. Travers clasped her hands behind her head. The wide sleeves +slipping back bared her arms to her shoulders. She was wearing a +Malay thin cotton jacket, cut low in the neck without a collar +and fastened with wrought silver clasps from the throat downward. +She had replaced her yachting skirt by a blue check sarong +embroidered with threads of gold. Mr. Travers' eyes travelling +slowly down attached themselves to the gleaming instep of an +agitated foot from which hung a light leather sandal. + +"I had no clothes with me but what I stood in," said Mrs. +Travers. "I found my yachting costume too heavy. It was +intolerable. I was soaked in dew when I arrived. So when these +things were produced for my inspection. . . ." + +"By enchantment," muttered Mr. Travers in a tone too heavy for +sarcasm. + +"No. Out of that chest. There are very fine stuffs there." + +"No doubt," said Mr. Travers. "The man wouldn't be above +plundering the natives. . . ." He sat down heavily on the chest. +"A most appropriate costume for this farce," he continued. "But +do you mean to wear it in open daylight about the decks?" + +"Indeed I do," said Mrs. Travers. "D'Alcacer has seen me already +and he didn't seem shocked." + +"You should," said Mr. Travers, "try to get yourself presented +with some bangles for your ankles so that you may jingle as you +walk." + +"Bangles are not necessities," said Mrs. Travers in a weary tone +and with the fixed upward look of a person unwilling to +relinquish her dream. Mr. Travers dropped the subject to ask: + +"And how long is this farce going to last?" + +Mrs. Travers unclasped her hands, lowered her glance, and changed +her whole pose in a moment. + +"What do you mean by farce? What farce?" + +"The one which is being played at my expense." + +"You believe that?" + +"Not only believe. I feel deeply that it is so. At my expense. +It's a most sinister thing," Mr. Travers pursued, still with +downcast eyes and in an unforgiving tone. "I must tell you that +when I saw you in that courtyard in a crowd of natives and +leaning on that man's arm, it gave me quite a shock." + +"Did I, too, look sinister?" said Mrs. Travers, turning her head +slightly toward her husband. "And yet I assure you that I was +glad, profoundly glad, to see you safe from danger for a time at +least. To gain time is everything. . . ." + +"I ask myself," Mr. Travers meditated aloud, "was I ever in +danger? Am I safe now? I don't know. I can't tell. No! All this +seems an abominable farce." + +There was that in his tone which made his wife continue to look +at him with awakened interest. It was obvious that he suffered +from a distress which was not the effect of fear; and Mrs. +Travers' face expressed real concern till he added in a freezing +manner: "The question, however, is as to your discretion." + +She leaned back again in the chair and let her hands rest quietly +in her lap. "Would you have preferred me to remain outside, in +the yacht, in the near neighbourhood of these wild men who +captured you? Or do you think that they, too, were got up to +carry on a farce?" + +"Most decidedly." Mr. Travers raised his head, though of course +not his voice. "You ought to have remained in the yacht amongst +white men, your servants, the sailing-master, the crew whose duty +it was to. . . . Who would have been ready to die for you." + +"I wonder why they should have--and why I should have asked them +for that sacrifice. However, I have no doubt they would have +died. Or would you have preferred me to take up my quarters on +board that man's brig? We were all fairly safe there. The real +reason why I insisted on coming in here was to be nearer to +you--to see for myself what could be or was being done. . . . But +really if you want me to explain my motives then I may just as +well say nothing. I couldn't remain outside for days without +news, in a state of horrible doubt. We couldn't even tell whether +you and d'Alcacer were still alive till we arrived here. You +might have been actually murdered on the sandbank, after Rajah +Hassim and that girl had gone away; or killed while going up the +river. And I wanted to know at once, as soon as possible. It was +a matter of impulse. I went off in what I stood in without +delaying a moment." + +"Yes," said Mr. Travers. "And without even thinking of having a +few things put up for me in a bag. No doubt you were in a state +of excitement. Unless you took such a tragic view that it seemed +to you hardly worth while to bother about my clothes." + +"It was absolutely the impulse of the moment. I could have done +nothing else. Won't you give me credit for it?" + +Mr. Travers raised his eyes again to his wife's face. He saw it +calm, her attitude reposeful. Till then his tone had been +resentful, dull, without sarcasm. But now he became slightly +pompous. + +"No. As a matter of fact, as a matter of experience, I can't +credit you with the possession of feelings appropriate to your +origin, social position, and the ideas of the class to which you +belong. It was the heaviest disappointment of my life. I had made +up my mind not to mention it as long as I lived. This, however, +seems an occasion which you have provoked yourself. It isn't at +all a solemn occasion. I don't look upon it as solemn at all. +It's very disagreeable and humiliating. But it has presented +itself. You have never taken a serious interest in the activities +of my life which of course are its distinction and its value. And +why you should be carried away suddenly by a feeling toward the +mere man I don't understand." + +"Therefore you don't approve," Mrs. Travers commented in an even +tone. "But I assure you, you may safely. My feeling was of the +most conventional nature, exactly as if the whole world were +looking on. After all, we are husband and wife. It's eminently +fitting that I should be concerned about your fate. Even the man +you distrust and dislike so much (the warmest feeling, let me +tell you, that I ever saw you display) even that man found my +conduct perfectly proper. His own word. Proper. So eminently +proper that it altogether silenced his objections." + +Mr. Travers shifted uneasily on his seat. + +"It's my belief, Edith, that if you had been a man you would have +led a most irregular life. You would have been a frank +adventurer. I mean morally. It has been a great grief to me. You +have a scorn in you for the serious side of life, for the ideas +and the ambitions of the social sphere to which you belong." + +He stopped because his wife had clasped again her hands behind +her head and was no longer looking at him. + +"It's perfectly obvious," he began again. "We have been living +amongst most distinguished men and women and your attitude to +them has been always so--so negative! You would never recognize +the importance of achievements, of acquired positions. I don't +remember you ever admiring frankly any political or social +success. I ask myself what after all you could possibly have +expected from life." + +"I could never have expected to hear such a speech from you. As +to what I did expect! . . . I must have been very stupid." + +"No, you are anything but that," declared Mr. Travers, +conscientiously. "It isn't stupidity." He hesitated for a moment. +"It's a kind of wilfulness, I think. I preferred not to think +about this grievous difference in our points of view, which, you +will admit, I could not have possibly foreseen before we. . . ." + +A sort of solemn embarrassment had come over Mr. Travers. Mrs. +Travers, leaning her chin on the palm of her hand, stared at the +bare matchboard side of the hut. + +"Do you charge me with profound girlish duplicity?" she asked, +very softly. + +The inside of the deckhouse was full of stagnant heat perfumed by +a slight scent which seemed to emanate from the loose mass of +Mrs. Travers' hair. Mr. Travers evaded the direct question which +struck him as lacking fineness even to the point of impropriety. + +"I must suppose that I was not in the calm possession of my +insight and judgment in those days," he said. "I --I was not in a +critical state of mind at the time," he admitted further; but +even after going so far he did not look up at his wife and +therefore missed something like the ghost of a smile on Mrs. +Travers' lips. That smile was tinged with scepticism which was +too deep-seated for anything but the faintest expression. +Therefore she said nothing, and Mr. Travers went on as if +thinking aloud: + +"Your conduct was, of course, above reproach; but you made for +yourself a detestable reputation of mental superiority, expressed +ironically. You inspired mistrust in the best people. You were +never popular." + +"I was bored," murmured Mrs. Travers in a reminiscent tone and +with her chin resting in the hollow of her hand. + +Mr. Travers got up from the seaman's chest as unexpectedly as if +he had been stung by a wasp, but, of course, with a much slower +and more solemn motion. + +"The matter with you, Edith, is that at heart you are perfectly +primitive." Mrs. Travers stood up, too, with a supple, leisurely +movement, and raising her hands to her hair turned half away with +a pensive remark: + +"Imperfectly civilized." + +"Imperfectly disciplined," corrected Mr. Travers after a moment +of dreary meditation. + +She let her arms fall and turned her head. + +"No, don't say that," she protested with strange earnestness. "I +am the most severely disciplined person in the world. I am +tempted to say that my discipline has stopped at nothing short of +killing myself. I suppose you can hardly understand what I mean." + +Mr. Travers made a slight grimace at the floor. + +"I shall not try," he said. "It sounds like something that a +barbarian, hating the delicate complexities and the restraints of +a nobler life, might have said. From you it strikes me as wilful +bad taste. . . . I have often wondered at your tastes. You have +always liked extreme opinions, exotic costumes, lawless +characters, romantic personalities--like d'Alcacer . . ." + +"Poor Mr. d'Alcacer," murmured Mrs. Travers. + +"A man without any ideas of duty or usefulness," said Mr. +Travers, acidly. "What are you pitying him for?" + +"Why! For finding himself in this position out of mere +good-nature. He had nothing to expect from joining our voyage, no +advantage for his political ambitions or anything of the kind. I +suppose you asked him on board to break our tete-a-tete which +must have grown wearisome to you." + +"I am never bored," declared Mr. Travers. "D'Alcacer seemed glad +to come. And, being a Spaniard, the horrible waste of time cannot +matter to him in the least." + +"Waste of time!" repeated Mrs. Travers, indignantly. + +"He may yet have to pay for his good nature with his life." + +Mr. Travers could not conceal a movement of anger. + +"Ah! I forgot those assumptions," he said between his clenched +teeth. "He is a mere Spaniard. He takes this farcical conspiracy +with perfect nonchalance. Decayed races have their own +philosophy." + +"He takes it with a dignity of his own." + +"I don't know what you call his dignity. I should call it lack of +self-respect." + +"Why? Because he is quiet and courteous, and reserves his +judgment. And allow me to tell you, Martin, that you are not +taking our troubles very well." + +"You can't expect from me all those foreign affectations. I am +not in the habit of compromising with my feelings." + +Mrs. Travers turned completely round and faced her husband. "You +sulk," she said. . . . Mr. Travers jerked his head back a little +as if to let the word go past.--"I am outraged," he declared. +Mrs. Travers recognized there something like real suffering.--"I +assure you," she said, seriously (for she was accessible to +pity), "I assure you that this strange Lingard has no idea of +your importance. He doesn't know anything of your social and +political position and still less of your great ambitions." Mr. +Travers listened with some attention.--"Couldn't you have +enlightened him?" he asked.--"It would have been no use; his mind +is fixed upon his own position and upon his own sense of power. +He is a man of the lower classes. . . ."--"He is a brute," said +Mr. Travers, obstinately, and for a moment those two looked +straight into each other's eyes.--"Oh," said Mrs. Travers, +slowly, "you are determined not to compromise with your +feelings!" An undertone of scorn crept into her voice. "But +shall I tell you what I think? I think," and she advanced her +head slightly toward the pale, unshaven face that confronted her +dark eyes, "I think that for all your blind scorn you judge the +man well enough to feel that you can indulge your indignation +with perfect safety. Do you hear? With perfect safety!" Directly +she had spoken she regretted these words. Really it was +unreasonable to take Mr. Travers' tricks of character more +passionately on this spot of the Eastern Archipelago full of +obscure plots and warring motives than in the more artificial +atmosphere of the town. After all what she wanted was simply to +save his life, not to make him understand anything. Mr. Travers +opened his mouth and without uttering a word shut it again. His +wife turned toward the looking-glass nailed to the wall. She +heard his voice behind her. + +"Edith, where's the truth in all this?" + +She detected the anguish of a slow mind with an instinctive dread +of obscure places wherein new discoveries can be made. She looked +over her shoulder to say: + +"It's on the surface, I assure you. Altogether on the surface." + +She turned again to the looking-glass where her own face met her +with dark eyes and a fair mist of hair above the smooth forehead; +but her words had produced no soothing effect. + +"But what does it mean?" cried Mr. Travers. "Why doesn't the +fellow apologize? Why are we kept here? Are we being kept here? +Why don't we get away? Why doesn't he take me back on board my +yacht? What does he want from me? How did he procure our release +from these people on shore who he says intended to cut our +throats? Why did they give us up to him instead?" + +Mrs. Travers began to twist her hair on her head. + +"Matters of high policy and of local politics. Conflict of +personal interests, mistrust between the parties, intrigues of +individuals--you ought to know how that sort of thing works. His +diplomacy made use of all that. The first thing to do was not to +liberate you but to get you into his keeping. He is a very great +man here and let me tell you that your safety depends on his +dexterity in the use of his prestige rather than on his power +which he cannot use. If you would let him talk to you I am sure +he would tell you as much as it is possible for him to disclose." + +"I don't want to be told about any of his rascalities. But +haven't you been taken into his confidence?" + +"Completely," admitted Mrs. Travers, peering into the small +looking-glass. + +"What is the influence you brought to bear upon this man? It +looks to me as if our fate were in your hands." + +"Your fate is not in my hands. It is not even in his hands. There +is a moral situation here which must be solved." + +"Ethics of blackmail," commented Mr. Travers with unexpected +sarcasm. It flashed through his wife's mind that perhaps she +didn't know him so well as she had supposed. It was as if the +polished and solemn crust of hard proprieties had cracked +slightly, here and there, under the strain, disclosing the mere +wrongheadedness of a common mortal. But it was only manner that +had cracked a little; the marvellous stupidity of his conceit +remained the same. She thought that this discussion was perfectly +useless, and as she finished putting up her hair she said: "I +think we had better go on deck now." + +"You propose to go out on deck like this?" muttered Mr. Travers +with downcast eyes. + +"Like this? Certainly. It's no longer a novelty. Who is going to +be shocked?" + +Mr. Travers made no reply. What she had said of his attitude was +very true. He sulked at the enormous offensiveness of men, +things, and events; of words and even of glances which he seemed +to feel physically resting on his skin like a pain, like a +degrading contact. He managed not to wince. But he sulked. His +wife continued, "And let me tell you that those clothes are fit +for a princess--I mean they are of the quality, material and +style custom prescribes for the highest in the land, a +far-distant land where I am informed women rule as much as the +men. In fact they were meant to be presented to an actual +princess in due course. They were selected with the greatest care +for that child Immada. Captain Lingard. . . ." + +Mr. Travers made an inarticulate noise partaking of a groan and a +grunt. + +"Well, I must call him by some name and this I thought would be +the least offensive for you to hear. After all, the man exists. +But he is known also on a certain portion of the earth's surface +as King Tom. D'Alcacer is greatly taken by that name. It seems to +him wonderfully well adapted to the man, in its familiarity and +deference. And if you prefer. . . ." + +"I would prefer to hear nothing," said Mr. Travers, distinctly. +"Not a single word. Not even from you, till I am a free agent +again. But words don't touch me. Nothing can touch me; neither +your sinister warnings nor the moods of levity which you think +proper to display before a man whose life, according to you, +hangs on a thread." + +"I never forget it for a moment," said Mrs. Travers. "And I not +only know that it does but I also know the strength of the +thread. It is a wonderful thread. You may say if you like it has +been spun by the same fate which made you what you are." + +Mr. Travers felt awfully offended. He had never heard anybody, +let alone his own self, addressed in such terms. The tone seemed +to question his very quality. He reflected with shocked amazement +that he had lived with that woman for eight years! And he said to +her gloomily: + +"You talk like a pagan." + +It was a very strong condemnation which apparently Mrs. Travers +had failed to hear for she pursued with animation: + +"But really, you can't expect me to meditate on it all the time +or shut myself up here and mourn the circumstances from morning +to night. It would be morbid. Let us go on deck." + +"And you look simply heathenish in this costume," Mr. Travers +went on as though he had not been interrupted, and with an accent +of deliberate disgust. + +Her heart was heavy but everything he said seemed to force the +tone of levity on to her lips. "As long as I don't look like a +guy," she remarked, negligently, and then caught the direction of +his lurid stare which as a matter of fact was fastened on her +bare feet. She checked herself, "Oh, yes, if you prefer it I will +put on my stockings. But you know I must be very careful of them. +It's the only pair I have here. I have washed them this morning +in that bathroom which is built over the stern. They are now +drying over the rail just outside. Perhaps you will be good +enough to pass them to me when you go on deck." + +Mr. Travers spun round and went on deck without a word. As soon +as she was alone Mrs. Travers pressed her hands to her temples, a +gesture of distress which relieved her by its sincerity. The +measured footsteps of two men came to her plainly from the deck, +rhythmic and double with a suggestion of tranquil and friendly +intercourse. She distinguished particularly the footfalls of the +man whose life's orbit was most remote from her own. And yet the +orbits had cut! A few days ago she could not have even conceived +of his existence, and now he was the man whose footsteps, it +seemed to her, her ears could single unerringly in the tramp of a +crowd. It was, indeed, a fabulous thing. In the half light of her +over-heated shelter she let an irresolute, frightened smile pass +off her lips before she, too, went on deck. + + + +II + +An ingeniously constructed framework of light posts and thin +laths occupied the greater part of the deck amidships of the +Emma. The four walls of that airy structure were made of muslin. +It was comparatively lofty. A door-like arrangement of light +battens filled with calico was further protected by a system of +curtains calculated to baffle the pursuit of mosquitoes that +haunted the shores of the lagoon in great singing clouds from +sunset till sunrise. A lot of fine mats covered the deck space +within the transparent shelter devised by Lingard and Jorgenson +to make Mrs. Travers' existence possible during the time when the +fate of the two men, and indeed probably of everybody else on +board the Emma, had to hang in the balance. Very soon Lingard's +unbidden and fatal guests had learned the trick of stepping in +and out of the place quickly. Mr. d'Alcacer performed the feat +without apparent haste, almost nonchalantly, yet as well as +anybody. It was generally conceded that he had never let a +mosquito in together with himself. Mr. Travers dodged in and out +without grace and was obviously much irritated at the necessity. +Mrs. Travers did it in a manner all her own, with marked +cleverness and an unconscious air. There was an improvised table +in there and some wicker armchairs which Jorgenson had produced +from somewhere in the depths of the ship. It was hard to say what +the inside of the Emma did not contain. It was crammed with all +sorts of goods like a general store. That old hulk was the +arsenal and the war-chest of Lingard's political action; she was +stocked with muskets and gunpowder, with bales of longcloth, of +cotton prints, of silks; with bags of rice and currency brass +guns. She contained everything necessary for dealing death and +distributing bribes, to act on the cupidity and upon the fears of +men, to march and to organize, to feed the friends and to combat +the enemies of the cause. She held wealth and power in her +flanks, that grounded ship that would swim no more, without masts +and with the best part of her deck cumbered by the two structures +of thin boards and of transparent muslin. + +Within the latter lived the Europeans, visible in the daytime to +the few Malays on board as if through a white haze. In the +evening the lighting of the hurricane lamps inside turned them +into dark phantoms surrounded by a shining mist, against which +the insect world rushing in its millions out of the forest on the +bank was baffled mysteriously in its assault. Rigidly enclosed by +transparent walls, like captives of an enchanted cobweb, they +moved about, sat, gesticulated, conversed publicly during the +day; and at night when all the lanterns but one were +extinguished, their slumbering shapes covered all over by white +cotton sheets on the camp bedsteads, which were brought in every +evening, conveyed the gruesome suggestion of dead bodies reposing +on stretchers. The food, such as it was, was served within that +glorified mosquito net which everybody called the "Cage" without +any humorous intention. At meal times the party from the yacht +had the company of Lingard who attached to this ordeal a sense of +duty performed at the altar of civility and conciliation. He +could have no conception how much his presence added to the +exasperation of Mr. Travers because Mr. Travers' manner was too +intensely consistent to present any shades. It was determined by +an ineradicable conviction that he was a victim held to ransom on +some incomprehensible terms by an extraordinary and outrageous +bandit. This conviction, strung to the highest pitch, never left +him for a moment, being the object of indignant meditation to his +mind, and even clinging, as it were, to his very body. It lurked +in his eyes, in his gestures, in his ungracious mutters, and in +his sinister silences. The shock to his moral being had ended by +affecting Mr. Travers' physical machine. He was aware of hepatic +pains, suffered from accesses of somnolence and suppressed gusts +of fury which frightened him secretly. His complexion had +acquired a yellow tinge, while his heavy eyes had become +bloodshot because of the smoke of the open wood fires during his +three days' detention inside Belarab's stockade. His eyes had +been always very sensitive to outward conditions. D'Alcacer's +fine black eyes were more enduring and his appearance did not +differ very much from his ordinary appearance on board the yacht. +He had accepted with smiling thanks the offer of a thin blue +flannel tunic from Jorgenson. Those two men were much of the same +build, though of course d'Alcacer, quietly alive and spiritually +watchful, did not resemble Jorgenson, who, without being exactly +macabre, behaved more like an indifferent but restless corpse. +Those two could not be said to have ever conversed together. +Conversation with Jorgenson was an impossible thing. Even Lingard +never attempted the feat. He propounded questions to Jorgenson +much as a magician would interrogate an evoked shade, or gave him +curt directions as one would make use of some marvellous +automaton. And that was apparently the way in which Jorgenson +preferred to be treated. Lingard's real company on board the Emma +was d'Alcacer. D'Alcacer had met Lingard on the easy terms of a +man accustomed all his life to good society in which the very +affectations must be carried on without effort. Whether +affectation, or nature, or inspired discretion, d'Alcacer never +let the slightest curiosity pierce the smoothness of his level, +grave courtesy lightened frequently by slight smiles which often +had not much connection with the words he uttered, except that +somehow they made them sound kindly and as it were tactful. In +their character, however, those words were strictly neutral. + +The only time when Lingard had detected something of a deeper +comprehension in d'Alcacer was the day after the long +negotiations inside Belarab's stockade for the temporary +surrender of the prisoners. That move had been suggested to him, +exactly as Mrs. Travers had told her husband, by the rivalries of +the parties and the state of public opinion in the Settlement +deprived of the presence of the man who, theoretically at least, +was the greatest power and the visible ruler of the Shore of +Refuge. Belarab still lingered at his father's tomb. Whether that +man of the embittered and pacific heart had withdrawn there to +meditate upon the unruliness of mankind and the thankless nature +of his task; or whether he had gone there simply to bathe in a +particularly clear pool which was a feature of the place, give +himself up to the enjoyment of a certain fruit which grew in +profusion there and indulge for a time in a scrupulous +performance of religious exercises, his absence from the +Settlement was a fact of the utmost gravity. It is true that the +prestige of a long-unquestioned rulership and the long-settled +mental habits of the people had caused the captives to be taken +straight to Belarab's stockade as a matter of course. Belarab, at +a distance, could still outweigh the power on the spot of Tengga, +whose secret purposes were no better known, who was jovial, +talkative, outspoken and pugnacious; but who was not a professed +servant of God famed for many charities and a scrupulous +performance of pious practices, and who also had no father who +had achieved a local saintship. But Belarab, with his glamour of +asceticism and melancholy together with a reputation for severity +(for a man so pious would be naturally ruthless), was not on the +spot. The only favourable point in his absence was the fact that +he had taken with him his latest wife, the same lady whom +Jorgenson had mentioned in his letter to Lingard as anxious to +bring about battle, murder, and the looting of the yacht, not +because of inborn wickedness of heart but from a simple desire +for silks, jewels and other objects of personal adornment, quite +natural in a girl so young and elevated to such a high position. +Belarab had selected her to be the companion of his retirement +and Lingard was glad of it. He was not afraid of her influence +over Belarab. He knew his man. No words, no blandishments, no +sulks, scoldings, or whisperings of a favourite could affect +either the resolves or the irresolutions of that Arab whose +action ever seemed to hang in mystic suspense between the +contradictory speculations and judgments disputing the possession +of his will. It was not what Belarab would either suddenly do or +leisurely determine upon that Lingard was afraid of. The danger +was that in his taciturn hesitation, which had something +hopelessly godlike in its remote calmness, the man would do +nothing and leave his white friend face to face with unruly +impulses against which Lingard had no means of action but force +which he dared not use since it would mean the destruction of his +plans and the downfall of his hopes; and worse still would wear +an aspect of treachery to Hassim and Immada, those fugitives whom +he had snatched away from the jaws of death on a night of storm +and had promised to lead back in triumph to their own country he +had seen but once, sleeping unmoved under the wrath and fire of +heaven. + +On the afternoon of the very day he had arrived with her on board +the Emma--to the infinite disgust of Jorgenson-- Lingard held +with Mrs. Travers (after she had had a couple of hours' rest) a +long, fiery, and perplexed conversation. From the nature of the +problem it could not be exhaustive; but toward the end of it they +were both feeling thoroughly exhausted. Mrs. Travers had no +longer to be instructed as to facts and possibilities. She was +aware of them only too well and it was not her part to advise or +argue. She was not called upon to decide or to plead. The +situation was far beyond that. But she was worn out with watching +the passionate conflict within the man who was both so +desperately reckless and so rigidly restrained in the very ardour +of his heart and the greatness of his soul. It was a spectacle +that made her forget the actual questions at issue. This was no +stage play; and yet she had caught herself looking at him with +bated breath as at a great actor on a darkened stage in some +simple and tremendous drama. He extorted from her a response to +the forces that seemed to tear at his single-minded brain, at his +guileless breast. He shook her with his own struggles, he +possessed her with his emotions and imposed his personality as if +its tragedy were the only thing worth considering in this matter. +And yet what had she to do with all those obscure and barbarous +things? Obviously nothing. Unluckily she had been taken into the +confidence of that man's passionate perplexity, a confidence +provoked apparently by nothing but the power of her personality. +She was flattered, and even more, she was touched by it; she was +aware of something that resembled gratitude and provoked a sort +of emotional return as between equals who had secretly recognized +each other's value. Yet at the same time she regretted not having +been left in the dark; as much in the dark as Mr. Travers himself +or d'Alcacer, though as to the latter it was impossible to say +how much precise, unaccountable, intuitive knowledge was buried +under his unruffled manner. + +D'Alcacer was the sort of man whom it would be much easier to +suspect of anything in the world than ignorance--or stupidity. +Naturally he couldn't know anything definite or even guess at the +bare outline of the facts but somehow he must have scented the +situation in those few days of contact with Lingard. He was an +acute and sympathetic observer in all his secret aloofness from +the life of men which was so very different from Jorgenson's +secret divorce from the passions of this earth. Mrs. Travers +would have liked to share with d'Alcacer the burden (for it was a +burden) of Lingard's story. After all, she had not provoked those +confidences, neither had that unexpected adventurer from the sea +laid on her an obligation of secrecy. No, not even by +implication. He had never said to her that she was the ONLY +person whom he wished to know that story. + +No. What he had said was that she was the only person to whom he +COULD tell the tale himself, as if no one else on earth had the +power to draw it from him. That was the sense and nothing more. +Yes, it would have been a relief to tell d'Alcacer. It would have +been a relief to her feeling of being shut off from the world +alone with Lingard as if within the four walls of a romantic +palace and in an exotic atmosphere. Yes, that relief and also +another: that of sharing the responsibility with somebody fit to +understand. Yet she shrank from it, with unaccountable reserve, +as if by talking of Lingard with d'Alcacer she was bound to give +him an insight into herself. It was a vague uneasiness and yet so +persistent that she felt it, too, when she had to approach and +talk to Lingard under d'Alcacer's eyes. Not that Mr. d'Alcacer +would ever dream of staring or even casting glances. But was he +averting his eyes on purpose? That would be even more offensive. + +"I am stupid," whispered Mrs. Travers to herself, with a complete +and reassuring conviction. Yet she waited motionless till the +footsteps of the two men stopped outside the deckhouse, then +separated and died away, before she went out on deck. She came +out on deck some time after her husband. As if in intended +contrast to the conflicts of men a great aspect of serenity lay +upon all visible things. Mr. Travers had gone inside the Cage in +which he really looked like a captive and thoroughly out of +place. D'Alcacer had gone in there, too, but he preserved--or was +it an illusion? --an air of independence. It was not that he put +it on. Like Mr. Travers he sat in a wicker armchair in very much +the same attitude as the other gentleman and also silent; but +there was somewhere a subtle difference which did away with the +notion of captivity. Moreover, d'Alcacer had that peculiar gift +of never looking out of place in any surroundings. Mrs. Travers, +in order to save her European boots for active service, had been +persuaded to use a pair of leather sandals also extracted from +that seaman's chest in the deckhouse. An additional fastening had +been put on them but she could not avoid making a delicate +clatter as she walked on the deck. No part of her costume made +her feel so exotic. It also forced her to alter her usual gait +and move with quick, short steps very much like Immada. + +"I am robbing the girl of her clothes," she had thought to +herself, "besides other things." She knew by this time that a +girl of such high rank would never dream of wearing anything that +had been worn by somebody else. + +At the slight noise of Mrs. Travers' sandals d'Alcacer looked +over the back of his chair. But he turned his head away at once +and Mrs. Travers, leaning her elbow on the rail and resting her +head on the palm of her hand, looked across the calm surface of +the lagoon, idly. + +She was turning her back on the Cage, the fore-part of the deck +and the edge of the nearest forest. That great erection of +enormous solid trunks, dark, rugged columns festooned with +writhing creepers and steeped in gloom, was so close to the bank +that by looking over the side of the ship she could see inverted +in the glassy belt of water its massive and black reflection on +the reflected sky that gave the impression of a clear blue abyss +seen through a transparent film. And when she raised her eyes the +same abysmal immobility seemed to reign over the whole sun-bathed +enlargement of that lagoon which was one of the secret places of +the earth. She felt strongly her isolation. She was so much the +only being of her kind moving within this mystery that even to +herself she looked like an apparition without rights and without +defence and that must end by surrendering to those forces which +seemed to her but the expression of the unconscious genius of the +place. Hers was the most complete loneliness, charged with a +catastrophic tension. It lay about her as though she had been set +apart within a magic circle. It cut off--but it did not protect. +The footsteps that she knew how to distinguish above all others +on that deck were heard suddenly behind her. She did not turn her +head. + +Since that afternoon when the gentlemen, as Lingard called them, +had been brought on board, Mrs. Travers and Lingard had not +exchanged one significant word. + +When Lingard had decided to proceed by way of negotiation she had +asked him on what he based his hope of success; and he had +answered her: "On my luck." What he really depended on was his +prestige; but even if he had been aware of such a word he would +not have used it, since it would have sounded like a boast. And, +besides, he did really believe in his luck. Nobody, either white +or brown, had ever doubted his word and that, of course, gave him +great assurance in entering upon the negotiation. But the +ultimate issue of it would be always a matter of luck. He said so +distinctly to Mrs. Travers at the moment of taking leave of her, +with Jorgenson already waiting for him in the boat that was to +take them across the lagoon to Belarab's stockade. + +Startled by his decision (for it had come suddenly clinched by +the words "I believe I can do it"), Mrs. Travers had dropped her +hand into his strong open palm on which an expert in palmistry +could have distinguished other lines than the line of luck. +Lingard's hand closed on hers with a gentle pressure. She looked +at him, speechless. He waited for a moment, then in an +unconsciously tender voice he said: "Well, wish me luck then." + +She remained silent. And he still holding her hand looked +surprised at her hesitation. It seemed to her that she could not +let him go, and she didn't know what to say till it occurred to +her to make use of the power she knew she had over him. She would +try it again. "I am coming with you," she declared with decision. +"You don't suppose I could remain here in suspense for hours, +perhaps." + +He dropped her hand suddenly as if it had burnt him--"Oh, yes, of +course," he mumbled with an air of confusion. One of the men over +there was her husband! And nothing less could be expected from +such a woman. He had really nothing to say but she thought he +hesitated.--"Do you think my presence would spoil everything? I +assure you I am a lucky person, too, in a way. . . . As lucky as +you, at least," she had added in a murmur and with a smile which +provoked his responsive mutter--"Oh, yes, we are a lucky pair of +people."--"I count myself lucky in having found a man like you to +fight my--our battles," she said, warmly. "Suppose you had not +existed? . . . . You must let me come with you!" For the second +time before her expressed wish to stand by his side he bowed his +head. After all, if things came to the worst, she would be as +safe between him and Jorgenson as left alone on board the Emma +with a few Malay spearmen for all defence. For a moment Lingard +thought of picking up the pistols he had taken out of his belt +preparatory to joining Jorgenson in the boat, thinking it would +be better to go to a big talk completely unarmed. They were lying +on the rail but he didn't pick them up. Four shots didn't matter. +They could not matter if the world of his creation were to go to +pieces. He said nothing of that to Mrs. Travers but busied +himself in giving her the means to alter her personal appearance. +It was then that the sea-chest in the deckhouse was opened for +the first time before the interested Mrs. Travers who had +followed him inside. Lingard handed to her a Malay woman's light +cotton coat with jewelled clasps to put over her European dress. +It covered half of her yachting skirt. Mrs. Travers obeyed him +without comment. He pulled out a long and wide scarf of white +silk embroidered heavily on the edges and ends, and begged her to +put it over her head and arrange the ends so as to muffle her +face, leaving little more than her eyes exposed to view.--"We are +going amongst a lot of Mohammedans," he explained. --"I see. You +want me to look respectable," she jested.--"I assure you, Mrs. +Travers," he protested, earnestly, "that most of the people there +and certainly all the great men have never seen a white woman in +their lives. But perhaps you would like better one of those other +scarves? There are three in there."--"No, I like this one well +enough. They are all very gorgeous. I see that the Princess is to +be sent back to her land with all possible splendour. What a +thoughtful man you are, Captain Lingard. That child will be +touched by your generosity. . . . Will I do like this?" + +"Yes," said Lingard, averting his eyes. Mrs. Travers followed him +into the boat where the Malays stared in silence while Jorgenson, +stiff and angular, gave no sign of life, not even so much as a +movement of the eyes. Lingard settled her in the stern sheets and +sat down by her side. The ardent sunshine devoured all colours. +The boat swam forward on the glare heading for the strip of coral +beach dazzling like a crescent of metal raised to a white heat. +They landed. Gravely, Jorgenson opened above Mrs. Travers' head a +big white cotton parasol and she advanced between the two men, +dazed, as if in a dream and having no other contact with the +earth but through the soles of her feet. Everything was still, +empty, incandescent, and fantastic. Then when the gate of the +stockade was thrown open she perceived an expectant and still +multitude of bronze figures draped in coloured stuffs. They +crowded the patches of shade under the three lofty forest trees +left within the enclosure between the sun-smitten empty spaces of +hard-baked ground. The broad blades of the spears decorated with +crimson tufts of horsehair had a cool gleam under the outspread +boughs. To the left a group of buildings on piles with long +verandahs and immense roofs towered high in the air above the +heads of the crowd, and seemed to float in the glare, looking +much less substantial than their heavy shadows. Lingard, pointing +to one of the smallest, said in an undertone, "I lived there for +a fortnight when I first came to see Belarab"; and Mrs. Travers +felt more than ever as if walking in a dream when she perceived +beyond the rails of its verandah and visible from head to foot +two figures in an armour of chain mail with pointed steel helmets +crested with white and black feathers and guarding the closed +door. A high bench draped in turkey cloth stood in an open space +of the great audience shed. Lingard led her up to it, Jorgenson +on her other side closed the parasol calmly, and when she sat +down between them the whole throng before her eyes sank to the +ground with one accord disclosing in the distance of the +courtyard a lonely figure leaning against the smooth trunk of a +tree. A white cloth was fastened round his head by a yellow cord. +Its pointed ends fell on his shoulders, framing a thin dark face +with large eyes, a silk cloak striped black and white fell to his +feet, and in the distance he looked aloof and mysterious in his +erect and careless attitude suggesting assurance and power. + +Lingard, bending slightly, whispered into Mrs. Travers' ear that +that man, apart and dominating the scene, was Daman, the supreme +leader of the Illanuns, the one who had ordered the capture of +those gentlemen in order perhaps to force his hand. The two +barbarous, half-naked figures covered with ornaments and charms, +squatting at his feet with their heads enfolded in crimson and +gold handkerchiefs and with straight swords lying across their +knees, were the Pangerans who carried out the order, and had +brought the captives into the lagoon. But the two men in chain +armour on watch outside the door of the small house were +Belarab's two particular body-guards, who got themselves up in +that way only on very great occasions. They were the outward and +visible sign that the prisoners were in Belarab's keeping, and +this was good, so far. The pity was that the Great Chief himself +was not there. Then Lingard assumed a formal pose and Mrs. +Travers stared into the great courtyard and with rows and rows of +faces ranged on the ground at her feet felt a little giddy for a +moment. + +Every movement had died in the crowd. Even the eyes were still +under the variegated mass of coloured headkerchiefs: while beyond +the open gate a noble palm tree looked intensely black against +the glitter of the lagoon and the pale incandescence of the sky. +Mrs. Travers gazing that way wondered at the absence of Hassim +and Immada. But the girl might have been somewhere within one of +the houses with the ladies of Belarab's stockade. Then suddenly +Mrs. Travers became aware that another bench had been brought out +and was already occupied by five men dressed in gorgeous silks, +and embroidered velvets, round-faced and grave. Their hands +reposed on their knees; but one amongst them clad in a white robe +and with a large nearly black turban on his head leaned forward a +little with his chin in his hand. His cheeks were sunken and his +eyes remained fixed on the ground as if to avoid looking at the +infidel woman. + +She became aware suddenly of a soft murmur, and glancing at +Lingard she saw him in an attitude of impassive attention. The +momentous negotiations had begun, and it went on like this in low +undertones with long pauses and in the immobility of all the +attendants squatting on the ground, with the distant figure of +Daman far off in the shade towering over all the assembly. But in +him, too, Mrs. Travers could not detect the slightest movement +while the slightly modulated murmurs went on enveloping her in a +feeling of peace. + +The fact that she couldn't understand anything of what was said +soothed her apprehensions. Sometimes a silence fell and Lingard +bending toward her would whisper, "It isn't so easy," and the +stillness would be so perfect that she would hear the flutter of +a pigeon's wing somewhere high up in the great overshadowing +trees. And suddenly one of the men before her without moving a +limb would begin another speech rendered more mysterious still by +the total absence of action or play of feature. Only the +watchfulness of the eyes which showed that the speaker was not +communing with himself made it clear that this was not a spoken +meditation but a flow of argument directed to Lingard who now and +then uttered a few words either with a grave or a smiling +expression. They were always followed by murmurs which seemed +mostly to her to convey assent; and then a reflective silence +would reign again and the immobility of the crowd would appear +more perfect than before. + +When Lingard whispered to her that it was now his turn to make a +speech Mrs. Travers expected him to get up and assert himself by +some commanding gesture. But he did not. He remained seated, only +his voice had a vibrating quality though he obviously tried to +restrain it, and it travelled masterfully far into the silence. +He spoke for a long time while the sun climbing the unstained sky +shifted the diminished shadows of the trees, pouring on the heads +of men its heat through the thick and motionless foliage. +Whenever murmurs arose he would stop and glancing fearlessly at +the assembly, wait till they subsided. Once or twice, they rose +to a loud hum and Mrs. Travers could hear on the other side of +her Jorgenson muttering something in his moustache. Beyond the +rows of heads Daman under the tree had folded his arms on his +breast. The edge of the white cloth concealed his forehead and at +his feet the two Illanun chiefs, half naked and bedecked with +charms and ornaments of bright feathers, of shells, with +necklaces of teeth, claws, and shining beads, remained +cross-legged with their swords across their knees like two bronze +idols. Even the plumes of their head-dresses stirred not. + +"Sudah! It is finished!" A movement passed along all the heads, +the seated bodies swayed to and fro. Lingard had ceased speaking. +He remained seated for a moment looking his audience all over and +when he stood up together with Mrs. Travers and Jorgenson the +whole assembly rose from the ground together and lost its ordered +formation. Some of Belarab's retainers, young broad-faced +fellows, wearing a sort of uniform of check-patterned sarongs, +black silk jackets and crimson skull-caps set at a rakish angle, +swaggered through the broken groups and ranged themselves in two +rows before the motionless Daman and his Illanun chiefs in +martial array. The members of the council who had left their +bench approached the white people with gentle smiles and +deferential movements of the hands. Their bearing was faintly +propitiatory; only the man in the big turban remained fanatically +aloof, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. + +"I have done it," murmured Lingard to Mrs. Travers. --"Was it +very difficult?" she asked.--"No," he said, conscious in his +heart that he had strained to the fullest extent the prestige of +his good name and that habit of deference to his slightest wish +established by the glamour of his wealth and the fear of his +personality in this great talk which after all had done nothing +except put off the decisive hour. He offered Mrs. Travers his arm +ready to lead her away, but at the last moment did not move. + +With an authoritative gesture Daman had parted the ranks of +Belarab's young followers with the red skullcaps and was seen +advancing toward the whites striking into an astonished silence +all the scattered groups in the courtyard. But the broken ranks +had closed behind him. The Illanun chiefs, for all their +truculent aspect, were much too prudent to attempt to move. They +had not needed for that the faint warning murmur from Daman. He +advanced alone. The plain hilt of a sword protruded from the open +edges of his cloak. The parted edges disclosed also the butts of +two flintlock pistols. The Koran in a velvet case hung on his +breast by a red cord of silk. He was pious, magnificent, and +warlike, with calm movements and a straight glance from under the +hem of the simple piece of linen covering his head. He carried +himself rigidly and his bearing had a sort of solemn modesty. +Lingard said hurriedly to Mrs. Travers that the man had met white +people before and that, should he attempt to shake hands with +her, she ought to offer her own covered with the end of her +scarf.--"Why?" she asked. "Propriety?"--"Yes, it will be better," +said Lingard and the next moment Mrs. Travers felt her enveloped +hand pressed gently by slender dark fingers and felt extremely +Oriental herself when, with her face muffled to the eyes, she +encountered the lustrous black stare of the sea-robbers' leader. +It was only for an instant, because Daman turned away at once to +shake hands with Lingard. In the straight, ample folds of his +robes he looked very slender facing the robust white man. + +"Great is your power," he said, in a pleasant voice. "The white +men are going to be delivered to you." + +"Yes, they pass into my keeping," said Lingard, returning the +other's bright smile but otherwise looking grim enough with the +frown which had settled on his forehead at Daman's approach. He +glanced over his shoulder at a group of spearmen escorting the +two captives who had come down the steps from the hut. At the +sight of Daman barring as it were Lingard's way they had stopped +at some distance and had closed round the two white men. Daman +also glanced dispassionately that way. + +"They were my guests," he murmured. "Please God I shall come soon +to ask you for them . . . as a friend," he added after a slight +pause. + +"And please God you will not go away empty handed," said Lingard, +smoothing his brow. "After all you and I were not meant to meet +only to quarrel. Would you have preferred to see them pass into +Tengga's keeping?" + +"Tengga is fat and full of wiles," said Daman, disdainfully, "a +mere shopkeeper smitten by a desire to be a chief. He is nothing. +But you and I are men that have real power. Yet there is a truth +that you and I can confess to each other. Men's hearts grow +quickly discontented. Listen. The leaders of men are carried +forward in the hands of their followers; and common men's minds +are unsteady, their desires changeable, and their thoughts not to +be trusted. You are a great chief they say. Do not forget that I +am a chief, too, and a leader of armed men." + +"I have heard of you, too," said Lingard in a composed voice. + +Daman had cast his eyes down. Suddenly he opened them very wide +with an effect that startled Mrs. Travers.--"Yes. But do you +see?" Mrs. Travers, her hand resting lightly on Lingard's arm, +had the sensation of acting in a gorgeously got up play on the +brilliantly lighted stage of an exotic opera whose accompaniment +was not music but the varied strains of the all-pervading +silence.--"Yes, I see," Lingard replied with a surprisingly +confidential intonation. "But power, too, is in the hands of a +great leader." + +Mrs. Travers watched the faint movements of Daman's nostrils as +though the man were suffering from some powerful emotion, while +under her fingers Lingard's forearm in its white sleeve was as +steady as a limb of marble. Without looking at him she seemed to +feel that with one movement he could crush that nervous figure in +which lived the breath of the great desert haunted by his nomad, +camel-riding ancestors.--"Power is in the hand of God," he said, +all animation dying out of his face, and paused to wait for +Lingard's "Very true," then continued with a fine smile, "but He +apportions it according to His will for His own purposes, even to +those that are not of the Faith." + +"Such being the will of God you should harbour no bitterness +against them in your heart." + +The low exclamation, "Against those!" and a slight dismissing +gesture of a meagre dark hand out of the folds of the cloak were +almost understandable to Mrs. Travers in the perfection of their +melancholy contempt, and gave Lingard a further insight into the +character of the ally secured to him by the diplomacy of Belarab. +He was only half reassured by this assumption of superior +detachment. He trusted to the man's self-interest more; for Daman +no doubt looked to the reconquered kingdom for the reward of +dignity and ease. His father and grandfather (the men of whom +Jorgenson had written as having been hanged for an example twelve +years before) had been friends of Sultans, advisers of Rulers, +wealthy financiers of the great raiding expeditions of the past. +It was hatred that had turned Daman into a self-made outcast, +till Belarab's diplomacy had drawn him out from some obscure and +uneasy retreat. + +In a few words Lingard assured Daman of the complete safety of +his followers as long as they themselves made no attempt to get +possession of the stranded yacht. Lingard understood very well +that the capture of Travers and d'Alcacer was the result of a +sudden fear, a move directed by Daman to secure his own safety. +The sight of the stranded yacht shook his confidence completely. +It was as if the secrets of the place had been betrayed. After +all, it was perhaps a great folly to trust any white man, no +matter how much he seemed estranged from his own people. Daman +felt he might have been the victim of a plot. Lingard's brig +appeared to him a formidable engine of war. He did not know what +to think and the motive for getting hold of the two white men was +really the wish to secure hostages. Distrusting the fierce +impulses of his followers he had hastened to put them into +Belarab's keeping. But everything in the Settlement seemed to him +suspicious: Belarab's absence, Jorgenson's refusal to make over +at once the promised supply of arms and ammunition. And now that +white man had by the power of his speech got them away from +Belarab's people. So much influence filled Daman with wonder and +awe. A recluse for many years in the most obscure corner of the +Archipelago he felt himself surrounded by intrigues. But the +alliance was a great thing, too. He did not want to quarrel. He +was quite willing for the time being to accept Lingard's +assurance that no harm should befall his people encamped on the +sandbanks. Attentive and slight, he seemed to let Lingard's +deliberate words sink into him. The force of that unarmed big man +seemed overwhelming. He bowed his head slowly. + +"Allah is our refuge," he murmured, accepting the inevitable. + +He delighted Mrs. Travers not as a living being but like a clever +sketch in colours, a vivid rendering of an artist's vision of +some soul, delicate and fierce. His bright half-smile was +extraordinary, sharp like clear steel, painfully penetrating. +Glancing right and left Mrs. Travers saw the whole courtyard +smitten by the desolating fury of sunshine and peopled with +shadows, their forms and colours fading in the violence of the +light. The very brown tones of roof and wall dazzled the eye. +Then Daman stepped aside. He was no longer smiling and Mrs. +Travers advanced with her hand on Lingard's arm through a heat so +potent that it seemed to have a taste, a feel, a smell of its +own. She moved on as if floating in it with Lingard's support. + +"Where are they?" she asked. + +"They are following us all right," he answered. Lingard was so +certain that the prisoners would be delivered to him on the beach +that he never glanced back till, after reaching the boat, he and +Mrs. Travers turned about. + +The group of spearmen parted right and left, and Mr. Travers and +d'Alcacer walked forward alone looking unreal and odd like their +own day-ghosts. Mr. Travers gave no sign of being aware of his +wife's presence. It was certainly a shock to him. But d'Alcacer +advanced smiling, as if the beach were a drawing. room. + +With a very few paddlers the heavy old European-built boat moved +slowly over the water that seemed as pale and blazing as the sky +above. Jorgenson had perched himself in the bow. The other four +white people sat in the stern sheets, the ex-prisoners side by +side in the middle. Lingard spoke suddenly. + +"I want you both to understand that the trouble is not over yet. +Nothing is finished. You are out on my bare word." + +While Lingard was speaking Mr. Travers turned his face away but +d'Alcacer listened courteously. Not another word was spoken for +the rest of the way. The two gentlemen went up the ship's side +first. Lingard remained to help Mrs. Travers at the foot of the +ladder. She pressed his hand strongly and looking down at his +upturned face: + +"This was a wonderful success," she said. + +For a time the character of his fascinated gaze did not change. +It was as if she had said nothing. Then he whispered, admiringly, +"You understand everything." + +She moved her eyes away and had to disengage her hand to which he +clung for a moment, giddy, like a man falling out of the world. + + + +III + +Mrs. Travers, acutely aware of Lingard behind her, remained +gazing over the lagoon. After a time he stepped forward and +placed himself beside her close to the rail. She went on staring +at the sheet of water turned to deep purple under the sunset sky. + +"Why have you been avoiding me since we came back from the +stockade?" she asked in a deadened voice. + +"There is nothing to tell you till Rajah Hassim and his sister +Immada return with some news," Lingard answered in the same tone. +"Has my friend succeeded? Will Belarab listen to any arguments? +Will he consent to come out of his shell? Is he on his way back? +I wish I knew! . . . Not a whisper comes from there! He may have +started two days ago and he may be now near the outskirts of the +Settlement. Or he may have gone into camp half way down, from +some whim or other; or he may be already arrived for all I know. +We should not have seen him. The road from the hills does not +lead along the beach." + +He snatched nervously at the long glass and directed it at the +dark stockade. The sun had sunk behind the forests leaving the +contour of the tree-tops outlined by a thread of gold under a +band of delicate green lying across the lower sky. Higher up a +faint crimson glow faded into the darkened blue overhead. The +shades of the evening deepened over the lagoon, clung to the +sides of the Emma and to the forms of the further shore. Lingard +laid the glass down. + +"Mr. d'Alcacer, too, seems to have been avoiding me," said Mrs. +Travers. "You are on very good terms with him, Captain Lingard." + +"He is a very pleasant man," murmured Lingard, absently. "But he +says funny things sometimes. He inquired the other day if there +were any playing cards on board, and when I asked him if he liked +card-playing, just for something to say, he told me with that +queer smile of his that he had read a story of some people +condemned to death who passed the time before execution playing +card games with their guards." + +"And what did you say?" + +"I told him that there were probably cards on board +somewhere--Jorgenson would know. Then I asked him whether he +looked on me as a gaoler. He was quite startled and sorry for +what he said." + +"It wasn't very kind of you, Captain Lingard." + +"It slipped out awkwardly and we made it up with a laugh." + +Mrs. Travers leaned her elbows on the rail and put her head into +her hands. Every attitude of that woman surprised Lingard by its +enchanting effect upon himself. He sighed, and the silence lasted +for a long while. + +"I wish I had understood every word that was said that morning." + +"That morning," repeated Lingard. "What morning do you mean?" + +"I mean the morning when I walked out of Belarab's stockade on +your arm, Captain Lingard, at the head of the procession. It +seemed to me that I was walking on a splendid stage in a scene +from an opera, in a gorgeous show fit to make an audience hold +its breath. You can't possibly guess how unreal all this seemed, +and how artificial I felt myself. An opera, you know. . . ." + +"I know. I was a gold digger at one time. Some of us used to come +down to Melbourne with our pockets full of money. I daresay it +was poor enough to what you must have seen, but once I went to a +show like that. It was a story acted to music. All the people +went singing through it right to the very end." + +"How it must have jarred on your sense of reality," said Mrs. +Travers, still not looking at him. "You don't remember the name +of the opera?" + +"No. I never troubled my head about it. We --our lot never did." + +"I won't ask you what the story was like. It must have appeared +to you like the very defiance of all truth. Would real people go +singing through their life anywhere except in a fairy tale?" + +"These people didn't always sing for joy," said Lingard, simply. +"I don't know much about fairy tales." + +"They are mostly about princesses," murmured Mrs. Travers. + +Lingard didn't quite hear. He bent his ear for a moment but she +wasn't looking at him and he didn't ask her to repeat her remark. +"Fairy tales are for children, I believe," he said. "But that +story with music I am telling you of, Mrs. Travers, was not a +tale for children. I assure you that of the few shows I have seen +that one was the most real to me. More real than anything in +life." + +Mrs. Travers, remembering the fatal inanity of most opera +librettos, was touched by these words as if there had been +something pathetic in this readiness of response; as if she had +heard a starved man talking of the delight of a crust of dry +bread. "I suppose you forgot yourself in that story, whatever it +was," she remarked in a detached tone. + +"Yes, it carried me away. But I suppose you know the feeling." + +"No. I never knew anything of the kind, not even when I was a +chit of a girl." Lingard seemed to accept this statement as an +assertion of superiority. He inclined his head slightly. +Moreover, she might have said what she liked. What pleased him +most was her not looking at him; for it enabled him to +contemplate with perfect freedom the curve of her cheek, her +small ear half hidden by the clear mesh of fine hair, the +fascination of her uncovered neck. And her whole person was an +impossible, an amazing and solid marvel which somehow was not so +much convincing to the eye as to something within him that was +apparently independent of his senses. Not even for a moment did +he think of her as remote. Untouchable--possibly! But remote--no. +Whether consciously or unconsciously he took her spiritually for +granted. It was materially that she was a wonder of the sort that +is at the same time familiar and sacred. + +"No," Mrs. Travers began again, abruptly. "I never forgot myself +in a story. It was not in me. I have not even been able to forget +myself on that morning on shore which was part of my own story." + +"You carried yourself first rate," said Lingard, smiling at the +nape of her neck, her ear, the film of escaped hair, the +modelling of the corner of her eye. He could see the flutter of +the dark eyelashes: and the delicate flush on her cheek had +rather the effect of scent than of colour. + +"You approved of my behaviour." + +"Just right, I tell you. My word, weren't they all struck of a +heap when they made out what you were." + +"I ought to feel flattered. I will confess to you that I felt +only half disguised and was half angry and wholly uncomfortable. +What helped me, I suppose, was that I wanted to please. . . ." + +"I don't mean to say that they were exactly pleased," broke in +Lingard, conscientiously. "They were startled more." + +"I wanted to please you," dropped Mrs. Travers, negligently. A +faint, hoarse, and impatient call of a bird was heard from the +woods as if calling to the oncoming night. Lingard's face grew +hot in the deepening dusk. The delicate lemon yellow and ethereal +green tints had vanished from the sky and the red glow darkened +menacingly. The sun had set behind the black pall of the forest, +no longer edged with a line of gold. + +Yes, I was absurdly self-conscious," continued Mrs. Travers in a +conversational tone. "And it was the effect of these clothes that +you made me put on over some of my European--I almost said +disguise; because you know in the present more perfect costume I +feel curiously at home; and yet I can't say that these things +really fit me. The sleeves of this silk under-jacket are rather +tight. My shoulders feel bound, too, and as to the sarong it is +scandalously short. According to rule it should have been long +enough to fall over my feet. But I like freedom of movement. I +have had very little of what I liked in life." + +"I can hardly believe that," said Lingard. "If it wasn't for your +saying so. . . ." + +"I wouldn't say so to everybody," she said, turning her head for +a moment to Lingard and turning it away again to the dusk which +seemed to come floating over the black lagoon. Far away in its +depth a couple of feeble lights twinkled; it was impossible to +say whether on the shore or on the edge of the more distant +forest. Overhead the stars were beginning to come out, but faint +yet, as if too remote to be reflected in the lagoon. Only to the +west a setting planet shone through the red fog of the sunset +glow. "It was supposed not to be good for me to have much freedom +of action. So at least I was told. But I have a suspicion that it +was only unpleasing to other people." + +"I should have thought," began Lingard, then hesitated and +stopped. It seemed to him inconceivable that everybody should not +have loved to make that woman happy. And he was impressed by the +bitterness of her tone. Mrs. Travers did not seem curious to know +what he wanted to say and after a time she added, "I don't mean +only when I was a child. I don't remember that very well. I +daresay I was very objectionable as a child." + +Lingard tried to imagine her as a child. The idea was novel to +him. Her perfection seemed to have come into the world complete, +mature, and without any hesitation or weakness. He had nothing in +his experience that could help him to imagine a child of that +class. The children he knew played about the village street and +ran on the beach. He had been one of them. He had seen other +children, of course, since, but he had not been in touch with +them except visually and they had not been English children. Her +childhood, like his own, had been passed in England, and that +very fact made it almost impossible for him to imagine it. He +could not even tell whether it was in town or in the country, or +whether as a child she had even seen the sea. And how could a +child of that kind be objectionable? But he remembered that a +child disapproved of could be very unhappy, and he said: + +"I am sorry." + +Mrs. Travers laughed a little. Within the muslin cage forms had +turned to blurred shadows. Amongst them the form of d'Alcacer +arose and moved. The systematic or else the morbid dumbness of +Mr. Travers bored and exasperated him, though, as a matter of +fact, that gentleman's speeches had never had the power either to +entertain or to soothe his mind. + +"It's very nice of you. You have a great capacity for sympathy, +but after all I am not certain on which side your sympathies lie. +With me, or those much-tried people," said Mrs. Travers. + +"With the child," said Lingard, disregarding the bantering tone. +"A child can have a very bad time of it all to itself." + +"What can you know of it?" she asked. + +"I have my own feelings," he answered in some surprise. + +Mrs. Travers, with her back to him, was covered with confusion. +Neither could she depict to herself his childhood as if he, too, +had come into the world in the fullness of his strength and his +purpose. She discovered a certain naiveness in herself and +laughed a little. He made no sound. + +"Don't be angry," she said. "I wouldn't dream of laughing at your +feelings. Indeed your feelings are the most serious thing that +ever came in my way. I couldn't help laughing at myself--at a +funny discovery I made." + +"In the days of your childhood?" she heard Lingard's deep voice +asking after a pause. + +"Oh, no. Ages afterward. No child could have made that discovery. +Do you know the greatest difference there is between us? It is +this: That I have been living since my childhood in front of a +show and that I never have been taken in for a moment by its +tinsel and its noise or by anything that went on on the stage. Do +you understand what I mean, Captain Lingard?" + +There was a moment of silence. "What does it matter? We are no +children now." There was an infinite gentleness in Lingard's deep +tones. "But if you have been unhappy then don't tell me that it +has not been made up to you since. Surely you have only to make a +sign. A woman like you." + +"You think I could frighten the whole world on to its knees?" + +"No, not frighten." The suggestion of a laugh in the deadened +voice passed off in a catch of the breath. Then he was heard +beginning soberly: "Your husband. . . ." He hesitated a little +and she took the opportunity to say coldly: + +"His name is Mr. Travers." + +Lingard didn't know how to take it. He imagined himself to have +been guilty of some sort of presumption. But how on earth was he +to call the man? After all he was her husband. That idea was +disagreeable to him because the man was also inimical in a +particularly unreasonable and galling manner. At the same time he +was aware that he didn't care a bit for his enmity and had an +idea that he would not have cared for his friendship either. And +suddenly he felt very much annoyed. + +"Yes. That's the man I mean," he said in a contemptuous tone. "I +don't particularly like the name and I am sure I don't want to +talk about him more than I can help. If he hadn't been your +husband I wouldn't have put up with his manners for an hour. Do +you know what would have happened to him if he hadn't been your +husband?" + +"No," said Mrs. Travers. "Do you, Captain Lingard?" + +"Not exactly," he admitted. "Something he wouldn't have liked, +you may be sure." + +"While of course he likes this very much," she observed. Lingard +gave an abrupt laugh. + +"I don't think it's in my power to do anything that he would +like," he said in a serious tone. "Forgive me my frankness, Mrs. +Travers, but he makes it very difficult sometimes for me to keep +civil. Whatever I have had to put up with in life I have never +had to put up with contempt." + +"I quite believe that," said Mrs. Travers. "Don't your friends +call you King Tom?" + +"Nobody that I care for. I have no friends. Oh, yes, they call me +that . ." + +"You have no friends?" + +"Not I," he said with decision. "A man like me has no chums." + +"It's quite possible," murmured Mrs. Travers to herself. + +"No, not even Jorgenson. Old crazy Jorgenson. He calls me King +Tom, too. You see what that's worth." + +"Yes, I see. Or rather I have heard. That poor man has no tone, +and so much depends on that. Now suppose I were to call you King +Tom now and then between ourselves," Mrs. Travers' voice +proposed, distantly tentative in the night that invested her +person with a colourless vagueness of form. + +She waited in the stillness, her elbows on the rail and her face +in her hands as if she had already forgotten what she had said. +She heard at her elbow the deep murmur of: + +"Let's hear you say it." + +She never moved the least bit. The sombre lagoon sparkled faintly +with the reflection of the stars. + +"Oh, yes, I will let you hear it," she said into the starlit +space in a voice of unaccented gentleness which changed subtly as +she went on. "I hope you will never regret that you came out of +your friendless mystery to speak to me, King Tom. How many days +ago it was! And here is another day gone. Tell me how many more +of them there must be? Of these blinding days and nights without +a sound." + +"Be patient," he murmured. "Don't ask me for the impossible." + +"How do you or I know what is possible?" she whispered with a +strange scorn. "You wouldn't dare guess. But I tell you that +every day that passes is more impossible to me than the day +before." + +The passion of that whisper went like a stab into his breast. +"What am I to tell you?" he murmured, as if with despair. +"Remember that every sunset makes it a day less. Do you think I +want you here?" + +A bitter little laugh floated out into the starlight. Mrs. +Travers heard Lingard move suddenly away from her side. She +didn't change her pose by a hair's breadth. Presently she heard +d'Alcacer coming out of the Cage. His cultivated voice asked half +playfully: + +"Have you had a satisfactory conversation? May I be told +something of it?" + +"Mr. d'Alcacer, you are curious." + +"Well, in our position, I confess. . . . You are our only refuge, +remember." + +"You want to know what we were talking about," said Mrs. Travers, +altering slowly her position so as to confront d'Alcacer whose +face was almost undistinguishable. "Oh, well, then, we talked +about opera, the realities and illusions of the stage, of +dresses, of people's names, and things of that sort." + +"Nothing of importance," he said courteously. Mrs. Travers moved +forward and he stepped to one side. Inside the Cage two Malay +hands were hanging round lanterns, the light of which fell on Mr. +Travers' bowed head as he sat in his chair. + +When they were all assembled for the evening meal Jorgenson +strolled up from nowhere in particular as his habit was, and +speaking through the muslin announced that Captain Lingard begged +to be excused from joining the company that evening. Then he +strolled away. From that moment till they got up from the table +and the camp bedsteads were brought in not twenty words passed +between the members of the party within the net. The strangeness +of their situation made all attempts to exchange ideas very +arduous; and apart from that each had thoughts which it was +distinctly useless to communicate to the others. Mr. Travers had +abandoned himself to his sense of injury. He did not so much +brood as rage inwardly in a dull, dispirited way. The +impossibility of asserting himself in any manner galled his very +soul. D'Alcacer was extremely puzzled. Detached in a sense from +the life of men perhaps as much even as Jorgenson himself, he +took yet a reasonable interest in the course of events and had +not lost all his sense of self-preservation. Without being able +to appreciate the exact values of the situation he was not one of +those men who are ever completely in the dark in any given set of +circumstances. Without being humorous he was a good-humoured man. +His habitual, gentle smile was a true expression. More of a +European than of a Spaniard he had that truly aristocratic nature +which is inclined to credit every honest man with something of +its own nobility and in its judgment is altogether independent of +class feeling. He believed Lingard to be an honest man and he +never troubled his head to classify him, except in the sense that +he found him an interesting character. He had a sort of esteem +for the outward personality and the bearing of that seaman. He +found in him also the distinction of being nothing of a type. He +was a specimen to be judged only by its own worth. With his +natural gift of insight d'Alcacer told himself that many overseas +adventurers of history were probably less worthy because +obviously they must have been less simple. He didn't, however, +impart those thoughts formally to Mrs. Travers. In fact he +avoided discussing Lingard with Mrs. Travers who, he thought, was +quite intelligent enough to appreciate the exact shade of his +attitude. If that shade was fine, Mrs. Travers was fine, too; and +there was no need to discuss the colours of this adventure. +Moreover, she herself seemed to avoid all direct discussion of +the Lingard element in their fate. D'Alcacer was fine enough to +be aware that those two seemed to understand each other in a way +that was not obvious even to themselves. Whenever he saw them +together he was always much tempted to observe them. And he +yielded to the temptation. The fact of one's life depending on +the phases of an obscure action authorizes a certain latitude of +behaviour. He had seen them together repeatedly, communing openly +or apart, and there was in their way of joining each other, in +their poses and their ways of separating, something special and +characteristic and pertaining to themselves only, as if they had +been made for each other. + +What he couldn't understand was why Mrs. Travers should have put +off his natural curiosity as to her latest conference with the +Man of Fate by an incredible statement as to the nature of the +conversation. Talk about dresses, opera, people's names. He +couldn't take this seriously. She might have invented, he +thought, something more plausible; or simply have told him that +this was not for him to know. She ought to have known that he +would not have been offended. Couldn't she have seen already that +he accepted the complexion of mystery in her relation to that man +completely, unquestionably; as though it had been something +preordained from the very beginning of things? But he was not +annoyed with Mrs. Travers. After all it might have been true. She +would talk exactly as she liked, and even incredibly, if it so +pleased her, and make the man hang on her lips. And likewise she +was capable of making the man talk about anything by a power of +inspiration for reasons simple or perverse. Opera! Dresses! +Yes--about Shakespeare and the musical glasses! For a mere whim +or for the deepest purpose. Women worthy of the name were like +that. They were very wonderful. They rose to the occasion and +sometimes above the occasion when things were bound to occur that +would be comic or tragic (as it happened) but generally charged +with trouble even to innocent beholders. D'Alcacer thought these +thoughts without bitterness and even without irony. With his +half-secret social reputation as a man of one great passion in a +world of mere intrigues he liked all women. He liked them in +their sentiment and in their hardness, in the tragic character of +their foolish or clever impulses, at which he looked with a sort +of tender seriousness. + +He didn't take a favourable view of the position but he +considered Mrs. Travers' statement about operas and dresses as a +warning to keep off the subject. For this reason he remained +silent through the meal. + +When the bustle of clearing away the table was over he strolled +toward Mrs. Travers and remarked very quietly: + +"I think that in keeping away from us this evening the Man of +Fate was well inspired. We dined like a lot of Carthusian monks." + +"You allude to our silence?" + +"It was most scrupulous. If we had taken an eternal vow we +couldn't have kept it better." + +"Did you feel bored?" + +"Pas du tout," d'Alcacer assured her with whimsical gravity. "I +felt nothing. I sat in a state of blessed vacuity. I believe I +was the happiest of us three. Unless you, too, Mrs. Travers. . . +." + +"It's absolutely no use your fishing for my thoughts, Mr. +d'Alcacer. If I were to let you see them you would be appalled." + +"Thoughts really are but a shape of feelings. Let me congratulate +you on the impassive mask you can put on those horrors you say +you nurse in your breast. It was impossible to tell anything by +your face." + +"You will always say flattering things." + +"Madame, my flatteries come from the very bottom of my heart. I +have given up long ago all desire to please. And I was not trying +to get at your thoughts. Whatever else you may expect from me you +may count on my absolute respect for your privacy. But I suppose +with a mask such as you can make for yourself you really don't +care. The Man of Fate, I noticed, is not nearly as good at it as +you are." + +"What a pretentious name. Do you call him by it to his face, Mr. +d'Alcacer?" + +"No, I haven't the cheek," confessed d'Alcacer, equably. "And, +besides, it's too momentous for daily use. And he is so simple +that he might mistake it for a joke and nothing could be further +from my thoughts. Mrs. Travers, I will confess to you that I +don't feel jocular in the least. But what can he know about +people of our sort? And when I reflect how little people of our +sort can know of such a man I am quite content to address him as +Captain Lingard. It's common and soothing and most respectable +and satisfactory; for Captain is the most empty of all titles. +What is a Captain? Anybody can be a Captain; and for Lingard it's +a name like any other. Whereas what he deserves is something +special, significant, and expressive, that would match his +person, his simple and romantic person." + +He perceived that Mrs. Travers was looking at him intently. They +hastened to turn their eyes away from each other. + +"He would like your appreciation," Mrs. Travers let drop +negligently. + +"I am afraid he would despise it." + +"Despise it! Why, that sort of thing is the very breath of his +nostrils." + +"You seem to understand him, Mrs. Travers. Women have a singular +capacity for understanding. I mean subjects that interest them; +because when their imagination is stimulated they are not afraid +of letting it go. A man is more mistrustful of himself, but women +are born much more reckless. They push on and on under the +protection of secrecy and silence, and the greater the obscurity +of what they wish to explore the greater their courage." + +"Do you mean seriously to tell me that you consider me a creature +of darkness?" + +"I spoke in general," remonstrated d'Alcacer. "Anything else +would have been an impertinence. Yes, obscurity is women's best +friend. Their daring loves it; but a sudden flash of light +disconcerts them. Generally speaking, if they don't get exactly +at the truth they always manage to come pretty near to it." + +Mrs. Travers had listened with silent attention and she allowed +the silence to continue for some time after d'Alcacer had ceased. +When she spoke it was to say in an unconcerned tone that as to +this subject she had had special opportunities. Her +self-possessed interlocutor managed to repress a movement of real +curiosity under an assumption of conventional interest. "Indeed," +he exclaimed, politely. "A special opportunity. How did you +manage to create it?" + +This was too much for Mrs. Travers. "I! Create it!" she +exclaimed, indignantly, but under her breath. "How on earth do +you think I could have done it?" + +Mr. d'Alcacer, as if communing with himself, was heard to murmur +unrepentantly that indeed women seldom knew how they had "done +it," to which Mrs. Travers in a weary tone returned the remark +that no two men were dense in the same way. To this Mr. d'Alcacer +assented without difficulty. "Yes, our brand presents more +varieties. This, from a certain point of view, is obviously to +our advantage. We interest. . . . Not that I imagine myself +interesting to you, Mrs. Travers. But what about the Man of +Fate?" + +"Oh, yes," breathed out Mrs. Travers. + +"I see! Immensely!" said d'Alcacer in a tone of mysterious +understanding. "Was his stupidity so colossal?" + +"It was indistinguishable from great visions that were in no +sense mean and made up for him a world of his own." + +"I guessed that much," muttered d'Alcacer to himself. "But that, +you know, Mrs. Travers, that isn't good news at all to me. World +of dreams, eh? That's very bad, very dangerous. It's almost +fatal, Mrs. Travers." + +"Why all this dismay? Why do you object to a world of dreams?" + +"Because I dislike the prospect of being made a sacrifice of by +those Moors. I am not an optimist like our friend there," he +continued in a low tone nodding toward the dismal figure of Mr. +Travers huddled up in the chair. "I don't regard all this as a +farce and I have discovered in myself a strong objection to +having my throat cut by those gorgeous barbarians after a lot of +fatuous talk. Don't ask me why, Mrs. Travers. Put it down to an +absurd weakness." + +Mrs. Travers made a slight movement in her chair, raising her +hands to her head, and in the dim light of the lanterns d'Alcacer +saw the mass of her clear gleaming hair fall down and spread +itself over her shoulders. She seized half of it in her hands +which looked very white, and with her head inclined a little on +one side she began to make a plait. + +"You are terrifying," he said after watching the movement of her +fingers for a while. + +"Yes . . ?" she accentuated interrogatively. + +"You have the awfulness of the predestined. You, too, are the +prey of dreams." + +"Not of the Moors, then," she uttered, calmly, beginning the +other plait. D'Alcacer followed the operation to the end. Close +against her, her diaphanous shadow on the muslin reproduced her +slightest movements. D'Alcacer turned his eyes away. + +"No! No barbarian shall touch you. Because if it comes to that I +believe HE would be capable of killing you himself." + +A minute elapsed before he stole a glance in her direction. She +was leaning back again, her hands had fallen on her lap and her +head with a plait of hair on each side of her face, her head +incredibly changed in character and suggesting something +medieval, ascetic, drooped dreamily on her breast. + +D'Alcacer waited, holding his breath. She didn't move. In the dim +gleam of jewelled clasps, the faint sheen of gold embroideries +and the shimmer of silks, she was like a figure in a faded +painting. Only her neck appeared dazzlingly white in the smoky +redness of the light. D'Alcacer's wonder approached a feeling of +awe. He was on the point of moving away quietly when Mrs. +Travers, without stirring in the least, let him hear the words: + +"I have told him that every day seemed more difficult to live. +Don't you see how impossible this is?" + +D'Alcacer glanced rapidly across the Cage where Mr. Travers +seemed to be asleep all in a heap and presenting a ruffled +appearance like a sick bird. Nothing was distinct of him but the +bald patch on the top of his head. + +"Yes," he murmured, "it is most unfortunate. . . . I understand +your anxiety, Mrs. Travers, but . . ." + +"I am frightened," she said. + +He reflected a moment. "What answer did you get?" he asked, +softly. + +"The answer was: 'Patience.'" + +D'Alcacer laughed a little.--"You may well laugh," murmured Mrs. +Travers in a tone of anguish.--"That's why I did," he whispered. +"Patience! Didn't he see the horror of it?"--"I don't know. He +walked away," said Mrs. Travers. She looked immovably at her +hands clasped in her lap, and then with a burst of distress, "Mr. +d'Alcacer, what is going to happen?"--"Ah, you are asking +yourself the question at last. THAT will happen which cannot be +avoided; and perhaps you know best what it is."--"No. I am still +asking myself what he will do."--"Ah, that is not for me to +know," declared d'Alcacer. "I can't tell you what he will do, but +I know what will happen to him."--"To him, you say! To him!" she +cried.--"He will break his heart," said d'Alcacer, distinctly, +bending a little over the chair with a slight gasp at his own +audacity--and waited. + +"Croyez-vous?" came at last from Mrs. Travers in an accent so +coldly languid that d'Alcacer felt a shudder run down his spine. + +Was it possible that she was that kind of woman, he asked +himself. Did she see nothing in the world outside herself? Was +she above the commonest kind of compassion? He couldn't suspect +Mrs. Travers of stupidity; but she might have been heartless and, +like some women of her class, quite unable to recognize any +emotion in the world except her own. D'Alcacer was shocked and at +the same time he was relieved because he confessed to himself +that he had ventured very far. However, in her humanity she was +not vulgar enough to be offended. She was not the slave of small +meannesses. This thought pleased d'Alcacer who had schooled +himself not to expect too much from people. But he didn't know +what to do next. After what he had ventured to say and after the +manner in which she had met his audacity the only thing to do was +to change the conversation. Mrs. Travers remained perfectly +still. "I will pretend that I think she is asleep," he thought to +himself, meditating a retreat on tip-toe. + +He didn't know that Mrs. Travers was simply trying to recover the +full command of her faculties. His words had given her a terrible +shock. After managing to utter this defensive "croyez-vous" which +came out of her lips cold and faint as if in a last effort of +dying strength, she felt herself turn rigid and speechless. She +was thinking, stiff all over with emotion: "D'Alcacer has seen +it! How much more has he been able to see?" She didn't ask +herself that question in fear or shame but with a reckless +resignation. Out of that shock came a sensation of peace. A +glowing warmth passed through all her limbs. If d'Alcacer had +peered by that smoky light into her face he might have seen on +her lips a fatalistic smile come and go. But d'Alcacer would not +have dreamed of doing such a thing, and, besides, his attention +just then was drawn in another direction. He had heard subdued +exclamations, had noticed a stir on the decks of the Emma, and +even some sort of noise outside the ship. + +"These are strange sounds," he said. + +"Yes, I hear," Mrs. Travers murmured, uneasily. + +Vague shapes glided outside the Cage, barefooted, almost +noiseless, whispering Malay words secretly. + +"It seems as though a boat had come alongside," observed +d'Alcacer, lending an attentive ear. "I wonder what it means. In +our position. . . ." + +"It may mean anything," interrupted Mrs. Travers. + +"Jaffir is here," said a voice in the darkness of the after end +of the ship. Then there were some more words in which d'Alcacer's +attentive ear caught the word "surat." + +"A message of some sort has come," he said. "They will be calling +Captain Lingard. I wonder what thoughts or what dreams this call +will interrupt." He spoke lightly, looking now at Mrs. Travers +who had altered her position in the chair; and by their tones and +attitudes these two might have been on board the yacht sailing +the sea in perfect safety. "You, of course, are the one who will +be told. Don't you feel a sort of excitement, Mrs. Travers?" + +"I have been lately exhorted to patience," she said in the same +easy tone. "I can wait and I imagine I shall have to wait till +the morning." + +"It can't be very late yet," he said. "Time with us has been +standing still for ever so long. And yet this may be the hour of +fate." + +"Is this the feeling you have at this particular moment?" + +"I have had that feeling for a considerable number of moments +already. At first it was exciting. Now I am only moderately +anxious. I have employed my time in going over all my past life." + +"Can one really do that?" + +"Yes. I can't say I have been bored to extinction. I am still +alive, as you see; but I have done with that and I feel extremely +idle. There is only one thing I would like to do. I want to find +a few words that could convey to you my gratitude for all your +friendliness in the past, at the time when you let me see so much +of you in London. I felt always that you took me on my own terms +and that so kindly that often I felt inclined to think better of +myself. But I am afraid I am wearying you, Mrs. Travers." + +"I assure you you have never done that--in the past. And as to +the present moment I beg you not to go away. Stay by me please. +We are not going to pretend that we are sleepy at this early +hour." + +D'Alcacer brought a stool close to the long chair and sat down on +it. "Oh, yes, the possible hour of fate," he said. "I have a +request to make, Mrs. Travers. I don't ask you to betray +anything. What would be the good? The issue when it comes will be +plain enough. But I should like to get a warning, just something +that would give me time to pull myself together, to compose +myself as it were. I want you to promise me that if the balance +tips against us you will give me a sign. You could, for instance, +seize the opportunity when I am looking at you to put your left +hand to your forehead like this. It is a gesture that I have +never seen you make, and so. . . ." + +"Jorgenson!" Lingard's voice was heard forward where the light of +a lantern appeared suddenly. Then, after a pause, Lingard was +heard again: "Here!" + +Then the silent minutes began to go by. Mrs. Travers reclining in +her chair and d'Alcacer sitting on the stool waited motionless +without a word. Presently through the subdued murmurs and +agitation pervading the dark deck of the Emma Mrs. Travers heard +a firm footstep, and, lantern in hand, Lingard appeared outside +the muslin cage. + +"Will you come out and speak to me?" he said, loudly. "Not you. +The lady," he added in an authoritative tone as d'Alcacer rose +hastily from the stool. "I want Mrs. Travers." + +"Of course," muttered d'Alcacer to himself and as he opened the +door of the Cage to let Mrs. Travers slip through he whispered to +her, "This is the hour of fate." + +She brushed past him swiftly without the slightest sign that she +had heard the words. On the after deck between the Cage and the +deckhouse Lingard waited, lantern in hand. Nobody else was +visible about; but d'Alcacer felt in the air the presence of +silent and excited beings hovering outside the circle of light. +Lingard raised the lantern as Mrs. Travers approached and +d'Alcacer heard him say: + +"I have had news which you ought to know. Let us go into the +deckhouse." + +D'Alcacer saw their heads lighted up by the raised lantern +surrounded by the depths of shadow with an effect of a marvellous +and symbolic vision. He heard Mrs. Travers say "I would rather +not hear your news," in a tone that made that sensitive observer +purse up his lips in wonder. He thought that she was +over-wrought, that the situation had grown too much for her +nerves. But this was not the tone of a frightened person. It +flashed through his mind that she had become self-conscious, and +there he stopped in his speculation. That friend of women +remained discreet even in his thoughts. He stepped backward +further into the Cage and without surprise saw Mrs. Travers +follow Lingard into the deckhouse. + + + +IV + +Lingard stood the lantern on the table. Its light was very poor. +He dropped on to the sea-chest heavily. He, too, was +over-wrought. His flannel shirt was open at the neck. He had a +broad belt round his waist and was without his jacket. Before +him, Mrs. Travers, straight and tall in the gay silks, cottons, +and muslins of her outlandish dress, with the ends of the scarf +thrown over her head, hanging down in front of her, looked dimly +splendid and with a black glance out of her white face. He said: + +"Do you, too, want to throw me over? I tell you you can't do that +now." + +"I wasn't thinking of throwing you over, but I don't even know +what you mean. There seem to be no end of things I can't do. +Hadn't you better tell me of something that I could do? Have you +any idea yourself what you want from me?" + +"You can let me look at you. You can listen to me. You can speak +to me." + +"Frankly, I have never shirked doing all those things, whenever +you wanted me to. You have led me . . ." + +"I led you!" cried Lingard. + +"Oh! It was my fault," she said, without anger. "I must have +dreamed then that it was you who came to me in the dark with the +tale of your impossible life. Could I have sent you away?" + +"I wish you had. Why didn't you?" + +"Do you want me to tell you that you were irresistible? How could +I have sent you away? But you! What made you come back to me with +your very heart on your lips?" + +When Lingard spoke after a time it was in jerky sentences. + +"I didn't stop to think. I had been hurt. I didn't think of you +people as ladies and gentlemen. I thought of you as people whose +lives I held in my hand. How was it possible to forget you in my +trouble? It is your face that I brought back with me on board my +brig. I don't know why. I didn't look at you more than at anybody +else. It took me all my time to keep my temper down lest it +should burn you all up. I didn't want to be rude to you people, +but I found it wasn't very easy because threats were the only +argument I had. Was I very offensive, Mrs. Travers?" + +She had listened tense and very attentive, almost stern. And it +was without the slightest change of expression that she said: + +"I think that you bore yourself appropriately to the state of +life to which it has pleased God to call you." + +"What state?" muttered Lingard to himself. "I am what I am. They +call me Rajah Laut, King Tom, and such like. I think it amused +you to hear it, but I can tell you it is no joke to have such +names fastened on one, even in fun. And those very names have in +them something which makes all this affair here no small matter +to anybody." + +She stood before him with a set, severe face.--"Did you call me +out in this alarming manner only to quarrel with me?"--"No, but +why do you choose this time to tell me that my coming for help to +you was nothing but impudence in your sight? Well, I beg your +pardon for intruding on your dignity."--"You misunderstood me," +said Mrs. Travers, without relaxing for a moment her +contemplative severity. "Such a flattering thing had never +happened to me before and it will never happen to me again. But +believe me, King Tom, you did me too much honour. Jorgenson is +perfectly right in being angry with you for having taken a woman +in tow."--"He didn't mean to be rude," protested Lingard, +earnestly. Mrs. Travers didn't even smile at this intrusion of a +point of manners into the atmosphere of anguish and suspense that +seemed always to arise between her and this man who, sitting on +the sea-chest, had raised his eyes to her with an air of extreme +candour and seemed unable to take them off again. She continued +to look at him sternly by a tremendous effort of will. + +"How changed you are," he murmured. + +He was lost in the depths of the simplest wonder. She appeared to +him vengeful and as if turned forever into stone before his +bewildered remorse. Forever. Suddenly Mrs. Travers looked round +and sat down in the chair. Her strength failed her but she +remained austere with her hands resting on the arms of her seat. +Lingard sighed deeply and dropped his eyes. She did not dare +relax her muscles for fear of breaking down altogether and +betraying a reckless impulse which lurked at the bottom of her +dismay, to seize the head of d'Alcacer's Man of Fate, press it to +her breast once, fling it far away, and vanish herself, vanish +out of life like a wraith. The Man of Fate sat silent and bowed, +yet with a suggestion of strength in his dejection. "If I don't +speak," Mrs. Travers said to herself, with great inward calmness, +"I shall burst into tears." She said aloud, "What could have +happened? What have you dragged me in here for? Why don't you +tell me your news?" + +"I thought you didn't want to hear. I believe you really don't +want to. What is all this to you? I believe that you don't care +anything about what I feel, about what I do and how I end. I +verily believe that you don't care how you end yourself. I +believe you never cared for your own or anybody's feelings. I +don't think it is because you are hard, I think it is because you +don't know, and don't want to know, and are angry with life." + +He flourished an arm recklessly, and Mrs. Travers noticed for the +first time that he held a sheet of paper in his hand. + +"Is that your news there?" she asked, significantly. "It's +difficult to imagine that in this wilderness writing can have any +significance. And who on earth here could send you news on paper? +Will you let me see it? Could I understand it? Is it in English? +Come, King Tom, don't look at me in this awful way." + +She got up suddenly, not in indignation, but as if at the end of +her endurance. The jewelled clasps, the gold embroideries, +gleamed elusively amongst the folds of her draperies which +emitted a mysterious rustle. + +"I can't stand this," she cried. "I can't stand being looked at +like this. No woman could stand it. No woman has ever been looked +at like this. What can you see? Hatred I could understand. What +is it you think me capable of?" + +"You are very extraordinary," murmured Lingard, who had regained +his self-possession before that outburst. + +"Very well, and you are extraordinary, too. That's +understood--here we are both under that curse and having to face +together whatever may turn up. But who on earth could have sent +you this writing?" + +"Who?" repeated Lingard. "Why, that young fellow that blundered +on my brig in the dark, bringing a boatload of trouble alongside +on that quiet night in Carimata Straits. The darkest night I have +ever known. An accursed night." + +Mrs. Travers bit her lip, waited a little, then asked quietly: + +"What difficulty has he got into now?" + +"Difficulty!" cried Lingard. "He is immensely pleased with +himself, the young fool. You know, when you sent him to talk to +me that evening you left the yacht, he came with a loaded pistol +in his pocket. And now he has gone and done it." + +"Done it?" repeated Mrs. Travers blankly. "Done what?" + +She snatched from Lingard's unresisting palm the sheet of paper. +While she was smoothing it Lingard moved round and stood close at +her elbow. She ran quickly over the first lines, then her eyes +steadied. At the end she drew a quick breath and looked up at +Lingard. Their faces had never been so close together before and +Mrs. Travers had a surprising second of a perfectly new +sensation. She looked away.--"Do you understand what this news +means?" he murmured. Mrs. Travers let her hand fall by her side. +"Yes," she said in a low tone. "The compact is broken." + +Carter had begun his letter without any preliminaries: + +You cleared out in the middle of the night and took the lady away +with you. You left me no proper orders. But as a sailorman I +looked upon myself as left in charge of two ships while within +half a mile on that sandbank there were more than a hundred +piratical cut-throats watching me as closely as so many tigers +about to leap. Days went by without a word of you or the lady. To +leave the ships outside and go inland to look for you was not to +be thought of with all those pirates within springing distance. +Put yourself in my place. Can't you imagine my anxiety, my +sleepless nights? Each night worse than the night before. And +still no word from you. I couldn't sit still and worry my head +off about things I couldn't understand. I am a sailorman. My +first duty was to the ships. I had to put an end to this +impossible situation and I hope you will agree that I have done +it in a seamanlike way. One misty morning I moved the brig nearer +the sandbank and directly the mist cleared I opened fire on the +praus of those savages which were anchored in the channel. We +aimed wide at first to give those vagabonds that were on board a +chance to clear out and join their friends camped on the sands. I +didn't want to kill people. Then we got the long gun to bear and +in about an hour we had the bottom knocked out of the two praus. +The savages on the bank howled and screamed at every shot. They +are mighty angry but I don't care for their anger now, for by +sinking their praus I have made them as harmless as a flock of +lambs. They needn't starve on their sandbank because they have +two or three dugouts hauled up on the sand and they may ferry +themselves and their women to the mainland whenever they like. + +I fancy I have acted as a seaman and as a seaman I intend to go +on acting. Now I have made the ships safe I shall set about +without loss of time trying to get the yacht off the mud. When +that's done I shall arm the boats and proceed inshore to look for +you and the yacht's gentry, and shan't rest till I know whether +any or all of you are above the earth yet. + +I hope these words will reach you. Just as we had done the +business of those praus the man you sent off that night in +Carimata to stop our chief officer came sailing in from the west +with our first gig in tow and the boat's crew all well. Your +serang tells me he is a most trustworthy messenger and that his +name is Jaffir. He seems only too anxious to try to get to you as +soon as possible. I repeat, ships and men have been made safe and +I don't mean to give you up dead or alive. + +"You are quick in taking the point," said Lingard in a dull +voice, while Mrs. Travers, with the sheet of paper gripped in her +hand, looked into his face with anxious eyes. "He has been smart +and no mistake." + +"He didn't know," murmured Mrs. Travers. + +"No, he didn't know. But could I take everybody into my +confidence?" protested Lingard in the same low tone. "And yet who +else could I trust? It seemed to me that he must have understood +without being told. But he is too young. He may well be proud +according to his lights. He has done that job outside very +smartly--damn his smartness! And here we are with all our lives +depending on my word--which is broken now, Mrs. Travers. It is +broken." + +Mrs. Travers nodded at him slightly. + +"They would sooner have expected to see the sun and the moon fall +out of the sky," Lingard continued with repressed fire. Next +moment it seemed to have gone out of him and Mrs. Travers heard +him mutter a disconnected phrase. . . . "The world down about my +ears." + +"What will you do?" she whispered. + +"What will I do?" repeated Lingard, gently. "Oh, yes--do. Mrs. +Travers, do you see that I am nothing now? Just nothing." + +He had lost himself in the contemplation of her face turned to +him with an expression of awed curiosity. The shock of the world +coming down about his ears in consequence of Carter's smartness +was so terrific that it had dulled his sensibilities in the +manner of a great pain or of a great catastrophe. What was there +to look at but that woman's face, in a world which had lost its +consistency, its shape, and its promises in a moment? + +Mrs. Travers looked away. She understood that she had put to +Lingard an impossible question. What was presenting itself to her +as a problem was to that man a crisis of feeling. Obviously +Carter's action had broken the compact entered into with Daman, +and she was intelligent enough to understand that it was the sort +of thing that could not be explained away. It wasn't horror that +she felt, but a sort of consternation, something like the +discomfiture of people who have just missed their train. It was +only more intense. The real dismay had yet to make its way into +her comprehension. To Lingard it was a blow struck straight at +his heart. + +He was not angry with Carter. The fellow had acted like a seaman. +Carter's concern was for the ships. In this fatality Carter was a +mere incident. The real cause of the disaster was somewhere else, +was other, and more remote. And at the same time Lingard could +not defend himself from a feeling that it was in himself, too, +somewhere in the unexplored depths of his nature, something fatal +and unavoidable. He muttered to himself: + +"No. I am not a lucky man." + +This was but a feeble expression of the discovery of the truth +that suddenly had come home to him as if driven into his breast +by a revealing power which had decided that this was to be the +end of his fling. But he was not the man to give himself up to +the examination of his own sensations. His natural impulse was to +grapple with the circumstances and that was what he was trying to +do; but he missed now that sense of mastery which is half the +battle. Conflict of some sort was the very essence of his life. +But this was something he had never known before. This was a +conflict within himself. He had to face unsuspected powers, foes +that he could not go out to meet at the gate. They were within, +as though he had been betrayed by somebody, by some secret enemy. +He was ready to look round for that subtle traitor. A sort of +blankness fell on his mind and he suddenly thought: "Why! It's +myself." + +Immediately afterward he had a clear, merciless recollection of +Hassim and Immada. He saw them far off beyond the forests. Oh, +yes, they existed--within his breast! + +"That was a night!" he muttered, looking straight at Mrs. +Travers. He had been looking at her all the time. His glance had +held her under a spell, but for a whole interminable minute he +had not been aware of her at all. At the murmur of his words she +made a slight movement and he saw her again.--"What night?" she +whispered, timidly, like an intruder. She was astonished to see +him smile.--"Not like this one," he said. "You made me notice how +quiet and still it was. Yes. Listen how still it is." + +Both moved their heads slightly and seemed to lend an ear. There +was not a murmur, sigh, rustle, splash, or footfall. No whispers, +no tremors, not a sound of any kind. They might have been alone +on board the Emma, abandoned even by the ghost of Captain +Jorgenson departed to rejoin the Barque Wild Rose on the shore of +the Cimmerian sea.--"It's like the stillness of the end," said +Mrs. Travers in a low, equable voice.--"Yes, but that, too, is +false," said Lingard in the same tone.--"I don't understand," +Mrs. Travers began, hurriedly, after a short silence. "But don't +use that word. Don't use it, King Tom! It frightens me by its +mere sound." + +Lingard made no sign. His thoughts were back with Hassim and +Immada. The young chief and his sister had gone up country on a +voluntary mission to persuade Belarab to return to his stockade +and to take up again the direction of affairs. They carried +urgent messages from Lingard, who for Belarab was the very +embodiment of truth and force, that unquestioned force which had +permitted Belarab to indulge in all his melancholy hesitations. +But those two young people had also some personal prestige. They +were Lingard's heart's friends. They were like his children. But +beside that, their high birth, their warlike story, their +wanderings, adventures, and prospects had given them a glamour of +their own. + + + +V + +The very day that Travers and d'Alcacer had come on board the +Emma Hassim and Immada had departed on their mission; for +Lingard, of course, could not think of leaving the white people +alone with Jorgenson. Jorgenson was all right, but his +ineradicable habit of muttering in his moustache about "throwing +a lighted match amongst the powder barrels" had inspired Lingard +with a certain amount of mistrust. And, moreover, he did not want +to go away from Mrs. Travers. + +It was the only correct inspiration on Carter's part to send +Jaffir with his report to Lingard. That stout-hearted fighter, +swimmer, and devoted follower of the princely misfortunes of +Hassim and Immada, had looked upon his mission to catch the chief +officer of the yacht (which he had received from Lingard in +Carimata) as a trifling job. It took him a little longer than he +expected but he had got back to the brig just in time to be sent +on to Lingard with Carter's letter after a couple of hours' rest. +He had the story of all the happenings from Wasub before he left +and though his face preserved its grave impassivity, in his heart +he did not like it at all. + +Fearless and wily, Jaffir was the man for difficult missions and +a born messenger--as he expressed it himself--"to bear weighty +words between great men." With his unfailing memory he was able +to reproduce them exactly, whether soft or hard, in council or in +private; for he knew no fear. With him there was no need for +writing which might fall into the hands of the enemy. If he died +on the way the message would die with him. He had also the gift +of getting at the sense of any situation and an observant eye. He +was distinctly one of those men from whom trustworthy information +can be obtained by the leaders of great enterprises. Lingard did +put several questions to him, but in this instance, of course, +Jaffir could have only very little to say. Of Carter, whom he +called the "young one," he said that he looked as white men look +when they are pleased with themselves; then added without waiting +for a definite question--"The ships out there are now safe +enough, O, Rajah Laut!" There was no elation in his tone. + +Lingard looked at him blankly. When the Greatest of White Men +remarked that there was yet a price to be paid for that safety, +Jaffir assented by a "Yes, by Allah!" without losing for a moment +his grim composure. When told that he would be required to go and +find his master and the lady Immada who were somewhere in the +back country, in Belarab's travelling camp, he declared himself +ready to proceed at once. He had eaten his fill and had slept +three hours on board the brig and he was not tired. When he was +young he used to get tired sometimes; but for many years now he +had known no such weakness. He did not require the boat with +paddlers in which he had come up into the lagoon. He would go +alone in a small canoe. This was no time, he remarked, for +publicity and ostentation. His pent-up anxiety burst through his +lips. "It is in my mind, Tuan, that death has not been so near +them since that night when you came sailing in a black cloud and +took us all out of the stockade." + +Lingard said nothing but there was in Jaffir a faith in that +white man which was not easily shaken. + +"How are you going to save them this time, O Rajah Laut?" he +asked, simply. + +"Belarab is my friend," murmured Lingard. + +In his anxiety Jaffir was very outspoken. "A man of peace!" he +exclaimed in a low tone. "Who could be safe with a man like +that?" he asked, contemptuously. + +"There is no war," said Lingard + +"There is suspicion, dread, and revenge, and the anger of armed +men," retorted Jaffir. "You have taken the white prisoners out of +their hands by the force of your words alone. Is that so, Tuan?" + +"Yes," said Lingard. + +"And you have them on board here?" asked Jaffir, with a glance +over his shoulder at the white and misty structure within which +by the light of a small oil flame d'Alcacer and Mrs. Travers were +just then conversing. + +"Yes, I have them here." + +"Then, Rajah Laut," whispered Jaffir, "you can make all safe by +giving them back." + +"Can I do that?" were the words breathed out through Lingard's +lips to the faithful follower of Hassim and Immada. + +"Can you do anything else?" was the whispered retort of Jaffir +the messenger accustomed to speak frankly to the great of the +earth. "You are a white man and you can have only one word. And +now I go." + +A small, rough dug-out belonging to the Emma had been brought +round to the ladder. A shadowy calash hovering respectfully in +the darkness of the deck had already cleared his throat twice in +a warning manner. + +"Yes, Jaffir, go," said Lingard, "and be my friend." + +"I am the friend of a great prince," said the other, sturdily. +"But you, Rajah Laut, were even greater. And great you will +remain while you are with us, people of this sea and of this +land. But what becomes of the strength of your arms before your +own white people? Where does it go to, I say? Well, then, we must +trust in the strength of your heart." + +"I hope that will never fail," said Lingard, and Jaffir emitted a +grunt of satisfaction. "But God alone sees into men's hearts." + +"Yes. Our refuge is with Allah," assented Jaffir, who had +acquired the habit of pious turns of speech in the frequentation +of professedly religious men, of whom there were many in +Belarab's stockade. As a matter of fact, he reposed all his trust +in Lingard who had with him the prestige of a providential man +sent at the hour of need by heaven itself. He waited a while, +then: "What is the message I am to take?" he asked. + +"Tell the whole tale to the Rajah Hassim," said Lingard. "And +tell him to make his way here with the lady his sister secretly +and with speed. The time of great trouble has come. Let us, at +least, be together." + +"Right! Right!" Jaffir approved, heartily. "To die alone under +the weight of one's enemies is a dreadful fate." + +He stepped back out of the sheen of the lamp by which they had +been talking and making his way down into the small canoe he took +up a paddle and without a splash vanished on the dark lagoon. + +It was then that Mrs. Travers and d'Alcacer heard Lingard call +aloud for Jorgenson. Instantly the familiar shadow stood at +Lingard's elbow and listened in detached silence. Only at the end +of the tale it marvelled audibly: "Here's a mess for you if you +like." But really nothing in the world could astonish or startle +old Jorgenson. He turned away muttering in his moustache. Lingard +remained with his chin in his hand and Jaffir's last words took +gradual possession of his mind. Then brusquely he picked up the +lamp and went to seek Mrs. Travers. He went to seek her because +he actually needed her bodily presence, the sound of her voice, +the dark, clear glance of her eyes. She could do nothing for him. +On his way he became aware that Jorgenson had turned out the few +Malays on board the Emma and was disposing them about the decks +to watch the lagoon in all directions. On calling Mrs. Travers +out of the Cage Lingard was, in the midst of his mental struggle, +conscious of a certain satisfaction in taking her away from +d'Alcacer. He couldn't spare any of her attention to any other +man, not the least crumb of her time, not the least particle of +her thought! He needed it all. To see it withdrawn from him for +the merest instant was irritating--seemed a disaster. + +D'Alcacer, left alone, wondered at the imperious tone of +Lingard's call. To this observer of shades the fact seemed +considerable. "Sheer nerves," he concluded, to himself. "The man +is overstrung. He must have had some sort of shock." But what +could it be--he wondered to himself. In the tense stagnation of +those days of waiting the slightest tremor had an enormous +importance. D'Alcacer did not seek his camp bedstead. He didn't +even sit down. With the palms of his hands against the edge of +the table he leaned back against it. In that negligent attitude +he preserved an alert mind which for a moment wondered whether +Mrs. Travers had not spoiled Lingard a little. Yet in the +suddenness of the forced association, where, too, d'Alcacer was +sure there was some moral problem in the background, he +recognized the extreme difficulty of weighing accurately the +imperious demands against the necessary reservations, the exact +proportions of boldness and caution. And d'Alcacer admired upon +the whole Mrs. Travers' cleverness. + +There could be no doubt that she had the situation in her hands. +That, of course, did not mean safety. She had it in her hands as +one may hold some highly explosive and uncertain compound. +D'Alcacer thought of her with profound sympathy and with a quite +unselfish interest. Sometimes in a street we cross the path of +personalities compelling sympathy and wonder but for all that we +don't follow them home. D'Alcacer refrained from following Mrs. +Travers any further. He had become suddenly aware that Mr. +Travers was sitting up on his camp bedstead. He must have done it +very suddenly. Only a moment before he had appeared plunged in +the deepest slumber, and the stillness for a long time now had +been perfectly unbroken. D'Alcacer was startled enough for an +exclamation and Mr. Travers turned his head slowly in his +direction. D'Alcacer approached the bedstead with a certain +reluctance. + +"Awake?" he said. + +"A sudden chill," said Mr. Travers. "But I don't feel cold now. +Strange! I had the impression of an icy blast." + +"Ah!" said d'Alcacer. + +"Impossible, of course!" went on Mr. Travers. "This stagnating +air never moves. It clings odiously to one. What time is it?" + +"Really, I don't know." + +"The glass of my watch was smashed on that night when we were so +treacherously assailed by the savages on the sandbank," grumbled +Mr. Travers. + +"I must say I was never so surprised in my life," confessed +d'Alcacer. "We had stopped and I was lighting a cigar, you may +remember." + +"No," said Mr. Travers. "I had just then pulled out my watch. Of +course it flew out of my hand but it hung by the chain. Somebody +trampled on it. The hands are broken off short. It keeps on +ticking but I can't tell the time. It's absurd. Most provoking." + +"Do you mean to say," asked d'Alcacer, "that you have been +winding it up every evening?" + +Mr. Travers looked up from his bedstead and he also seemed +surprised. "Why! I suppose I have." He kept silent for a while. +"It isn't so much blind habit as you may think. My habits are the +outcome of strict method. I had to order my life methodically. +You know very well, my dear d'Alcacer, that without strict method +I would not have been able to get through my work and would have +had no time at all for social duties, which, of course, are of +very great importance. I may say that, materially, method has +been the foundation of my success in public life. There were +never any empty moments in my day. And now this! . . ." He +looked all round the Cage. . . . "Where's my wife?" he asked. + +"I was talking to her only a moment ago," answered d'Alcacer. "I +don't know the time. My watch is on board the yacht; but it isn't +late, you know." + +Mr. Travers flung off with unwonted briskness the light cotton +sheet which covered him. He buttoned hastily the tunic which he +had unfastened before lying down, and just as d'Alcacer was +expecting him to swing his feet to the deck impetuously, he lay +down again on the pillow and remained perfectly still. + +D'Alcacer waited awhile and then began to pace the Cage. After a +couple of turns he stopped and said, gently: + +"I am afraid, Travers, you are not very well." + +"I don't know what illness is," answered the voice from the +pillow to the great relief of d'Alcacer who really had not +expected an answer. "Good health is a great asset in public life. +Illness may make you miss a unique opportunity. I was never ill." + +All this came out deadened in tone, as if the speaker's face had +been buried in the pillow. D'Alcacer resumed his pacing. + +"I think I asked you where my wife was," said the muffled voice. + +With great presence of mind d'Alcacer kept on pacing the Cage as +if he had not heard.--"You know, I think she is mad," went on the +muffled voice. "Unless I am." + +Again d'Alcacer managed not to interrupt his regular pacing. "Do +you know what I think?" he said, abruptly. "I think, Travers, +that you don't want to talk about her. I think that you don't +want to talk about anything. And to tell you the truth I don't +want to, either." + +D'Alcacer caught a faint sigh from the pillow and at the same +time saw a small, dim flame appear outside the Cage. And still he +kept on his pacing. Mrs. Travers and Lingard coming out of the +deckhouse stopped just outside the door and Lingard stood the +deck-lamp on its roof. They were too far from d'Alcacer to be +heard, but he could make them out: Mrs. Travers, as straight as +an arrow, and the heavy bulk of the man who faced her with a +lowered head. He saw it in profile against the light and as if +deferential in its slight droop. They were looking straight at +each other. Neither of them made the slightest gesture. + +"There is that in me," Lingard murmured, deeply, "which would set +my heart harder than a stone. I am King Tom, Rajah Laut, and fit +to look any man hereabouts in the face. I have my name to take +care of. Everything rests on that." + +"Mr. d'Alcacer would express this by saying that everything +rested on honour," commented Mrs. Travers with lips that did not +tremble, though from time to time she could feel the accelerated +beating of her heart. + +"Call it what you like. It's something that a man needs to draw a +free breath. And look!--as you see me standing before you here I +care for it no longer." + +"But I do care for it," retorted Mrs. Travers. "As you see me +standing here--I do care. This is something that is your very +own. You have a right to it. And I repeat I do care for it." + +"Care for something of my own," murmured Lingard, very close to +her face. "Why should you care for my rights?" + +"Because," she said, holding her ground though their foreheads +were nearly touching, "because if I ever get back to my life I +don't want to make it more absurd by real remorse." + +Her tone was soft and Lingard received the breath of those words +like a caress on his face. D'Alcacer, in the Cage, made still +another effort to keep up his pacing. He didn't want to give Mr. +Travers the slightest excuse for sitting up again and looking +round. + +"That I should live to hear anybody say they cared anything for +what was mine!" whispered Lingard. "And that it should be +you--you, who have taken all hardness out of me." + +"I don't want your heart to be made hard. I want it to be made +firm." + +"You couldn't have said anything better than what you have said +just now to make it steady," flowed the murmur of Lingard's voice +with something tender in its depth. "Has anybody ever had a +friend like this?" he exclaimed, raising his head as if taking +the starry night to witness. + +"And I ask myself is it possible that there should be another man +on earth that I could trust as I trust you. I say to you: Yes! Go +and save what you have a right to and don't forget to be +merciful. I will not remind you of our perfect innocence. The +earth must be small indeed that we should have blundered like +this into your life. It's enough to make one believe in fatality. +But I can't find it in me to behave like a fatalist, to sit down +with folded hands. Had you been another kind of man I might have +been too hopeless or too disdainful. Do you know what Mr. +d'Alcacer calls you?" + +Inside the Cage d'Alcacer, casting curious glances in their +direction, saw Lingard shake his head and thought with slight +uneasiness: "He is refusing her something." + +"Mr. d'Alcacer's name for you is the 'Man of Fate'," said Mrs. +Travers, a little breathlessly. + +"A mouthful. Never mind, he is a gentleman. It's what you. . . ." + +"I call you all but by your Christian name," said Mrs. Travers, +hastily. "Believe me, Mr. d'Alcacer understands you." + +"He is all right," interjected Lingard. + +"And he is innocent. I remember what you have said--that the +innocent must take their chance. Well, then, do what is right." + +"You think it would be right? You believe it? You feel it?" + +"At this time, in this place, from a man like you--Yes, it is +right." + +Lingard thought that woman wonderfully true to him and +wonderfully fearless with herself. The necessity to take back the +two captives to the stockade was so clear and unavoidable now, +that he believed nothing on earth could have stopped him from +doing so, but where was there another woman in the world who +would have taken it like this? And he reflected that in truth and +courage there is found wisdom. It seemed to him that till Mrs. +Travers came to stand by his side he had never known what truth +and courage and wisdom were. With his eyes on her face and having +been told that in her eyes he appeared worthy of being both +commanded and entreated, he felt an instant of complete content, +a moment of, as it were, perfect emotional repose. + +During the silence Mrs. Travers with a quick sideglance noticed +d'Alcacer as one sees a man in a mist, his mere dark shape +arrested close to the muslin screen. She had no doubt that he was +looking in their direction and that he could see them much more +plainly than she could see him. Mrs. Travers thought suddenly how +anxious he must be; and she remembered that he had begged her for +some sign, for some warning, beforehand, at the moment of crisis. +She had understood very well his hinted request for time to get +prepared. If he was to get more than a few minutes, THIS was the +moment to make him a sign--the sign he had suggested himself. +Mrs. Travers moved back the least bit so as to let the light fall +in front of her and with a slow, distinct movement she put her +left hand to her forehead. + +"Well, then," she heard Lingard's forcible murmur, "well, then, +Mrs. Travers, it must be done to-night." + +One may be true, fearless, and wise, and yet catch one's breath +before the simple finality of action. Mrs. Travers caught her +breath: "To-night! To-night!" she whispered. D'Alcacer's dark and +misty silhouette became more blurred. He had seen her sign and +had retreated deeper within the Cage. + +"Yes, to-night," affirmed Lingard. "Now, at once, within the +hour, this moment," he murmured, fiercely, following Mrs. Travers +in her recoiling movement. She felt her arm being seized swiftly. +"Don't you see that if it is to do any good, that if they are not +to be delivered to mere slaughter, it must be done while all is +dark ashore, before an armed mob in boats comes clamouring +alongside? Yes. Before the night is an hour older, so that I may +be hammering at Belarab's gate while all the Settlement is still +asleep." + +Mrs. Travers didn't dream of protesting. For the moment she was +unable to speak. This man was very fierce and just as suddenly as +it had been gripped (making her think incongruously in the midst +of her agitation that there would be certainly a bruise there in +the morning) she felt her arm released and a penitential tone +come into Lingard's murmuring voice. + +"And even now it's nearly too late! The road was plain, but I saw +you on it and my heart failed me. I was there like an empty man +and I dared not face you. You must forgive me. No, I had no right +to doubt you for a moment. I feel as if I ought to go on my knees +and beg your pardon for forgetting what you are, for daring to +forget." + +"Why, King Tom, what is it?" + +"It seems as if I had sinned," she heard him say. He seized her +by the shoulders, turned her about, moved her forward a step or +two. His hands were heavy, his force irresistible, though he +himself imagined he was handling her gently. "Look straight +before you," he growled into her ear. "Do you see anything?" Mrs. +Travers, passive between the rigid arms, could see nothing but, +far off, the massed, featureless shadows of the shore. + +"No, I see nothing," she said. + +"You can't be looking the right way," she heard him behind her. +And now she felt her head between Lingard's hands. He moved it +the least bit to the right. "There! See it?" + +"No. What am I to look for?" + +"A gleam of light," said Lingard, taking away his hands suddenly. +"A gleam that will grow into a blaze before our boat can get half +way across the lagoon." + +Even as Lingard spoke Mrs. Travers caught sight of a red spark +far away. She had looked often enough at the Settlement, as on +the face of a painting on a curtain, to have its configuration +fixed in her mind, to know that it was on the beach at its end +furthest from Belarab's stockade. + +"The brushwood is catching," murmured Lingard in her ear. "If +they had some dry grass the whole pile would be blazing by now." + +"And this means. . . ." + +"It means that the news has spread. And it is before Tengga's +enclosure on his end of the beach. That's where all the brains of +the Settlement are. It means talk and excitement and plenty of +crafty words. Tengga's fire! I tell you, Mrs. Travers, that +before half an hour has passed Daman will be there to make +friends with the fat Tengga, who is ready to say to him, 'I told +you so'." + +"I see," murmured Mrs. Travers. Lingard drew her gently to the +rail. + +"And now look over there at the other end of the beach where the +shadows are heaviest. That is Belarab's fort, his houses, his +treasure, his dependents. That's where the strength of the +Settlement is. I kept it up. I made it last. But what is it now? +It's like a weapon in the hand of a dead man. And yet it's all we +have to look to, if indeed there is still time. I swear to you I +wouldn't dare land them in daylight for fear they should be +slaughtered on the beach." + +"There is no time to lose," whispered Mrs. Travers, and Lingard, +too, spoke very low. + +"No, not if I, too, am to keep what is my right. It's you who +have said it." + +"Yes, I have said it," she whispered, without lifting her head. +Lingard made a brusque movement at her elbow and bent his head +close to her shoulder. + +"And I who mistrusted you! Like Arabs do to their great men, I +ought to kiss the hem of your robe in repentance for having +doubted the greatness of your heart." + +"Oh! my heart!" said Mrs. Travers, lightly, still gazing at the +fire, which had suddenly shot up to a tall blaze. "I can assure +you it has been of very little account in the world." She paused +for a moment to steady her voice, then said, firmly, "Let's get +this over." + +"To tell you the truth the boat has been ready for some time." + +"Well, then. . . ." + +"Mrs. Travers," said Lingard with an effort, "they are people of +your own kind." And suddenly he burst out: "I cannot take them +ashore bound hand and foot." + +"Mr. d'Alcacer knows. You will find him ready. Ever since the +beginning he has been prepared for whatever might happen." + +"He is a man," said Lingard with conviction. "But it's of the +other that I am thinking." + +"Ah, the other," she repeated. "Then, what about my thoughts? +Luckily we have Mr. d'Alcacer. I shall speak to him first." + +She turned away from the rail and moved toward the Cage. + +"Jorgenson," the voice of Lingard resounded all along the deck, +"get a light on the gangway." Then he followed Mrs. Travers +slowly. + + + +VI + +D'Alcacer, after receiving his warning, stepped back and leaned +against the edge of the table. He could not ignore in himself a +certain emotion. And indeed, when he had asked Mrs. Travers for a +sign he expected to be moved--but he had not expected the sign to +come so soon. He expected this night to pass like other nights, +in broken slumbers, bodily discomfort, and the unrest of +disconnected thinking. At the same time he was surprised at his +own emotion. He had flattered himself on the possession of more +philosophy. He thought that this famous sense of +self-preservation was a queer thing, a purely animal thing. "For, +as a thinking man," he reflected, "I really ought not to care." +It was probably the unusual that affected him. Clearly. If he had +been lying seriously ill in a room in a hotel and had overheard +some ominous whispers he would not have cared in the least. Ah, +but then he would have been ill--and in illness one grows so +indifferent. Illness is a great help to unemotional behaviour, +which of course is the correct behaviour for a man of the world. +He almost regretted he was not very ill. But, then, Mr. Travers +was obviously ill and it did not seem to help him much. D'Alcacer +glanced at the bedstead where Mr. Travers preserved an immobility +which struck d'Alcacer as obviously affected. He mistrusted it. +Generally he mistrusted Mr. Travers. One couldn't tell what he +would do next. Not that he could do much one way or another, but +that somehow he threatened to rob the situation of whatever +dignity it may have had as a stroke of fate, as a call on +courage. Mr. d'Alcacer, acutely observant and alert for the +slightest hints, preferred to look upon himself as the victim not +of a swindle but of a rough man naively engaged in a contest with +heaven's injustice. D'Alcacer did not examine his heart, but some +lines of a French poet came into his mind, to the effect that in +all times those who fought with an unjust heaven had possessed +the secret admiration and love of men. He didn't go so far as +love but he could not deny to himself that his feeling toward +Lingard was secretly friendly and--well, appreciative. Mr. +Travers sat up suddenly. What a horrible nuisance, thought +d'Alcacer, fixing his eyes on the tips of his shoes with the hope +that perhaps the other would lie down again. Mr. Travers spoke. + +"Still up, d'Alcacer?" + +"I assure you it isn't late. It's dark at six, we dined before +seven, that makes the night long and I am not a very good +sleeper; that is, I cannot go to sleep till late in the night." + +"I envy you," said Mr. Travers, speaking with a sort of drowsy +apathy. "I am always dropping off and the awakenings are +horrible." + +D'Alcacer, raising his eyes, noticed that Mrs. Travers and +Lingard had vanished from the light. They had gone to the rail +where d'Alcacer could not see them. Some pity mingled with his +vexation at Mr. Travers' snatchy wakefulness. There was something +weird about the man, he reflected. "Jorgenson," he began aloud. + +"What's that?" snapped Mr. Travers. + +"It's the name of that lanky old store-keeper who is always about +the decks." + +"I haven't seen him. I don't see anybody. I don't know anybody. I +prefer not to notice." + +"I was only going to say that he gave me a pack of cards; would +you like a game of piquet?" + +"I don't think I could keep my eyes open," said Mr. Travers in an +unexpectedly confidential tone. "Isn't it funny, d'Alcacer? And +then I wake up. It's too awful." + +D'Alcacer made no remark and Mr. Travers seemed not to have +expected any. + +"When I said my wife was mad," he began, suddenly, causing +d'Alcacer to start, "I didn't mean it literally, of course." His +tone sounded slightly dogmatic and he didn't seem to be aware of +any interval during which he had appeared to sleep. D'Alcacer was +convinced more than ever that he had been shamming, and resigned +himself wearily to listen, folding his arms across his chest. +"What I meant, really," continued Mr. Travers, "was that she is +the victim of a craze. Society is subject to crazes, as you know +very well. They are not reprehensible in themselves, but the +worst of my wife is that her crazes are never like those of the +people with whom she naturally associates. They generally run +counter to them. This peculiarity has given me some anxiety, you +understand, in the position we occupy. People will begin to say +that she is eccentric. Do you see her anywhere, d'Alcacer?" + +D'Alcacer was thankful to be able to say that he didn't see Mrs. +Travers. He didn't even hear any murmurs, though he had no doubt +that everybody on board the Emma was wide awake by now. But Mr. +Travers inspired him with invincible mistrust and he thought it +prudent to add: + +"You forget that your wife has a room in the deckhouse." + +This was as far as he would go, for he knew very well that she +was not in the deckhouse. Mr. Travers, completely convinced by +the statement, made no sound. But neither did he lie down again. +D'Alcacer gave himself up to meditation. The night seemed +extremely oppressive. At Lingard's shout for Jorgenson, that in +the profound silence struck his ears ominously, he raised his +eyes and saw Mrs. Travers outside the door of the Cage. He +started forward but she was already within. He saw she was moved. +She seemed out of breath and as if unable to speak at first. + +"Hadn't we better shut the door?" suggested d'Alcacer. + +"Captain Lingard's coming in," she whispered to him. "He has made +up his mind." + +"That's an excellent thing," commented d'Alcacer, quietly. "I +conclude from this that we shall hear something." + +"You shall hear it all from me," breathed out Mrs. Travers. + +"Ah!" exclaimed d'Alcacer very low. + +By that time Lingard had entered, too, and the decks of the Emma +were all astir with moving figures. Jorgenson's voice was also +heard giving directions. For nearly a minute the four persons +within the Cage remained motionless. A shadowy Malay in the +gangway said suddenly: "Sudah, Tuan," and Lingard murmured, +"Ready, Mrs. Travers." + +She seized d'Alcacer's arm and led him to the side of the Cage +furthest from the corner in which Mr. Travers' bed was placed, +while Lingard busied himself in pricking up the wick of the Cage +lantern as if it had suddenly occurred to him that this, whatever +happened, should not be a deed of darkness. Mr. Travers did +nothing but turn his head to look over his shoulder. + +"One moment," said d'Alcacer, in a low tone and smiling at Mrs. +Travers' agitation. "Before you tell me anything let me ask you: +'Have YOU made up your mind?'" He saw with much surprise a +widening of her eyes. Was it indignation? A pause as of suspicion +fell between those two people. Then d'Alcacer said +apologetically: "Perhaps I ought not to have asked that +question," and Lingard caught Mrs. Travers' words, "Oh, I am not +afraid to answer that question." + +Then their voices sank. Lingard hung the lamp up again and stood +idle in the revived light; but almost immediately he heard +d'Alcacer calling him discreetly. + +"Captain Lingard!" + +He moved toward them at once. At the same instant Mr. Travers' +head pivoted away from the group to its frontal position. + +D'Alcacer, very serious, spoke in a familiar undertone. + +"Mrs. Travers tells me that we must be delivered up to those +Moors on shore." + +"Yes, there is nothing else for it," said Lingard. + +"I confess I am a bit startled," said d'Alcacer; but except for a +slightly hurried utterance nobody could have guessed at anything +resembling emotion. + +"I have a right to my good name," said Lingard, also very calm, +while Mrs. Travers near him, with half-veiled eyes, listened +impassive like a presiding genius. + +"I wouldn't question that for a moment," conceded d'Alcacer. "A +point of honour is not to be discussed. But there is such a thing +as humanity, too. To be delivered up helplessly. . . ." + +"Perhaps!" interrupted Lingard. "But you needn't feel hopeless. I +am not at liberty to give up my life for your own. Mrs. Travers +knows why. That, too, is engaged." + +"Always on your honour?" + +"I don't know. A promise is a promise." + +"Nobody can be held to the impossible," remarked d'Alcacer. + +"Impossible! What is impossible? I don't know it. I am not a man +to talk of the impossible or dodge behind it. I did not bring you +here." + +D'Alcacer lowered his head for a moment. "I have finished," he +said, gravely. "That much I had to say. I hope you don't think I +have appeared unduly anxious." + +"It's the best policy, too." Mrs. Travers made herself heard +suddenly. Nothing of her moved but her lips, she did not even +raise her eyes. "It's the only possible policy. You believe me, +Mr. d'Alcacer? . . ." He made an almost imperceptible movement of +the head. . . . "Well, then, I put all my hope in you, Mr. +d'Alcacer, to get this over as easily as possible and save us all +from some odious scene. You think perhaps that it is I who ought +to. . . ." + +"No, no! I don't think so," interrupted d'Alcacer. "It would be +impossible." + +"I am afraid it would," she admitted, nervously. + +D'Alcacer made a gesture as if to beg her to say no more and at +once crossed over to Mr. Travers' side of the Cage. He did not +want to give himself time to think about his task. Mr. Travers +was sitting up on the camp bedstead with a light cotton sheet +over his legs. He stared at nothing, and on approaching him +d'Alcacer disregarded the slight sinking of his own heart at this +aspect which seemed to be that of extreme terror. "This is +awful," he thought. The man kept as still as a hare in its form. + +The impressed d'Alcacer had to make an effort to bring himself to +tap him lightly on the shoulder. + +"The moment has come, Travers, to show some fortitude," he said +with easy intimacy. Mr. Travers looked up swiftly. "I have just +been talking to your wife. She had a communication from Captain +Lingard for us both. It remains for us now to preserve as much as +possible our dignity. I hope that if necessary we will both know +how to die." + +In a moment of profound stillness, d'Alcacer had time to wonder +whether his face was as stony in expression as the one upturned +to him. But suddenly a smile appeared on it, which was certainly +the last thing d'Alcacer expected to see. An indubitable smile. A +slightly contemptuous smile. + +"My wife has been stuffing your head with some more of her +nonsense." Mr. Travers spoke in a voice which astonished +d'Alcacer as much as the smile, a voice that was not irritable +nor peevish, but had a distinct note of indulgence. "My dear +d'Alcacer, that craze has got such a hold of her that she would +tell you any sort of tale. Social impostors, mediums, +fortune-tellers, charlatans of all sorts do obtain a strange +influence over women. You have seen that sort of thing yourself. +I had a talk with her before dinner. The influence that bandit +has got over her is incredible. I really believe the fellow is +half crazy himself. They often are, you know. I gave up arguing +with her. Now, what is it you have got to tell me? But I warn you +that I am not going to take it seriously." + +He rejected briskly the cotton sheet, put his feet to the ground +and buttoned his jacket. D'Alcacer, as he talked, became aware by +the slight noise behind him that Mrs. Travers and Lingard were +leaving the Cage, but he went on to the end and then waited +anxiously for the answer. + +"See! She has followed him out on deck," were Mr. Travers' first +words. "I hope you understand that it is a mere craze. You can't +help seeing that. Look at her costume. She simply has lost her +head. Luckily the world needn't know. But suppose that something +similar had happened at home. It would have been extremely +awkward. Oh! yes, I will come. I will go anywhere. I can't stand +this hulk, those people, this infernal Cage. I believe I should +fall ill if I were to remain here." + +The inward detached voice of Jorgenson made itself heard near the +gangway saying: "The boat has been waiting for this hour past, +King Tom." + +"Let us make a virtue of necessity and go with a good grace," +said d'Alcacer, ready to take Mr. Travers under the arm +persuasively, for he did not know what to make of that gentleman. + +But Mr. Travers seemed another man. "I am afraid. d'Alcacer, that +you, too, are not very strong-minded. I am going to take a +blanket off this bedstead. . . ." He flung it hastily over his +arm and followed d'Alcacer closely. "What I suffer mostly from, +strange to say, is cold." + +Mrs. Travers and Lingard were waiting near the gangway. To +everybody's extreme surprise Mr. Travers addressed his wife +first. + +"You were always laughing at people's crazes," was what he said, +"and now you have a craze of your own. But we won't discuss +that." + +D'Alcacer passed on, raising his cap to Mrs. Travers, and went +down the ship's side into the boat. Jorgenson had vanished in his +own manner like an exorcised ghost, and Lingard, stepping back, +left husband and wife face to face. + +"Did you think I was going to make a fuss?" asked Mr. Travers in +a very low voice. "I assure you I would rather go than stay here. +You didn't think that? You have lost all sense of reality, of +probability. I was just thinking this evening that I would rather +be anywhere than here looking on at you. At your folly. . . ." + +Mrs. Travers' loud, "Martin!" made Lingard wince, caused +d'Alcacer to lift his head down there in the boat, and even +Jorgenson, forward somewhere out of sight, ceased mumbling in his +moustache. The only person who seemed not to have heard that +exclamation was Mr. Travers himself, who continued smoothly: + +". . . at the aberration of your mind, you who seemed so superior +to common credulities. You are not yourself, not at all, and some +day you will admit to me that . . . No, the best thing will be to +forget it, as you will soon see yourself. We shall never mention +that subject in the future. I am certain you will be only too +glad to agree with me on that point." + +"How far ahead are you looking?" asked Mrs. Travers, finding her +voice and even the very tone in which she would have addressed +him had they been about to part in the hall of their town house. +She might have been asking him at what time he expected to be +home, while a footman held the door open and the brougham waited +in the street. + +"Not very far. This can't last much longer." Mr. Travers made a +movement as if to leave her exactly as though he were rather +pressed to keep an appointment. "By the by," he said, checking +himself, "I suppose the fellow understands thoroughly that we are +wealthy. He could hardly doubt that." + +"It's the last thought that would enter his head," said Mrs. +Travers. + +"Oh, yes, just so," Mr. Travers allowed a little impatience to +pierce under his casual manner. "But I don't mind telling you +that I have had enough of this. I am prepared to make--ah!--to +make concessions. A large pecuniary sacrifice. Only the whole +position is so absurd! He might conceivably doubt my good faith. +Wouldn't it be just as well if you, with your particular +influence, would hint to him that with me he would have nothing +to fear? I am a man of my word." + +"That is the first thing he would naturally think of any man," +said Mrs. Travers. + +"Will your eyes never be opened?" Mr. Travers began, irritably, +then gave it up. "Well, so much the better then. I give you a +free hand." + +"What made you change your attitude like this?" asked Mrs. +Travers, suspiciously. + +"My regard for you," he answered without hesitation. + +"I intended to join you in your captivity. I was just trying to +persuade him. . . ." + +"I forbid you absolutely," whispered Mr. Travers, forcibly. "I am +glad to get away. I don't want to see you again till your craze +is over." + +She was confounded by his secret vehemence. But instantly +succeeding his fierce whisper came a short, inane society laugh +and a much louder, "Not that I attach any importance . . ." + +He sprang away, as it were, from his wife, and as he went over +the gangway waved his hand to her amiably. + +Lighted dimly by the lantern on the roof of the deckhouse Mrs. +Travers remained very still with lowered head and an aspect of +profound meditation. It lasted but an instant before she moved +off and brushing against Lingard passed on with downcast eyes to +her deck cabin. Lingard heard the door shut. He waited awhile, +made a movement toward the gangway but checked himself and +followed Mrs. Travers into her cabin. + +It was pitch dark in there. He could see absolutely nothing and +was oppressed by the profound stillness unstirred even by the +sound of breathing. + +"I am going on shore," he began, breaking the black and deathlike +silence enclosing him and the invisible woman. "I wanted to say +good-bye." + +"You are going on shore," repeated Mrs. Travers. Her voice was +emotionless, blank, unringing. + +"Yes, for a few hours, or for life," Lingard said in measured +tones. "I may have to die with them or to die maybe for others. +For you, if I only knew how to manage it, I would want to live. I +am telling you this because it is dark. If there had been a light +in here I wouldn't have come in." + +"I wish you had not," uttered the same unringing woman's voice. +"You are always coming to me with those lives and those deaths in +your hand." + +"Yes, it's too much for you," was Lingard's undertoned comment. +"You could be no other than true. And you are innocent! Don't +wish me life, but wish me luck, for you are innocent--and you +will have to take your chance." + +"All luck to you, King Tom," he heard her say in the darkness in +which he seemed now to perceive the gleam of her hair. "I will +take my chance. And try not to come near me again for I am weary +of you." + +"I can well believe it," murmured Lingard, and stepped out of the +cabin, shutting the door after him gently. For half a minute, +perhaps, the stillness continued, and then suddenly the chair +fell over in the darkness. Next moment Mrs. Travers' head +appeared in the light of the lamp left on the roof of the +deckhouse. Her bare arms grasped the door posts. + +"Wait a moment," she said, loudly, into the shadows of the deck. +She heard no footsteps, saw nothing moving except the vanishing +white shape of the late Captain H. C. Jorgenson, who was +indifferent to the life of men. "Wait, King Tom!" she insisted, +raising her voice; then, "I didn't mean it. Don't believe me!" +she cried, recklessly. + +For the second time that night a woman's voice startled the +hearts of men on board the Emma. All except the heart of old +Jorgenson. The Malays in the boat looked up from their thwarts. +D'Alcacer, sitting in the stern sheets beside Lingard, felt a +sinking of his heart. + +"What's this?" he exclaimed. "I heard your name on deck. You are +wanted, I think." + +"Shove off," ordered Lingard, inflexibly, without even looking at +d'Alcacer. Mr. Travers was the only one who didn't seem to be +aware of anything. A long time after the boat left the Emma's +side he leaned toward d'Alcacer. + +"I have a most extraordinary feeling," he said in a cautious +undertone. "I seem to be in the air--I don't know. Are we on the +water, d'Alcacer? Are you quite sure? But of course, we are on +the water." + +"Yes," said d'Alcacer, in the same tone. "Crossing the +Styx--perhaps." He heard Mr. Travers utter an unmoved "Very +likely," which he did not expect. Lingard, his hand on the +tiller, sat like a man of stone. + +"Then your point of view has changed," whispered d'Alcacer. + +"I told my wife to make an offer," went on the earnest whisper of +the other man. "A sum of money. But to tell you the truth I don't +believe very much in its success." + +D'Alcacer made no answer and only wondered whether he didn't like +better Mr. Travers' other, unreasonable mood. There was no +denying the fact that Mr. Travers was a troubling person. Now he +suddenly gripped d'Alcacer's fore-arm and added under his breath: +"I doubt everything. I doubt whether the offer will ever be +made." + +All this was not very impressive. There was something pitiful in +it: whisper, grip, shudder, as of a child frightened in the dark. +But the emotion was deep. Once more that evening, but this time +aroused by the husband's distress, d'Alcacer's wonder approached +the borders of awe. + + + +PART VI. THE CLAIM OF LIFE AND THE TOLL OF DEATH + +I + +"Have you got King Tom's watch in there?" said a voice that +seemed not to attach the slightest importance to the question. +Jorgenson, outside the door of Mrs. Travers' part of the +deckhouse, waited for the answer. He heard a low cry very much +like a moan, the startled sound of pain that may be sometimes +heard in sick rooms. But it moved him not at all. He would never +have dreamt of opening the door unless told to do so, in which +case he would have beheld, with complete indifference, Mrs. +Travers extended on the floor with her head resting on the edge +of the camp bedstead (on which Lingard had never slept), as +though she had subsided there from a kneeling posture which is +the attitude of prayer, supplication, or defeat. The hours of the +night had passed Mrs. Travers by. After flinging herself on her +knees, she didn't know why, since she could think of nothing to +pray for, had nothing to invoke, and was too far gone for such a +futile thing as despair, she had remained there till the sense of +exhaustion had grown on her to the point in which she lost her +belief in her power to rise. In a half-sitting attitude, her head +resting against the edge of the couch and her arms flung above +her head, she sank into an indifference, the mere resignation of +a worn-out body and a worn-out mind which often is the only sort +of rest that comes to people who are desperately ill and is +welcome enough in a way. The voice of Jorgenson roused her out of +that state. She sat up, aching in every limb and cold all over. + +Jorgenson, behind the door, repeated with lifeless obstinacy: + +"Do you see King Tom's watch in there?" + +Mrs. Travers got up from the floor. She tottered, snatching at +the air, and found the back of the armchair under her hand. + +"Who's there?" + +She was also ready to ask: "Where am I?" but she remembered and +at once became the prey of that active dread which had been lying +dormant for a few hours in her uneasy and prostrate body. "What +time is it?" she faltered out. + +"Dawn," pronounced the imperturbable voice at the door. It seemed +to her that it was a word that could make any heart sink with +apprehension. Dawn! She stood appalled. And the toneless voice +outside the door insisted: + +"You must have Tom's watch there!" + +"I haven't seen it," she cried as if tormented by a dream. + +"Look in that desk thing. If you push open the shutter you will +be able to see." + +Mrs. Travers became aware of the profound darkness of the cabin. +Jorgenson heard her staggering in there. After a moment a woman's +voice, which struck even him as strange, said in faint tones: + +"I have it. It's stopped." + +"It doesn't matter. I don't want to know the time. There should +be a key about. See it anywhere?" + +"Yes, it's fastened to the watch," the dazed voice answered from +within. Jorgenson waited before making his request. "Will you +pass it out to me? There's precious little time left now!" + +The door flew open, which was certainly something Jorgenson had +not expected. He had expected but a hand with the watch protruded +through a narrow crack, But he didn't start back or give any +other sign of surprise at seeing Mrs. Travers fully dressed. +Against the faint clearness in the frame of the open shutter she +presented to him the dark silhouette of her shoulders surmounted +by a sleek head, because her hair was still in the two plaits. To +Jorgenson Mrs. Travers in her un-European dress had always been +displeasing, almost monstrous. Her stature, her gestures, her +general carriage struck his eye as absurdly incongruous with a +Malay costume, too ample, too free, too bold--offensive. To Mrs. +Travers, Jorgenson, in the dusk of the passage, had the aspect of +a dim white ghost, and he chilled her by his ghost's aloofness. + +He picked up the watch from her outspread palm without a word of +thanks, only mumbling in his moustache, "H'm, yes, that's it. I +haven't yet forgotten how to count seconds correctly, but it's +better to have a watch." + +She had not the slightest notion what he meant. And she did not +care. Her mind remained confused and the sense of bodily +discomfort oppressed her. She whispered, shamefacedly, "I believe +I've slept." + +"I haven't," mumbled Jorgenson, growing more and more distinct to +her eyes. The brightness of the short dawn increased rapidly as +if the sun were impatient to look upon the Settlement. "No fear +of that," he added, boastfully. + +It occurred to Mrs. Travers that perhaps she had not slept +either. Her state had been more like an imperfect, +half-conscious, quivering death. She shuddered at the +recollection. + +"What an awful night," she murmured, drearily. + +There was nothing to hope for from Jorgenson. She expected him to +vanish, indifferent, like a phantom of the dead carrying off the +appropriately dead watch in his hand for some unearthly purpose. +Jorgenson didn't move. His was an insensible, almost a senseless +presence! Nothing could be extorted from it. But a wave of +anguish as confused as all her other sensations swept Mrs. +Travers off her feet. + +"Can't you tell me something?" she cried. + +For half a minute perhaps Jorgenson made no sound; then: "For +years I have been telling anybody who cared to ask," he mumbled +in his moustache. "Telling Tom, too. And Tom knew what he wanted +to do. How's one to know what YOU are after?" + +She had never expected to hear so many words from that rigid +shadow. Its monotonous mumble was fascinating, its sudden +loquacity was shocking. And in the profound stillness that +reigned outside it was as if there had been no one left in the +world with her but the phantom of that old adventurer. He was +heard again: "What I could tell you would be worse than poison." + +Mrs. Travers was not familiar with Jorgenson's consecrated +phrases. The mechanical voice, the words themselves, his air of +abstraction appalled her. And he hadn't done yet; she caught some +more of his unconcerned mumbling: "There is nothing I don't +know," and the absurdity of the statement was also appalling. +Mrs. Travers gasped and with a wild little laugh: + +"Then you know why I called after King Tom last night." + +He glanced away along his shoulder through the door of the +deckhouse at the growing brightness of the day. She did so, too. +It was coming. It had come! Another day! And it seemed to Mrs. +Travers a worse calamity than any discovery she had made in her +life, than anything she could have imagined to come to her. The +very magnitude of horror steadied her, seemed to calm her +agitation as some kinds of fatal drugs do before they kill. She +laid a steady hand on Jorgenson's sleeve and spoke quietly, +distinctly, urgently. + +"You were on deck. What I want to know is whether I was heard?" + +"Yes," said Jorgenson, absently, "I heard you." Then, as if +roused a little, he added less mechanically: "The whole ship +heard you." + +Mrs. Travers asked herself whether perchance she had not simply +screamed. It had never occurred to her before that perhaps she +had. At the time it seemed to her she had no strength for more +than a whisper. Had she been really so loud? And the deadly +chill, the night that had gone by her had left in her body, +vanished from her limbs, passed out of her in a flush. Her face +was turned away from the light, and that fact gave her courage to +continue. Moreover, the man before her was so detached from the +shames and prides and schemes of life that he seemed not to count +at all, except that somehow or other he managed at times to catch +the mere literal sense of the words addressed to him--and answer +them. And answer them! Answer unfailingly, impersonally, without +any feeling. + +"You saw Tom--King Tom? Was he there? I mean just then, at the +moment. There was a light at the gangway. Was he on deck?" + +"No. In the boat." + +"Already? Could I have been heard in the boat down there? You say +the whole ship heard me--and I don't care. But could he hear me?" + +"Was it Tom you were after?" said Jorgenson in the tone of a +negligent remark. + +"Can't you answer me?" she cried, angrily. + +"Tom was busy. No child's play. The boat shoved off," said +Jorgenson, as if he were merely thinking aloud. + +"You won't tell me, then?" Mrs. Travers apostrophized him, +fearlessly. She was not afraid of Jorgenson. Just then she was +afraid of nothing and nobody. And Jorgenson went on thinking +aloud. + +"I guess he will be kept busy from now on and so shall I." + +Mrs. Travers seemed ready to take by the shoulders and shake that +dead-voiced spectre till it begged for mercy. But suddenly her +strong white arms fell down by her side, the arms of an exhausted +woman. + +"I shall never, never find out," she whispered to herself. + +She cast down her eyes in intolerable humiliation, in intolerable +desire, as though she had veiled her face. Not a sound reached +the loneliness of her thought. But when she raised her eyes again +Jorgenson was no longer standing before her. + +For an instant she saw him all black in the brilliant and narrow +doorway, and the next moment he had vanished outside, as if +devoured by the hot blaze of light. The sun had risen on the +Shore of Refuge. + +When Mrs. Travers came out on deck herself it was as it were with +a boldly unveiled face, with wide-open and dry, sleepless eyes. +Their gaze, undismayed by the sunshine, sought the innermost +heart of things each day offered to the passion of her dread and +of her impatience. The lagoon, the beach, the colours and the +shapes struck her more than ever as a luminous painting on an +immense cloth hiding the movements of an inexplicable life. She +shaded her eyes with her hand. There were figures on the beach, +moving dark dots on the white semicircle bounded by the +stockades, backed by roof ridges above the palm groves. Further +back the mass of carved white coral on the roof of the mosque +shone like a white day-star. Religion and politics--always +politics! To the left, before Tengga's enclosure, the loom of +fire had changed into a pillar of smoke. But there were some big +trees over there and she couldn't tell whether the night council +had prolonged its sitting. Some vague forms were still moving +there and she could picture them to herself: Daman, the supreme +chief of sea-robbers, with a vengeful heart and the eyes of a +gazelle; Sentot, the sour fanatic with the big turban, that other +saint with a scanty loin cloth and ashes in his hair, and Tengga +whom she could imagine from hearsay, fat, good-tempered, crafty, +but ready to spill blood on his ambitious way and already bold +enough to flaunt a yellow state umbrella at the very gate of +Belarab's stockade--so they said. + +She saw, she imagined, she even admitted now the reality of those +things no longer a mere pageant marshalled for her vision with +barbarous splendour and savage emphasis. She questioned it no +longer--but she did not feel it in her soul any more than one +feels the depth of the sea under its peaceful glitter or the +turmoil of its grey fury. Her eyes ranged afar, unbelieving and +fearful--and then all at once she became aware of the empty Cage +with its interior in disorder, the camp bedsteads not taken away, +a pillow lying on the deck, the dying flame like a shred of dull +yellow stuff inside the lamp left hanging over the table. The +whole struck her as squalid and as if already decayed, a flimsy +and idle phantasy. But Jorgenson, seated on the deck with his +back to it, was not idle. His occupation, too, seemed fantastic +and so truly childish that her heart sank at the man's utter +absorption in it. Jorgenson had before him, stretched on the +deck, several bits of rather thin and dirty-looking rope of +different lengths from a couple of inches to about a foot. He had +(an idiot might have amused himself in that way) set fire to the +ends of them. They smouldered with amazing energy, emitting now +and then a splutter, and in the calm air within the bulwarks sent +up very slender, exactly parallel threads of smoke, each with a +vanishing curl at the end; and the absorption with which +Jorgenson gave himself up to that pastime was enough to shake all +confidence in his sanity. + +In one half-opened hand he was holding the watch. He was also +provided with a scrap of paper and the stump of a pencil. Mrs. +Travers was confident that he did not either hear or see her. + +"Captain Jorgenson, you no doubt think. . . ." + +He tried to wave her away with the stump of the pencil. He did +not want to be interrupted in his strange occupation. He was +playing very gravely indeed with those bits of string. "I lighted +them all together," he murmured, keeping one eye on the dial of +the watch. Just then the shortest piece of string went out, +utterly consumed. Jorgenson made a hasty note and remained still +while Mrs. Travers looked at him with stony eyes thinking that +nothing in the world was any use. The other threads of smoke went +on vanishing in spirals before the attentive Jorgenson. + +"What are you doing?" asked Mrs. Travers, drearily. + +"Timing match . . . precaution. . . ." + +He had never in Mrs. Travers' experience been less spectral than +then. He displayed a weakness of the flesh. He was impatient at +her intrusion. He divided his attention between the threads of +smoke and the face of the watch with such interest that the +sudden reports of several guns breaking for the first time for +days the stillness of the lagoon and the illusion of the painted +scene failed to make him raise his head. He only jerked it +sideways a little. Mrs. Travers stared at the wisps of white +vapour floating above Belarab's stockade. The series of sharp +detonations ceased and their combined echoes came back over the +lagoon like a long-drawn and rushing sigh. + +"What's this?" cried Mrs. Travers. + +"Belarab's come home," said Jorgenson. + +The last thread of smoke disappeared and Jorgenson got up. He had +lost all interest in the watch and thrust it carelessly into his +pocket, together with the bit of paper and the stump of pencil. +He had resumed his aloofness from the life of men, but +approaching the bulwark he condescended to look toward Belarab's +stockade. + +"Yes, he is home," he said very low. + +''What's going to happen?" cried Mrs. Travers. "What's to be +done?" Jorgenson kept up his appearance of communing with +himself. + +"I know what to do," he mumbled. + +"You are lucky," said Mrs. Travers, with intense bitterness. + +It seemed to her that she was abandoned by all the world. The +opposite shore of the lagoon had resumed its aspect of a painted +scene that would never roll up to disclose the truth behind its +blinding and soulless splendour. It seemed to her that she had +said her last words to all of them: to d'Alcacer, to her husband, +to Lingard himself--and that they had all gone behind the curtain +forever out of her sight. Of all the white men Jorgenson alone +was left, that man who had done with life so completely that his +mere presence robbed it of all heat and mystery, leaving nothing +but its terrible, its revolting insignificance. And Mrs. Travers +was ready for revolt. She cried with suppressed passion: + +"Are you aware, Captain Jorgenson, that I am alive?" + +He turned his eyes on her, and for a moment she was daunted by +their cold glassiness. But before they could drive her away, +something like the gleam of a spark gave them an instant's +animation. + +"I want to go and join them. I want to go ashore," she said, +firmly. "There!" + +Her bare and extended arm pointed across the lagoon, and +Jorgenson's resurrected eyes glided along the white limb and +wandered off into space. + +"No boat," he muttered. + +"There must be a canoe. I know there is a canoe. I want it." + +She stepped forward compelling, commanding, trying to concentrate +in her glance all her will power, the sense of her own right to +dispose of herself and her claim to be served to the last moment +of her life. It was as if she had done nothing. Jorgenson didn't +flinch. + +"Which of them are you after?" asked his blank, unringing voice. + +She continued to look at him; her face had stiffened into a +severe mask; she managed to say distinctly: + +"I suppose you have been asking yourself that question for some +time, Captain Jorgenson?" + +"No. I am asking you now." + +His face disclosed nothing to Mrs. Travers' bold and weary eyes. +"What could you do over there?" Jorgenson added as merciless, as +irrepressible, and sincere as though he were the embodiment of +that inner voice that speaks in all of us at times and, like +Jorgenson, is offensive and difficult to answer. + +"Remember that I am not a shadow but a living woman still, +Captain Jorgenson. I can live and I can die. Send me over to +share their fate." + +"Sure you would like?" asked the roused Jorgenson in a voice that +had an unexpected living quality, a faint vibration which no man +had known in it for years. "There may be death in it," he +mumbled, relapsing into indifference. + +"Who cares?" she said, recklessly. "All I want is to ask Tom a +question and hear his answer. That's what I would like. That's +what I must have." + + + +II + +Along the hot and gloomy forest path, neglected, overgrown and +strangled in the fierce life of the jungle, there came a faint +rustle of leaves. Jaffir, the servant of princes, the messenger +of great men, walked, stooping, with a broad chopper in his hand. +He was naked from the waist upward, his shoulders and arms were +scratched and bleeding. A multitude of biting insects made a +cloud about his head. He had lost his costly and ancient +head-kerchief, and when in a slightly wider space he stopped in a +listening attitude anybody would have taken him for a fugitive. + +He waved his arms about, slapping his shoulders, the sides of his +head, his heaving flanks; then, motionless, listened again for a +while. A sound of firing, not so much made faint by distance as +muffled by the masses of foliage, reached his ears, dropping +shots which he could have counted if he had cared to. "There is +fighting in the forest already," he thought. Then putting his +head low in the tunnel of vegetation he dashed forward out of the +horrible cloud of flies, which he actually managed for an instant +to leave behind him. But it was not from the cruelty of insects +that he was flying, for no man could hope to drop that escort, +and Jaffir in his life of a faithful messenger had been +accustomed, if such an extravagant phrase may be used, to be +eaten alive. Bent nearly double he glided and dodged between the +trees, through the undergrowth, his brown body streaming with +sweat, his firm limbs gleaming like limbs of imperishable bronze +through the mass of green leaves that are forever born and +forever dying. For all his desperate haste he was no longer a +fugitive; he was simply a man in a tremendous hurry. His flight, +which had begun with a bound and a rush and a general display of +great presence of mind, was a simple issue from a critical +situation. Issues from critical situations are generally simple +if one is quick enough to think of them in time. He became aware +very soon that the attempt to pursue him had been given up, but +he had taken the forest path and had kept up his pace because he +had left his Rajah and the lady Immada beset by enemies on the +edge of the forest, as good as captives to a party of Tengga's +men. + +Belarab's hesitation had proved too much even for Hassim's +hereditary patience in such matters. It is but becoming that +weighty negotiations should be spread over many days, that the +same requests and arguments should be repeated in the same words, +at many successive interviews, and receive the same evasive +answers. Matters of state demand the dignity of such a procedure +as if time itself had to wait on the power and wisdom of rulers. +Such are the proceedings of embassies and the dignified patience +of envoys. But at this time of crisis Hassim's impatience +obtained the upper hand; and though he never departed from the +tradition of soft speech and restrained bearing while following +with his sister in the train of the pious Belarab, he had his +moments of anger, of anxiety, of despondency. His friendships, +his future, his country's destinies were at stake, while +Belarab's camp wandered deviously over the back country as if +influenced by the vacillation of the ruler's thought, the very +image of uncertain fate. + +Often no more than the single word "Good" was all the answer +vouchsafed to Hassim's daily speeches. The lesser men, companions +of the Chief, treated him with deference; but Hassim could feel +the opposition from the women's side of the camp working against +his cause in subservience to the mere caprice of the new wife, a +girl quite gentle and kind to her dependents, but whose +imagination had run away with her completely and had made her +greedy for the loot of the yacht from mere simplicity and +innocence. What could Hassim, that stranger, wandering and poor, +offer for her acceptance? Nothing. The wealth of his far-off +country was but an idle tale, the talk of an exile looking for +help. + +At night Hassim had to listen to the anguished doubts of Immada, +the only companion of his life, child of the same mother, brave +as a man, but in her fears a very woman. She whispered them to +him far into the night while the camp of the great Belarab was +hushed in sleep and the fires had sunk down to mere glowing +embers. Hassim soothed her gravely. But he, too, was a native of +Wajo where men are more daring and quicker of mind than other +Malays. More energetic, too, and energy does not go without an +inner fire. Hassim lost patience and one evening he declared to +his sister Immada: "To-morrow we leave this ruler without a mind +and go back to our white friend." + +Therefore next morning, letting the camp move on the direct road +to the settlement, Hassim and Immada took a course of their own. +It was a lonely path between the jungle and the clearings. They +had two attendants with them, Hassim's own men, men of Wajo; and +so the lady Immada, when she had a mind to, could be carried, +after the manner of the great ladies of Wajo who need not put +foot to the ground unless they like. The lady Immada, accustomed +to the hardships that are the lot of exiles, preferred to walk, +but from time to time she let herself be carried for a short +distance out of regard for the feelings of her attendants. The +party made good time during the early hours, and Hassim expected +confidently to reach before evening the shore of the lagoon at a +spot very near the stranded Emma. At noon they rested in the +shade near a dark pool within the edge of the forest; and it was +there that Jaffir met them, much to his and their surprise. It +was the occasion of a long talk. Jaffir, squatting on his heels, +discoursed in measured tones. He had entranced listeners. The +story of Carter's exploit amongst the Shoals had not reached +Belarab's camp. It was a great shock to Hassim, but the sort of +half smile with which he had been listening to Jaffir never +altered its character. It was the Princess Immada who cried out +in distress and wrung her hands. A deep silence fell. + +Indeed, before the fatal magnitude of the fact it seemed even to +those Malays that there was nothing to say and Jaffir, lowering +his head, respected his Prince's consternation. Then, before that +feeling could pass away from that small group of people seated +round a few smouldering sticks, the noisy approach of a large +party of men made them all leap to their feet. Before they could +make another movement they perceived themselves discovered. The +men were armed as if bound on some warlike expedition. Amongst +them Sentot, in his loin cloth and with unbound wild locks, +capered and swung his arms about like the lunatic he was. The +others' astonishment made them halt, but their attitude was +obviously hostile. In the rear a portly figure flanked by two +attendants carrying swords was approaching prudently. Rajah +Hassim resumed quietly his seat on the trunk of a fallen tree, +Immada rested her hand lightly on her brother's shoulder, and +Jaffir, squatting down again, looked at the ground with all his +faculties and every muscle of his body tensely on the alert. + +"Tengga's fighters," he murmured, scornfully. + +In the group somebody shouted, and was answered by shouts from +afar. There could be no thought of resistance. Hassim slipped the +emerald ring from his finger stealthily and Jaffir got hold of it +by an almost imperceptible movement. The Rajah did not even look +at the trusty messenger. + +"Fail not to give it to the white man," he murmured. "Thy servant +hears, O Rajah. It's a charm of great power." + +The shadows were growing to the westward. Everybody was silent, +and the shifting group of armed men seemed to have drifted +closer. Immada, drawing the end of a scarf across her face, +confronted the advance with only one eye exposed. On the flank of +the armed men Sentot was performing a slow dance but he, too, +seemed to have gone dumb. + +"Now go," breathed out Rajah Hassim, his gaze levelled into space +immovably. + +For a second or more Jaffir did not stir, then with a sudden leap +from his squatting posture he flew through the air and struck the +jungle in a great commotion of leaves, vanishing instantly like a +swimmer diving from on high. A deep murmur of surprise arose in +the armed party, a spear was thrown, a shot was fired, three or +four men dashed into the forest, but they soon returned +crestfallen with apologetic smiles; while Jaffir, striking an old +path that seemed to lead in the right direction, ran on in +solitude, raising a rustle of leaves, with a naked parang in his +hand and a cloud of flies about his head. The sun declining to +the westward threw shafts of light across his dark path. He ran +at a springy half-trot, his eyes watchful, his broad chest +heaving, and carrying the emerald ring on the forefinger of a +clenched hand as though he were afraid it should slip off, fly +off, be torn from him by an invisible force, or spirited away by +some enchantment. Who could tell what might happen? There were +evil forces at work in the world, powerful incantations, horrible +apparitions. The messenger of princes and of great men, charged +with the supreme appeal of his master, was afraid in the +deepening shade of the forest. Evil presences might have been +lurking in that gloom. Still the sun had not set yet. He could +see its face through the leaves as he skirted the shore of the +lagoon. But what if Allah's call should come to him suddenly and +he die as he ran! + +He drew a long breath on the shore of the lagoon within about a +hundred yards from the stranded bows of the Emma. The tide was +out and he walked to the end of a submerged log and sent out a +hail for a boat. Jorgenson's voice answered. The sun had sunk +behind the forest belt of the coast. All was still as far as the +eye could reach over the black water. A slight breeze came along +it and Jaffir on the brink, waiting for a canoe, shivered a +little. + +At the same moment Carter, exhausted by thirty hours of +uninterrupted toil at the head of whites and Malays in getting +the yacht afloat, dropped into Mrs. Travers' deck chair, on board +the Hermit, said to the devoted Wasub: "Let a good watch be kept +to-night, old man," glanced contentedly at the setting sun and +fell asleep. + + + +III + +There was in the bows of the Emma an elevated grating over the +heel of her bowsprit whence the eye could take in the whole range +of her deck and see every movement of her crew. It was a spot +safe from eaves-droppers, though, of course, exposed to view. The +sun had just set on the supreme content of Carter when Jorgenson +and Jaffir sat down side by side between the knightheads of the +Emma and, public but unapproachable, impressive and secret, began +to converse in low tones. + +Every Wajo fugitive who manned the hulk felt the approach of a +decisive moment. Their minds were made up and their hearts beat +steadily. They were all desperate men determined to fight and to +die and troubling not about the manner of living or dying. This +was not the case with Mrs. Travers who, having shut herself up in +the deckhouse, was profoundly troubled about those very things, +though she, too, felt desperate enough to welcome almost any +solution. + +Of all the people on board she alone did not know anything of +that conference. In her deep and aimless thinking she had only +become aware of the absence of the slightest sound on board the +Emma. Not a rustle, not a footfall. The public view of Jorgenson +and Jaffir in deep consultation had the effect of taking all wish +to move from every man. + +Twilight enveloped the two figures forward while they talked, +looking in the stillness of their pose like carved figures of +European and Asiatic contrasted in intimate contact. The +deepening dusk had nearly effaced them when at last they rose +without warning, as it were, and thrilling the heart of the +beholders by the sudden movement. But they did not separate at +once. They lingered in their high place as if awaiting the fall +of complete darkness, a fit ending to their mysterious communion. +Jaffir had given Jorgenson the whole story of the ring, the +symbol of a friendship matured and confirmed on the night of +defeat, on the night of flight from a far-distant land sleeping +unmoved under the wrath and fire of heaven. + +"Yes, Tuan," continued Jaffir, "it was first sent out to the +white man, on a night of mortal danger, a present to remember a +friend by. I was the bearer of it then even as I am now. Then, as +now, it was given to me and I was told to save myself and hand +the ring over in confirmation of my message. I did so and that +white man seemed to still the very storm to save my Rajah. He was +not one to depart and forget him whom he had once called his +friend. My message was but a message of good-bye, but the charm +of the ring was strong enough to draw all the power of that white +man to the help of my master. Now I have no words to say. Rajah +Hassim asks for nothing. But what of that? By the mercy of Allah +all things are the same, the compassion of the Most High, the +power of the ring, the heart of the white man. Nothing is +changed, only the friendship is a little older and love has grown +because of the shared dangers and long companionship. Therefore, +Tuan, I have no fear. But how am I to get the ring to the Rajah +Laut? Just hand it to him. The last breath would be time enough +if they were to spear me at his feet. But alas! the bush is full +of Tengga's men, the beach is open and I could never even hope to +reach the gate." + +Jorgenson, with his hands deep in the pockets of his tunic, +listened, looking down. Jaffir showed as much consternation as +his nature was capable of. + +"Our refuge is with God," he murmured. "But what is to be done? +Has your wisdom no stratagem, O Tuan?" + +Jorgenson did not answer. It appeared as though he had no +stratagem. But God is great and Jaffir waited on the other's +immobility, anxious but patient, perplexed yet hopeful in his +grim way, while the night flowing on from the dark forest near by +hid their two figures from the sight of observing men. Before the +silence of Jorgenson Jaffir began to talk practically. Now that +Tengga had thrown off the mask Jaffir did not think that he could +land on the beach without being attacked, captured, nay killed, +since a man like he, though he could save himself by taking +flight at the order of his master, could not be expected to +surrender without a fight. He mentioned that in the exercise of +his important functions he knew how to glide like a shadow, creep +like a snake, and almost burrow his way underground. He was +Jaffir who had never been foiled. No bog, morass, great river or +jungle could stop him. He would have welcomed them. In many +respects they were the friends of a crafty messenger. But that +was an open beach, and there was no other way, and as things +stood now every bush around, every tree trunk, every deep shadow +of house or fence would conceal Tengga's men or such of Daman's +infuriated partisans as had already made their way to the +Settlement. How could he hope to traverse the distance between +the water's edge and Belarab's gate which now would remain shut +night and day? Not only himself but anybody from the Emma would +be sure to be rushed upon and speared in twenty places. + +He reflected for a moment in silence. + +"Even you, Tuan, could not accomplish the feat." + +"True," muttered Jorgenson. + +When, after a period of meditation, he looked round, Jaffir was +no longer by his side. He had descended from the high place and +was probably squatting on his heels in some dark nook on the fore +deck. Jorgenson knew Jaffir too well to suppose that he would go +to sleep. He would sit there thinking himself into a state of +fury, then get away from the Emma in some way or other, go ashore +and perish fighting. He would, in fact, run amok; for it looked +as if there could be no way out of the situation. Then, of +course, Lingard would know nothing of Hassim and Immada's +captivity for the ring would never reach him--the ring that could +tell its own tale. No, Lingard would know nothing. He would know +nothing about anybody outside Belarab's stockade till the end +came, whatever the end might be, for all those people that lived +the life of men. Whether to know or not to know would be good for +Lingard Jorgenson could not tell. He admitted to himself that +here there was something that he, Jorgenson, could not tell. All +the possibilities were wrapped up in doubt, uncertain, like all +things pertaining to the life of men. It was only when giving a +short thought to himself that Jorgenson had no doubt. He, of +course, would know what to do. + +On the thin face of that old adventurer hidden in the night not a +feature moved, not a muscle twitched, as he descended in his turn +and walked aft along the decks of the Emma. His faded eyes, which +had seen so much, did not attempt to explore the night, they +never gave a glance to the silent watchers against whom he +brushed. Had a light been flashed on him suddenly he would have +appeared like a man walking in his sleep: the somnambulist of an +eternal dream. Mrs. Travers heard his footsteps pass along the +side of the deckhouse. She heard them--and let her head fall +again on her bare arms thrown over the little desk before which +she sat. + +Jorgenson, standing by the taffrail, noted the faint reddish glow +in the massive blackness of the further shore. Jorgenson noted +things quickly, cursorily, perfunctorily, as phenomena unrelated +to his own apparitional existence of a visiting ghost. They were +but passages in the game of men who were still playing at life. +He knew too well how much that game was worth to be concerned +about its course. He had given up the habit of thinking for so +long that the sudden resumption of it irked him exceedingly, +especially as he had to think on toward a conclusion. In that +world of eternal oblivion, of which he had tasted before Lingard +made him step back into the life of men, all things were settled +once for all. He was irritated by his own perplexity which was +like a reminder of that mortality made up of questions and +passions from which he had fancied he had freed himself forever. +By a natural association his contemptuous annoyance embraced the +existence of Mrs. Travers, too, for how could he think of Tom +Lingard, of what was good or bad for King Tom, without thinking +also of that woman who had managed to put the ghost of a spark +even into his own extinguished eyes? She was of no account; but +Tom's integrity was. It was of Tom that he had to think, of what +was good or bad for Tom in that absurd and deadly game of his +life. Finally he reached the conclusion that to be given the ring +would be good for Tom Lingard. Just to be given the ring and no +more. The ring and no more. + +"It will help him to make up his mind," muttered Jorgenson in his +moustache, as if compelled by an obscure conviction. It was only +then that he stirred slightly and turned away from the loom of +the fires on the distant shore. Mrs. Travers heard his footsteps +passing again along the side of the deckhouse--and this time +never raised her head. That man was sleepless, mad, childish, and +inflexible. He was impossible. He haunted the decks of that hulk +aimlessly. . . . + +It was, however, in pursuance of a very distinct aim that +Jorgenson had gone forward again to seek Jaffir. + +The first remark he had to offer to Jaffir's consideration was +that the only person in the world who had the remotest chance of +reaching Belarab's gate on that night was that tall white woman +the Rajah Laut had brought on board, the wife of one of the +captive white chiefs. Surprise made Jaffir exclaim, but he wasn't +prepared to deny that. It was possible that for many reasons, +some quite simple and others very subtle, those sons of the Evil +One belonging to Tengga and Daman would refrain from killing a +white woman walking alone from the water's edge to Belarab's +gate. Yes, it was just possible that she might walk unharmed. + +"Especially if she carried a blazing torch," muttered Jorgenson +in his moustache. He told Jaffir that she was sitting now in the +dark, mourning silently in the manner of white women. She had +made a great outcry in the morning to be allowed to join the +white men on shore. He, Jorgenson, had refused her the canoe. +Ever since she had secluded herself in the deckhouse in great +distress. + +Jaffir listened to it all without particular sympathy. And when +Jorgenson added, "It is in my mind, O Jaffir, to let her have her +will now," he answered by a "Yes, by Allah! let her go. What does +it matter?" of the greatest unconcern, till Jorgenson added: + +"Yes. And she may carry the ring to the Rajah Laut." + +Jorgenson saw Jaffir, the grim and impassive Jaffir, give a +perceptible start. It seemed at first an impossible task to +persuade Jaffir to part with the ring. The notion was too +monstrous to enter his mind, to move his heart. But at last he +surrendered in an awed whisper, "God is great. Perhaps it is her +destiny." + +Being a Wajo man he did not regard women as untrustworthy or +unequal to a task requiring courage and judgment. Once he got +over the personal feeling he handed the ring to Jorgenson with +only one reservation, "You know, Tuan, that she must on no +account put it on her finger." + +"Let her hang it round her neck," suggested Jorgenson, readily. + +As Jorgenson moved toward the deckhouse it occurred to him that +perhaps now that woman Tom Lingard had taken in tow might take it +into her head to refuse to leave the Emma. This did not disturb +him very much. All those people moved in the dark. He himself at +that particular moment was moving in the dark. Beyond the simple +wish to guide Lingard's thought in the direction of Hassim and +Immada, to help him to make up his mind at last to a ruthless +fidelity to his purpose Jorgenson had no other aim. The existence +of those whites had no meaning on earth. They were the sort of +people that pass without leaving footprints. That woman would +have to act in ignorance. And if she refused to go then in +ignorance she would have to stay on board. He would tell her +nothing. + +As a matter of fact, he discovered that Mrs. Travers would simply +have nothing to do with him. She would not listen to what he had +to say. She desired him, a mere weary voice confined in the +darkness of the deck cabin, to go away and trouble her no more. +But the ghost of Jorgenson was not easily exorcised. He, too, was +a mere voice in the outer darkness, inexorable, insisting that +she should come out on deck and listen. At last he found the +right words to say. + +"It is something about Tom that I want to tell you. You wish him +well, don't you?" + +After this she could not refuse to come out on deck, and once +there she listened patiently to that white ghost muttering and +mumbling above her drooping head. + +"It seems to me, Captain Jorgenson," she said after he had +ceased, "that you are simply trifling with me. After your +behaviour to me this morning, I can have nothing to say to you." + +"I have a canoe for you now," mumbled Jorgenson. + +"You have some new purpose in view now," retorted Mrs. Travers +with spirit. "But you won't make it clear to me. What is it that +you have in your mind?" + +"Tom's interest." + +"Are you really his friend?" + +"He brought me here. You know it. He has talked a lot to you." + +"He did. But I ask myself whether you are capable of being +anybody's friend." + +"You ask yourself!" repeated Jorgenson, very quiet and morose. +"If I am not his friend I should like to know who is." + +Mrs. Travers asked, quickly: "What's all this about a ring? What +ring?" + +"Tom's property. He has had it for years." + +"And he gave it to you? Doesn't he care for it?" + +"Don't know. It's just a thing." + +"But it has a meaning as between you and him. Is that so?" + +"Yes. It has. He will know what it means." + +"What does it mean?" + +"I am too much his friend not to hold my tongue." + +"What! To me!" + +"And who are you?" was Jorgenson's unexpected remark. "He has +told you too much already." + +"Perhaps he has," whispered Mrs. Travers, as if to herself. "And +you want that ring to be taken to him?" she asked, in a louder +tone. + +"Yes. At once. For his good." + +"Are you certain it is for his good? Why can't you. . . ." + +She checked herself. That man was hopeless. He would never tell +anything and there was no means of compelling him. He was +invulnerable, unapproachable. . . . He was dead. + +"Just give it to him," mumbled Jorgenson as though pursuing a +mere fixed idea. "Just slip it quietly into his hand. He will +understand." + +"What is it? Advice, warning, signal for action?" + +"It may be anything," uttered Jorgenson, morosely, but as it were +in a mollified tone. "It's meant for his good." + +"Oh, if I only could trust that man!" mused Mrs. Travers, half +aloud. + +Jorgenson's slight noise in the throat might have been taken for +an expression of sympathy. But he remained silent. + +"Really, this is most extraordinary!" cried Mrs. Travers, +suddenly aroused. "Why did you come to me? Why should it be my +task? Why should you want me specially to take it to him?" + +"I will tell you why," said Jorgenson's blank voice. "It's +because there is no one on board this hulk that can hope to get +alive inside that stockade. This morning you told me yourself +that you were ready to die--for Tom--or with Tom. Well, risk it +then. You are the only one that has half a chance to get through- +-and Tom, maybe, is waiting." + +"The only one," repeated Mrs. Travers with an abrupt movement +forward and an extended hand before which Jorgenson stepped back +a pace. "Risk it! Certainly! Where's that mysterious ring?" + +"I have got it in my pocket," said Jorgenson, readily; yet nearly +half a minute elapsed before Mrs. Travers felt the characteristic +shape being pressed into her half-open palm. "Don't let anybody +see it," Jorgenson admonished her in a murmur. "Hide it somewhere +about you. Why not hang it round your neck?" + +Mrs. Travers' hand remained firmly closed on the ring. "Yes, that +will do," she murmured, hastily. "I'll be back in a moment. Get +everything ready." With those words she disappeared inside the +deckhouse and presently threads of light appeared in the +interstices of the boards. Mrs. Travers had lighted a candle in +there. She was busy hanging that ring round her neck. She was +going. Yes--taking the risk for Tom's sake. + +"Nobody can resist that man," Jorgenson muttered to himself with +increasing moroseness. "_I_ couldn't." + + +IV + +Jorgenson, after seeing the canoe leave the ship's side, ceased +to live intellectually. There was no need for more thinking, for +any display of mental ingenuity. He had done with it all. All his +notions were perfectly fixed and he could go over them in the +same ghostly way in which he haunted the deck of the Emma. At the +sight of the ring Lingard would return to Hassim and Immada, now +captives, too, though Jorgenson certainly did not think them in +any serious danger. What had happened really was that Tengga was +now holding hostages, and those Jorgenson looked upon as +Lingard's own people. They were his. He had gone in with them +deep, very deep. They had a hold and a claim on King Tom just as +many years ago people of that very race had had a hold and a +claim on him, Jorgenson. Only Tom was a much bigger man. A very +big man. Nevertheless, Jorgenson didn't see why he should escape +his own fate--Jorgenson's fate--to be absorbed, captured, made +their own either in failure or in success. It was an unavoidable +fatality and Jorgenson felt certain that the ring would compel +Lingard to face it without flinching. What he really wanted +Lingard to do was to cease to take the slightest interest in +those whites--who were the sort of people that left no +footprints. + +Perhaps at first sight, sending that woman to Lingard was not the +best way toward that end. Jorgenson, however, had a distinct +impression in which his morning talk with Mrs. Travers had only +confirmed him, that those two had quarrelled for good. As, +indeed, was unavoidable. What did Tom Lingard want with any +woman? The only woman in Jorgenson's life had come in by way of +exchange for a lot of cotton stuffs and several brass guns. This +fact could not but affect Jorgenson's judgment since obviously in +this case such a transaction was impossible. Therefore the case +was not serious. It didn't exist. What did exist was Lingard's +relation to the Wajo exiles, a great and warlike adventure such +as no rover in those seas had ever attempted. + +That Tengga was much more ready to negotiate than to fight, the +old adventurer had not the slightest doubt. How Lingard would +deal with him was not a concern of Jorgenson's. That would be +easy enough. Nothing prevented Lingard from going to see Tengga +and talking to him with authority. All that ambitious person +really wanted was to have a share in Lingard's wealth, in +Lingard's power, in Lingard's friendship. A year before Tengga +had once insinuated to Jorgenson, "In what way am I less worthy +of being a friend than Belarab?" + +It was a distinct overture, a disclosure of the man's innermost +mind. Jorgenson, of course, had met it with a profound silence. +His task was not diplomacy but the care of stores. + +After the effort of connected mental processes in order to bring +about Mrs. Travers' departure he was anxious to dismiss the whole +matter from his mind. The last thought he gave to it was severely +practical. It occurred to him that it would be advisable to +attract in some way or other Lingard's attention to the lagoon. +In the language of the sea a single rocket is properly a signal +of distress, but, in the circumstances, a group of three sent up +simultaneously would convey a warning. He gave his orders and +watched the rockets go up finely with a trail of red sparks, a +bursting of white stars high up in the air, and three loud +reports in quick succession. Then he resumed his pacing of the +whole length of the hulk, confident that after this Tom would +guess that something was up and set a close watch over the +lagoon. No doubt these mysterious rockets would have a disturbing +effect on Tengga and his friends and cause a great excitement in +the Settlement; but for that Jorgenson did not care. The +Settlement was already in such a turmoil that a little more +excitement did not matter. What Jorgenson did not expect, +however, was the sound of a musket-shot fired from the jungle +facing the bows of the Emma. It caused him to stop dead short. He +had heard distinctly the bullet strike the curve of the bow +forward. "Some hot-headed ass fired that," he said to himself, +contemptuously. It simply disclosed to him the fact that he was +already besieged on the shore side and set at rest his doubts as +to the length Tengga was prepared to go. Any length! Of course +there was still time for Tom to put everything right with six +words, unless . . . Jorgenson smiled, grimly, in the dark and +resumed his tireless pacing. + +What amused him was to observe the fire which had been burning +night and day before Tengga's residence suddenly extinguished. He +pictured to himself the wild rush with bamboo buckets to the +lagoon shore, the confusion, the hurry and jostling in a great +hissing of water midst clouds of steam. The image of the fat +Tengga's consternation appealed to Jorgenson's sense of humour +for about five seconds. Then he took up the binoculars from the +roof of the deckhouse. + +The bursting of the three white stars over the lagoon had given +him a momentary glimpse of the black speck of the canoe taking +over Mrs. Travers. He couldn't find it again with the glass, it +was too dark; but the part of the shore for which it was steered +would be somewhere near the angle of Belarab's stockade nearest +to the beach. This Jorgenson could make out in the faint rosy +glare of fires burning inside. Jorgenson was certain that Lingard +was looking toward the Emma through the most convenient loophole +he could find. + +As obviously Mrs. Travers could not have paddled herself across, +two men were taking her over; and for the steersman she had +Jaffir. Though he had assented to Jorgenson's plan Jaffir was +anxious to accompany the ring as near as possible to its +destination. Nothing but dire necessity had induced him to part +with the talisman. Crouching in the stern and flourishing his +paddle from side to side he glared at the back of the canvas +deck-chair which had been placed in the middle for Mrs. Travers. +Wrapped up in the darkness she reclined in it with her eyes +closed, faintly aware of the ring hung low on her breast. As the +canoe was rather large it was moving very slowly. The two men +dipped their paddles without a splash: and surrendering herself +passively, in a temporary relaxation of all her limbs, to this +adventure Mrs. Travers had no sense of motion at all. She, too, +like Jorgenson, was tired of thinking. She abandoned herself to +the silence of that night full of roused passions and deadly +purposes. She abandoned herself to an illusory feeling; to the +impression that she was really resting. For the first time in +many days she could taste the relief of being alone. The men with +her were less than nothing. She could not speak to them; she +could not understand them; the canoe might have been moving by +enchantment--if it did move at all. Like a half-conscious sleeper +she was on the verge of saying to herself, "What a strange dream +I am having." + +The low tones of Jaffir's voice stole into it quietly telling the +men to cease paddling, and the long canoe came to a rest slowly, +no more than ten yards from the beach. The party had been +provided with a torch which was to be lighted before the canoe +touched the shore, thus giving a character of openness to this +desperate expedition. "And if it draws fire on us," Jaffir had +commented to Jorgenson, "well, then, we shall see whose fate it +is to die on this night." + +"Yes," had muttered Jorgenson. "We shall see." + +Jorgenson saw at last the small light of the torch against the +blackness of the stockade. He strained his hearing for a possible +volley of musketry fire but no sound came to him over the broad +surface of the lagoon. Over there the man with the torch, the +other paddler, and Jaffir himself impelling with a gentle motion +of his paddle the canoe toward the shore, had the glistening +eyeballs and the tense faces of silent excitement. The ruddy +glare smote Mrs. Travers' closed eyelids but she didn't open her +eyes till she felt the canoe touch the strand. The two men leaped +instantly out of it. Mrs. Travers rose, abruptly. Nobody made a +sound. She stumbled out of the canoe on to the beach and almost +before she had recovered her balance the torch was thrust into +her hand. The heat, the nearness of the blaze confused and +blinded her till, instinctively, she raised the torch high above +her head. For a moment she stood still, holding aloft the fierce +flame from which a few sparks were falling slowly. + +A naked bronze arm lighted from above pointed out the direction +and Mrs. Travers began to walk toward the featureless black mass +of the stockade. When after a few steps she looked back over her +shoulder, the lagoon, the beach, the canoe, the men she had just +left had become already invisible. She was alone bearing up a +blazing torch on an earth that was a dumb shadow shifting under +her feet. At last she reached firmer ground and the dark length +of the palisade untouched as yet by the light of the torch seemed +to her immense, intimidating. She felt ready to drop from sheer +emotion. But she moved on. + +"A little more to the left," shouted a strong voice. + +It vibrated through all her fibres, rousing like the call of a +trumpet, went far beyond her, filled all the space. Mrs. Travers +stood still for a moment, then casting far away from her the +burning torch ran forward blindly with her hands extended toward +the great sound of Lingard's voice, leaving behind her the light +flaring and spluttering on the ground. She stumbled and was only +saved from a fall by her hands coming in contact with the rough +stakes. The stockade rose high above her head and she clung to it +with widely open arms, pressing her whole body against the rugged +surface of that enormous and unscalable palisade. She heard +through it low voices inside, heavy thuds; and felt at every blow +a slight vibration of the ground under her feet. She glanced +fearfully over her shoulder and saw nothing in the darkness but +the expiring glow of the torch she had thrown away and the sombre +shimmer of the lagoon bordering the opaque darkness of the shore. +Her strained eyeballs seemed to detect mysterious movements in +the darkness and she gave way to irresistible terror, to a +shrinking agony of apprehension. Was she to be transfixed by a +broad blade, to the high, immovable wall of wood against which +she was flattening herself desperately, as though she could hope +to penetrate it by the mere force of her fear? She had no idea +where she was, but as a matter of fact she was a little to the +left of the principal gate and almost exactly under one of the +loopholes of the stockade. Her excessive anguish passed into +insensibility. She ceased to hear, to see, and even to feel the +contact of the surface to which she clung. Lingard's voice +somewhere from the sky above her head was directing her, +distinct, very close, full of concern. + +"You must stoop low. Lower yet." + +The stagnant blood of her body began to pulsate languidly. She +stooped low--lower yet--so low that she had to sink on her knees, +and then became aware of a faint smell of wood smoke mingled with +the confused murmur of agitated voices. This came to her through +an opening no higher than her head in her kneeling posture, and +no wider than the breadth of two stakes. Lingard was saying in a +tone of distress: + +"I couldn't get any of them to unbar the gate." + +She was unable to make a sound.--"Are you there?" Lingard asked, +anxiously, so close to her now that she seemed to feel the very +breath of his words on her face. It revived her completely; she +understood what she had to do. She put her head and shoulders +through the opening, was at once seized under the arms by an +eager grip and felt herself pulled through with an irresistible +force and with such haste that her scarf was dragged off her +head, its fringes having caught in the rough timber. The same +eager grip lifted her up, stood her on her feet without her +having to make any exertion toward that end. She became aware +that Lingard was trying to say something, but she heard only a +confused stammering expressive of wonder and delight in which she +caught the words "You . . . you . . . " deliriously repeated. +He didn't release his hold of her; his helpful and irresistible +grip had changed into a close clasp, a crushing embrace, the +violent taking possession by an embodied force that had broken +loose and was not to be controlled any longer. As his great voice +had done a moment before, his great strength, too, seemed able to +fill all space in its enveloping and undeniable authority. Every +time she tried instinctively to stiffen herself against its +might, it reacted, affirming its fierce will, its uplifting +power. Several times she lost the feeling of the ground and had a +sensation of helplessness without fear, of triumph without +exultation. The inevitable had come to pass. She had foreseen +it--and all the time in that dark place and against the red glow +of camp fires within the stockade the man in whose arms she +struggled remained shadowy to her eyes--to her half-closed eyes. +She thought suddenly, "He will crush me to death without knowing +it." + +He was like a blind force. She closed her eyes altogether. Her +head fell back a little. Not instinctively but with wilful +resignation and as it were from a sense of justice she abandoned +herself to his arms. The effect was as though she had suddenly +stabbed him to the heart. He let her go so suddenly and +completely that she would have fallen down in a heap if she had +not managed to catch hold of his forearm. He seemed prepared for +it and for a moment all her weight hung on it without moving its +rigidity by a hair's breadth. Behind her Mrs. Travers heard the +heavy thud of blows on wood, the confused murmurs and movements +of men. + +A voice said suddenly, "It's done," with such emphasis that +though, of course, she didn't understand the words it helped her +to regain possession of herself; and when Lingard asked her very +little above a whisper: "Why don't you say something?" she +answered readily, "Let me get my breath first." + +Round them all sounds had ceased. The men had secured again the +opening through which those arms had snatched her into a moment +of self-forgetfulness which had left her out of breath but +uncrushed. As if something imperative had been satisfied she had +a moment of inward serenity, a period of peace without thought +while, holding to that arm that trembled no more than an arm of +iron, she felt stealthily over the ground for one of the sandals +which she had lost. Oh, yes, there was no doubt of it, she had +been carried off the earth, without shame, without regret. But +she would not have let him know of that dropped sandal for +anything in the world. That lost sandal was as symbolic as a +dropped veil. But he did not know of it. He must never know. +Where was that thing? She felt sure that they had not moved an +inch from that spot. Presently her foot found it and still +gripping Lingard's forearm she stooped to secure it properly. +When she stood up, still holding his arm, they confronted each +other, he rigid in an effort of self-command but feeling as if +the surges of the heaviest sea that he could remember in his life +were running through his heart; and the woman as if emptied of +all feeling by her experience, without thought yet, but beginning +to regain her sense of the situation and the memory of the +immediate past. + +"I have been watching at that loophole for an hour, ever since +they came running to me with that story of the rockets," said +Lingard. "I was shut up with Belarab then. I was looking out when +the torch blazed and you stepped ashore. I thought I was +dreaming. But what could I do? I felt I must rush to you but I +dared not. That clump of palms is full of men. So are the houses +you saw that time you came ashore with me. Full of men. Armed +men. A trigger is soon pulled and when once shooting begins. . . +. And you walking in the open with that light above your head! I +didn't dare. You were safer alone. I had the strength to hold +myself in and watch you come up from the shore. No! No man that +ever lived had seen such a sight. What did you come for?" + +"Didn't you expect somebody? I don't mean me, I mean a +messenger?" + +"No!" said Lingard, wondering at his own self-control. "Why did +he let you come?" + +"You mean Captain Jorgenson? Oh, he refused at first. He said +that he had your orders." + +"How on earth did you manage to get round him?" said Lingard in +his softest tones. + +"I did not try," she began and checked herself. Lingard's +question, though he really didn't seem to care much about an +answer, had aroused afresh her suspicion of Jorgenson's change of +front. "I didn't have to say very much at the last," she +continued, gasping yet a little and feeling her personality, +crushed to nothing in the hug of those arms, expand again to its +full significance before the attentive immobility of that man. +"Captain Jorgenson has always looked upon me as a nuisance. +Perhaps he had made up his mind to get rid of me even against +your orders. Is he quite sane?" + +She released her firm hold of that iron forearm which fell slowly +by Lingard's side. She had regained fully the possession of her +personality. There remained only a fading, slightly breathless +impression of a short flight above that earth on which her feet +were firmly planted now. "And is that all?" she asked herself, +not bitterly, but with a sort of tender contempt. + +"He is so sane," sounded Lingard's voice, gloomily, "that if I +had listened to him you would not have found me here." + +"What do you mean by here? In this stockade?" + +"Anywhere," he said. + +"And what would have happened then?" + +"God knows," he answered. "What would have happened if the world +had not been made in seven days? I have known you for just about +that time. It began by me coming to you at night--like a thief in +the night. Where the devil did I hear that? And that man you are +married to thinks I am no better than a thief." + +"It ought to be enough for you that I never made a mistake as to +what you are, that I come to you in less than twenty-four hours +after you left me contemptuously to my distress. Don't pretend +you didn't hear me call after you. Oh, yes, you heard. The whole +ship heard me for I had no shame." + +"Yes, you came," said Lingard, violently. "But have you really +come? I can't believe my eyes! Are you really here?" + +"This is a dark spot, luckily," said Mrs. Travers. "But can you +really have any doubt?" she added, significantly. + +He made a sudden movement toward her, betraying so much passion +that Mrs. Travers thought, "I shan't come out alive this time," +and yet he was there, motionless before her, as though he had +never stirred. It was more as though the earth had made a sudden +movement under his feet without being able to destroy his +balance. But the earth under Mrs. Travers' feet had made no +movement and for a second she was overwhelmed by wonder not at +this proof of her own self-possession but at the man's immense +power over himself. If it had not been for her strange inward +exhaustion she would perhaps have surrendered to that power. But +it seemed to her that she had nothing in her worth surrendering, +and it was in a perfectly even tone that she said, "Give me your +arm, Captain Lingard. We can't stay all night on this spot." + +As they moved on she thought, "There is real greatness in that +man." He was great even in his behaviour. No apologies, no +explanations, no abasement, no violence, and not even the +slightest tremor of the frame holding that bold and perplexed +soul. She knew that for certain because her fingers were resting +lightly on Lingard's arm while she walked slowly by his side as +though he were taking her down to dinner. And yet she couldn't +suppose for a moment, that, like herself, he was emptied of all +emotion. She never before was so aware of him as a dangerous +force. "He is really ruthless," she thought. They had just left +the shadow of the inner defences about the gate when a slightly +hoarse, apologetic voice was heard behind them repeating +insistently, what even Mrs. Travers' ear detected to be a sort of +formula. The words were: "There is this thing--there is this +thing--there is this thing." They turned round. + +"Oh, my scarf," said Mrs. Travers. + +A short, squat, broad-faced young fellow having for all costume a +pair of white drawers was offering the scarf thrown over both his +arms, as if they had been sticks, and holding it respectfully as +far as possible from his person. Lingard took it from him and +Mrs. Travers claimed it at once. "Don't forget the proprieties," +she said. "This is also my face veil." + +She was arranging it about her head when Lingard said, "There is +no need. I am taking you to those gentlemen."--"I will use it all +the same," said Mrs. Travers. "This thing works both ways, as a +matter of propriety or as a matter of precaution. Till I have an +opportunity of looking into a mirror nothing will persuade me +that there isn't some change in my face." Lingard swung half +round and gazed down at her. Veiled now she confronted him +boldly. "Tell me, Captain Lingard, how many eyes were looking at +us a little while ago?" + +"Do you care?" he asked. + +"Not in the least," she said. "A million stars were looking on, +too, and what did it matter? They were not of the world I know. +And it's just the same with the eyes. They are not of the world I +live in." + +Lingard thought: "Nobody is." Never before had she seemed to him +more unapproachable, more different and more remote. The glow of +a number of small fires lighted the ground only, and brought out +the black bulk of men lying down in the thin drift of smoke. Only +one of these fires, rather apart and burning in front of the +house which was the quarter of the prisoners, might have been +called a blaze and even that was not a great one. It didn't +penetrate the dark space between the piles and the depth of the +verandah above where only a couple of heads and the glint of a +spearhead could be seen dimly in the play of the light. But down +on the ground outside, the black shape of a man seated on a bench +had an intense relief. Another intensely black shadow threw a +handful of brushwood on the fire and went away. The man on the +bench got up. It was d'Alcacer. He let Lingard and Mrs. Travers +come quite close up to him. Extreme surprise seemed to have made +him dumb. + +"You didn't expect . . ." began Mrs. Travers with some +embarrassment before that mute attitude. + +"I doubted my eyes," struck in d'Alcacer, who seemed embarrassed, +too. Next moment he recovered his tone and confessed simply: "At +the moment I wasn't thinking of you, Mrs. Travers." He passed his +hand over his forehead. "I hardly know what I was thinking of." + +In the light of the shooting-up flame Mrs. Travers could see +d'Alcacer's face. There was no smile on it. She could not +remember ever seeing him so grave and, as it were, so distant. +She abandoned Lingard's arm and moved closer to the fire. + +"I fancy you were very far away, Mr. d'Alcacer," she said. + +"This is the sort of freedom of which nothing can deprive us," he +observed, looking hard at the manner in which the scarf was drawn +across Mrs. Travers' face. "It's possible I was far away," he +went on, "but I can assure you that I don't know where I was. +Less than an hour ago we had a great excitement here about some +rockets, but I didn't share in it. There was no one I could ask a +question of. The captain here was, I understood, engaged in a +most momentous conversation with the king or the governor of this +place." + +He addressed Lingard, directly. "May I ask whether you have +reached any conclusion as yet? That Moor is a very dilatory +person, I believe." + +"Any direct attack he would, of course, resist," said Lingard. +"And, so far, you are protected. But I must admit that he is +rather angry with me. He's tired of the whole business. He loves +peace above anything in the world. But I haven't finished with +him yet." + +"As far as I understood from what you told me before," said Mr. +d'Alcacer, with a quick side glance at Mrs. Travers' uncovered +and attentive eyes, "as far as I can see he may get all the peace +he wants at once by driving us two, I mean Mr. Travers and +myself, out of the gate on to the spears of those other enraged +barbarians. And there are some of his counsellors who advise him +to do that very thing no later than the break of day I +understand." + +Lingard stood for a moment perfectly motionless. + +"That's about it," he said in an unemotional tone, and went away +with a heavy step without giving another look at d'Alcacer and +Mrs. Travers, who after a moment faced each other. + +"You have heard?" said d'Alcacer. "Of course that doesn't affect +your fate in any way, and as to him he is much too prestigious to +be killed light-heartedly. When all this is over you will walk +triumphantly on his arm out of this stockade; for there is +nothing in all this to affect his greatness, his absolute value +in the eyes of those people--and indeed in any other eyes." +D'Alcacer kept his glance averted from Mrs. Travers and as soon +as he had finished speaking busied himself in dragging the bench +a little way further from the fire. When they sat down on it he +kept his distance from Mrs. Travers. She made no sign of +unveiling herself and her eyes without a face seemed to him +strangely unknown and disquieting. + +"The situation in a nutshell," she said. "You have arranged it +all beautifully, even to my triumphal exit. Well, and what then? +No, you needn't answer, it has no interest. I assure you I came +here not with any notion of marching out in triumph, as you call +it. I came here, to speak in the most vulgar way, to save your +skin--and mine." + +Her voice came muffled to d'Alcacer's ears with a changed +character, even to the very intonation. Above the white and +embroidered scarf her eyes in the firelight transfixed him, black +and so steady that even the red sparks of the reflected glare did +not move in them. He concealed the strong impression she made. He +bowed his head a little. + +"I believe you know perfectly well what you are doing." + +"No! I don't know," she said, more quickly than he had ever heard +her speak before. "First of all, I don't think he is so safe as +you imagine. Oh, yes, he has prestige enough, I don't question +that. But you are apportioning life and death with too much +assurance. . . ." + +"I know my portion," murmured d'Alcacer, gently. A moment of +silence fell in which Mrs. Travers' eyes ended by intimidating +d'Alcacer, who looked away. The flame of the fire had sunk low. +In the dark agglomeration of buildings, which might have been +called Belarab's palace, there was a certain animation, a +flitting of people, voices calling and answering, the passing to +and fro of lights that would illuminate suddenly a heavy pile, +the corner of a house, the eaves of a low-pitched roof, while in +the open parts of the stockade the armed men slept by the +expiring fires. + +Mrs. Travers said, suddenly, "That Jorgenson is not friendly to +us." + +"Possibly." + +With clasped hands and leaning over his knees d'Alcacer had +assented in a very low tone. Mrs. Travers, unobserved, pressed +her hands to her breast and felt the shape of the ring, thick, +heavy, set with a big stone. It was there, secret, hung against +her heart, and enigmatic. What did it mean? What could it mean? +What was the feeling it could arouse or the action it could +provoke? And she thought with compunction that she ought to have +given it to Lingard at once, without thinking, without +hesitating. "There! This is what I came for. To give you this." +Yes, but there had come an interval when she had been able to +think of nothing, and since then she had had the time to +reflect--unfortunately. To remember Jorgenson's hostile, +contemptuous glance enveloping her from head to foot at the break +of a day after a night of lonely anguish. And now while she sat +there veiled from his keen sight there was that other man, that +d'Alcacer, prophesying. O yes, triumphant. She knew already what +that was. Mrs. Travers became afraid of the ring. She felt ready +to pluck it from her neck and cast it away. + +"I mistrust him," she said.--"You do!" exclaimed d'Alcacer, very +low.--"I mean that Jorgenson. He seems a merciless sort of +creature."--"He is indifferent to everything," said +d'Alcacer.--"It may be a mask." --"Have you some evidence, Mrs. +Travers?" + +"No," said Mrs. Travers without hesitation. "I have my instinct." + +D'Alcacer remained silent for a while as though he were pursuing +another train of thought altogether, then in a gentle, almost +playful tone: "If I were a woman," he said, turning to Mrs. +Travers, "I would always trust my intuition."--"If you were a +woman, Mr. d'Alcacer, I would not be speaking to you in this way +because then I would be suspect to you." + +The thought that before long perhaps he would be neither man nor +woman but a lump of cold clay, crossed d'Alcacer's mind, which +was living, alert, and unsubdued by the danger. He had welcomed +the arrival of Mrs. Travers simply because he had been very +lonely in that stockade, Mr. Travers having fallen into a phase +of sulks complicated with shivering fits. Of Lingard d'Alcacer +had seen almost nothing since they had landed, for the Man of +Fate was extremely busy negotiating in the recesses of Belarab's +main hut; and the thought that his life was being a matter of +arduous bargaining was not agreeable to Mr. d'Alcacer. The +Chief's dependents and the armed men garrisoning the stockade +paid very little attention to him apparently, and this gave him +the feeling of his captivity being very perfect and hopeless. +During the afternoon, while pacing to and fro in the bit of shade +thrown by the glorified sort of hut inside which Mr. Travers +shivered and sulked misanthropically, he had been aware of the +more distant verandahs becoming filled now and then by the +muffled forms of women of Belarab's household taking a distant +and curious view of the white man. All this was irksome. He found +his menaced life extremely difficult to get through. Yes, he +welcomed the arrival of Mrs. Travers who brought with her a +tragic note into the empty gloom. + +"Suspicion is not in my nature, Mrs. Travers, I assure you, and I +hope that you on your side will never suspect either my reserve +or my frankness. I respect the mysterious nature of your +conviction but hasn't Jorgenson given you some occasion to. . . +" + +"He hates me," said Mrs. Travers, and frowned at d'Alcacer's +incipient smile. "It isn't a delusion on my part. The worst is +that he hates me not for myself. I believe he is completely +indifferent to my existence. Jorgenson hates me because as it +were I represent you two who are in danger, because it is you two +that are the trouble and I . . . Well!" + +"Yes, yes, that's certain," said d'Alcacer, hastily. "But +Jorgenson is wrong in making you the scapegoat. For if you were +not here cool reason would step in and would make Lingard pause +in his passion to make a king out of an exile. If we were +murdered it would certainly make some stir in the world in time +and he would fall under the suspicion of complicity with those +wild and inhuman Moors. Who would regard the greatness of his +day-dreams, his engaged honour, his chivalrous feelings? Nothing +could save him from that suspicion. And being what he is, you +understand me, Mrs. Travers (but you know him much better than I +do), it would morally kill him." + +"Heavens!" whispered Mrs. Travers. "This has never occurred to +me." Those words seemed to lose themselves in the folds of the +scarf without reaching d'Alcacer, who continued in his gentle +tone: + +'"However, as it is, he will be safe enough whatever happens. He +will have your testimony to clear him." + +Mrs. Travers stood up, suddenly, but still careful to keep her +face covered, she threw the end of the scarf over her shoulder. + +"I fear that Jorgenson," she cried with suppressed passion. "One +can't understand what that man means to do. I think him so +dangerous that if I were, for instance, entrusted with a message +bearing on the situation, I would . . . suppress it." + +D'Alcacer was looking up from the seat, full of wonder. Mrs. +Travers appealed to him in a calm voice through the folds of the +scarf: + +"Tell me, Mr. d'Alcacer, you who can look on it calmly, wouldn't +I be right?" + +"Why, has Jorgenson told you anything?" + +"Directly--nothing, except a phrase or two which really I could +not understand. They seemed to have a hidden sense and he +appeared to attach some mysterious importance to them that he +dared not explain to me." + +"That was a risk on his part," exclaimed d'Alcacer. "And he +trusted you. Why you, I wonder!" + +"Who can tell what notions he has in his head? Mr. d'Alcacer, I +believe his only object is to call Captain Lingard away from us. +I understood it only a few minutes ago. It has dawned upon me. +All he wants is to call him off." + +"Call him off," repeated d'Alcacer, a little bewildered by the +aroused fire of her conviction. "I am sure I don't want him +called off any more than you do; and, frankly, I don't believe +Jorgenson has any such power. But upon the whole, and if you feel +that Jorgenson has the power, I would--yes, if I were in your +place I think I would suppress anything I could not understand." + +Mrs. Travers listened to the very end. Her eyes--they appeared +incredibly sombre to d'Alcacer--seemed to watch the fall of every +deliberate word and after he had ceased they remained still for +an appreciable time. Then she turned away with a gesture that +seemed to say: "So be it." + +D'Alcacer raised his voice suddenly after her. "Stay! Don't +forget that not only your husband's but my head, too, is being +played at that game. My judgment is not . . ." + +She stopped for a moment and freed her lips. In the profound +stillness of the courtyard her clear voice made the shadows at +the nearest fires stir a little with low murmurs of surprise. + +"Oh, yes, I remember whose heads I have to save," she cried. "But +in all the world who is there to save that man from himself?" + + + +V + +D'Alcacer sat down on the bench again. "I wonder what she knows," +he thought, "and I wonder what I have done." He wondered also how +far he had been sincere and how far affected by a very natural +aversion from being murdered obscurely by ferocious Moors with +all the circumstances of barbarity. It was a very naked death to +come upon one suddenly. It was robbed of all helpful illusions, +such as the free will of a suicide, the heroism of a warrior, or +the exaltation of a martyr. "Hadn't I better make some sort of +fight of it?" he debated with himself. He saw himself rushing at +the naked spears without any enthusiasm. Or wouldn't it be better +to go forth to meet his doom (somewhere outside the stockade on +that horrible beach) with calm dignity. "Pah! I shall be probably +speared through the back in the beastliest possible fashion," he +thought with an inward shudder. It was certainly not a shudder of +fear, for Mr. d'Alcacer attached no high value to life. It was a +shudder of disgust because Mr. d'Alcacer was a civilized man and +though he had no illusions about civilization he could not but +admit the superiority of its methods. It offered to one a certain +refinement of form, a comeliness of proceedings and definite +safeguards against deadly surprises. "How idle all this is," he +thought, finally. His next thought was that women were very +resourceful. It was true, he went on meditating with unwonted +cynicism, that strictly speaking they had only one resource but, +generally, it served--it served. + +He was surprised by his supremely shameless bitterness at this +juncture. It was so uncalled for. This situation was too +complicated to be entrusted to a cynical or shameless hope. There +was nothing to trust to. At this moment of his meditation he +became aware of Lingard's approach. He raised his head eagerly. +D'Alcacer was not indifferent to his fate and even to Mr. +Travers' fate. He would fain learn. . . . But one look at +Lingard's face was enough. "It's no use asking him anything," he +said to himself, "for he cares for nothing just now." + +Lingard sat down heavily on the other end of the bench, and +d'Alcacer, looking at his profile, confessed to himself that this +was the most masculinely good-looking face he had ever seen in +his life. It was an expressive face, too, but its present +expression was also beyond d'Alcacer's past experience. At the +same time its quietness set up a barrier against common +curiosities and even common fears. No, it was no use asking him +anything. Yet something should be said to break the spell, to +call down again this man to the earth. But it was Lingard who +spoke first. "Where has Mrs. Travers gone?" + +"She has gone . . . where naturally she would be anxious to go +first of all since she has managed to come to us," answered +d'Alcacer, wording his answer with the utmost regard for the +delicacy of the situation. + +The stillness of Lingard seemed to have grown even more +impressive. He spoke again. + +"I wonder what those two can have to say to each other." + +He might have been asking that of the whole darkened part of the +globe, but it was d'Alcacer who answered in his courteous tones. + +"Would it surprise you very much, Captain Lingard, if I were to +tell you that those two people are quite fit to understand each +other thoroughly? Yes? It surprises you! Well, I assure you that +seven thousand miles from here nobody would wonder." + +"I think I understand," said Lingard, "but don't you know the man +is light-headed? A man like that is as good as mad." + +"Yes, he had been slightly delirious since seven o'clock," said +d'Alcacer. "But believe me, Captain Lingard," he continued, +earnestly, and obeying a perfectly disinterested impulse, "that +even in his delirium he is far more understandable to her and +better able to understand her than . . . anybody within a hundred +miles from here." + +"Ah!" said Lingard without any emotion, "so you don't wonder. You +don't see any reason for wonder." + +"No, for, don't you see, I do know." + +"What do you know?" + +"Men and women, Captain Lingard, which you. . . ." + +"I don't know any woman." + +"You have spoken the strictest truth there," said d'Alcacer, and +for the first time Lingard turned his head slowly and looked at +his neighbour on the bench. + +"Do you think she is as good as mad, too?" asked Lingard in a +startled voice. + +D'Alcacer let escape a low exclamation. No, certainly he did not +think so. It was an original notion to suppose that lunatics had +a sort of common logic which made them understandable to each +other. D'Alcacer tried to make his voice as gentle as possible +while he pursued: "No, Captain Lingard, I believe the woman of +whom we speak is and will always remain in the fullest possession +of herself." + +Lingard, leaning back, clasped his hands round his knees. He +seemed not to be listening and d'Alcacer, pulling a cigarette +case out of his pocket, looked for a long time at the three +cigarettes it contained. It was the last of the provision he had +on him when captured. D'Alcacer had put himself on the strictest +allowance. A cigarette was only to be lighted on special +occasions; and now there were only three left and they had to be +made to last till the end of life. They calmed, they soothed, +they gave an attitude. And only three left! One had to be kept +for the morning, to be lighted before going through the gate of +doom--the gate of Belarab's stockade. A cigarette soothed, it +gave an attitude. Was this the fitting occasion for one of the +remaining two? D'Alcacer, a true Latin, was not afraid of a +little introspection. In the pause he descended into the +innermost depths of his being, then glanced up at the night sky. +Sportsman, traveller, he had often looked up at the stars before +to see how time went. It was going very slowly. He took out a +cigarette, snapped-to the case, bent down to the embers. Then he +sat up and blew out a thin cloud of smoke. The man by his side +looked with his bowed head and clasped knee like a masculine +rendering of mournful meditation. Such attitudes are met with +sometimes on the sculptures of ancient tombs. D'Alcacer began to +speak: + +"She is a representative woman and yet one of those of whom there +are but very few at any time in the world. Not that they are very +rare but that there is but little room on top. They are the +iridescent gleams on a hard and dark surface. For the world is +hard, Captain Lingard, it is hard, both in what it will remember +and in what it will forget. It is for such women that people toil +on the ground and underground and artists of all sorts invoke +their inspiration." + +Lingard seemed not to have heard a word. His chin rested on his +breast. D'Alcacer appraised the remaining length of his cigarette +and went on in an equable tone through which pierced a certain +sadness: + +"No, there are not many of them. And yet they are all. They +decorate our life for us. They are the gracious figures on the +drab wall which lies on this side of our common grave. They lead +a sort of ritual dance, that most of us have agreed to take +seriously. It is a very binding agreement with which sincerity +and good faith and honour have nothing to do. Very binding. Woe +to him or her who breaks it. Directly they leave the pageant they +get lost." + +Lingard turned his head sharply and discovered d'Alcacer looking +at him with profound attention. + +"They get lost in a maze," continued d'Alcacer, quietly. "They +wander in it lamenting over themselves. I would shudder at that +fate for anything I loved. Do you know, Captain Lingard, how +people lost in a maze end?" he went on holding Lingard by a +steadfast stare. "No? . . . I will tell you then. They end by +hating their very selves, and they die in disillusion and +despair." + +As if afraid of the force of his words d'Alcacer laid a soothing +hand lightly on Lingard's shoulder. But Lingard continued to look +into the embers at his feet and remained insensible to the +friendly touch. Yet d'Alcacer could not imagine that he had not +been heard. He folded his arms on his breast. + +"I don't know why I have been telling you all this," he said, +apologetically. "I hope I have not been intruding on your +thoughts." + +"I can think of nothing," Lingard declared, unexpectedly. "I only +know that your voice was friendly; and for the rest--" + +"One must get through a night like this somehow," said d'Alcacer. +"The very stars seem to lag on their way. It's a common belief +that a drowning man is irresistibly compelled to review his past +experience. Just now I feel quite out of my depth, and whatever I +have said has come from my experience. I am sure you will forgive +me. All that it amounts to is this: that it is natural for us to +cry for the moon but it would be very fatal to have our cries +heard. For what could any one of us do with the moon if it were +given to him? I am speaking now of us--common mortals." + +It was not immediately after d'Alcacer had ceased speaking but +only after a moment that Lingard unclasped his fingers, got up, +and walked away. D'Alcacer followed with a glance of quiet +interest the big, shadowy form till it vanished in the direction +of an enormous forest tree left in the middle of the stockade. +The deepest shade of the night was spread over the ground of +Belarab's fortified courtyard. The very embers of the fires had +turned black, showing only here and there a mere spark; and the +forms of the prone sleepers could hardly be distinguished from +the hard ground on which they rested, with their arms lying +beside them on the mats. Presently Mrs. Travers appeared quite +close to d'Alcacer, who rose instantly. + +"Martin is asleep," said Mrs. Travers in a tone that seemed to +have borrowed something of the mystery and quietness of the +night. + +"All the world's asleep," observed d'Alcacer, so low that Mrs. +Travers barely caught the words, "Except you and me, and one +other who has left me to wander about in the night." + +"Was he with you? Where has he gone?" + +"Where it's darkest I should think," answered d'Alcacer, +secretly. "It's no use going to look for him; but if you keep +perfectly still and hold your breath you may presently hear his +footsteps." + +"What did he tell you?" breathed out Mrs. Travers. + +"I didn't ask him anything. I only know that something has +happened which has robbed him of his power of thinking . . . +Hadn't I better go to the hut? Don Martin ought to have someone +with him when he wakes up." Mrs. Travers remained perfectly still +and even now and then held her breath with a vague fear of +hearing those footsteps wandering in the dark. D'Alcacer had +disappeared. Again Mrs. Travers held her breath. No. Nothing. Not +a sound. Only the night to her eyes seemed to have grown darker. +Was that a footstep? "Where could I hide myself?" she thought. +But she didn't move. + +After leaving d'Alcacer, Lingard threading his way between the +fires found himself under the big tree, the same tree against +which Daman had been leaning on the day of the great talk when +the white prisoners had been surrendered to Lingard's keeping on +definite conditions. Lingard passed through the deep obscurity +made by the outspread boughs of the only witness left there of a +past that for endless ages had seen no mankind on this shore +defended by the Shallows, around this lagoon overshadowed by the +jungle. In the calm night the old giant, without shudders or +murmurs in its enormous limbs, saw the restless man drift through +the black shade into the starlight. + +In that distant part of the courtyard there were only a few +sentries who, themselves invisible, saw Lingard's white figure +pace to and fro endlessly. They knew well who that was. It was +the great white man. A very great man. A very rich man. A +possessor of fire-arms, who could dispense valuable gifts and +deal deadly blows, the friend of their Ruler, the enemy of his +enemies, known to them for years and always mysterious. At their +posts, flattened against the stakes near convenient loopholes, +they cast backward glances and exchanged faint whispers from time +to time. + +Lingard might have thought himself alone. He had lost touch with +the world. What he had said to d'Alcacer was perfectly true. He +had no thought. He was in the state of a man who, having cast his +eyes through the open gates of Paradise, is rendered insensible +by that moment's vision to all the forms and matters of the +earth; and in the extremity of his emotion ceases even to look +upon himself but as the subject of a sublime experience which +exalts or unfits, sanctifies or damns--he didn't know which. +Every shadowy thought, every passing sensation was like a base +intrusion on that supreme memory. He couldn't bear it. + +When he had tried to resume his conversation with Belarab after +Mrs. Travers' arrival he had discovered himself unable to go on. +He had just enough self-control to break off the interview in +measured terms. He pointed out the lateness of the hour, a most +astonishing excuse to people to whom time is nothing and whose +life and activities are not ruled by the clock. Indeed Lingard +hardly knew what he was saying or doing when he went out again +leaving everybody dumb with astonishment at the change in his +aspect and in his behaviour. A suspicious silence reigned for a +long time in Belarab's great audience room till the Chief +dismissed everybody by two quiet words and a slight gesture. + +With her chin in her hand in the pose of a sybil trying to read +the future in the glow of dying embers, Mrs. Travers, without +holding her breath, heard quite close to her the footsteps which +she had been listening for with mingled alarm, remorse, and hope. + +She didn't change her attitude. The deep red glow lighted her up +dimly, her face, the white hand hanging by her side, her feet in +their sandals. The disturbing footsteps stopped close to her. + +"Where have you been all this time?" she asked, without looking +round. + +"I don't know," answered Lingard. He was speaking the exact +truth. He didn't know. Ever since he had released that woman from +his arms everything but the vaguest notions had departed from +him. Events, necessities, things--he had lost his grip on them +all. And he didn't care. They were futile and impotent; he had no +patience with them. The offended and astonished Belarab, +d'Alcacer with his kindly touch and friendly voice, the sleeping +men, the men awake, the Settlement full of unrestful life and the +restless Shallows of the coast, were removed from him into an +immensity of pitying contempt. Perhaps they existed. Perhaps all +this waited for him. Well, let all this wait; let everything +wait, till to-morrow or to the end of time, which could now come +at any moment for all he cared--but certainly till to-morrow. + +"I only know," he went on with an emphasis that made Mrs. Travers +raise her head, "that wherever I go I shall carry you with +me--against my breast." + +Mrs. Travers' fine ear caught the mingled tones of suppressed +exultation and dawning fear, the ardour and the faltering of +those words. She was feeling still the physical truth at the root +of them so strongly that she couldn't help saying in a dreamy +whisper: + +"Did you mean to crush the life out of me?" + +He answered in the same tone: + +"I could not have done it. You are too strong. Was I rough? I +didn't mean to be. I have been often told I didn't know my own +strength. You did not seem able to get through that opening and +so I caught hold of you. You came away in my hands quite easily. +Suddenly I thought to myself, 'now I will make sure.'" + +He paused as if his breath had failed him. Mrs. Travers dared not +make the slightest movement. Still in the pose of one in quest of +hidden truth she murmured, "Make sure?" + +"Yes. And now I am sure. You are here--here! Before I couldn't +tell." + +"Oh, you couldn't tell before," she said. + +"No." + +"So it was reality that you were seeking." + +He repeated as if speaking to himself: "And now I am sure." + +Her sandalled foot, all rosy in the glow, felt the warmth of the +embers. The tepid night had enveloped her body; and still under +the impression of his strength she gave herself up to a momentary +feeling of quietude that came about her heart as soft as the +night air penetrated by the feeble clearness of the stars. "This +is a limpid soul," she thought. + +"You know I always believed in you," he began again. "You know I +did. Well. I never believed in you so much as I do now, as you +sit there, just as you are, and with hardly enough light to make +you out by." + +It occurred to her that she had never heard a voice she liked so +well--except one. But that had been a great actor's voice; +whereas this man was nothing in the world but his very own self. +He persuaded, he moved, he disturbed, he soothed by his inherent +truth. He had wanted to make sure and he had made sure +apparently; and too weary to resist the waywardness of her +thoughts Mrs. Travers reflected with a sort of amusement that +apparently he had not been disappointed. She thought, "He +believes in me. What amazing words. Of all the people that might +have believed in me I had to find this one here. He believes in +me more than in himself." A gust of sudden remorse tore her out +from her quietness, made her cry out to him: + +"Captain Lingard, we forget how we have met, we forget what is +going on. We mustn't. I won't say that you placed your belief +wrongly but I have to confess something to you. I must tell you +how I came here to-night. Jorgenson . . ." + +He interrupted her forcibly but without raising his voice. + +"Jorgenson. Who's Jorgenson? You came to me because you couldn't +help yourself." + +This took her breath away. "But I must tell you. There is +something in my coming which is not clear to me." + +"You can tell me nothing that I don't know already," he said in a +pleading tone. "Say nothing. Sit still. Time enough to-morrow. +To-morrow! The night is drawing to an end and I care for nothing +in the world but you. Let me be. Give me the rest that is in +you." + +She had never heard such accents on his lips and she felt for him +a great and tender pity. Why not humour this mood in which he +wanted to preserve the moments that would never come to him again +on this earth? She hesitated in silence. She saw him stir in the +darkness as if he could not make up his mind to sit down on the +bench. But suddenly he scattered the embers with his foot and +sank on the ground against her feet, and she was not startled in +the least to feel the weight of his head on her knee. Mrs. +Travers was not startled but she felt profoundly moved. Why +should she torment him with all those questions of freedom and +captivity, of violence and intrigue, of life and death? He was +not in a state to be told anything and it seemed to her that she +did not want to speak, that in the greatness of her compassion +she simply could not speak. All she could do for him was to rest +her hand lightly on his head and respond silently to the slight +movement she felt, sigh or sob, but a movement which suddenly +immobilized her in an anxious emotion. + +About the same time on the other side of the lagoon Jorgenson, +raising his eyes, noted the stars and said to himself that the +night would not last long now. He wished for daylight. He hoped +that Lingard had already done something. The blaze in Tengga's +compound had been re-lighted. Tom's power was unbounded, +practically unbounded. And he was invulnerable. + +Jorgenson let his old eyes wander amongst the gleams and shadows +of the great sheet of water between him and that hostile shore +and fancied he could detect a floating shadow having the +characteristic shape of a man in a small canoe. + +"O! Ya! Man!" he hailed. "What do you want?" Other eyes, too, had +detected that shadow. Low murmurs arose on the deck of the Emma. +"If you don't speak at once I shall fire," shouted Jorgenson, +fiercely. + +"No, white man," returned the floating shape in a solemn drawl. +"I am the bearer of friendly words. A chief's words. I come from +Tengga." + +"There was a bullet that came on board not a long time ago--also +from Tengga," said Jorgenson. + +"That was an accident," protested the voice from the lagoon. +"What else could it be? Is there war between you and Tengga? No, +no, O white man! All Tengga desires is a long talk. He has sent +me to ask you to come ashore." + +At these words Jorgenson's heart sank a little. This invitation +meant that Lingard had made no move. Was Tom asleep or altogether +mad? + +"The talk would be of peace," declared impressively the shadow +which had drifted much closer to the hulk now. + +"It isn't for me to talk with great chiefs," Jorgenson returned, +cautiously. + +"But Tengga is a friend," argued the nocturnal messenger. "And by +that fire there are other friends--your friends, the Rajah Hassim +and the lady Immada, who send you their greetings and who expect +their eyes to rest on you before sunrise." + +"That's a lie," remarked Jorgenson, perfunctorily, and fell into +thought, while the shadowy bearer of words preserved a +scandalized silence, though, of course, he had not expected to be +believed for a moment. But one could never tell what a white man +would believe. He had wanted to produce the impression that +Hassim and Immada were the honoured guests of Tengga. It occurred +to him suddenly that perhaps Jorgenson didn't know anything of +the capture. And he persisted. + +"My words are all true, Tuan. The Rajah of Wajo and his sister +are with my master. I left them sitting by the fire on Tengga's +right hand. Will you come ashore to be welcomed amongst friends?" + +Jorgenson had been reflecting profoundly. His object was to gain +as much time as possible for Lingard's interference which indeed +could not fail to be effective. But he had not the slightest wish +to entrust himself to Tengga's friendliness. Not that he minded +the risk; but he did not see the use of taking it. + +"No!" he said, "I can't go ashore. We white men have ways of our +own and I am chief of this hulk. And my chief is the Rajah Laut, +a white man like myself. + +All the words that matter are in him and if Tengga is such a +great chief let him ask the Rajah Laut for a talk. Yes, that's +the proper thing for Tengga to do if he is such a great chief as +he says." + +"The Rajah Laut has made his choice. He dwells with Belarab, and +with the white people who are huddled together like trapped deer +in Belarab's stockade. Why shouldn't you meantime go over where +everything is lighted up and open and talk in friendship with +Tengga's friends, whose hearts have been made sick by many +doubts; Rajah Hassim and the lady Immada and Daman, the chief of +the men of the sea, who do not know now whom they can trust +unless it be you, Tuan, the keeper of much wealth?" + +The diplomatist in the small dugout paused for a moment to give +special weight to the final argument: + +"Which you have no means to defend. We know how many armed men +there are with you." + +"They are great fighters," Jorgenson observed, unconcernedly, +spreading his elbows on the rail and looking over at the floating +black patch of characteristic shape whence proceeded the voice of +the wily envoy of Tengga. "Each man of them is worth ten of such +as you can find in the Settlement." + +"Yes, by Allah. Even worth twenty of these common people. Indeed, +you have enough with you to make a great fight but not enough for +victory." + +"God alone gives victory," said suddenly the voice of Jaffir, +who, very still at Jorgenson's elbow, had been listening to the +conversation. + +"Very true," was the answer in an extremely conventional tone. +"Will you come ashore, O white man; and be the leader of chiefs?" + +"I have been that before," said Jorgenson, with great dignity, +"and now all I want is peace. But I won't come ashore amongst +people whose minds are so much troubled, till Rajah Hassim and +his sister return on board this ship and tell me the tale of +their new friendship with Tengga." + +His heart was sinking with every minute, the very air was growing +heavier with the sense of oncoming disaster, on that night that +was neither war nor peace and whose only voice was the voice of +Tengga's envoy, insinuating in tone though menacing in words. + +"No, that cannot be," said that voice. "But, Tuan, verily Tengga +himself is ready to come on board here to talk with you. He is +very ready to come and indeed, Tuan, he means to come on board +here before very long." + +"Yes, with fifty war-canoes filled with the ferocious rabble of +the Shore of Refuge," Jaffir was heard commenting, sarcastically, +over the rail; and a sinister muttered "It may be so," ascended +alongside from the black water. + +Jorgenson kept silent as if waiting for a supreme inspiration and +suddenly he spoke in his other-world voice: "Tell Tengga from me +that as long as he brings with him Rajah Hassim and the Rajah's +sister, he and his chief men will be welcome on deck here, no +matter how many boats come along with them. For that I do not +care. You may go now." + +A profound silence succeeded. It was clear that the envoy was +gone, keeping in the shadow of the shore. Jorgenson turned to +Jaffir. + +"Death amongst friends is but a festival," he quoted, mumbling in +his moustache. + +"It is, by Allah," assented Jaffir with sombre fervour. + + + +VI + +Thirty-six hours later Carter, alone with Lingard in the cabin of +the brig, could almost feel during a pause in his talk the +oppressive, the breathless peace of the Shallows awaiting another +sunset. + +"I never expected to see any of you alive," Carter began in his +easy tone, but with much less carelessness in his bearing as +though his days of responsibility amongst the Shoals of the Shore +of Refuge had matured his view of the external world and of his +own place therein. + +"Of course not," muttered Lingard. + +The listlessness of that man whom he had always seen acting under +the stress of a secret passion seemed perfectly appalling to +Carter's youthful and deliberate energy. Ever since he had found +himself again face to face with Lingard he had tried to conceal +the shocking impression with a delicacy which owed nothing to +training but was as intuitive as a child's. + +While justifying to Lingard his manner of dealing with the +situation on the Shore of Refuge, he could not for the life of +him help asking himself what was this new mystery. He was also +young enough to long for a word of commendation. + +"Come, Captain," he argued; "how would you have liked to come out +and find nothing but two half-burnt wrecks stuck on the +sands--perhaps?" + +He waited for a moment, then in sheer compassion turned away his +eyes from that fixed gaze, from that harassed face with sunk +cheeks, from that figure of indomitable strength robbed of its +fire. He said to himself: "He doesn't hear me," and raised his +voice without altering its self-contained tone: + +"I was below yesterday morning when we felt the shock, but the +noise came to us only as a deep rumble. I made one jump for the +companion but that precious Shaw was before me yelling, +'Earthquake! Earthquake!' and I am hanged if he didn't miss his +footing and land down on his head at the bottom of the stairs. I +had to stop to pick him up but I got on deck in time to see a +mighty black cloud that seemed almost solid pop up from behind +the forest like a balloon. It stayed there for quite a long time. +Some of our Calashes on deck swore to me that they had seen a red +flash above the tree-tops. But that's hard to believe. I guessed +at once that something had blown up on shore. My first thought +was that I would never see you any more and I made up my mind at +once to find out all the truth you have been keeping away from +me. No, sir! Don't you make a mistake! I wasn't going to give you +up, dead or alive." + +He looked hard at Lingard while saying these words and saw the +first sign of animation pass over that ravaged face. He saw even +its lips move slightly; but there was no sound, and Carter looked +away again. + +"Perhaps you would have done better by telling me everything; but +you left me behind on my own to be your man here. I put my hand +to the work I could see before me. I am a sailor. There were two +ships to look after. And here they are both for you, fit to go or +to stay, to fight or to run, as you choose." He watched with +bated breath the effort Lingard had to make to utter the two +words of the desired commendation: + +"Well done!" + +"And I am your man still," Carter added, impulsively, and +hastened to look away from Lingard, who had tried to smile at him +and had failed. Carter didn't know what to do next, remain in the +cabin or leave that unsupported strong man to himself. With a +shyness completely foreign to his character and which he could +not understand himself, he suggested in an engaging murmur and +with an embarrassed assumption of his right to give advice: + +"Why not lie down for a bit, sir? I can attend to anything that +may turn up. You seem done up, sir." + +He was facing Lingard, who stood on the other side of the table +in a leaning forward attitude propped up on rigid arms and stared +fixedly at him--perhaps? Carter felt on the verge of despair. +This couldn't last. He was relieved to see Lingard shake his head +slightly. + +"No, Mr. Carter. I think I will go on deck," said the Captain of +the famous brig Lightning, while his eyes roamed all over the +cabin. Carter stood aside at once, but it was some little time +before Lingard made a move. + +The sun had sunk already, leaving that evening no trace of its +glory on a sky clear as crystal and on the waters without a +ripple. All colour seemed to have gone out of the world. The +oncoming shadow rose as subtle as a perfume from the black coast +lying athwart the eastern semicircle; and such was the silence +within the horizon that one might have fancied oneself come to +the end of time. Black and toylike in the clear depths and the +final stillness of the evening the brig and the schooner lay +anchored in the middle of the main channel with their heads swung +the same way. Lingard, with his chin on his breast and his arms +folded, moved slowly here and there about the poop. Close and +mute like his shadow, Carter, at his elbow, followed his +movements. He felt an anxious solicitude. . . . + +It was a sentiment perfectly new to him. He had never before felt +this sort of solicitude about himself or any other man. His +personality was being developed by new experience, and as he was +very simple he received the initiation with shyness and +self-mistrust. He had noticed with innocent alarm that Lingard +had not looked either at the sky or over the sea, neither at his +own ship nor the schooner astern; not along the decks, not aloft, +not anywhere. He had looked at nothing! And somehow Carter felt +himself more lonely and without support than when he had been +left alone by that man in charge of two ships entangled amongst +the Shallows and environed by some sinister mystery. Since that +man had come back, instead of welcome relief Carter felt his +responsibility rest on his young shoulders with tenfold weight. +His profound conviction was that Lingard should be roused. + +"Captain Lingard," he burst out in desperation; "you can't say I +have worried you very much since this morning when I received you +at the side, but I must be told something. What is it going to be +with us? Fight or run?" + +Lingard stopped short and now there was no doubt in Carter's mind +that the Captain was looking at him. There was no room for any +doubt before that stern and enquiring gaze. "Aha!" thought +Carter. "This has startled him"; and feeling that his shyness had +departed he pursued his advantage. "For the fact of the matter +is, sir, that, whatever happens, unless I am to be your man you +will have no officer. I had better tell you at once that I have +bundled that respectable, crazy, fat Shaw out of the ship. He was +upsetting all hands. Yesterday I told him to go and get his +dunnage together because I was going to send him aboard the +yacht. He couldn't have made more uproar about it if I had +proposed to chuck him overboard. I warned him that if he didn't +go quietly I would have him tied up like a sheep ready for +slaughter. However, he went down the ladder on his own feet, +shaking his fist at me and promising to have me hanged for a +pirate some day. He can do no harm on board the yacht. And now, +sir, it's for you to give orders and not for me--thank God!" + +Lingard turned away, abruptly. Carter didn't budge. After a +moment he heard himself called from the other side of the deck +and obeyed with alacrity. + +"What's that story of a man you picked up on the coast last +evening?" asked Lingard in his gentlest tone. "Didn't you tell me +something about it when I came on board?" + +"I tried to," said Carter, frankly. "But I soon gave it up. You +didn't seem to pay any attention to what I was saying. I thought +you wanted to be left alone for a bit. What can I know of your +ways, yet, sir? Are you aware, Captain Lingard, that since this +morning I have been down five times at the cabin door to look at +you? There you sat. . . ." + +He paused and Lingard said: "You have been five times down in the +cabin?" + +"Yes. And the sixth time I made up my mind to make you take some +notice of me. I can't be left without orders. There are two ships +to look after, a lot of things to be done. . . ." + +"There is nothing to be done," Lingard interrupted with a mere +murmur but in a tone which made Carter keep silent for a while. + +"Even to know that much would have been something to go by," he +ventured at last. "I couldn't let you sit there with the sun +getting pretty low and a long night before us." + +"I feel stunned yet," said Lingard, looking Carter straight in +the face, as if to watch the effect of that confession. + +"Were you very near that explosion?" asked the young man with +sympathetic curiosity and seeking for some sign on Lingard's +person. But there was nothing. Not a single hair of the Captain's +head seemed to have been singed. + +"Near," muttered Lingard. "It might have been my head." He +pressed it with both hands, then let them fall. "What about that +man?" he asked, brusquely. "Where did he come from? . . . I +suppose he is dead now," he added in an envious tone. + +"No, sir. He must have as many lives as a cat," answered Carter. +"I will tell you how it was. As I said before I wasn't going to +give you up, dead or alive, so yesterday when the sun went down a +little in the afternoon I had two of our boats manned and pulled +in shore, taking soundings to find a passage if there was one. I +meant to go back and look for you with the brig or without the +brig--but that doesn't matter now. There were three or four +floating logs in sight. One of the Calashes in my boat made out +something red on one of them. I thought it was worth while to go +and see what it was. It was that man's sarong. It had got +entangled among the branches and prevented him rolling off into +the water. I was never so glad, I assure you, as when we found +out that he was still breathing. If we could only nurse him back +to life, I thought, he could perhaps tell me a lot of things. The +log on which he hung had come out of the mouth of the creek and +he couldn't have been more than half a day on it by my +calculation. I had him taken down the main hatchway and put into +a hammock in the 'tween-decks. He only just breathed then, but +some time during the night he came to himself and got out of the +hammock to lie down on a mat. I suppose he was more comfortable +that way. He recovered his speech only this morning and I went +down at once and told you of it, but you took no notice. I told +you also who he was but I don't know whether you heard me or +not." + +"I don't remember," said Lingard under his breath. + +"They are wonderful, those Malays. This morning he was only half +alive, if that much, and now I understand he has been talking to +Wasub for an hour. Will you go down to see him, sir, or shall I +send a couple of men to carry him on deck?" + +Lingard looked bewildered for a moment. + +"Who on earth is he?" he asked. + +"Why, it's that fellow whom you sent out, that night I met you, +to catch our first gig. What do they call him? Jaffir, I think. +Hasn't he been with you ashore, sir? Didn't he find you with the +letter I gave him for you? A most determined looking chap. I knew +him again the moment we got him off the log." + +Lingard seized hold of the royal backstay within reach of his +hand. Jaffir! Jaffir! Faithful above all others; the messenger of +supreme moments; the reckless and devoted servant! Lingard felt a +crushing sense of despair. "No, I can't face this," he whispered +to himself, looking at the coast black as ink now before his eyes +in the world's shadow that was slowly encompassing the grey +clearness of the Shallow Waters. "Send Wasub to me. I am going +down into the cabin." + +He crossed over to the companion, then checking himself suddenly: +"Was there a boat from the yacht during the day?" he asked as if +struck by a sudden thought.--"No, sir," answered Carter. "We had +no communication with the yacht to-day."--"Send Wasub to me," +repeated Lingard in a stern voice as he went down the stairs. + +The old serang coming in noiselessly saw his Captain as he had +seen him many times before, sitting under the gilt thunderbolts, +apparently as strong in his body, in his wealth, and in his +knowledge of secret words that have a power over men and +elements, as ever. The old Malay squatted down within a couple of +feet from Lingard, leaned his back against the satinwood panel of +the bulkhead, then raising his old eyes with a watchful and +benevolent expression to the white man's face, clasped his hands +between his knees. + +"Wasub, you have learned now everything. Is there no one left +alive but Jaffir? Are they all dead?" + +"May you live!" answered Wasub; and Lingard whispered an appalled +"All dead!" to which Wasub nodded slightly twice. His cracked +voice had a lamenting intonation. "It is all true! It is all +true! You are left alone, Tuan; you are left alone!" + +"It was their destiny," said Lingard at last, with forced +calmness. "But has Jaffir told you of the manner of this +calamity? How is it that he alone came out alive from it to be +found by you?" + +"He was told by his lord to depart and he obeyed," began Wasub, +fixing his eyes on the deck and speaking just loud enough to be +heard by Lingard, who, bending forward in his seat, shrank +inwardly from every word and yet would not have missed a single +one of them for anything. + +For the catastrophe had fallen on his head like a bolt from the +blue in the early morning hours of the day before. At the first +break of dawn he had been sent for to rsum his talk with +Belarab. He had felt suddenly Mrs. Travers remove her hand from +his head. Her voice speaking intimately into his ear: "Get up. +There are some people coming," had recalled him to himself. He +had got up from the ground. The light was dim, the air full of +mist; and it was only gradually that he began to make out forms +above his head and about his feet: trees, houses, men sleeping on +the ground. He didn't recognize them. It was but a cruel change +of dream. Who could tell what was real in this world? He looked +about him, dazedly; he was still drunk with the deep draught of +oblivion he had conquered for himself. Yes--but it was she who +had let him snatch the cup. He looked down at the woman on the +bench. She moved not. She had remained like that, still for +hours, giving him a waking dream of rest without end, in an +infinity of happiness without sound and movement, without +thought, without joy; but with an infinite ease of content, like +a world-embracing reverie breathing the air of sadness and +scented with love. For hours she had not moved. + +"You are the most generous of women," he said. He bent over her. +Her eyes were wide open. Her lips felt cold. It did not shock +him. After he stood up he remained near her. Heat is a consuming +thing, but she with her cold lips seemed to him +indestructible--and, perhaps, immortal! + +Again he stooped, but this time it was only to kiss the fringe of +her head scarf. Then he turned away to meet the three men, who, +coming round the corner of the hut containing the prisoners, were +approaching him with measured steps. They desired his presence in +the Council room. Belarab was awake. + +They also expressed their satisfaction at finding the white man +awake, because Belarab wanted to impart to him information of the +greatest importance. It seemed to Lingard that he had been awake +ever since he could remember. It was as to being alive that he +felt not so sure. He had no doubt of his existence; but was this +life--this profound indifference, this strange contempt for what +his eyes could see, this distaste for words, this unbelief in the +importance of things and men? He tried to regain possession of +himself, his old self which had things to do, words to speak as +well as to hear. But it was too difficult. He was seduced away by +the tense feeling of existence far superior to the mere +consciousness of life, and which in its immensity of +contradictions, delight, dread, exultation and despair could not +be faced and yet was not to be evaded. There was no peace in it. +But who wanted peace? Surrender was better, the dreadful ease of +slack limbs in the sweep of an enormous tide and in a divine +emptiness of mind. If this was existence then he knew that he +existed. And he knew that the woman existed, too, in the sweep of +the tide, without speech, without movement, without heat! +Indestructible--and, perhaps, immortal! + + + +VII + +With the sublime indifference of a man who has had a glimpse +through the open doors of Paradise and is no longer careful of +mere life, Lingard had followed Belarab's anxious messengers. The +stockade was waking up in a subdued resonance of voices. Men were +getting up from the ground, fires were being rekindled. Draped +figures flitted in the mist amongst the buildings; and through +the mat wall of a bamboo house Lingard heard the feeble wailing +of a child. A day of mere life was beginning; but in the Chief's +great Council room several wax candles and a couple of cheap +European lamps kept the dawn at bay, while the morning mist which +could not be kept out made a faint reddish halo round every +flame. + +Belarab was not only awake, but he even looked like a man who had +not slept for a long time. The creator of the Shore of Refuge, +the weary Ruler of the Settlement, with his scorn of the unrest +and folly of men, was angry with his white friend who was always +bringing his desires and his troubles to his very door. Belarab +did not want any one to die but neither did he want any one in +particular to live. What he was concerned about was to preserve +the mystery and the power of his melancholy hesitations. These +delicate things were menaced by Lingard's brusque movements, by +that passionate white man who believed in more than one God and +always seemed to doubt the power of Destiny. Belarab was +profoundly annoyed. He was also genuinely concerned, for he liked +Lingard. He liked him not only for his strength, which protected +his clear-minded scepticism from those dangers that beset all +rulers, but he liked him also for himself. That man of infinite +hesitations, born from a sort of mystic contempt for Allah's +creation, yet believed absolutely both in Lingard's power and in +his boldness. Absolutely. And yet, in the marvellous consistency +of his temperament, now that the moment had come, he dreaded to +put both power and fortitude to the test. + +Lingard could not know that some little time before the first +break of dawn one of Belarab's spies in the Settlement had found +his way inside the stockade at a spot remote from the lagoon, and +that a very few moments after Lingard had left the Chief in +consequence of Jorgenson's rockets, Belarab was listening to an +amazing tale of Hassim and Immada's capture and of Tengga's +determination, very much strengthened by that fact, to obtain +possession of the Emma, either by force or by negotiation, or by +some crafty subterfuge in which the Rajah and his sister could be +made to play their part. In his mistrust of the universe, which +seemed almost to extend to the will of God himself, Belarab was +very much alarmed, for the material power of Daman's piratical +crowd was at Tengga's command; and who could tell whether this +Wajo Rajah would remain loyal in the circumstances? It was also +very characteristic of him whom the original settlers of the +Shore of Refuge called the Father of Safety, that he did not say +anything of this to Lingard, for he was afraid of rousing +Lingard's fierce energy which would even carry away himself and +all his people and put the peace of so many years to the sudden +hazard of a battle. + +Therefore Belarab set himself to persuade Lingard on general +considerations to deliver the white men, who really belonged to +Daman, to that supreme Chief of the Illanuns and by this simple +proceeding detach him completely from Tengga. Why should he, +Belarab, go to war against half the Settlement on their account? +It was not necessary, it was not reasonable. It would be even in +a manner a sin to begin a strife in a community of True +Believers. Whereas with an offer like that in his hand he could +send an embassy to Tengga who would see there at once the +downfall of his purposes and the end of his hopes. At once! That +moment! . . . Afterward the question of a ransom could be +arranged with Daman in which he, Belarab, would mediate in the +fullness of his recovered power, without a rival and in the +sincerity of his heart. And then, if need be, he could put forth +all his power against the chief of the sea-vagabonds who would, +as a matter of fact, be negotiating under the shadow of the +sword. + +Belarab talked, low-voiced and dignified, with now and then a +subtle intonation, a persuasive inflexion or a half-melancholy +smile in the course of the argument. What encouraged him most was +the changed aspect of his white friend. The fierce power of his +personality seemed to have turned into a dream. Lingard listened, +growing gradually inscrutable in his continued silence, but +remaining gentle in a sort of rapt patience as if lapped in the +wings of the Angel of Peace himself. Emboldened by that +transformation, Belarab's counsellors seated on the mats murmured +loudly their assent to the views of the Chief. Through the +thickening white mist of tropical lands, the light of the +tropical day filtered into the hall. One of the wise men got up +from the floor and with prudent fingers began extinguishing the +waxlights one by one. He hesitated to touch the lamps, the flames +of which looked yellow and cold. A puff of the morning breeze +entered the great room, faint and chill. Lingard, facing Belarab +in a wooden armchair, with slack limbs and in the divine +emptiness of a mind enchanted by a glimpse of Paradise, shuddered +profoundly. + +A strong voice shouted in the doorway without any ceremony and +with a sort of jeering accent: + +"Tengga's boats are out in the mist." + +Lingard half rose from his seat, Belarab himself could not +repress a start. Lingard's attitude was a listening one, but +after a moment of hesitation he ran out of the hall. The inside +of the stockade was beginning to buzz like a disturbed hive. + +Outside Belarab's house Lingard slowed his pace. The mist still +hung. A great sustained murmur pervaded it and the blurred forms +of men were all moving outward from the centre toward the +palisades. Somewhere amongst the buildings a gong clanged. +D'Alcacer's raised voice was heard: + +"What is happening?" + +Lingard was passing then close to the prisoners' house. There was +a group of armed men below the verandah and above their heads he +saw Mrs. Travers by the side of d'Alcacer. The fire by which +Lingard had spent the night was extinguished, its embers +scattered, and the bench itself lay overturned. Mrs. Travers must +have run up on the verandah at the first alarm. She and d'Alcacer +up there seemed to dominate the tumult which was now subsiding. +Lingard noticed the scarf across Mrs. Travers' face. D'Alcacer +was bareheaded. He shouted again: + +"What's the matter?" + +"I am going to see," shouted Lingard back. + +He resisted the impulse to join those two, dominate the tumult, +let it roll away from under his feet--the mere life of men, vain +like a dream and interfering with the tremendous sense of his own +existence. He resisted it, he could hardly have told why. Even +the sense of self-preservation had abandoned him. There was a +throng of people pressing close about him yet careful not to get +in his way. Surprise, concern, doubt were depicted on all those +faces; but there were some who observed that the great white man +making his way to the lagoon side of the stockade wore a fixed +smile. He asked at large: + +"Can one see any distance over the water?" + +One of Belarab's headmen who was nearest to him answered: + +"The mist has thickened. If you see anything, Tuan, it will be +but a shadow of things." + +The four sides of the stockade had been manned by that time. +Lingard, ascending the banquette, looked out and saw the lagoon +shrouded in white, without as much as a shadow on it, and so +still that not even the sound of water lapping the shore reached +his ears. He found himself in profound accord with this blind and +soundless peace. + +"Has anything at all been seen?" he asked incredulously. + +Four men were produced at once who had seen a dark mass of boats +moving in the light of the dawn. Others were sent for. He hardly +listened to them. His thought escaped him and he stood +motionless, looking out into the unstirring mist pervaded by the +perfect silence. Presently Belarab joined him, escorted by three +grave, swarthy men, himself dark-faced, stroking his short grey +beard with impenetrable composure. He said to Lingard, "Your +white man doesn't fight," to which Lingard answered, "There is +nothing to fight against. What your people have seen, Belarab, +were indeed but shadows on the water." Belarab murmured, "You +ought to have allowed me to make friends with Daman last night." + +A faint uneasiness was stealing into Lingard's breast. + +A moment later d'Alcacer came up, inconspicuously watched over by +two men with lances, and to his anxious inquiry Lingard said: "I +don't think there is anything going on. Listen how still +everything is. The only way of bringing the matter to a test +would be to persuade Belarab to let his men march out and make an +attack on Tengga's stronghold this moment. Then we would learn +something. But I couldn't persuade Belarab to march out into this +fog. Indeed, an expedition like this might end badly. I myself +don't believe that all Tengga's people are on the lagoon. . . . +Where is Mrs. Travers?" + +The question made d'Alcacer start by its abruptness which +revealed the woman's possession of that man's mind. "She is with +Don Martin, who is better but feels very weak. If we are to be +given up, he will have to be carried out to his fate. I can +depict to myself the scene. Don Martin carried shoulder high +surrounded by those barbarians with spears, and Mrs. Travers with +myself walking on each side of the stretcher. Mrs. Travers has +declared to me her intention to go out with us." + +"Oh, she has declared her intention," murmured Lingard, +absent-mindedly. + +D'Alcacer felt himself completely abandoned by that man. And +within two paces of him he noticed the group of Belarab and his +three swarthy attendants in their white robes, preserving an air +of serene detachment. For the first time since the stranding on +the coast d'Alcacer's heart sank within him. "But perhaps," he +went on, "this Moor may not in the end insist on giving us up to +a cruel death, Captain Lingard." + +"He wanted to give you up in the middle of the night, a few hours +ago," said Lingard, without even looking at d'Alcacer who raised +his hands a little and let them fall. Lingard sat down on the +breech of a heavy piece mounted on a naval carriage so as to +command the lagoon. He folded his arms on his breast. D'Alcacer +asked, gently: + +"We have been reprieved then?" + +"No," said Lingard. "It's I who was reprieved." + +A long silence followed. Along the whole line of the manned +stockade the whisperings had ceased. The vibrations of the gong +had died out, too. Only the watchers perched in the highest +boughs of the big tree made a slight rustle amongst the leaves. + +"What are you thinking of, Captain Lingard?" d'Alcacer asked in a +low voice. Lingard did not change his position. + +"I am trying to keep it off," he said in the same tone. + +"What? Trying to keep thought off?" + +"Yes." + +"Is this the time for such experiments?" asked d'Alcacer. + +"Why not? It's my reprieve. Don't grudge it to me, Mr. +d'Alcacer." + +"Upon my word I don't. But isn't it dangerous?" + +"You will have to take your chance." + +D'Alcacer had a moment of internal struggle. He asked himself +whether he should tell Lingard that Mrs. Travers had come to the +stockade with some sort of message from Jorgenson. He had it on +the tip of his tongue to advise Lingard to go and see Mrs. +Travers and ask her point blank whether she had anything to tell +him; but before he could make up his mind the voices of invisible +men high up in the tree were heard reporting the thinning of the +fog. This caused a stir to run along the four sides of the +stockade. + +Lingard felt the draught of air in his face, the motionless mist +began to drive over the palisades and, suddenly, the lagoon came +into view with a great blinding glitter of its wrinkled surface +and the faint sound of its wash rising all along the shore. A +multitude of hands went up to shade the eager eyes, and +exclamations of wonder burst out from many men at the sight of a +crowd of canoes of various sizes and kinds lying close together +with the effect as of an enormous raft, a little way off the side +of the Emma. The excited voices rose higher and higher. There was +no doubt about Tengga's being on the lagoon. But what was +Jorgenson about? The Emma lay as if abandoned by her keeper and +her crew, while the mob of mixed boats seemed to be meditating an +attack. + +For all his determination to keep thought off to the very last +possible moment, Lingard could not defend himself from a sense of +wonder and fear. What was Jorgenson about? For a moment Lingard +expected the side of the Emma to wreath itself in puffs of smoke, +but an age seemed to elapse without the sound of a shot reaching +his ears. + +The boats were afraid to close. They were hanging off, +irresolute; but why did Jorgenson not put an end to their +hesitation by a volley or two of musketry if only over their +heads? Through the anguish of his perplexity Lingard found +himself returning to life, to mere life with its sense of pain +and mortality, like a man awakened from a dream by a stab in the +breast. What did this silence of the Emma mean? Could she have +been already carried in the fog? But that was unthinkable. Some +sounds of resistance must have been heard. No, the boats hung off +because they knew with what desperate defence they would meet; +and perhaps Jorgenson knew very well what he was doing by holding +his fire to the very last moment and letting the craven hearts +grow cold with the fear of a murderous discharge that would have +to be faced. What was certain was that this was the time for +Belarab to open the great gate and let his men go out, display +his power, sweep through the further end of the Settlement, +destroy Tengga's defences, do away once for all with the absurd +rivalry of that intriguing amateur boat-builder. Lingard turned +eagerly toward Belarab but saw the Chief busy looking across the +lagoon through a long glass resting on the shoulder of a stooping +slave. He was motionless like a carving. Suddenly he let go the +long glass which some ready hands caught as it fell and said to +Lingard: + +"No fight." + +"How do you know?" muttered Lingard, astounded, + +"There are three empty sampans alongside the ladder," said +Belarab in a just audible voice. "There is bad talk there." + +"Talk? I don't understand," said Lingard, slowly. + +But Belarab had turned toward his three attendants in white +robes, with shaven polls under skull-caps of plaited grass, with +prayer beads hanging from their wrists, and an air of superior +calm on their dark faces: companions of his desperate days, men +of blood once and now imperturbable in their piety and wisdom of +trusted counsellors. + +"This white man is being betrayed," he murmured to them with the +greatest composure. + +D'Alcacer, uncomprehending, watched the scene: the Man of Fate +puzzled and fierce like a disturbed lion, the white-robed Moors, +the multitude of half-naked barbarians, squatting by the guns, +standing by the loopholes in the immobility of an arranged +display. He saw Mrs. Travers on the verandah of the prisoners' +house, an anxious figure with a white scarf over her head. Mr. +Travers was no doubt too weak after his fit of fever to come +outside. If it hadn't been for that, all the whites would have +been in sight of each other at the very moment of the catastrophe +which was to give them back to the claims of their life, at the +cost of other lives sent violently out of the world. D'Alcacer +heard Lingard asking loudly for the long glass and saw Belarab +make a sign with his hand, when he felt the earth receive a +violent blow from underneath. While he staggered to it the +heavens split over his head with a crash in the lick of a red +tongue of flame; and a sudden dreadful gloom fell all round the +stunned d'Alcacer, who beheld with terror the morning sun, robbed +of its rays, glow dull and brown through the sombre murk which +had taken possession of the universe. The Emma had blown up; and +when the rain of shattered timbers and mangled corpses falling +into the lagoon had ceased, the cloud of smoke hanging motionless +under the livid sun cast its shadow afar on the Shore of Refuge +where all strife had come to an end. + +A great wail of terror ascended from the Settlement and was +succeeded by a profound silence. People could be seen bolting in +unreasoning panic away from the houses and into the fields. On +the lagoon the raft of boats had broken up. Some of them were +sinking, others paddling away in all directions. What was left +above water of the Emma had burst into a clear flame under the +shadow of the cloud, the great smoky cloud that hung solid and +unstirring above the tops of the forest, visible for miles up and +down the coast and over the Shallows. + +The first person to recover inside the stockade was Belarab +himself. Mechanically he murmured the exclamation of wonder, "God +is great," and looked at Lingard. But Lingard was not looking at +him. The shock of the explosion had robbed him of speech and +movement. He stared at the Emma blazing in a distant and +insignificant flame under the sinister shadow of the cloud +created by Jorgenson's mistrust and contempt for the life of men. +Belarab turned away. His opinion had changed. He regarded Lingard +no longer as a betrayed man but the effect was the same. He was +no longer a man of any importance. What Belarab really wanted now +was to see all the white people clear out of the lagoon as soon +as possible. Presently he ordered the gate to be thrown open and +his armed men poured out to take possession of the Settlement. +Later Tengga's houses were set on fire and Belarab, mounting a +fiery pony, issued forth to make a triumphal progress surrounded +by a great crowd of headmen and guards. + +That night the white people left the stockade in a cortege of +torch bearers. Mr. Travers had to be carried down to the beach, +where two of Belarab's war-boats awaited their distinguished +passengers. Mrs. Travers passed through the gate on d'Alcacer's +arm. Her face was half veiled. She moved through the throng of +spectators displayed in the torchlight looking straight before +her. Belarab, standing in front of a group of headmen, pretended +not to see the white people as they went by. With Lingard he +shook hands, murmuring the usual formulas of friendship; and when +he heard the great white man say, "You shall never see me again," +he felt immensely relieved. Belarab did not want to see that +white man again, but as he responded to the pressure of Lingard's +hand he had a grave smile. + +"God alone knows the future," he said. + +Lingard walked to the beach by himself, feeling a stranger to all +men and abandoned by the All-Knowing God. By that time the first +boat with Mr. and Mrs. Travers had already got away out of the +blood-red light thrown by the torches upon the water. D'Alcacer +and Lingard followed in the second. Presently the dark shade of +the creek, walled in by the impenetrable forest, closed round +them and the splash of the paddles echoed in the still, damp air. + +"How do you think this awful accident happened?" asked d'Alcacer, +who had been sitting silent by Lingard's side. + +"What is an accident?" said Lingard with a great effort. "Where +did you hear of such a thing? Accident! Don't disturb me, Mr. +d'Alcacer. I have just come back to life and it has closed on me +colder and darker than the grave itself. Let me get used . . . I +can't bear the sound of a human voice yet." + + + +VIII + +And now, stoical in the cold and darkness of his regained life, +Lingard had to listen to the voice of Wasub telling him Jaffir's +story. The old serang's face expressed a profound dejection and +there was infinite sadness in the flowing murmur of his words. + +"Yes, by Allah! They were all there: that tyrannical Tengga, +noisy like a fool; the Rajah Hassim, a ruler without a country; +Daman, the wandering chief, and the three Pangerans of the +sea-robbers. They came on board boldly, for Tuan Jorgenson had +given them permission, and their talk was that you, Tuan, were a +willing captive in Belarab's stockade. They said they had waited +all night for a message of peace from you or from Belarab. But +there was nothing, and with the first sign of day they put out on +the lagoon to make friends with Tuan Jorgenson; for, they said, +you, Tuan, were as if you had not been, possessing no more power +than a dead man, the mere slave of these strange white people, +and Belarab's prisoner. Thus Tengga talked. God had taken from +him all wisdom and all fear. And then he must have thought he was +safe while Rajah Hassim and the lady Immada were on board. I tell +you they sat there in the midst of your enemies, captive! The +lady Immada, with her face covered, mourned to herself. The Rajah +Hassim made a sign to Jaffir and Jaffir came to stand by his side +and talked to his lord. The main hatch was open and many of the +Illanuns crowded there to look down at the goods that were inside +the ship. They had never seen so much loot in their lives. Jaffir +and his lord could hear plainly Tuan Jorgenson and Tengga talking +together. Tengga discoursed loudly and his words were the words +of a doomed man, for he was asking Tuan Jorgenson to give up the +arms and everything that was on board the Emma to himself and to +Daman. And then, he said, 'We shall fight Belarab and make +friends with these strange white people by behaving generously to +them and letting them sail away unharmed to their own country. We +don't want them here. You, Tuan Jorgenson, are the only white man +I care for.' They heard Tuan Jorgenson say to Tengga: 'Now you +have told me everything there is in your mind you had better go +ashore with your friends and return to-morrow.' And Tengga asked: +'Why! would you fight me to-morrow rather than live many days in +peace with me?' and he laughed and slapped his thigh. And Tuan +Jorgenson answered: + +"'No, I won't fight you. But even a spider will give the fly time +to say its prayers.' + +"Tuan Jorgenson's voice sounded very strange and louder than ever +anybody had heard it before. O Rajah Laut, Jaffir and the white +man had been waiting, too, all night for some sign from you; a +shot fired or a signal-fire, lighted to strengthen their hearts. +There had been nothing. Rajah Hassim, whispering, ordered Jaffir +to take the first opportunity to leap overboard and take to you +his message of friendship and good-bye. Did the Rajah and Jaffir +know what was coming? Who can tell? But what else could they see +than calamity for all Wajo men, whatever Tuan Jorgenson had made +up his mind to do? Jaffir prepared to obey his lord, and yet with +so many enemies' boats in the water he did not think he would +ever reach the shore; and as to yourself he was not at all sure +that you were still alive. But he said nothing of this to his +Rajah. Nobody was looking their way. Jaffir pressed his lord's +hand to his breast and waited his opportunity. The fog began to +blow away and presently everything was disclosed to the sight. +Jorgenson was on his feet, he was holding a lighted cigar between +his fingers. Tengga was sitting in front of him on one of the +chairs the white people had used. His followers were pressing +round him, with Daman and Sentot, who were muttering +incantations; and even the Pangerans had moved closer to the +hatchway. Jaffir's opportunity had come but he lingered by the +side of his Rajah. In the clear air the sun shone with great +force. Tuan Jorgenson looked once more toward Belarab's stockade, +O Rajah Laut! But there was nothing there, not even a flag +displayed that had not been there before. Jaffir looked that way, +too, and as he turned his head he saw Tuan Jorgenson, in the +midst of twenty spear-blades that could in an instant have been +driven into his breast, put the cigar in his mouth and jump down +the hatchway. At that moment Rajah Hassim gave Jaffir a push +toward the side and Jaffir leaped overboard. + +"He was still in the water when all the world was darkened round +him as if the life of the sun had been blown out of it in a +crash. A great wave came along and washed him on shore, while +pieces of wood, iron, and the limbs of torn men were splashing +round him in the water. He managed to crawl out of the mud. +Something had hit him while he was swimming and he thought he +would die. But life stirred in him. He had a message for you. For +a long time he went on crawling under the big trees on his hands +and knees, for there is no rest for a messenger till the message +is delivered. At last he found himself on the left bank of the +creek. + +And still he felt life stir in him. So he started to swim across, +for if you were in this world you were on the other side. While +he swam he felt his strength abandoning him. He managed to +scramble on to a drifting log and lay on it like one who is dead, +till we pulled him into one of our boats." + +Wasub ceased. It seemed to Lingard that it was impossible for +mortal man to suffer more than he suffered in the succeeding +moment of silence crowded by the mute images as of universal +destruction. He felt himself gone to pieces as though the violent +expression of Jorgenson's intolerable mistrust of the life of men +had shattered his soul, leaving his body robbed of all power of +resistance and of all fortitude, a prey forever to infinite +remorse and endless regrets. + +"Leave me, Wasub," he said. "They are all dead--but I would +sleep." + +Wasub raised his dumb old eyes to the white man's face. + +"Tuan, it is necessary that you should hear Jaffir," he said, +patiently. + +"Is he going to die?" asked Lingard in a low, cautious tone as +though he were afraid of the sound of his own voice. + +"Who can tell?" Wasub's voice sounded more patient than ever. +"There is no wound on his body but, O Tuan, he does not wish to +live." + +"Abandoned by his God," muttered Lingard to himself. + +Wasub waited a little before he went on, "And, Tuan, he has a +message for you." + +"Of course. Well, I don't want to hear it." + +"It is from those who will never speak to you again," Wasub +persevered, sadly. "It is a great trust. A Rajah's own words. It +is difficult for Jaffir to die. He keeps on muttering about a +ring that was for you, and that he let pass out of his care. It +was a great talisman!" + +"Yes. But it did not work this time. And if I go and tell Jaffir +why he will be able to tell his Rajah, O Wasub, since you say +that he is going to die. . . . I wonder where they will meet," he +muttered to himself. + +Once more Wasub raised his eyes to Lingard's face. "Paradise is +the lot of all True Believers," he whispered, firm in his simple +faith. + +The man who had been undone by a glimpse of Paradise exchanged a +profound look with the old Malay. Then he got up. On his passage +to the main hatchway the commander of the brig met no one on the +decks, as if all mankind had given him up except the old man who +preceded him and that other man dying in the deepening twilight, +who was awaiting his coming. Below, in the light of the hatchway, +he saw a young Calash with a broad yellow face and his wiry hair +sticking up in stiff wisps through the folds of his +head-kerchief, holding an earthenware water-jar to the lips of +Jaffir extended on his back on a pile of mats. + +A languid roll of the already glazed eyeballs, a mere stir of +black and white in the gathering dusk showed that the faithful +messenger of princes was aware of the presence of the man who had +been so long known to him and his people as the King of the Sea. +Lingard knelt down close to Jaffir's head, which rolled a little +from side to side and then became still, staring at a beam of the +upper deck. Lingard bent his ear to the dark lips. "Deliver your +message" he said in a gentle tone. + +"The Rajah wished to hold your hand once more," whispered Jaffir +so faintly that Lingard had to guess the words rather than hear +them. "I was to tell you," he went on--and stopped suddenly. + +"What were you to tell me?" + +"To forget everything," said Jaffir with a loud effort as if +beginning a long speech. After that he said nothing more till +Lingard murmured, "And the lady Immada?" + +Jaffir collected all his strength. "She hoped no more," he +uttered, distinctly. "The order came to her while she mourned, +veiled, apart. I didn't even see her face." + +Lingard swayed over the dying man so heavily that Wasub, standing +near by, hastened to catch him by the shoulder. Jaffir seemed +unaware of anything, and went on staring at the beam. + +"Can you hear me, O Jaffir?" asked Lingard. + +"I hear." + +"I never had the ring. Who could bring it to me?" + +"We gave it to the white woman--may Jehannum be her lot!" + +"No! It shall be my lot," said Lingard with despairing force, +while Wasub raised both his hands in dismay. "For, listen, +Jaffir, if she had given the ring to me it would have been to one +that was dumb, deaf, and robbed of all courage." + +It was impossible to say whether Jaffir had heard. He made no +sound, there was no change in his awful stare, but his prone body +moved under the cotton sheet as if to get further away from the +white man. Lingard got up slowly and making a sign to Wasub to +remain where he was, went up on deck without giving another +glance to the dying man. Again it seemed to him that he was +pacing the quarter-deck of a deserted ship. The mulatto steward, +watching through the crack of the pantry door, saw the Captain +stagger into the cuddy and fling-to the door behind him with a +crash. For more than an hour nobody approached that closed door +till Carter coming down the companion stairs spoke without +attempting to open it. + +"Are you there, sir?" The answer, "You may come in," comforted +the young man by its strong resonance. He went in. + +"Well?" + +"Jaffir is dead. This moment. I thought you would want to know." + +Lingard looked persistently at Carter, thinking that now Jaffir +was dead there was no one left on the empty earth to speak to him +a word of reproach; no one to know the greatness of his +intentions, the bond of fidelity between him and Hassim and +Immada, the depth of his affection for those people, the +earnestness of his visions, and the unbounded trust that was his +reward. By the mad scorn of Jorgenson flaming up against the life +of men, all this was as if it had never been. It had become a +secret locked up in his own breast forever. + +"Tell Wasub to open one of the long-cloth bales in the hold, Mr. +Carter, and give the crew a cotton sheet to bury him decently +according to their faith. Let it be done to-night. They must have +the boats, too. I suppose they will want to take him on the +sandbank." + +"Yes, sir," said Carter. + +"Let them have what they want, spades, torches. . . . Wasub +will chant the right words. Paradise is the lot of all True +Believers. Do you understand me, Mr. Carter? Paradise! I wonder +what it will be for him! Unless he gets messages to carry through +the jungle, avoiding ambushes, swimming in storms and knowing no +rest, he won't like it." + +Carter listened with an unmoved face. It seemed to him that the +Captain had forgotten his presence. + +"And all the time he will be sleeping on that sandbank," Lingard +began again, sitting in his old place under the gilt thunderbolts +suspended over his head with his elbows on the table and his +hands to his temples. "If they want a board to set up at the +grave let them have a piece of an oak plank. It will stay +there--till the next monsoon. Perhaps." + +Carter felt uncomfortable before that tense stare which just +missed him and in that confined cabin seemed awful in its +piercing and far-off expression. But as he had not been dismissed +he did not like to go away. + +"Everything will be done as you wish it, sir," he said. "I +suppose the yacht will be leaving the first thing to-morrow +morning, sir." + +"If she doesn't we must give her a solid shot or two to liven her +up--eh, Mr. Carter?" + +Carter did not know whether to smile or to look horrified. In the +end he did both, but as to saying anything he found it +impossible. But Lingard did not expect an answer. + +"I believe you are going to stay with me, Mr. Carter?" + +"I told you, sir, I am your man if you want me." + +"The trouble is, Mr. Carter, that I am no longer the man to whom +you spoke that night in Carimata." + +"Neither am I, sir, in a manner of speaking." + +Lingard, relaxing the tenseness of his stare, looked at the young +man, thoughtfully. + +"After all, it is the brig that will want you. She will never +change. The finest craft afloat in these seas. She will carry me +about as she did before, but . . ." + +He unclasped his hands, made a sweeping gesture. + +Carter gave all his naive sympathy to that man who had certainly +rescued the white people but seemed to have lost his own soul in +the attempt. Carter had heard something from Wasub. He had made +out enough of this story from the old serang's pidgin English to +know that the Captain's native friends, one of them a woman, had +perished in a mysterious catastrophe. But the why of it, and how +it came about, remained still quite incomprehensible to him. Of +course, a man like the Captain would feel terribly cut up. . . . + +"You will be soon yourself again, sir," he said in the kindest +possible tone. + +With the same simplicity Lingard shook his head. He was thinking +of the dead Jaffir with his last message delivered and untroubled +now by all these matters of the earth. He had been ordered to +tell him to forget everything. Lingard had an inward shudder. In +the dismay of his heart he might have believed his brig to lie +under the very wing of the Angel of Desolation--so oppressive, so +final, and hopeless seemed the silence in which he and Carter +looked at each other, wistfully. + +Lingard reached for a sheet of paper amongst several lying on the +table, took up a pen, hesitated a moment, and then wrote: + +"Meet me at day-break on the sandbank." + +He addressed the envelope to Mrs. Travers, Yacht Hermit, and +pushed it across the table. + +"Send this on board the schooner at once, Mr. Carter. Wait a +moment. When our boats shove off for the sandbank have the +forecastle gun fired. I want to know when that dead man has left +the ship." + +He sat alone, leaning his head on his hand, listening, listening +endlessly, for the report of the gun. Would it never come? When +it came at last muffled, distant, with a slight shock through the +body of the brig he remained still with his head leaning on his +hand but with a distinct conviction, with an almost physical +certitude, that under the cotton sheet shrouding the dead man +something of himself, too, had left the ship. + + + +IX + +In a roomy cabin, furnished and fitted with austere comfort, Mr. +Travers reposed at ease in a low bed-place under a snowy white +sheet and a light silk coverlet, his head sunk in a white pillow +of extreme purity. A faint scent of lavender hung about the fresh +linen. Though lying on his back like a person who is seriously +ill Mr. Travers was conscious of nothing worse than a great +fatigue. Mr. Travers' restfulness had something faintly +triumphant in it. To find himself again on board his yacht had +soothed his vanity and had revived his sense of his own +importance. He contemplated it in a distant perspective, restored +to its proper surroundings and unaffected by an adventure too +extraordinary to trouble a superior mind or even to remain in +one's memory for any length of time. He was not responsible. Like +many men ambitious of directing the affairs of a nation, Mr. +Travers disliked the sense of responsibility. He would not have +been above evading it in case of need, but with perverse +loftiness he really, in his heart, scorned it. That was the +reason why he was able to lie at rest and enjoy a sense of +returning vigour. But he did not care much to talk as yet, and +that was why the silence in the stateroom had lasted for hours. +The bulkhead lamp had a green silk shade. It was unnecessary to +admit for a moment the existence of impudence or ruffianism. A +discreet knocking at the cabin door sounded deferential. + +Mrs. Travers got up to see what was wanted, and returned without +uttering a single word to the folding armchair by the side of the +bed-place, with an envelope in her hand which she tore open in +the greenish light. Mr. Travers remained incurious but his wife +handed to him an unfolded sheet of paper which he condescended to +hold up to his eyes. It contained only one line of writing. He +let the paper fall on the coverlet and went on reposing as +before. It was a sick man's repose. Mrs. Travers in the armchair, +with her hands on the arm-rests, had a great dignity of attitude. + +"I intend to go," she declared after a time. + +"You intend to go," repeated Mr. Travers in a feeble, deliberate +voice. "Really, it doesn't matter what you decide to do. All this +is of so little importance. It seems to me that there can be no +possible object." + +"Perhaps not," she admitted. "But don't you think that the +uttermost farthing should always be paid?" + +Mr. Travers' head rolled over on the pillow and gave a covertly +scared look at that outspoken woman. But it rolled back again at +once and the whole man remained passive, the very embodiment of +helpless exhaustion. Mrs. Travers noticed this, and had the +unexpected impression that Mr. Travers was not so ill as he +looked. "He's making the most of it. It's a matter of diplomacy," +she thought. She thought this without irony, bitterness, or +disgust. Only her heart sank a little lower and she felt that she +could not remain in the cabin with that man for the rest of the +evening. For all life--yes! But not for that evening. + +"It's simply monstrous," murmured the man, who was either very +diplomatic or very exhausted, in a languid manner. "There is +something abnormal in you." + +Mrs. Travers got up swiftly. + +"One comes across monstrous things. But I assure you that of all +the monsters that wait on what you would call a normal existence +the one I dread most is tediousness. A merciless monster without +teeth or claws. Impotent. Horrible!" + +She left the stateroom, vanishing out of it with noiseless +resolution. No power on earth could have kept her in there for +another minute. On deck she found a moonless night with a velvety +tepid feeling in the air, and in the sky a mass of blurred +starlight, like the tarnished tinsel of a worn-out, very old, +very tedious firmament. The usual routine of the yacht had been +already resumed, the awnings had been stretched aft, a solitary +round lamp had been hung as usual under the main boom. Out of the +deep gloom behind it d'Alcacer, a long, loose figure, lounged in +the dim light across the deck. D'Alcacer had got promptly in +touch with the store of cigarettes he owed to the Governor +General's generosity. A large, pulsating spark glowed, +illuminating redly the design of his lips under the fine dark +moustache, the tip of his nose, his lean chin. D'Alcacer +reproached himself for an unwonted light-heartedness which had +somehow taken possession of him. He had not experienced that sort +of feeling for years. Reprehensible as it was he did not want +anything to disturb it. But as he could not run away openly from +Mrs. Travers he advanced to meet her. + +"I do hope you have nothing to tell me," he said with whimsical +earnestness. + +"I? No! Have you?" + +He assured her he had not, and proffered a request. "Don't let us +tell each other anything, Mrs. Travers. Don't let us think of +anything. I believe it will be the best way to get over the +evening." There was real anxiety in his jesting tone. + +"Very well," Mrs. Travers assented, seriously. "But in that case +we had better not remain together." She asked, then, d'Alcacer to +go below and sit with Mr. Travers who didn't like to be left +alone. "Though he, too, doesn't seem to want to be told +anything," she added, parenthetically, and went on: "But I must +ask you something else, Mr. d'Alcacer. I propose to sit down in +this chair and go to sleep--if I can. Will you promise to call me +about five o'clock? I prefer not to speak to any one on deck, +and, moreover, I can trust you." + +He bowed in silence and went away slowly. Mrs. Travers, turning +her head, perceived a steady light at the brig's yard-arm, very +bright among the tarnished stars. She walked aft and looked over +the taffrail. It was exactly like that other night. She half +expected to hear presently the low, rippling sound of an +advancing boat. But the universe remained without a sound. When +she at last dropped into the deck chair she was absolutely at the +end of her power of thinking. "I suppose that's how the condemned +manage to get some sleep on the night before the execution," she +said to herself a moment before her eyelids closed as if under a +leaden hand. + +She woke up, with her face wet with tears, out of a vivid dream +of Lingard in chain-mail armour and vaguely recalling a Crusader, +but bare-headed and walking away from her in the depths of an +impossible landscape. She hurried on to catch up with him but a +throng of barbarians with enormous turbans came between them at +the last moment and she lost sight of him forever in the flurry +of a ghastly sand-storm. What frightened her most was that she +had not been able to see his face. It was then that she began to +cry over her hard fate. When she woke up the tears were still +rolling down her cheeks and she perceived in the light of the +deck-lamp d'Alcacer arrested a little way off. + +"Did you have to speak to me?" she asked. + +"No," said d'Alcacer. "You didn't give me time. When I came as +far as this I fancied I heard you sobbing. It must have been a +delusion." + +"Oh, no. My face is wet yet. It was a dream. I suppose it is five +o'clock. Thank you for being so punctual. I have something to do +before sunrise." + +D'Alcacer moved nearer. "I know. You have decided to keep an +appointment on the sandbank. Your husband didn't utter twenty +words in all these hours but he managed to tell me that piece of +news." + +"I shouldn't have thought," she murmured, vaguely. + +"He wanted me to understand that it had no importance," stated +d'Alcacer in a very serious tone. + +"Yes. He knows what he is talking about," said Mrs. Travers in +such a bitter tone as to disconcert d'Alcacer for a moment. "I +don't see a single soul about the decks," Mrs. Travers continued, +almost directly. + +"The very watchmen are asleep," said d'Alcacer. + +"There is nothing secret in this expedition, but I prefer not to +call any one. Perhaps you wouldn't mind pulling me off yourself +in our small boat." + +It seemed to her that d'Alcacer showed some hesitation. She +added: "It has no importance, you know." + +He bowed his assent and preceded her down the side in silence. +When she entered the boat he had the sculls ready and directly +she sat down he shoved off. It was so dark yet that but for the +brig's yard-arm light he could not have kept his direction. He +pulled a very deliberate stroke, looking over his shoulder +frequently. It was Mrs. Travers who saw first the faint gleam of +the uncovered sandspit on the black, quiet water. + +"A little more to the left," she said. "No, the other way . . . +" D'Alcacer obeyed her directions but his stroke grew even +slower than before. She spoke again. "Don't you think that the +uttermost farthing should always be paid, Mr. d'Alcacer?" + +D'Alcacer glanced over his shoulder, then: "It would be the only +honourable way. But it may be hard. Too hard for our common +fearful hearts." + +"I am prepared for anything." + +He ceased pulling for a moment . . . "Anything that may be +found on a sandbank," Mrs. Travers went on. "On an arid, +insignificant, and deserted sandbank." + +D'Alcacer gave two strokes and ceased again. + +"There is room for a whole world of suffering on a sandbank, for +all the bitterness and resentment a human soul may be made to +feel." + +"Yes, I suppose you would know," she whispered while he gave a +stroke or two and again glanced over his shoulder. She murmured +the words: + +"Bitterness, resentment," and a moment afterward became aware of +the keel of the boat running up on the sand. But she didn't move, +and d'Alcacer, too, remained seated on the thwart with the blades +of his sculls raised as if ready to drop them and back the dinghy +out into deep water at the first sign. + +Mrs. Travers made no sign, but she asked, abruptly: "Mr. +d'Alcacer, do you think I shall ever come back?" + +Her tone seemed to him to lack sincerity. But who could tell what +this abruptness covered--sincere fear or mere vanity? He asked +himself whether she was playing a part for his benefit, or only +for herself. + +"I don't think you quite understand the situation, Mrs. Travers. +I don't think you have a clear idea, either of his simplicity or +of his visionary's pride." + +She thought, contemptuously, that there were other things which +d'Alcacer didn't know and surrendered to a sudden temptation to +enlighten him a little. + +"You forget his capacity for passion and that his simplicity +doesn't know its own strength." + +There was no mistaking the sincerity of that murmur. "She has +felt it," d'Alcacer said to himself with absolute certitude. He +wondered when, where, how, on what occasion? Mrs. Travers stood +up in the stern sheets suddenly and d'Alcacer leaped on the sand +to help her out of the boat. + +"Hadn't I better hang about here to take you back again?" he +suggested, as he let go her hand. + +"You mustn't!" she exclaimed, anxiously. "You must return to the +yacht. There will be plenty of light in another hour. I will come +to this spot and wave my handkerchief when I want to be taken +off." + +At their feet the shallow water slept profoundly, the ghostly +gleam of the sands baffled the eye by its lack of form. Far off, +the growth of bushes in the centre raised a massive black bulk +against the stars to the southward. Mrs. Travers lingered for a +moment near the boat as if afraid of the strange solitude of this +lonely sandbank and of this lone sea that seemed to fill the +whole encircling universe of remote stars and limitless shadows. +"There is nobody here," she whispered to herself. + +"He is somewhere about waiting for you, or I don't know the man," +affirmed d'Alcacer in an undertone. He gave a vigorous shove +which sent the little boat into the water. + +D'Alcacer was perfectly right. Lingard had come up on deck long +before Mrs. Travers woke up with her face wet with tears. The +burial party had returned hours before and the crew of the brig +were plunged in sleep, except for two watchmen, who at Lingard's +appearance retreated noiselessly from the poop. Lingard, leaning +on the rail, fell into a sombre reverie of his past. Reproachful +spectres crowded the air, animated and vocal, not in the +articulate language of mortals but assailing him with faint sobs, +deep sighs, and fateful gestures. When he came to himself and +turned about they vanished, all but one dark shape without sound +or movement. Lingard looked at it with secret horror. + +"Who's that?" he asked in a troubled voice. + +The shadow moved closer: "It's only me, sir," said Carter, who +had left orders to be called directly the Captain was seen on +deck. + +"Oh, yes, I might have known," mumbled Lingard in some confusion. +He requested Carter to have a boat manned and when after a time +the young man told him that it was ready, he said "All right!" +and remained leaning on his elbow. + +"I beg your pardon, sir," said Carter after a longish silence, +"but are you going some distance?" + +"No, I only want to be put ashore on the sandbank." + +Carter was relieved to hear this, but also surprised. "There is +nothing living there, sir," he said. + +"I wonder," muttered Lingard. + +"But I am certain," Carter insisted. "The last of the women and +children belonging to those cut-throats were taken off by the +sampans which brought you and the yacht-party out." + +He walked at Lingard's elbow to the gangway and listened to his +orders. + +"Directly there is enough light to see flags by, make a signal to +the schooner to heave short on her cable and loose her sails. If +there is any hanging back give them a blank gun, Mr. Carter. I +will have no shilly-shallying. If she doesn't go at the word, by +heavens, I will drive her out. I am still master here--for +another day." + +The overwhelming sense of immensity, of disturbing emptiness, +which affects those who walk on the sands in the midst of the +sea, intimidated Mrs. Travers. The world resembled a limitless +flat shadow which was motionless and elusive. Then against the +southern stars she saw a human form that isolated and lone +appeared to her immense: the shape of a giant outlined amongst +the constellations. As it approached her it shrank to common +proportions, got clear of the stars, lost its awesomeness, and +became menacing in its ominous and silent advance. Mrs. Travers +hastened to speak. + +"You have asked for me. I am come. I trust you will have no +reason to regret my obedience." + +He walked up quite close to her, bent down slightly to peer into +her face. The first of the tropical dawn put its characteristic +cold sheen into the sky above the Shore of Refuge. + +Mrs. Travers did not turn away her head. + +"Are you looking for a change in me? No. You won't see it. Now I +know that I couldn't change even if I wanted to. I am made of +clay that is too hard." + +"I am looking at you for the first time," said Lingard. "I never +could see you before. There were too many things, too many +thoughts, too many people. No, I never saw you before. But now +the world is dead." + +He grasped her shoulders, approaching his face close to hers. She +never flinched. + +"Yes, the world is dead," she said. "Look your fill then. It +won't be for long." + +He let her go as suddenly as though she had struck him. The cold +white light of the tropical dawn had crept past the zenith now +and the expanse of the shallow waters looked cold, too, without +stir or ripple within the enormous rim of the horizon where, to +the west, a shadow lingered still. + +"Take my arm," he said. + +She did so at once, and turning their backs on the two ships they +began to walk along the sands, but they had not made many steps +when Mrs. Travers perceived an oblong mound with a board planted +upright at one end. Mrs. Travers knew that part of the sands. It +was here she used to walk with her husband and d'Alcacer every +evening after dinner, while the yacht lay stranded and her boats +were away in search of assistance--which they had found--which +they had found! This was something that she had never seen there +before. Lingard had suddenly stopped and looked at it moodily. +She pressed his arm to rouse him and asked, "What is this?" + +"This is a grave," said Lingard in a low voice, and still gazing +at the heap of sand. "I had him taken out of the ship last night. +Strange," he went on in a musing tone, "how much a grave big +enough for one man only can hold. His message was to forget +everything." + +"Never, never," murmured Mrs. Travers. "I wish I had been on +board the Emma. . . . You had a madman there," she cried out, +suddenly. They moved on again, Lingard looking at Mrs. Travers +who was leaning on his arm. + +"I wonder which of us two was mad," he said. + +"I wonder you can bear to look at me," she murmured. Then Lingard +spoke again. + +"I had to see you once more." + +"That abominable Jorgenson," she whispered to herself. + +"No, no, he gave me my chance--before he gave me up." + +Mrs. Travers disengaged her arm and Lingard stopped, too, facing +her in a long silence. + +"I could not refuse to meet you," said Mrs. Travers at last. "I +could not refuse you anything. You have all the right on your +side and I don't care what you do or say. But I wonder at my own +courage when I think of the confession I have to make." She +advanced, laid her hand on Lingard's shoulder and spoke +earnestly. "I shuddered at the thought of meeting you again. And +now you must listen to my confession." + +"Don't say a word," said Lingard in an untroubled voice and never +taking his eyes from her face. "I know already." + +"You can't," she cried. Her hand slipped off his shoulder. "Then +why don't you throw me into the sea?" she asked, passionately. +"Am I to live on hating myself?" + +"You mustn't!" he said with an accent of fear. "Haven't you +understood long ago that if you had given me that ring it would +have been just the same?" + +"Am I to believe this? No, no! You are too generous to a mere +sham. You are the most magnanimous of men but you are throwing it +away on me. Do you think it is remorse that I feel? No. If it is +anything it is despair. But you must have known that--and yet you +wanted to look at me again." + +"I told you I never had a chance before," said Lingard in an +unmoved voice. "It was only after I heard they gave you the ring +that I felt the hold you have got on me. How could I tell before? +What has hate or love to do with you and me? Hate. Love. What can +touch you? For me you stand above death itself; for I see now +that as long as I live you will never die." + +They confronted each other at the southern edge of the sands as +if afloat on the open sea. The central ridge heaped up by the +winds masked from them the very mastheads of the two ships and +the growing brightness of the light only augmented the sense of +their invincible solitude in the awful serenity of the world. +Mrs. Travers suddenly put her arm across her eyes and averted her +face. + +Then he added: + +"That's all." + +Mrs. Travers let fall her arm and began to retrace her steps, +unsupported and alone. Lingard followed her on the edge of the +sand uncovered by the ebbing tide. A belt of orange light +appeared in the cold sky above the black forest of the Shore of +Refuge and faded quickly to gold that melted soon into a blinding +and colourless glare. It was not till after she had passed +Jaffir's grave that Mrs. Travers stole a backward glance and +discovered that she was alone. Lingard had left her to herself. +She saw him sitting near the mound of sand, his back bowed, his +hands clasping his knees, as if he had obeyed the invincible call +of his great visions haunting the grave of the faithful +messenger. Shading her eyes with her hand Mrs. Travers watched +the immobility of that man of infinite illusions. He never moved, +he never raised his head. It was all over. He was done with her. +She waited a little longer and then went slowly on her way. + +Shaw, now acting second mate of the yacht, came off with another +hand in a little boat to take Mrs. Travers on board. He stared at +her like an offended owl. How the lady could suddenly appear at +sunrise waving her handkerchief from the sandbank he could not +understand. For, even if she had managed to row herself off +secretly in the dark, she could not have sent the empty boat back +to the yacht. It was to Shaw a sort of improper miracle. + +D'Alcacer hurried to the top of the side ladder and as they met +on deck Mrs. Travers astonished him by saying in a strangely +provoking tone: + +"You were right. I have come back." Then with a little laugh +which impressed d'Alcacer painfully she added with a nod +downward, "and Martin, too, was perfectly right. It was +absolutely unimportant." + +She walked on straight to the taffrail and d'Alcacer followed her +aft, alarmed at her white face, at her brusque movements, at the +nervous way in which she was fumbling at her throat. He waited +discreetly till she turned round and thrust out toward him her +open palm on which he saw a thick gold ring set with a large +green stone. + +"Look at this, Mr. d'Alcacer. This is the thing which I asked you +whether I should give up or conceal--the symbol of the last +hour--the call of the supreme minute. And he said it would have +made no difference! He is the most magnanimous of men and the +uttermost farthing has been paid. He has done with me. The most +magnanimous . . . but there is a grave on the sands by which I +left him sitting with no glance to spare for me. His last glance +on earth! I am left with this thing. Absolutely unimportant. A +dead talisman." With a nervous jerk she flung the ring overboard, +then with a hurried entreaty to d'Alcacer, "Stay here a moment. +Don't let anybody come near us," she burst into tears and turned +her back on him. + +Lingard returned on board his brig and in the early afternoon the +Lightning got under way, running past the schooner to give her a +lead through the maze of Shoals. Lingard was on deck but never +looked once at the following vessel. Directly both ships were in +clear water he went below saying to Carter: "You know what to +do." + +"Yes, sir," said Carter. + +Shortly after his Captain had disappeared from the deck Carter +laid the main topsail to the mast. The Lightning lost her way +while the schooner with all her light kites abroad passed close +under her stern holding on her course. Mrs. Travers stood aft +very rigid, gripping the rail with both hands. The brim of her +white hat was blown upward on one side and her yachting skirt +stirred in the breeze. By her side d'Alcacer waved his hand +courteously. Carter raised his cap to them. + +During the afternoon he paced the poop with measured steps, with +a pair of binoculars in his hand. At last he laid the glasses +down, glanced at the compass-card and walked to the cabin +skylight which was open. + +"Just lost her, sir," he said. All was still down there. He +raised his voice a little: + +"You told me to let you know directly I lost sight of the yacht." + +The sound of a stifled groan reached the attentive Carter and a +weary voice said, "All right, I am coming." + +When Lingard stepped out on the poop of the Lightning the open +water had turned purple already in the evening light, while to +the east the Shallows made a steely glitter all along the sombre +line of the shore. Lingard, with folded arms, looked over the +sea. Carter approached him and spoke quietly. + +"The tide has turned and the night is coming on. Hadn't we better +get away from these Shoals, sir?" + +Lingard did not stir. + +"Yes, the night is coming on. You may fill the main topsail, Mr. +Carter," he said and he relapsed into silence with his eyes fixed +in the southern board where the shadows were creeping stealthily +toward the setting sun. Presently Carter stood at his elbow +again. + +"The brig is beginning to forge ahead, sir," he said in a warning +tone. + +Lingard came out of his absorption with a deep tremor of his +powerful frame like the shudder of an uprooted tree. + +"How was the yacht heading when you lost sight of her?" he asked. + +"South as near as possible," answered Carter. "Will you give me a +course to steer for the night, sir?" + +Lingard's lips trembled before he spoke but his voice was calm. + +"Steer north," he said. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Rescue, by Joseph Conrad + diff --git a/old/trscu10.zip b/old/trscu10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c873b7f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/trscu10.zip |